#steve harrington x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rustedhearts · 2 days

Text

every corner (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: it's been 7 months since you said goodbye to steve. most exes that fell out of love move on and never speak. but you never really fell out of love, did you?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ everytime (part one) ♡ the library ♡ the record store

tags: mention of past substance abuse; angst; hurt/not much comfort; pining and yearning; smut.

a/n: here we are, an entire year later. hope you enjoy. love you (and soft, sad everytime steve) forever!

ko-fi (because i graduated from college recently if you wanted to leave a tip!)

"nothing happened in the way I wanted, every corner of this house haunted. and I know you said that we're not talking...but I miss you."

— i miss you, i'm sorry, gracie abrams

halloween night, 1999

The familiar tune of Michael Myers' entrance has you clutching the knitted blanket closer to your chest, cowering behind your knees to shield the tv. The grainy picture glows through the living room, illuminating half-eaten Chinese takeout and four cherry Pepsi cans. You had a bucket of popcorn on the cushion beside you and a bag of Red Vines near your feet. A party for one, completely alcohol free.

It's been four months since you've had even a sip, and it pained you to say that maybe your friends were right. You did have a problem.

You were still gaining their trust and friendship back, tiptoeing around past mistakes and attempting to right them.

After that drunken night at Eddie's house over the summer—when Steve rescued you from stupor and tucked you into bed—your friends had an intervention. Sat you down—sober, grumpy, and lashing out—and fixed you with some tough love.

"Clinging to Steve isn't gonna help either of you move on," Robin said. "It's not gonna help you get better. And you need to get better."

You sat back on Eddie's couch with your arms crossed and your legs tucked up, glaring at the wall above her head. Back then, you took their stern attitudes as hatred. You thought they were being mean, coming down on you for your own heartbreak.

But they were ten steps ahead of you. They saw the spiral before you could even recognize it happening.

"You're not in it alone, Steve has some fault in this, too. But...I think you guys need some time apart. Real time, no contact. It's the only way I think you'll get sober."

You moved your eyes to Eddie, who was wringing his hands together and tossing you a furrow-browed look. Gwen massaged his bicep lovingly, and you turned your eyes away again.

"We love you," Gwen added. "But when you're drunk, or high...you're harder to love."

So you stopped drinking. Stopped smoking anything that wasn't nicotine, started sublimating with caffeine. It wasn't a complete cold break, but you had to start somewhere.

The only downside to sober life was the distance you felt from your friends. The parties and get-togethers didn't stop, but you had to stop attending most of them. Of course, you didn't expect your friends to stop drinking or smoking just because you did. Eddie Munson would always be a pothead—but he wasn't an addict. He didn't have to keep himself away from it, because he knew when to stop. That was the difference between you and your friends.

Your lack of control.

Which is why, when your phone rang every few weeks and Steve's voice came through the other side, you just...didn't tell anyone about it.

You figured they must've sat him down and had a similar conversation to yours. Told him to stay away, move on, find some other way to cope that didn't involve bothering you.

But they didn't get it. You grew up together. You can't just forget your first love.

And right now, you're sitting on the couch cushion closest to the end table where your phone waits. You find your eyes meeting the still and silent cradle every few scenes, and every time you get up to get another snack or use the bathroom, you're on high alert. Waiting for the shrill ring. Waiting for the call you know is coming.

Because Eddie and Gwen host a Halloween costume party every year, and Steve is always in attendance. Despite his distaste for getting drunk and stupid, he loves a competition—and he always wins best costume.

And right now Steve is 20 minutes away, sitting on a couch much like you are, nursing a lukewarm beer and staring at a couple cuddled in the armchair. He watches the man tuck her hair behind her ear, watches the girl kiss his jaw and nuzzle her nose in his neck. You used to do that. Used to tell him how good he smelled after working up a sweat, licking it from his skin without apology.

Steve pinches his eyes shut, inhaling sharply. He needs to stop thinking about you. He needs to stop remembering the way you touched his body, the way you loved him with your mouth and hands because you never knew how to use your words.

The blunt edge of his nail rips the soggy paper wrapped around his beer bottle. He's itching to call you. He quite literally feels sick about the thought of forgetting the way you pronounce his name, the way your voice wraps around words in their own special way. He can't remember which version of 'either' you used, and it's killing him.

He's forgetting you.

He can't forget you.

Eddie and Gwen are in the kitchen laughing and mingling with other couples. Robin's flirting with a girl in the corner, hand pressed against the wall above her head. They'll go home together, and Steve will go home alone.

No one's watching. So, he picks up the phone.

He dials your number with quick and eager fingers, gripping the phone with antsy hunger. His heel bounces on the carpet, fingers drumming his knee.

Your eyes slide to the phone a split second before it rings. Every nerve in your body began to buzz in anticipation before that first trill, and you almost knock over the popcorn in your hurried rush to receive the phone.

But you pull back. Sit back on the couch and retract your hand. You watch the phone shake on the cradle stand, rattle the lamp behind it on the table. It rings once, twice, three times. At Eddie's, Steve thinks about hanging up and grows sicker.

You pick up the phone before it stops.

"Hello?"

Steve exhales, lets a smile touch his face. He focuses on the beer bottle wedged between his thighs to avoid seeming too giddy.

"Hey."

You slide back against the couch, turning the tv down. You fondle a sticky Red Vine mindlessly as silence passes between the pair of you. It's been two weeks since you last spoke—the longest you'd gone. Pathetic, isn't it? You haven't been together in almost seven months, yet you can't go more than two weeks without talking.

You tried not to let the thick, sick feeling in your throat at the thought mean much.

"You at home?"

You try not to giggle at the obvious. But he was just filling the space. He just wanted to hear you speak again.

"Yeah."

Steve tears another rip in the beer label. "Which Halloween are you on?"

Your gaze moves to the tv again, where you grin at the movie playing. "The third."

"Blech," Steve groans. "That one sucks."

"I know," you giggle at his playful distaste. "But I don't like skipping through a series."

Steve waits a beat. He rotates the bottle between his legs to peel the back. The beer sloshes around, and he knows the next swig of it will be disgustingly warm.

"All the lights on, too?"

Your eyes bounce around the room at the various lamps glowing soft yellow light through the room. The light filtering through the hall from your bedroom, the one clicked on above the sink in the kitchen. Your lip turns upward.

"Yeah."

Your chest squeezes at the thought of Steve knowing you so well. It wasn't that long ago that he was curled up next to you during a Halloween movie marathon, soothing you when you'd shriek, chuckling when you hid your face in his chest. He always took scary movies as an opportunity to cradle and baby you, because it wasn't often you let him.

Maybe that's why they were his favorite now.

Steve tugs the beer free from his legs and tipped back a swig. He winces as the warm liquid slid down his throat, face soured with disgust. His eyes slide toward the corner of the room where Robin and her current infatuation are giggling. He can hear Eddie's voice squawking in the kitchen, but it's growing closer.

He runs a hand down his face and shakes his head, knowing the next words to leave his mouth will be stupid and another space filler. "You scared?"

You snicker through your nose. He hears a soft snap when your teeth tear at a Red Vine. "Maybe a little."

He gnaws on his bottom lip a moment, gripping the neck of his beer bottle tightly. His stomach is in the knot of all knots, sitting somewhere between his chest and his throat. The next words are weighing him down and he spits them out before he loses the gall.

"Want me to come over?"

The line buzzes. Your living room vignettes, the top layer of skin under your sweatshirt littered with goosebumps. Swallowing down the candy comes with difficulty. You can only seem to stare at the bright light of the television, switching between pictures.

At Eddie's, Steve drops his head into his hands and tugs hard at the top of his hair, tapping the phone against his forehead in self-reprimand.

"Steve?"

He puts the phone back to his ear quickly. "Yeah?" His voice is so much smaller, croaked.

"Is that...is that a good idea?" You trust his judgement more than yours.

Steve cranes his head over his shoulder, peering around the corner into the kitchen. Eddie and Gwen are leaning against the kitchen sink, the latter tucked under his arm. He has a polaroid at the bottom of his sock drawer of all four of you in that very spot when Eddie first moved into the apartment. It was July and you did all the heavy lifting yourselves.

"I don't know," Steve sighs. His hand is still in his hair, twisting at the roots until it hurts.

But it still doesn't hurt as much as the squeezing in his chest.

"I don't think it is," you whisper.

Steve lets go of his hair and scratches at his stinging scalp. "Yeah. Yeah, yeah, you're right."

He taps his finger on the other side of the phone. He tightens his grip on the beer bottle and it creaks under the weight. He imagines himself throwing it across the room just to hear the shatter, but he would never do such a thing. Not in his best friend's home.

"Would it be the last time?"

Steve perks up, lifting his head from where it's drooped toward his lap. His cheeks suddenly hold a heat that burns, and it's traveling down his neck.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, it...it can be," he fumbles, swallowing thickly. He doesn't want it to be the last time.

You pluck a piece of stray popcorn from your sweater and toss it back into the bowl. You eye the mess on your coffee table and wonder how long it would take you to clean up and light a candle to mask the fact that you haven't cleaned in over a week.

Steve hasn't seen your new place. He hasn't seen how well you've been doing.

If anyone asks, you were just showing him.

"Okay...grab some more cherry Pepsi on your way over?"

Steve leaps from the couch, tugging the phone cord with him and dragging the tablecloth askew. He curses under his breath, jolting to grab the cradle before it falls off the end table.

"Ye-yeah—yes! I will. I'll...I'll be there."

Your lips press into a smile. "Okay."

He can barely contain his grin as he slams the phone down and clumsily fixes the end table back into its original state. He snatches his jacket thrown on the back of the couch and rushes out of the room, toward the kitchen where his keys are sitting near the stove.

"Hey, buddy," Eddie coos as Steve scrambles for his belongings. "Where ya been?"

Steve shoves his keys into his pocket, jacket balled in his fist. He barely spares Eddie or Gwen a glance as he pushes past the bodies blocking the door.

"Uh...I gotta go. Gotta, um..."

Steve pauses, shoe squeaking on the kitchen tile when he turns on his heel to face his friends. Heat rushes to his face again, cheeks coloring a deep red. He hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.

When Eddie and Gwen blink at him, Steve sighs defeatedly and drops his hands. He neglects any attempt at an excuse in his eagerness to see you.

"I gotta go, guys."

Before either can interrogate his vagueness, Steve is spinning around and rushing the door, nearly knocking everyone else over along the way. He fumbles over his feet down the stairs to the lobby, where he flings the front doors open to the parking lot. The BMW clicks open easily, and he's thankful for her reliability as he starts the engine and screeches toward the street.

At home, you're throwing all trash into the bin and spraying perfume to hide the smell. You rake through your appearance to throw it into something more presentable, but you know Steve likes a frazzled, "lazy" look more than anything. He always said he preferred you in your pajamas or one of his faded t-shirts.

You're bent over grabbing a piece of crust from this morning's toast under the kitchen table when the door rattles under a heavy fist. You jerk up, hurriedly tossing the toast into the bin before pushing it back under the sink. You stand in front of the door for a moment, fussing with your hair and adjusting the hem of your sweater. You can hear Steve's shuffling behind the door, and when you peek through the peep-hole, he's anxiously running his hand through the front of his hair.

It's shorter, a little lighter—but always handsome.

The door swings open just as Steve lifts his fist to knock again. He's holding a single can of cherry Pepsi in one hand and his keys in the other.

You realize as your eyes roam his appearance, that he isn't even wearing a costume.

"Hi," he breathes.

You smile, pushing the door open all the way. "Hi."

One foot enters the doorway, sneaker thumping on the linoleum tile. It crunches under his weight when he steps all the way in, keys clattering on the doorframe when he presses his hand there. He hasn't changed his cologne since sophomore year of high school and it sends you spiraling back to homecoming football games and prom night in his backseat.

Your teeth dig into your cheek, gnawing down the swirling in your stomach as Steve's eyes mimic yours and trace your body. They start at your shoulders, roaming down to your feet where your toes curl under a pair of fuzzy pink socks. In the other room, the television shrieks with a horrific scream. Neither of you even flinch.

Instead, Steve pushes off the doorway and takes another step into the kitchen. He swings the door shut behind him and you jump when it slams. He doesn't even move. But his keys skate over the countertop when he throws them, and the cherry Pepsi can hisses on its roll toward the other side of the kitchen when it falls from his hand.

And then they're on your face—those big, warm hands. Cupping your cheeks and propping your jaw, pulling you in with a familiar, firm grip. They're squeezing the back of your neck when he slants his mouth over yours and inhales sharply. Breathing you in—because finally, finally he can breathe again.

You whimper against his teeth when your back bumps into the counter, and he's pulling you off by the back of your neck to move his hold down to your hips, cushioning them from the hard surface. Always the giver.

When you pop away from his mouth, you bring your fingers to your own, slick with saliva and pulsing with bitten soreness.

"What if we made a mistake?" Steve rushes out, eyes wild and settled on your face.

"W-what?"

"What if we made a mistake? We were kids, and maybe...maybe things would be better now—"

"Steve—"

"Don't say anything. Not yet. We can talk tomorrow. Just...if this our last night, I don't wanna spend it talking."

You meet his eyes, softening once more. One hand leaves your hip to brush your cheek and trail down your neck. He ghosts them over the spot below your ear, where you shiver and giggle when he breathes hot air.

"Okay." You nod.

And then his mouth is back on yours. His hands are moving and squeezing and grabbing, and his throat is thick with moans and uneasy breaths.

This is the last night, you think, as he lays you down in bed.

The last time, you promise, when he leaves every inch of your body covered in spit-soaked kisses.

And when the phone rings as he's sucking on your neck and digging bruises into your hips, you let it go. You know it isn't him on the other line, because he's finally in your arms again.

For the very last time.

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader smut

235 notes · View notes

inkdrinkerworld · 1 day

Note

Can I request strawberry shortcake ?

adult!steve x single-mom reader? literally anything where they’re in an already established relationship, bonus points if the kid is a daughter bc Steve is such a girl dad

this is a lot closer to 300 words and i really haad to stop myself from writing more but i love this ask! thank you sm for the request and feel free to send more if you enjoy the blurb

“Vi, baby come get your snacks!” You’re in the kitchen while your four-year-old daughter is building puzzles with Steve in the living room. She’s been having a hard time eating lately, so you’ve started just giving her lots of her favourite fruit and veggies that she loves before dinner so if she doesn’t end up eating a lot at dinner, you know she’s not starving.

“Coming, momom.” You hear her toddle to you, Steve right behind her with a small smile on his face.

He’s been around to hear the birth of the ‘momom’ over ‘mom’ and he loves it. He genuinely thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

“Thanks momom,” she holds her plate in one hand and grabs a couple blueberries and shoves them into her mouth. “What about Stevie?” she asks and he finds that even cuter.

Violet is just the cutest thing Steve has ever seen, he doesn’t shy away from telling her that either. Before you can even give her an answer, she’s grabbing a handful of the fruits on her plate and holds it out to Steve.

He opens his hands immediately, accepting the halved grapes, cubed melon and sliced pears she’s shared with him. “Here you go, Stevie. Puzzles?” she’s ready to go again and you have to suppress your laugh at how enthusiastic she is about the ocean puzzle you and Steve had got her last weekend.

“What about giving momom a kiss first?” she gasps, like she can’t believe she’s forgotten to give you a kiss.

“Sorry momom, kiss.” she puckers her lips and you scoop her up, kissing her cheeks till she giggles.

#steveharrington #steve harrington #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington dialogue #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x black reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #inkdrinker'sblurbday

155 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 2 days

Text

at arm's length

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.” “Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it. You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight.

Summary: you and steve found each other when you were eleven; he's held you at an arm's length ever since, suffocating you

Rating: general, suggestive themes

Warnings: toxic relationship, heavy angst, allusions to sex, some stancy, fem!reader, use of y/n, not proofread so pls be kind

Words: 2.9k

Before you swing in: where did this come from ? no clue ! this is pure angst though, no happy ending, all just heartbreak and a very toxic steve. beware. prepare. have fun !

Neither of you know how it started.

You aren’t sure when you allowed the lines to be crossed. Steve isn’t sure when he realized he wanted to cross them.

One night he had simply wanted to crawl through your window.

And, one night, you let him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you always whisper against his skin in between highs and desperation.

“I know,” he always kisses the patch of skin just below your ear before encasing you, silencing you.

You’re not sure if he kisses the patch of skin as a promise or as an apology. For what he’s putting you through, for the ignored glances in school, for the way his body stills when someone says your name when he’s around, for the way you always see it.

Afterwards, Steve never stays long. He picks up his clothes as the quiet in your room overwhelms him. He feels your eyes follow him in the dark as he gets dressed and you remain in your bed, sprawled out wanting, waiting, mourning.

There’s never any malice or anger in your eyes when you watch him, and sometimes Steve resents you for it. He wishes you’d make it easier for him to leave.

Instead you always watch him with interest, a slight glint in your eye as if you know more than he does; Steve wants to mold a crease between your brows and turn your mouth down with his fingers so that your face isn’t as angelic and understanding.

“Drive safe.”

Your whispered words are the final blow to the thin wall of glass Steve hides behind. You wish him a safe journey home every time he drives to your house to climb through your window and take more from you than he deserves.

He hates it.

He hates you.

Yet every night Steve crawls through your window.

And every night you let him in.

–

No one knows how it started.

Your friendship with Steve Harrington was an oddity within Hawkins.

One day the two of you sat down together during lunch in the sixth grade, and the entire middle school cafeteria went quiet. Everyone had stared at you and whispered, wondering who you were and why you were sitting with someone above your rank, someone who ran with kids like Tommy Hagan.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had mumbled to Steve, tugging at your sweater with an insecurity you can only feel when you’re eleven.

“I know.” Steve hadn't seemed to feel this same sense of insecurity at eleven as he popped a french fry into his mouth with a shrug, uncaring. “But who cares?”

You remember looking down at your food, embarrassed and unsure about it all. You’d been standing at your locker merely minutes ago as you looked around helplessly, lost in the school your mom had promised you’d enjoy this time.

Then Steve had found you.

He had been on his way to the lunch room, late to meet up with his friends, when he had seen you. He will always remember the way you’d been holding yourself, then. You were drawn in, looking around the empty hallways with a wonder in your eyes, despite your obvious fear, that Steve had never seen before in someone his age.

Steve couldn’t help himself.

He had asked if you were lost and the way your eyes widened at his question made something within him stir. He watched as a blush spread across your cheeks, shy and nervous, and Steve knew then and there that he couldn’t ever leave you alone. There was something in your eyes, in the way you had looked at him in that moment with that same wonder that had made Steve stop in the first place.

Soon enough everyone in Hawkins Middle watched as your friendship unfolded.

It was innocent enough, almost imperceptible to those who weren’t paying attention, but everyone knew.

Steve was never outwardly friendly with you following your first day meeting him, although he was inseparable from you in his own ways. He would walk you to your classes and always sat a few seats behind you so that he could keep an eye on you. Everyone saw how his eyes never left you.

You never asked why Steve wouldn’t include you with the rest of his friends. He never introduced you to them, yet he made you promise that if they ever said anything to you that you’d tell him. You promised him, swore to him that you would, and the promise seemed to calm something within Steve.

“Why?” You had asked him afterwards, not understanding why it seemed so important to Steve that you’d tell him if his friends were ever mean to you.

“Because you’re my friend.” He stood by your locker as he waited for you to gather your books. People walked past the two of you, whispering as they always did, but he had learned how to ignore them.

You remember frowning, feeling a pit forming in your stomach at his words. “But they’re your friends, too.”

“No, they’re not.” Steve scoffed at you and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

“But you’re always with them.”

He looked down at his scuffed sneakers, then. “They follow me around. I don’t mind it that much, my dad says it makes boys look cool.”

“Your dad?”

Steve will never understand why he had told you about his dad that day, but he would come to learn that you always somehow made him weak against the things that darkened his mind; how you were always the one he confessed to.

“Can we go to class now?”

“Sorry,” you grabbed the last of your books and closed your locker. You smiled at Steve, you will always remember how hard you had tried to calm him down, make him comfortable around you, and you will always remember how you had placed your hand on his arm. “Let’s go to class.”

Steve flinched at your touch, and you would come to learn that touches weren’t something he was accustomed to; how it would be because of you that he learned what it feels like to be warmed by someone’s fingertips.

–

Steve isn’t sure when he became King Steve.

He thinks it was sometime during his freshman year of high school when he shot up a few inches during the summer and grew his hair long.

It had been your idea, growing his hair out, because you knew he liked it when you played with it.

“I look like a douche, Y/N.” Steve groaned when he had looked in your mirror. Sometime between sixth and seventh grade, he had started going to your house after school and on the weekend. He claimed it was because your mom was always nice to him, but deep down you knew it was because he enjoyed having you to himself.

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it.

You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight.

But two years ago you leaned into the arm that still held onto you and played with the hair that had only grown long because of you. “I mean it, you know.”

Steve’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and he saw the wonder there again, though now that you were both fifteen with a shared history, the wonder was now accompanied by a fondness that Steve couldn’t bear himself to look into for long. He loved your eyes, he loved the way you looked at him, but it always burned.

Thick silence had started to crawl in between you two, then.

Steve had grown a few inches and his jawline had sharpened and his skin evened out. One day, before your very eyes, he had stopped looking like the eleven year old boy who found you in the hallway. As you stared at him in the mirror that night, you realized just how beautiful he had become, and somehow, even then, you knew that this beauty would strangle you.

The silence had started to grip your neck, so you cleared your throat and tried to pretend that nothing had changed, even though everything had changed in that moment. “It’s late, your parents will want you home soon.”

