#hopefully HOPEFULLY this is considered in character steve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevebabey · 1 year

Text

not if it’s you.

word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]

You’re bone-deep tired.

The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.

It’s been a hell of a night.

You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.

It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.

The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.

Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.

The gash on your arm is the worst of your injuries. A jagged stretch of torn skin that was gifted by one of the Russian soldiers who had hoped it would loosen your tongue. And when that didn’t work, the pliers nearly had — you would’ve told them anything when they took them out and lined it up with one of your fingernails.

But Steve then had done something stupid — kicked to get a guard’s attention since his yelling obviously hadn’t made a difference, let one of them lean down real close, and then headbutted him with all his might.

Relief had shocked your system, some broken cry as you slumped over when the pliers moved away. Fingers saved, if only briefly.

It had all turned to dread when they had lugged him out of his chair, preparing for round two of questioning. You had felt it then, a twisted gurgle of emotion lurched up your throat — violent enough it might have made you sick if you had managed to open your mouth. You hadn’t. There was a chance you would’ve said something worse, some jumble of feelings that wouldn’t have helped.

So, you had bit your tongue. Tasted blood and pretended that closing your eyes meant you couldn’t hear Steve pleading in the room over.

He hasn’t said much since the two of you had been sat in the back of the ambulance, gloved hands of the paramedics roaming over skin to find and treat injuries. There’s just one guy left now, still hovering around Steve with a flashlight and treating him with much less care than you’d like.

Steve looks as tired as you feel and when he can’t focus enough to look ahead, the paramedic prods his cheek unkindly. Steve winces.

“Hey,” you snip, cutting into the interaction. “Are you done? Can we go home?”

The paramedic turns the flashlight on you, blinding you for a moment. It confirms your asshole hypothesis of his character and you cringe at the brightness. It’s gone in the next moment, finally clicked off. He observes you both for another moment before an annoyed drawl comes out.

“Yeah, scram. But first you,” He jabs a finger at Steve who blinks but doesn’t react. “Lots of rest. No big brain work, no alcohol, and don’t run any marathons or anything.”

Steve nods, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. You can’t help the wrinkle in your brow as you watch - you startle a bit when the paramedic turns his pointed finger on you.

“And you. His pupils are still dilated so keep an eye for seizure symptoms. Wake him every couple of hours and get a CT scan tomorrow.”

Some part of you is perturbed that he’s put you in charge of taking care of Steve. Another part gleans and blushes because you’d accepted the task the moment he’d asked, without question.

“Tomorrow?” You ask hotly, at the same time Steve says, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

The paramedic shakes his head, tsking as if you’re bothersome school-children not patients, and steps back with his hands raised. “Figure it out, I don’t care. I’ve got a dozen other people to check over.”

He winds around the door of the ambulance and leaves the both of you alone. A cool wind skirts through the parking lot, ruffling your hair. A sigh wrestles out your chest, a pathetic attempt to alleviate the tightness in your chest.

You don’t think you’ve ever hated the colours blue and red more than right now. The blazing colours atop police cars that flood the parking lot, the colours of Steve’s Scoops uniform, the colour of blood seeping into your pale blue shirt.

If you squint, you can see your own car parked alongside Steve’s in the distance — it feels like a lifetime ago when you had driven in and parked up. Your keys are lost down, down below you, taken in the interrogation. You stand to shake off that train of thought.

You turn back and offer your hand out to Steve. After all the blows he’s taken tonight, you desperately want to offer him kindness. Offer him a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make him flinch or wince. Steve stares at your hand for a long moment, eyes contemplating — and then puts his in yours.

He lets you pull him to his feet.

One of the police cruisers takes you to Loch Nora, Steve and you tucked away in the backseat. His hand is still in yours, barely holding it in his tiredness; when the car rounds a corner though, you can feel his fingers clench tighter so your hand doesn’t slip away.

They detach eventually when the wheels roll up on the curb outside Steve’s house, late in the night. Like the rest of the sleeping houses, the lights are all off. There are no cars in the driveway. The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.

Steve somehow looks tenser at seeing it; he still forces himself out of the car, bloody sneakers scraping against the gravel. You follow. It aches to move too much, even just shuffling out of the car feels like moving a mountain. The door clips closed quietly behind you. You hear the engine fade back down the road.

Steve is still stuck in place — you have a feeling he’s not looking at the house at all but stuck in thought, looking through the timber and paint and seeing all the horrors of the night. You step up beside him and gingerly reattach your hands.

It seems to surprise him, jumping ever so slightly at the touch and turning to look at you. “I didn’t...”

I didn’t think you’d stay. The sentence dies in his throat, a little embarrassed by how relieved he is that you’ve stayed with him - so much it shows in the quiver in his voice. Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.

“C’mon,” you urge him to walk with you, beginning to drift up the driveway.

There’s no rush, you’ll wait as long as he needs to before moving, but it’s colder out tonight. Maybe it just feels that way with all your tiredness, the frostiness nipping at your skin. All your energy is focused on staying on your feet, on helping Steve. There’s none left to keep you warm.

He ambles after you like walking is an afterthought and following you is the priority. His sneakers drag, soft scraping noises with every step. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, his fingers squeezing as if he’s checking you’re really still here with him.

The front door is unlocked and it’s only when it snicks shut behind you, do you wonder if you’ve overstepped. It’s awkward, but only a bit. You’ve been in Steve’s house before — though, who hadn’t with all his parties in sophomore year?

But not quite like this. Not just the two of you, and never holding his hand.

The events that had transpired last fall in Hawkins had thrown Steve into your life, along with a dizzying revelation of new dimensions and an unsettling truth about monsters that came right out of your nightmares.

Though, maybe it made more sense to say you were thrown into Steve’s life. You had always known of him - he couldn’t say the same about you.

Like the hoards, freshmen you had not been immune to the boyishly good looks and charismatic nature of Steve Harrington. Once upon a time, before someone called him King Steve and it stuck, there had been a crush.

But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.

Not even the adventure that bound you two together, the tunnels that snaked beneath Hawkins and your shaky hands lugging him into the car, had been enough to reignite old affections. Not his insistence on you leaving the tunnels first, not even the way he clutched you when you all made it out. Not unscathed, but alive.

Pitifully, it had been his shoddy attempts at flirting in his ridiculous sailor uniform to kick-start your heart back up.

You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do. And after demodogs and slithering vines kept creeping from the past into your slumbers, normal was all you wanted.

But Steve needed you as a friend, more so considering his fallout with Tommy H and Carol had become permanent. He flirted with customers, every girl you’d recognised from your year, but never you.

It felt a good enough reason to bite your tongue. Keep him close, but never as close as you’d like.

But now you’ve done it again — been pulled along on another adventure that’s brimming with terrors that will take years to forget.

Everything feels worse this time round, a decay that ebbs away your hope. It’s somehow harder to heal from wounds that come from evil, but not the supernatural. It’s all the heavier when the boy who holds your heart made himself a punching bag so you didn’t get hurt.

The warmth of his hand, squeezing for only a moment, brings you back to the present. To now, still standing in the entryway to Steve’s house. You blink, coming back to yourself, and turn back to him. There’s a crinkle between his brow, and worry washed across his features.

“Are you okay?” He asks it tentatively like he’s afraid to spook you. It sends a rush to your system, a pleasant throb in your chest. You can’t deny you like knowing he worries. That he cares.

“Yeah,” you croak out, nodding as you speak. “Do you— I mean, you don’t mind me staying, do you?”

Suddenly, the potential embarrassment of inviting yourself in, even with the good intentions of taking care of Steve, is overwhelming. The next words tumble out without thought.

“I just, I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a bit hurried, tinged with nervousness. You stammer. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Something like pure affection blooms in Steve’s chest at your words, the heat of it stealing his breath and pain for just a moment. It’s a different sort of ache in between his ribs, something white-hot and pure.

He hadn’t been able to voice his relief when you’d gotten out of the car and stayed with him — and it fails him now at your admittance.

You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want him to be alone.

Steve doesn’t think he’s deserving of your good will, nor the kindness in every touch. He can’t help how he consumes it greedily, drinks in the touches like he knows it’ll be taken from him soon enough. His eyes stay fixed on you.

There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.

Steve’s not sure his heart has felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tied tight across his chest. He’s sure they’ll leave scorch marks, testimonies to his bleeding heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

Because you’re still here and something in his trodden on heart perks up before he remembers to crush it. It’s not that Steve has never thought of you as more — god, the mere thought of you as more to him.

More than a friend, more than this, it’s enough to make his head spin. To make his hands shake and return a nervousness to his system he hasn’t felt since sophomore year when he first laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler.

