#“steve “he’s a guy so i have to be the girl” harrington
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Paper Hearts Part 1
Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).
So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.
I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.
Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.
Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.
****
Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:
PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE
$1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS
$3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS
ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985
SENIOR BALL
Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.
There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.
He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.
Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.
“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.
Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.
He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.
He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.
There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.
And Steve hoped it was a good day.
****
Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.
He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.
Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.
Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.
He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.
He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.
“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”
A couple of kids snickered.
“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.
That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.
Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.
“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”
“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.
The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”
“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”
The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”
He nodded.
“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.
When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”
Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”
Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”
“323B.”
“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”
Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”
Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”
This time it was Harrington who winced.
“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”
Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.
“Shit.”
Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”
Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.
“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.
Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.
“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”
“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”
Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.
“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”
“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.
Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.
Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.
“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”
Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”
He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”
Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”
And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.
And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.
****
Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.
Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.
Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.
He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.
So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.
He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.
Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.
He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.
Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!
Now that was an idea.
He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.
A smile spread over his face.
That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.
He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.
Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.
He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.
****
Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.
He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.
They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.
The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.
And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.
Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.
But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.
To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?
Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.
But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.
He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.
He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.
“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”
Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.
“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”
“What did you do?”
So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”
“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”
Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.
“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.
Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.
It would just have to wait until Monday.
****
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TICK // 5.1 - how soon is now?
Rating: mature (homophobia, angst, language, sexual content)
Word Count: 2700
☾
I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
☾
December 1983 - junior year
Stepping off of the school bus with Robin close behind you, you immediately began scanning the Hawkins High parking lot for Eddie and his beat up van.
And there he was.
Leaning casually against the side of his van, one leg propped up on the tire. It was hard to miss the unusual creature that called himself Eddie Munson.
You tugged on Robin's backpack strap. "See you later, yeah? Cover for me with Mom and Dad if I'm not back by dinner," thinking for a moment, you laughed. "Actually, maybe consider calling Hopper if I mysteriously disappear after this."
Robin chuckled, "He does have a legitimate kidnapper's van. But hey, maybe he'll try to lure you in with free candy or puppies."
Sticking out her pinky finger to you, your sister hooked it around yours before saying goodbye.
Normally, you would exit the school bus each morning and look around for Nancy, or maybe Chrissy Cunningham, who you were friends with briefly in middle school. You used to look for Barb, too, with her glowing red hair and kind smile.
You assumed Nancy was with Steve Harrington and their group. Lately, the popular crowd had been irking you, making the base of your skull ache with apprehension. The idea of them not being quality friends and judging you behind your back made you think of your parents.
You did a lot of thinking in your spare time - about your family, school, stuff like that. You were naturally an overthinker. That's why you picked at your fingers so much.
Most of your thoughts that week were more focused on your social life, though, including the crazy-haired boy that stumbled into your line of attention by simply giving you a tattoo and being genuine.
You wanted that for yourself. You wanted to feel comfortable in your own skin. You wanted Robin to feel comfortable in her own skin, too. How long had they been conforming to the mold your parents put them in, for fear of chastisement? Or, in Robin's case, conversion therapy.
Shaking your head and vowing to start a new day, you meandered over to Eddie. You wondered if he would ever not look slightly shocked when you talked to him in public.
"Good morning, sunshine. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
He sipped on a paper cup of what looked like black coffee, eyeing you through the steam that was coming off the hot liquid. You tried not to stare at his lips as he licked them.
"Wanna ditch school with me today?" you said quickly.
☾
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way?
☾
Ten minutes into driving and you were already bickering with each other.
Eddie couldn't keep his mouth shut. And you couldn't stop your fiery temper from taking the bait.
"...all I'm saying is, I don't understand why you're friends with those jocks."
You huffed for what felt like the millionth time, looking out the window of his van. "And I told you already, I'm not really friends with them. Nancy, yeah, but not the guys."
"And why not?"
Eyes wide, you snapped a little. "You just asked me why I'm friends with them. Now you're asking me why I'm not?"
The grin on Eddie's face was contagious, apparently, almost making you smile back. His outrageous, carefree attitude reminded you of why you wanted to skip school with him to begin with.
"Fine, fine. New question."
"Great," you replied with heavy sarcasm.
"What about me?" Eddie kept his eyes on the road, but glanced your way for a split second. "Why the hell are we suddenly hanging out with each other?"
"Because I asked you to ditch school with me today," you replied simply.
"Thanks, Captain Obvious, but you know what I meant."
The girl in his passenger seat thought for a minute or two, trying to find the right words. You knew he deserved some kind of explanation. Especially after kissing him out of nowhere at the party. Hell, he probably thought you were a typical popular kid playing a prank on him.
You picked absentmindedly at the stray fibers sticking out of the woven seat cover.
"I dunno, I feel like I can trust you, in a way. Like you're not going to run off and tell the whole school all the juicy details."
"I don't kiss and tell, Buckley."
You waved in his direction. "Exactly. Thanks for not telling anyone about the tattoo, either."
Eddie seemed unusually serious for a moment. "No problem."
"You know, I'm sure it would take less than a day for Carol Perkins to spread rumors about me if she had the right ammo for it. She's always had it out for me. And I never did shit to her!"
The boy beside you chuckled. "It's because you're prettier than her. And a lot less annoying," he paused before adding one last comment. "Not to mention her boyfriend Tommy drools over you every chance he gets."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. You never noticed?"
"Well… no. He's a douchebag."
The van was at a stoplight in the middle of downtown. Though the weather was bitterly cold, you could still see shoppers walking along the storefronts.
"So, I've recently come into some money," Eddie began. "Ten whole dollars to be exact. What do you think about grabbing some hot chocolate?"
The corners of your lips lifted into a smile. "Sure."
He rounded the corner, pulling up to the nearly empty small diner.
Over two cups of hot chocolate, with extra whipped cream for you, the two teenagers chatted happily.
It felt natural for you. For the first time since you could remember, you felt comfortable. Your sharp edges softened. The wall you had built up to shield your heart was still standing strong, but there was a tiny window on it that you allowed Eddie Munson to peer through.
You learned about the love he had for his guitar, the dreams he had for his future in the music business. You learned, sadly, that he didn't get along with his dad and that his mother left when Eddie was just a kid.
And most importantly, he made you laugh. Usually, Robin was the only one who could do that. But the difference between Eddie and Robin was that you had the natural urge to protect your little sister. You didn't burden Robin with any more stress than she already had to deal with.
With Eddie, you looked at him as an equal, and maybe you didn't have to hide your deep, dark thoughts.
A few hours later, you both made your way back to Eddie's van.
"You know, I've never driven a car before."
The leather-clad boy stopped dead in his tracks, one pale hand resting on the hood of the van.
"Come again?"
"I can't drive. No one's ever taught me," you tugged on the passenger side door handle. "Pick your jaw up off the floor and unlock the van! I'm freezing, dingus."
Finally inside with the heat blasting through the old vents, Eddie turned to you as you rubbed your hands together furiously.
"Well, there's only one thing left to do now."
For a second, seeing the look on his mischievous face, you were scared that he was going to kiss you. Well, scared was the wrong word.
You definitely wanted to kiss him again. A part of you wanted to re-do the first kiss. It shouldn't have been a quick peck on the lips in the dark, only for you to run away afterwards. You figured it was a necessity to get the first kiss over with, though. Now, you wanted another one, but maybe with a bit more... romance?
Ugh, you thought inwardly. Romantic wasn't a word to describe you or Eddie fucking Munson.
But he didn't kiss you. He reached a calloused finger towards you and booped you on the nose like a little kid.
"I'm gonna teach you how to drive, Buckley."
☾
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
☾
"Slow down! Pump the brakes."
"I'm trying!"
"The hell you're not!"
"Stop being an ass! We're fine."
Eddie spoke deliberately, face calm. "Put your foot on the brakes before you kill the both of us."
He was just giving you shit, because in reality, you were just fine. He took you to a large abandoned factory that had an expansive parking lot to practice driving in. There was nothing even slightly close for you to crash into.
If Eddie was being totally honest, the sight of a woman, specifically you, behind the wheel of his beloved van was enough to drive him wild. After spending nearly an entire day with the spunky Buckley girl, his spank bank was overflowing.
He never even let Gareth or any of his friends drive the van. Besides his guitar, it was his most prized possession.
He couldn't possibly pass up the opportunity to teach you how to drive. It was like taking someone’s virginity - it can only be done to a person once. Eddie felt honored to be the first to teach you, even if he never ended up being any other firsts for you. But he had to slap those thoughts into oblivion as his jeans suddenly felt tight, causing him to sigh and fog up the window beside him.
What better than a day of hooky, hot chocolate, and reckless driving?
After a while of cruising at an insane speed of five miles per hour, you seemed to get more comfortable with pressing gently on the gas pedal and then alternating to the brakes. You were pretty good with the steering but your lead foot needed Jesus.
You slowed to a complete stop, shifting into park. "See? I told you we were fine."
"Hey, I just gotta look out for my precious… Brenda here," Eddie replied, rubbing his hand on the sun-bleached dashboard.
You stared at the boy, a smile tickling your lips. "Did you just make up that name?"
He tried to keep a straight face, but busted out laughing. "Yeah, I don't know. It was the first one I could think of. The van doesn't really have a name."
Eddie couldn't remember the last time he was in such a good mood.
"Well, she has a name now. Brenda."
You looked around, both of your hands still on the wheel. Your wandering eyes inspected the radio, then drifted towards Eddie. The look in your eyes was mysterious to him.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
You chewed on your lip, staring out the window towards the decrepit factory in front of you. "Nothing, really. Just a lot of firsts for me lately."
A knot formed in his stomach as your words mirrored his earlier thoughts. Curiosity taking hold of him, he couldn’t help but pry. "Like…?"
You had a neurotic habit of picking at things when you tried to explain serious business. He watched patiently as you scratched at the peeling paint on the driver's side door.
"Driving, obviously. Skipping school. That was kinda my first… kiss the other day, too."
If you were ever planning to tell him this information without him asking, Eddie would never know. But he was shocked. He let out a quick, unintentional laugh. He didn't mean for it to sound rude... but the words were already spilling out.
"You're fucking with me, right?"
He sounded very rude.
You looked suddenly defensive. "Yes, Eddie, I'm lying to your face." Your voice dripped with sarcasm and your eyes turned cold.
"Back it up, sunshine. I'm not making fun of you," he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "But, like, why? Why me? If it's 'cause you were drinking, I totally understand if it was a mistak-"
"No," you interrupted firmly, "Not a mistake." And then you went silent.
Looking again at the clock on the radio, you unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed out.
"I've got to get home soon. I don't want my parents to know I ditched."
"Won't the school call them since you didn't show up?"
"Probably, but they've been at work all day. They don't usually get home until after my sister and I get off the bus."
Trading seats with you in the van, Eddie followed your directions and drove you home. He felt a little insecure at the sight of your nice, perfectly maintained middle class home. He worried that you would have a conniption fit at the sight of the house he shared with his father.
"Thanks for everything today, Eddie Munson."