“They probably don’t even notice I’m gone right now, Y/N.” The moment had been broken and Steve now felt the same fury that had been building within him ever since he was eight. The anger threatened to spill over, but Steve had come to learn that his anger only scared you, so instead he had tried to find another way to quiet the waves within his mind. “I have a better idea.”

“Is that so?”

“I spend the night.” Steve winked at you, he knew that you sensed his brewing anger, and he desperately wanted to reassure you that he wouldn’t ruin this.

You froze, as if you knew even then that this would be a shift within your dynamic with him. You called Steve your best friend at this point, and while he never said so out loud, you were his best friend, too. At school, you didn’t have many friends, but Steve had now become surrounded by both boys and girls, all vying for his attention, and though he still never introduced you to them, you knew even then that you were the most important person in his life.

As your eyes met Steve’s in the mirror once more, for a moment you could see the eleven year old boy again, and he’s the reason you say yes.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you reminded Steve for the tenth time that night as you looked over at your door to make sure it was locked. Your mom would’ve killed you if she had ever found out Steve never left.

“I know.” Steve crawled into bed next to you and collapsed with a huff. He wrapped his arms around you and you were weak against him.

You’ve always been weak against him.

–

You’re not sure when you first lost Steve to Nancy Wheeler.

They met when you were all in middle school, and yet somehow she hadn’t caught his eye until you were juniors and she was a sophomore.

He had dated other girls before, but none had been like Nancy; she was the only one who truly caught his eye.

You watched as he became infatuated with her. It happened slowly, and then all at once. He stopped walking you to class, stopped sitting a few seats behind you, stopped asking to spend the night.

Steve still saw the wonder in your eyes, though. He still saw the fondness that burned his skin and ground into his bones. He saw your eyes in Nancy’s, and it infuriated him. He loved the girl, he knew he did, but somehow you were always there.

Even after you stopped asking to see him, to sit in his car and drive, to be his best friend again.

Somehow, you were always there. You were always there, long after you stopped calling yourself Steve Harrington’s best friend and he stopped feeling the need to miss you.

Then, one night, when Steve had been on his way to pick Nancy up to go see a movie, he drove past you sitting on a park bench with someone’s arms thrown over your shoulders. He remembers feeling the wind being knocked out of him at the sight, he remembers the possessiveness that clawed so deeply into his chest that he had been afraid for a moment that he was dying.

He doesn’t remember changing lanes and parking there in front of you.

He doesn’t remember the way your face fell when you saw him.

He doesn’t remember the way the guy who had been wrapped around you stood up, asked who Steve was and why he was bothering you.

All Steve remembers is that he no longer saw the fondness in your eyes when you looked at him. The wonder had been gone.

“Y/N?” His voice hadn’t sounded like his own. Your name hadn’t left his lips in months; it felt like exhaling after breaking an oath.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had shaken your head at him, somehow knowing Steve’s feelings before he did. He would come to learn that you had always known his feelings for you, long before he was ever able to figure them out himself. You looked at the guy next to you, your date for the night, and shook your head again. “Not here. Not right now.”

“I know.” But Steve hadn’t known anything. If someone had asked, then, what his name was, all he would’ve been able to answer with was yours. He was yours. “I… I know.”

“I think you should leave, buddy.” The guy you’d been with said, and Steve remembers now that his name had been Jamie. He had been on the soccer team, someone he had once shared a drink with at some stupid party last year.

Steve cleared his throat and avoided your eyes. You knew too much. You knew too much and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to you until then. “Have a good night.”

And then he was gone.

Steve broke up with Nancy a week later.

You never saw Jamie after that night.

–

Neither of you know how it started.

But you know how it will end.

Steve doesn’t, but you don’t blame him.

He sneaks in through your window most nights and takes from you what you’ve always been willing to give him; it’s how your relationship has always been, and yet you’d give him everything and more if he asked you to.

Steve kisses you and holds you at arm’s length and tugs you back in every time.

You always allow yourself to be pulled in.

One night Steve crawls through your window and reeks of alcohol. He trips over himself as he enters, his hair a mess, still grown the length you once suggested to him, and his jean jacket hangs loosely from his thin frame.

“Steve?” You rush towards him and help him through your window, holding your breath as you do so.

He leans heavily against you and slurs his words. “‘M here.”

“You’re here.” You confirm for him, setting him gently against your bed. As he stares at your ceiling with blurred eyes from the alcohol, you start removing his jacket and shoes. He’s not going home tonight in this state, you know his dad will only send him back here again anyways.

“Always here,” he slurs again, rolling his head to the side as he does his best to look at you. He squints, studying your side profile and it takes everything within you to not face him. You busy yourself with his clothes, giving yourself something to distract yourself with. He frowns, even in his drunken state he can read you so well. “Always�� here.”

“You are always here,” you untie his shoes and place them against your wall. “It’s late, Steve. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

“No,” he now tries to fight against you. Words float through his mind, in a haze of letters and sentence fragments, and vaguely there’s something there that he knows he has to say. Some grand epiphany in between his sixth and seventh beer tonight. “I wanna–I wanna talk.”

You freeze.

He sees your discomfort and feels something break within him. He tries desperately to grasp at the words within his mind. “Here. It’s… You’re here.”

“I live here, Steve.” You’re not sure what he’s trying to tell you, but you know that if he keeps talking, he’ll ruin the last remaining line that tethers you to him. “Please, just close your eyes and sleep–”

“You’re always here.” His voice has strength to it now, as if the confession has sobered him up. His eyes are now focused, though his mind is still a haze of everything he hasn’t told you. His movements are still slow, his breath still reeks, and he knows that this isn’t what you deserve. “W-why?”

You close your eyes.

You’ve always known how this would end.

“We can talk in the morning.” You try to appease him, now gently crawling over him so that you can lay his drunken state to rest. “How about you just hold me tonight, okay?”

Steve is gone again, now lost in the alcohol he’s consumed once more, and your offer of him being able to hold you is all he can focus on now. Exhaustion washes over him and he wraps his arms around you, distantly he thinks he remembers someone else doing this to you once. The thought makes him hold onto you tighter, though he thinks that this isn’t fair to you.

Lips close to your ear, he whispers, “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

“I know,” you close your eyes again, scared he’ll see the tears within them.

Neither of you know how it started.

The undoing of whatever you had started long before either one of you truly knew what it was.

One day you were both eleven and Steve had been drawn towards the naivety within you that he never had himself.

Tonight, you’re both seventeen and the naivety is gone, and as the alcohol burns through Steve’s system, he knows it’s because of him.

You’ve always known how this would end.

Steve has only realized it tonight.

⌑ writing masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem #angst #m's writing #dont ask where this came from idek #its sad and very toxic #boooo steve #might do a follow up on this #a part 2 if ya will #this was heavily inspired by normal people btw

136 notes · View notes

bingbongsupremacy · 3 days

Text

Closure Pt. 2

Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, idk what else

Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave with you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.

Part Summary: He wrote a letter. You don't need him. Right?

*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist

Based off of Taylor Swift Song Closure. This was a request. I tried to make everything as general as possible. Pls let me know if missed something ty.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

No one was supposed to know we were dating. Steve said he didn’t want his teammates to bug me. He didn’t want people to overreact when they found out about us and say mean shit. At the time, I agreed. I mean, Steve’s the king of Hawkins high. I wouldn’t be the first girl he’s dated who’s had rumors spread about them.

Hiding us was harder than we thought. A month or so after we got together Tommy found out and told the whole team. Gradually the whole school found out. Gossip spreads like wildfire, especially in a town like Hawkins.

During the weeks after we broke up, I started to think about our secret relationship.

He wasn’t trying to protect me. He was trying to protect his reputation. Steve might not show it but deep down he’s just like everyone else. He’s got insecurities too. He obsesses over anything negative that’s said about him, analyzing everything that others think is imperfect about him until he finds a way to change it.

That’s something I noticed sophomore year when we started to get a little closer.

He was kind to me, but he wasn’t perfect. I don’t know for sure but I think he still messed with underclassmen, bullying them for praise from Tommy and Carol. He wanted to be liked by everyone, especially those two assholes.

He was always going to pick them over me.

“ Honey, this came in for you today. “ My mom breaks me out of my thoughts.

I look up from my stack of paperwork. “ What? From who? “ My brows furrow in confusion. Who would send mail to my parents’ house? I haven’t lived here in years.

“ It’s from Steve. “ My moms eyes scan over the stark white envelope.

My heart sinks.

What the fuck does he want?

I haven’t seen or talked to him since graduation 7 years ago. What could he want with me? Last I heard he got a job at Family Video and Nancy broke up with him.

He knows I’m here. He has to. Fucking Hawkins. When one person knows everyone knows. Mrs. Henderson must’ve told someone when I ran into her at the gas station.

“ What ever happened to you and Steve? Do you both still talk? “ My mom asks curiously while handing over my mail.

Oh right. I never told her.

“ We fell out of touch. You know, life. " I shrug, hoping that's enough for her.

" Oh, that's so sad sweetie. I'm sorry. " She sends me a small sympathetic smile. " That's always hard when you lose touch with someone you love. " She gently pats my shoulder.

Love.

Steve didn't love me.

I send her a small smile, hoping to drop the topic. " It happens, ma. "

" Well, I'll you get to it. " She dismisses herself, leaving me to the letter in my hands.

I trace the sharp corners of the envelope. Should I open it? Do I want to?

I wonder what it says.

What could he have to say to me after all of these years? It couldn't be something worth my time. Not after the shit that happened in high school. Right?

But what if it is?

Fuck it. I'm curious.

I pull open the envelope and let the torn paper fall into my lap. A neatly folded letter greens me, the bright white stationary paper matching the envelope.

This is it. Here we go.

I pull open the letter. Dark blue pen lines starkly contrast the white paper. Steve's familiar handwriting fills a good portion of the page. At the bottom his squiggly signature lies, bold and exactly the same as I remember.

Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you. I heard you're back in town. I've been meaning to do this for a long time. I've debated writing to you for years. I didn't know if I had anything good enough to send to you.

I was an asshole to you. You didn't deserve how I broke up with you. I feel horrible about how I treated you. About how I let other people change my opinion and control my actions. I should've stood stronger with what I thought.

That's something I always loved about you. You didn't let other people sway your opinions. I'm sure you still don't. You thought for yourself.

You are so much braver than I am. You didn't compromise yourself for others.

I've thought about what happened for years. About how you must have felt.

I hope you're well. I hope you've been able to move on and you've continued to be yourself. I know I don't deserve to say that, I just wish you the best.

I wanted to explain to you why I did what I did. I owe it to you. I was selfish. I got caught up in the high school popularity shit. I know it's stupid. I wanted to be Hawkins High's main guy. I wanted the Prom King title. I wanted the attention.

I really did like you. You made me feel safe and understood. You were always patient and kind. You urged me to be me, even when I felt like caving under pressure. You liked me for me, not for who I was trying to be. You deserved better than me.

People started to talk. You know. You heard the rumors.

At first, I thought I could handle it. I thought it wouldn't bug me. I thought I could push past it all. I cracked. Tommy and Carol jumped on the wagon and it pushed me over the edge. I couldn't bare the thought of losing the respect I'd worked so hard to get. I couldn't handle the teasing I'd get from the guys after games or the looks Tommy'd send my way when he saw us together.

It was wrong. I didn't think about you. About how you must've felt and how you were handling everything that was going on. It was Senior Year. I should've held on. We would've been out of this shit hole in a few months anyway, I don't know why I didn't just ignore it all. That's one of my biggest regrets.

I've been in therapy for a few years now. I've worked past all that surface-level shallow shit. I really see just how much I hurt you, and for that I'm so sorry.

I don't expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know that you're the first girl I ever loved and I am so grateful for you. Our relationship sent me on a path to help myself, and for that I will always love you.

Thank you.

-Steve Harrington

P.S. The week before we broke up I was going to give this to you. I never did.

I glance down at the envelope in my lap and open it. At the bottom lays a shiny silver necklace. A small gem, my birthstone, lays in the center. It glimmers in the light. It's beautiful.

I turn the gem over and spot a small engraving on the back.

SH +Y/N

For a moment I'm torn.

Should I write him back? Should we talk?

Part of me does miss him. I miss his laugh. His playful teasing. The way he looked at me.

No.

He hurt me. A lot.

He can't just send a letter and make it better. Why didn't he talk to me in person if this really weighed on him as much as he says it did? Why didn't he call me?

I don't need him. I'm fine. I've been fine without him for years. I'm not going to let him back into my life because he feels bad about his actions and insecurities.

I left Hawkins for a reason. I needed to get away from Steve. I needed him out of my life.

I'm not going to let him back in for his sake.

I don't need him.

I stand up, taking the papers and necklace in my hand. I walk over to the trashcan near my dresser. Without a second thought, I drop everything into the can.

The necklace makes a small clunking sound as it hits the bottom of my empty can.

The rustling of papers quiets and so does my pounding heart.

I'm fine on my own.

(Do we like this ending? Or should I try to make another part? )

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @queen-apple24

#fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #stranger things x reader #x you #x female reader #xreader #x chubby reader #x plus size reader #stranger things x plus size reader #steve harrington x plus size reader #supernatural x plus size readers #plussize!reader #plus size reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic

88 notes · View notes

ash5monster01 · 2 days

Text

52nd Street

Chapter Six - Until The Night 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, angst, smut, oral (fem receiving), p in v, dirty talk, praise, no use of protection, language.

Summary: Finally at a real job, Steve finds that the both of you aren’t as close anymore. He yearns for the nights when you two are finally alone.

word count: 3.2k

Five ←→ Seven

Masterlist

Fall 1990

But now it feels as though the day goes on forever

It was great, at first. It was great when you planned the beautiful backyard wedding, and it was great when Steve landed his big job, even better when you were able to save up enough to buy back Steve’s childhood home. You were both living the dream, enjoying the married life, and finally doing what you both pictured when you first started dating. Thing was, no one ever really brings up how hard it can be.

When you were just dating it was easy, you both worked the same job, got to go home to your apartment together, were extremely involved in the other’s life. Now Steve left for work and you worked from home. When you were done with that you ran errands, and found yourself lacking any conviction in life. As for Steve, the job would run him down, doing the very thing he promised himself he never would, but he wanted to provide for you. Wanted to share a life that wasn’t constantly a struggle and if work was the only thing he had to sacrifice, then so be it. Just sometimes, he couldn’t shake that mood when he got home.

Because of all of this you had lost some of that passion, that desperation to always be with each other, and Steve was determined to get it back. He did his part, he never asked where you go during the day when he leaves for work in the morning, the both of you going your different ways to seperate situations, and it wasn't that easy anymore. It was required of him to do what must be done and give his time to total strangers. He could no longer save that all for you and it made his days feel like they go on forever. More than they ever did before. So today, on this very Friday he promised himself he would make the most of it. Until the night, when he could make it up to you. He might just make it, eyes trained on the clock and small pile of paperwork in front of him.

"Hey Lenny" you smile fondly at the bag boy that had been working in the local grocery for a few months now. Considering you went shopping at the same time every other Friday, you had come to know many of the workers here.

"Hey Mrs. Harrington, beautiful day today" the sweet young boy answered and you couldn't help but cringe at the name. Mrs. made you feel old, which hopefully you weren’t yet. Then again you were married at twenty three, feeling vaguely like a teenager and an adult all at the same time. You always wondered if things would have been different if you and Steve had gone to college. Either way, you only liked it when Steve called you Mrs. Harrington because it normally led to something a bit more pleasing.

"One of the last good ones Lenny, it'll be cold before you know it" you grinned at him as you loaded the items onto the belt, already mentally checking off that you had everything you would need for the next two weeks. Lost in another world you do not notice the big haired brunnette rolled up behind you. Startling almost instantly when she calls your name.

"Hey Nancy" you grin at her, her soft feautres beaming back at you. Still gorgeous as the first day you met her, you can't help but feel the twinge in your gut everytime you remember she was the first girl your husband loved. You had to remind yourself that was another lifetime ago, years seperating the two and now you were married to Steve and she was engaged to Johnathon, the wedding invite for this coming summer already on your fridge.

"How're you, how's Steve, heard he finally took that big job his Dad offered him? You'll have to have us over for dinner soon, I'm desperate to see how you redecorated" she rambles out, too many thoughts on the forefront of her mind and suddenly you feel overwehlmed. Mind stuck on your absent husband who tried his hardest but couldn't escape the effects of his job. How bored you were all alone all day just to have Steve come home to tired to talk. To tired to do anything really.

Nancy see's the tears rimming your eyes almost instantly and she suddenly feels guilty for anything she had said wrong. She's quick to beckon you along, helping you with your groceries and pretty soon it's not long until you are both stood out of the store, bagged items clinking along in your carts. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, really, I'm just overwehlmed" you try to tell her, eyes red and strained from fighting off tears. She shakes her head as you both reach your car, her automatically helping. You already felt bad for scarring Lenny with your meltdown.

"Talk to me, you know I'll understand" she urges, eyes full of fondness and you know it's true. She knew what it was like to be in a long time relationship at your age, she was going through it the same as you, and if anyone understood it would be her. With this in mind you let out a heavy sigh and decide to allow it.

"Steve has just been distant lately. It's not his fault, I know it's the job. He never wanted to work for his Dad, you know that, but he took the job for us. He wanted something that could sustain a future and I agreed, but now we've lost that connection. He comes home too tired for me and sometimes I wonder if we would've been better off staying in our small apartment and running that stupid video store" you spill, all of your fears and emotions barren for the girl who least expected to be in the store parking lot with you, sharing your sadness.

"That's not true, and I'm sure he feels bad about it too. Steve loves you, I see it everytime he looks at you. You guys are just stuck right now" she says with the soft shake of her head and you can't help but sigh. You weren't sure how much more you could take with this no talking thing.

“God I hope you’re right, it would be so tragic if the end of us was something as silly as this. Especially when the whole reason he proposed was because I promised I’d love him just the way he is” you say, hands pressing up to your eyes to relieve some tension and tears. Nancy shifts uncomfortably, knowing she was probably part of the very reason Steve had those trust issues. A lifetime ago she had once called the entirety of him bullshit and she regretted it always.

“Just, try to talk to him tonight. Who knows, maybe things will be different” she smiles at you, silver engagement ring glimmering in the sun as she sets the last of your bags in the trunk. You smile right back, collecting the small brunette into a hug.

“Thanks Nance, we’ll have you and Johnathon over for dinner soon. I promise” you tell her and she smiles, hugging you back tightly.

“Good luck tonight” she tells you as she pulls back, gentle features searching your own and you smile, a weight already lifted from your shoulders after your brief talk with her.

“Until the night” you nod and she gives one last smile and wave before pushing her cart to her own car and leaving you to make your way home. Until the night, you just might make it, when you see him again.

You’re only halfway through putting groceries away when you hear the familiar rumble of the BMW pull into the driveway. You hate the way your shoulders deflate just at the idea of Steve coming in and barely paying you any mind. So you continue to put the groceries away as he makes his way in, tie already loose around his neck as he spots you working away in the kitchen.

Steve notices how you barely even turn to greet him, a sad smile on your face as you continue to do what you always did on Friday nights when he got home. He can see how afraid you are that you’ve both changed but sadly the two of you were just getting older. No longer eighteen year old kids excited to explore the big world. You both had been through a lot and he hated that he was slowly turning into his father. A shell of a man no longer in touch with the love he might’ve shared. This very thought is what brings him to walk towards you and wrap his arms around you from behind.

“Hi Rosy” he breathily whispers, head ducking and placing a kiss on the expanse of your neck. You can’t help but stiffen in his arms, almost shocked by the action. This was the Steve you first fell in love with all those years ago, and you hated how odd it was to see him.

“How was work?” you bring yourself to ask and Steve sighs, chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Terrible, couldn’t do a thing just waiting to come home and see you” he admits, knowing all to well how he couldn’t keep his mind off of you all day. You can’t help the way your eyebrows draw together in suspicion and you’re quick to turn around in his arms and face your husband.

“Where is this coming from?” And the question makes the guilt twist in his gut with disgust, hating how he had been treating you these last few months. That was going to change, it needed to change.

“I know I haven’t been great lately. Sometimes it’s hard to remember how many broken hearts and lonely faces we’ve shared over the years. We’ve had lovers come and go but we agreed to stay for each other and I haven’t been doing my part” Steve earnestly says, brows furrowed in sadness and his hands locked around your waist as if he let go you would disappear.

“Steve-“ you start with the shake of your head but he’s quick to stop you, hazel eyes searching your own and trying to portray all the regret buried deep within him.

“I know I’ll have my fears like every man and you’ll have tears like every woman but we got this. Even if today we’re unsure but this is what we believe, I believe in us and I want to know how we can go on? I’m going to make a change because not having you until the night is torture” the words he speaks are ones you had been dying to hear for a very long time and you can’t help but smile as your hands reach to cradle his face.

“It’s been torture for me too” you tell him and just like that his lips are sealed against yours in a kiss, his body weight pushing against you and you get sandwiched between him and the counter. You kiss him like a woman starved, which technically you were. Starving for a desirable touch from your husband who wants nothing but you in that moment.

As Steve kisses you he makes a promise to himself. A promise that when the sun goes down and the day is over, and the last of the light is gone as people pour into the street, he will make his way to you. Getting closer as each of the cars turn their headlights on, you’ll be opening up just as they’re closing it down. Work was no longer going to control him, it was just something for him to do during the day until he came home and dedicated himself to you. He knows this to be true when your fingers slide up and through his hair, lower belly nudging against him. He just smiles into your lips as his hands hook under your legs and lift you to the counter.

“I love you” he says in a way that reassures instead of searches for a response. You smile into the kiss, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against you.