But you’re not Nancy. In the best way, that makes all the difference,

You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out break-up with Nancy — brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of this mess.

You’re still too soft for it now, and it shows in the jagged cut torn into the fabric of your skin — it doesn’t matter how it happened, Steve still feels like it’s his fault. It’ll scar, red puckered skin that twists down the expanse of your shoulder. A living reminder of the night burned into you to carry forever.

It hurts Steve maybe more than he’s warranted to. You’re both just friends.

But when Steve thinks of how he’s accidentally pulled you too close, put you first in the heart, it aches evermore.

He’s not sure when you went from barely a friend to this — you’re a crush, an Achilles heel, the unattainable from the moment he met you, the moment he knew you. Steve feels like he’s been building himself towards you, pushing his growth to aim for anywhere near enough for you. You’ve been too good for him from the start.

It doesn’t stop him from loving you.

Steve realises after a moment that he hasn’t said anything when your fingers start to slip from his. His grip tightens to keep your hand in his.

“No, I— Stay. I...” It’s a struggle to say it, too many years of suppressing any urge to ask for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone, either. Or for you to be. Stay.”

Your lips, chapped and still with a hint of blood, twitch into somewhat a smile. “Okay.”

This time it’s Steve who drags you along, both slowly moving up the stairs. Each step threatens to reopen the scabs that have only just begun to form. It’s like some micro-dose of torture, Steve thinks, hearing your winces behind him.

The fluorescence of the bathroom lights is bright enough to make your eyes fly shut. Steve’s braver, taking only a moment to pause. He ignores how the lights dance, a sickening comparison to his experience with the drugs that had barely left his system. Though it’s the last thing he wants, Steve drops your hand to begin his search.

When your eyes blink open, prepared to face the lights, you’re a bit perplexed to see Steve hunting through the linen cupboard. He produces a towel, white and fluffy.

You cringe internally at the thought of sullying the pale colour with blood but it’s but a blip in tonight’s problems. Besides, the Harrington’s could certainly afford to replace it.

“Here.” Steve murmurs. You both seem to have agreed to keep softly spoken for the night.

He presses the cotton into your hands as he walks, ready to shoulder out and take care of himself. There was an en-suite in his own room — and sure, it would hurt like hell rinsing his wounds but he’d done it last year. Blasted the heat so he was wincing at the burn atop his skin and not the ache underneath it.

“Steve?” You question, turning and halting his feet. He pauses, confused by the questioning expression on your face. He gestures to the shower, hiding how the movement makes his ribs sting painfully.

“You can shower here and- and the guest room’s all made up.” The words trip a bit on the way out, weakness beginning to weigh on his voice.

Somehow being back home crumbles his walls sooner than he’d like. Tonight has been heavy, a burden that lies thick on his shoulders and creeps down, taking root in his muscles.

But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.

“No, s’not that.” You shake your head, a strand of hair coming loose. “I... What about you?”

What about all the blood? The bruises and cuts? You’d seen the scars littered on the skin of his face from Billy, cuts that had healed wrong and left marred skin. Wounds left uncared for, only healed with time.

The question only begs more confusion from Steve. He gestures to somewhere behind him as he says, “There’s another shower, don’t worry.”

He pulls a smile to ease you. It wobbles at the ends of his mouth. Something claws into your heart, a profound heartache at the thought it doesn’t even occur to Steve to take care of himself.

“Steve,” you begin, beginning to get a sense of the wall you’re encountering.

Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength.

You don’t need his display of strength — you’re not one of the kids that needs to be shielded from the reality that even Steve has a breaking point — certainly not when his state is far worse than your own.

But you have a feeling he doesn’t know how to switch it off. Steve doesn’t seem to understand what you mean when you say you don’t want him to be alone.

“Steve, you’re not okay.”

“I’m- I’ve done this before, alright?” He insists, eyes darting between yours, features turning stonier. You can see his defensiveness begin to curl his shoulders in. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Are you?” You say, not unkind. “Tonight was— Steve, you were tortured.”

The effect of your words is instantaneous. Steve’s face falters, his icy expression dissolving with a shudder he can’t stop. You watch it warp him painfully, jaw clenching and eyes misty; he blinks furiously to clear them. You continue.

“You can’t just- just bounce back from that. Nobody can.” You shake your head as if it proves your point. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before, this— this is a lot for anyone, even—”

“Well then, why are you still here, huh!” His words interrupt your own, tone angrier than you’re expecting. “If this is so much!”

His chest rises and falls quickly, brows draw together like it hurts to breathe so harshly. The words don’t sting, but his tone does. You reel in your hurt and focus past his anger, focus on what it really is.

A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to make him deal with it so soon. But you care, too much to pretend to ignore his pain.

“Steve.”

“Don’t.” It wobbles, voice weak. His anger has already drained away in a moment.

“You’re not alright,” you insist, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mere.”

You don’t give him a choice, your free hand reaching out to snag his own, which hangs loose at his side.

Steve stumbles forward as you tug him back into the bathroom. Without his anger, he’s pliant and goes without protest. Your gentle fingers on his chest nudge him in the direction of the sink, the cool porcelain pressing through the back of his soiled Scoops top.

“Can you do something for me? Can you...” You bite your already bloody lip, nervousness sketched across your features.

How can you say this without giving too much away? It feels too intimate, like flying too close to the sun, well within the realm of potentially hurting your own feelings. You’ll do it for him gladly.

“Can you just...let me take care of you?”

It hurts like a sucker punch to the gut. Like a breath has been forced out of his chest, because when was the last time someone has asked him that?

Silence stains the air.

“It won’t be pretty.” He croaks finally, still giving you an easy out. Still prepared to spare you the ugliness of his emotions.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”

Another beat of quiet.

“Okay.” Steve breathes, so faintly you barely hear it. Then as if you’ll rescind the offer any moment, he nods fervently.

Your smile is genuine, maybe the first in hours and something in you relaxes. He won’t fight you on this. He may have taken the beating earlier for you but, at the very least, you can do your best to patch him back up — let your hidden feelings translate into a gentleness he so very deserves.

It takes only a quick rummage beneath the sink to find a first-aid kit. It feels wildly underprepared; an afterthought purchase once upon a time that was only ever intended for scraped knees. It hasn’t ever been opened. The tear of the zipper is the only noise in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.

As expected, there’s not much in it. It contains a box of plasters in multiple sizes, one roll of gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a mixture of other pills and eye drops.

Some loose safety pins rattle around in the bottom as you take inventory. It’s not stellar and you’re no doctor, but it’ll do. It has to do.

When you finally look up, wondering where to begin on his injuries, Steve is regarding you with a look you can’t quite name.

If you were sure of yourself, you might call it awe.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re here, helping him, and it can be awfully easy to mix up feelings when you’re getting stitched up. You don’t let your hopes rise, not even for a moment.

Steve’s blood sings, ears rushing with the sound of it when you step closer. You’re so damn close. Steve can’t ignore the scent that carries with you, his brain involuntarily committing each detail of you that he can get to memory - lest he never gets you this close again.

You want to take care of him; Steve thinks this might be a dream.

Nimble fingers work to gather some cotton with antiseptic and then you’re holding it up, posed, and ready to mend.

“Can you sit up on the counter?” You ask, all sweetness. Steve obliges easily, despite the protests from his sore body that cries out as he shifts up. You smile, then warn, “This might sting.”

It’s overwhelming as you step closer, between his legs, and take the cotton to his face with a gentleness Steve hasn’t felt in years. His eyes close instinctively.

It does sting. The wince leaks out through his clenched teeth, soothed instantly by your soft apologies that pour out like honey.

For a moment, it’s easier this way; with his eyes closed, Steve can pretend this is usual. That when he gets roughed around, there’s someone to tend and clean his wounds — instead of just himself and the harsh rinse of the hot shower.

He tries and fails not to think of last year, his poor attempts to patch himself up. Hands too shaky, touch too rough.

The memory bites. The injuries of tonight somehow feel worse. A tinge of bile taints his mouth and Steve swallows it back down, concentrating on you.

You’re not quite humming but soothing noises, low and soft, come from your throat. Steve’s not even sure you know you’re doing it. His hands clench emptily as his side — the split knuckles make them hurt and when you’re this close, the itch to hold you is near unbearable.

It doesn’t take long for the first cotton pad to turn a violent shade of pink. Steve’s face looks a tad clearer than before but uncovering old blood means finding new wounds.

Your stomach burns pitifully as you take them all in. There are too many to count, a thousand different hues — broken blood vessels that run in all directions, little labyrinths under his skin.

Why does it hurt so much? Even with your bound shoulder that still sends out pain with every motion, it all dulls away when you look at Steve. Lashes fluttering, eyes still closed, marred with wounds you’re begging to ease. You know it hurts so much because you care.

