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herstarburststories · 2 years

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the top of my list (steve harrington x reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: As senior year comes to an end, Steve Harrington has a list of what he wants to accomplish before graduating. Those things include you.

A/N: This is my first attempt to write a Steve story, so there's a lot of Steve's thoughts. ♡ I used a pick-up line that a boy tried on me last week, I just think it's Steve!!

Disclaimer: PINING!STEVE, angst, fluff, mentions of king Steve, unbeta'd

This is all he ever knew. All these classrooms, the barely eatable food, the gym, mrs Bloom boring classes. Hawkins High School was his tiny world in a small town. The flawless kingdom to king Steve.

Or so it used to be. It's been a little too long since he felt on the top of the world when walking through these crowded halls, and Harrington doesn't quite recall the last time he collected all the eyes on him and his friends at the lunch table — not that he has many of those left. To think that his biggest issue was to pick a part some girls's numbers in the little notes in his pocket. Parties sound like a noise, he talks to kids more than to people his age, and he actually studies now. He tries to. His old self would mock him if he could. Not that he misses who he used to be, just what he used to have.

Somewhat, Steve keeps a grip on a couple of dusted dreams. Part of him remains craving for silly things that he used to gravitate to, even when he believes he probably shouldn't. Stupid teenager things, as he'd put. A piece of paper in his hands with all his desires is anything but a scarlet letter, yet he can't wait to achieve all those items, a fantasy that maybe if he can accomplish those, school would feel good again.

This place used to be his. This used to be his home, or what he thought that a normal home would be like: everyone knew who he was, everyone saw him. Steve was never on his own at school, he never had to beg to be heard as he did at home. He simply showed up and people wanted him around. No "I'm busy, Steve" or "I have a meeting". No excuses, no hustled demonstrations of plastic love through fake niceties that last less than a business call. Everyone liked him at school, even when he messed up— they even applauded him when that happened! Classmates saw him as a king, but the aspect that had a hold on him was that they wanted more. All the school girls wanted a call, and the guys wanted his advice as if he was some sort of role model. Every aspect of his caught interest. Once before.

Nowadays, whispers fill the hallways more than dreamy sighs when he passes by. Rumors about Billy becoming the new king, and how they haven't seen Harrington in a party or with a girl hanging on his arm in months. Someone even called his hair greesy.

When did the world turn so fast and tripped on its route? What did he do wrong this time?

He used to be the king, but their classmates never loved him. It was just adoration laced with idealization, with some quiet envy. Can't blame the poor popular boy for misunderstanding such emotions; he never met love, how is he supposed to know its face?

Steve is so tired of feeling alone, of starring at his walls and pretending to occupy his time when he's just wasting it. Since Nancy left, all his nights overflew sorrow, his body ached with the void inside. His big house with a pool always seemed like a dazzling prison whenever he was alone for too many days. It just adds insult to injury that it's been a while since his parents remembered about him. 15 days since the last call, 2 months since the last check up meeting. Not that he was counting, of course.

There isn't anything but an empty home and a boy just as empty living in it, a boy who is hallow. In the quiet of the night, he waits for a noise. Steve is never scared when he hears one, he's rather hopeful. Although, it is easier to be robbers than his parents, at least robbers want something from you, unlike his parents. He's vacant, he's sad, he's missing without being missed, he has nowhere to run to, and he attempts to find something inside himself, but there's a heart which behaves as vortex: hugry for affection, for care. Because there's no one to be around. He's just a star with no eyes to gaze at him, no person to recognize his shine in the dark. Harrington would call someone to ease his solitude, but there isn't anyone on the phone waiting for him. Dear God, he just wants to be wanted.

Steve just wants to be wanted.

Therefore, he glances at the small list in his hands, dropping his simple desires to his senior year at Hawkins High School with a sharp pen.

Basketball championship!!

College (or tech)

Win a fight (throw it at henderson's dipshit face)

Kiss Y/N, or call her on a date, or talk to her without sounding like an idiot. KISS Y/N.

It's not much yet, but it's enough to bring a smile to his battered face.

It doesn't take too long for his plans to pill up into a disaster. College tosses him away like some clumbled piece of paper, and of course his dad decides to remember that he had a son just in time— which means no more money and a stupid job to 'learn responsibility'. His basketball team conquers just the second place, which isn't bad, but wining that competition could've pushed him into a university with a scholarship. Not to mention his hand-to-hand combat ended up with Billy almost destroying his eye.

Senior year is supposed to be the time of his life, nonetheless, it feels like he's falling from a precipice, like someone pushed him out of his pedestal and he's just a face on the ground now.

Steve rolls his eyes, deciding that his idea was bullshit. Just like everything else about him. Nancy was right, at least she escaped, his mind coaxes the thought into his brain. Because he was an asshole who messed up everything and everyone he cares about. As always.

Inside his car, the overthrown king glares at his wish list through the music noises coming from the house he parked right by. That stupid list got his hopes up, made him believe that maybe he wasn't a fuck-up, maybe he deserved something. Someone.

The brutality of reality is more violent than the apocalypse he had to face. He'd take broken bones over broken spirit everytime.

“College didn't want you, your parents didn't want you, your friends didn't want you, nancy didn't want you,” he murmurs to himself, rotting away his delusion about getting one thing right. You. “she obviously won't want you either.”

His eyes are locked with the paper. every craving crossed out with red paint, every lime seeming to mock him for not being good enough. harrington groans to himself, about to rip it off and leave to his house when he sees you.

Y/N Y/L/N. Walking into the party with a beam and a tight skirt.

Steve observes you like you're in a film reel, mesmerizing every aspect of you rapidly. your beautiful hair looks soft, soaring through your steps as you enter. he could close his eyes and catch a glimpse of you in his eyelids, as detailed as the old posters pinned on his bedroom's wall. He was simply, undeniably marveled by you.

His eyes dart towards the paper again. One ultimate item, one try. There is still one chance to make his last year remarkable in a good mood. Attempt to make it right.

Harrington shoves the note inside his pocket and gets out of the car, walking through the garden gates, the same way you took to arrive the party. He usually isn't nervous to talk to girls, but he can feel his palms sweat when his brown eyes catches you grabbing a drink on the kitchen.

His heart has been collecting dust for so long, as some abandoned ornament that he forgot how to use. After Nancy, love just didn't make sense. Until he saw you, with your smart mouth and pretty smile, dappling his battered moments with a peep of hope, even though you didn't know.

You laugh at some dude tripping on his feet and almost bumping into you, probably a freshman. Steve rolls his eyes at the man blushing whilst he apologizes to you.

What an idiot, he thinks to himself. Still, he wants to be the idiot that almost falls and makes you laugh. Shaking his head, he tries to think of a way to approach you. This used to be so easy, why can't he come up with a pick-up?

“come on, you can do that. hey, you're going to college?” he wonders, mumbling, “don't be an idiot. what are you gonna say next? that you weren't accepted in any college?”

Man, even Henderson was doing better with girls than he was.

Someone taps on his shoulder and he turns around, a student greeting him with and starting a quick conversation. That would be a good way to cool down. The chatter dries after a couple minutes and he's on his way to talk to another classmate.

As Steve seeks around to see you, you are no longer in the kitchen. The brunette sighs, but a on his back requires his attention before he can leave to search for you.

“I'm sorry!” the woman apologies before he can even see where the hit came from, but steve turns to her in a heartbeat. it's you! destiny was on his side. “you okay, Steve?”

He can't help but think that his name sounds good on your tongue. Steve just wants you to keep saying it. He blinks to himself, regained composure before he throws words at you. Suddenly, the wish list on his pocket weights a million pounds, and his tongue is dormant. What is he supposed to say?!

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows kitted together in an adorable frown. He knows he's taking too long to answer, but this is his last chance before you go to some fancy college and forget anything about the hell hole that's your hometown and about him.

Steve can dress it up, wear a masquerade and shoot his shot with a some pick-up line, which was his first thought. Although, the boy doesn't want to use his charm, he just wants to tell you the truth. He just wants to have a real chat with someone other than Dustin.

Thing is, right now Steve Harrington is glaring at you with stars in his eyes and a dumbfounded grin, there's just one thing he can say: the truth.

“You know, I didn't notice it before you hit me, but you look beautiful.”

It's true, because the sight he presenced from a far can't compare to having you this close. Steve doesn't want to pull away.

You laugh. He's not sure if you're laughing at him or with him, but you're laughing and it's because of him!

Take it, dude who stumbled on the kitchen. A sense of pride overcomes him, the sentiment drawing a smile on his face.

“I know, it's shitty. But it's pretty cute, ain't it?”

You cross your arms, traces of a giggle on the edge of your lips, “Did it ever work on a girl before, Harrington?”

“I don't know, it's the first time I've ever said that.” he shrugs, looking away before his eyes locked with yours, “Not many girls hit me.”

“I'm not sure I trust you on that one, King Steve,” you mock him, despite your fonding voice.

“I can show it to you,” Steve quickly takes the opportunity, leaning in with a lopside grin. At least you couldn't hear his heart beating the shit out of his chest, “You go on a date with me and if you feel like hitting me by the end on it, I'll take you best slap.”

You bite your bottom lip, pretending to consider his offer, and he can't help but stare.

“Make it a punch and we have a deal.”

“Ouch, you really want to hurt me that bad?” Harrington places a hand on his chest, his mouth contorting into a playful grimace.

“No, I won't,” through your joyful words, he trusts it.

You ask him about all the types of things, you touch him softly, you listen, you tease him, and chuckle at his jokes. You act as if he's the only person you wanted to talk to at the party, as if want his company as much as he wants yours. Reciprocity. He had lost the touch with it among the year, it's tender to have it back. And he does the same to you, resting his has on yours and smiling like a fool who found gold in the dirt. It's simple, it's all he craves for: to be wanted and not just needed.

Steve is a brittle soul after so much calamity in the past years, but perhaps his pieces can fall back together. Or so he believes when you touch his arm and nod at pizza on the table.