“Then show me” you urge him, fingers digging into his shoulders and you slowly grind against the zipper of his jeans. God bless casual Fridays. Steve just grins, hands hooking under you to carry you to the bedroom, dinner and groceries now long forgotten. He loves that while people were going to sleep, you’ll be just starting to touch. He planned to have it that way every night, thankful he was finally beginning to feel again and beginning to give. It had been such a long time and he liked how it made him feel alive.

“You’re so perfect” Steve grins against your skin, kisses trailing down your neck and to your chest. The sensation brings you back to the very first time you ever slept together, how sweet and caring he was. Just the idea of it brings your hands to his hair, softly tugging just as he starts nudging up the hem of your shirt and placing a soft kiss on your stomach. When his fingers curl in the waistband of your pants you can’t help but whimper, needing so much more.

Steve grins at the sound, wasting no time in tugging your pants down, revealing your panties where a wet patch had already started to form. He groans as his tongue glides over it, desperate for a taste of you because it had been so long. Writhing beneath him, he takes his time as he slowly slides the panties down your legs and revealing your glistening core. Steve smiles at you while he drags his finger through your folds, collecting your arousal on the tip of his finger and nudging your clit.

“Please Steve” you beg him as he removes his finger and places it in his mouth. His eyes sparkle with amusement, much darker from the mix of lust and teasing he had been doing.

“Please what?” he asks while feigning innocence. As if he wasn’t currently between your legs right now.

“I need your mouth” you tell him, voice heavy and full of desire. Steve doesn’t need to be told twice as his dips down, nose nudging against your clit as he licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan, the sound becoming strangled when his lips close around your clit and suck hard. Your moans encourage him, bringing him to eat you like a man starved. Your hands find his hair again, caressing the brunette locks as he shoves a finger inside.

“So fucking tight” he mutters, voice raspy and strangled. You can’t help but admire the way he tries his best not to grind into the side of the bed as he listens to your moans.

You do Steve a favor and make quick work of removing your top and bra as he continues to eat you out like an expert. Your legs start to shake the minute you pinch your own nipples and when Steve looks up to see what you’re doing, he nearly faints. “Let me baby,” he muffles into your pussy as you feel that coil begin to tighten. His hands replace your own, groping at the dough of your breasts as you try not to grind against his face.

“Fuck Steve, I’m going to cum” you tell him and that only brings him to move faster, tongue exploring all of you as you shake against him. When he sucks hard on your clit again, you find your eyes rolling back in your head as your orgasm washes over you. He smirks proudly, wiping at his lip as he stands from you, watching as you shake against the mattress.

“Such a good girl” he grins, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt. You watch him shamelessly, admiring the bulge tucked away in his jeans. Steve smiles the whole time, watching you admire him as he strips to his naked form. Your mouth waters at the sight of his chest hair and you can’t help but giggle as his naked form crawls over top of you.

“I’ve needed this” you tell him, panting as he reaches to nudge the tip of him against your folds. His eyes bore into yours, desire for you through the roof.

“Yeah baby?” he asks and you nod, almost on the verge of tears if he didn’t do something soon.

“Yeah, needed you” you tell him in a whine and Steve grins, guiding himself into you, slowly sinking in. You grip his shoulders at the sensation, nails leaving crescent moon marks against his shoulder blades.

“Fuck” you breathily mutter and Steve grins, moving just as agonizingly slow as he fully bottoms himself out. Steves head tips back at the sensation, not moving right away as your walls flutter around him.

“I wanted you to know before I leave again, before the light of dawn, and before this evening can end, I have been waiting for this for so long” Steve says and before you can respond to the heart felt words he’s pulling back and plunging himself in again. You moan out as Steve finds a steady pace, head dropping back down to look at you. He doesn’t miss the way your breasts bounce from his thrusts and he finds himself steadying with his hands on your chest, ramming into you as he feels your nipples pebble beneath his palms.

“So perfect Rosy” he praises, closing his eyes tight as he struggles not to come undone. Still sensitive from your first orgasm you find it hard to even register how good it all feels. When he starts hitting that one spot you feel your back arch against the covers. Steve knows this tell, had seen it a hundred times before, so he quickens his pace, moaning as you tighten around him more and more.

Before you can even process it, your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, nearly knocking you out. You practically leave earth as Steve continues to drive into you, relishing in the vice grip you have around his length. His hips stutter when his own orgasm follows, coating your insides as he smiles and starts to drop his body weight against you. When you both calm he doesn’t bother sliding out just yet, enjoying the feeling of being this close to you. Being one with you.

All day he kept thinking until the night he just might make it. If he just kept holding on for when he saw you again. If he had known it would’ve been like this, he never would’ve survived. So he lays against you, bare skin slick with sweat and sticking to his own. He loves that he can hear the thump of your heart in his ear, pounding as you came down from your high. He waited his whole life for someone like you and to think he almost wasted a second of it. He was so glad he figured it all out. Just how badly he needed you and always would.

“Now that was fun” you say, hands softly grazing through his hair as he relaxed against you and Steve smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your chest.

“Good, because it’s happening every night from here on out baby” he says with a smile and you laugh lightly, Steve’s head bouncing against you because of it.

“Until the night then”

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @notlilyyyy @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3 @momospeaches47 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @xuimhao @lianna75 @lvjmel @sadbitchfangirl @halflifejess @starkleila @ellharrington @avobabe87

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

83 notes · View notes

harrywavycurly · 2 days

Text

Texting Boyfriend Steve Harrington Part 2: Code Green

Masterlist: Here

CW: None

Tag List: @blckburd

A/N: Steve needs to learn to set boundaries and who better to help him with that than you? Enjoy✨

59 notes · View notes

politics-bad-learn-attention · 17 hours

Text

#reigisa #hijab girl #stock market #luka couffaine #ftm ed #twinkgay #fierrochase #namelessshipping #biker #the half of it #hugh jackman #steve harrington x reader #mbmbam #the wonder years #rowan blanchard

122 notes · View notes

chaoticharrington · 17 hours

Text

Chapter Three: Queer Panic and Smutty Books

***BEFORE YOU READ ANY FURTHER THERE IS GOING TO BE SEX,BDSM,AND OTHER GENERAL NSFW THINGS IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR A BLANK BLOG OR A BLOG WITH NO AGE PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT,IF I SEE IT, YOU WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED! THANKS<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Steve being sad, Robin being awkward, Eddie being sexy as hell, kissing, cum eating, blow jobs, oral female receiving, major dirty talk, Dom! Eddie, masterbation, voyerism (if i've missed any lemme know)

Summary: Eddie takes you out on a proper date, and you have some words with Steve

Authors Note: YAYYYY THE SMUT HAS COMMENCEDDDD! i'm sorry this took so long to upload, I genuinely was having major writers block writing the smut for some reason, plus I just wanted it to be perfect for you guys! Anyways ENJOY :D 8k words

**Chapter One Chapter Two**

You could get lost in this man’s lips forever, constantly intertwined. He kissed you like a man starved, like his life depended on every kiss. He tasted like whiskey, you didn’t even like whiskey that much, but you couldn’t care less. You want him, you want him in such a primal way that you huff when he finally breaks off the kiss and touches his forehead to yours.

“Slow down there tiger” he breathes as his chest rises harshly up and down trying to catch his breath. You huff in protest, trying and failing to pull him back into a kiss with your arms still around his neck. But Eddie is too strong, he pulls your arms from around his neck and holds your wrists in one of his hands and holds your chin with the other.

“If we’re gonna do this I wanna do it right, kay?”, he says, nuzzling his nose against yours. You look at him confused, unsure of what he means by that, head still clouded with lust and want.

“Do it right?”, you question him. He smirks at you like you’re oblivious and missing something obvious. He runs his thumb over your lips while he explains.

“Well..If we’re going to do this...us.. together. I want to take you out on a proper date, you can pick where we go. But I want to show how you deserve to be treated. That alright with you?” he proclaims.

You bite your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to spill out and nod your head in excitement. This was really happening, with him. With Eddie fucking Munson.

“Good girl”, he coos, looking at your lips again like a lion hunting its prey. And you almost give in, and let him kiss you, touch you, fuck you. But Eddie was right, you wanted to see what it felt like to be treated like a woman, like someone desirable.

So, instead you groan and put your head into his chest, inhaling his scent. He smelled like cigarettes and leather, you breathed in deeper like a woman starved.

“You’re making it really fucking hard here mister”, you groan into his chest. His laugh vibrating his chest making you look up to see the smile on his face, eliciting a smile on your face too.

There he is.. there’s my Eddie... MY Eddie

“I didn’t know being a gentleman was considered a crime nowadays,” he taunted, his eyes twinkling under the light of the kitchen. You roll your eyes.

Oh yeah, he’s still Eddie

“No not that Eds... what you said AFTER that” you said your voice faltering at the end, your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, unable to utter the actual words “Good girl” out loud.

Eddie raises his eyebrows, clearly amused by your sudden shyness after basically eating his face off. “Oooohhh you mean when I called you a good girl?” he asks knowingly.

You look down at Eddies feet, unable to look him in the eyes, your cheeks surely bright red by this point. Eddie’s hand that’s still resting on your chin, forces you to look at him again.

“So easy to fluster, this is gonna be fuunn,” he taunts lowly, giving you a quick kiss on your lips. You whine against his lips indignantly.

The two of you spend the rest of the night entwined on the couch, alternating between kissing each other or how the two of you usually were; just laughing and talking about life.

You felt so free, like part of you that you had left in a cage long ago was starting to flap its wings. At some point the talking and kissing ceased and the both of you fell asleep entangled together on the couch. As you were falling asleep, you genuinely thought that you had never been this comfortable in your life.

You woke up in the middle of the night with a gasp, waking Eddie up too, making him fall off the bed with a thud.

“Gawd princess you gotta warn a fella, I’m not invincible like the young bucks you’ve been with before” he says sleepily, rubbing an ache out of the small of his back.

You giggle at him and look at the time on the clock, 5:04 am, you sigh in relief, still time to sneak back into Violet’s room and get some sleep before she wakes up for work.

“I can’t believe we fell asleep on the couch” you whisper, trying not to make too much noise as you get off the couch. You were young, but no one’s back feels good after sleeping on the couch.

“I was just so comfy, with you laying on me.” Eddie admits.

“Me too,” You reply sheepishly, now fully awake you remember the events that transpired not a few hours ago.

You help Eddie up off the floor, he immediately wraps his arms around you. You hum into his touch, appreciating how natural this already feels to you. He kisses the top of your head and then lifts your head up with both of his hands and kisses your lips firmly.

This time he moans into the kiss, hearing him sets your skin on fire. You squirm out of his arms to look at his face to make sure it was real, that this is really happening.

He looks back at you scanning your face for any doubt but finds none and smiles idly at you.

“I should probably go back to Violet’s room,” you voice.

He does a dramatic frown and pouting noise, before kissing you one last time.

“Just need one more for the road,” he teases, eventually releasing you.

The two of you walk up the stairs together, holding hands the entire way, parting at the top of the stairs to go your separate ways. You feel giddy, never having felt this way before.

You get one last peak at him before he goes into the master bedroom at the other end of the hallway. You touch the doorknob to Violet’s room and turn it slowly. Trying to make as little noise possible in hopes of not waking her up. You slide under the covers soundlessly. Staring up at your best friend’s ceiling.

What the fuck am I doing?

Violet turns over in her sleep and rests her arm over your chest, completely unaware of what transpired between you and her dad. You take a deep breath in, willing yourself to calm down so you can sleep.

Deciding that future you, would think more about this tomorrow, right now you just wanted to bask in the fact that Eddie Munson kissed you.. and now he wants to take you out on a date.

You wake up to the sound of Violets work alarm, you hear groaning next to you as Violet wakes up to turn the alarm off. She sits up and rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

“Good Morning babe,” she says tiredly.

You smile, she looks so much like her dad, her deep brown eyes, her infectious smile, even how her eyes look when she’s just woken up. Little things you never noticed before because you tried so hard not to think about her Eddie. But now you can’t not see it, not after last night.

“Morning,” you mutter, still waking up yourself.

You sit up in bed, you’re exhausted, between the emotional rollercoaster of a day you had yesterday and staying up late with Eddie, it feels like you’ve gotten almost no sleep.

“What’s that?” Violet asks, pointing at you.

“What’s what Vi?” you look at her curiously.

“Is-is that a hickey on your neck?” she asks a bit louder.

You cover your neck faster than a flash of lighting, you were so caught up in the moment with Eddie yesterday you weren’t even thinking about whether or not him kissing and nibbling on your neck would leave marks.

Violet moves your hand away to get a better look at your hickey, you try to fight her off, but she pins your hands with her legs, stuck in her grasp. Your decisions from last night suddenly becoming very very real and very scary. You wanted to tell Violet eventually about you and Eddie. But not right now, not before you’ve even had your first date.

“Damn... He kissed you like that and still rejected you. What a fucking prick, I was so caught up in helping you yesterday I didn’t see this last night” she says still admiring your hickey.

Relief floods your system, Violet assumes you got the hickey from Steve. Why wouldn’t she? She has no reason not to trust you, until now.

“Yeah, that’s why I was so embarrassed” you lied, you fucking hated lying to her, but you’d tell her when you were ready; And the timing just wasn’t right.

“Give me his address so I can kick his ass, better yet give me the name of the Dean so I can get him fired for using you like that,” she retorts.

“No Vi it’s really okay, I’m only going to be in his class for a couple more months and then I won’t have to see him ever again,” you reply.

Violet nods seemingly satisfied with your answer and got off you. You watch her as she gets out of bed and starts to get ready for work, quickly concealing the hickey Eddie gave to you the night before. You really do have the best friend in the entire world.

Even with everything that happened with you and Eddie, your interaction with Steve still really stung. Remembering what happened, felt like a pit was sitting in your stomach. Thinking back on it you don’t blame him for how he reacted, he’s your professor, he could lose his job if the wrong person found out about the two of you.

You do regret how you reacted to him though, you’re not usually one that is quick to anger, but you just felt so rejected by him. Maybe you would apologize to him after class, you hoped he would accept your apology.

Violet lets you borrow some of her clothes and the two of you get ready for the day in her room. You do some light make up, while Violet fixes her hair.

“Fuck where is it?” You see Violet searching around in one of her drawers looking for something.

“Do you mind running to the bathroom for me and seeing if my hairspray is in there?” she asks.

You nod and head out into the hallway, looking at the stairs that you walked up last night hand in hand with Eddie. You can’t help but smile lightly at the memory.

You walk down the hall to the bathroom and go to open the door. But as you reach for the handle it swings open. Coming face to face with a shirtless Eddie, wearing only a towel around his waist.

You lips go into an “O” shape at the sight of him, your panties practically dropping to the basement floor. He smiles widely at you, looking at Violets door and then scooping you up into a kiss. You soften into his grip, glad that he hadn’t changed his mind about the two of you since sleeping.

“Mornin’ m’lady” he smiles into your hair.

“Morning Eds” you say as you kiss him on the cheek because that’s as far as you can reach on your tippy toes. It takes every atom in your body to not jump him right there in broad daylight with Violet in the other room. He beams at the nickname, giving you another swift kiss.

“Did you find it?!” Violet yells from the other room.

Both of your eyes go wide, and Eddies hands drop to his sides at the sound of his daughter. He winks at you before leaving to go to his room. Your head now dizzy after kissing Eddie, you scramble through the bathroom drawers to find what Violet needed, and running back to her room before she went looking for you.

The rest of the morning continuing with business as usual, the three of you eat breakfast together, courtesy of Eddie. He made French toast and bacon, and he put whip cream smiley faces on all the French toast stacks.

Violet announces that she’s spending the following weekend at Quinns, because they were going to have a Lord of The Rings marathon, something they both take very seriously. Violet leaves soon after to go to work, while you and Eddie both take your time finishing your food.

“So next weekend then?” Eddie questions, with a mischievous smile.

You look up at him from your plate, “Can’t wait,” you confess.

He looks down at his food again, pushing his food around his plate with his fork like a child. His eyebrows are knit together like he’s thinking really hard.

“You alright over there old man?” you joke, nudging him with your foot under the table.

He looks up at you like you broke his concentration, “Yeah, I’m good, I just don’t want you to think that I’m trying to keep you a secret or anything, ya know? I know Violet is grown and what I do with my life isn’t really her business anymore, but I just don’t think I’m ready to tell her yet if that’s okay with you?” he explains.

You look at him kindly and nod, feeling the same way. You hoped that when the both of you did eventually tell Violet that she would at least want the both of you to be happy, even if it took her awhile to get used to it.

You finish breakfast shortly after, needing to stop at your apartment before school to grab some books. You grab all your stuff from Violet’s room, and you’re about to put your stuff in the car before he calls out to you.

“Not so fast princess” turning you around and pinning you against the inside of the front door. Cradling your face in his hands, a sensation you were now very familiar with, dipping down and kissing you fiercely.

“I could get used to this” he whispers into your neck, giving a swift peck before grabbing your bookbag and walking you out to your car. You were so shocked you didn’t know what to say, a guy had never carried anything for you before, you could get used to this too.

“Text me later k?” he asks, you had his number in your phone because technically the two of you work together, but up until this point you had been too chicken to ever text for anything other than necessary for work, and maybe a few memes you thought he’d get a kick out of.

You nod and give him one final kiss, addicted to his lips at this point, and then drive off down the road towards your apartment.

Driving away from the safety of Eddie’s house was making the anxiety in your stomach boil up into your throat. You had to see Steve today and you had to apologize. As much as you didn’t want to go to class and face him, you knew it was the right thing to do. If you wanted to keep your job and work civilly alongside him then you had to.

Before you could even think about Steve, you had a huge paper due on Queer Cinema in your Gender Studies class. Gender studies really was one of your favorite classes that was sure to put you in a good mood before you had to face the music.

Professor Buckley spent a majority of the class showing clips from iconic queer films and discussing the importance of representation in media. She was in the middle of taking about a scene she had just played and why its relevant, when a male student raises his hand.

“Plus, he’s really hot.” he said.

The entire class erupts into laughter, and one of the girls you sit behind in your sociology class chimed in.

“Not hotter than Professor Harrington though!” she giggled, a bunch of other girls and guys from the class agree along with her.

Robin rolling her eyes, “This class is supposed to give me hope for humanity, not swooning over some GUY, and dingus isn’t as hot as you all think. Plus, he’s really into TAs so you’re all out of luck” she says nonchalantly, not knowing that your Steve’s TA.

The room went silent, the only sound you’re able to hear is your heart begging to explode from your chest. The few people that you have in your sociology class look at you in horror, Robin covering her hand with her mouth realizing what she had done.

Your feet move without you thinking, standing up and grabbing your things and fleeing the room as fast as they could take you. You were utterly embarrassed with tears threatening to spill from your eyes for a third time in less than 24 hours. You don’t even know where you’re going until you do, and you’re standing outside of Steve’s classroom. You know he likes to get there early to get everything ready for your class.

You open the door and shut it, Steve jumps at the noise. Lips formed in a tight smile once he realizes that it’s you.

“So do you do this with every one of your TAs then?” you say loudly, hoping it would stop him from hearing the quiver in your voice.

He walks carefully over to you, like you’re a wounded animal ready to pounce. You can’t bare to look at his face, so you look at the floor, blinking vigorously willing the tears back into your eyes.

“What are you talking about?” he says carefully.

“I was just made a fool of in Robins class, because one of the girls thinks you’re hot and she said that you only have a thing for TAs, was all this just a fucking game to you Steve? To get me to like you and then make me feel like an idiot?” You spat at him, looking him in the eyes now so he can see the anger behind them.

Steve sighs loudly and nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes look tired, like he didn’t sleep a wink the night before. “No- I, No that’s not even remotely true, Y/N you have to believe me, nothing like this has ever happened before. This is all uncharted territory for me,” he says tiredly.

“How do you expect me to believe you? After rejecting me the way you did last night, after weeks of flirting with me. You were just toying with me all along, weren’t you? I thought you were better than that!” tears now spilling over your cheeks, conceding in your fight to keep them in.

“Y/N I- Fuck I’m so sorry this is all so fucked up. I didn’t expect anything of this to happen, I shouldn’t have kissed you, I should have waited until you weren’t my student anymore, so it was less complicated. But you have to believe me when I say that my feelings for you are genuine, regardless of how messed up it is. None of this should’ve happened. Please just let me explain and it’ll all make sense,” he begs.

You take a deep breath in and wipe the tears from your eyes, “You are right about one thing Steve, this never should have happened” you seethe.

Steves eyes sadden, and he nods in defeat, knowing he’s lost the battle and you along with it.

“Go find yourself another TA to fuck with Steve because I’m done.” you growl.

You turn your heel and walk out of the room, working alongside Steve was no longer an option. If you didn’t need the credit to graduate you would’ve marched into the student center and drop his class right then and there. But your education was more important than some guy.

The rest of the day happens in a blur, unable to concentrate on any of your classes that day. Your mind constantly just floating aimlessly in the air, if someone coughed to hard in your direction you’d probably float away. Going through the motions of the day, kept you safe, steering clear of all thoughts about Steve was the best course of action for the moment.

You did feel conflicted, your feelings continuing to confuse you. Why were you so upset about this? Your thing with Eddie is so good, the best you ever had, so why are you so upset? It’s all so confusing, you’ve never liked one person as much as you like Eddie, and reluctantly Steve too. Yet it felt so right, like it was the most normal thing in the world, for the short while before the whole thing went to shit.

As much as you are furious with Steve, it also made things easier and less confusing. Now you could just focus on Eddie, and that you didn’t mind at all. You could spend every day of forever with him and it still would never be enough. That’s not to say that thoughts of Steve still didn’t pop up in your mind and dreams, he still was your teacher so you still saw him almost every day. The first few days after the initial shock of what Robin had said were awkward, both in class with Steve and Robin.