Love is pain, you suppose, with only a twinge of bitterness. It’s swallowed instantly, consumed and disintegrated by the fact you get this. The boy you love, between both palms, trusting you to take care of him.

A year ago, you’d met only the steely exterior he’d put up — and thought it had simply been remnants of King Steve. Maybe Steve Harrington was as much of an asshole as half the town said.

He was all bite, glowers, and clipped answers. With time though, he’d softened like snow melting in the sun; all the parts of him trickling into your life until he was cemented by your side.

He hadn’t even let you patch him up after the scrap with Billy that had taken him out. You hadn’t felt you could ask.

But this time...your throat grows a bit thicker at the trust that binds the pair of you. Affection rushes your system and forces a sharp inhale from your lungs. You step back.

The space makes it easier to breathe. Dials down the chances of pressing your lips against his skin — if only to give him a mark born of love. Hands searching through the first-aid kit again, you produce some painkillers and locate an arnica pill.

You give yourself one more moment; inhale and withhold the tidal wave of devotion that begs to spill from within you.

“Take these, please.” You say quietly, uncurling one of his fists to press the pills into. He swallows them dry.

You prep more cotton and begin again with the gentle touches, coaxing off dried blood. This time, Steve’s eyes stay open. He watches you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.

Steve’s chest grows tight. Something about you being here, taking care of him makes the night’s memories all too present. Nausea sways in his gut. It’s impossible to shove them to the back, to press them down, when it feels like each cut is being reopened. Cleansed with a douse of love.

You’re altering the history of each wound but to do so, he has to recall how each of them was carved into his skin. It hurts. Why are you still here?

Steve’s head pulls back unexpectedly, eyes shuttering closed in a scrunched expression. You startle a bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry — too harsh?”

He makes a strained noise, effectively gutting you with it. If you weren’t so close — an inch further and you could press your forehead to his — you wouldn’t hear it. Hear the tiny whisper that scratches out the word, “Why?”

“What?” You whisper. You don’t understand.

“Why...Why are you...?” He’s clearly struggling to find the words he wants. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the bridge of his nose before he drops it again. His chin quivers. It stops your heart for a moment to realise he’s crying.

“I don’t— I don’t understand.” Steve grinds the words out, voice thick. A tear splatters, seeping into the blue of his uniform. He won’t look at you, eyes trained on the loose thread on his shorts.

“Steve?” you murmur, wary and heavy with concern. This is— you don’t know what this is.

“I don’t understand.” He repeats, shaking his head slightly. He seems to choke on the next words. “You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody...”

He trails off, some whimper of sorts forcing its way out his throat. You’re stuck, absorbing each of his words and putting together the pattern that Steve can’t seem to voice. I don’t understand. You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody... Everybody leaves.

Oh.

Rich King Steve who’s got it all. The house, the car, and any girl he fancies, all of them fawning for a look from him at one of his legendary parties.

His lack of parental supervision had been lusted over in high school, furious whispers of envy over the fact he could get away with parties every weekend. That booze went missing and he never seemed to catch any shit for it. It occurs to you now that nobody was around to notice.

The absence in his life is vast and suddenly blindingly obvious — a chasm in his chest that is bleeding all his secrets to you.

Steve Harrington is lonely.

When you surge forward, injuries be damned, and your arms loop around his neck, there’s a moment of stillness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, hear his ragged inhale, and then— he sags into you, finally, finally letting himself lean on someone else.

His arms wind around your middle in a desperate motion, tugging you closer and the fabric of your shirt clenches between his fingers. His face buries in your neck and hot wet tears soak the collar of your shirt. You can hear his raspy noises, soft cries as he clings to you like a lifeline.

“Why did this happen to me?”

It fucking hurts to hear. You don’t know how to tell him there’s no why — that there is no reason that can justify why he’s gone through this much suffering. Just the bitter fact that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people.

“Steve,” you feel like you’re saying his name an awful lot tonight. You say it because you can’t begin to think of how to answer his heartbreaking question. “I—“

“I-I used to think,” The words are muffled into your neck. His grip on you is nearly tight enough to hurt but you don’t dare relent any space. His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear. “That- that it was like karma, yanno?”

“Steve, no,” you whisper, horrified. If he hears you, he doesn’t show.

“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”

Something twists painfully in your stomach.

“And then last year, it made sense, yeah? Billy, he was— a real piece of work.” He sniffs again, his voice a little harder at the mention of the deceased.

The tension falls away at the next sentence, voice wobbling through the thickness in his throat. “And I used to be like that, so—“

You pull back instantly, hands shifting back from around his neck. It effectively halts him, and whatever he was saying dies in his throat. Your hands move to cradle his jaw and, as lightly as you can with his injuries, you tug him from his hiding place and stare him in the face.

Steve’s eyes look bigger and browner full of tears. His nose is red, just the tip, and runs messily at the onslaught of tears. Pink splotches bloom underneath his cheeks, patchy and warm, his face etched in complete misery.

It wrecks you to see. More so to think he’s been shouldering all this alone since ‘83.

“People don’t deserve suffering, Steve.” You state it strongly enough that he can’t refute the truth, punctuating with your thumbs on either cheek, pressing light touches.

“You don’t deserve suffering. You never did.” Your voice quivers a bit, some shred of your heart shriveling pathetically at the fact you even need to tell him this. Your hands shake ever-so-slightly. A hot tear streaks down your cheek.

Steve crumbles. You don’t resist when he drops his head down, only move back in— offering a place to hide away again. You let him stay hidden away, a sanctuary in your arms, safe when he’s buried in the curve of your neck.

“And- and just ‘cause,” you say, sniffling a bit now. He holds his breath, a sharp inhale that quietens his whimpering crying. “Just ‘cause no one has stayed before doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this, Steve.”

His fingers press harsher into your back and your feet stumble a bit, pulled off balance. Adjusting your arms, you pull him tighter yet, hoping that the closeness will make all your sentiments seep in. Your shoulder aches terribly; you don’t dare move away.

“You know that, right?” You whisper, unable to stop your fingers from grazing the nape of his neck softly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

A soft kiss to the side of his head, barely noticeable between his shakes, but it eases the strain on your heart. Time wanes and melts beneath the glow of the bathroom lights, an unending amount of tears that you suspect reach back further than just the memories of tonight.

You stay like this, holding him close. You give him all the time he needs, sweet nothings mumbled until he feels strong enough to face you— to face the world.

Eventually, Steve’s breathing slows, crying turning to trembling gasps. When he finally does retreat, you curse internally because of course, only Steve Harrington can still look devastatingly beautiful after crying.

Tears cling to his lashes, sparkling reflections. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

Silence ebbs. Steve gathers himself, another sniff, and wipes his nose before he lifts his head. You can see in his face the moment he’s about to apologise; the word sorry is about to come tripping out his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry to inspire more tears,” Your voice, still quiet, aims for a comforting jest. “But I’m not quite done cleaning you up.”

You twist the cotton between your fingers to show him. Steve blinks, eyes focusing on your hand, perhaps surprised you’re still taking care of him. He forgets about his needless apologies.

“Though, your tears did a lot of the work.” You say cheekily, a smile teasing at the edges of your lips. It makes him huff a laugh. Steve could nearly cry again; you’re so nice. He thinks about the last time cried, thinks about Tommy’s sneer, his scoffed words that told him toughen up, King Steve.

He lets you wipe them away, clear his face and patch it up as best you can. Any tension from before, the mental barb-wire defenses he had still held up to keep you out, has ebbed away. It’s softer now, easier between you two.

Trust flows from Steve in the form of his allowance, letting you fuss. It flows from you in the form of your touch, which still dances too close for just friends. You let your fingers dot the kisses across his face since you can’t.

“You’re good at this,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. He allows himself the privilege of your touch, his fingers burning where they graze your sides.

Patching people up? Injuries from last year made sure you got decent practice on yourself. You’re decent, you’ll admit.

Maybe he means taking care of him. You’re proving to be very good at that.

You want to. Somewhere rooted in feelings that sway closer to love, genuine love, is the urge to be the one who does it. The shoulder to cry on, the one who carries his woes when it gets too much — and you want him to do the same for you. Achingly, you want to take care of him; and him, you.

The thought burns so viciously through your chest, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip a bit meanly. It stings.

You don’t notice it, trying to rein in your drifting heart that sings to be closer to him, but Steve does. His fingers twitch; he wants to rescue it, pull it from your harsh grip with his thumb.

He does.

You stop moving.

His thumb is calloused, a bit rough against the supple plumpness of your bottom lip. The blood beneath it tingles, gloriously hot at the attention. Either all the air in the room has been sucked out or you’ve stopped breathing.