He knows he went through some bad shit, that he was hunted by monsters and all that freak stuff. But it doesn't seem that bad when your perfume hits him and you look away, presenting a shyness when he cupped your cheek. You don't push him away, you just pull him close. All the black-eyed peaches thrown away in the name of a kiss that's so sweet.

So you put your lips on his, it's the best year he has ever had with all the scars. Steve kisses you back, it's the kind of emotion thrill that will cause you to dance around your room all alone and keep him up at night for all the right reasons.

(steve tries to hide the paper and his blushed face when you slide your hand into his pocket to hide from the cold and accidentally finds his list, but you're quicker. you're beside him when he crosses the wish, and you wonder if he'd make another list for you two as you place a word)

4. Kiss Y/N, or call her on a date, or talk to her without sounding like an idiot. KISS Y/N. I kissed you, dork!

Did you like it? Comment and reblog! It helps me to know you want more content.

STEVE HARRINGTON TAGLIST IS OPEN! Send me an ask or dm to be tagged.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington headcanon #steve x you #joe keery #joe keery x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve the king harrington

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megxplryxb · 1 year

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Masterlist <3

Steve Harrington fics

Roommate Romance

Romance is Dead, Isn't It?

More Than This Part 1

More Than This Part 2

Dance With Me Forever

Let Me Show You

Serving More Than Ice Cream

Our Little Secret

Tainted Love

Date Night

Fighting The Fireworks

Green With Envy Pt.1

Green With Envy Pt.2

Things We Didn't Say

Bite Me

Truth or Dare

Unfaithful

Steve Harrington Imagines

Steve Imagine #1

Steve Imagine #2

Steve Imagine #3

Steve Imagine #4

Dating Steve Harrington Would Include

Colby Brock

Lockdown Lovers

As Bad As You Are

How Can it be Over When it Never Really Started?

Daryl Dixon

Addixon

Pete Dunne

Twisted Temptations

Secret Passion

Till The Bitter End

Currently Working On.....

Steve being totally in love with his friend Eddie’s girlfriend. ❤️ (Not a Steddie fic)

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am-i-jojo · 11 months

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As soon as i saw the barbie trend, i knew what i had to do.

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joellkeeny · 2 years

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✧*:･ﾟtoxic!steve x fem!reader

warnings: smut. douchebag/cocky steve. a bit of angst.

part 2.

— ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

☁︎ Steve and his fat cock, going around the school and taking each of the girls for a ride in the backseat of his car or any other place he could bring them to, hearing them come back to school the next day with incredible stories of Steve; his abilities, his horse-like cock, and that sweet mouth of his making almost every girl crumble at just the thought.

☁︎ eventually, one day, one of your closer classmates turns up to school after a party with a similar story of how Steve took her in Tina's bathroom against the wall. Which, by her details sounded otherworldly, and frankly, ridiculous to you. No way he could be that good and have all the girls drooling over him while striding through the halls with that insufferable smirk of his and perfect, shiny hair.

☁︎ so you keep yourself tucked away in the little corner in the lunchroom where you and your small group of friends usually sit, until one when The King himself slides into the seat next to yours. You're baffled for a moment, even more so when his honey-like eyes, glazed with mischief and trouble, settle on you, introducing himself ─which of course he didn't need to do─ before he steals a fry from your tray. You should've found the gesture annoying, or too cocky, but Steve Harrington was probably the only one who could pull that off.

☁︎ at the end of history, your only shared class, he writes his number on your wrist, shooting you a wink which under no circumstances should've made you as giddy as it did. You knew he was not looking for anything serious, but you still let yourself fall willingly into his trap nonetheless.

☁︎ when you finally build up the courage to call, he's more than pleased to invite you to the bonfire him and some of the other kids from school are planning on Friday night. And how can you say no when he says there's going to he s'mores? And so, on Friday night, you dress in one of your better dresses, nervously doing your hair in the mirror before hearing Steve honk, signalling he's already in the front of your house, his BMW purring loudly as he waits.

☁︎ 'a few' people, turn into more and more until at least half of the seniors and a few juniors were bunched around the large bonfire by the lake, warming themselves up as the wood cracked away under the heat of the golden fire. Steve didn't hesitate to offer you his jacket wrapping it snugly around your shoudler, flashing you a smile as his hand smoothly slips around your shoulders, pulling you into his side while you cook your marshmallow, Steve already waiting with the biscuits and chocolate in his lap. And just as smoothly, he wipes some melted marshmallow from your lips, sucking his thumb clean, and he know he has you in his trap when you lick your lips where his thumb has previously been, blushing as you look back down at your converse, kicking a small rock.

☁︎ not even half an hour later, he's walking you back to the car, your shivering body pressed tightly against his while you apologize profusely for not putting on something more accommodating for the current weather. "Don't worry, I don't mind. Can't leave a pretty girl to freeze to death, right?" Though you know he's teasing you as he squeezes your shoudler, you can't help but let out a small laugh, your head leaning against him. You're back to his car in no time, letting you climb inside with a brush of his hand down your back, pulling away dangerously close to your ass. It's like he knows every little touch that makes you tic, every word that brings out the warm blush in your cheeks, despite the cold-ish weather.

☁︎ one thing leads to another and you find yourself face to face, almost nose to nose with him as he tries to admire your eyes. Of course he used that cheap line which otherwise wouldn't have worked on you, but as everything tonight, makes you open up to him a little more. "You have beautiful eyes, you know? Mind if I take a closer look? It would be a shame not to." And so, his warm and calloused palm holds your cheek as he gazes into your eyes, noticing the sudden swell of your pupils and hitch in your breath, your eyes growing heavier expectantly. He knows the signs, he's done this a million times before, so he knows this is the moment.

☁︎ his lips finally push to yours, the kiss is far from gentle, his hand slipping at the back of your neck to keep you in place while he bends over the console. His lips are needy, demanding, taking from you what he wants and you just have to stay there and take it, you wouldn't have it any other way. But then he's leaning back, taking you with him, settling you on his lap and the cold which was once running through your body now completely gone. He's biting and tugging on your lip, abusing the soft pillowy flesh and you can't help but whine and cant your hips down, your clothed cunt pressing to the front of his jeans.

☁︎ he chuckles, even tutting in a mocking manner while he gazes at you, your lips kiss swollen and flushed a pretty red color, just as you cheeks. You pant, your hands fisted at the front of his shirt, eyebrows pulled together at the sudden lack of contact."You knew what you were getting yourself into when you called, didn't you?" He knows that, don't even need to ask, yet he hums when you nod frantically, giving a slight tug on his shirt, his jacket now thrown in the backseat. "Trying to act coy and innocent, making me seek you out." He makes you sound like a prize, a trophy, a notch on his belt, because for him, that's what you are. Just another good story which he'll remember over a few years."Think I don't know how jealous you are of your friends?" Then his hand moves lower from where it was previously resting on your waist, to your thigh and then up again under the skirt of your dress. You can't help but whine, pushing your cunt into his hand, the warmth and wetness undoubtedly seeping through the thin material while his fingers feel you up over it.

☁︎ after teasing your puffy cunt, you finally get to take a breath when his hands leave your body to unbuckle his belt expertly. Seeing the opportunity, you lean down and kiss at his neck, hearing the pop of a button and slow ripple of a zipper, followed by a groan. Though the car is pretty spacious, you choose to press yourself close to his body, seeking out every ounce of warmth he has to offer, breathy pants making the windows foggy. And then you're pulling back, breaching your hands on his shoulders as he lifts you up with his hips to shuffle his constricting jeans down his thighs. You swallow, looking down at his lap, and through the dark of the night and the limited light from the full moon you can barely make out the proeminent bulge in his black boxers.

☁︎ he's pulling you in for another kiss while he grasps your wrist and pushes your hand against his cock as if to scold you for how hard you made him. Your mouth runs dry, a gasp leaving your lips as you feel him up, not needing your eyes to assess the situation. "Jesus-" It's all you can get out as you squeeze him, the fucking pillar between his legs only making one thought flow through your head. 'Jesus; the stories are true, and he might just split me open with that thing.' He relaxes for a second as you seek out the waistband of his boxers before he's pulling himself out, the throbbing length slapping almost painfully to his stomach, if you squeezed him tight enough you would be able to feel him pulsing in your hand.

☁︎ "Not getting cold feet on me now, are you?" He chuckles, being awfully cocky, though having every reason to while he shuffles under you, pulling your hips over his length impatiently and moving your underwear to the side, brushing the pad of his thumb over your clit just to feel your hips jut against him with a soft whimper. Shaking your head vigorously at the mention of wanting to dump him, you raise your hips, glancing down where the bulbous tip of his cock is pressed against your entrance and you take a deep breath. He knows what he's dealing with, so he just keeps his hands on your hips, not moving you, just letting you do it at your own pace.

☁︎ and then you're sinking on him, albeit only taking the first few inches before stopping and shuddering, your lip quivering before you tuck it between your teeth, muffling your sounds. And he knows, he can feel that you're fighting the stretch, feeling your cunt constrict around him and even though he loves it, he knows he won't be able to go any further if you don't relax. "C'mon baby, don't fight it, need ya to relax." You hate how soft his tone is, you hate the fact that this is going to be the only time you're going to hear him call you 'baby'. The said nickname melts your heart and makes you go almost slack in his hold, walls releasing some of the tight squeeze and you're able to slide even lower, your nails digging into his shoulders and squeezing while you wait to adjust.

☁︎ but he's so fucking sweet because he knows that's how he'll get you to behave and do as you're told. He's not sweet because he might be caring for you, or because that's his true nature, no, he's sweet to you just to feel his cock slide in deeper, just to make you take another inch in. And so you do, falling into the trap of his sweet words and gentle touches as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a soft gasp, his thighs end up flush to your ass.