He stared at you, wondering what was going through your mind. But instead of inquiring, he let you go. You waved a quick goodbye at the brown-eyed boy before disappearing into the house.
☾
I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
☾
"Bless us, oh Lord, and these gifts which we are about to receive from your bounty. Through Christ our Lord we pray, Amen."
Dinnertime in the Buckley household was underway. From what you could tell, your parents had no clue that you skipped school that day. Shoveling mashed potatoes onto her plate, your mother looked at you and Robin.
"So, girls, tell us about your day."
You both exchanged identical looks before your parents could notice something was off. The eldest Buckley daughter responded with haste.
"My day was good. Not much homework with winter break coming up."
Your mother smiled at you. "I'm so excited for Father Humphrey's service on Christmas Eve. Aren't you, Richard?"
Grumbling something about being up late on a holiday, her father shrugged. "How about you, Robin? Did anything interesting happen at school today?"
You could see the internal battle in Robin's head, trying to think of a proper thing to say.
"Oh, yeah. I was selected to do a new song in band. So I practiced that a lot today."
Melissa Buckley giggled. "That's great news, Robin. A solo? You're so talented, sweetie."
"No, not a solo. More of a… duet."
"And who is the lucky boy, dear?"
You knew that the duet was with a girl, which is the main reason why Robin was so excited about it to begin with. But Robin knew the protocol.
"Uh, Kevin… Kevin Brown." Totally made up name.
Your father finally spoke, his mouth full of food. "See, Y/N, why aren't you more like your sister? If you keep avoiding boys, the whole town is going to think you're one of those… homosexuals."
"Richard!" your mother scolded, straightening up in her chair.
"What? You know I'm right. The girl is seventeen. Prom is coming up. I've never heard a single boy's name come out of her mouth. She spends too much time with that Wheeler girl, and you know they're a bunch of sinners."
Resisting the urge to flip the entire fucking table, you remained stone-faced as you responded. You could feel Robin kicking your leg underneath the table.
"Actually, father, I have plans with a boy this week."
He snorted. "Is that so?"
You politely dabbed your mouth with the expensive cotton napkin, face red with silent anger, then stood up from your chair.
"Yes, and he agreed to teach me how to drive. So maybe I can get my license in the spring."
Your mother set down her silverware. "Darling, is that really necessary? What's this boy's name?"
"Eddie Munson."
Slam.
Richard Buckley pounded a fist on the table, then pointed at you. "I forbid this. You know what kind of reputation that family has. His father is a drunk and a heathen."
"Please…" Robin pulled on the edge of your shirt. Not worth it, she mouthed at you.
You looked your father directly into his eyes, the color so much like your own. But he didn't back down.
"I forbid this, Y/N," he repeated coolly. "If I see you with that Munson boy, you'll be spending your entire senior year in a private school, where you can focus on your studies and repent."
☾
When you say it's gonna happen now
When exactly do you mean?
See I've already waited too long
And all my hope is gone
☾
(song lyrics credit: "How Soon Is Now?" by The Smiths)
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“steve uses the harrington charm” this, “steve uses all his typical flirting playbook moves” that, give me a steve who assumes that since he’s crushing on eddie, who’s a guy, he has to use moves that girls usually use on guys in order to get eddie to recognize that he’s flirting.
give me steve thinking that since eddie isn’t a girl, all the usual flirting he does won’t work, so he assumes he should use the moves girls he’s dated have used on him instead. give me steve tilting his head and batting his eyelashes and asking a very perplexed eddie to explain something about cars or sports since “guys are just so smart about this stuff.” give me steve playing up being cold until eddie gives him his jacket, give me steve feeling up eddie’s biceps and going “wow, you must work out a lot. oh, you don’t? could’ve fooled me, your muscles are, like, so big.” give me eddie being so bewildered because steve keeps laughing at jokes that probably aren’t as funny as he’s making them out to be, or eddie being perplexed by steve twirling his hair or smiling coyly while trailing his fingers over the tattoo on eddie’s forearm.
just steve absolutely laying on the moves, but they’re not his usual moves. robin is incredibly amused and has resigned herself to eventually explaining that the gender of the person steve’s flirting with doesn’t necessarily have to change his approach (only once the comedy of the situation dies down, of course). eddie is utterly bewildered, because other than this, steve is acting totally normal.
#eddie being particularly baffled about the cars and sports comment#that’s the one tactic that backfires on steve#because eddie immediately turns around and goes “didn’t you play that????”#“steve “he’s a guy so i have to be the girl” harrington#robin “that’s not how being gay works” buckley#eddie “what the fuck is happening” munson#just absolute shenanigans because it’s the 80s and gender roles are so Heavily Ingrained into the politics of dating#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#steve x eddie#robin buckley
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I like how, despite the edgy apperance, Eddie is this kind ray of sunshine who listens to metal all the time while Steve, despite the preppy appearance, has a master in Death Glare while listening to, i don't know, Madonna I think.
#steve harrington looking like if glarr would kill you'd be dead while listening to Material Girl#I have so many questions about Steve music taste#like in the present do you think he'd listen to Taylor Swift? I have a feeling he'd pretend to listen to Kanye West to look cool#but he is a certified swiftie#I can't figure the guy out musically really#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#stranger things 4#stranger things s4#stranger things
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I know we all want an og monster hunting trio revival in s5 but consider the following instead:
It's giving The boys are back in town, the boys of summer, The boys are back. A little mansplain, manipulate, malewife. Very much introducing your new bestie to the one that got away and them hitting it off.
#this is a dream I've had since lunch and im not giving up now#i think this dynamic would be SO FUN#in the middle of the apocalypse#steve (judging) : so you spent the whole time in California High#Jonathan (pissed) : so you told my girlfriend you want her to have six kids#Argyle (vibing) : so you guys need to chill out#i know it won't happen but a girl can dream#Jonathan needs some yellow her with the team babe#stranger things#jonathan byers#steve harrington#Argyle#jargyle#stonathan#stargyle#the trio needs a nickname#we should work on that#tell your boyfriend if he says he got beef that I'm a vegetarian and i ain't fucking scared of him#meanwhile Nancy and Robin are like WTF is wrong with y'all
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at first i didn't get it, bc steve barely knows eddie in s4
but after rewatching the first three seasons and the way he fell hard and fast for nancy, the way dustin convinced him to actually look at robin and develop sincere feelings for her within the span of a day (before realizing they're simply meant to be platonic gal pals), when you realize steve is attracted to his opposites
ya, that boy is a love starved doofus. i get it
#steddie#it just makes sense idk idk i want everything to be gay what can i say#steve harrington is meant to be a boyfriend and he should be eddie's#THE GIRLS OBVIOUSLY ARENT DOIN IT FOR HIM SO LIKE... steve baby have u considered guys#also this exact post but for nancy and robin 💃🏽#my*stuff
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glitter & crimson
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
“Marry.”
“What?”
“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”
“Eddie, we’re not playing FMK; you’re supposed to be telling me his name.”
“Oh. That’s…. Joe Jonas.”
“…he’s literally from Hawkins. And he’s holding a hockey stick.”
“Nobody from Hawkins is that hot, man, no way.”
~~~
Gareth posts the clip to his personal TikTok. Before he can get around to reposting it on Corroded Coffin’s band account, it has more than 100k views. Things only spiral from there, because once the band shares it, the video goes more viral and ends up on the screens of the right people.
chiblkhwks: harrington94 is social media challenged, but we’re going to make sure he sees this. Will keep you posted.
The comment is immediately overshadowed by a busy day of PR. A photoshoot to an interview to a radio show to the green room at the Fillmore in Boston, before an intimate pre-album release show for members of their fan club. Eddie has completely forgotten about the video entirely, but Gareth’s phone pings with a text notification.
“A response has been issued!” He declares to the room, still grinning down at the screen of his phone.
The rest of the band shares a collectively confused look, all seeming pleased to find they’re not alone in whatever they’ve missed.
“What?” Jeff asks for the group.
In lieu of an explanation, Gareth just flips the phone in his hand around to show a TikTok, stitched with the clip they’d made earlier that morning.
~~~
“Marry. He’s hot, I’m not gonna kill him.”
#Stitch
“Is… is that supposed to be a compliment?” Steve asks, making a pinched face as he laces up his skates.
“You watched the whole video. He compared you to Joe Jonas.” The girl behind the camera responds, but he levels her with an unimpressed look. She doesn’t respond, and after a beat, he sighs.
“Yeah, alright, I guess Joe Jonas is hot. I’ll take the compliment.” He huffs, standing to his feet and moving from the bench he’d been suiting up on toward the ice. The girl follows him, gliding toward the net once they're in the rink, never falling out of pace with him.
“Do you know who it is talking in the video?” She presses, and Steve looks unimpressed again.
“You mean the other hot guy?” He asks with a grin, then nods. “That was Eddie. I’m surprised you don’t know him, the Party listens to Corroded Coffin all the time.”
The video loops back to the stitched clip from Gareth’s initial TikTok then. Everyone in the room processes what just unfolded.
“The Party? Did… did Steve Harrington just make a reference to DnD? Or is that some sports thing I dont understand?” Jeff asks.
Freak raises his hand, indicating he’s next to speak. “Not only that, but his nerdy DnD friends listen to us all the time?”
“Did King Steve call Joe Jonas hot?” Eddie asks, visibly still trying to connect the wires in his brain that fried at Steve’s agreement. “Did he call me hot?”
All three turn toward Eddie, whose face is still reflecting the long form math equation his brain is trying to work out, and Jeff sighs.
“Well, boys. I think we’ve officially lost him.” He says, bowing his head. Freak and Gareth join him solemnly, making Eddie huff and cross his arms over his chest.
“You’re all so dramatic.”
“Gee, I wonder who encouraged us to be this way,” Freak exaggerates through a grin, before shoving a guitar into Eddie’s chest, just in time for Paige to open the door and summon them.
“We can have a meltdown over Harrington after the gig,” Gareth promises with a pat to Eddie’s back as everyone moves around him, exiting the green room and heading for the stage.
~~~
Riding his post-show high, Eddie makes a bold move in the CC band TikTok, commenting under the video Steve had stitched.
corrodedcoff!n: we’ll be in chicago 1/26 if harrington94 and ‘the party’ are free 🎫
He only gets about 20 minutes of peace before Gareth is jumping around, proclaiming himself the greatest wingman in history.
“It’s an offer for free concert tickets made over social media, and he hasn’t even answered, Gare Bear.” Eddie tries to get him to relax, but he, too, is eager to see how the other reacts to the offer.
He wakes up the next morning to the answer he’d been waiting on, and his stomach flips as he reads it over.
harrington94: only if you guys come to the home game 1/27 🏒
__________
Steve doesn’t even bat an eye when Max shoves her way into the locker room, b-lining straight for him.
“Can I help you?” He asks without looking up, unhooking the padding from his calf and letting it drop to the ground in front of his locker.
“Are you using TikTok to publicly flirt with Eddie Munson?” She asks, voice quieter than he’d typically expect from her, but he just scoffs.