You’d hazard a guess it’s the second, given the stillness your body has taken on. Muscles locked, eyes frozen on his face — the only part of you that moves is your heart, thundering pumps going far too fast.

Steve’s gaze stays on his thumb on your lip. You’re desperate to find out what to call the emotion swimming in his eyes.

“Steve?” you say his name yet again, lips moving against his thumb. He blinks like a frog, one eye after the other, and drags his gaze up to your eyes.

His hand shifts, brushing across your mouth to hold the side of your jaw, cupping it sweetly. The cotton falls from your grip as Steve urges you closer with a gentle tug.

Then his eyes are back on your lips and even though it feels like slicing your own heart open to do it, you speak before he can kiss you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, eyes crushing closed.

You want to terribly. The want for his kiss warbles from deep within you, a yawning ache. But it might just finish you off if it’s all heat of the moment — a kiss that is just some twisted thank-you because Steve isn’t used to being taken care of.

You clear your throat, swallowing heavily. “Not— not if it’s just for tonight. Not just because I stayed, please.”

There’s a pause. His shaky exhale breezes across your face. It’s possible your ears might be ringing as if straining to hear the sound of Steve’s heart— dying for a clue to what he’s feeling. You’re not brave enough to open your eyes and read it in his face.

His thumb scrapes across your bottom lip again and then— then, he kisses you, impossibly tender.

The tiny gasp that escapes you is consumed instantly, swallowed up by Steve’s kiss. He kisses gentle, touch so soft that it has you searching for more the moment you’ve got a taste of it.

You barely get a moment to lean into it, to kiss him back before Steve breaks it. He hovers close, close enough that you could steal another taste of his lips if you wanted. You want to— the ferocity of your eagerness sends a shiver along your spine. He speaks before you seize the opportunity.

“I want to.” He says, voice a bit raspy and the words inspire enough bravery to look at him, eyes creasing open. “I- I’ve wanted to for a while.”

You nearly sink in your relief, knees trembling for a moment as your hand comes up to enclose the wrist of the hand that holds your face. Thumb sweeping short strokes, you clutch the tan skin and lean into his caress.

“You mean it?” You whisper, far too excited. Your heart may as well be on your sleeve, cards once played close to your chest now splayed on the table. Your tone reveals all, spilling with hope, even as you ask whether it means the same to him as it does to you.

Yes. The word seems stuck in his throat, suddenly too thick to speak. Because it’s only three letters and that can’t possibly cover what Steve means when he says I’ve wanted to for a while.

That you’d somehow snuck into his life and intertwined among all of his heartstrings, like spun gold mixing until the whole organ felt terribly tangled in a way he’d never want to change.

Nancy had given him the thump of his head.

But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.

“I mean it.” He says, emotion coating each word. “Yes, god, I really mean it.”

And you let him tell you over and over again with his mouth pressed to yours, searing kisses that make your head dizzy and pulse speed.

Steve knows he’s not alright — not physically or mentally after what he’s faced tonight, not with the vice grip on his chest that had clung tightly and all the ugly parts of him had all slithered out for you to see.

He also knows that he will be alright, sometime in the far future.

When wounds have healed, when scars are beginning to fade, and the nightmares start being every couple of nights, instead of every night, then he’ll be nearly okay. It’ll take time, lots of it.

But when your gentle hands coax him to bed and you slip beneath the covers beside him, leaving a warm quick kiss upon his shoulder — Steve thinks that, maybe, that future isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.

Your hand finds his under the sheets, twisting your fingers together to act like an anchor in the inkiness of the night.

There are no nightmares that night.

—

tags below! @hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @spideystevie look technically there’s no tags this is just all da bitches i’m always talking to <3

#if anyone talks to me about tenses i'll come out SWINGING #not even grammarly could help me w that <3 #hopefully HOPEFULLY this is considered in character steve #in any case i spent a wee while puzzling interactions & reactions so at least u know i tried !#its hard to pick a relationship dynamic that would work for him being surprised ur here??? while also getting a lil confession in there #i think its cute #maybeeeee lemme know what u think? hehe #anyways steve HONEY u deserve to have someone kiss all the wounds #and let u sob in their arms and yanno i VOLUNTEER #GIVE HIM TO ME AND ILL TREAT HIM RIGHT!!!#babygirl cries in this... heartbreaking but had to happen #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve #harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve fic #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #wahoo #i cannot help but post fics the moment they are finished #idc if its like thursday for all u fuckers #come get ur hurt/comfort nowwww

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imma-devil · 2 years

Text

Whole Lotta Love | e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: 18+ Smut (MINORS DNI), Weed, Swearing

Summary: Eddie admires you and that admiration brought you from acquaintances to close friends. However, the two of you know that you feel something more. The question is, are you going to do something about it?

Tags: No use of (y/n), mentions of weed, swearing, pining, somewhat established friendship, a little friends to lovers, smut, some fluff, sub!Eddie, shy Eddie, gentle!dom!reader, oral (male!receiving), oral (female!receiving), handjob, spit as lube, grinding, dry humping, making out, face sitting :) , thighssss, biting, slight choking (male!receiving), consent is hot, aftercare is hot, hands free ;) , little proofreading.

Word count: 3,800+

Author’s Note: I was having a difficult time finding what I was looking for, so I just said “Fuck it,” and made my own.

Part 2

Please do not steal or copy my work. Don’t repost without credit. This is my written work everything besides the character belongs to me.

Eddie Munson was considered a freak among his classmates at Hawkins High. Generally, one would expect that this perception came from his loud outbursts in the hallways or when he stood on top of desks to announce his opinions to the world. However, people took one look at his zeppelin style with rings adorned on each finger and his hair cast in untempered curls to make their opinion. He didn’t worry himself over these misconceptions for the most part because he believed it was out of his control. At first, after his buzz cut days, he turned to the ‘rocker’ look to hopefully turn this around; when his results seemed to be lacking, he wielded his sense of style as a statement and wore it proudly once he grew further into his non-conformist attitude. But what he didn’t get, was why was it so different when it came to you? Your sense of style nearly mirrored his own―ripped jeans, ribbed shirts with faded band logos, jean jackets, and leather boots. Chains chimed while you walked. Your nails, plastered in a veil of black ink. You too had small tattoos that cascaded your skin. Yet, people were not nearly as unwelcoming as they were when it came to him.

You weren’t exponentially popular—you were no king Steve, Tommy H, or Chrissy Cunningham. But, you were well-liked―and you weren’t treated like the plague as often as he was. He had seen you laugh with band ‘geeks’ and have your arms around cheerleaders. He watched you jokingly argue with those on the basketball team and read quietly with members of the high school post. Yet, most often, he saw you alone.

The two of you weren’t friends, but you’ve certainly spoken before. In a small town, such as Hawkins, it would be impossible not to. But, you hadn’t spoken out of necessity―you had actually mingled. The first time you spoke was in elementary school, likely about something minuscule, like him asking you for a pencil. The first time you spoke in HIGH SCHOOL was when you caught him by surprise at his locker. You just happened to be passing by when you turned on your heel and got his attention. You complimented his Hellfire Club shirt and asked where he got it from―

Fleeting conversations were passed here and there. But, once the two of you started hanging out at the same scene together, puzzle pieces began to fall into place. Your friendship grew over the passing of joints... Cassettes were exchanged. Movies were watched. He wore one of your engraved rings on his pinky and you wore his blocky, metallic ring on your index finger. You helped him study for exams, listened to the recordings of his band, and smoked with him inside his trailer. Long, deep conversations were held atop his mattress while listening to Megadeth, Judas Priest, and Motorhead on his stereo.

―and it was that exact setting, which led you to where you were now. A beat-up, paperback copy of Doctors Wear Scarlett by Simon Raven was in your hand while you laid with your back to the mattress. Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin was playing through the stereo’s strained and garbled speakers... not that you could really make out the words―because Eddie was purposefully shouting over the lyrics in a whiny voice while plucking at the strings of his guitar. Every once in a while, he would chuckle at his own antics and lose composure, causing you to laugh along as well. For the majority of the song, you were too amused with Eddie’s singing that you simply mumbled along with the lyrics so that you could listen. But, you grew distracted and somewhat bored of the book and allowed yourself to belt out some of the lyrics in synch with the wild boy next to you. This almost instantly shut him up to where he abandoned his yelling so he could try and sing in tune with you. You shut your eyes and swayed your head into the lyrics while dramatizing your enthusiasm for the song. Eddie watched as your nose scrunched with your singing and he couldn’t help but smile at the observation.

He cast his hand over your face and gingerly placed his thumb upon your nose, using it to press your nose into a pig-like shape.