☁︎ you just want to cry from how mind numbingly big he is, stretching you to your limit, the tip of his cock reaching your cervix and pressing against it. "Attagirl, takin' this big fucking cock all the way in. Gonna go to school tomorrow and tell your friends what a good girl you've been, hmm? Having The King's fat cock up this tight pussy all night while he took you in his car, not even four hours after picking you up?" There's too much and not enough you want to say, not that your mouth is able to do anything else than stay there and let him ruin your insides without even moving yet. You sniffle, a pathetic little sound while you collapse to the side, your face pressed up against the window of his car, thighs twitching from the seemingly never-ending burn between them. "St-Steve...s'hurtin' me." You babble, the fullness pulling out a stray tear from your waterline even though you try to trap it in place by squeezing your eyes shut. "I know, baby, I know. Just gotta be strong for me. I'll make it fit." He surely was amazed, though not letting that show in neither his tone or his face, never has he encountered a girl so determined to take him, most would just give up a bit over halfway in, only using that part to get off, but here you are, fully sitting on his lap, his cock pushing so far inside you it makes him feel lightheaded.

☁︎ and when he thought it couldn't get even better, you give the first rock of your hips, hands trembling as they push up into his hair, gripping the strands. Normally, he wouldn't have anyone messing with his hair, but now he couldn't care less while he gazes up at you, taking in the way your features seem to slacken and get loopy just because of his attention, desperate to please, to be good. His hands tighten their grip on the fat of your hips, helping you rise the slightest bit before pushing you down again. You let out the first moan of the night, and he knows he never heard something so raw and beautiful, so he does it again until you slip into a rhythm, movements getting bolder and harsher, as if having him ram into your insides was the only thing you ever needed. Your arms wind around his neck, resting your forehead against his, your thighs burning and straining, already predicting the trouble you'll have walking tomorrow. He takes that as a sign to help you out so he starts fucking up into you faster. Grunts and moans spilling from his lips while his head swims with that dizzying tight fit around him, milking him for all he's worth.

☁︎ you cry out with each slam of his hips, his length so full that is stroking your sweet spot perfectly, head throwing back and he can't be more eager to press his lips at the expanse of skin, sucking some marks on it that say 'Steve Harrington claimed me' from miles away, there's no doubt that you'll be the talk of the school tomorrow, but you can't care less, not when you get more cockdrunk with every nudge of his dick inside of you. He's panting, pushing you back slightly to gain a better angle, and you body immediately tenses, a sharp cry mixed with a squeak falling from your lips, jaw slack, head lolling to the side. Normally, you would be embarrassed to act like that, like he's fucking you so good your mind is empty and you're completely dumb, ruined by him.

☁︎ by the time you feel the coil in your stomach tighten, he's fully driving inside of you, the car rocking with the rapid movements, dirty words and sounds falling from both of you. "Fuck─ tell me, can I fill this pretty cunt up? Can I send you home with my cum dripping down your thighs?" His voice is straining, and you know he's anticipating his release just as much as you are, body shaking uncontrollably in his hold while you cry out loudly, cumming on his cock before you can even think of an answer, squeezing and milking him, eager to feel him follow you into the sea of bliss."Y-yeah, mmm-Steve! Please give it to me!" You beg and he just about dies on the spot when he hears you say so prettily for his cum, his heavy length twitching inside of you wildly before he stills, pushing hips hips up into you with a guttural groan as he cums inside of you, abs twitching and eyes screwing shut with each spurt of cum inside of you.

☁︎ that night, he drops you off, leaving you a cryptic."See you tomorrow." Though that's what he always says, you know it because you've heard it from countless girls around the school, it breaks your heart a little, for a moment expecting to hear something different, somethng more reassuring of a possible next 'date', but you knew when you first picked up that phone and called what you were getting yourself into, so with a nod and final kiss you leave. The next day, is plain and clear to everyone what happened on Friday night at the bonfire as you're almost limping through the halls, hissing and cursing each time you sit down or get up, you cunt almost begging for that stretch and fill again. And when you see him through the halls again he's not even looking at you, talking with his friends as if you were in the past, while he's planning the next girl who's going to fall for his charm and looks.

#stranger things #steve harrington #x reader #stranger things s1 #steve harrington is pretty #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve the hair harrington #steve the king harrington #steve x reader #toxic!steve x reader #joellkeeny #stranger things blurb #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington babygirl

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 8 months

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first love // paper heart

🎶 paper heart by dayseeker

(AU) Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[a/n] I'm sorry its been so long, life has been pretty chaotic but I'm slowly finding the time to write again.

[warnings?] self doubt, toxic relationship, angst and uncertainty.

first love masterlist here!

You’d been up since the early hours of the morning, watching the sunrise roll in with it’s inky colours fading into a warm hue as time passed slowly. The calm breeze and the faint chatter of the city calming you from the raging thoughts that swarmed your mind as you mulled over each decision that led you to this point.

Against your better judgement you’d followed Robin’s advice and messaged Julien accepting his offer of a date which was rapidly approaching. On one hand you were rather excited, not having been asked out in a while however, you also couldn’t help but feel guilty. Not wanting to hurt Steve’s feelings, for whatever dumb reason that may be, but alas you had to help yourself out and try to move on.

Feeling eyes on you, you look over towards Robin who lay sprawled out on her bed, shooting you her infamous knowing look, eyes speaking a whole conversation within the comfortable silence of the room. The low lights bounced off her prominent features, casting a cognisant expression over her face. You’re thinking too loud.

Of course she knew what was bothering you, shooting her the exact same look she’d just given, not wanting to admit it out loud, feeling stupid enough as it is worrying over a boy. A boy that held your entire being in the palm of his hands without even realising it.

Breaking you from your thoughts once again she reached over squeezing your hand, silently telling you that it was time to try and move on. Sighing loudly and brushing a hand through your hair you stood up smoothing the crinkled sheets of your bed out and gathering up the personal belongings scattered across the room, stuffing them into your purse before waving goodbye and heading off to your date.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Meanwhile, Steve was pacing the length of his hotel room, thoughts swarming his mind as he thought about what the fuck he was supposed to do now. Pretty soon you’d be going on your date with Julien and if Steve was the master of anything, it was catastrophising. In his mind he’d already married you off with kids and a white picket fence dream, while he remained alone and stuck to the shadows of his old ways, the chains of his past leaving him bound and unable to break the cycle. When in fact, the reality to everyone else involved in the whole situation, knew the date was nothing but a weak attempt to forget the infamous Harrington boy that held the only key to her heart.

Rebecca had long left the room, still angry from the night before where the two realised the harsh truths that spilled from their mouths, the venomous words slowly seeping into the fragile remains of their relationship before killing it for good. He should’ve felt guilty, perhaps hurt and embarrassed that he’d been so foolish and quick to believe the sweet words that fell from her mouth, coaxing him into an pathetically obedient state that he’d only just managed to escape. Yet he didn’t have it in him to feel anything other than joy at the realisation that maybe just maybe he had a chance with you.

He should’ve followed his heart from the very beginning, wasting so much time being afraid of losing what you had that you didn’t realise until it was almost lost. Confusion and doubt still weighed heavy in the air, uncertainty hitting him like his father used to, the pain giving him an unusually grounding feeling in this very moment.

Fuck what his parents wanted for him. Fuck what Rebecca wanted from him. It was his life and if he couldn’t even tell you, his best friend and love of his life the truth then what did that say about him? No. He needed to do this now, there was no time to dwell on the what ifs, especially not with losing you on the very line right now.

He loved you

He loves you.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

[a/n] I know its not super long but reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and encouraged, see you guys in the next part!

other works available here!

Taglist: @freezaz123

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drunkyriestuff · 2 years

Text

and this, my friends, is what bisexual panic looks like

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #"lord have mercy... we must stay focused brothers WE MUST STAY FOCUSED #but like #it could also be relief idk #but it was the first think that came to mind jdksjsjs #steddie #steve the hair harrington #steve the king harrington #king steve #eddie the freak munson #eddie the banished #st season 4 #st s4 #stranger things season 4 #st4 vol1 #st4 vol2

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bing-bang-bingo · 1 year

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your honor, i love him

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve #steddie #ST #st vol 2 #st vol 4 #steve the king harrington #steve the hair harrington #the hair #the babygirlification of steve harrington

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reanimated-alice · 1 year

Text

comforts of home | s. h.

A/N: this is the first work i've ever posted on here, so maybe be kind?

Warnings: none? just fluff? anyway, enjoy!

Steve Harrington x gender neutral!reader

♚

Steve had never really felt like he had a home before. Sure, he lived in a house, but there was a difference. His parents were never home enough to make it feel like the house was lived in. A home is meant to be a safe haven and comfort zone, right? Steve's home felt more like a trophy case, meant to be seen and not touched. And he was a trophy inside.

A small noise from you broke him out of the internal monologue he was going through. He looked down at you and smiled, running his fingers through your hair. You were everything to him. Wherever you were, Steve was home. You took away all the stress life had given him.

As you shifted in his lap, Steve couldn't help but remember the times he'd tried to protect you and keep you free of the knowledge of what was happening right under your feet. The Upside Down, the demogorgans, the Russians, all of it. But eventually, (or more specifically, when the disaster at Starcourt happened and Steve had climbed through your window afterward) the truth had to come out.

"Steve Harrington," you'd said as you'd held a wet rag to his face. "If you don't tell me what's actually going on, how you're actually getting hurt, I swear to God, you'll find my window locked from now on."

Despite the pain he'd been in, he'd smiled. God, you were stubborn. And brave. And also completely likely to get what you wanted. So, sighing, he'd told you.

You hadn't turned away from him, or cried, or denied everything he was saying. You'd paled a bit as the words sank in, but other than that, you hadn't said anything, just nodded and listened as you'd cleaned his cuts and scrapes.

"Steve?"

The quiet sound of his name broke him out of his reverie. He looked at his lap to see you rubbing your eyes, obviously just waking up from your nap.

"Hey, sleepy head," he crooned affectionately, running a hand though your hair. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," you replied and yawned. God, you were adorable. "Just missed you."