“I’m just being friendly! You’re the one who started this in the first place! What, you didn’t expect me to log on and check if they’d responded?” He asks in response, freeing his foot from the skate, before placing a cover over the blade and letting the boot drop into the lower shelf beside his locker.
“I’m just confused because you’ve been super weird about coming out, and now you’re out here hitting on a rockstar all over social media, that’s all.” Max says, and Steve freezes for a moment.
“Do you…” he trails off, before closing his eyes and rubbing a thumb into his temple. “You really think I just accidentally came out?”
“You called Joe Jonas and Eddie Munson hot, encouraged this rockstar to come to your game when he’s in town and also accepted tickets to see him perform, Steve.” Max was monotone, and held her hands up defensively when he groaned. “I’m not starting anything, I’m just saying that this could get blown out of proportion now.”
They discuss a little further, deciding neither of them will publicly acknowledge anything that’s been posted to the account for now, until they actually come up with a plan.
Once he’s in his car heading home, Steve calls Robin.
“Dingus,” she greets, as always, and he lets out a grumble. “Uh oh. What happened?”
“I think I accidentally came out on the internet, and it’s Eddie Munson’s fault.” He’s met with several seconds of silence as he starts his car on the path to him and Robin’s shared apartment.
“Eddie, the drug dealer from high school?” Robin eventually asks, confused, and Steve groans again.
“Yeah. He uh, also is in a band?” He supplies, and Robin’s quiet for a moment as she processes. Then, he hears the tapping of a keyboard. “What are you doing?”
“Looking Eddie up, obviously.” Steve can practically see her eye roll, even though they’re not FaceTiming. “You’re nothing if not consistent, I guess. Doe-eyed curly brunet.”
Steve scoffs. “You say as though you’re not the one currently waking up beside Nance every morning.”
He’s met again by a short silence, before Robin lets out a little puff of air, in a small laugh. “Thank you again for being so cool about that, by the way.” She says, before he hears clicking on her end. “Apparently, Eddie is out as bi. Corroded Coffin does a charity show for the Trevor Project every year, and he’s been to a lot of Pride events.”
Steve’s stomach twists with each new bit of information she provides, because a part of him wants to be that out, wants to be like Robin or apparently Eddie, freely sharing that part of themselves with the world and having no one give a shit. But that’s not how it works on so many levels for Steve. Beside the shit he’d have to deal with on the ice from certain other players, he had no idea how it would impact the team overall. There’s no way to gauge how fans would react, when there’s never been an openly gay player in the NHL. And that didn't even begin to touch on how his parents would react.
“Hey,” Robin breaks him out of his spiral and he realizes he’s been chewing a hole into his cheek. “I can hear how loud you’re thinking right now. Do you need me to come home?” She asks, gently, and he sighs.
“Please.” He mumbles after a long pause, and is grateful when he hears the jingle of car keys from the other end of the phone.
~~~
Robin scrolls through article after article once she gets to their place, pulling Steve onto the sofa with her and laying his head in her lap. Her fingers twist through his hair, doing her best to keep him calm as she reads up on the situation playing out to try and help gauge how big of a hole he’s dug himself this time.
“I don’t think there’s really anyone who thinks you were flirting with him. Not seriously, at least.” She tries to assure him, but he’d already seen the twitter posts to contradict that before she came over. He sighs and rolls onto his back, so he’s looking up at her, and shrugs.
“I kind of don’t think there’s any avoiding it, at this point.” He mumbles. “I’m not… I’m not ready to come out, not like this. Not on this scale. I think the only thing I can do is carry on and hope it doesn’t get turned into any bigger of a deal.”
Robin hums down at him, and continues to brush his hair back out of his eyes. “Okay. So you don’t come out yet. But don’t overcompensate for it, okay?” He scrunches his face up at her, and she types something into her phone before turning it back into his face. He immediately pales, met with a photo of him out with Heidi last year. With a black eye on full display, he looks miserable behind a fake smile.
“Low blow,” he grumbles, pushing himself away from Robin to sit up beside her, and she raises her eyebrow at him, still holding the photo pointed in his direction.
“‘Maybe they won’t notice or ask why my literal teammate punched me in the face at practice if I take a fucking supermodel out to dinner.’” Robin’s imitation is a little too good, a sure sign of too much time spent together.
“Hey, it worked, didn’t it!” He asks, taking the phone off of her and closing out of the image before locking it. He drops it back into her lap with a sigh. “I just don’t know how many times I can keep getting away with hiding it.”
“Well, it helps that Billy got traded out to LA. He would be insufferable about this, and would absolutely make everything 10 times worse.” Robin muses.
Steve sighs and hesitates for a moment before dropping his head back into her lap, curling into her. “I just want it to be on my terms, when I’m ready.”
“We’ll figure it out, and it’ll all be okay, no matter what. Okay?” She assures quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek.
His phone dings with a new notification; Max texted him a screenshot from TikTok.
corrodedcoff!n: you’ve got yourself a deal 🤝🏻
#hockey player!steve#rockstar!eddie#Eddie Munson#Steve Harrington#Steddie#should I keep going?#lmk if anyone is interested in part 2#anti billy hargrove#hockey au#Steddie hockey au#Steddie rockstar au#starkidmunson writes#glitter & crimson
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that guy ⊹ steve harrington
summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words
── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──
The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.
It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.
To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.
You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.
"Hi."
You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"
"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."
A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.
How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?
You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.
"So...not the one, I take it?"
Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.
"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."
"Nothing is wrong with you."
"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"
The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."
Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.
"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."
"She does."
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."
"At least you have one."
He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"
You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.
What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.
Until it wasn't.
"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."
"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."
Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"
You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."
"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"
Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.
Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.
"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."
"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.
Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"
"You...don't know him," you hedge.
"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."
"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."
Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."
The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.
You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."
"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.
You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?
You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.
"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."
Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.
The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.
No, you aren't going to cry.
This is stupid.
You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.
When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.
You don't have to look up to know that it's him.
"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.
"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.
There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.
"You look just fine to me."
You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."
He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."
"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.
"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.
You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.
"I should've never asked. That was selfish."
"Forget it," you say.
He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.
You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.
"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."
"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."
"Yup. Exactly. In there."
"So you said."
"Yep."
The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—
He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.
"Okay, so—"
You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.
"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.
He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."
You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.
"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.
Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"
"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."
"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"
He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.
"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."
"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.
"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."
"Steve."
"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."
"Steve—"
"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."
He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.
Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.
"Is this okay?" he whispers.
"I don't—what?"
Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.
"This," Steve murmurs.
He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.
"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."
"I think I am."
His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.
"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"
You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.
"Yes. It's you."
A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.
You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.
"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."
A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.
"Oh yeah?"
"Completely."
You kiss him this time.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve x you#steve x reader#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagine#steve harrington scenario#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington one-shot#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington headcanons#steve harrington hcs#steve harrington hc#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington dialogue#steve harrington fluff
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Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.
Movie Night
I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES
this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.
wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)
Stupid Steve. Stupid school. Stupid fucking stereotypes.
You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about.
But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.
So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.
When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.
And that sets your fate.
Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine.
It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.
You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.
Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again.
You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.
And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.
You’re fine.
“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.”
“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.
“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this.
“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside.
You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility.
Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.
Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.
After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.
He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.
He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.
“I’m sorry.”
Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside?
You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.
Billy Hargrove.
Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.
“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?
“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”
“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.
“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.
“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.
“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.”
“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.
“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.
“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.”
Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed.
It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.
“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.
“Why were you crying?”
“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.
“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.
“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.
“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”
He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.
“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.
“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.
“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.
“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.
“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.
“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.
“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.
“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.
“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.
You didn’t need more reminders.
So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.
Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.
You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.
“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.
“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.
“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house.
“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.
“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.
“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”
A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.
Yet–
“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?”
“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.
“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.
“You’re in for a ride.”
Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.
“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you.
“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.
“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.
“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.
So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.
“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?”
“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.
News flash, you didn’t like it.
“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.
“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”
You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness.
“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.
“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.”
“What?”
“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.
“Billy–”
“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.”
You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest.
“Well, I am glad I could help in some way… My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.
“Can I kiss you?”
What?
There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you.
“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.
“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.
“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.
“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.”
You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.
His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?
The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him.
He wants to take care of you.
He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.
“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.”
He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.
The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss.
You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself.
Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.
The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–
“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.
“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.
“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.
“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.
“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.
“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!”
“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.
“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.
“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.
“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.
“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.
“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.
“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”
“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.
“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.
“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.
“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body.
“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.
He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party.
This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’
He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day.
He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can.
So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you.
Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.
But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.
“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.
“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left.
While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense.
You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real.
So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.
His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.
“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.
“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs.
“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.
“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.
“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.
“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.
“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.
“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.
“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat.
“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.”
Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.
“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.
“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.
“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another.
“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.
“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.
“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.
“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.
“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.
“My turn.”
A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.
#billy hargrove#harrington!reader#steve harrington#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargove x reader#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove fluff#soft!billy hargrove#ooc#one shot#stranger things one shot#request#fanfiction#billy stranger things#billy hargrove angst#angst#fluff
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a fic inspired by this, because i could not stop thinking about it.
“What’s your name?” The girl who’s name Eddie absolutely did not catch, yelled, while holding her microphone out to him.
“I’m, Eddie.” He yelled back at her, not quite sure if their yelling was necessary in their quiet corner of the room, but totally loving the chaos anyway.
“Are you single Eddie?”
“I am indeed.”
“Would you like to change that?”
That question was not hard to answer at all.
“Absolutely.”
“Great, because otherwise this would have been a very short video.” Eddie laughed much harder than he expected to–and oh shit he is much tipsier than he thought.
“So what’s your type then?”
“You’re gonna hate me,” Eddie sighed, knowing that what he was about to say was painfully contradictory, but hey, you can't blame a guy for having his taste in men be permanently altered by a guy he had a crush on when he was 20. “So I like jocks… but like pretty boy jocks.”
“Pretty boy jocks?”
“Yup.”
A smile grew on her face
“Oh easy, give me like 5 minutes.”
And she really wasn’t kidding when she said that.
Eddie had barely had enough time to get himself another drink when he heard his name being called behind him. He whipped his head around to see–
Holy shit
“Harrington?!”
Steve Harrington stared at him with a look on his face that Eddie assumed was equally as shocked as his. But then he’s the first to move, pulling Eddie into an enthusiastic hug.
“Eddie! Oh my god, it's been so long!”
When Eddie is finally released from the hug enough to breathe he responds, “what are you doing here?”
“A gay bar or Chicago?” Steve laughs.
And, oh yeah, Eddie’s stupid fucking crush. If the butterflies are anything to go by, that’s still around.
Before Eddie can respond the girl cuts in, “I’m sorry, what’s going on here?”
“We- uh-”
“We’re from the same town.” Steve fills in when Eddie cannot find the words to explain their fucked up found family situation.
The girl laughs, “what are the chances, jesus!”
“But hey,” Steve smiles in a way that Eddie is sure cannont mean anything good for him, “At least you got his type pretty dead on.”
“Oh my god, I forgot I told you that.” Eddie groans and full body cringes. And Steve just laughs. A frustratingly lovely laugh.