Instinctively you smacked his hand away, laughing lightly at the situation.

He watched as you placed your book down on the bed and rolled onto your stomach. Your eyes fell on the place where he was sitting up against the bedpost―and the position caused him to feel increasingly more self-aware.

“Play something,” you said through a slanted smirk.

“I don’t know,” Eddie teased while looking down, “―you put me on the spot here.”

“C’mon rockstar!” you egged on after playfully shoving his leg, “I wanna hear a song.”

Eddie hoisted himself up to where he sat straighter against the headboard and hovered his hand over the strings with lingering anticipation. After a moment’s hesitation, he began plucking the strings without tune or rhythm, occasionally adding in made-up lyrics along the way.

When your face fell into the mattress in a faux annoyance, he stuttered into a laugh.

You muttered out “Dumbass,” which was muffled by the comforter. But, Eddie was only amused by the empty insults. He eventually lowered his guitar to where it rested against his bedside table. With nothing left to do with his hands, he found himself twirling your ring on his finger.

A whole song played without either of the teens speaking any words into existence. You had spent those two minutes drifting your attention between the lyrics, the sound of a tv from across the lot, and the movements of the ring on Eddie’s finger. You registered that the ring was yours, but to confirm it, you reached out and stilled the motion of his hand with your own. With his skin beneath yours, you maneuvered his hand to take a closer look at the ring... and sure enough, it was yours. In a show of camaraderie, you curled your fingers into a fist to display his ring that was donned on your index finger. But, when you looked up to gauge his expression, you found the face of a man that seemed to be absolutely enthralled by your being. You were well aware that your feelings for one another were beyond friendship; whether those feelings were lust, or something more, was beyond you. If someone were to ask why you didn’t act on those feelings sooner―you wouldn’t be able to give a definitive answer. Perhaps, you wanted to preserve the friendship that you shared? However, since the opportunity presented itself, why not just take it?

So, with his hand still being held within yours, you lowered it to the mattress at his side. Your arm was crossed over his waist, and you used the momentum to pull yourself to a crouch with your face hovering over his. You paced yourself, allowing him plenty of time to reject the action. Though, you doubt he would, considering the way that his eyes are glued to yours with a sense of desperation and longing that's swirling within his irises. You ask anyway—

“Do you want this?” you spoke in a voice that was low and languid, but loud enough to be heard with clarity.

Eddie nodded with the slightest movement, which could’ve gone unnoticed.

With your face creeping closer to his, you watch as his gaze falls to your lips. “I need you to say it,” you whisper as tenderly as you can muster.

He shudders a breathy sigh before emitting a barely audible “...yes.” You watch as if he retracts in embarrassment. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and his eyes flit away for a moment.

Just as you close the distance, he grinds down on his bottom lip with his teeth in a display of control―as if he were reeling himself back in. But, then that same ferocity is transferred into the kiss that you share. You breathe him in for a moment, regaining control, as you force him to slow to your pace. You can feel his neediness through the quickening of his breath while his hand comes up to cup your cheek. His fingertips tease slightly at the hair on your neck. Eddie’s other arm hooks around the small of your back, subsequently pulling you close to where you sit on his lap. All the while, your lips work together and you feel the passing touches of your tongues as you lap at his muffled moans. Drawing each sound from his mouth is as easy as it is bringing a pencil to paper.

Your hand breaks away from the mattress to glide lightly across his skin. Traveling up his arm, pausing slightly to appreciate the rise of his chest, and slowing to a stop in order to caress the base of his neck. He cranes forward, seeking out your touch. A moan falls from his lips as you snug his neck further into your gasp; causing you to make a blissful sound as you quickly latch a kiss to his jaw. Apparently, the spot is sensitive, as he ruts up into you.

“Sorry,” He quickly apologizes. But, the eagerness of his words allowed him no time to adjust... so his voice came out weak and desperate.

Rather than give him a worded reply, you simply reciprocated the action. Using your hips, you rolled yourself onto the growing bulge in his tight jeans. Eddie’s response was a choked gasp, that he promptly muffled by clasping his teeth onto your shoulder.

“Fuck,” Eddie uttered into your shoulder with shaky fluctuations.

You repeated the action, enjoying how he pressed his face further into the crook of your neck.

You pushed away some of his curls, to further reveal the expanse of his exposed neck. Peppering it with kisses, each one growing wetter and more lasting, before you finally sucked on the pulse beneath his skin. Eddie was beginning to meet your hips with perfectly timed, slow thrusts... and he resigned himself to becoming a moaning mess. So instead of hiding his pleasured sounds, he opted to let his mouth hang open and you felt his warm, needy breaths fan against your neck.

You loved listening to the small curses that drifted along with the air, getting lost in the music from the stereo.

All Eddie could focus on was the heat that was repeatedly grinding against him, your lips and tongue working against his skin, and the buzzing in his ears that was seemingly melting his brain. It was like his senses were going haywire, so all he could do to ground himself was relentlessly nip and kiss at the skin that was available to him. Each time he heard your breath hitch, he grew more desperate and came further undone beneath you. So when you suddenly stopped moving against him, he couldn’t help the whine that was ripped from his throat.

Before he could plead for you to continue, you whispered with a breathy voice that mirrored his own cracking composure. “Do you want to take this further?”

“Yes!—” the word practically leaped off his tongue and another string of yeses followed, each showing more longing and making you more aware of the ache that he felt.

You both didn’t seem capable of moving away from one another, but with one look at Eddie’s blown-out pupils, it was like your composure was restored. You prided yourself in the mess that you made him become. So, despite the damp and seething heat that you felt, you took it slow. So. Very. Slow.

You popped open the button of your jeans, leaning back on your weight, which in turn caused him to release a groan. You broke away for a moment to remove your pants, in which Eddie did the same in record time. The movement―having caused him to lay down rather than be seated. If it weren’t for the stagnant tension, you would’ve laughed at the way his hands flew to his belt and ripped it from the loops of his jeans. How his fingers launched at his zipper and yanked the fabric from his legs. Once his legs were bare besides his briefs, you mounted his waist again. This time his eyes shot to your underwear and he gingerly slid his hands to your thighs. His unwavering stare should make you nervous, but his unfiltered desire simply goads you on. He hooks both of his thumbs beneath the fabric, pulling it ever-so-slightly to where it tightens into the skin but reveals the bareness of your thighs. It’s as if he’s teasing himself with the glimpse of you, and it's one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen.

You place your hand on his abdomen just above his waist, and he jolts at the sudden stimulation. He looks up at you and nearly swoons at the smirk on your face. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was blushing—so he rests his arm over his face to hide whatever embarrassment that could be seen in his features. But it quickly becomes a way to control himself when you slip your fingers beneath his shirt and grind your nails up his skin. The further you reach, the more you lean on his throbbing cock, and once again his breath is picking up, and he doubts you haven’t noticed.

Your hand lingers for a moment, traveling along his chest, applying pressure to just the right places, before it comes back down. Slowly trailing down his torso and reaching his lower stomach. He thought you’d stop there, but your fingers hook in the seam of his briefs and he could swear that he stopped breathing. And, just while he was so focused on the left hand, your right comes up his leg in a gentle caress. The very tip of your nails, skim the sensitive area of his inner thigh and he flinches. You chuckle at the reaction―and instantly Eddie becomes simultaneously the horniest and most humiliated person alive. He buries his face deeper into the curl of his arm to the point where he could suffocate himself if he wished and strongly grips your thigh in his other hand. He can’t see you, but he feels it when you lift yourself off of him and sit further down his legs. The movement distracts him, so when you palm him through his briefs, he hisses into his arm. He grinds up to meet your hand as you hear him sigh into the motion―and he’s too caught up in the one sensation that he still lingers on it, even as you pull down his waistband. His dick springs forward to land against his abdomen, where you hear a damp slap from the precum that’s weeping from the tip; which is an angry pink, begging to be touched.

Eddie wouldn’t lie, he definitely felt a little shy at the fact that he was so exposed to the girl that he had been crushing on for longer than he could remember. He had admired you from afar for so long. When you became friends, he never expected that the two of you would be here—even with the constant flirting, it had only ever been a game. So, with his face still tucked in his arm, he moved it the slightest bit so that he could see you through a space where he’d still be hidden from view.

He watched as you took one finger, and pressed it into the leaking liquid. When you pulled it away, a string of it followed... and he throbbed when he saw you take the fluid into your mouth. He moaned in anticipation as he watched you swipe your hand with your tongue—and the moan only grew when you brought that same hand to his cock. With one pump, you brought your hand to the base and his hips slowly coiled up to meet the friction. With your other hand, you pushed against his waist to bring him back down to the bed, and he groaned defiantly.