Steve's heart swelled and he couldn't help but tease you. "I've been here this whole time, goof." He poked your stomach and you hunched over, giggling.

You moved so you were sitting in his lap, your arms around his waist, and buried your face in his neck. He could feel your warm breath against his skin and the flutter of your eyelashes against his pulse as you fell victim to Morpheus once more.

"Yeah but..." you said quietly. "You were too far 'way."

Steve pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and laid it over the both of you.

"Well, I've got you now. And I always will." Steve kissed the side of your face. "I'll never be too far from you. I love you."

"Love you too," you replied in the sweetest, sleepiest voice he'd ever heard.

Steve thought he couldn't possibly love you anymore than he'd loved you then. In your arms, Steve was home.

In your arms, he was safe.

"You're my home," he whispered into your hair as you finally fell back asleep.

#steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #no use of y/n #x reader #my first fic #steve the babysitter #steve the mom #steve the king harrington #gender nuetral reader

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aurumbelis · 2 years

Text

𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏).

Part 2

Summary: Steve “The King” Harrington tries his own medicine as he meets Y/n L/n.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Flirty Fem! Reader.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Fluffy!afab! reader being extra bold, flirty, and extroverted.

A/n: so, enjoy this little idea that I had whilst listening to Feels by Calvin Harris. If you want the next parts please tell me, I’m just testing the waters with this one!

Wednesday the 5th of August 1987.

It was a hot Wednesday afternoon when Y/n entered Family Video, skin glistening with small beads of sweat as she walked all the way from her house to the movie store.

She wandered off to the small refrigerator full of beverages and snacks of all kinds, taking a big bottle of water, mouth, and throat dry as she puts it down on the counter, leaving it there and going off to wander through the different short aisles that made up the store.

She heard some noise at the back of the store, so she supposed that the workers would be restocking the back. She took her sweet time while she scanned rows and rows full of films, indecisive about which one she should get. Walking around to the second aisle she saw one of the workers stacking movies on the lower shelves.

Luscious brunette hair and broad shoulders made heat course through her body even if the shop had the AC set to at least 70 °F. He somehow noticed her presence behind him, quietly looking at how his arms and back moved as he stacked the different cases neatly on the shelf.

-Hey! Welcome to Family Video, sorry I didn’t notice you coming in, you were quite silent, huh? -he said dashing her with the prettiest smile she had seen for a while.

-If I knew you were here, I wouldn’t have been as quiet. -her tone was slightly suggestive as she was only testing the waters, and even if she was being completely forward, she did not want to come off too strong.

As he was stunned for a moment at her reply, she took the time to take in his features, delicate and handsome ones all topped off with what seemed to be a great personality, seeming as if the world catered to him, Steve as his name tag read, for her.

-So, do you need help with anything? -he tried his hardest not to stutter the words that were coming out of his mouth, as he was still shocked at the straightforward attitude that the girl in front of him displayed.

-Yes, some help would be fantastic! there is just so much to choose from, and I have literally no idea what to get. -her palms flattened over her skirt as she tried and put on her most angelic and innocent look.

His eyes were drawn to the movement of her hands going over her thighs trying his best to look up as fast as possible, seeing a special glint in the girl’s eyes.

-Soo… - he said indicating that he wanted to know and say her name.

-Y/n, that’s me. -she stood politely in front of him, waiting for further recommendations and conversation.

-I’m Steve, nice to meet you. -as he pronounced his name grin on his face, her eyes widened in recognition of the name, connecting the dots. At first, she did not realize that the man she was talking to and daring to try and flirt with was no other than Steve Harrington, the sensation between Hawkins’ girls due to his perfect Casanova reputation. -as I was saying, what do you feel like tonight? Crying, laughing, being entertained, scaring the shit out of yourself just for pure leisure? – his tone was just made to make someone smile, and he did that to her.

Y/n’s mind was already clouded with pure infatuation even if they had just begun to talk three minutes ago. The sweetness that his voice was coated with, as well as her soft gaze on her just wanting to be there to help her.

-Maybe I want to be entertained and laugh a little, you know just have a good time.

-Follow me then, I might have just the perfect recommendation. -he walked to the aisle she looked around before, kneeling down and taking a case and showing it to her. -Came out years ago but “The Life of Brian” is one of the funniest movies I have watched.

He came back up, towering again over her, closer to her with his hand moved forward handing her the movie. Y/n’s breath hitched as she noticed the closeness, being able to feel the warmth that Steve’s body radiated. Her hand took the case brushing her fingers with his on purpose, wanting him to feel what she was already feeling.

-If you’re always this efficient I might just come every day. -she smirked at him, eyebrows going upwards at her own comment.

Steve did not even know how to answer, and that was not a normal occurrence when the ladies ™ came down to Family Video in hopes to find a movie to watch. He usually had every answer and reply in the book, and right now it just felt as if Y/n tore all of its pages. So he just went straight to the cashier, body tense and mind racing at the fact that he was just so embarrassed about not being able to have the perfect comeback to impress the girl.

-Would that be all? -he said once he was already behind the counter, still red in the face voice breaking at the sight of the smile that still played on her lips even if he was not his best Steve right now.

-The water bottle and the movie, please and thank you.

-Both on the house. -he blurted out, wanting to finally make a good impression on her, one that would make her come back, not just to Family Video to return the movie that she was about to leave with, but to talk to him again as well.

-Seriously? -her head sideways as she stared at him in disbelief, also mixed with a bit of a funny look.

-Yes, we sometimes do it so that people will keep coming in, sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t, but we have to try y’know?

- It’s always good to try, as I for sure will return. -she smiled at him taking the articles now in a bag, from him, doing the same as before brushing their fingers together on purpose. -Hopefully you’ll be here whenever I come back? – she kept her touch lingering on him whilst she asked him, wanting him to just want more of her as she was about to leave.

-Yeah, totally. I have like the longest shifts on here, so the chance is I’ll be here next time you come over here. -he definitely felt how her fingers touched his delicately and subtly, and fuck did he want her touch. Her personality making him want time to just run fast to the time she comes by to return the movie.

-Great, see you, Steve. -she said smiling widely as she pronounced his name, waving goodbye bag in hand.

-See you! Have a good day Y/n! – he said a bit hushed as he did not know if you heard the last part as you had already closed the door behind you.

But you turned your face to him, smirking one last time, before continuing your way home, swaying your hips a bit more than usual as she knew that he was looking at her, which he certainly was, turning himself to the side to not to keep looking, but his brain made him look to her again, having one last look as she disappeared from his view, muttering a low “fuck” to himself.

Please, let me know if you would want to read what's next for theese two!

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rustedhearts · 1 year

Text

Got It Bad (Boxer!Steve x Librarian!Fem!reader)

summary: steve's sudden rise to pro-boxing fame comes with a change of scenery, and new (old) friends

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

♡ the rockstar!eddie setlist by @carolmunson ♡

warnings: a dash of angst, the return of our lovable rockstar (actually our first time meeting him in this au though), a smidge of smut, mention of alcohol, mention of drugs/addiction.

a/n: for reference, libby is 19, steve is 23, eddie is 25

february, 1990

Steve's rise to fame came faster than either of you could imagine.

The man himself seemed unprepared for how quickly endorsements flocked to him, willing to make up contracts and pay him a large chunk of change to promote them on his his first hop around the country. Steve signed a ten month contract at the end of December that went into affect New Year's day: his legal agreement to professionally beat the shit out of people on camera and make money doing it. His first televised fight was at the end of January, and he was a nervous wreck the whole month leading up to it.

When he inevitably won, he spent a little too much money on celebratory champagne and a hotel room, where you spent an entire weekend living a life you just couldn't get used to. Chocolate-covered strawberries, room service, sex all day, rose-petal baths, and everyone willing to make your stay as comfortable as possible. It didn't seem real, all this attention.

Now that he was making a name for himself—and making money he didn't know what to do with—he needed a manager. Big, his coach, made some calls and found Mikey Santorini, an LA based manager willing to take Steve on.

And for the promise you made to each other? Well, you didn't break it. Maybe that was the problem.

You told the library you'd be back soon, but you knew that was a lie. They made you a "bon voyage" basket, full of special edition covers of your favorite books and handmade bookmarks. You cried when your coworker, Lisa, presented it to you. The library wasn't just a job—it was your safe haven. You'd memorized every aisle, knew where every author lied. You had no idea when you'd see it again.

"We can visit a library in every city, I promise, baby," Steve told you when you came to his apartment sniffling.

You tried not to dwell on how easily he brushed aside the fact that you were putting your career on hold for him. You tried not to stop and think about that for too long, either. You loved Steve, didn't that matter more?

On the first of February, you said goodbye to your family.

Steve carried your luggage down the stairs from your bedroom. Your parents and younger brother, Nick, lined up near the front door, watching silently as he came in and out. Every time he hurried down the snow-coated front steps, your bedroom looked a little emptier.

When the last of it was in Steve's hands, you trudged down after him, heart tugging at the sight of your family all huddled together. Your mother wasn't doing much to conceal her tears, though your father seemed to be doing his best to console her. Nick looked unimpressed, a bored expression plastered across his chubby cheeks—but you knew him better than that, and those big eyes said it all. He was just as sad as you were to say goodbye.

Steve stopped near the front door, turning to flash you a small smile. "I'll give you a minute, okay?"

You nodded, accepting his gentle peck on the mouth. You watched him go, pulling the screen door closed behind him to bring warmth back to the house. A black SUV sat on the curb, supervised by Big in the driver seat. You only had a few hours before you had to be on the road. It would take all day to drive to California from here.

Rubbing your slick palms on your denim thighs, you turned to face your family.

"Um, so...this is it, I guess."

Your mother sniffled, wiping at her glistening cheeks. Her wedding ring glistened in the morning light. When she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around you, your heart burst. She smelled just how she always did, her perfume sweet and soothing, her hair drenched in the same hairspray she'd been using since you were a girl. Her sweater was soft, her skin warm, and you could feel the cool metal of the necklace she never took off pressing against your neck.