“I’m not surprised you were very high.”
Jesus fucking christ.
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TICK // 6.1 - i feel you
Rating: mature (violence, language)
Word Count: 500
A/N: First and foremost, thank you to everyone who has taken a portion of their time to read TICK... words cannot explain my joy to know if even one person can relate to it or make them feel some type of way. I also wanted to mention, this is a random short chapter - just for this one, we are fast forwarding to 1986, what I am calling "present day" (AKA Season 4) for a smidge ;-D As part of the storytelling, I might do this more, and there might be small time skips coming up, so, *wink wink* watch the date at the beginning of each chapter. thank u agn love u all
...now let's get on with it.
☾
I feel you
Your sun it shines
I feel you
Within my mind
☾
Spring Break 1986 - present day
Eddie Munson held a broken beer bottle against Steve Harrington's throat.
Three dark figures rushed forward, at the front being Dustin Henderson. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Eddie! Eddie! Stop!" He was frantic.
But Eddie knew better than to let his guard down at the mere arrival of a friendly face. Even the innocent face of a freshman in the Hellfire Club. The situation was dire.
"Eddie. Eddie. It's me. It's Dustin." The shorter kid gestured towards Harrington. "This is Steve. He's not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?"
The douchebag in his grasp was barely visible in the dark boathouse, but Eddie could feel him nod.
"Right. Yeah."
"Steve, why don't you drop the oar?" Dustin suggested.
He hesitated for a second, but then Harrington finally dropped the oar. The sudden sound of it crashing on the ground only prompted Eddie to press the broken glass further onto Steve's neck.
The trio behind him pleaded with him.
"He's cool! He's. Cool."
Past the glints of light coming off his own silver rings, Eddie made eye contact with the guy struggling in his grasp.
"I'm cool, man. I'm cool."
"What are you doing here?" was the only thing Eddie Munson could think to ask.
Dustin raised his hands before him. "We're looking for you."
A familiar voice chirped from Dustin's right, distracting him for a second. "We're here to help."
He felt a tugging at the back of his skull... a distant memory. Dustin kept rambling.
"Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band. This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D," Dustin paused. "Eddie. We're on your side. I swear on my mother! Right guys?"
Everyone else around him quickly concurred. But Eddie's mind went completely blank at the name Robin.
"Yes. Yes. We swear." A small red-haired girl, looking extremely depressed.
"On Dustin's mother." That familiar voice again, bringing him back to images and memories he repressed over a year ago.
Eddie was pulled out of his thoughts by Harrington speaking, squirming in his grip.
"Yeah, Dustin's… Dustin's mother."
He stared at the Harrington kid for a second, remembering all the times he and his jock friends called him a "freak". But now wasn't the time for old grudges. A new dawn approached.
Eddie let him go and stepped away.
"Jesus Chr-" Steve complained, holding his neck.
The rest of them watched Eddie carefully as he leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down until he reached the floor. His head felt like a timebomb ready to blow at any moment.
Dustin crouched in front of him. "We just want to talk. Okay."
"We want to know what happened." The girl with short hair and blue eyes approached him. Those damn blue eyes.
"Robin Buckley?"
"Uh… the one and only." She couldn't have possibly looked more uncomfortable.
Eddie was utterly confused for a moment, his brown eyes moving to each of the faces like he was looking for someone.
"Wait," he spoke, his voice hoarse. "How exactly did you guys find me?"
Unbeknownst to the shaken man, you sat on the hood of the car outside, acting as a lookout.
☾
I feel you
Each move you make
I feel you
Each breath you take
Where angels sing
And spread their wings
My love's on high
You take me home
To glory's throne
By and by
☾
(song lyrics credit: "I Feel You" by Depeche Mode)
TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddiemunson#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#eddie munson slow burn#eddie x you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x buckley!reader
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Hi!! I an so obsessed with your writing and characterization. Congrats on one year!! Can i request something for Steve?
Prompt:”i didnt realise we still weren't..."
Where someone asks reader and Steve how long theyve been together, Steve thinks theyd been dating this whole time, reader is confused cause Steve never asked her! Best friends to lovers and theyre both a little clueless. Thank you!!
i changed up the prompt a bit but i hope you like it :D — jim and joyce force you and steve to have an important talk about your relationship (established relationship-ish, also best friends to lovers-ish, fluff, 0.9k)
“Does it feel any better now?” Steve asks, cuddled next to you on the porch swing outside the Byers’ home. He’s been wearing the same worried glint in his honey eyes since the sun went down — when he tried to give you a piggyback ride and then slipped in the mud. He broke your fall for the most part, but your ankle got caught underneath him.
You nod, then grimace when you try to twist your foot. “Sorta…” you shrug.
“Have I said I’m sorry yet?” he jokes with a scrunch to the bridge of his chiseled nose.
“Only a billion times.”
“Well, I’m gonna make it a billion and one now. ‘Cause I’m sorry.”
“I’ve already said it’s okay,” you assure with a giggle, leaning over to knock your shoulder against his. “It doesn’t even feel that bad anymore. I swear.”
“I’ll kiss it better when we get home,” he offers, just to make you get all shy. His soft smirk widens to a fuller beam when his ploy works. “I mean, you are staying over tonight, right?”
“Of course,” you shrug. “How else are you gonna kiss my sprained ankle better?”
“Touché.”
He leans in for a kiss. The tip of his nose just barely grazes the side of yours when the screen door shrieks open. The Talking Heads playing from inside grows suddenly louder, then muffles again when the door shuts. Jim and Joyce stumble out together — eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, obviously not totally sober.
The woman pops a cigarette between her pink lips. Hopper lights it for her. “You know… I’ve already booked the reservation for Enzo’s,” he tells her lowly. His back faces the two of you, totally unaware of your presence and blocking any view of you.
“Oh,” she hums sarcastically, blowing smoke from her lungs. “Is that right?”
“Yep. So either I sit there all alone with my chee-anty, or you come and keep me company,” Jim lilts in a quiet, honeyed tone. “And if that doesn’t sound like a good time, then maybe the bottomless breadsticks will win you over.”
Steve leans against your shoulder. His mouth rests outside your ear. “Do you think they know we’re out here?” he asks.
You raise a silent hand with a pointed finger, shushing him without saying a word.
Joyce giggles like a teenage girl. “Look. I don’t even know if I like you,” she teases.
“But you’re thinking about it, right?” Hopper wonders, with all the hope of a schoolboy asking out a girl way out of his league. “‘Cause you should.”
Steve shifts. The porch swing squeaks. Both parents turn to face you, features softly agape. Jim blinks once. “You guys been sittin’ there the whole time?” he asks in a strangled voice.
“Enough to hear you groveling,” you answer.
“Alright…” he grumbles half-heartedly.
“The bottomless breadsticks are actually pretty good, Joyce,” Steve chirps obliviously, smiling wide and flitting his eyes between the two standing across the porch. “But, you know, if she doesn’t wanna go with you, Chief, I’m always available—”
“Okay, let’s go around back,” Hop announces, guiding Joyce down the steps with a hand curled gently around her elbow. The woman giggles when you whistle suggestively at them. Jim shouts at you over his shoulder. “Watch it! And ice that ankle when you get home!”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Harrington, don’t let her walk on it,” the man sighs, already exasperated. “Be a gentleman, alright? Give your girl a day’s bed rest, dote on her or whatever—”
“Oh, we’re not— I’m not his girlfriend,” you correct with a forced laugh.
Your words seem to take Steve by surprise. He flashes you a look, scruff features swirled with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re not dating, Steve.”
He scoffs an awkward laugh, brows pinching. “You’re joking, right?”
“Well, this is awkward,” Jim mumbles, grateful he’s not the butt of the joke for once.
Joyce slaps his arm. “Hop.”
“We’re gonna go,” the man announces, heading towards the backyard. “Have fun with… this.”
Steve waits until they’re gone to face you fully. He turns on the swing until his knee brushes the outside of your own. The hurt puppy expression on his face hasn’t quite ebbed. “You don’t think we’re dating?”
“You do?” you retort.
“Yes!” Steve shouts, talking wildly with his hands. “Our first date was at Enzo’s! I brought you flowers and everything!”
“You never asked me to be your girlfriend, Steve—”
“I thought it was implied!”
“—I thought you didn’t wanna be, like, official with me or something!”
Steve goes suddenly silent. His chest starts to ache like there’s a fire rising behind his ribcage. He swallows hard. “Have you been… Have you been seeing other people?”
“No!” you answer instantly, face twisted in abhorrence of the thought. “Of course not!”
“Okay. Good,” he nods, raking a hand through his wild hair and settling again. “‘Cause I haven’t either, so… We’ve basically been dating this whole time.”
You meet his smile with a playful glower. “You still shouldn’t asked me, though.”
“Well, I’m asking you now,” he announces and wraps an arm around your shoulder. He leans in until you can smell the birthday cake and soda on his breath. You don’t notice until now that your lipstick is smeared on his mouth. “Do you wanna be girlfriend-boyfriend with me?”
You purse your lips to the side with a playful hum. “Mm. I’ll think about it.”
“Oh, c’mon!”
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble
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It wasn't the first time Eddie woke up to an empty bed after having someone spend the night. But it for sure was the first time it caught him by surprise.
He had been pretty sure things were different, with Steve. There was a real, proper date before they ended up in Eddie's bed together, after all. They held hands, they cuddled, they did all the romantic shit that Eddie used to scoff at and skip right past, before he got to know Steve Harrington. It hadn't felt like it was just about the sex: there had been tender touches and sweet words and soft kisses, and falling asleep in each other's arms afterwards had felt more intimate than anything Eddie had ever experienced before. So it didn't make sense to wake up and see no trace of Steve. No note, not a single piece of evidence that Steve had been there, not even something as dumb as a forgotten sock. Nothing.
As he went through his morning ritual of coffee, cereal and cigarette, he felt confusion make place for anger. By the time he was dressed and looking at himself while brushing his teeth in front of the crappy old bathroom mirror, he wondered how he could ever have been stupid enough to think that Steve would stay. The realization that Steve had apparently only used him to get what he wanted and dropped the act as soon as that happened, made him feel gross. He spit out his toothpaste with way more force than necessary and jumped in his van to tell Steve exactly that Eddie wasn't the kind of guy who tolerated being toyed with like that.
-----
When Eddie barged into Family Video, Steve was standing at one of the shelves with a big pile of tapes in his arms, the store empty and quiet except for some movie playing on the big screen in the background.
He looked up at the sound of the bell, and actually had the audacity to smile a soft, almost tender smile when he saw Eddie coming in.
"Hey there."
And, well, that truly did it for Eddie.
"Hey there?!" he repeated in a loud, shrill voice. "Seriously, Steve? What the hell, man? You sneak out of my bed after making me think what we did actually meant something, and now you greet me with a "hey there" like nothing has even happened?!"
Steve frowned; he looked genuinely surprised. Seriously, had none of the dozens of girls he probably pulled this on ever told him off? Or were they all worth staying for, contrary to Eddie the Freak Munson?