His eyes gave you their undivided attention when you hovered your face, lined up with him in your hand. He watched with an unbroken stare as a dribble of spit fell from your mouth and the warm texture coated his dick. His mouth lay open in a silent moan, which was revitalized as soon as your hand was set into motion. Your name tumbled from his lips, abandoned at the last syllable because his voice was lost in a whine. His neck strained backward and he revealed his face from behind his arm because he used it to card his fingers through his hair.

You pumped in slow movements, twisting your grip at the head, sounding lewd noises, which worked harmoniously with his haggard breaths. Each time your hand hooked beneath the head, his core muscles twitched, creating a wonderful sight to play witness to. Eddie still tried to fuck into your hand, but his pleasurable moans turned into frustrated ones when your other hand kept him from doing so. He closed his eyes for a moment to bask in the sensation—but quickly made himself vulnerable when you ran your tongue up the underside of his cock in one fluid movement. His whole body jolted and he gasped—turning into a string of low, breathy moans when you took him into your mouth. You continued to stroke the base of him with your hand—loving the sounds that emitted from him.

“Ugh— God,” he groaned with his eyes screwed shut. His voice hollowed to whisper, “...Just like that.”

Eddie lost himself for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his ring-clad hand, and letting his fingers clasp in a tuff of his curly hair. But, by sheer force of will, he clung on to any senses that he could find.

“...wait.” he croaked, “Wait—don’t!”

You slowed to a stop, then pulled him from your mouth with a questioning and concerned gaze. “What’s wrong?”

With the most unconvincing voice ever, Eddie groaned out: “I don’t wanna cum.”

His eyes were shut in both pleasure and an attempt at self-control. One of his hands reached out in your direction, searching for you. You were caught up in the sight of his heavy rising chest, but you met his touch with your hand. You could feel his gentle pull, and you realized that he wanted you to move with him. You followed his guiding tug to sit on his chest—and you were about voice your confusion until he lifted you to sit above his face in one, unexpected display of strength.

“I want you,” He said, finally opening his eyes for you to see that his brown irises were cast over fully in a dark shadow of lust. His eyes were lidded, his eyelashes long and far too pretty that you didn’t catch yourself before you brushed over them with your thumb.

Eddie pulled on your panties, though not fully, still awaiting your permission.

“Go ahead, pretty boy...” You smiled warmly down at the pussy whipped man beneath you.

He hummed in approval before tugging your panties aside. You could feel him rut up into nothing, just by seeing you. Both of his arms embraced your thighs, where he guided you into a snug seat upon his face. He lapped at your heat, groaning at the taste, before all but burying his tongue into you. His tongue moved at a steady pace, curling inside of you; his own hips thrusting in a synchronized motion while his imagination substituted his tongue for his throbbing dick. You could feel the vibrations of his moans and occasional curses. The fact that he was feeling so much while treating you was charging the neural impulses in your brain; each shuddering breath, each moan, each whine, and each crane of his hips was making his tongue feel all the better. Moans started to pool out from you with each sound that he made—

He was riding on the high of his brain melting while he laid between your thighs; and he thought that if you moved just a little closer, he would float on the welcomed lack of oxygen. Which is why he used his arms to press himself into you, the veins beneath his skin straining to keep you close. He could just barely feel the waistband of his briefs against the base of his aching cock, and he searched desperately for any friction while he rutted up against the fabric. He thought of how you’d feel, engulfing him within your warmth, holding you close as he spent himself inside of you. His eyes rolled in the back of his head just thinking about it.

“Eddie—” You said with a voice that was breathy, yet filled with grit. “I’m close.”

His hips stuttered with those two words.

You jolted into a moan—which was low and drawled out like a purr—His name on your tongue and your fingers tangled in Eddie’s hair. You came to, just in time to see Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head as he lapped up what you had to offer.

When he finally unlatched himself from you, his breath was coming out in loud pants. It took you a moment to notice the ashamed look in his eyes, but once you did, you immediately took action.

Rising away from his face slightly, you took his cheek in your hand. “Eddie, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t respond, instead, he gave a guilty smile and turned into the side of your thigh as if to peek out from behind it.

You were about to fully get up so you could grant him some space, but he promptly held you in place. You began to notice that he was blushing—the tip of his visible ear was turning bright pink and his cheeks were dusted in the same shade. Somehow, it clicked for you...

“...Did you— cum?” You asked, pausing to allow a smile to creep onto your face.

Eddie simply buried his face further—this time, causing his hair to cover the remnants of his face that your thigh could not.

You could tell, he felt embarrassed and somewhat self-conscious about what had happened. So, rather than teasing him about it, which you would definitely do in a less sensitive situation, you coddled him a bit. Leaning down, you placed a feather-light kiss on the top of his head. When he remained hidden, you kiss him again...and again...and again... and eventually, he was coaxed out of his shell.

“I think it’s hot,” you cooed through a smirk.

Eddie groaned, smooshing his face as he rubbed it with his hands. Remnants of a blush, still strong on his skin.

“―like really... really hot” You grinned, kissing the hand that covered his face.

He groaned again, though you could tell he was smiling.

After a slight pause, you reached forward and gripped each of his hands in one of your own before clearing them from his face. You held them down above his head and gazed lovingly into his eyes...His eyes still reflected insecurity, but you met his lips with yours, hoping to convey your feelings in a warm kiss. He did his best to intertwine his fingers with yours, smiling when he felt your rings clink together.

#eddie munson #stranger things #friends to lovers #smut #female!reader #reader imagine #dom!reader #gentle dom #dom/sub #sub!eddie munson #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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jackfrombaskinrobbins · 1 year

Text

adopting a pet with the avengers!

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 911

request: yes / no

original request: hello good fellow. can you do a headcanon set on adopting a pet with the avengers? thanks

dynamic: avengers x teen!reader (teenage avenger series)

characters: mainly tony stark, scott lang, reader, peter parker, harley keener, miles morales, and bruce banner!

a/n: bucky + alpine = fave duo ever. OK maybe natasha & liho too. and clint and lucky. there are so many good pets already in marvel (usually just comics tho smh) so i had some stuff to go off of. THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST i loved writing it <3

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind

(fill out this form to be on my taglist!)

-----------------------✰----------------------

you had been BEGGING tony to let you get another pet

bc a few of them already lived at the tower

lucky, liho, and alpine

but you wanted a dog.

not just any dog

specifically a puppy

and miles, peter & harley were on ur side

especially harley bc he rly wanted a dog

so one day when tony got rly tired of y’all asking him, he came up with an idea

“tell you what. how about you kids make a petition. if you can get a decent amount of signatures, i’ll consider getting you a puppy.”

and that was good with u!!

i mean u were all taking government class at midtown so this was gonna be easy

the first person you went to was scott

bc he’s scott, he wasn’t gonna have an issue with a puppy right

right?????

but when you asked him, he seemed kind of sad for some reason.

and when you asked him why?

“well, it’s just… i don’t want my ants to feel left out.”

“scott, i don’t think they would feel left out. you love those things more than anything!”

“yeah.. you’re right. ant-onio banderas won’t be mad right? or ant-ibacterial? oh, hopefully if they’re mad, it won’t be permen-ANT!!!”

you got the signature and left asap because once scott says one pun he takes like hours to figure out another

love him though

so next you went to clint

and he was more than happy to sign!!

bc ofc lucky would love a little friend

and natasha was there too

she was a little more hesitant bc liho is rly sweet but kinda skittish

but you convinced her because you told her how cute it would be if they loved each other & like you could get the cute stock photos of a dog & a cat together or something

thor was totally on board

because he’s thor ofc

and thor loves puppies

“y/n, this is so exciting! i remember when i got my first pet!! well, it turned out to be loki in disguise. it was still very exciting, though!!”

oh btw miles and peter signed

they were ur first signatures!!!!!!

next up was sam, bucky, and steve

and you and harley decided you needed a little extra push to convince them

so you made a powerpoint presentation.

and it was awesome

like you may have used every single available transition

twice

maybe three times each

like i said it was awesome

maybe a little excessive

but awesome!!!

steve kept making you go back a slide because he was taking notes

TAKING NOTES

what a nerd, am i right???

jk we love steve rogers in this house

anyways then they deliberated

and they made you and harley go stand outside the room

it literally felt like shark tank you guys

well not the standing outside while they decide but still

but they signed it yippee!!!!

bruce and wanda signed quickly too

especially bruce was really excited

i feel like he would totally be a dog person

like he prob had a puppy when he was young that he really loved

you even went over to the sanctum sanctorum to get stephen and wong to sign it!!!

and they did!!!

well wong did

and then he forged strange’s signature for you

wong supremacy fr

you were on a roll

you got aunt may to sign it. you got phil coulson to sign it (pretend he’s alive oml sry yall) you got maria hill to sign it.