"I can't believe my baby girl is leaving," she hiccuped.

Your father reached forward and pinched the back of your mother's sweater, gently guiding her away from you. Tears pooled in your eyes and lodged in your throat, but you swallowed them down as your father opened his arms. You knew if you cried, so would your father, and then they'd never let you leave. But it suddenly felt so real, this departure.

"Call us every day, okay, pumpkin?" Your father muttered against the top of your hair.

You nodded, pressing your cheek to his chest, squeezing your arms tight around his stomach. He rubbed your back for a moment before letting go with a kiss to the head. You knew it was for his own good that he didn't hold on for too long.

You turned to Nick with a grin, punching his arm as hard as you could. He scowled, rubbing at it with a yelp.

"Gonna miss me, squirt?"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."

You swallowed hard, chest growing tighter by the second. He was only a freshman in high school, and you grew up looking forward to helping him through it. Now, you wouldn't be here to see what sort of shit he got into, or bail him out of any trouble he'd inevitably get roped into. You'd miss his first homecoming, his first football game, his first girlfriend.

"I'll miss you," you admitted.

Nick's eyes cast down at his socked feet, arms dropping to his sides. He balled his hands into fists, and you knew he was inches away from tears.

"Whatever. Don't die, I guess."

You giggled. "Okay."

"Hey." Steve came rushing back into the house, cheeks pink from the wind, your luggage shoved into the trunk of the SUV. "Ready to go?"

You nodded, flashing your family another smile. "I guess I'll see you guys soon. I'll call the minute we get there. Steve's fight is on channel three, you can watch it!"

Steve cocked a sheepish grin, crossing his arms over his chest. Your mother barely glanced at him, reaching out to give you one last firm squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. You didn't even mind the glossy lip print she left in her wake.

Your father reached out and clasped Steve on the shoulder.

"You take good care of my girl, you hear me? If I find out anything happened to her, I swear to fucking god—"

"—Dad!"

Steve remained steadily stoic under your father's disapproving frown and sharp glare. "I understand, sir. I'd never let anything happen to her, I swear."

Your father nodded curtly before releasing Steve. Steve's hand instantly sought the small of your back, pulling you into him gently. You waved at your family, blowing your mother a kiss.

"Bye, I love you guys."

On your way down the street, you watched your mother cry in the front window, and your father wrap his arms around her.

♡ ♡

You had three days before the fight, though they all seemed jam-packed with events and training. You barely had a second to unpack your clothes at the hotel before you were being hauled off to another sweaty, humid gym.

But on the second day, Steve woke up early and rolled toward your side of the bed, smacking kisses all over your bare neck. You squirmed in your sleep, waking with a gasp when his teeth sank into your throat.

"Steve," you squeaked, sighing contentedly when he tugged you flush against his bare chest.

"Morning, my angel," he murmured into your bare skin.

Half-asleep and bleary, a hum rumbled through your throat, hand rising to bat around for Steve's fluffy hair. When you found it, you pushed your fingers through the heap of it, stroking for your own comfort. Steve nuzzled further into your neck, unable to control himself from pressing another eager kiss to the underside of the jaw. You smelled so good in the morning, and you skin was always so warm and soft.

"Morning, Stevie."

Your voice sent a jolt through his chest. He smiled to himself, tightening his arms around your waist. He couldn't believe this was his life.

"Got a call from an old buddy ," he announced, playing with the satin of your sleep tank. "He lives in California now, said he wants to get together and catch up. Invited us to his band practice today."

You hummed, rubbing at your eyes. You still weren't used to sleeping anywhere other than Steve's lumpy mattress at his old apartment, or the same bed you'd been sleeping in since you were young. Sleep didn't come easy away from home.

"He's in a band?" A yawn split your mouth open. You tossed around a moment, still caged in Steve's arms, until you were on your back.

You pried your eyes open and smiled at Steve, reaching up to scratch at the stubble on his jaw with your nails. He eased into it like a cat. He forced his eyes open, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze down at you. Fondness drenched his features, eyes twinkling with a look only you were lucky enough to see. He swept two fingers across your forehead to brush your hair out of your eyes, letting them drag down your cheek gently.

"Yep, ever since Hawkins days."

Your brows jumped. "Oh, he's from Hawkins, too?"

Steve pinched your chin between his thumb and knuckle, tipping your head up to bare your mouth to him.

"Yep." He bent and pressed your mouths together. "Went..." Another kiss, head tipping to explore different angles of your mouth. "...to high school..." He flicked his tongue along your bottom lip and nipped at it. "...together."

You squirmed on the mattress below him, cheeks warming and thighs squeezing together. Your fingers dug into his bulging biceps with need as he situated himself over you. Your thighs stung with the stretch needed to accommodate him.

"Can't wait to meet him."

Steve lowered his pelvis to press flush against yours, snatching a sharp gasp from your throat. His erection throbbed against your panties, satin sleep shorts abandoned on the floor from last night. He smirked at the little sound, running the tip of his nose along your collarbones, blowing hot air across your tender morning skin. He had you shivering like the cold and he'd barely even touched you.

"Mhm, later. Right now, I gotta take care a' my girl."

He disappeared beneath the covers, wedged between your legs thrown over his shoulders. He spent thirty minutes suffocating between them just to hear you whine and cry, and didn't let up until your face was burning red.

♡ ♡

After three hours in the gym and a quick shower, you climbed into the SUV with Steve to meet his friend. It was much warmer here in California—you weren't used to having bare shoulders and exposed legs in February. You wore one of Steve's favorite dresses, a piece from your mother's closet that she gifted to you when she could no longer fit into it. Steve said it made you look like "one of those disco girls, but in a really hot way."

You expected to arrive at a shabby house with a garage full of instruments, so all you could do was frown in confusion when Steve pulled against the curb of The Troubadour.

"Um...Steve?"

Steve popped the glovebox, rifling through the mess of papers and cassettes before pulling out his sunglasses. He shoved them over his eyes and slammed it closed. "Huh?"

You were slow to take your seatbelt off, still glancing through the window with a pout. "What band did you say your friend was in?"

Steve hopped out of the car, and you instantly pulled the visor down to check your lipstick and the state of your hair before he reached your side. When he helped you out of the car, he was quick to wrap his arm around your shoulders and guide you toward the door, though he hadn't answered your question.

Inside, any glimpse of the California sunlight disappeared into darkness. The stage was massive, much too big for a small time band, and you found your eyes bouncing around frantically toward each band poster on the wall for some sort of hint. Steve seemed to know exactly where he was going, though, and guided you toward a door just off the stage.

The plucky twang of guitar strings and the rowdy chorus of male laughter echoed from a room down the hall. Your nerves suddenly felt cold. This was a big time band, and you were just some small town girl.

Sunglasses and brown bomber jacket on, Steve stomped down the hall with you under his arm like he'd been here all his life. You admired that air of confidence and ease.

Steve shoved the door at the end of the hall open, revealing a small cinderblock room with a sectional, tables of alcohol and food wrappers, and a gaggle of men in black leather.

Corroded Coffin.

"Holy shi—"

"Harrington! You made it, man."

Eddie Munson, frontman for Corroded Coffin, came staggering toward Steve with his arms out. Steve kept one around you as he clasped Eddie on the back; two large, leather-padded smacks rang through the room. Your cheeks suddenly felt very warm and swollen. You glanced past Eddie toward the rest of the band, talking amongst themselves and nursing beer. They all glistened with a sheen of sweat, and the room reeked with a haze of alcohol and cigarettes.

You never thought you'd see them outside of the poster on your closet door or the album on your bookshelf.

"And who's this cutie?"

You turned, feeling the heat of the sun gather in your face at the sight of two black eyes steadied on you. Eddie's hair was as large and wild as ever, eyes rimmed with smudged eyeliner, a heavy silver chain around his neck, another one clinking on the low belt loop of his jeans when he crossed his arms and smirked at you. You swallowed, pressing closer to Steve.

"This is my girl, Libby. Libby, this is—"

"—I know who you are," you squeaked. You seemed to be growing hotter by the second, though that seemed out of the realm of possibility.

Eddie's brows shot up, and he tossed a quick glance toward Steve. "That so? Harrington, you didn't tell me you caught yourself a little metalhead."

Steve pushed his glasses to the top of his head, sliding his hand down to your waist. "News to me, Munson."

To ease the sudden stiffness between the two hulking men, you shot your hand out toward Eddie with a saccharine smile. "Nice to meet you."

Eddie's laughter made you start to pull back, but he suddenly bent at the waist and accepted your hand, shaking it with a gentle bow. "And you, sweetheart. C'mon, take a seat. I wanna hear all about this fight, Harrington."

Steve pulled you onto his lap when he sank down on the leather sectional, and you were slightly grateful for it after seeing the sight of those sticky cushions. His big hands splayed across your bare thighs, pulling the hem of your dress down a little further.

Eddie sat across from you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, ringed hands reaching toward a bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor. He pulled the top and poured a stream into his mouth. You inwardly winced when he gulped it down like water, wiping his shiny mouth with the back of his palm.

Eddie held the bottle out, but Steve waved his hand dismissively. Eddie angled the top of the bottle toward you, brows raised. Steve's hand tightened on your thigh, and you smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, no thank you."

If Eddie thought you were lame for denying the alcohol, he didn't show it. Instead, he took another swig and set the bottle on the floor.

"So," he mused, easing back on the sofa, "how'd you two meet?"

Steve drummed his fingers on your thigh, making small tapping sounds, and you slid your fingers through his to interlock them.

"At a party," Steve replied.

Eddie stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. The band lingered in the corner, chatting amongst themselves, though curiously glancing at the pair of you on the sofa. You averted your gaze when the one with shaggy hair dropped his eye in a wink, cheeks burning. If Steve had seen, you knew he would've tossed you aside and gotten his knuckles bloody in a heartbeat.