Robin was relentless with her apologies, apologizing for it every chance she got.

“I’m so sorry, sometimes I just do this thing where I start talking, and then I don’t know what I’m saying until I say it. It’s like I blackout in the middle of taking and then by the time I realize, the damage has already been done and I’ve put my whole foot in my mouth. I’m so sorry,” she rambles anxiously.

“Its fine really, water under the bridge,” you dismiss her kindly.

You really didn’t blame Robin, it’s not like she knew what was going on between you and Steve, she was just trying to make a joke, a bad joke but a joke, nonetheless.

Steve, on the other hand, went completely silent. His classes were filled with less energy than before. He seemed tired, like he stopped sleeping through the night. His skin seemed less shiny, his eyes no longer bright, and his hair always seemed slightly out of place from anxiously running his fingers through it. Steve was a mess.

You almost felt bad, yes he hurt you, but there was a part inside of you that still cared deeply for the man that you once had a connection with. He didn’t try to talk to you anymore or explain himself after the fight that the two of you had. Just radio silence.

You tried your best not to think about it too hard, plus you had an amazing distraction. It had been about a week since you and Eddie first made plans to go out on a date, with that date now fast approaching only a few days from now. And still stumped as to where your first date should be, maybe you were over thinking it, but you wanted it to be perfect. Your head was swirling with so many different ideas. You wanted to do something unique, that would show him parts of you. You weren’t always the best with your words, but if you could show him parts of yourself maybe he’d understand. You were shaken from your thoughts when your phone buzzed a few times in a row.

“hey”

“heyyy”

“I’m bored and you’re cute call me when you’re free x”

You smile widely at your phone; Eddie always knew how to make every day better. You pick up your phone and dial his number.

“Hi handsome,” you beam into your phone.

“Hey baby, how was your day?” you can hear the smile in his voice

“Eh fine, I’d rather be with you,” you confess.

You really wish you could be with Eddie, but instead you were surrounded by your textbooks swamped with the homework you had this week.

“Then come over here, Violets out, and I have the house to myself,” he asks.

“Can’t, homework,” you sigh.

“You can do your homework here, I won’t distract you. Pinky Promise! Only several thousand kisses that’s it!” he begs. You groan into the receiver, and Eddie retorts with a chuckle knowing that he’s wearing you down.

As convincing as Eddies offer was, and it was really convincing. You wanted to have a good time on your date, you needed to get all this work done to give Eddie your full attention, and not worry about school.

“I don’t trust you mister,” you joke.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either, but you should still come over anyways,” he retorts.

You laugh at his goofy nature, and that alone almost makes you say yes.

“How bout this princess, I’ll come over there. I’ll sit and read a book or something, and be a good boy while you do your work,” he suggests.

You ponder this over in your head for a minute but who are you kidding, how could you possibly say no to him? Plus, you really only have to revise two papers, shouldn’t take too long.

“Alright alright you win, come on over stinky,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Be over soon pretty girl,” he says slyly.

How could you ever say no to Eddie fucking Munson.

You appreciate that Eddie didn’t make it too hard for you to concentrate when he finally showed up at your apartment. He did as he said he would, sitting next to you on your bed, one had rubbing circles on your back and the other holding a book that he was trying to finish.

His touch soothing you, as you rub stress out of your own temples. When you could, sneaking glances at the very beautiful man sitting right next to you. He was dressed down today, hair in a low bun, in a pair of sweatpants and an old Iron Maiden T shirt. He could wear a brown paper bag and he’d still be one of the sexiest men you’ve ever seen. It made the time between today and the date that much more excruciating, Eddie had been very adamant that there would be no funny business prior to the date, which is honestly a surprising amount of self-control for him. It showed he meant business, which you respected. But it was also driving you to the brink of insanity, cursing into the abyss that the universe would give you the prettiest man in the world and not be able to jump his bones. It was a cruel world indeed.

Your insatiable urges aside you could get used to this. Him being here, even if you weren’t talking, his presence soothed and ache inside of you. You also loved that Eddie loves books almost as much as you did, you wouldn’t think by just looking at him. But he had his nose in a book quite often, whether that’s a new DnD manual, researching for a new campaign, or just reading random sci-fi books.

And that’s when it hits you, you know where the two of you are going to go for your date. You look up from your computer screen and look at Eddie. His brows lightly scrunched together, probably reading a thrilling part in his book. He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer gorgeous. I’m trying to be good here and you’re distracting me,” he taunts, as he flips a page in his book very dramatically.

You roll your eyes at him, if he wasn’t so cute, he’d be the biggest pain in your ass.

“Alright then I guess you just won’t get to know where we go on our date then, fine by me!” you hint.

Then you’re jumped by a mass of dark brown curls and you’re tackled onto the bed.

“Tell me tell me tell me!!!!” he says in between kisses to your cheeks and neck. Giggling uncontrollably, you concede.

“Fine fine, you win! Me and you. Saturday. Coffee shop and bookstore. 12 pm don’t be late Munson.” You reveal with a light kiss to Eddies bottom lip.

Expecting Eddie to continue his shenanigans, his eyes soften a little and he dips down to give you a firm kiss on your lips.

“You’re perfect, ya know that?” he says sincerely.

You roll your eyes at him. He holds your chin in place, the way that makes your breath hitch.

“Nuh uh, don’t be mean to my girl,” he coos.

You blush and kiss him back with the same ferocity, your homework can wait. You spend the rest of the night snuggled up against Eddie while he read his book to you in between the thousands of kisses he promised.

The day the date actually came around you were a fucking mess, you woke up super early, trying to figure out the right outfit to wear. Not that you thought it would matter to Eddie all that much, but it mattered to you. You were something of a perfectionist and you wanted this date to go well.

You decide on a comfy green sweater, a pair of leggings, and black platform combat boots, and your winter jacket. It was getting colder outside, and you were not used to the Indiana winters, you swear you had never seen so much snow in your life.

You were just doing your finishing touches in the mirror when you heard a knock on the door. You can’t contain the smile that spreads across your face as you basically leap to the door in excitement. You swing the door open, and you are face to face with a excited smile that matched yours.

“Hi princess,” he greets you, giving you a light kiss on your lips.

“Hey Eddie,” you smile up at him, even in your platform boots, this man was so much taller than you. It made your heart flutter and your body tingle.

“Ready to go?” he says seductively leaving a more passionate kiss onto your lips, making your legs buckle slightly. The kiss makes you want to abandon the date all together and take him right here on your couch. The week since your first kiss had been grueling, and you wanted more than kisses.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you beam up at him leaving a kiss on his jaw. He moans and you know he’s thinking the same thing as you.

In his car the energy is electrified and nervous, Eddies knee bouncing wildly in the driver’s seat while you fiddle with your hands. Hanging out at his house or your apartment was one thing but going out in public together. On a date, completely different. You just try to remind yourself that it’s still Eddie, the same goof that he was the day before and the day before that.

You go to the local coffee shop in town, he grabs a black coffee which you make fun of him for, making the tension between the two of you, ease. And you get a chai tea, which Eddie makes fun of you for.

“You know that chai is tea in Hindi right? So, you basically just ordered “tea tea”? he snickers.

“Yeah well at least I didn’t order a steaming hot cup of bitter water old man,” you retort as you grab your drinks from the barista.

You hand him his coffee and he pulls you in to leave a kiss on your forehead. The people in front of you look at you inquisitively, and that’s when you realize that the two of you probably look a little odd. A 45ish year-old man and a 25 year-old woman together. Age was never a thing that either of you ever thought too much about in all honesty. Besides the “old man” jabs that you gave him occasionally. Regardless of the age difference between the two of you, you had so much in common that it never seemed that noticeable. You give the couple in front of you a glare and head out the door with Eddie hand in hand.

Any bookstore is the best place on earth, any book you could ever dream of stocked on the shelves, endless possibilities. Plus, the new book smell, is just addicting. Eddie watched in amusement as you picked up every other book reading the backs of them, completely immersed in your own little world. Following along behind you holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist, reading the backs of books that look interesting to him. That is until you get to the DnD section, and he becomes the biggest nerd you ever met and it makes you swoon even harder if possible.

After almost looking at every section in the store, the two of you stand in front of the romance section. You had decided before the date that you were going to steer clear from this section to avoid any teasing from Eddie because you basically read porn. Not just porn, porn that would make a grown man clutch his pearls.

But the spicy section had been updated since you had been there last, and you remembered that one of your favorite authors had dropped a new book. You gasp lightly and Eddie looks at you inquisitively.

You walk briskly over to the section of steamy books, searching for the book you were looking for.

“I didn’t really peg you as a girl who likes romance books, I’m intrigued,” he taunts lightly.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Munson” you say, still looking for the right book. Instead, you find another smutty book that you’ve been meaning to read, one about an older guy owning a BDSM club that a bunch of your online friends were gushing about. You pull that off the shelf and accept the fact that you’re going to have to ask an employee for help to find the book you were looking for.

“Do you mind holding this for me for a sec? I just need to ask an employee for help,” you ask.

Eddie’s eyebrow is upturned in curiosity but takes the book from your hands as you go off to look for an employee. The book was in the “New Releases” section and that’s why you couldn’t find it.

When you finally make your way back to Eddie you look at him in horror, he has the book you asked him to hold for you, open to the middle of the book, smirking like a devil in disguise. He looks up at you before you can defend yourself.

“Princess, you like this stuff? Seems a little intense for a pretty little thing like you,” he says tauntingly under his breath so none of the other patrons can hear you.

You let out an anxious squeal and try to grab the book from Eddies hands, but he’s too quick. He dangles the book easily over your head still reading from the pages.

Your heart is beating so fast threatening to drop into your stomach. What if he thought you were weird and didn’t want to be with you anymore? What if you fucked all of this up before you even started?

“Give it back Eddie I mean it,” you whine, still trying to reach the book in his hand.

“Then tell me you like this kind of stuff, and ill give you the book back right now,” he says still holding the book out of your reach. He leans in really close, his eyes dark with lust. Caging you in against a bookshelf and puts his lips up to your ear.

“Tell me, you get off on reading this stuff, tell me you read this late at night right before bed with your hand down your pants and the book is all yours,” he whispers before backing away to a normal distance, leaving the rest of the customers none the wiser.

You shiver when his breath touches your ear, you have to bite your lip as to not whine out in the middle of the bookstore. If you were needy before the date, nothing compared to how you felt right now. You were an omega about to go into heat, and the only thing that was going to put out the fire brewing in you was Eddie. Your legs threatening to give out below you, you take a deep breath to steady yourself before responding. Eddie patiently awaiting your response, taunting you with his one hand cupped behind his ear.

“I do,” you say meekly.

He gets closer to you, flaunting his size against your frame.

“You do what pretty girl, come on use your words” he coos, caressing you cheek with his thumb.

This time you let a whimper escape and a smile the size of Texas spread across Eddies face. You clear your throat and wet your lips.

“I touch myself when I read them,” you whisper loud enough for only Eddie to hear.

“Good girl baby,” he praises you, rewarding you with a kiss on your cheek.

He grabs the other book from your hands, leading the two of you to the checkout line. You felt like you were floating, you had never been this turned on in your life and Eddie barely touched you.

Then there was the dilemma, that Eddie refused to let you pay for your own books despite your countless protests. You pouted lightly next to him while he paid for your two book and one for himself.

“Don’t worry babycakes, I’ll pay for your porn” he teased with a wink as the two of you walked out of the store. He helped you into his truck, grabbing your waist tightly, making you gasp.

The car ride back to Eddie’s house was intense, both of you feeling the consequences of the little stunt Eddie pulled in the bookstore. Your chest heaving up and down heavily, Eddie holding on to your thigh with one of his hands.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks seriously, once the two of you get inside, he helps you shrug off your winter jacket hanging it up for you.

You nod quickly with no hesitation, only admiration in your eyes. You needed this man more than you needed air; did he really expect you to say no? And with final confirmation Eddie takes your hand and leads you up to his bedroom. Your eyes fixating slightly on Violet’s room before forcing her out of your head and focusing on the man in front of you.

He ushers you in, immediately tackling you into a heated kiss, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of his bed until you feel it with the backs of your knees. You inch yourself farther into the middle of his bed pulling him closer, looking up at him through your eyelashes, Eddies eyes are dark looking at you like he’s the hunter and you are his prey. Eddie follows suit incasing your body with his, enveloping your lips again.

But with more urgency, like the first time you kissed in the kitchen. You open yourself up guiding his body between your legs. He thanks you by grinding his bulge against your sweet spot making you gasp. Eddie takes that as an open invitation to slide his tongue into your mouth. Your lips clash together feverously, a mix of lips, tongue, and teeth. You pull back taking his bottom lip in between your teeth. Biting hard enough to elicit a hiss from his mouth.

“Fuckkk,” he groans loudly.

Changing pace, he dips down and starts sucking on your pulse point, sending shivers down your body. Your hips moving on their own rolling into his, the friction making you both moan. You could feel him leaving little bruises all over your neck, your mind too empty to care, having only one thing on your mind now. Him.

You become very aware that Eddie was wearing entirely too much clothing, tugging at the bottom of his shirt, he takes the hint and lifts up to exposed to pale ink decorated skin under his T-shirt. You were in awe of him, grabbing and kissing anywhere and everywhere, wanting to taste every single part of him. His arms were almost completely covered in ink, and most of his chest was covered too. You made a mental note to spend an entire day kissing every single tattoo on his body, but that day was not today.

Eddie wanting the same from you, he starts to pull up the bottom of your shirt, looking into your eyes for the okay. Seeing no protest, he takes it the rest of the way off. If his eyes could bulge out of his head, they probably would have with how wide his eyes got.

“Jesus Christ” he groans as he re-attaches his lips to yours, only to pull apart slowly making his way down your chest, leaving bruising kisses along your collar bone and the swell of your breasts that were peaking out from your bra. Getting impatient he peels the cups of your bra down to expose your nipples to him and incasing one in his mouth. Swirling the bud with his tongue, groaning into your chest. Each pinch and lick sending shock waves through your body.

Eddie stops what he’s doing and looks up at you, “Show me baby,” Eddie says while leaving little kisses down your stomach. You look at him slightly confused, unsure what he means. A small smirk falls on his lips as he uses his hands to reach up and take your left breast in his hand. Your nipple brushing up against his fingers. Enticing a hissing noise from you.

“Show me how you touch yourself when you’re reading your books, show me how you like it.” he says leaving more kisses on your breasts as his fingers continue to play with your nipple.

Getting impatient, Eddie grabs the hem of your leggings and panties, pulling them up and off your body. Pushing your knees apart exposing your dripping center to him, guiding your hand to your slit.

Then his touch is gone, you look to see his figure rummaging next to the bed in the bag from the bookstore. He pulls out the book he was reading and taunting you with. Flipping open to a page that seemed to peak the older man’s interest, pushing it into your hand.

It was your turn to become speechless, looking down at the words on the page he picked out for you. Your cheeks turn a bright shade of pink. His eyes dark but still warm and encouraging, still your Eddie. You bite your lip and nod back at him.

You look back to the words on the page, moving your hand slowly up and down your slit. Gathering the wetness from your center and swirling it around your aching bud. You see Eddie in the corner of your eye, palming himself through his pants, watching intently where your hand and legs meet.

Breathy moans spilling from your mouth while you touch yourself, your mind clouding in pleasure. If you weren’t so turned on, the wet sounds that echoed around the room would have embarrassed you.

“So fuckin naughty, you look so good touching your pretty little cunt like that,” he says breathily, pupils blown.

His words only edging you on, you moan loudly as you sink a finger inside your entrance, making your back lift off the bed in ecstasy, book completely discarded. You feel Eddie remove your hand from your core, you whine in protest. Enveloping you hand in his mouth, lapping at your juices, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Spit,” he commands, holding his hand out in front of your mouth. You gather the saliva in your mouth and spit it into his hand.

“Good girl” he praises, rubbing your spit onto your slit, making you gasp loudly. His fingers quickly replaced by his wanting tongue, teasing your entrance, and nudging his perfect nose against your clit.

“OH FUCK EDDIE!” you cry out.

Your words encouraging him to buckle down, swirling and flicking his tongue on your clit making you see stars. You buck your hips up to meet his tongue, chasing your release.

“Shit, you taste so good baby, could drown in this fucking pussy,” he babbles, re-attaching his lips to your bundle of nerves.

You can feel yourself getting close already, your entrance pulsing in anticipation. You grab a fist full of his curls in desperation. Eliciting a deep groan from him that vibrates through you.

“S-so good, so fucking good Eds, holy shit” you say with another roll of your hips. Then without warning Eddie sticks one of his fingers inside of you, finding a spot inside that you could never reach yourself.

“Fuck Eddie I-im gonna” you breathe.

“Come on sweet thing, cum for me” he purrs into your core. Keeping his pace with his tongue on your clit, adding another finger inside you. The feeling of fullness finally sending you over the edge.

You throw your head back in a silent scream, the coil inside you finally snapping sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Eddie leaving sloppy kisses on your inner thighs brings you back into your body.

“Still with me princess? You did so good f’me,” he murmurs into your skin.

You look at him hazily, he looked so pretty between your thighs. His strong arms incasing each thigh, his lips and chin glistening with your release. You reach for him, wanting to feel his lips on yours once again. He obliges you, tasting the remnants of your release on his slips, sighing against his mouth contently.

You roll him over so he’s on his back, leaving kisses against his stomach down to his clothed cock, making him buck up into you. You strip him quickly from his pants and boxers, impatient, you want to make him feel as good as he made you.

His cock is bigger than you expected, not too thick but long, a little patch of curly dark brown hair at the base. You situate yourself between his legs and look up at him through your eyes.

Eddie was trying to be patient, but you could see the desperation in his eyes. You start swirling your tongue around the tip, collecting his precum in your mouth. You groan deeply at the slightly salty taste, encasing the rest of your mouth around the tip. You hear Eddie curse under his breath, his hands cup the hair falling around your face so he can see you better.

You take this opportunity to lock eyes with him, gathering all the saliva in your mouth and spitting sloppily onto his cock, working it from the tip to the shaft.

“Jesus, fuck! Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he babbled. His words making you clench around nothing, Eddie was more vocal than any other partner you’d ever been with but you liked knowing that you were making him feel good.

You go back to working your mouth down on his cock, forcing it lower and lower until the hairs at the base of his shaft were tickling your nose and lips. You gag slightly around his cock, throat constricting around the tip, making him thrust farther down your throat.

“Shit, fuck I’m sorry baby, you just look so fucking good with your mouth full of my cock, couldn’t help myself,” he sputters. You hum as you remove his cock from your mouth leaving opened mouth kisses all the way down the shaft and onto his balls. You hear his breath hitch when you reach his balls. You spend time down there licking and sucking.

Taking your time lightly sucking each ball into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them. Truth be told you loved sucking and licking balls and you could tell Eddie did too by his reaction.

“Fuck, Fuck yes, you like that? You like sucking my balls? Good fucking girl, such a good fucking girl, shit” he cries out, tightening the grip he has on your hair. The new hold he had on your hair leaving a delightful sting on your scalp and that made your eyes roll back. You pull of his shaft with a pop , sloppily licking up and down his member.

“Fuck my face Eddie, please, fill my throat” you plead with your mouth still full of his length

“Don’t have to fuckin ask me twice sweetheart,” he says grabbing another fist full of your hair. You give up control and let him lower your head back down on his cock. His pace starts out slow at first seeing what you can handle. You can take most of his cock, and the rest that you can take you use your hand to stroke it, making sure every part of him feels good. He continues to shower you with praises, all of it becoming to much, you start to feel your own wetness start to drip down your thighs.

You can feel his cock twitching in your mouth has his pace picks up, slamming his cock in your mouth with reckless abandon. Making you gag every time his tip hit the back of your throat, Eddie swearing obscenities left and right.

His pace getting sloppy as he comes closer to cumming, and with one final thrust into your mouth he releases his load down your throat. You both moan in unison at the act. Smooshing your face down into the curls at the base for good measure before pushing off to straddle his waist.

Opening up your mouth to show him his cum gathered inside your mouth, Eddies eyes rolling back farther than you thought humanly possible. Looking back at you with hungry eyes, he holds your face with his one hand, cupping your cheeks. And with his other hand dipping two of his fingers into your mouth, fucking his cum farther down your throat.

“Swallow for me pretty girl,” he commands, your body tingling to obey his every thought, his eyes watching you like a hawk.

You swallow the rest of his cum left on your tongue, and stick your tongue out to show him the job done.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he praises again, kissing you fiercely on the lips. Then you collapse onto the bed next him contently.

He grabs hold of your waist forcing you to cuddle close, he leaves kisses in your hair and your run circles across his chest with your fingers. Your mind completely empty of everything that wasn’t Eddie Munson.

That was until your phone went off, buzzing next to the bed. You ignore it, deciding that whatever it was, could wait. That was until it buzzed again, and again, and again. Finally you climb over Eddie and reach for your phone, seeing a couple missed calls from Violet.

You call her back without even thinking, there’s no way she could know that you were naked in her dads bed, no way.

“Hey Vi, you okay?” you say sleepily, worn out from your previous activities.

“They’re cheating me, they’re fucking cheating on me, I can’t fucking believe it!” Violet wails into the phone.

“Woah woah, slow down and start from the beginning babe what’s going on?” you say, concern in your voice. Eddie now sitting up wanting to know what was happening.

Violet goes onto explain that her and Quinn have each other’s phone passwords, and that she went to go look up something on his phone, and they had changed their phone password and had a text message from an unsaved number on their phone.

“Fuck,” you mutter into the phone.

“I need you to come over, I need you right now, i'm on my way back from Quinn's house now,” she pleads with you.