"Wha- What do you mean, making you think it meant something?" Steve stuttered. "It meant something. At least," he shrugged lightly and his cheeks colored into a light shade of pink, "to me it did."
For obvious reasons, Eddie found that a little bit hard to believe.
"Then why the hell did you sneak away at the crack of dawn like it was just some goddamn one-night stand?!"
Steve stared at him for a couple of seconds, his mouth falling open. Eddie had seen him look confused plenty of times before, but never like this - like he was missing something huge.
"I - I was allowed to stay?" Steve finally uttered. And it sounded so genuine, so small, so lost... All Eddie's anger easily got knocked out of him with that one question.
"You thought you weren't allowed to stay?" he asked, in a much softer voice this time.
Steve shrugged, suddenly avoiding Eddie's gaze.
"Yeah, I mean... I just assumed..." He swallowed visibly, seemingly searching for words. Finally, he fixed his eyes back on Eddie's face. "You actually wanted me to stay?" It sounded equal parts confused as hopeful, and the look in his brown eyes was so soft and innocent that it almost broke something inside of Eddie.
"Why the hell did you think I wouldn't?"
"I dunno, I just thought..." He looked away again, to a point just behind Eddie's shoulder as he continued, "Whenever a girl would come to my place, they'd always leave right after we finished. Or when I'd come to theirs, they'd have me leave through the window before their parents would notice. Some of them wanted to cuddle for a bit afterwards, but not, like, the whole night, y'know."
"Fuck, Stevie... I -" Eddie could barely believe what Steve was saying; it truly blew his mind that there were so many people who could have Steve Harrington in their bed and not want to keep him there forever. It made him furious - not at Steve, obviously, but at those girls who had made this perfect boy believe that he wasn't the kind of person people would want to keep around for what came after the sex.
"Falling asleep with you last night... That was the best thing that ever happened to me," he told Steve. It felt vulnerable, to say it out loud, but he knew he had to get it all out in the open. "I mean, don't get me wrong, the things we got up to before falling asleep were also pretty damn mind-blowing..." He couldn't help but chuckle. "But of course I wanted you to stay. I thought that would speak for itself."
"Oh," was the only thing Steve said, just blankly staring at Eddie for a couple of seconds. Then, his eyes widened as Eddie's words finally seemed to sink in. "Shit, Eddie, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to -"
"It's okay," Eddie cut him off. "Can you uh," he nodded towards the video tapes in Steve's hands, "Put those away, please?"
Steve placed the pile on the shelf behind him and Eddie immediately launched himself into his arms, pulling him as close as humanly possible without crushing his bones.
With a surprised Oomph! Steve took a few stumbling steps backwards before he caught his balance again, and hugged Eddie back just as tight.
"I'm really sorry, I messed up," he said, his mouth close to Eddie's ear. "I had no idea. If I had known, I would never have left, seriously. I would've called in sick and made you pancakes, and I would've stayed with you in bed all day."
"It's okay," Eddie repeated. "I mean, it's frankly ridiculous that you'd assume I wouldn't want you around every single fucking morning from now on, but -"
"So can I make it up to you tonight?" Steve interrupted him, an eager undertone to his question. "Or actually tomorrow morning, I guess?"
Eddie leaned back slightly to see Steve's face. He was hesitantly smiling at him, and Eddie gave him a beaming smile in return. Then, he leapt forward again to press an impetuous kiss against Steve's lips.
"How 'bout you make it up to me every day from now on, big boy?"
"I dunno, making you pancakes every day from now on is a bit much, don't you think?"
Eddie laughed. "Then the deal's off, sorry."
"What if we take turns?"
He pretended to think for a moment. "Alright, I think I can live with that," he finally concluded, letting Steve pull him closer again to steal another kiss. And as long as he could taste Steve's lips, he couldn't care less about pancakes.
#look i know we all go crazy for the trope of steddie waking up and being surprised the other is still there#or one of them waking up to an empty bed only to find the other in the kitchen making breakfast#but have something a lil more painful instead i guess#don't mind me rambling about stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#fruity ficlet
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Steve Harrington x fem!reader
[4.2K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+
SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE
LESSON #1
“Oh, come on,” the guy coaxed, voice wheedling and a little slurred.
You didn’t really know him, a friend of a friend's cousin who was visiting from out of town but he’d been cute enough to entertain five beers ago. He’d grown sloppier now, a little leery, his hand around your wrist as he udder you towards the dock that overlooked Lover’s Lake.
You’d dug your heels in, smiling through your teeth as you shook your head and tried not to spill the cheap wine Robin had brought down the front of your shirt. The small beach that was hidden in a cove was surrounded by trees, green in the summer, full and making the crescent moon strip of land perfect for a bonfire and for some drinking.
There were small crowds of people all over the sandy patch, sitting on blankets and cheap camping chairs, familiar faces lit by the small fire, people you didn’t know as well lingering between, bare feet on the edge of the shoreline.
You’d came with Eddie, riding in the front seat of his van with a rucksack full of corner store liquor on your lap, the smell of weed coming off strong from the pocket inside his leather jacket.
“A night full of potential clients, sweetheart, please,” he’d pleaded with you, brown button eyes wide. “The Jacksons have their cousins over from the backass of Georgia, they’ll pay for the rest of our summer if I show them the good shit.”
So you’d agreed, albeit grudgingly, letting your best friend haul you off your sofa and to the get together that you didn’t really want to go to. But Robin was there, and Nancy too, a few people you hadn’t seen since senior year, back for the summer to visit their folks and well - it wasn't all bad.
Then the evening faded into night and the lavender skies turned inky, the same shade as the lake water. And when people got a little looser, whisky and bud light warming their veins, they laughed as they stripped down to mismatched underwear and dove off the dock, splashing and shrieking in water you couldn’t see the bottom of and god—
You’d, grimaced, turning away from the shoreline and sticking close to Eddie, the boy’s arm always brushing your own even when he was busy dealing, twenties fisted in his hand as he passed over baggies to a twenty something girl you’d never seen before.
But then that guy found you, relatively sober and sweet until he wasn’t, sloppy with his arm around your neck, breath smelling like smoke and beer and he was pulling you towards the people in the water, telling you it was all part of the fun. You’d protested immediately, intensely, eyes wide as the water came closer and your feet hit the wooden planks of the dock.
Between the gaps, you could see black, dark water rippling, the moon overhead glinting white off the tips of the current. Eddie hadn’t noticed you were gone until the stranger had dragged you half way down the decking. Your wrist burned from how tight he held it, how hard you tried to twist it from his grasp.
“Hey— hey!” Eddie had barked out, loud and brash and aggressive enough to make a lot of people around him startle. He broke free from the circle that had gathered around him, lips set in a snarl and determination in his eyes. You knew fine well that when Eddie got his hands on this guy, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her fucking go—”
But Eddie couldn’t reach you in time, not when his boots dug too deep into the sand and there were too many people to push out of the way. The guy laughed at a joke you weren’t a part of and then he pushed.
Your arms swung wildly, windmilling as gravity took over, your balance gone and you were too near the edge of the dock to do anything about it. Your hands grabbed at the air, fingertips just brushing your new acquaintances shirt and his grinning face and beer blurred eyes were the last thing you saw before you back hit the water.
It was as dark underneath the surface of the lake as it was above it, an icy shock despite how warm the day had been, how the heat still lingered in the night. You gasped, immediately inhaling, murky water filling your mouth and throat and you kicked, hoping that the direction your hands were clawing in was up.
But nothing happened and your body didn’t move.
On the beach, people were murmuring, too drunk to consider the consequences, too stoned to fly into action. Besides, only seconds had passed. Bubbles were floating in the spot you’d gone under, ripples evidence of the fact that you’d once been there. Eddie was sweating, shoving at people as he ripped off his leather jacket and prepared to vault himself onto the water after you but someone at the bottom of the deck beat him to it.
Steve Harrington had dropped his beer at the first sign of the commotion, his part in the conversation with Jonathan Byers and his friend from California dying off as he turned to watch a guy he didn’t know drag you down the dock. The stranger had been laughing but you hadn’t, and before he could say something, Steve only had a second to look at the absolute horror on your face before you were forced backwards and into the lake.
He was on his feet immediately, facing back up the dock to where you’d disappeared from, watching wildly for signs of you returning to the surface. And then Eddie was yelling at him, pushing past some underage kids from out of town, half of his jacket hanging from his shoulders and he was yelling.
“Steve! Steve, she can’t fuckin’ swim, man—”
If Eddie finished the sentence or said anything else, Steve didn’t hear it. He launched himself off of the side, hitting the cold water with a splash he didn’t hear. Water filled his ears and fuck, he could barely see. But somewhere a little below him there was a flash of white from your shirt that had tangled itself up around your neck, your arms flailing wildly as you tried your damn hardest to kick up the way.
Steve had grabbed your arm, your panic making you slip before he curled his fingers around your wrist and then you were being hauled against him, your back to his chest as he moved with a confidence you could never imagine for yourself. You’d been under for a minute, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but Steve had your head breaking the surface of the lake in seconds. You were gasping and coughing, your fingernails tattooing half moon lines in Steve’s forearm as you held onto him, fear gripping you as hard as you did him.
You thought you’d heard his voice, a low murmur in your ear that was fuzzy from the water lodged there, from the buzz and clamour that had then awoken on the beach as the music stopped and people were gathered by the shoreline.
Eddie had been knee deep in the water, readily meeting you and Steve as the boy swam closer with you, and once your feet hit the sandy bottom, you lurched forward, hands held out to grab Eddie’s waiting ones.
Steve’s were on your back, keeping you upright and steady until he saw that Eddie had you. You and Steve were both dripping and Eddie was swearing, his cheeks red and his eyes wide, unsure whether to rush you to his van first or hunt down the creep that had put you in danger in the first place.
But Nancy was rushing forward with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders and taking in your chattering teeth and panicked stare, the vice-like grip you had around Eddie’s fingers. “He’s gone,” she said to the boy. “He ran off when he saw Steve dive in. Just get her home, Eddie.”
Steve Harrington had ended up in the front bench with you in Eddie’s van, your shivering frame sandwiched between both boy’s and no one said anything until you all got back to Eddie’s trailer.
You hadn’t said anything as you’d headed for a hot shower, your wet clothes slapping on the bathroom tiles as you had stripped, slimy weeds and grains of sand stuck to your cold skin and your hands were still shaking as you twisted the squeaky handle to turn the water up hotter still.
And when Eddie was ripping his room apart for dry clothes for you and Steve to change into, his eyes watery with anger, his throat tight with rage, Steve had been leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his damp chest.
“We’ll get him,” he’d said quietly, just in case you could hear above the spluttering of the old pipes. “We’ll find out who he was and— and we’ll deal with him and then I’m gonna teach her how to swim, alright?”
Eddie nodded, movements sharp and jerky and he handed Steve a pair of black sweatpants and an old Metallica shirt.
“Alright?” Steve had repeated, chin ducked to make Eddie meet his gaze. He had been so serious. “I’m gonna give her lessons. This won’t happen again.”
The sky was still half pink as you biked down the empty sidewalk.