"Oh! Still the life of the party, Harrington?" Eddie snickered.

You giggled, but Steve only mustered a combination of a smirk and a scowl. "She's from Hawkins, too."

Eddie's eyes rounded with delight, plump lips parting with genuine surprise. He turned to you, and you squished a little closer to Steve, who tapped the side of your thigh with his open palm. "Get my lighter for me, baby?"

You nodded, dipping your hand into the inner pocket of his jacket to fish out the silver zippo. In that time, he'd swiped a cigarette from the table in a random pack, and you brought the lighter to his mouth where the cigarette waited.

"If you're from Hawkins, how come I don't remember you?" Eddie inquired, watching the interaction with amusement.

You snapped the lighter shut and dropped it back into Steve's pocket, watching him inhale a deep drag before blowing it away toward the door. The stench of tobacco used to make you sick, but now it smelled like Steve.

You turned to Eddie and grinned, full-cheeked and sweet. "Oh, you were already in the band by the time I got to high school, and Steve had graduated."

Eddie's smile slipped, eyes sliding to Steve beside you with a slow cock of his head. You tried not to let your smile mimic Eddie's—of disappointment and dismay—and tapped Steve's shoulder.

"I'll be right back."

You placed your heels on the floor to push off and stand up, but Steve tugged you back gently by the arm, cigarette propped in the corner of his mouth. Brows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown, he shook his head.

"Where y' goin', angel?"

You giggled nervously, the back of your neck gathering sweat. "Just to the bathroom, Stevie."

Eddie snickered, sliding a cigarette out of the pack on the table. He brought it to his mouth with his eyes trained solely on the two of you. Steve released your arm and you stood to your feet, bending to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Be right back, promise," you cooed.

You were a few steps from the door when you heard Eddie chuckle. "Yeah, Stevie, she promises."

You skittered down the hall toward the ladies' room, closing the door and sliding the lock over.

While you were gone, Eddie lit his cigarette and leaned forward again, hunched over his lap toward Steve.

"Harrington, how the fuck old is this girl?" His voice was low and grumbly.

Steve rolled his eyes, plucking his sunglasses from the crown of his head to tuck them into his jacket. "She's nineteen, Munson, lay the fuck off."

Eddie chuckled, spluttering clouds of smoke into the air.

"Harrington, be honest with me, did you 'nap her?"

Steve shook his head, tonguing away a sideways grin. It'd been a long time since he'd seen Eddie. Though they went to high school together, they never ran in the same crowds. It wasn't until Steve graduated that he met Eddie at a party, woozy out on coke and Jack with a girl under each arm. At first, they just nodded to each other at parties. But when they got to talking, they realized they could make each other laugh, and bonded over their mutual love for women. That was all it took for a friendship to form.

It seemed Eddie had fallen drunk to the rock and roll life. Steve eyed the end of a tied baggie hanging out of Eddie's jacket wearily. He'd been here with his friend before.

"Nah, man, she uh...she's really great," Steve admitted, trying not to let it show just how much he truly ached for you.

"God, she must be. Callin' you Stevie, laying all over your lap. You got it bad, Harrington," Eddie teased in a musical tone.

Steve tapped his ashes toward the floor, shooting Eddie a glare.

"Not bad enough to stop me kickin' your ass."

Eddie's hands flew up with a giggle. "Oh-ho-ho. C'mon, lemme see those jabs, King Steve. I heard you're taking bodies in the ring."

Eddie leaned over the table, a quick fist appearing to shoot out and punch Steve's arm. Steve quickly retaliated, smacking Eddie upside the head in a much more humiliating act that had Eddie's cheeks burning pink.

The door chittered on its hinges, and all heads turned to watch you quietly tiptoe in. You kept your eyes on the floor the whole brisk journey toward Steve, taking tiny but quick steps. You instantly slid back into his lap, comforted by the weight of his arm around your waist, the callused feel of his hand on your thigh.

Eddie leaned back into the sofa again, all wide shoulders and black hair. He hollowed his cheeks around his cigarette and pulled at his jacket until his arms were free of it, revealing two ivory biceps cut with lean muscle. You instantly burned at the sight of them, scrawled with tattoos, and placed your eyes on your lap.

"So, what d' you do, sweet thing? You in college?" Eddie asked, words escaping him with a coil of smoke.

You glanced at Steve, shaking your head in response. Steve was as stoically blank as ever, and you weren't sure if Eddie's use of pet names bothered him or not.

"Um, no, I'm a librarian—"

"—ooh," Eddie interrupted the moment your occupation left your mouth, lips pouted in an 'o' shape, brows furrowed and eyes scrunched, "sexy."

Steve's fingers dug into your thigh, his spare hand ripping the cigarette from his mouth. You barely had a moment to turn your head and clock the angled position of his brows, the crease in his forehead, before he was pointing his cigarette at Eddie.

"Munson." The single utterance was sharp with warning.

The room went quiet for a split second. You brought your hand to the back of Steve's neck, playing with the ends of his hair, and Eddie's face slowly relaxed into another wide, dimpled smile. His hands rose again, though this time in surrender.

The men shared a look of understanding that went unseen by you. But Steve could see it, the appreciative cock of Eddie's head, the small 'I'm happy for you' coded in the way he nodded. They both knew, deep down, that all Steve ever wanted was to know he could be loved.

"So," Eddie cleared his throat, clasping his hands together with a sharp smack, "you guys stickin' around for the show tonight?"

You visibly perked up, grin returning with a twitch of your lips. Before Steve could even dismiss the idea, you pushed your fingers through his hair and turned to Eddie.

"I'd love to!"

Eddie mirrored your grin, his all dimples and charm, and turned his attention to your scowling boyfriend. Only Steve could see through his friendly joy, and note the mocking amusement that lingered beneath.

"She'd love to, Harrington," Eddie cooed.

Cheeks burning, you peered down at Steve with big, round eyes. "It'll be fun, Steve. Beats being cooped up in that hotel room all night."

You stroked the back of his head languidly, feathering his satin locks between your fingers. You could see the gears turning in his head, thinking over your request. His fingers drummed on your thigh again, arm pressing into your spine. Steve hated saying no to you, but he wasn't sure he could handle a crowded club full of screeching guitars and girls too young to be throwing bras and panties at Eddie.

"Ah, nobody wants that! Come on, Harrington, your girl wants to rock!" Eddie reached out and slapped Steve's knee with the back of his hand.

Steve made a "psh" sound, pinching the bridge of his nose. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, sweet and scented of vanilla flavored lipgloss, and Steve's resolve fizzled into nothing.

"Fuck—fine, whatever," he grumbled.

That earned him a soft squeal of excitement from you, and his face scrunched when you grabbed it with both hands to plant a sticky kiss on his mouth. Eddie grinned at it, the way you could squish Steve's cheeks together and smear pink glitter across his face without being reprimanded for it. It was the clear the hulking athlete had it bad for you.

As Steve gently pulled your hands away, the trill of a phone broke through the muffled chatter and low strum of guitars in the dressing room. Before either of you could stop to wonder where it was coming from, Eddie leapt from the couch. He toppled over bottles on the floor, half tripping on the end of the coffee table on his way to the phone hanging on the wall.

"Hey gorgeous," he gasped into the receiver, slamming himself against the wall, out of breath and eager.

The rest of the band assumed Eddie's side of the sectional, and it was the shaggy blond, Gareth, that leaned forward and grinned. "That's gotta be Rink."

You pulled your brows together. "Rink?"

"Stella? Stella Rink? His girlfriend," Gareth explained.

Your head snapped over to Steve, eyes blown wide. "Stella Rink? Eddie's dating Stella Rink?"

Steve shrugged, pulling the hem of your dress down again. He glared toward the band, whose eyes were skimming over the shape of you.

"Dunno who that is, angel."

You cocked your head at Steve, eyes rolling. "We just saw one of her movies last week. She was the main character, Steve, the really pretty one."

Steve let his head fall back against the leather couch cushions, fixing you with an unamused look.

"Now, why would I be lookin' at another girl when I got you, hmm?"

Your eyes rolled again on their own, though your cheeks grew sore from your giddy smile. Steve ate it up, wrapping a hand around the underside of your jaw to pull you down and attach your mouths together. The band of men on the other couch became forgotten at the taste of foreign cigarettes on his mouth, the stiffness of his lap beneath you.

"You're so full of shit," you giggled against the swipe of his tongue.

Steve nipped at your bottom lip and shrugged. "S' the truth. Can't deny the truth, baby."

The phone returned to the cradle on the wall with a bell's chime, and you pulled away from Steve just in time to see Eddie trudging back. Steve brought his arm up to rest around your shoulders, yanking you down until your head knocked into his.

"How's America's sweetheart, Munson?" Gareth snickered, watching Eddie pout.

"Too busy," the rockstar huffed.

You gnawed on your lip a moment, cheeks warm again. "So, you're really dating Stella Rink?"

Eddie spun to face you with such fervor that you recoiled into Steve, and his hand tightened on your thigh to pull you closer.

"Dating her? Honey, that's my wife."

Confusion twisted on your face, but the band just snickered at Eddie's whole-hearted declaration.

"They've been dating for, like, three months," Jeff, the bassist, chuckled.

Eddie waved his hands, brushing off the band's dismissal. He perched on the arm of the couch on the other side of Steve, all pale limbs and black attire. He placed one foot on the cushion next to Steve and bent over his knee, speaking to the pair of you like telling a secret.

"Well, when you know, you know. Right, Harrington?"

At this angle, Steve got a better look at the baggie in Eddie's pocket—a familiar white powder coated the plastic. Steve tore his eyes slowly away from the baggie and met Eddie's gaze, making sure the shaggy-haired man knew what Steve had been looking at.

Eddie swallowed, smile slipping, but Steve's eyes were steadily narrowed with suspicious warning.

"Right," Steve agreed.

They continued to stare at each other—Steve unnervingly calm and Eddie a little squirmy—while you murmured amongst the band members about Stella and Eddie, and how bloody Steve's fights usually got. They were surprisingly curious about how violent boxing could get.