hell, nick fury even signed it!!!!

so you took it back to tony

and he was like

“woah this is a lot more than i expected”

AND SO HE TOOK YOU TO GET A PUPPY!!

and y’all

you and peter, harley, and miles found the cutest one

a little german shepard

w like the floppy ears & stuff?

oml he was so cute

tony kept saying his named was tony jr

but you told him no

but he kept saying it

ok, live in ur fantasy world ig stark!!!!

jk love him

anyways you named him max!!!

bc yes!!!!

and you took him back to the tower

thor was really excited and max like totally loved him from the start fr

any time he liked ripped up the furniture or smth thor would just hold him with one hand and take him around

but he was happy so he was like wagging his tail and stuff

sam and bucky looked like they didn’t like the dog at first

but then alpine was like obsessed with it and so bucky had to like him

and max kept sitting on sam and licking him

and he was like “omg stop”

but he was laughing so you knew you were good

tony and bruce even built a little spot for max in the lab

and a bunch of like cool toys for him

max was the perfect dog for y’all bc like he loved everyone and everyone loved him

every night he slept in a new room & he loved to play

he ran with y’all too when you had to run so it was way more fun

suddenly dr strange was over at the tower a lot more…

he’s such a softie

and scott loved him too they were best friends

tony was just proud of himself for “teaching you to be good citizens”

HAHAHA

dw y’all he loved the dog too

just trust that max is the most spoiled dog EVER!!

-----------------------✰----------------------

#avengers x teen!reader #teenage avenger series #teenage avenger #avengers #avenger headcanons #mcu #marvel #mcu headcanons #marvel headcanons #clint barton #tony stark #sam wilson #bucky barnes #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #scott lang #stephen strange #wong

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stevetonyweekly · 11 days

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SteveTony Weekly - April 7 - Week 14

Welcome to April, y’all. Here’s what I read this week--hopefully you find something to enjoy!

all I ever knew of love by mistymountainking

For six months, nobody knew that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were dating.

Which means no one knows they broke up six weeks ago.

***

a prompt fill for ishipallthings on tumblr, who asked for Steve/Tony + exes AU.

I really love the idea of Tony being the one frightened to go public, and especially the reasons behind it in this one. The pining was delicious and the angst made it all hurt in the best way possible.

Some Kind of Personal War by sara_holmes

And Tony realizes that working out who the Winter Soldier used to be and who he is now are two entirely different things.

This and the next on the list need to be read in order, they’re a series featuring BuckyCap, Winter Soldier Steve and Tony trying very hard to help. All three are so in character it’s amazing, especially considering the twist to roles. I love the slow development to Steve and Tony’s relationship and how very earned it felt.

I'll Draw this Line (and hope you take my side.) by sara_holmes

Steve Rogers is the Winter Soldier. He has his missions, he had his orders, he has his place in the world. If people would just stop reminding him about that time he was Captain America, it would be a lot easier to stay in that damn place.

Continuing the story from Steve’s POV, makes SKOPW seem like a walk in the park. This one hurts so much, y’all. But it’s definitely worth it to watch Steve’s journey.

The Wrong Side of These Sheets by Demerite

Tony keeps sleeping with his team mates. Or on them. Or next to them. Really, he just happens to sleep a lot in very close proximity to members of his team.

It's possible that Steve has come to the wrong conclusion about this, and Tony's complete and utter inability to act like a mature human being around Steve probably doesn't help matters.

At this point even Coulson wants to take action about this, because things are becoming, quite frankly, ridiculous.

MISUNDERSTANDINGS! BEDSHARING AND MISUNDERSTANDINGS and poor Steve being so confused and sad. It’s short and sweet and perfect.

here to stay by meidui

Tony likes these damn kids even though they're a handful. Not his handful as much as they're Steve’s, mind you, but still.

He offers his help where Steve comes up short and he really is getting on great with the kids, but for some reason, Steve seems to tense up whenever he gets too close.

Steve being so protective and worried and Tony trying to make sense of it and help is everything to me. That they find their way without hurting each is even more. Read it.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

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steddieunderdogfics · 2 months

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: @estrellami-1! Most of their works are on tumblr, but they have three on Archive of Our Own in the Stranger Things fandom. You can find all of their tumblr works here.

@finntheehumaneater recommends the following works by @estrellami-1:

If I Should Stay

(Push Away the) Lonely Times

Soft Touch Baby

I’m nominating them because they are just a delight to talk to, and such a creative writer. Honestly, the way they describe things is beautiful and I can see it so clearly in my head. Any character they write is written to PERFECTION. They’re one of my favorite tumblr mutuals…ever :) - finnthehumaneater

Below the cut, @estrellami-1 answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Short, funny answer? Hyperfixation. Longer answer… it just works in a way I don’t see many pairings work. Maybe I’ve just got blinders on, I don’t know, but nothing about their canonical personalities have to change in order for them to be together.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

This is like asking who my favorite kid is… I like SO many, it honestly might be easier to ask what I don’t like! I tend to like the softer things, though; hurt/comfort (emphasis on the comfort), found family, fluff, things like that. I’m a sucker for anything soft and slow, which @ghosttotheparty does an AMAZING job at.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Again, anything soft and sweet! I tend to read what I write and vice versa… though I’m also an avid smut reader, and I’ve only felt brave enough to try writing it more recently. I think writing smut isn’t really my thing, but I am glad to have tried, just to say I’ve done it. But hey, never say never; it could happen one day!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I can’t possibly pick just one!! @pukner has some AMAZING things, specifically the two series off-script and always burning, world keeps turning. I’m also obsessed with anything by @ghosttotheparty, as stated earlier, and anything by the amazing @steddieas-shegoes.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Honestly, probably 70% of what I write never sees the light of day. Not for lack of want, but because I lose inspiration halfway through. So with that being said, I think I’ve written all the tropes I’d like to; I just haven’t published all of them. Fingers crossed, though; I still have all those docs, and I do go back to them sometimes, so hopefully inspiration will strike again!

What is your writing process like?

In all honesty, I don’t really have one. I tend to start at the beginning and let the characters take over, which means even I am surprised by some of the things I write! One such example is the relationship between Steve and El in If I Should Stay. I never thought they’d get that close, but here we are!

Do you have any writing quirks?

Unless it’s considered a quirk to write alone in my room at night, in complete darkness, with only my phone screen for light… then no. I don’t think so. Although I have definitely noticed I make the faces the characters do, to make sure I’m describing the right thing! 😂

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Since most things I write never get posted… I honestly don’t know! Probably on a schedule, considering I’m not finished writing If I Should Stay yet, but I’m not super picky; nothing else I post is on any sort of schedule, though that may be just because I mainly post one-shots.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Honestly, it’s a tie between If I Should Stay and Falling. If I Should Stay because I never expected to stick with it this long—I’m working on part 61 right now—and I’m exploring a lot of things I haven’t before. Falling because to this day, nothing I’ve done has come out like that. It was effortless in a way I never expected it to be, in a way I’ve never experienced before, and I think the results speak for themselves; it’s one of my most-liked fics, clocking in at just over 4k notes on Tumblr and 6.6k hits on ao3, most of which happened in the first week of it being posted!

How did you get the idea for (Push Away The) Lonely Times?

In all honesty… I don’t remember. Probably a combination of “what if Steve had Good Parents” and “what if Steve and Eddie were childhood friends” Tumblr posts!

When writing If I Should Stay, what was something you didn’t expect?

Like I said earlier, Steve and El’s relationship was a surprise. As was Alli, actually; I had no plans for a sister, but then I saw a “Steve has younger-brother-to-a-sister-energy” Tumblr post, said, “you right,” and proceeded to write her into that very next part.

What inspired Soft Touch Baby?

I swear I’ve got the worst memory… I honestly don’t remember. It was one of my firsts, and at that point in time I hadn’t even seen the show yet, so I wasn’t super confident in the fic, but damn if I didn’t have the balls! Looking back on it now, it isn’t my favorite, but I think it’s important to know where you came from, if only to see that it’s not all in vain, that even I can see how much better I’ve gotten.

What was your favorite part to write from (Push Away The) Lonely Times?

Probably the entirety of parts 3 and 4. I love Jim and Hopper’s banter, and I love Jim’s internal monologue in 4 as he’s taking care of Steve. I love exploring characterizations like this!!

How do/did you feel writing Soft Touch Baby?

As I said earlier, I don’t love it now, but I do like it for the starting block it is. I do remember, though, while I was writing it, I was feeling so smug; I thought I was writing the equivalent of the goddamn Mona Lisa. Laughable, really, which is another reason I don’t delete/orphan it. It helps keep me humble, to an extent.