A blue-lilac colour, softer than you’d usually witness due to the early morning hour. The sun was still low, the town still asleep, the watch on your wrist telling you the seven am was still to come. Your bike chain whirred softly, brakes squeaking as you slowed by the chain link fence.
Hawkins community pool was sun bleached and well loved, the old bunting that draped over the water barely red and blue, the shutters for the food stand still rolled down and locked. The aquamarine slide was now more white and it looked like it would give you an infection if your skin was to snag on one of the exposed bolts. But the gate was open, only just, and you sucked in a deep breath as you let your bike lean against the wall.
Chlorine filled your nose as you walked in, the generator humming and the pool filter trickling, the sun loungers empty and still stacked against the changing rooms. Despite your early wake up call, the air was already warm, a humid kind of heat that Indiana summers brought, sticky and sweet smelling, like someone had left a jug of peach tea on their porch all day.
The tiles that surrounded the pool were wet, recently hosed down and cleaned, and your sneakers slapped noisily as you walked towards the waters edge. You didn’t go too close, not at all, grimacing at the bright blue rectangle like it would force you in itself. It seemed somehow more menacing when it was still, a glasslike surface reflecting the cotton candy sky above it, no splashing and screaming kids to fill its depths.
Then a boy appeared - no, more man than boy - from the staff building.
He had red shorts on, the fabric sitting above his knees and an old white shirt that you assumed must’ve once said “lifeguard.” He was barefoot and tanned, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t even notice you at first, too busy hanging a net back onto the wall.
Steve Harrington was pretty and tall and he had really good hair. He was quieter than when you’d know him in high school, softer looking than he’d once been. But you didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know you. But he was friends with Eddie and you were friends with Eddie, so somehow, someway, that meant you were kind of, almost friends with him too.
Except you weren’t and you had no idea why you’d agreed to this.
“You can change in there.”
You hadn’t expected his voice, so you startled, arms wrapping tighter around your body and crushing the small rucksack that housed your suit and towel. You frowned at the idea, because changing meant one step closer to going into the water and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to do that yet.
So you said nothing.
Steve just watched you from across the pool, brows raised. And then he shrugged and muttered something that sounded like “suit yourself,” before he threw his sunglasses onto a plastic chair and tugged his shirt over his head.
You’d barely gotten a chance to really look at the quick flash of tanned, bare skin he exposed before he dove into the water, barely causing a ripple. You were slack jawed as you watched him move seamlessly below the surface, his body a pretty shade of blue as his muscles flexed, strong back and broad shoulders stretching as he swam.
When he reappeared, much closer to you, Steve braced his forearms on the edge of the pool and dragged a hand through his wet hair, strands of it plastered to his forehead, water clinging to his lashes.
You didn’t know where to look.
“You’re not going to learn much if you don’t take your clothes off.”
Despite the way his words warmed you, skin heating up the same way the morning was, you scowled. You didn’t want to be here. Not at the pool, not around water, not with Steve Harrington and certainly not at seven in the morning on a Saturday.
And now you were standing under the morning sun and the same boy that saved you from the lake was squinting up at you from the pool below and you were only really here because Eddie had begged you.
It had been a whole week and you could still taste lake water on the back of your tongue.
“Changing rooms are over there,” Steve motioned to the building behind you with a tilt of his head.
You tried not to look at him, or the water, when you nodded tightly, dragging yourself off to the ladies section. And when you came back out, the sun had risen just a little more and Steve was still in the pool, floating easily on his back as he used his arms to move slowly around the water. The rays were glinting off of the water and him, toned shoulders and soft stomach glittering with water droplets and suddenly the pool seemed an even scarier place to be.
The old swimsuit you’d managed to pull on was a little on the tight side, all black and supposed to be modest if the too small size hasn’t been cutting into the swells of your ass and chest. It had been a good few years since you’d had reason to put it on, and even then, you hadn’t gone near water. A beach day on the Fourth of July with enough space between you and the ocean that you hadn’t even minded the sand too much.
So you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to hide the expanse of skin there, your knees pressed together and you looked downright mournful about your current predicament. If Steve hadn’t remembered the fear in your eyes that night in the lake as you scrambled for him under the water, he would’ve cracked a joke or two.
Instead, he swam over to you cautiously, fingers curling around the edge of the pool as he swiped his wet hair from his forehead. “Hey,” he began gently. The town still hadn’t woken up yet, not really. It was just Steve’s voice and the hum of the pool filter, some cicadas buzzing in a bush behind the far side of the fence. “Nothing bad is going to happen, alright? Not here.”
You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line. You didn’t move an inch. And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, not really. You were exactly friends but Steve was close with Eddie and if Eddie trusted him— well. He got an automatic pass from you too.
Eddie didn’t trust a whole lot of people.
But the problem wasn’t Steve. It was most definitely the rectangle full of blue water, shimmering and pretty as it was, it looked deep, the slope of it going downdowndown and Steve’s body was distorted under the ripples, his legs looking broken and mangled, the surface lapping way too high across his shoulders and neck.
Your body felt like lead, a dead weight ready to sink to the pool floor, legs unable to push yourself back up.
You took a step back.
“Okay,” Steve sighed and he tried really hard to not sound impatient. The day had barely begun and he’d make a promise to Eddie, one he really didn’t want to break. “We’ll take it back a little, yeah? Come over here.”
You watched as he pulled himself out of the pool with an impressively low amount of effort. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched up and he swung a leg onto the tiles before standing, water dripping off of him, cool and splashing your toes. He made a point of not looking at your and all your bare skin as he walked around the edge of the pool, right towards the back of the lot where there was a set of stairs that led into the shallow end.
He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were following and you only hesitated for a second or two before you did. And when he reached the top of the steps, he waited for you and held out his hand, brows raised expectantly.
You stared back.
The water didn’t look as scary here, but not by a whole bunch. It was lighter blue, the white tiles on the bottom of the pool about more visible and the numbers that were flaking and painted on the side of the wall said the depth was only two and a half feet.
You could drown in less, the voice in your head told you. It sounded a lot like your mom.
So you kept your arms crossed for a little while longer, teeth gnawing unkindly at your bottom lip. Steve just waited, hand extended palm up and after a minute had passed, he took one step into the pool, standing ankle deep in the water on the top stair. He caught your eye then, smiling in what he hope was a reassuring way.
“D’you trust me?” He asked, eyes squinting in the bright sun. There was a mole on his cheek that disappeared into the lines of his skin when he smiled. “S’okay if you don’t yet, but, I’m a lifeguard here, so like, legally? I can’t let you die.”
You surprised both yourself and the boy when you snorted unexpectedly, a sharp sound of amusement that you used a hand to cover up. But it seemed to encourage Steve, ‘cause he positively beamed at you, his hand wiggling, vying for your own.
“C’mon, I promise I won’t let you go,” he swore. He leaned further forward, his fingers close enough to brush the softness of your stomach, if he so pleased. He didn’t. “We’ll start nice and easy today, alright?”
It felt momentous, when you slid your hand into his. He was still warm despite his pool damp skin, like the sun lived inside his bones. He grinned, victorious, nodding encouragingly when you moved to the edge of the steps.
“We’ll do them one at a time, alright?” Steve moved to stand in front of you, his other hand catching your free one until he was guiding you closer and closer to the water, walking himself backwards with every step you took forward. You flinched when your foot hit the first step, the water warmer than you’d anticipated, brushing up just past your ankle.
You had two feet in the pool and two hands in Steve Harrington’s and it felt like the entire world was about to implode on you.
“There you go,” Steve murmured, warmth and a little hum of pride in his voice. “See? S’not bad, right? I’ve still got you.” So you took another step and another and suddenly the water was lapping at your knees. You froze, grip tightening around Steve’s fingers and your wide eyes found his, all too aware of the way you were very much in the pool now.
“Hey, hey,” Steve’s thumbs rubbed over the back of your knuckles, the skin there burning from holding him so tightly. “Listen. Do you trust me?”
There was no joke that followed the question this time. His eyes were earnest and warm, serious as they looked at you, searching your face for any signs that you were going to flee. It took you a few seconds, swallowing dryly and taking a deep, staggering breath before you nodded. You did, you did trust him, and that was as surprising as you being in the pool.
“Yeah,” you told Steve, voice a little weak and hoarse. “Yeah, I trust you.”
He squeezed your fingers and his smile was gentle, an achingly kind thing that made your eyes water in the corners and Steve let you stand on that middle step for a little while longer. “Good,” he finally said and his voice was as soft as yours had been. You tried not to look at the way the chain around his throat caught the sunlight, the silver turning golden, just like his skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”
You nodded, feverish and your movements jagged and you tore your eyes from Steve to look at your bare feet on the steps, your toes waving under the ripples, longer and skinnier and then fatter and wider. The sight made you dizzy, stomach tumbling a little but even still, you wished you’d had the forethought to paint your toenails something pretty.
“Two more steps, alright?”
Steve’s encouragement broke your senseless wanderings and you nodded again, words caught in your throat and he was leading you forward, hands wrapped around your own and he grinned when you took another step down, the water hitting your upper thighs. It was cooler as you went deeper, a stark contrast to the warm, sticky air above it and your skin prickled, mouth falling in a quiet gasp. Another step, happening almost too fast for you to overthink it, the water at your hips and making you swear as you rose onto your toes almost instinctively.
Steve laughed, not unkindly, as you moved closer to him, unthinking as your hands left his in favour of clinging to his upper arms. It felt safer like that, anchoring yourself to his solid frame, but there was so much bare skin involved and not a lot of space left between you both as you held on for dear life. His fingertips brushed the sides of your waist before he must’ve thought better of it, cheeks burning before his hands cupped your elbows and he took a little step back so your chest didn’t touch his.
“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You did it, yeah? That’s it. You’re in.”
Steve was grinning and you tried to smile too, trying to feel proud of your little accomplishment but the rest of the pool was stretched out behind Steve’s shoulder and the water there was so much more blue, cerulean leading into indigo until you couldn’t see the bottom anymore.
Steve must’ve noticed cause he shook his head, the hand cupping your elbow smoothing up your arm until he squeezed, water dripping from his palms and coasting down your skin. “Hey, hey, none of that. That’s for another day. We’re staying here, alright?”
You grimaced at the idea of ‘another day,’ but his words still didn’t ease you. You licked at your lips, dots of chlorine on them and despite how stupid you felt, you asked anyway. “What if— what if l, like, float over that way? Accidentally.”
Steve smiled like he couldn’t help himself, laughter in his eyes and a grin that he quickly tamed. “We’re not gonna catch any waves in here, this isn’t Maui,” he was still smiling, teasing, just a little. But sensing your growing worry, he continued. “And if that had to happen - which it won’t - I’ll come and get you.”
You stared at him, heartbeat in your throat and so many other questions on your tongue. They died there, fizzing into nothing as Steve held your gaze, a silent promise in his brown eyes. You’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were, still wet and spiky from when he’d been swimming as you changed.