But Steve put an end to the conversation with a gentle tap to your thigh, pushing off the back of the couch to sit up and guide you with him.

"C'mon, baby, you wanna go eat?"

The question seemed rhetorical, the both of you already on your feet and your hand grasped tightly in Steve's before you could even excuse yourself from the band conversation. You waved goodbye to them, pairing it with a cute, rosy-cheeked smile that made them swoon.

"See you guys tonight, right?" Eddie asked, following the pair of you toward the door. "And we should get together again sometime, Harrington. It's been a while."

A big, ringed hand clasped down on Steve's shoulder, and the boxer stopped short in the doorway to turn to his friend. You stopped with him, leaning into his side. For a moment, you were certain they'd have another vague and ominous staring match. But then Steve leaned forward, jerked his chin toward Eddie's legs, and blinked blankly at Eddie.

"You watchin' that?"

Eddie blinked back, his scoff a secondary, delayed reaction yanked from him by disbelief. He glanced at you for a moment, uncertain how much he wanted to say in front of you, and placed his hand on the door.

"I got it covered, Harrington, but thanks."

His tone was sharp but not cruel, and it took you a moment to even pick up on the underlying stiffness between the two men. Clearly, there was something wrong, but you just couldn't figure out what. Did Eddie have an accident, were his legs okay? The dimpled grin he flashed Steve seemed irritated.

Steve clapped Eddie on the arm: a friendly, smidge-too-hard pat. "Alright, man. Catch you guys tonight, gotta go get some earplugs."

The irritation was slow to melt from Eddie's smile, but he chuckled all the same. You cleared your throat, raising your hand in a tiny wave toward Eddie.

"Bye, Eddie, it was nice to meet you."

Eddie bent at the waist again in another bow, and you couldn't help but giggle dazedly. "And you. See you tonight, sweetheart."

♡ ♡

At dinner, Steve smoked another cigarette on the patio of a Mexican restaurant, sunglasses shielding him from the evening sun. He hadn't said much since you left Troubadour, and you could only sip your lemonade for so long in silence before you huffed.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you mad we're going to the concert tonight, because we don't have to if you really don't want to."

Steve tapped his cigarette over the pavement, head shaking. "Nah, angel, s' not it."

You frowned, reaching over to grab his hand on the table. His watch knocked on the white cloth, and you traced your finger over the leather band.

"Then what is it?"

Steve took a drag of the cigarette and blew a thin stream of smoke toward the street.

"Nothin', baby. Just a headache."

You nodded, flashing a tight-lipped smile. You dipped into your purse on the chair beside you, fishing out the metal pill container you always carried on hand. You swiped two pain pills for him and placed them beside his Coke. Steve followed your movements, a huff of laughter shooting through his nose. He placed his cigarette in his mouth, refusing to drop your hand, and collected them in his hand.

"Thanks, angel."

You beamed. "Of course, Stevie. Now come on, I wanna go to the hotel and get ready. I can't believe I'm finally seeing Corroded Coffin live."

Steve stamped out his cigarette and plopped the pills in his mouth. He watched you, unable to contain your ecstatic smile, though you tried by pursing your lips and gazing down at your plate. He'd been watching you since you sat down—he watched you gaze around Sunset Strip like you were in another world, wide-eyed and curious.

He said nothing of Eddie's drug habit, or his mother's when he was a child that made him weary around Eddie because of it. Steve said nothing about hearing you sniffle in the bathroom at one a.m because you tried calling your parents and they didn't answer, and you missed them so bad that you seemed off in your own world ever since you got here.

Because right now, you were happy. And that's all that mattered to Steve.

"Let's go, baby."

♡ ♡

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therosebunpost · 1 year

Text

~Regret~

Steve Harrington x Disabled!Disfigured!Fem!Reader

Steve has a lot of regrets involving who he was back in High-School. Including the way he left things with you. Will a last ditch decision to see you before he saves the world be enough to salvage the broken pieces?

Warnings: Descriptions of Steve’s injuries and pain, blood, general angst. Reader is inclusive as possible, but is written to have a facial difference/is disfigured. (Picture used is not intended to be Reader’s literal features, but instead the hiding of her face as a metaphor.)

Beta read by my two buddies @marigoldsandbuttercups and @paladinshenanigan-blog thank you so much guys!! <3

—…—…——…—…——…—…——…—…——…—…——…—…——…—…—

You hear a knock on the front door. It’s 10pm, and you can’t sleep. You were stuck in front of the radio, listening to the local news broadcasting the death of another Hawkin’s High Student.

You couldn’t quite wrap your head around it. Eddie, sweet, dorky Eddie Munson murdered three people? It just didn’t make sense. Sure, you weren’t incredibly close to the man, but he was one of the people who accepted you. You knew that whole Cult thing was bullshit, you knew he didn’t fight unless he had too, so it just…didn’t make sense.

Not that it mattered, in the end. Hold up in your home with your parents asleep upstairs, you were left worrying but safe.

Right?

Another knock on the door. You aren’t expecting anyone, but in the end you go to it. You lean up to peer through the hole in the door, which results in the shock of your life as you fling the door open.

“Steve?! What are you doing doing here? The curfew! Oh my god what happened to you-“

Steve wasn’t surprised by your lack of enthusiasm. Even if it made his chest ache. He smiles regardless, fingers running through his hair. “Hey, I-“ But before he can speak, he feels your hand take his and pull him inside.

“Hey? You come here unannounced, bleeding and you just say hey?” You hiss at him, brows furrowed in anger as you tug him into the kitchen. You make him sit, only pausing at his groan of pain. For a moment your face softens, worry filling your eyes.

“Let me grab some supplies. Stay, okay?”

You rush out the door before he can say anything, his hands carding through his hair. Doing this now was a bad idea. They didn’t exactly have time for this, but it was literally now or never.

You come back with a large box of different supplies. Steve watches as you root through it, his eyes shifting over the familiar items. Things he hasn’t seen for a while but he remembers.

“I thought…when you got it out, you were gonna burn this stuff?” He asks without really thinking, reaching out to pick up a Trach tie that’s still in its package.

Gazing up at him, a wash of surprise falls over your body. “I just…never got around to it. Plus, I guess…I was a little more sentimental than I realized.” Picking up a tracheostomy tube, you let your finger brush over the package before dropping it and shoving the box aside. “What..what the hell happened Steve?”

“New Report coming in from the local police. Eddie Munson has still not been found. Towns folk are strongly encouraged to remain inside until the suspect has been found and apprehended.”

You flick your eyes up from the gauze in your hands, then over to Steve.

“It’s not him.”

“What?”

“Eddie, he didn’t- He’s not responsible for this, or the killings. That’s what I came here to tell you.”

You blink owlishly at him before looking down and slowly pulling his dressings from his wound. It wasn’t gauze you realize, but instead a piece of sweater. You have to keep yourself from throwing up at the absolute horror underneath. His stomach was torn and clawed at. Dried blood caked his tan skin, making things look ghastly under the kitchen lights.

“Steve, you need to go to the hospital, this, I can’t treat this-“

“I didn’t ask you-“ He stops himself, softly murmuring your name before reaching out to grab a clean gauze roll, “I just want to talk. Please, I don’t have a lot of time here.” He sits up with a wince, swallowing down the pain to start wrapping the wound, but stops when you grab at his wrist.

“You can’t either! You need to disinfect it man, here.” You wave his hands away in favor of taking over, soon pressing a alcohol soaked cloth against it. You kneel down in order to reach the wounds better. His breath hitches, hand coming out to grab your bicep as his eyes squeeze shut. He mumbled your name, almost pleading. You finally pause, swallowing thickly.

“Talk to me Steve, just focus on that, okay?” You shift your voice into something softer. You place a hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers until he finally eases up so that you can clean him.

It hurts. It hurts so much, but Steve couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He grips the dining room table until his knuckles turn white, head tipping back in pain as the alcoholic rag brushes against his skin.

“I….it’s a lot to explain. I don’t understand half of it myself, but I knew…I knew I had to see you. I had to talk to you before-shit-shit went down.” He blinks away tears, shuddering as rolls of pain wash over his already exhausted body. “There’s…something wrong with this place, this town.”

“Tell me about it.”

He chuckles a little at the quip, but it makes him wince all over again. “Right? Shocker. But no, there’s…there’s something out there. Murdering people, and Eddie’s just caught in the crossfire.”

He can see the way your face is twisting in confusion. He can barely believe it so it’s no wonder you’re struggling. He shifts a bit, trying his best to stop himself from shying away from the rag. “And, well, we’re going to stop it. I’m going to stop it.”

That gets you to look at him, and Steve wonders how he’s gone so long without seeing your face. How he managed to keep himself from seeking out your eyes or hearing your voice.

Steve’s eyes were clear, though scrunched with pain. He was speaking clearly through clenched teeth, and he seemed completely sober. Which only confused you further. “Steve, you…you need to let the police handle this. I’m glad that you think it’s not Eddie, I don’t either, but you can’t go vigilanting around the place. You aren’t fucking Spiderman.”

The two of you pause at your words, your cheeks flushed pink. You pull away, dropping the bloodied rag in the sink before grabbing the gauze to staunch the blood that was quickly seeping from the claw marks. Claw marks?

“I still have the costume, so..” Steve shoots back, his head clearing as the pain dulls for a bit. His head leaning to the side as he watches you slowly dress the wound. “Just don’t go getting scooped up by any big gorillas, okay miss Ann Darrow? I finally watched King Kong and one huge monster is more than I can handle.”

Despite yourself, you do snort a little. Securing the gauze with tape, you stare at him for a moment. “So, what, you’re just going to go out and hunt a serial killer?”

“…Something like that.”

“Steve, that’s insane. Why? How? And why, why tell me this?”

“Because I’m sorry.”

Steve bit his lip, the breath leaving his nose in a rush as he let the words hang in the air. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m so fucking sorry, and I should have said that to you. I wanted to for so long, but…I'm such a coward.”