“I’ll be there as soon I can babe, don’t worry we will figure this out” you reassure her, feeling guilty for lying to her again.

You hang up the phone and look at Eddie, you fill him in on whats going on. Eddie wanting to go over to Quinn's house right now and give them a piece of his mind, but you talk him out of it until you know exactly what’s going on.

“Sorry we gotta cut this short,” you chuckle, leaning back into Eddies exposed chest.

“S’alright, I’d rather know that Vi’s okay. You’re a good friend Y/N, Vi and I are so lucky to have you." You blush at his words, he leans down and leaves kisses along your hair line and neck.

The two of you dress, you cover up your very obvious hickeys from Eddie, and part your separate ways. Just in time for the two of you to share one final kiss in the living room before the door opens.

Tag List! **If you want to be added to the tag list just lemme know, just need to be 18+**

@chaoticmunsons @sweetblinginrose @tlclick73 @paleidiot @frogtape @too-efn-old-to-be-here @peaches-roses-sins @micheledawn1975 @untitled74745 @hellv1ra

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steddie x reader #steddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader x eddie munson #older! steve harrington #older steve harrington #older eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #older!eddie munson

54 notes · View notes

sleepyangelkami · 3 days

Note

hiii, I am writer 2 and I wanted to know how to get my colors like that, to fade and look different like yours

hello angel! I use this website (click the word 'this' it'll take you to it) you pick your colours, type out your words and click generate colour faded text. then you're gonna wanna go ahead and copy the long link in the box it generates. when you switch back to tumblr, create a post and click the little settings button. here, you can scroll down to text editor and change "rich text" to "HTML" and only then do you paste your long link. click back to rich text and everything should be perfect!! 🩷

#ellie williams x reader #lesbian #bisexual #straight #jason todd x reader #lgbtqia #dick grayson x reader #carl grimes x reader #daryl dixon x reader #vi arcane x reader #spencer reid x reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #text format #writers #poet #young writers #faded colour tutorial #faded colour text

49 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 2 days

Text

thank you so much for requesting anon, and thanks for your patience in waiting for this. Hope you like where I took it 😅 Is it a hushed conversation between kisses? Idk. Do they kiss? Kind of. Do they need to be quiet? yes?

1164 words

warnings: SMUT (finger sucking| PIV intercourse - creampie | technically you're camping & have to be quiet for this reason, but it's not really explicitly stated)

steve harrington x fem!reader | NSFW 18+

Despite the hot breath at your temple dotted with sweat, goosebumps rose on your skin. It seemed only Steve Harrington could pull them from you, the sort of primal reactions and sounds your body couldn’t deny.

He had a knack for it - a useless talent to some, an addiction if you asked him, a weapon he absolutely knew how to wield in your opinion.

Maybe it’s the way his hand curled on your hip. The way the rough pads of his fingertips soothed against heated skin. How they skated over elastic and snapped it against your body, accompanied by his mouth opening against the hinge of your jaw he’d traveled down to.

Not kissing you. Not licking or sucking. Just opening his mouth and breathing.

You hated that you whined.

Steve smiled against your neck, he couldn’t help it. And if he wasn’t painfully hard against your ass, he’d do this all night long.

He let his nose drag lower, then back up, indulging in the scent of you - mixed with the lake and bonfire, something sweet and smoky - addicting, like a freaking smore. Like he could have twenty of you and never be full or sick from such a sweet treat. He paused just behind your ear as his fingers slipped over the wet cotton in front of you and he felt your body go rigid against him, like you were holding your breath.

Everything was louder - your heartbeat in your ears, the crickets, the faint crackle of the dying fire now popping and hissing loudly as you waited. Your bare legs slipped against the cool sleeping bag, fingers digging into the flannel pillowcase as your teeth did the same to your bottom lip.

When Steve finally brushed a finger over cotton, giving the part of you throbbing and aching for attention, you gasped, hips wiggled quickly, searching for more, and he pulled away as soon as they did.

You groaned, loudly, and his hand was quick to jump over your mouth, which only had your eyes rolling back.

“Honey,” he spoke directly into your ear and his cheek pulled between his teeth when he saw how the press of his lips there had your eyelashes fluttering. “If you can’t be quiet…” He started to pull his body away, and your hands caught his wrist, keeping him locked around you.

Steve swallowed, watching from over your shoulder how your chest heaved, glistening with sweat. Your shirt and little sleep shorts guilty of this whole scenario he finds himself in, discarded and crumpled in the corner of the tent. He could have removed those from you an hour ago, his brain’s a little fuzzy - senses in overdrive wanting to get every sigh and whimper and twitch of your body he could get out.

“Please,” you begged in a hoarse whisper, turning your head as his hand fell from your lips, but not straying to far, fingers curled around your chin, thumb soothing over your jaw. Your nose drags over his before lips pressed a wet and desperate kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be good, please.”

You watched him under heavy lids, taking in the pink flush of his cheeks, blown out pupils quickly replacing the honey in his eyes, so you took his hand and pressed two fingers to your lips, and waited.

Steve’s throat bobbed as your tongue licked the pad of one, running up the seam of the digits pressed together until you were taking both tips into your mouth and sucking.

He wasn’t the only one who had a weapon to wield, who had an addiction to getting those same primal reactions out of him.

Your cheeks hollowed, his eyelids grew heavy, fluttering as his cock twitched against you and a rumble of something in his chest pressed into your spine.

“Fuck,” he gasped, forehead knocking your temple as he rolled his hips against you.

He quickly pulled his fingers from where they were flattened over your tongue, wet fingers pushed down your black underwear and then his own. Steve’s length slipped between your legs, before his arm was wrapping around your waist and pulling you tight to him as his tip glided through your slick.

“So wet, baby,” he whined into your ear, fingers digging into your abdomen as you shivered when he pressed at your entrance. “Jus’ for me? Jus-just waiting for this all night?”

You nodded, warmth flooding your body at his words, the truth of them, and the way he pushed slowly inside of you.

Fingers gripped his forearm that only tightened around you, before his hand roamed down, over your thigh and back up to your hip, pulling you open so he could slip in deeper.

Steve made a sort of strangled noise against the back of your neck, pressed fully against your ass as your head fell back in a gasp, resting on his shoulder. He sat still, twitching inside of you until you were throbbing around him, fingers digging into the cool material beneath you and nodding, silently telling him to move.

It was all slow drags out and a forceful thrusts back in, each one picking up speed, making you both try to hold in your ragged and loud breaths. Steve pressed his nails into your thigh, nose and lips a ghost along your shoulder. Your walls sucking him in, yet coating him in slick in a way you hadn’t before had him quietly cursing, swearing and praising you in the same breath.

He scratched up your thigh when your hips rolled back against him, lips finding his neck and pressing kisses to any skin you could reach. His fingertips slipped over your clit, quietly swearing again at how wet you were and how you moaned when he made a second figure eight over the bundle of nerves.

“Steve,” you spoke into his jaw, fingers curled in the hair at the back of his neck, the other tugging at anything in front of you to hold on to as he pounded into you harder, but at the same consistent rhythm. As his tip hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, the place only Steve Harrington had a knack for finding or being able to reach, white heat poured over you, heartbeat rushing in your ears as he took you higher.

He could feel you squeezing around him, feel the way your body shook against his, his own orgasm held off until you opened your mouth just below his ear.

You didn’t kiss him. You didn’t lick or suck or bite. You were just breathing.

A harder tug of his hair in your fingers, an arch of your back, eyelids fluttering, and a sort of hitched breath that warmed across his skin all made him fall over the edge he’d taken you both to. As goosebumps erupted down his arms, he spilled inside of you, both of you gripping the others body like it was your only way out alive.

He hated that he whined.

You smiled against his neck, you couldn’t help it.

#superbly subpar steve smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfiction

307 notes · View notes

cherubkeery · 15 hours

Text

An annoyance is present on his face, one that you can’t help giggle at. Dustin is sitting on your lap, smiling up at you.

“Come on, Steve. He said one movie.” You say, looking up at your boyfriend with a pout.

“Yeah, not happening. One movie turns into four and the next thing you know. My time with you was spend with Dustin shoving popcorn and chocolate down his throat so fast. We’d have to take him to the er cause the kernel got stuck in his-.”

Dustin and you glance at each other, causing Steve to stop talking.

“What?” He says.

“You have a whole scenario already planned out?” Dustin questions.

“Yes? It’s you.” Steve says, his brows furrowed. “Besides the point, no is no.”

Dustin whines as he dramatically falls to the floor.

“But Stev-aa—

“No! Dustin, no!”

You whisper something into Steve’s ear, causing his eyes to grow wide. Dustin watched in confusion.

“One- one! Movie! That’s all!”

Dustin brows furrowed but he didn’t question it. One movie became four.

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington blurb

31 notes · View notes

mrwinterr · 20 hours

Text

The Nerve

Pairing(s): former!Steve Harrington x Female Reader; eventual!Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: The nerves of some people.

Warnings: Cliché af. Toxic behavior. When they go low, I go lower. Revenge. Not a girls’ girl here bc once you fuck around w/ another girl’s man it’s “yes, and?” from there. Implied smut. Language. We’re probably not gonna like Steve (or even the reader for a bit) here.

Disclaimer: Typical !former and !eventual pairing. Some time hopping. None of the spooky events of the Stranger Things (2016) series take place in this piece. Everything is just where it’s at because this is made up.

Pre A/N: This is embarrassing. I was in my villain era. I was certainly in the business of misery. I was angry (still am sometimes), so I wrote this. We all cope differently.

The nerve.

She had the nerve to steal your boyfriend.

It had been a few weeks since Steve broke up with you, only to start dating a girl you had harbored no ill will toward until that night. He even had the guts to reveal who she was and how long he had been losing interest in you. You weren’t going to lie, it hurt – a lot. Discovering his real need for “space” during the last two months of your relationship was painful to realize because in that time, while you were being understanding, he was finding a way to end things with you.

Looking back, you couldn’t help but dissect the memory. It was an ordinary day. School was let out for the weekend, and you were spending it with Steve, a cozy night in without interruptions since he was often left alone at home. The two of you lay on the couch, cuddled up, bodies parallel, his arms around you, the room dimly lit by the TV screen.

“I have something I wanna talk to you about…and it’s been on my mind for a while,” Steve says, loosening his grip and pausing the movie that was mindlessly playing midway.

“Okay,” you reply, pushing yourself up from the couch to make space for him to sit up. He shifted, swinging his legs over to plant his feet on the carpeted floor, settling into a seated position and scooting aside to allow you room to sit back down next to him.

The atmosphere shifted noticeably, and it made you nervous. The way he ran his hands through his hair and avoided meeting your gaze – it all felt ominous, and you couldn’t prepare yourself for what he was about to say.

“I met someone,” he revealed.

It wasn’t the news you expected, and you could feel your heart sink into your stomach as you absorbed his words.

“Oh,” is all you manage to say, now turning your gaze to the ground too, unable to look at him.

A whirlwind of emotions swept through you – hurt, anger, brokenness, betrayal. The signs had been there. Why hadn’t you seen them? He had been growing distant – more withdrawn, fewer “good mornings” and “good nights”, less calls, more canceled dates. You had been looking forward to tonight, thinking he was just preoccupied with work or his upcoming graduation, believing whatever he needed space for was resolved. Turns out, he needed space from you.

You had so many questions, even though you weren’t sure why you needed the answers. In that moment, you wanted to know what you had done to make him lose interest in you. You had thought the relationship was salvageable.

What? He was breaking up with you.

When? He’d been feeling like this for almost two months.

Where? At work.

Who? The other girl he worked with, also attends Hawkins High, but she's a year above you, therefore had more classes and events with him.

How? It just happened.

Yeah, that last one was a classic, but not as much as him telling you that you did nothing wrong and that you both could stay friends. Bullshit. With Steve, would come her, and you couldn’t believe the nerve of her to pursue another girl’s boyfriend. You’d seen her while visiting Steve at his job, but you hadn’t felt threatened by her. The hurting phase was brutal, but now all you could feel for her was anger – after all, who didn’t know that you were dating Steve Harrington?

She had the nerve to act all innocent.

The school hallways were not pleasant for you. A few days after the break up, rumors circulated that Steve left you for someone else, though apparently their relationship hadn’t been made public yet, sparking widespread gossip.

How would you have known that though? His business wasn’t yours anymore. In fact, you’d made a deliberate effort to distance yourself from them because the breakup was still fresh. Fuck trying to be friends. This time you were the one that needed the space. The last thing you wanted was to think about them together.

Steve had the audacity to point the finger at you because you were supposedly the only one aware of the relationship. Even when you tried to explain, he left you hanging. The disbelief on his face hurt to witness. He didn’t believe you.

“How do they know about us?” Steve demanded as he approached you at your locker, hands on his hips in typical, upset Steve fashion. No hey, hi or hello. He just went right in.

“I don’t know,” you scoffed, continuing to unload your textbooks from your backpack.

“Well, you’re the only one who knows,” he persisted, leaning in closer, determined to get an answer. “And your name is going around.”

“Look, Steve,” you finally turned to face him, your tone sharp, catching him off guard. “Your new relationship isn’t my concern.” This is a side of you Steve isn’t used to. “Why would I go around telling everyone that you left me for her? In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever given you a reason to think I’d do something like this?”

You could see him reconsidering his accusation. The questions seemed to stump him, as if he knew the rumors were absurd and gossip wasn’t something you partook in.

“Why don’t you go talk to your girlfriend and figure it out?” you suggested, turning back to your locker, not in the mood to continue the conversation.

All Steve did was stare at you before shaking his head then going into a tangent of how some of the rumors were negatively affecting her when they weren’t true and how she shouldn’t have to endure them or receive any of its backlash…as if you did. But when he started saying something along the lines of how she wouldn’t do that because she told him she didn’t, you knew this was all a wasted effort on your end because he had already made up his mind. He believed her.

Did he truly think you cared that much about them? Did he really think you'd stoop so low as to announce his new relationship? Did he ever really know you?

She had the nerve to lie.

Steve apologized to you when he discovered it was actually his new girlfriend that spread the news. He recognized his rash behavior and conceded that he should’ve believed you. Why would you waste energy on them? They weren’t worth your time anymore.

“Hey,” a voice calls from behind, and you turn to see Steve standing there, looking contrite. Unlike before, you receive a greeting.

“Hey,” you reply, briefly acknowledging him before returning to organizing your locker, now cluttered by your chaotic friend’s belongings - stashing the shit that no one would suspect the good girl to possess. It didn’t bother you much, except for the occasional stench it left behind.

“You were right,” Steve admits, hands in his front pockets and moving to the side to look at you. Pausing your task, you wait for him to continue. “She was the one going around telling everyone that I left you…for her.” Boy, that was awkward and lowkey stung. It hadn’t even been that long and he didn’t fail to remind you how you all got here.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” he continues, visibly ashamed, “I should’ve known better than to believe that.” His apology didn’t really move you. The damage had already been done. You were branded as the ‘psycho ex’ and all Steve had to do was trust you from the start.

She had the nerve to act like a girls’ girl.

She never directly apologized, but she had the nerve to claim that she harbored “no hard feelings” toward you. Hard feelings? Why? Because you’re the ex? Was she fucking stupid? How did she expect the girl whose boyfriend she stole to feel? Everything that came out of her mouth infuriated you.

It was no ordinary day – it was your birthday, and your friend had organized a night out to celebrate. You never liked to make a spectacle of your birthday, but it was also a good reason to go out, distract yourself, and avoid dwelling on unwanted thoughts.

“You’re lying,” your friend responds, baffled by what you just told him, “she really said that?”

“She fucking did!” you exclaim, still grappling with her impeccable timing. She wouldn’t know it was your birthday or would she care.

“Jesus. Of all the days…” he says with a low whistle before attempting to lift your spirits, “But, hey, we’re not gonna let her ruin your birthday!”

“I know, and I won’t!” Your voice wavers as you try to convince yourself this wouldn’t affect you. You were determined to not cry today, but the truth was, it still hurts. Her little stunt reopened a wound that was almost healed.

“He’s such a fool,” he remarks, followed by a brief silence. You were preoccupied with regaining your composure, fighting back tears, unable to respond. “He didn’t know what he already had in front of him. Lucky son of a bitch,” he added, and you’re not sure if he was speaking to himself or he meant to say that outloud, but you heard him nonetheless.

“Stop,�� you reply, turning your away from him. You’re not gonna cry. “I know what you’re trying to do, Eddie.”

“What am I trying to do?” He asks adjusting to move to your line of vision, but you keep your focus averted.

“Hype me up, make me feel better…I don't know,” you answer, finally meeting his gaze, the tears now freely falling.

He understood how hard you were on yourself, replaying what could’ve been avoided. Your relationship with Steve wasn’t something you anticipated. Steve pursued you, and initially, you were fine with a casual fling, but he insisted on something more serious. You had doubts about whether he was the right person, but what if he was? It’s a reminder that life isn’t planned; it’s lived.

Eddie’s support during your breakup was invaluable. He watched you cry a lot – at home, at his trailer, at school, at work. He watched you criticize yourself for the breakup. He watched the light go out and he was determined to reignite it. He simply wanted his friend back.

“Sweetheart, I promise you,” he assures, hand over his heart, “everything I’ve said is sincere,” accompanied by that charming, stupid trademark Eddie grin. He was so endearing.

“Well,” you begin, but he’s got you. He had a knack for flipping the script, leaving you wondering why you were arguing in the first place.

Despite your curiosity about what attracted Steve to someone else and away from you, you had to accept that you probably wouldn’t ever know.

If there was one thing you knew about Steve, it was that when he falls, he falls fast. With that realization, it sparked a wicked plan in your mind. If you could bag him once, you could probably do it again.

The nerve.

You had the nerve to lie.

The only person you had confided in about your breakup with Steve was Eddie, and you had the right to do so. You needed a friend. You also knew he had no interest in high school gossip, so it couldn’t have been him that told the whole school. You trusted him.

People liked to talk and they didn’t hold back. Although the lies bothered you, you had a strong support system in Eddie and his friends. If any group could shrug off that nonsense, it was the Hellfire Club.

“Are you sure you didn’t tell anyone?” Steve asked, continuing to badger you, even suggesting Eddie as the culprit. You knew Steve well enough that he couldn’t take gossip about him for this long. After all, he had a reputation to uphold, and not all of the rumors were in his favor.

“Eddie?” You asked, confused but also guilty because you had done just that.

“Yeah, I know how much time you’ve been spending with him lately.”

“Why is that any of your business?” You countered, a bit snappy.

“Because,” Steve began, grasping for an excuse, “people talk.”

“And you really think Eddie would? He doesn’t care about shit like this or you-”

“Please,” he interrupts with an eye roll, in the annoying way Steve always did.

“You don’t know him,” you defended your friend, “so get off your high horse and go talk to your girlfriend about your problem,” leaving him questioning everything again.

You had the nerve to act all innocent.

The birthday incident, as you tried your best to keep thoughts of Steve at bay, she unexpectedly approached you, alone, feigning sweetness and innocence. You listened as she spun her lies – lies about overhearing people gossip about her, Steve, and you; lies about rumors allegedly started by you; lies about having “no hard feelings” toward you. It was all fabrication.

Politely, you attempted to have her understand your side of the story, clarifying that you had not spread any rumors and had discussed the situation with Steve, as civil as that could’ve been, and ultimately, how she should address the matter directly with him. What were you now? A couples counselor? You didn’t have time for this or them.

You weren’t going to start lying to yourself now, but it angered you. All you saw was red. So, you gave it right back, feigning innocence yourself, doubling down on it, subtly planting a seed of doubt in her mind.

“Watch out for him,” you said sincerely, your warning devoid of malice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked genuinely curious. God she was fucking stupid. Did she think she would walk out of this situation without a scratch? She had just proven she was not a girl’s girl for actively pursuing your boyfriend while he was with you. The world is a jungle, and it was every woman for herself now.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, maintaining composure, “...just a girl looking out for another girl,” you added, offering her an innocent, warm smile.

“Okay,” she replied, sounding confused and a bit shaky. You could sense her discomfort, and she deserved to feel uneasy.

Ultimately, you weren’t lying. Yes, she should watch out for Steve – what made her think he wouldn’t treat her the same way he did to you? However, if you were in her shoes, you’d watch out for yourself.

You had the nerve to not act like a girl’s girl too.

The sudden breakup with Steve left some unresolved feelings, but he was now with her, not you, yet that didn’t stop the urge to act on them. Steve was weak and you realized that soon enough.

With your head turned to the side, you observed him, listening to his ragged breathing, how his lips parted, emitting small puffs of air, his chest rising and falling, the sweat that dripped from the top of his forehead, and eyes closed in post-bliss. Your gaze traces the freckles that speckled his skin as you studied his profile, wrestling with the questions swirling your mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked cautiously, breaking the silence. Why fight for him?

He didn’t respond immediately, but didn’t linger too long before replying, “Not really.”

“We’re gonna have to,” you said and it sounded almost pathetic. Why were you trying to hold onto him?

“I…I think we shouldn’t talk for a while,” and when he said that, you knew that actually meant this was done. He was done with you. Why did you want to change his mind?

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You knew it had to end eventually. There was no intention or hope of remaining friends.

That night, you went home feeling hurt, broken, angry, and disgusted. You knew what you did was wrong, a sad attempt on your part. He probably wanted that reaction from you. You were more than willing to feed his male ego. What guy didn’t enjoy the idea of two girls vying for him? If it was easy for her and it was easy for you, it would be easy for another. What made him so special?

You had the nerve to try to steal her boyfriend.