Maybe there was doubt in your eyes, or maybe Steve just felt the need to reiterate his statement, but when he said once more, “I’ll come get you, just like last time,” you really did believe him.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington smut
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based off this post i made a couple days ago lmao
words: 2.1k
Generally speaking, Steve Harrington is a pretty good boyfriend.
He takes Eddie out, never lets him pay for stuff if he can help it—hell, he’s even bought Eddie flowers before. And Eddie’s not complaining, because it’s hard enough to find another queer man in Hawkins, let alone one willing to date him. So Steve is his first boyfriend, and Eddie hasn’t had much (read: any) experience with dating.
But he’s pretty damn sure by the time they hit the three-month mark that Steve’s staunch refusal to hold his hand is unusual.
It’s not like Steve isn’t affectionate. More often than not, Steve’s arm will be around his shoulders or his waist, and there are no shortages of kisses anywhere and everywhere. But Steve won’t hold his hand. And he hasn’t let Eddie give him a handjob. Which—the latter isn’t as much of an issue, because maybe Steve’s just not a fan of handjobs, and that’s fine, Eddie’s not an asshole, Steve’s more than entitled to say no to stuff like that.
Though, Steve’s got no problem putting his hands to work, so what is it about the idea of holding hands or Eddie touching him in the same way that makes Steve so weirdly uncomfortable?
Eddie’s first thought had been that Steve might just not like holding hands. That the clamminess of another palm in his gives him the same kind of sensory ick that Eddie gets from getting adhesive residue on his hands. But Steve holds hands with Robin all the time with no problem, so it can’t be that.
His second thought is that Steve might be so used to being the ‘man in the relationship,’ so to speak, that he doesn’t think Eddie would want to be as handsy. But, again—doesn’t explain the hand holding thing. Because Steve had definitely held hands with girls he’d dated in the past, if Eddie’s high school memories aren’t failing him.
So what the hell is it?
What’s so unthinkable about being touched by Eddie?
And Eddie tries not to read too much into it, because he’s more than aware that both he and Steve have some internalized stuff about being queer, and maybe Steve’s just working through that. He tries not to read too much into it because Steve is a good boyfriend, save for this one weird thing, and maybe they’ll get to a point where Steve will tell him why he doesn’t want to hold hands or have Eddie’s hands on his bare skin for more than a minute or two.
They’re making out on Steve’s couch one night, Eddie’s hands on Steve’s waist and Steve’s hands already halfway through undoing the button on Eddie’s jeans. Eddie starts to tug at Steve’s shirt to get it untucked from his jeans. “C’mere, wait, lemme touch you,” Eddie breathes, and Steve grins against his mouth before backing away. Eddie blinks, utterly confused. “What? What is it?”
Steve just laughs, shakes his head, and dives back in for another kiss. “You’re funny,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie feels a weird tug in his gut, because something’s wrong, and Steve’s acting weird again about Eddie touching him.
He thinks it’s funny.
Thinks it’s funny that Eddie wants to touch him.
Well, firstly, ouch. Secondly, that’s a real jerk move, but he’s torn between telling Steve off and getting off. He ends up going with the better option, because Steve might be acting like a jerk, but he’s a jerk that’s jerking Eddie off, so…better than nothing, Eddie supposes.
He doesn’t bring it up again for another three months, resigning himself to have his hands redirected from Steve’s bare skin and remaining steadfastly un-handheld. And, sure, y’know, he might be able to attribute it to the fact that they spend a lot of time with people who don’t know they’re together yet, but that possibility is quickly eradicated when Steve suggests that they tell the rest of the Party about them.
“You sure you wanna do that?” Eddie asks, brows raised skeptically, because for a guy who won’t hold Eddie’s hand, Steve’s pretty gung-ho about airing their business to the rest of the group.
Steve just tilts his head, a cute little look of confusion on his face. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, like the idea of him not wanting people to know about him and Eddie is crazy. Steve blinks, the confusion turning to concern. “I mean, unless you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you—”
“You can tell them,” Eddie cuts in, fidgeting with his rings. “I’m—yeah. Yeah, you can tell them.”
Maybe this will finally give Steve the push he needs to get over himself and hold Eddie’s goddamn hand before Eddie goes crazy and gets shipped off to Pennhurst.
Or…maybe not.
Because Steve still won’t hold his hand. Or let Eddie touch him.
The one time Eddie had managed to get his hands on Steve’s bare skin, he’d spotted Steve itching at the spots Eddie had touched in the bathroom later that night, the door only open a crack. Which is pretty dramatic, even for Eddie’s taste. Is the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him really so awful? Christ, Eddie’s getting sick and tired of this shit.
Eventually, nine months into their relationship, Steve blatantly moves a hand away from Eddie’s during a movie night when Eddie tries to take hold of it. In front of their friends. Eddie sucks up his wounded pride and corners Nancy in the kitchen later, after the first movie is over and they’ve been sent to get snacks while Steve and Robin argue over what movie to play next, wondering if he should even be asking her.
“Something on your mind?” she asks, because he hasn’t come up with anything to start with yet, and Eddie sighs.
“Is—okay, did Steve ever—when you guys were dating, did he ever, like, not hold your hand?” he asks, and Nancy tilts her head.
“I mean, sometimes…? It was only because I was wearing rings, though,” she says, like that makes perfect sense, like Steve just has some ring-phobia or something, and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Nancy gives him a little smile. “You wear yours all the time, so I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
Okay, so, weird ring-phobia it is.
That’s the new working theory, and when he and Steve bunk in Steve’s room for the night, Eddie makes a show of carefully pulling his rings off and setting them on the bedside table. There’s a couple of green marks on his fingers where the clear nail polish he’d coated the interiors in has chipped away, and he rubs at his bare fingers absentmindedly as he climbs under the covers. He takes a deep breath and laces his fingers with Steve’s, ready to have Steve pull his hand away for the umpteenth time.
Instead, he’s met with a surprised, pleased little hum. “You took your rings off,” Steve notes, relief clear in his voice, and Eddie nods, trying not to let the feeling of triumph show on his face too much. Steve grins at him and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “That’s a nice surprise.”
“What, you don’t like my rings?” Eddie teases, keeping the genuine curiosity in his voice to a minimum, and Steve’s brows furrow.
“What? No, no, I love your rings, Eds,” Steve tells him. He lowers his voice. “I think they’re pretty hot, actually.”
Okay. Okay, so a wrench has been thrown into the ring-phobia theory.
“What, are they too cheap for his majesty’s royal fingers?” Eddie jokes, putting on a goofy, poorly-done British accent, and Steve’s nose wrinkles slightly.
“I mean, they are costume jewelry,” Steve says. “Nickel-plated, right?”
Ah.
So…it’s that Eddie looks, or even feels, too cheap.
Jesus. He hadn’t thought Steve would be that shallow.
Eddie swallows. “Uh, yeah, they—they are. I can stop wearing them, if you…” he trails off, not really sure what to do with this new information. Cheap to the touch, apparently enough to make Steve wrinkle his nose at the thought of Eddie touching him with his rings on.
“What? No, no, you don’t have to. I’m good, I can deal with it,” Steve says, like it’s supposed to be reassuring, like it’s such a big sacrifice for him to deal with how inexpensive Eddie’s taste in jewelry is, like their relationship isn’t serious enough for Steve to get over himself.
It’s just his rich boy upbringing, Eddie reminds himself. Even Wheeler’s upper-middle-class jewelry wasn’t enough to beat that expensive taste.
Evidently, the conversation had stuck in his boyfriend’s brain, because on the morning of their first anniversary, Eddie is given a long, velvety black box with four Sterling silver rings. They’re exact replicas, design-wise, of their nickel-plated counterparts, and Steve looks so proud of himself, so pleased with his gift idea, and Eddie barely stops himself from frowning.
“Oh,” Eddie says, a little hollow, “um, thank you.”
“You like ’em?” Steve asks, and there’s such a hopeful look on his face that it just pisses Eddie off more. “I just figure—y’know, because, I mean, I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing costume jewelry, so—”
“Yeah, no, I, uh—I got that,” Eddie says with a strained smile. “Thanks, Steve.”
Steve’s brows furrow. “I feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, and he says it with humor, but there’s genuine worry behind it. “Did I screw up your present that bad? Were you dropping hints and hoping for something else?”
Eddie’s jaw clenches. “It’s…the present is fine, Steve,” he says.
“You don’t like them,” Steve mumbles, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I mean, it might take me a lot longer to save up, but is—would you, like, prefer titanium or steel or something? I didn’t really think you were a gold kind of guy, but it’s fine if you are, I just didn’t know—”
“Why do I have to prefer anything?” Eddie snaps. Steve blinks at him. The look of pure confusion on his face is a little infuriating, like he can’t even fathom why Eddie might be upset, and Eddie’s eye twitches. “Look, just because you’re all high and mighty about what jewelry is worthy of being seen near you—”
“Woah, woah, what are you talking about?” Steve asks, alarmed.
Letting out a frustrated groan, Eddie slams the box down on the coffee table and stands up to stomp around the living room, pacing back and forth. “You won’t let me hold your hand o-or even touch you, like you’re so above cheap shit that you can’t bear to let it touch you, and I’m so sorry that I’ve offended the sensibilities of his highness with my ‘costume jewelry,’ but Jesus, Steve, you can’t even get over yourself on our anniversary? I’ve seen you act like me touching you with my rings on gives you hives or some shit, like it’s just so terrible that it makes your skin crawl—”
“It does,” Steve says, a little subdued, eyes wide with shock, lips parted, “I’m allergic to nickel.”
Eddie pauses mid-stomp.
“You’re what?” he squeaks.
Steve blinks, and a long silence stretches between them. “I’m allergic to nickel, Eds, everybody knows I am,” he says. “I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing nickel-plated stuff, but you really like your rings, they’re important to your look, so I wasn’t gonna be a dick and tell you to take them off just so I could.”
Recontextualizing every interaction of his year-long relationship he’d tried not to read too hard into is…a lot to experience in a little under thirty seconds.
“Oh, dear God, I’ve been an asshole,” Eddie mutters. “I thought you wouldn’t let me touch you because—but it was just—”
“Yeah, an itchy dick is not a good feeling,” Steve says, a nervous little laugh bubbling out of him. His face falls a little. “I—did you think—?”
“I’m so sorry,” Eddie blurts, horrified. “I am so sorry, Steve, oh my God—”
“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t—I must’ve seemed like a total jerk, Eddie, I should’ve told you outright, but I guess I figured you already knew,” Steve says, shrugging helplessly. “But, no, it’s nothing like what you said, I promise, I’m just—I’m allergic.”
Eddie immediately yanks the rings from his fingers and fumbles to get the box open, swapping them out for the silver ones, which he jams onto his fingers as fast as humanly possible. “If I got my head out of my ass sooner, I swear I would’ve found replacements the second I knew,” he says, and Steve laughs.
“I know you would’ve,” he says, all fond and soft, “you’re good like that.”
“Let me make it up to you? I can touch you all I want now,” Eddie says, waggling his silver-covered fingers in front of Steve’s face.