He leans forward despite the pain, hands reaching out to hold your own. “I never should have just let Tommy and Carol say that shit about you. I shouldn’t have pretended that I never went to the camp. Those summers were some of the best years of my life.”

You’re stunned still, hands limp in his. “Steve, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scared too, honey.”

He smiles, but it’s only half hearted. “Terrified, in fact. You’d think getting attacked by a…demo…bat would be scarier than this but no.”

You don’t even try, and understand what that means. Just the things that do, like Steve apologizing.

“Because…being your friend was the best thing that happened to me, the best thing and I fucked that up.”

There’s an ache in your heart at those words. A dual attack of happiness and dread. Shifting on your knees, you look away from Steve’s sweet brown eyes. Your feelings are mixing and shifting, but that anger remains. That bitterness. “You did.” It hurt to say, but it was the truth. Still, you let your shoulders sag the fight leaves as soon as it came.

“I know you probably don’t forgive me.” Steve admits, shoulders sagging as he looks off in the distance. “I hurt you. I hurt so many people. I’m trying to be better, but…I don’t expect you to forgive me. I was an asshole.”

Sitting back on your legs, you tug the box close and drop the gauze in. Your hand carding through the multitudes of medical supplies. A reminder of everything you’ve gone through. Everything Steve’s been with you for.

He gently lays the trach tie back in the box, head leaning in his palm as he sits there and breathes. He’s clammy, and flushed. Dark circles under his eyes that speak of stress. Just what happened to that boy you knew?

“Those summers were my favorite too.” You admit, slowly looking up at him. “…You really kept your costume?” You can’t help but smile at the memory. Your craniofacial camp often had costume nights. “I still can’t believe you went with Spiderman. It was a jungle theme, Steve.”

Steve grins, all boyish and confident. “Spiders are in the jungle. Besides, he’s your favorite right? I knew you’d get a kick out of it. The other counselors did too.” There’s a moment where what he said doesn’t catch-up with him right away. You only know it does because his cheeks have a little more color in them now. You have to admit, your own were pretty warm too.

“You….wore that for me? Really? But, why? You had been avoiding me all week. It was our last year there, and you made it pretty obvious that you were glad about it. Then you ditched the party halfway just to go spend time with Tommy and Carol.”

You didn’t want to question it, but Steve seemed to have a way of toying with your heart. He distanced himself from you, only to admit he went as your favorite superhero? It was like he enjoyed seeing how far he could string you along before dropping the line. All the while expecting you to sit, and wait for him to acknowledge you. That wasn’t always the case, but highschool had changed him.

“I did, I did do it for you.” Steve admits, the truth pouring out of him now that he was on a roll. “It was stupid, I was stupid.” His leg bounced in his chair as he looked down at the tiles. Blood droplets stark against the white. “When I heard there was a party, a big party, I knew it’d be weird if I wasn’t there. So, I just snuck out. I didn’t tell anyone because-“

“You didn’t want people to know you were a camp counselor for a bunch of disabled kids?”

He winces, this time not from his injuries. “That sounds awful out loud.”

You hum in agreement, but it’s not unkind. Just facts.

“Before I knew about the party, I got the costume.” He admits, sighing deeply. “I got it, knowing it was our last year and I wanted to surprise you, you know? I had every intention, but…I fucked it up.”

He finally rises from the chair, his hand resting on the table in an effort to keep himself upright. “You don’t have to forgive me. I’m not kidding about that.” He sways, and you’re quick to hop up and hold him upright.

He’s solid against your body. Grown up and responsible, but maybe still that sweet boy you used to know when you were younger. The kid that sat with you when you couldn’t swim in the lake due to your breathing tube. The one who made an effort to understand the kids around him who were so much different then him. The one boy you would have given your heart to in a second if he asked, even now.

“Honey, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

He was not fine, and that freaked you out. “Steve please, you need a hospital. I can take you there-“

“You need to stay inside okay? Please, I can’t let him find you. Fuck, wait, where’s your Walkman?”

Before you can even say anything he’s breaking away from you and hurrying up the steps. You follow, cursing him and the fact that you can’t yell at him right now.

He’s standing in your room, a sight you never would have expected. You two mainly interacted at camp, given you had to drive a while to even get there. The fact that Steve even made the drive in his condition baffled you.

He’s fiddling through your cassettes, an invasion of privacy you’d usually berate anyone else for.

“Steve, please! You’re really freaking me out.”

The words barely registered in his mind as he searched for the cassette. It had to be here, right? Unless.. He turns, startling you. The way you back away from him hurts, but he can’t focus on that right now. He says your name, all smooth and calm as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“Where’s your Walkman?”

Another expression twist. Irritation scrunches up your features, and if this was any other time he would have said it was cute. Maybe give into these feelings and cup your face in his hands in an effort to sooth away those worried lines.

Instead he watches as you march over to your dresser and pluck the set up from its place. You shove it at him, mouth opening to throw another question his way but he beats you to it.

“I want you to keep this with you. Okay?” He opens the player, plucking the familiar cassette from its spot. “Music stops him from getting you, so keep this playing. You got extra batteries? I got some in the car-“

“Steve, stop it!”

You explode, only to stop as you look over to where your parents bedroom was. There’s an audible thump, and then rush of feet as your mother heads for the door. She calls your name, sleepy voice tinged with panic. “What’s wrong? Sweetheart??”

Steve sees the way you eye him, and he knows that he can’t get caught by your parents like this. Injured, spouting out nonsense about killers and music while inside their daughter’s bedroom. He musters up his best pleading look, the same one that’s gotten him out of trouble before. He knows your frustrated, but he’s losing time as it was.

It works, though Steve can guess that you wish it wouldn’t. “Just…just a nightmare mom! I’m fine, okay?”

“I knew letting you stay up to listen to that radio was a bad idea. I’m sure Steve is going to be just fine, okay?”

You tense, eyes wide. You can’t look at him, instead staring at your feet like they were the most fascinating thing ever. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, he’s probably…just fine.”

Your mom soon shuffles back to her room, leaving the two of you to stand there in silence. It’s heavy, but Steve can’t help but smile. “You were staying up to make sure I was okay?”

“Well, yes! When I heard people from Hawkins High were getting killed, I had to make sure it wasn’t you.” You finally meet his gaze, the anger melting away into something softer. “So, you can’t do this. I can’t let you.”

Steve swallows, slowly stepping close to hold your hand again. He puts the cassette back in, breathing in deeply. “I have to, honey. They need me.”

“But what if I need you too, huh? What if I already forgave you long ago, and you being here has been all I ever wanted?” You grab at the vest adorning his chest, not even realizing that it wasn’t his. “I don’t understand half of what you're saying, and I don’t care. Whatever it is you think you need to do, you don’t. I promise you don’t.”

Admittedly, there’s a moment where Steve considers it. A guilty, selfish part of him that wants to just tuck away here for the rest of the night. Forget the monsters that lurk in the shadow in the safety of your arms. He’s dreamed about this, actually. Dreamed about standing in front of your doorway, professing his love and saying he was sorry. In his dreams, you always pull him inside where he ends up in your bed, making up for lost time.

As much as he wanted to recreate that dream, he couldn't. Instead he pulls you into a tight hug. His fingers weave through your hair as he just holds you. “I’ll be okay.” Steve whispers, barely believing it himself but knowing it’s what he needed to say. “I’ll come back. I’ll come back, and we’ll catch up. We’ll go build that bonfire and burn things together, yeah? I got a few things I’d like to get rid of too.”

He pulls back to smile at you, palm gently cupping your face on your affected side. His thumb ghosting along the surgical scars. His calloused touch feather light on your skin. “But I have to go. I do. One day I’ll tell you why, but for now..” He brings the headphones over your head and onto your ear. He clicks play, forehead resting against yours as the notes of your favorite song ring in your mind. He sways with you there for a moment, humming along to the tune before pulling away.

You watch him leave, him saying one last thing to you, but the music drowns him out. Not that it mattered, as you could read his lips just fine.

I’ll be back. Don’t stop me.

“Steve!”

You rush after him, wobbling down the stairs due to your poor balance. He’s already out the door, but he turns to you. Strained, and torn. His eyes pleading with you to listen, but you need to do this.

You crash into him, cutting off his mumbled curse by holding his face in your hands. Your fingers curling through chestnut hair, and caressing tan skin. There are no words as you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you lean up to press a soft kiss against his lips. Your first, and possibly your last. He responds almost instantly, strong arms curling around your body as the music keeps playing in your head.

“Come back.” You mumble against his lips, wishing you could tug him back inside. “Please. Just come back.”

“I will.” You feel him respond against your lips, breath mixing with yours. “I will.”

——

Hawkins was on fire. Split in four, you watch as the cars speed away from the old town. Living a ways away from the town, you only got a fraction of the damage.

Eddie was cleared, thankfully. You heard through the grapevine that he was in the hospital, recovering from an ‘animal attack.’ You couldn’t forget Steve’s injuries when you heard that. The clawed, torn skin on his stomach and around his throat.

Steve left with your heart in his hands that night. Whatever it was, whatever thing that was killing people, you prayed Steve killed it. You prayed that Eddie’s innocence proved that he’s won.

You hear a knock on the front door. It’s 10 am, and you were stuck in front of the radio. Listening to the local broadcast report on the Hawkins earthquakes and its casualties.

Another knock on the door. You were expecting someone, so you quickly rush to the front door. You fling it open, nearly in tears at the man standing before you. All sweet smiles and scruffed up appearance.

“Hey Honey, I got some firewood. Think you’re up for that bonfire?”

#thebunspeaks #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #fluffybunnycorner #stranger things hc #steve stranger things #steve the hair harrington #steve the king harrington #steve x reader #steve x fem!reader #steve x you #steve x oc #Steve x disabled!reader #disabled!reader #it’s here #I’m so excited #I’ve been thinking about telling this story for a while now

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