It was a toxic situation. You found yourself doing exactly what she had done to you. What did that accomplish? Bragging rights and a fleeting sense of revenge, perhaps, but it didn’t bring you and Steve back together. It only highlighted how destructive you both could be. You sought revenge at the expense of homewrecking a relationship. You were no better, yet in a twisted way, you didn’t care. You wanted them to feel the same pain you did, even though deep down, you knew Steve was capable of sabotaging his own relationships.

You told Eddie of the misdeed, feeling ashamed. He wasn’t upset with you. He understood that you would follow your own path no matter what. He didn’t have the right to control you. Both of you recognized that this would only lead to your own suffering. Unfortunately, you had to learn this lesson the hard way.

“I know you’re upset and that’s okay,” he tries to console you, “...your feelings are valid. But I don’t think you need to find the answers to everything. They’ll just lead to more and it’ll never end.”

He was right. The more you held onto what happened between you and Steve, the more questions arose. He was living rent free in your head.

“I just-” you struggled, trying hard to make sense of the situation, “I just wanna know. What did I do wrong? How did he get bored of me? When was I not enough?”

“Have you ever heard of the 80/20 rule?” he asked, and you shook your head. “It’s basically a theory that when someone cheats, they are drawn to the 20% in another person that is missing in their current partner.”

You’re not sure how much that helped you because it begged the question…”And I know what you’re thinking, so stop that!” Eddie’s quick to read you, “you’re lacking nothing, alright?”

“Everyone knows I’m not a big fan of Steve Harrington,” he said, scrunching up his face at the mention of his name, “...but he’ll regret this. His type always comes back…fucking roaches.” That last remark elicited a small cackle out of you.

He then took your hand in his. It’s a stark contrast to your own hand – larger, a bit rough, warm and slightly clammy – but it provided a sense of comfort. You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at your hands clasped together until he gives it a light squeeze and says, “He’ll realize he was much better off with the 80% he already had.”

Damn Eddie Munson. He was too good to you. It gave you a new perspective. Why were you being so hard on yourself? Why were you trying to convince yourself that the relationship’s downfall was your fault? It was Steve who started pulling away from you. It was Steve who did pull away from you. It was Steve who was actively pulling away from you. Everything that happened wasn’t solely on you.

These kinds of things happen to everyone every day. Feeling hurt, broken, angry, betrayed and ashamed were normal and acceptable emotions. You just have to learn to swallow your pride and accept this as part of life. You live and learn – not necessarily forgive or forget, but move on in your own way.

You were once happy without Steve, and you could be happy again. You gave up or changed a lot for Steve, losing sight of what made you happy. Now, you were committed to reclaiming your happiness. Fuck, when did you start crying?

“You alright, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice laced in concern, bringing his other hand up to wipe the stray tears running down your face.

“How do you do it?” you asked, looking down to compose yourself.

“Do what?” he responded, amused. You didn’t answer verbally, but twist your hand in his to thread your fingers between his. The small smile on your face conveyed your question, softening his features. It’s a rare emotion from Eddie, mixed with vulnerability accompanied with a newfound awareness.

He brings your now interlocked hands to his lips but not before saying, “...because I’m a big fan of you,” and kisses the back of your hand gently.

The nerve.

Steve had the nerve to lie.

Several months have passed with minimal communication from Steve. Occasionally seeing them together around school and town didn’t bother you anymore – well, not entirely. You can’t deny it still stirred up certain feelings, but you didn’t give it a second thought and eventually they weren’t a blimp on your radar. The past no longer consumed you, but unexpectedly, it started consuming Steve.

Evidently, he still knew your schedule and had been desperately trying to find a chance to talk to you – just the two of you, without Eddie, other friends, teachers, classmates, or family around. When he approached you, you were confused; unsure if he was still with her or anyone else. You intentionally tuned out gossip and never paid attention to their situation. Besides, you had a better reason to not care about Steve anymore. So, when he starts pouring out his feelings, you take it with a grain of salt, this time with a clearer mind.

“Hey,” Steve calls out as you step out of your front door, ready to head out with your ride nearby.

“Uh, hey, Steve,” you reply with uncertainty.

“Can we talk?” he asks hesitantly.

“Now might not be the best time,” you respond with unease.

“Please, just give me five minutes,” he begs, his eyes full of hope and pleading. What could there possibly be left to talk about? Despite your instincts telling you to stand firm, you reluctantly agree to hear him out, which you soon regret.

Steve begins with an apology and offers to explain his actions. What more was there for him to explain? You no longer desired an explanation. It was simple – he grew tired of you, became interested in another girl, and left you; perhaps grew tired of her too and now he’s back. You had moved on from your failed relationship with Steve months ago. However, he felt he “owed” you an explanation. Was this all a joke to him?

The more he spoke, the more you got lost in your thoughts trying to comprehend the reality that he was standing before you, admitting to his mistakes, and seeking a second chance. His voice started to fade into the background as you felt the weight of deciding how to respond, all while knowing your ride would arrive at any moment. When the pressure got too much, you finally managed to step up.

“Steve,” you interrupt, “I don’t know what you want me to say to you.”

“You don’t have to say anything right now. I just–” he’s cut off by the sound of loud, muffled music, causing both of you to turn your attention to the bulky van that just pulled up in front of your house.

You glanced at Steve sending him a tight lip smile before taking the short few steps to the curb, not looking back, knowing you were never going to get that "owed" explanation.

Steve had the nerve to try to act all innocent.

The atmosphere in Eddie’s van is tense the moment you climb into the passenger seat. Neither of you expected to see Steve today, let alone right before a date. And it happened. The lingering feelings had unearthed between you and Eddie and you welcomed it, a testament to your decision to move on from Steve. Right when things are looking up, life throws you a curveball in the form of your ex.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks cautiously, stealing a quick glance at you before focusing back on the road.

“Yeah,” you reply unconvincingly, then quickly retract, “no,” followed by a sigh, “I mean, I was…I am. I’m just annoyed at Steve right now. I swear I had no idea he was stopping by.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie assured, dismissively waving his hand to convey that it wasn’t a big deal to him, though his mind was racing with a million questions. When he saw Steve with you, he couldn’t help but wonder: Why was Steve there? What were you two talking about? What did Steve want? Had you been in contact with him and not mentioned it? Not that Eddie could control who you talked to, girlfriend or not.

“I can’t believe he had the nerve to say he ‘respects’ my feelings!” Your emotions spill out as you unload on Eddie, “After everything he did to me, does that look like someone who ‘respects’ my feelings?”

“It is a pretty shitty thing for him to do,” Eddie agrees, not just coming from the boyfriend perspective, but from any perspective.

Steve thought that by acknowledging your feelings upfront, it would ease his case. However, upon reflection, you realized it was more about saving face for the hurtful way he left you, attempting to depict himself in a more favorable light.

“Right?!” The audacity Steve had to arrive at your door, unannounced, just before your date with Eddie. God, Eddie. It was a brief but uncomfortable moment. Steve knew you were friends with Eddie, he never bothered to understand the depth of your relationship because he didn’t care enough to meet your other friends. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” you say, feeling remorseful.

“For what?” he chuckles softly because can’t believe what you're apologizing for.

“I didn’t expect to see Steve today,” you explain.

“That’s not on you,” he assures, “remember, I told you they always come back.”

“True,” you agree, “but that’s not what I want.”

“What do you want, then?” he asks.

“You,” you admit, “just you, Eddie,” reaching for his free hand to hold for assurance.

Yeah, Steve wasn’t going to fool you.

Steve had the nerve to try to steal you from your boyfriend.

During the initial months, Steve made attempts to regain your favor. You questioned repeatedly whether you could genuinely consider being just friends with him. That had been his original intention after breaking your heart, but he failed to uphold his end of the deal. Was it worth attempting to rebuild a friendship with him? Would it reflect poorly on your judgment if you did? Could you bear being around Steve in any capacity? If Eddie hadn’t arrived on time for your date that evening, you didn’t know how much more of Steve's admission you could take before you hit another breaking point.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you,” Steve begins, pausing, his mouth opening and closing as he carefully chooses his next words, “I miss you.” He observes your lack of response before continuing, “I miss us. We worked…and I really want to try and get to that again…to what we had.”

You can see it was difficult for him to admit this. Seeing your unphased reaction, he begins to ramble and talk out of his ass, “I mean, only if you want to. I can understand if you don’t. I do respect your feelings.”

You knew you didn’t have the mental or even emotional capacity to deal with Steve at that moment, and fortunately, the interaction didn’t progress any further. More importantly, it didn’t ruin your date with Eddie.

Steve’s graduation, once an event you looked forward to celebrating, was now a canceled event on your calendar. While you wished you could’ve joined in celebrating, Eddie had unfortunately not passed his exams again. Hopefully, on his third attempt, he will be able to graduate and walk the stage with you next year.

You had started working at a music store, which you enjoyed because it allowed you to be surrounded by something you loved – music. Eddie particularly appreciated the employee discount, a place to hang around during your shifts, though he seemed less excited about the store’s proximity to a certain video store.

It was inevitable that Steve would eventually walk in. Initially, your classmate and presumably Steve’s co-worker, now friend, Robin accompanied him. Over time, Steve started coming in alone, conveniently when Eddie wasn’t hanging around.

It wasn’t that you were afraid to be alone with him, and Eddie trusted you; he simply didn’t trust Steve. Despite Steve not being the same person from high school, multiple events humbling him, his efforts to revive your past relationship persisted. Although his approach was more subdued than before and masked as friendship, there was still an underlying motive. It was no secret either that you were in a relationship with Eddie.

Given the small-town geography of Hawkins, you accepted Steve wasn’t going to just disappear. You managed to adapt to his presence. While you couldn’t deny that this attention boosted your ego, you were resolute about not revisiting the past with him.

“So, I’ve got a copy of Pretty In Pink hot off the press,” Steve announced, showcasing proof of the video tape during another lunch break he spent at your workplace with you on a slow day. “Interested in watching it with me tonight?” he asked, trying to sound smooth and hopeful, adding and emphasizing “as friends,” though not convincingly considering you haven’t agreed to any plans with Steve let alone as that.

You glanced at him, then at the tape in his hands, and then back at him. “Thanks, but I’m not really into rom-coms,” you replied with a small smile.

“What? Since when?” he asked, visibly surprised.

“Since forever…” you answered with a light laugh that almost sounded like a scoff. It internally annoys you because as a former partner, he should’ve known that.

“Oh,” he said, setting the tape down on the counter between you.

“Yeah,” you drawled, trying to fill the ensuing awkward silence. Fortunately, the door chimed, signaling a new customer – saved by the bell, literally.

“Babe, you’re gonna love me! I convinced Robin to save me a copy of Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and she fucking delivered,” Eddie exclaimed excitedly about tonight’s movie, barely noticing Steve’s presence until he reached the register. “Oh, hey, man.”

It’s amusing yet endearing to see Eddie straighten up and square his shoulders around Steve, as if they were in competition. You couldn’t blame Eddie for feeling that way, though he really had no reason to worry he’d lose.

“Hey,” Steve replied, shoving the copy of the romantic comedy aside, embarrassed that he had forgotten your preference for horror movies.

As you and Eddie enthusiastically discussed the sequel, Steve felt out of place, as if you and Eddie were in your own little world, completely forgetting he was still standing there. He couldn’t contribute to the conversation because he hadn’t seen the first movie and didn’t know anything about it to share in the excitement. Eventually, he quietly slipped away with the tape in hand, on the short trek back to Family Video concluding his lunch break.

The notion of ‘forgive and ‘forget’ was bullshit. While you could be civil, deep down, you still harbored hurt and anger over what happened. Much of the past year was spent in an emotional decline that affected various aspects of your life – home, social interactions, physical and mental well-being. Now, however, you were focused on reclaiming your happiness. Places and things around town that once reminded you of Steve and your past relationship no longer brought sadness; you were forging new memories with someone else.

Whether it be in a friend or significant other, Eddie was like your rock. He was there from the start, witnessing your first date with Steve and even expressing his reservations about him. Yet, he knew he had to let you navigate life, love and mistakes on your own. Despite any reckless choices you made, even those that disappointed him, Eddie remained a source of comfort and support because he genuinely cared for you.

Growing closer to Eddie was a breath of fresh air compared to Steve. You didn’t feel the need to impress Eddie; he was always impressed by you. Reflecting on it, you realized how much you had changed to fit in Steve’s world, which now seemed almost pathetic. With Eddie, you don’t have to change anything – your clothes, your diet, your friends, or your interests. He respected you for who you were.

It’s ironic that just as you’re back on track and happy, Steve wants to interfere. What’s even sadder is that he promised an explanation but hasn’t delivered, yet he’s actively pursuing you. So what? You tell your ex you still have feelings for them and miss what you both had. What did he expect? That he was Steve Harrington and you’d jump back into his arms? No. He had moved on, supposedly, and so did you, finally.

Part of you cherished early memories with Steve, and you weren’t going to fail to admit that during the initial attempts, you entertained the thought of what if you got back with him. However, he’s the reason why you struggled to move on and became recluse. Who knows? Maybe he learned from his mistakes or not. What he did to you, he did to her and would likely repeat to others. He only proved that second chances sometimes didn’t matter because rarely do people change. You concluded you couldn’t be more than what you currently were to Steve.

He was the one who chose to end the relationship. He was the one who decided you weren’t enough for him. He was the one who chose to engage with another woman. He was the one who strung you along. He's the one who decided to cut you off. And now, he’s the one seeking a way back in. It was comical because all the tactics he used the first time he convinced you to go out on a date with him didn’t work this time. It had him trying harder and he was failing miserably. You were now the one living rent-free in his head.

The events of this whole situation have allowed you to build emotional strength and learn to love yourself and someone else again. You were happy, and happy with Eddie. You weren’t going to let something silly as an 80/20 rule or a past relationship with Steve interfere with that happiness.

Yet, it goes to show the nerves of some people.

Post A/N: I wish I had this happier ending in real life. Please like, comment and/or reblog. It’ll motivate me to write more and you know also help my self-esteem.

#mrwinterr writing #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female!reader #steve harrington x female!reader #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington

38 notes · View notes

urhoneycombwitch · 3 days

Text

okay I’m thinking about It.

your two girls are old enough now for sleepovers at Auntie Rob and Aunt Vick’s house, so one evening you load up their backpacks with all the comforts of home and kiss them goodbye. then you and Steve have a kid-free house all to yourselves for the first time in AGES.

and you’re both so giddy with freedom that Steve breaks out that bottle of fancy wine his parents had sent years ago when they heard about the wedding (weren’t invited, for a multitude of reasons) and decide to get goofy with it. intending to dance in the living room and fuck on the couch and be willdddd. but unfortunately this Thing happens when you become a parent that neither of you realize until a glass and a half later. and you both get toasted. off not even two cups of white wine.

giggling over each other while trying to cook popcorn. burning it by accident and collapsing into a laugh attack. arguing with sloppy points about who should win TV show-choosing privileges. until Steve Wins and puts on Perry Mason 😑

you end up falling asleep on the couch in each other’s arms which sounds so romantic except everything hurts from not sleeping in your regular positions on a real mattress. and Steve’s like Christ is this really what it’s like to get old?? then puts his glasses on and is like Okay. Gameplan. We have two hours until we have to pick up our kids. Let’s make another one before we leave? and ur like Jesus Harrington it’s SEVEN IN THE MORNING

#the answer is yes tho #dad!steve x mom!reader #dad!steve x parent!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve #steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you

20 notes · View notes

bingbongsupremacy · 2 days

Text

Lonely Pt. 2

Pairing: Stranger Things x reader Zombie Apocalypse AU

Warnings:

Series Summary: A few days after the zombie apocolypse took over Hawkins you lost everyone. Once you finally run out of supplies, you're forced to venture out into the town, hoping not to run into anyone and make it to safety alive. Unfortunately, life doesn't always go how you want it.

Part Summary: You've arrived in some sort of community. Will the leader let you stay?

*Not Proof Read*

This Fic does not mention body type, weight, race, gender, etc. If I happened to mess up and add a pronoun or anything that could define the readers appearance, please let me know so I can fix it. Ty!

ABC List Stranger Things Master List

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

*****

" Where are we? "

The sun is almost completely gone. What's left of the light faintly lights up the inside of the van from the front windows.

" We're-" Eddie begins before Steve interrupts him.

" We can't tell you that. Not yet. "

I get the feeling he doesn't like me very much.

Eddie looks over at the man, letting out a small sigh in the process. " And I thought I was the dramatic one. What the fuck dude, just tell them. "

Steve lets out an annoyed huff. " Think, dude. What if they've got a group? What if they bring back an army that wipes everyone out at our base? "

" I don't have a group. " I try to reassure the man.

Steve doesn't budge. " I'm sorry, I just don't trust you yet. "

" Don't worry, mister Sunshine isn't always this friendly. " Eddie tries to break the tension with humor. " You should see him on poker night. "

" We're here. Eddie, bring 'em in. " Steve orders while the van pulls to a halt.

A faint buzz of noise fills my ears from outside of the van. Where are we?

Steve gets out of the van, leaving me and Eddie inside. Eddie helps me stand up and we patiently wait by the van doors.

The van doors swing open revealing Steve and an older man.

I think I recognize him...

" Sherriff? "

The man's brows furrow. " Are you from Hawkins? "

I nod. " Y-yeah. "

Sherriff Hopper nods at Eddie who leads me out of the van. " Bring 'em inside. "

We follow the sheriff down the road and I'm finally able to take in my surroundings.

Old businesses and buildings make up a long row eventually stopping at a large wall. People watch us as we pass, muttering amongst themselves curiously. Dogs roam the streets, some with collars and some without. Children run through the streets, loud laughter following behind them.

It's a community. God I missed this. I didn't think I'd ever see this again.

I'm led to a tall building, something I assume is the makeshift town hall. Multiple horses tied to the buildings railings stand around outside.

As we step inside I'm hit with a gust of cold wing. AC.

" Fuck, I missed air conditioning. " I let out a sigh of contentment. I close my eyes in and try to soak in the feeling.

Eddie chuckles. " AC is just the tip of the ice berg. "

What do they have here?

The sheriff leads us to an office. He sits behind a desk, folding his hands while he waits for us to close the door. " Who are you? "

Ouch. I thought he'd remember me. So much for small-town life.

" Y/N L/N. " I reply. I shift my hands slightly, uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze.

" Do you have a group? "

I shake my head. I hope they let me stay here. I fucking hate it out there alone. " No. I've been on my own for years. "

" How are you alive? " Eddie asks curiously. " We thought Hawkins was completely wiped out by the virus. How did you make it? "

" I hid in a house until I ran out of supplies. I went out to look for stuff, maybe make my way out of the state to see if I could find anyone else. I didn't know there were so many hordes on Main Street or I would've never done down there. "

" How many people have you killed? " Steve's voice is cold, distrusting. His gaze is sharp. It sends shivers down my spine.

" W-what? I've never killed anyone. I swear, I don't even know how to use a fucking gun! " I turn back to the sheriff. " Besides, I've been alone. Who the fuck would I kill? "

" Did you search 'em for weapons? " Sherriff Hopper asks Eddie and Steve.

" Just found this. " Steve sets my knife on Sherriff Hoppers' desk. " Otherwise, they're clean. "

" What is this place? " I ask.

" This is our community. It's called The Quarry. " Eddie informs as he takes a seat in one of the chairs across from the Sherriff.

" How do you guys have electricity? I thought everything went down when the virus hit. " I ask, very confused to how everything is working.

" We were able to turn on a power plant nearby thanks to some of the engineers who survived. " Hopper pulls out a knife. He cuts the zip tie around my wrist. " You can stay here on the condition that you pull your weight. We have multiple jobs that need positions filled if you're interested. If not, I'll have my boys here take you out a few miles from here and let you go. Your choice. "

" I want to stay here. " I say immediately. " I'll work. I don't care what I do. I just...I can't be out there alone anymore. " I tenderly touch the red lines that popped up from the zip ties on my wrist.

" Hop, I don't know- " Steve begins.

Sherriff Hopper shakes his head. " Steve, have they done anything to make you suspicious of them? "

Steve doesn't respond.

" We give chances here. You know this. " The sheriff turns to me. " You'll need to be checked for bites before we give you a room. Eddie here will give you a tour tomorrow and we can find you a position to work. "

I smile at the older man. " Thank you so much. "

He nods, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. " Eddie, Take her to Joyce for a check-up and then show her to the boarding house. "

Eddie nods. " You got it, Hop. " He opens the office door and we leave the sheriff and Steve behind. " Let's go find Joyce. "

I wonder why Steve hates me?

++++++++

I'm having a hard time figuring out what ship I want in this. What are you guys thinking? Originally this was going to be an Eddie Munson fic but I think I could turn it into an enemies-to-lovers thing with Steve. Or should I attempt a love triangle situation? What do you guys want?

31 notes · View notes

thecreelhouse · 15 hours

Text

accident prone

part two - I laugh often, so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine

Paring: Steve Harrington x fem!OC - Francesca “Frankie” Amato

Summary: Steve and Frankie really get to know one another, and the friendship blossoms quickly. So fast, Steve can’t keep up with his own feelings, even in the face of an emergency.

WC: 8.6k+

Includes: angst, hurt/comfort (like, a lot), internalized ableism, language, PTSD, revolving around Hawkins/the Upside Down, discussions of chronic pain/illness and disabilities, a teensy bit of fluff and flirting if you squint, medical emergencies, etc.

series playlist ⋮ masterlist

here, here and here - meg & dia

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“I’m a wanderer now, sorrow befalls me / I laugh often so, I suppose, I’m gonna be fine”

A/N: hey there! Wow. I didn’t think this would really gain any attention— this fandom seems to hate OCs (y’all’s loss tbh), but the support I got on the last chapter, though small to some major blogs, means a fuck ton to me. I don’t want to tag everyone, but thank you to whoever sent me a kind message or pep talk after posting the first part— I really am glad this is relating to others with chronic health concerns, one way or another. Even if it relates to one person, it means more than meaningless notes. Also, may 12th is Fibromyalgia Awareness Day! So, consider this my contribution lol. As previously stated, for anyone with fibro, or without, but living with a chronic illness/condition, mental and/or physical, I am sending all my love, and this is for you <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The next morning, Steve’s up early; if he can’t push past the pain, he’ll try working with it. He refuses to let the opportunity to get to know Frankie slip away.