Steve interlocks their hands and leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet. “Looking forward to it, Eds.”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#stranger things#my fic#also my prompt#i guess it's a prompt?#it was more like. a passing idea#but still
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Steve ends up heartbroken, lonely and depressed after season 2. Nancy called him bullshit, even after he ditched all his old friends for her. Billy Hargrove took his spot at the top of the food chain. He can have it, Steve doesn't really want it anymore. But Steve does want to find some sort of connection. Someone to have in his life who isn't an 11 year old kid he barely knows. He tries to go on a date one night, take a nice-seeming girl to a party. He wants to find connection, to kill the loneliness that's been building for months, but just as he's feeling kind of good about things, his date ditches him.
So. He decides to drink his feelings. He gets majorly fucked up, and ends up laying on the ground in the backyard, contemplating how much life seems to hate him.
Only to literally get tripped over by Eddie Munson, who was at this party selling pot and is very confused as to why Steve Harrington is alone on the ground with a bottle of vodka clenched in one hand.
Eddie ends up chatting a little with Steve, nothing substantial, but enough to know that Steve is very very drunk, and also very very sad.
He asks if Steve wants to go back to the party, and Steve staunchly refuses. He doesn't want to be around a bunch of annoyingly happy people.
He asks if Steve needs a ride home, and Steve just kind of shrugs. His parents just left for another trip, so home is kind of depressing right now too. But he doesn't exactly have any other friends he can stay with so. Home it'll have to be.
Only Eddie can *tell* he doesn't really want to go home, though he has no idea why Steve wouldn't want to return to his veritable mansion after a shitty night. The reason doesn't matter much. He offers to let Steve crash at his place. Steve can take the couch, or hell he can stay in Eddie's room if he doesn't mind sharing, that way he wouldn't risk being woken up when Wayne comes home that morning.
And well, Steve agrees. Can't think of any reason not too. Munson has been nice so far, he's got a good easy-going energy that Steve likes. Why not stay the night.
By the time they get to Eddie's, Steve is *slightly* more sober. Not much, but he's slurring his words a little less, and he can walk with only a little help.
Eddie grabs them each a little plate of leftovers, because he has no idea if Steve's eaten at all. It's quiet while they eat, Eddie doesn't push Steve to talk, and Steve isn't sure what to say. Eventually Eddie sets the plates aside and give Steve an easy grin.
"So, do you want the couch, or are you crashing with me?"
Steve thinks about it for a while. He hasn't shared a bed with a guy-friend since he was a kid, and he's heard rumors about Eddie, whispers in the hall about the way he looks at other guys. But...Steve can't really bring himself to care. He's tired, and he really doesn't want to be alone.
"I don't mind sharing."
Eddie sets them both up in his room, letting Steve choose which side of the bed he wants, and they both settle in. There's a respectable distance between the two of them, and Eddie says a quick goodnight to Steve, figures they won't talk and just go right to bed.
Except Steve isn't sober, and he really isn't in a good headspace, so he can't stop himself from blurting things out into the quiet of the dark room.
"Are you really gay?"
Eddie stiffens next to him, he can feel it, he can hear the way that the other boys breath cuts off and he seems to stop breathing all-together.
"It's okay if you are, I'm not going to be an asshole about it, I'm trying not to be that guy anymore. I guess I was just curious."
It's quiet for another beat before Eddie seems to loosen just a little. He starts breathing again at least.
"Yeah I uh- I am. Gay. And if that's weird the couch is still open, I can-"
"It's not weird."
"Okay."
Steve let's himself mull over this confirmation, and then his mouth starts moving again, without his permission.
"Is it lonely? Cause I mean, it's got to be hard to date in Hawkins. People here are shitty. Unless you've got like, a secret boyfriend or something."
"No...no secret boyfriend. It does get a little lonely sometimes. I'm lucky though, I've got my uncle, and my friends are pretty great. That's enough most days."
"What do you do when it's not enough?"
"Hmmm?"
"When your uncle and friends aren't enough, what do you do? To try and...make it better?"
Eddie is quiet again for a long stretch before he shrugs.
"I try to focus on something else. I'll play my guitar or work on a new campaign, read a book. Something to take my mind off it."
"Oh."
Now Steve is the one who seems tense, his jaw is tight and he's got his arms wrapped around himself. His next words come out as a whisper, but Eddie manages to catch them.
"I don't know how to do any of that."
He sounds almost choked, and Eddie is caught off guard. He's never seen Steve Harrington as anything other than solid, as happy. He's the king, after all. He's supposed to be all smiles and great hair. Only...Eddie's noticed that he hasn't hung out with his old friends lately, that he's eaten alone at lunch too many times to be anything other than strange.
"Steve...are you lonely?"
Eddie expects a denial, for Steve to laugh it off and tell Eddie that he's perfectly fine and fulfilled. Or maybe he expects a shrug, a non-answer. What he doesn't expect is the gut-wrenching sob that seems to tear past the other boys lips.
He doesn't expect to turn and see Steve Harrington's face, a scant foot from his, shining with tears.
He panics a little at the sight.
"Fuck- I'm so sorry-"
"Don't be." Steve tries to wipe his eyes, to hide the tremble in his voice. "Not your fault there's something wrong with me."
"What do you mean?"
"It's like I'm broken man, like nobody can stand to be around me. Tommy and Carol hate me now, Nancy- hell even my own parents hate being at home with me for more than a week. It's like I'm repellent or something. Couldn't even get a date to stick around for a whole night."
And Eddie's pretty sure *he* might start crying now. He'd never have expected this much from Steve, all that sadness to come pouring out. It wouldn't have happened if Steve was completely sober. Without thinking, he reaches out.
Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder and waits to see if the touch gets rejected, but Steve seems to lean into him, so he lets his hand linger.
"This probably won't help, but I don't think you're repellent. And that's coming from somebody who your whole group used to torture. I don't know much about you, but I kind of liked having you around tonight."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Steve gives him a tiny smile. His eyes are still wet with tears, and the smile doesn't come close to reaching them. He seems impossibly small here in Eddie's bed.
"I don't know man. I just wish-"
He cuts himself off, apparently deciding his words are too far, but Eddie urges him to keep talking.
"What do you wish Steve?"
"I just wish that... there was somebody out there I could have a future with. Somebody who actually loved me, you know?"
It might be the saddest thing Eddie's ever heard, and he blames that fact for what he does next.
He takes his hand off Steve's shoulders and instead hauls Steve closer to him, fitting the other boy against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. It's a move that might get him decked, but he doesn't think it will. And he'll be damned if he doesn't hug Steve right that second.
He doesn't get hit. Steve tenses for a second, but it's just that one instant before he's melting into the embrace.
Eddie feels more tears falling against his shirt, and he couldn't care less. He keeps Steve close, let's him cry into his chest, runs a hand through that famous mop of hair.
He isn't sure how long it takes for Steve to calm down, but eventually he does. His breathing evens out, and he shivers a little before speaking.
"Thanks man."
And Eddie takes another leap of faith.
"I could be that person, you know."
"What?"
"I mean. You know Im... not straight. It may not be exactly what you're wanting but. I think I could picture a future with you. If you want to, just for tonight...I could be that someone who loves you."
Steve looks at Eddie, like he's a puzzle that he needs to solve, before a other shiver seems to wrack his body.
"Just for tonight?"
It comes out as a whisper, but Eddie hears it all the same.
"Yeah. For tonight Steve."
"I think...I think I'd like that."
Eddie gives him the sweetest smile he can muster, and nods.
"Alright sweetheart."
Eddie isn't exactly sure what it means, to love Steve for the night. After all, Steve is straight. He figures it doesn't matter much though, it's only for a night.
He keeps a hold on Steve, let's him get comfortable tucked against Eddie, and he does what feels natural. He runs a hand up and down Steve's spine, traces shapes into the soft fabric of his shirt. He tangles their legs together, and in a moment of insane bravery he presses a kiss to the top of Steve's head.
He's met with a sigh, full of relief, and figures he's on the right track.
"Just close your eyes Stevie, I've got you."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"Hmmm?"
"The future. You said you could see one. Can you tell me?"
And he asks so carefully, he sounds almost afraid, Eddie can't say no to that.
"Do you want the fantasy future, or the realistic future?"
"The real one."
"Alright then. Well, if I'm not going to be a rich and famous rockstar...I'll probably graduate and get a job somewhere in town. A real job, maybe working on cars or something. I'm good with cars. You'd come over all the time, have dinners with me and with Wayne. You'd have to meet Wayne. And we'd have more nights like this, sleeping close."
Steve let's out a pleased sounding hum, and shifts his face so it's buried even closer in Eddie's neck. He can feel Steve's breath on him.
"We could save up money and get a little place together, somewhere outside Hawkins. I have to stay kind of close, for my uncle, but maybe Indy?"
Steve nods, mutters something about staying close 'just in case'. He sounds like he might fall asleep, so Eddie keeps going.
"We could get an apartment, nothing too fancy. We would get two rooms, so nobody gets suspicious, but we would share a bed most nights. I'd play with my band on weekends, just for fun, and you'd join some little local sports team. I'd make sure to schedule DND nights so that I never miss a single game, even though I don't understand a damn thing about sports. We would come home for holidays, but most of the time it would just be us. I'd take good care of you, make sure you never go more than a few hours without me telling you I love you. I'll show up wherever you're working just to give you a hug and a kiss, and make sure you don't forget it. And I'll annoy the hell out of, but you won't mind too much, because I'll make you happy too."
Eddie can think of more. He can think about so many things. How he could give Steve one of his rings, even if they couldn't legally get married, even if Steve would never want that. Just as another reminder that he's loved. They could take trips together and go out to parties where Steve will never have to worry about getting ditched. Eddie doesn't do things halfway, and he has a hell of an imagination. He could picture them growing old together, if he tried, if he let himself. But this is just for tonight, so he doesn't. Instead he runs a hand through Steve's hair again, and listens to his quiet breathing. He thinks he may have fallen asleep, but he's wrong.
"That sounds nice."
It comes out muffled, spoken into Eddie's neck, but he manages to make it out, and he let's the vibration of it sink into his skin.
*It's only for tonight.*
He has to remind himself, because Steve is just feeling lonely. He doesn't want that future with Eddie, he just wants to feel loved.
But even if it's just pretend, just to help Steve for a few hours, he's okay with that.
Steve may think he's broken, but Eddie thinks he would be easy to love for a long time. Loving him for one night is nothing. He doesn't even have to try.
Tomorrow Steve will wake up sober, and he'll thank Eddie for letting him stay over, and they won't talk about it. Eddie will drive Steve back to his car in silence, and they'll say their goodbyes. They may not talk ever again, they never had before.
But for tonight? Eddie Munson will love Steve Harrington, and Steve? He'll let himself be loved, let himself beleive it. And he'll love Eddie right back.
Just for one night.
And if Steve ever needs it again? Eddie will love him for another night. And Steve will give that love right back. He's got plenty to spare, after all. And there's far worse people he could share it with.
#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve harrington whump#steve is sad#eddie helps#pre-season 4#this takes place between seasons 2 and 3#I wrote this in a fit of insanity while I was supposed to be working#hope yall like it
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