And the opportunity for a possible job. That’s important, too. Just… not right at this very moment.

What the hell do I wear?

He glances at the pair of glasses he’s been neglecting lately, just annoyed he needs yet another tool of assistance to help him function; his vision blurs easily these days, especially with migraines. And while it’s not severe, he’s been warned to wear the glasses to prevent further deterioration of his vision.

To Steve, it’s another reminder of how broken he feels. If this was about anyone else, he wouldn’t feel that way, but when it comes to himself, the internal ableism never ends.

Just like the day before, everything hurts terribly. It’s one of those days where even certain fabrics and elastics add to the widespread ache, and it’s not like he has to dress up, but he doesn’t want to just show up in sweats, either.

At least I don’t have to wear that ugly, stiff uniform anymore.

He opts for a well-worn, loose cardigan with a pair of jeans that he ripped at the knee years ago; the tear is conveniently over his bad knee, making it easier to wear the brace he has on his bad joint days. And today, he really needs it.

Steve also needs a boost of confidence and a way to shake his nerves; the thought of seeing Frankie again and possibly getting another job have him on edge.

Too bad there’s no medical device to assist him on that one.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Noticing the ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door of the record shop, Steve hesitates, realizing he should’ve asked Frankie about the hours; a tiny note taped to the bottom of the sign catches his eye. “Unless your name is Steve,” is scribbled in disheveled handwriting, with a small smiley face drawn at the end.

Entering the record shop, he first sees Frankie, sitting criss-crossed on the checkout counter; her cane is laid over her lap while she’s meticulously applying stickers to the aluminum. The door’s chime goes off, and her head pops up, immediately breaking into the warm smile Steve had thought about since the last time they spoke.

“Steve!” There’s an urge within her to hop off the counter and greet him with a hug, but she holds back, reminding herself that they’re barely even friends. “Hi,” She opts for a wave instead, eyes falling to the coffees, one in each hand.

He shyly nods with a sweet smile, all bundled up in layers most folks would consider unnecessary. For him and his temperature intolerance, the obnoxious amount of warmth is very necessary.

“Hi, Frankie,” He hands her coffee over to her, in all its icy, sugary sprinkled glory. She takes it, eyes crinkling as she smiles wide. Steve can’t help teasing, “Cade’s right, you really are sick for liking iced coffee in the winter.”

Her smile flips into a comical frown before snarking, “He’s never getting that damn tape now.”

“The one about dinosaurs?”

Frankie snorts just as she takes a sip of her coffee, covering her face with her sweater bundled arm.

“Robin told me you’d say something like that.”

“… So it’s not about—“

“Steve, it’s the name of a band,” She giggles, moving her arm away from her face. Steve notices the way her sleeves cascade over her hands completely; the sweater she’s in is way too big, but with that and her flowing skirt, she looks comfortable, and warm.

“Right. I knew that!” He tries playing it off with a shrug, “They’re great.”

“You’ve never listened to them before have you?”

He laughs at the knowing smirk Frankie gives him, shaking his head, “Yeah, no, not at all.” If this was high school, he’d be trying to save face right now, to look cool, pretend he knew what he was talking about. Mid-twenties Steve is able to let it roll off his back, poke fun at himself, move on.

Plus, Steve knows this interaction wouldn’t happen at all in high school. Labels and useless popularity would keep them far, far apart. He’s alright with that; Frankie definitely didn’t need someone like ‘King Steve’ and his bullshit to deal with.

“Okay. What about Jawbreaker?”

“… The candy?”

Frankie giggles, shaking her head, before running down a list of bands off the top of her head; The Cure, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Strawberry Switchblade, Sonic Youth, Nirvana, the list went on. Steve says most he’s heard of, but never listened to. Some, he’s heard some of their singles on the radio.

“You’re into all that… punk stuff, right?” He’s a little lost, but he’s headed in the right direction. Frankie doesn’t tease him for it, though.

“To an embarrassing degree,” She smiles, crinkling her nose, and oh, god, Steve’s not expecting the way that sets off butterflies in his stomach. “And new wave, grunge, honestly some pop, too— oh! Dolly Parton! Just her, though, can’t get into any other country otherwise. I’m a mess when it comes to music interests.” She shrugs.

He shakes his head, shrugging his jacket off before unwinding his scarf; Frankie catches on immediately, pointing to the coat rack behind the counter.

“No… it suits you.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“O- oh, no, I meant that in a— it’s a— nice way, promise!” Frankie smirks as he stumbles over his words. “So… got any recommendations on what to start with?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Steve. I’m gonna make you a mixtape later.” No pretentious undertone can be found in her words; Frankie’s just really excited to introduce someone to music they haven’t heard. “What do you listen to, then?”

Steve sits on the stool behind the counter while Frankie still hangs out on the countertop, kicking her legs over the side now. He watches as she continues sticker-bombing her cane; it’s got quite the variety of holographic stars sprinkled about.

“Uh…” He shrugs, tugging at the edges of his sleeves before shoving them in the pockets of his cardigan. “Whatever sounds good, I guess.”

Frankie narrows her eyes at him, “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

Steve nervously laughs as a hint of red creeps across his face.

“Okay, uh… Queen, Springsteen, some of Bowie’s stuff—“

“Some?”

“I just- I can’t get into it all!” He stammers out. Frankie dramatically sighs, throwing her head back with a hand over her forehead, pretending like she’ll faint. When she levels her gaze to him again, she gives a teasing smirk, and he carries on, red in the face. “I like U2’s last album… uh, shit. What’s it called?”

“Achtung Baby?” She’s so quick to answer in a nonchalant tone, like this is common knowledge.

“Yeah! That one.”

“Oh, you’d really get along with my dad, then,” She teases, watching Steve’s expression flatten in a playful annoyance. “That’s not a bad thing! Bring it up in your next appointment— actually, don’t. He’ll talk about it for hours.”

Steve laughs, pushing his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger, “Alright, I’ll try to remember that.”

“Might want to write a reminder with the brain fog,” She quips, and it easily earns a chuckle; if anyone else tried to joke about his symptoms, he’d be bothered. To laugh it off with someone else equally as sick as him, though, is weirdly… cathartic. “Sorry, I’m distracting you. Go on.”

“Okay, don’t make fun of me, but Blondie’s got some good stuff, too.”

“Yes!” Frankie throws her hands out excitedly. Steve admires how animated she can be.

“I like a lot of other stuff,” He’s becoming more comfortable talking about this, not as afraid of rejection. Frankie didn’t give that kind of attitude off, but he second guesses himself always these days. “But it’s just singles and stuff.”

“Gimme a list one of these days, I’ll give you some recs.” She looks up from her sticker work on her cane, warmly smiling, but it falters seconds later. “Not pushing that on you, but it might— you don’t— don’t be afraid to tell me no—“

“Frankie.” Her name comes out of Steve’s mouth like the night before, a combination of reassurance and teasing. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Dusting over her cheeks is a tint of rosy pink as her smile returns, ever so slightly. “Okay, cool.” She plucks a star sticker off the page, leaning towards Steve to stick it on his forehead. Her touch makes Steve’s heartbeat quicken, but it’s over as soon as it began. “Congrats, Steve, you’re hired.”

Brows furrowing, he doesn’t bother to remove the sticker. “What? Seriously? That was the interview?”

Frankie nods enthusiastically. “You already seemed nice, and got a good review from your best friend—“

“Seriously, what did she tell you?”

She pretends to zip her lips shut and shrugs, holding back giggles.

“I’ll get you all that boring ass paperwork later, but yeah, I’m serious.” She holds her cane out, rolling it in her hands to make sure the stars are placed the way she wants. Her tongue pokes out while she’s focused, and Steve thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world. Directing her attention back to him, she continues, “I don’t wanna work with someone I just tolerate.”

Though Steve’s flattered to find he’s more than just tolerable to her, he’s still skeptical; not of her, but how this friendship is growing so easily, so suddenly. “Frankie, we barely know each other.”

“I don’t know anyone else my age that’s disabled, and you just… you get it. I wish you didn’t, but you do. If you don’t wanna work here, no hard feelings, but I want to continue getting to know you.” Her words, her tone, even her facial expression, they’re all sincere. “If you’re up for having a new friend, that is.”

Steve nods embarrassingly fast, but he doesn’t care. “My friends get it to an extent, but I don’t have to explain shit to you, and it’s… well, I don’t want to say nice, ‘cause like you said, I wish you didn’t know what this was like, either. But it makes me feel a little less alone, I guess.” His fingers grip the edge of the stool between his legs, arms straight, as he looks away shyly. “And I- I’d like to make you feel a little less alone too— jesus, that makes me sound like a douche. You get what I mean, right?”

“I get you, Steve, don’t worry,” Frankie picks up her coffee, holding it out to Steve. It takes a few seconds, but he catches on, grabbing his own coffee to hold out to her. “To a sick friendship. Get it. Sick? ‘Cause we’re both—“

Steve knocks his cup against hers, smirking, “Yikes, I thought my humor was corny.”

“Fine, no more jokes at all, then.” She deadpans, but her expression immediately cracks, breaking into a laugh, one that scrunches her nose and crinkles the edges of her eyes. It’s contagious, pulling Steve into her fit of laughter, too. “Yeah, I got a good feeling about you, Steve.”

“Huh? Like what?”

“Oh, we’re not that far in the friendship, buddy.” She props her cane onto the floor, sliding off the counter. The proximity between her and Steve when she’s on her feet is a little too close for him to handle, breath hitching in his throat. “Gotta earn the sappy moments, man.”

With that, Frankie rounds the counter, heading towards an aisle of vinyl records. She turns back to him, “Well, you want a tour?”

Steve’s eyes widen as he scrambles off the chair, “Y- yeah, that’d be— I probably need to know where things are.” Frankie resists teasing him further, leading him around the shop.

The pair walk slowly as she points out the main sections, split into three— vinyl records, cassette tapes, and CDs.

“I still can’t get behind ‘em. They’re too flimsy for my clumsy self.” Frankie’s lips curl in a snarl as she eyes up the racks of the shiny discs, tucked away in their jewel cases.

“At least they’re not LaserDiscs,” Steve murmurs, cringing. “I hated those things.”

“Yeah, never was a fan myself,” Her brows crinkle. “They’re like frisbees.”

“But vinyl… isn’t?”

“No. And I’m not elaborating.”

“Francesca, you’re something else.”

She scoffs playfully, “Can’t believe you just called me that. You’re fired.”

“Mhm, sure.” He smirks before glancing around the shop; it’s on the smaller side, but jam-packed with nearly anything and everything music related. Beyond CDs, tapes, and records, are band shirts, Walkmans, headphones, record players, tape players and boomboxes, useless novelty items, and so on. “So, when’d you open the store?”

“Oh, I didn’t. It’s not mine, only running it for now… kinda took over when the owner had to take a sick leave.” Frankie begins leading Steve towards the back, through a worn, beaded curtain. She points to an open door, “Stockroom,” Then, to the door across the hall. “Break room.”

Steve acknowledges her directions with a nod before asking, “Oh, are they okay? Well, wait. Shit. I guess not if they’re on— my bad.”

Frankie gives him a half-smile, more for the sake of reassurance, along with an answer, “Dementia. So, uh, yeah. Probably not coming back.” A pained expression washes over Steve’s features. “The own— Mr. Fisher wanted to close the shop when his health continued declining, so I told him I’d keep it going for him. This was before the diagnosis, he just knew something was wrong and warned me he’d most likely shut down.”

“That’s… fucked.”

“Yeah. He actually lived a few floors up, now he’s in a senior living home.” She wanders into the break room, falling onto the worn couch hanging out in the heavily used space. Steve sits on the opposite side, not wanting to invade her personal space as he listens intently. “Cool dude, hired me years ago, and he was really into jazz when he was younger. Like, used to play the sax for a living. He knew nothing about punk music, but he loved asking me about it. I learned a lot about jazz from him, too.

“He was empathetic with my pain, too. The couch is back here ‘cause he felt bad I had nowhere to rest on break. Then he ended up using it more than I did.” Frankie’s a little dazed as she retells the circumstances. “I knew he’d never get better, and he knew it too, but I told him I’d love to watch over the business until he’s ready to come back. Couldn’t stand watching this place close, so… yeah. S’why I asked you.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie.” It’s all Steve can come up with, but it’s genuine, and she can tell.

“I hope it doesn’t come off like I’m telling you this so you’re guilted into being here, ‘cause if you wanna find another job, don’t feel like you have to st—“

“You do that a lot,” Steve blurts out, but it’s not mean-spirited. He stammers, “N- not that— it’s not bad— sorry—-“

“And you do that a lot,” Frankie observes bluntly. “Guess we’re kinda similar in the whole ‘overly apologetic’ department, huh?”

Steve glances at her, sighing with a hint of a sad smile. “Guess we are.” He rests his head on the back of the couch, blowing air between pursed lips as his eyes fixate on the ceiling. “Anyway, you’re not guilting me. I’m staying.” Then he sits back up, narrowing his stare at her. “Unless I’m still fired.”

She sits up, shoving her hand out towards him. He grabs it as she shakes it obnoxiously, snorting, “Steve Harrington, you’re re-hired.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Fibro’s just like… a bag of jellybeans.”

Steve scoffs out a laugh, lost on Frankie’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

At the end of the day, Frankie and Steve wound up at a diner, still caught up in the excitement of getting to know a new friend.

“Y’know, it’s always a mystery over what color and flavor you end up with ‘til you get it.” Frankie begins to explain, hands on the diner’s table; Steve’s noticed she talks with her hands, a lot. She’s always so animated, even talking about the most mundane subjects. “And you might have ‘em all, but there might be more of one flavor, or another. Fibromyalgia is just a bag of symptoms, ‘cause you don’t know what’s gonna hurt that day ‘til it does— does that make sense?”

“Oh, like, I get a lot of headaches, sometimes ocular migraines— the first few times, those freaked me out, and joint pain the most, but the other symptoms still exist, too, just not as frequently.” Steve scrunches his eyes shut with a nod, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Right? Or maybe I’m way off—“

“No, that’s exactly it!

“That’s actually… a really good analogy,” He tucks the comparison away in his mind, for future use. “Wait, so you also have fibromyalgia?”

Frankie’s about to answer, until the waitress brings their milkshakes and fries to the table. Her smile over something as simple as a milkshake is contagious, and Steve finds himself grinning along with her.

“Yeah, but we found out lupus was a bigger concern,” She shares casually. “Y’know, I wouldn’t wish fibro on anyone, but I’m pissed you have to deal with it.”

Steve’s face distorts into confusion. “Why d’ya say that?”

“It’s such a fucking mess of a disability. Tests come back normal, x-rays show nothing, MRIs are clear, too— shit is so infuriating. You’re living in constant pain and most people don’t believe you. Then ya’ got these fuckin’ misogynistic doctors who see it as a “woman’s disease”— yeah, it’s more prevalent in women, but men get it too, and it’s like y’all are told to just… suck it up. “Man up”. Deal with it.

“Honestly… not sure which sucks to be told more, that you’re just “hysterical and attention seeking” for being sick as a woman, or being told you’re just a “whiny baby” if you’re sick as a man.”

Steve only stares at her; Frankie feels warm under his gaze, sinking into the booth.

“Sorry, I— you’re so spot on, I have nothing to add.” Steve’s shaking his head, fidgeting with his napkin. “But I can’t get over that someone my age fucking gets it.”

Frankie sighs, relieved to hear she wasn’t overdoing it with her rambling.

“Steve, I hate that we’re both in pain, but it’s… it’s nice not having to struggle alone, for once.” She stretches her legs under the booth, resting her boots on the cushion on Steve’s side. He mirrors her, sneakers kicking up to rest next to her. She smiles, nudging his shoe with her elbow. “Copycat.”

“You really lucked out having a dad who’s a doctor,” Steve softly chuckles, and Frankie smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Immediately, he panics he might’ve said the wrong thing. “I- I don’t mean that in a bad way—“

“No, I know you didn’t. He—” Frankie looks off, eyes fixating on the bustling traffic out the window, despite the two of them being seated in the far end of the diner. She looks back to her milkshake, swirling the straw mindlessly. “He wasn’t always a doctor. He wasn’t in the medical field at all, not ‘til I got sick as a kid.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yup. He got tired of taking me to specialists for them to always say I was being overdramatic, or “Oh, she’s a girl, she might just be faking that for attention.” I guess what I was going through made him realize shit had to change for the sake of us sick folks. I don’t know how anyone would be able to juggle a full time job, full time med school, and raising a kid on their own, but he did it. Even if shit is terrible most of the time, I’m grateful to have a dad as incredible as him.”

Steve let Frankie’s words sink in before curiosity took its hold, “He’s a single parent?”

Frankie sips from her milkshake, looking back at Steve as she sits back. “Wasn’t always, but yeah. Never met my mom, she, uh, she was sick, too. Cancer. Passed before my first birthday.”

“Jesus, Frankie… I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs, trying to let the everlasting sting roll off her back. “I heard she was really sweet, and funny. My dad showed me some home movies a few years back, and it was the first time I heard her voice. She was so pretty, and happy, and—“ She shakes her head, scoffing at herself. “God, I’m sorry for rambling.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. If you ever wanna talk about this… or anything, I might not know what to say, but I’ll always listen.”

“Right back at ya’, Steve,” She murmurs, gaze friendly before sipping her milkshake.

“I don’t think you want to know my story,” He tries shrugging it off, as if a chuckle would follow, but never does.

“I do, and I mean that.” She firmly states, locking eyes with him. “But only when you’re comfortable sharing it.”

Steve nods, “Yeah. Maybe someday. Kinda hard to even talk to my therapist still about it.”

“You’ll get there eventually. On your own terms.” Frankie can tell he’s uncomfortable, searching for a change of subject. She looks back at his legs, still next to her in the booth. “Isn’t your leg cold?” She nods to the hole in his jeans, right above his knee.

“Yeah, but I needed to wear my knee brace today.”

“I can sew loose, stretchy fabric in, and snaps to remove it, if that helps,” She slurps down the last of the milkshake. “You cool with hanging out longer?”

Steve can’t suppress the grin that graces his face.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

Frankie’s apartment is in a repurposed warehouse; a large studio, cluttered with art supplies scattered all about. An easel hangs out in the wide open room near a window, with canvasses, both finished and unfinished everywhere surrounding it. Cups and cups of paintbrushes, tubes of paint, pastels, graphite pencils and drawing pads strewn atop nearly every surface. A sewing machine rested snug in a corner of the open room.

Among it all was the kitchen and living room; down a hallway were the doors to the bathroom, and her bedroom.

After Steve changes into the sweats Frankie found for him, he enters the main room, holding the sweatpants up by the waistband awkwardly, handing his pair of jeans over to her.

“Sorry, I knew they’d be kinda big, but not that much.” She has jersey knit fabric already cut, sewing snaps to the edges. As she works, she elaborates, “I keep a buncha sizes in clothes, ‘cause my weight fluctuates all the time with flare ups.”

“That’s actually… really smart.”

“Yeah, I got tired of buying and donating the same several sizes over and over. Just easier, and cheaper, to keep ‘em all on hand.” Frankie’s zoned into the impromptu project, so Steve wanders around her apartment, stopping at the kitchen table, blanketed with multiple sketches.

“I didn’t know you could draw.” He wonders aloud, glancing over the sketch pad papers. There’s a certain style he can’t quite put his finger on with her work; for plain subjects and ideas, they’re incredible.

Steve turns to the easel with her latest work in progress. It’s a portrait of a woman weeping, holding a mask of her face that’s smiling over her real expression. It’s gorgeous work, but he feels a pang in his chest, wondering if Frankie feels this way more often than not.

“Holy shit, Frankie…” He breathes, recognizing his own struggles through the piece; how often he feels as if he needs to bury his own pain to keep everyone else comfortable. Then again, who hasn’t felt at one point or another they need to cover up how they truly feel?

“I hope that’s a good “holy shit”,” She responds as she continues sewing.

“Your work is amazing,” He’s still staring at the painting, admiring how her art style is slightly unkempt, and leans toward traditional tattoo-style art, but she makes it work somehow; some of the paint bleeds outside the lines, or speckles in random splotches, like watercolors, but it adds character. “Do you just paint as a hobby?”

“I actually had plans to become a tattoo artist, did an apprenticeship and everything,” She murmurs, loud enough for him to hear, but still weighed down with disappointment. She pulls the denim away from the sewing machine, trimming away the loose threads. “Can’t really tattoo when you’ve got unpredictable hand tremors, though. S’why the paintings are such a wreck.”

Oh.

“Shit. That’s…” Again, Steve can’t find proper words of empathy. “I’m sorry.”

Frankie finally glances over her shoulder at him, “Kinda normal for folks like us to leave behind our dreams. Mourn what our lives could’ve been, and what they used to be.”

The familiarity of surrender in her voice hits Steve hard. He might not have had the same dreams to give up to prioritize his health, but it’s still an experience similar to hers. Giving up any dreams or goals he had to accept they probably wouldn’t, couldn’t, come to life. He’s watched his life’s potential slip through his fingers, and has no way of stopping it from vanishing completely.

Mourning what your life was isn’t easy, either. Reminiscing on better health in earlier times of your existence, proof you’ll never be that happy, that healthy again— even if Steve was unhappy deep down in high school, he wishes he had the energy to still fake it.

“Yeah. Fucking sucks.” He mutters. At the same time, Frankie turns to him, holding his jeans out for him to take.

Steve glances over her handiwork, grateful to have soft fabric that’ll finally work with his knee brace, while being removable when it’s too warm out.

“On the bright side, at least you’ve got a friend who gets it now.” She’s speaking softly, with so much, too much, understanding. It helps to finally have a friend who can relate, but with that comes sharing the same emotional hardships, ones that feel endless.

Still, it’s better than navigating that all on your own.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It’s been a handful of weeks— maybe about a month and change— since Steve’s life began to feel good again. He’s not sure how long exactly, he just knows since finding a doctor that sincerely cared for his patients, and befriending Frankie, someone his age he could finally relate to, he doesn’t care to keep track of time like a dismal countdown.

He’s not counting the days he feels like a prisoner in his own body anymore.

Timing, though, is always perfectly unfortunate when it comes to Steve’s luck, and life.

On a dull Wednesday night, he and Frankie are closing up the shop before their plans to meet up with Robin at the diner. Steve has had a muted ache in his head since the previous night, but it wasn’t enough to keep him in bed, thankfully. He took some Tylenol earlier in the day, and that helped with staving off most of the pain. Any relief he can find, he happily takes.

The sun isn’t setting as early anymore, a sign winter’s almost at its end; he’s been looking forward to spring, because this cold has done no favors to his aching joints. Until then, he’s still bundling up ridiculously to keep from violently shaking in the cold.

“Hey, Frankie?” He’s looking behind the counter, puzzled. His head feels heavy, thoughts settling in a thick fog. Pushing past it, he asks, “Have you seen my scarf?”

Frankie returns from the tiny stockroom, keys swinging lazily on her finger. “Is it the blue one?”

“No, it’s—“ Steve pauses, hands on the counter to hold himself up from a sudden bout of dizziness. He gives a weak laugh, “I can’t even remember if I wore one at all. Maybe I didn’t.”

Frankie’s quick to notice something’s not right when Steve practically white knuckles the edge of the counter; her firsthand experience with chronic illness is setting off alarms in her head.

“Steve, you should sit down—“ She rushes around to him, pushing the stool towards him. Grabbing his shoulders, she pushes him gently into the chair. “What’s going on?”

“S’blurry,” Is all he mutters to her. She lifts a hand to his forehead, and he shivers, speaking up a bit more, “You’re always cold.”

She keeps her panic to herself, and rolls her eyes with a tiny smile, pulling her hand away to reach into her bag on the floor; straightening back up with a heavily sticker-bombed water bottle, she hands it to him.

“When’d you last eat?”

Steve shrugs, weakly sipping out of the bottle. “Uh, a few hours ago, I think.” He’s struggling to stay in conversation as the vision in his one eye blurs. “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye.” He points to the right side of his face, hand nearly limp.

“Does your head hurt?”

“Been hurting all day, actually,” He waves his hand in front of his own face, repeating, “Yeah I- I can’t see a damn thing out of this eye.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wasn’t a big deal ‘til now— shit—“ Steve clutches his head; everything’s too overwhelming. The lights are too bright, the buzz of electricity is too loud, and he feels nauseous. The dizziness is only growing stronger, too. Curling into himself, he doubles over, head in his hands as he leans towards his legs. “God, I hate this.”

Frankie rushes to the light switch across the room, turning off all the lights inside; the only light available is what wanders in from the city outside through the windows.

There was one crucial detail Steve left out when he confided in Frankie about his ocular migraines: the pain is so intense, it works in tandem with his anxiety, triggering flashbacks of those miserable last few years in Hawkins.

They roll through so quickly in his mind; the first time he fought off a demogorgon with Nancy and Jonathan. When Steve became a personal punching bag for Billy nearly one year later, the same night he had been roped into fighting off demodogs with the kids, nearly dying multiple times before the sun rose again. The fucked up elevator in Starcourt that plummeted to an artificial hell that also nearly killed him and his friends. He could picture the fists flying at him, his honest answers for the countless times he was asked “who do you work for?” never enough for his captors.

“Stop, stop, stop—“

Frankie hears Steve whimpering while his flashbacks drag him deeper into the past.

Because who can just forget nearly dying far too many times with your friends before turning twenty? Why forget it when the past just continues to help you survive even further carnage?

His lungs burn while he recalls swimming down to the bottom of the lake, in search of the gate, only to be pulled back down after resurfacing to his friends. It’s not easy to erase the way he fought for his life once dragged into the Upside Down, especially not when the scars refuse to fade, continuing to keep the nightmare alive. Even if his scars blended into his worn, tired skin now, the proof lies in each and every person in the group. Hell, the proof is in anyone from Hawkins.

“Steve—“ Frankie’s voice breaks through to him, only for a moment, too quick to pull him out of this traumatic loop of memories.

Vecna. Stumbling upon Eddie, nearly dead, in Dustin’s arms. The “earthquake”. Max deep in a coma in the hospital. Watching the Upside Down bleed into reality on this plane of existence. The ultimate downfall of what was once his hometown— once a haven of memories, good and bad, ones that taught him life lessons, ones that he still reminisces on to this day. Leaving behind everything he loved in that shitty little town. Goodbyes with everyone as they all split their separate ways, with hopes and dreams of making the most of a new life somewhere safe.

Hawkins, Indiana was wiped off the map. Wiped from existence to keep the rest of the world safe.

Hawkins was only a memory, now.

Hawkins was gone.

“Hi, y- yeah, we need an ambulance, my friend, h- he—“

Everyone made it out alive, but what was the point when everyone was hurting badly, one way or another?

What’s the point in surviving if you continue to live in your own personal hell? He thinks, barely making out Frankie reciting the address for the record store. He blindly reaches out for her, still folded over in agony.

Instead of finding her, he finds himself slipping off the chair, hitting the cold, hard floor before abruptly losing his grip on reality.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The first thing Steve sees when his eyes weakly flutter open is Frankie. Everything is blurry, but not like before; his vision slowly comes into focus, while the edges of tunnel vision have faded away. A dim, frail smile appears on his face at her sleeping figure, curled up next to him.

Pressure in his head spreads, like there’s an ache about to begin, but it never does, held at bay. That’s when he notices the IV in his arm, prying his eyes open a little more, baffled and trying to sift through the brain fog.

Frankie stirs, eyes squinting open, but once she sees Steve’s awake, her eyes widen; she sits up too quickly, stumbling out of the chair she folded herself into, catching herself at the last minute.

“Steve—“

“Hi Frankie,” He smiles, dopey and sleepy, like he just woke up from a nap, and not a medical scare. She grabs his hand, and he blushes. Looking down at their hands clasped together, a dazed look covers his features. “Your hand’s not very cold. You okay?”

A laugh slips out of Frankie, “I think all the panic made me overheated.” Her bottom lip wobbles, despite Steve’s lips still curved up lazily, “You’re the one in the hospital bed, I should be asking you that.”

“M’fine, I feel great, actually.”

“That would be the drugs doing their job, buddy.” She’s surprised to hear herself giggle, but it rises a weak yet genuine laugh out of Steve. Her thumb softly swipes back and forth on his hand, still in hers. “You scared the hell outta me, Steve.”

His face drops, beginning to realize the severity of the situation, despite gaps of memory to recall on. “I… don’t remember anything.”

“Do you want me to tell you?”

He wordlessly nods.

“Your head hurt all day, but you didn’t tell me until a migraine started,” Frankie sighs, gently pushing his sweat-matted hair away from his eyes. “I think it was an ocular migraine, ‘cause you told me you couldn’t— well, in your exact words, you said “Frankie, I can’t see shit out of this eye”, and then it— you—”

It all floods back to Steve in a flash— his headache that rolled into a sudden, ocular migraine, making him dizzy and weak. How his right eye went blind, then everything hurt, sent him into a panic, and triggered the flashbacks.

“You fell, too, but thankfully you landed on my bag instead of the floor.” She reaches down to his forehead, just above his brow, gently sweeping a thumb across his skin. “There’s a small bruise, but could’ve been worse.”

That, he ignores. Instead, Steve’s heart drops at the thought of what Frankie might’ve heard or seen. Before he can ask, she gathers the courage to tell him.

“You we’re crying, saying ‘I wanna go home’ a- and ‘stop, stop, stop,’” Her fingers grip his hand, shaking. He squeezes back, sobering up fast from the pain medication. “You kept calling out names, calling for Robin, and I- I don’t know who else, but you sounded so hurt, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t even realize he’s crying until Frankie whispers, “oh” and grabs a handful of tissues from the side table, handing them over to him.

“I— goddammit. I’m so sorry, Frankie.”

“It’s okay—“

He shakes his head, eyes falling shut; he can’t look at her right now, he feels nothing but shame.

“It’s not. It never will be. I wasn’t trying to hide anything or lie, but I- I- I—“ In the midst of his panic, he remembers the plans they had with Robin. His bloodshot eyes lock with Frankie’s teary ones. “Shit, does Robin know—“

“She’s on her way. Thankfully she stopped by instead of meeting us at the diner, right when the ambulance came. I asked if Robin wanted to go with you, but she asked if I could instead; she wanted to grab your meds and a few other things.” Frankie reassures him, but Steve can’t shake the guilt, can’t escape the embarrassment. “Robin’s really a great best friend.”

Steve rubs his eyes, nodding as his voice wavers, “Best friend I ever had. I- I’d be dead without her.”

“Give yourself some credit, man.” A familiar voice floats into the room; Frankie and Steve both look across the hospital room to find Robin, along with Eddie and Dustin trailing in behind her.

“It’s definitely that charming stubbornness to survive y’got going on,” Robin teases lightheartedly.

Frankie looks back at Steve, finding his face about to light up, but he just falls apart again. She releases his hand so Robin can hug him. Steve shakes in her grasp, while Robin murmurs “you’re okay, you’re safe”, soft enough for only Steve to hear; Frankie’s still able to catch it, though.

“Wh— what are you two doing here?”

“You picked the best time to go to the ER,” Dustin grins, trying to point out the bright side. “We were gonna surprise you at the diner, but now we get to surprise you here!” Steve’s smile wavers; he wants to be happy to see his friends again, but the sudden visit and multiple voices, louder than Frankie, makes him wince, too.

Still, he finds himself asking, “Dustin, why are you excited about that?”

“‘Cause, hospitals suck. Unless Eddie and I are in ‘em.” Dustin looks over at Frankie with a questioning, yet friendly look. “Who— oh. Are you Frankie?”

Her cheeks turn rosy while Steve groans, head falling back on the pillow.

Trying to redirect, Eddie teases, “The kid tells no lies, we’re the best free entertainment a hospital can get.” He’s shooting Steve a knowing look that earns a short-lived laugh out of him.

Now Steve knows how Max felt when she woke from her coma, when Eddie was finally stable enough to leave his room next to hers. How him and Dustin did everything they could, said whatever they could say, to crack a smile on her face.

It’s the thought that counts, he thinks, grateful to have friends who care. Steve always felt like everyone would forget him when they all left Hawkins behind. After all, he was usually the one looking out for everyone else. Putting them first. Making sure everyone was safe and sound before himself.

How relieved he was to be wrong, for once.

“How you holding up?” Dustin asks,

“Uh… I…”

All of this is overwhelming; Steve’s still trying to process what happened, was in the middle of Frankie retelling details, and now he’s on an emotional rollercoaster from a surprise visit from two friends he hadn’t seen in god knows how long.

On top of all of that, his head is one loud, startling noise or bright light away from kicking off another migraine.

Robin can tell he’s a step away from falling apart, so she jumps in to give him some breathing room. “I think… we should get snacks from the vending machine. Do either of you want anything?” Frankie shakes her head, and Steve only shrugs without an answer. “We’ll be back, ‘kay?” She backs up, gently pushing the two curly heads out of the room despite their protests; the room falls silent once again.

Steve sighs loudly, eyes shutting as he relaxes into the bed. “I love them, but I— it’s just—“

“Bad timing, I get it. There’s nothing wrong with asking for space.” Frankie assures him, then adds, “I should’ve asked too, do you need me to leave?”

“Don’t,” Steve’s cursing himself inwardly for answering so quickly. “Un- unless you wanna leave—“

“I wanna stay,” She answers at an embarrassing speed, making Steve smile. “I— I can stay overnight, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to say yes.”

“They’ll let you do that?”

“Usually, no, but I know the nurse on shift tonight, and she’s incredibly sweet. Told me already I can stay if I need to.” Frankie smirks. “One, tiny upside of being a hospital regular. Honestly, everyone’s nice here, at least who I’ve met.” She stops herself from rambling, glancing at Steve with concern. “You need anything right now?”

Steve murmurs, “No, just cold,” and releases her hand to pull the covers over himself, shivering. As he does, Frankie catches the scar around his neck while the flimsy hospital gown shifts along with him, exposing a sliver more of him than she’s seen.

He notices her stare, hand flying to his neck in a pathetic attempt to cover it; he’s quick to stammer out an excuse, “Oh that’s, uh, from— it’s actually a long story, but it’s not— it’s—“

Frankie shakes her head, reaching for Steve’s hand to squeeze softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything, not unless you’re ready and want to. Whatever your story is, Steve, it’s for you to tell on your own terms.”

Again, she watches him relax from a tensed state.

“Thank you, ‘Key.”

She smirks, “Y’know, I only let people I’m close to call me that.”

“Oh- oh, shit, I’m—“ He sits up, about to stammer out an apology, but her free hand gently stops him before pushing him back down slowly.

“That includes you.”

“Really?”

“Just one condition.”

“What is it?”

“You tell me if you’re in pain. I know that’s nearly all the time, but if you can’t come in, or can’t hang out, you tell me. Hell, if you need, you can call me if you’re home alone and just need to talk about it.” She softly demands and suggests. Steve nods; it’s only fair, especially after tonight’s scare. “Or even if you still come to work or want to keep plans, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. I’d rather you take care of yourself than push your body past its limits.”

Steve’s mind races around for the right words to return to her, but all he can respond with is a sincere, “Thank you, Frankie.” Then he adds quickly, “All of what you just said, that applies to you too. Got it?” He tries coming off stern, playfully, of course; instead, his lips crack into a smile, but the sentiment is still true.

“Got it, Stevie,” She tries winking, but it looks more like a twitch, and the two burst into giggles. “You make it look so easy whenever you wink!”

Steve just shoots her a smooth, quick wink. In return, he gets her playful eye roll. He finds comfort and safety in the harmless teasing between one another.

Things might’ve gone to hell tonight, but at least Steve didn’t go through it alone.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

When everyone returned to the hospital room, they made sure to keep their tones quiet, soft, and Steve felt some guilt over that, but he reminded himself too that he’s lucky to have friends who accommodate his needs.

He catches Robin, Dustin, and Eddie up to speed, leaving out the gory, telling details of his flashbacks; Robin must’ve warned Dustin and Eddie to not speak about the Upside Down, for Frankie’s sake. And really, for Steve’s sake, too. After his mind ran through every event, every memory, down to the very last detail, he was exhausted. The last thing he wanted to think or talk about was Hawkins, and all the horrors it once contained.

And once proper introductions were made, Steve admired the way Dustin and Eddie automatically included Frankie into every part of the conversation, making sure she felt welcomed among them, too.

Steve needed this. He needed the distraction, needed the laughter, the inside jokes, with stories explained to Frankie to keep her in the loop. The longer the visit went on, though, the more Steve realized at some point, he’d have to explain everything to Frankie. She told him to take his time, that he wouldn’t ever need to talk about it if he wasn’t ready, but he’d rather get it out in the open sooner rather than later.

This friendship was something Steve never had with anyone else before, and he was quickly growing attached to the dynamic. He never expected to grow attached to Frankie so fast, either. Or at all.

Visiting hours end, with Dustin hugging Steve a little too tight, apologetic as he loosens his arms when Steve grumbles in pain. Dustin narrows his eyes at Steve, repeating a sentiment from the time they were stuck in the elevator in Starcourt. “If you die, I die. So don’t die.”

“Oh, we changed that one up a bit? Alright,” Robin snorts, and Dustin flips her off.

Meanwhile, Steve only shrugs. “Okay.”

“Some things never change,” Robin mutters, shaking her head.

The older two out of the trio say their goodbyes, too, with Eddie reminding in a sing-song voice, “Gonna bother you again tomorrow, Big Boy.”

“Please, for the love of—“ Steve sighs, sinking under the covers, embarrassed. “Stop calling me that.” Frankie’s lost, but still giggling over the exchanges; he points at her, “No, don’t— do not encourage his nonsense”

“Respectfully, no, I’ll never stop.” He grins while Robin shoves him out of the room. As he’s nearly out the door, he waves and shouts, “Nice meeting you, Frankie!”

Alone, yet again, Frankie bites her lip to contain her laughter, and Steve narrows a glare at her. “Oh, I can already tell you’re gonna be trouble with them.”

“Listen, it’s not my fault your friends are funny and charming.”

“They’re anything but—“

“Oh, I’m telling ‘em tomorrow you said that.”

“Where’s your proof, Amato?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Harrington.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

Laughing, his brows knit together, “I would!”

He tries to conjure a better comeback to throw her way, but his thoughts fizzle out while watching her set up the chairs into a makeshift bed.

“Frankie.”

She spins around, watching Steve lean up on his elbow. “Huh?”

“You’re not sleeping on those chairs. That’s gonna kill your neck. And your back.” Steve deadpans, pulling his glasses off to set them on the nightstand. “And every other joint in your body.”

Frankie snorts, holding her arms out, “Then where am I sleeping, Steve?”

“Up here,” He’s even surprised by his own boldness, but carries through. “With me.”

If one could hold someone’s gaze in a death grip, Frankie would be doing that right now with Steve’s stare; disbelief and skepticism floods through her thoughts.

“Unless that’s too— if you’re not comfortable—“

“Steve,” Frankie pushes past the way her round cheeks flush red, “We gotta stop second guessing ourselves like this.”

“Yeah, but I just don’t want to assume—“

“When you’re close with someone, assumptions are kind of a given. When someone gets you, it’s not offensive.” She holds the extra pillow a nurse gave her earlier to her chest. “I’m okay with it, if you are. And I’m going to assume you are, because you asked—“

“Demanded—“

Her mouth falls open at his bluntness, “Okay, Big Boy, slow down—“

“Francesca,” He groans, falling back onto the pillows, “please do not call me that.”

She laughs softly, tugging the edges of Steve’s lips into a soft smile; he’s a goner. He knows he is. He’s known for awhile now, but her laugh, her smile, solidifies it.

“Okay, Steven.”

Waving his arm out towards the uncomfortable hospital bed, he sasses, “Will you shut the hell up and get up here?”

“Didn’t know you were so bossy in bed, Steve,” Frankie waggles her brows at Steve, and while he tries rolling his eyes, his face falls back into a deep shade of red she’s been so easily able to pull out of him these days.

“Christ, Amato, do you ever sh—“

“Shut it, man. I’m moving as fast as a cripple can,” She teases, rounding the bed to climb into the empty side. Kicking her boots off, she swings her legs into the bed. There’s just enough room for her, but only if she presses against Steve by just a touch. “If this is too close—“

“It’s not—“

“Okay, well—“

“‘Key?” Steve’s voice wavers, soft and unsure of himself, despite the habitual teasing. “Can you— shit, this is stupid—“

“Whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” She reassures blindly. “Ask me.”

Steve takes a deep breath, nerves seeping through the overly confident demeanor the drugs gave him. “Can you… can—“ He sighs, frustrated with himself, before blurting out, “Can you hold me?”

Frankie doesn’t answer, not verbally; already on her side, she winds her arms around Steve’s torso, hugging him lightly from behind.

“This okay? You’re comfortable?”

He just nods definitively.

“Steve… your gown is open.”

He panics, shooting up and throwing a hand behind himself to try closing the opening, until he feels Frankie shake against him with laughter.

“You’re such a— quit laughing!” Steve laughs as he tries demanding this of Frankie.

“M’sorry, it was just— the opportunity was there, I had to take it.”

He sighs, suppressing his grin, his chuckles, laying back down. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Best place to have one though, no?” Frankie settles down, snuggling closer to him; her position is certain, yet leaves room for Steve to distance himself if he wants.

He doesn’t answer with words, just tugs her arms closer around his body, her hands to his chest.

“Hey, Frankie?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you. I know those migraines aren’t exactly life threatening, but…” He trails off, closing his eyes before admitting the truth, “They make it so… so hard to want to be alive. I’m grateful for your help. I’m sorry you had to witness that, but I— you—“ Oh, fuck it. “I didn’t expect to become so attached to our friendship, to you. But… I’m one lucky, unlucky son of a bitch to have someone in my life like you.”

Frankie feels her tears well her eyes; her and Steve are both so easily emotional— it comes with the territory of being sick on a regular basis. Who wouldn’t be? Realistically, how can you expect someone in the depths of internal and external pain to navigate this life with ease?

Neither of them are cured from the security of this friendship, but it’s reassuring to both that neither are alone in this fight against the bodies they pilot, day in, day out. No definite future for either separately, but at least they can navigate it together.

Frankie’s almost sure Steve’s asleep, so she speaks up to make sure.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

She sighs, pushing her sentiment into words, solidifying the security of their friendship, at the very least.

“Whatever hell you lived through,” Her voice wavers while on the precipice of sleep, barely heard under the heart monitor’s routine beeps. “I’m glad you survived.”

He’s half asleep, heart monitor rolling to a steady crawl “M’glad I survived, too.”

#Steve Harrington x fem!oc #Steve Harrington x oc #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #my fics #accident prone

20 notes · View notes