What was the most difficult part of writing If I Should Stay?

Honestly? Posting the first part. I thought it was a throwaway thing, something that came a dime a dozen, something that everyone and their mother had already written. I posted it far too late at night (or was it far too early in the morning?) because I decided I didn’t give a shit, and woke up to an overwhelmingly positive response. To this day, I’m blown away by the attention it got! My taglists hit 100 people in just 4 days!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

Honestly, pretty much the entirely of Falling, and to a lesser extent, Because of You. In the former, it’s the whole Apollo/Dionysus banter, the way Eddie says Steve’s eyes are hazel and his hair has gold, the way he calls Steve sunshine boy, and the not to me, not if it’s you line. In the latter, it’s Steve saying, “…Because I trust you. I feel safe with you. I believe you’ll take care of me, because you’ve already proven you will.” I imagined him almost upset when saying this; louder than normal, very emotional, just trying to get Eddie to understand. It’s a very raw line, Steve’s being very open, and in the context of the fic, it’s kinda groundbreaking for him, and Eddie knows it.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I think I’ve shared something about most of the ones I’m excited about… all of this will be after I finish writing If I Should Stay, but I have a fae!Steve fic that I’m working on, one where Steve goes deaf (very heartbreaking and emotional and real and so, so much love and family), and I’ve got a lavender prom idea I’m working on, in which Steve and Robin are Platonic soulmates, Steve has an unfortunate crush on Eddie, and Robin’s got an equally unfortunate crush on Vickie. It’s a No Upside-Down AU in which Steve decides to host the first(?) lavender prom at his house. It’s not called a lavender prom, obviously, but I do have something of an idea for a nod to the name. Here’s a snippet, if you want, because I actually am really excited about this one:

Robin dramatically drapes herself over the foot of Steve’s bed and sighs. Dramatically. He quirks a brow, but otherwise doesn’t react, just keeps trying to focus on the same page he’s been trying to read for what feels like the past ten minutes. She sighs dramatically again. Somehow it’s even louder than before. He drops the book and looks heavenward for a moment. “What’s wrong?” “Prom’s coming up.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. It’s all anyone’s been talking about. “I know.” “I’ll have to dance with a guy.” “You don’t have to.” “There are rumors, Steven. Rumors,” she hisses, rolling over to stare at him. “Okay, so dance with a guy.” “And what happens if he tries to make a move?” “You reject him? Politely?” “Steve.” She says his name like he’s an idiot. He’s used to it. “The entire reason for a girl to dance with a guy is because she likes him. I’ll be back at square one.” Steve sighs, thinking. Truthfully, he isn’t really looking forward to prom, either. After his fall from the social totem pole, he puts a lot less stock in what people think of him, but even he has some societal norms to adhere to still. Societal norms like dancing with a girl when there’s a certain guy who’s been circling his mind instead. “Okay,” he says, thinking. “Do you know anyone else who has the same problem?” “Besides you? I can think of a couple of people.” The way she looks at him makes him think they’re thinking of the same person, and he’s suddenly struck once again with gratitude that she’s his friend. “If you talk to him, I’ll talk to Vickie.” “I will kiss you. Very platonically. On the forehead.” He laughs. “Okay. I’m thinking, what if I host something here, the same night as prom?” “I’m thinking there are a few people who would be really grateful.” They share a smile with each other before Robin grabs the book. “Okay, where are you, I’ll read, you listen.” “I love you,” he tells her seriously, moving to lay next to her and look at the page she’s looking at. He points to a section and she nods, tracing her finger down the lines as she reads.

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

A VERY big thank you to whoever nominated me!! And a great big thank-you-I-love-you to anyone who’s stuck with me and my writing thus far. I appreciate each and every one of you! ❤️ And, if you’re someone who’s waiting on me to answer an ask, I swear I haven’t forgotten! I’ll get to them all… eventually!

Thank you to our author, @estrellami-1, and our nominator, @finntheehumaneater! See more of @finntheehumaneater’s works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#steddie fic recs #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #writer's spotlight #writer's wednesday

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

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Your writing kills me in all the best ways 🥺 even for characters I don't care about!!

Could I request 6 & 11 with Javi from the comfort prompts?

Send me a comfort prompt!

Thank you my dear 🫶

*Deténgase, por favor - Pull over, please

Prompts: Bringing them their favorite beverage; Stopping by their workplace on your way home late at night with the hunch that they’re still there

"God, it's late," Connie sighs as the two of you drift out of the bar. "Steve better be home by now."

"Something you need to talk to him about?"

"Not particularly. I'm...Getting tired a little of sleeping alone," She admits with a thin smile. "Sometimes when he is there, it's like I don't even know who he is."

You nod, giving her shoulder a reassuring pat as a taxi pulls up for the two of you. You climb in, leaning back in your seat a little. Hopefully Steve is home. Hopefully, Javier is, too...

But deep-down, you're almost certain that he's not. You eye a liquor store as you drive past it, considering it. You let yourself stew in the thought for a few minutes before—

"Deténgase, por favor," You urge, leaning forward to catch the driver's attention. Connie frowns across the seat as you fish into your bag for your wallet.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just, um—I need to check on something at the office."

"We can take you there—"

"No, it's alright, I'll get my own. You okay getting home?"

"Yeah," She nods.

"Here," You pass your half of the cab fare over. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You climb out of the cab, shutting the door behind yourself. You second-guess yourself as you buy a bottle of whiskey, then again as you get a cab to the office. The nerves are worse still as you go up in the elevator, and you have to remind yourself that it's better if he's not there. If anything, you'll just put the bottle in his desk where he usually keeps one and get yourself home.

Rounding off of the elevator, you see the lights on, but only one person there. It's a bit of relief—it means that Steve's probably home with Connie. Javier is hunched over his desk, probably eyeing some file or map. You can see smoke curling from a cigarette that's likely either between his fingers or his lips. You knock loudly on the doorframe to draw his attention, not wanting to catch him off-guard.

Javier glances back, then does a double-take at the sight of you, his brow furrowing.

"What are you doing here?" He asks.

"Came to see if you needed help or company."

"How'd you know I'd still be here?"

"Hunch."

Javier nods a touch, gaze dropping from your face. Your skin goes hot as he seems to absently sweep your body before he turns away, clearing his throat.

"I won't be great company tonight."

"That's alright. You're usually not."

"Thanks."

You bite your lip as you watch him shift through a file, seemingly intent on ignoring you.

"...Well," You shift, "Do you at least have time for a drink?"

Javier glances over, eyes steadying on the bag in your hand. He purses his lips, thinking for a moment...And then draws his drawer out, taking out two tumblers. You try not to smile in smug satisfaction as he shuts the door and waves you closer.

"Would you like to do the honors?" You ask, setting the bottle down. Javier casts you a sidelong glance as he takes hold of the bottle.

"Thought you were going out with Connie tonight," He comments.

"I did."

"How is she?"

"Fine...Missing Steve."

"Well, far as I know, he's home, so she shouldn't be missing him much tonight."

You hum thoughtfully as he pours a healthy amount into both glasses, then scoot back to sit on his desk. You try not to overthink the way Javier watches you, instead twisting to turn his file toward you. Your eyes narrow a touch as you scan the information.

"This again?" You ask. "I thought Noonan called it on this op."

"She did. I'm looking for a new angle."

"Hell of a time to do it."

"No better time."

"No? Why's that?"

"I have a meeting with her in the morning."

"And you're planning on going into it in day-old clothing and without shaving?"

"I'll make it home in time."

"Oh really?"

"Sure. Sooner you stop slowin' me down, the faster I'll get home."

Your stomach plummets at the off-handed comment, and the way Javier turns the file back toward himself. Blame it on the late hour, or the drinks you had with Connie, but tears prick in your eyes. You force them back with a couple of blinks, raising your glass and draining it far faster than you should've. It burns on the way down, is still burning as you set your glass down and say, "Guess I'll be going, then."

"Hey, c'mon—"

You see Javier straighten in your periphery as you push yourself off of his desk.

"I didn't mean it like that," He adds.

"Yes you did."

You take the uncapped bottle petulantly, beginning to stride away.

"Wait a minute!"

You pick up your pace as you hear the scrape of Javier's chair, the thud of his feet catching up. You go still as he catches hold of your wrist. He takes a couple more cautious steps forward as he crowds closer. You can feel the heat of his chest against your back, hear the way he draws in the scent of your perfume.

"I didn't mean it like that," He repeats softly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. Your fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle.

Maybe he didn't. Maybe he did, and he's just trying to stay in your good graces. Either way, you're more certain than ever that you never should've come. You shove the bottle into his chest, forcing him to let go of you to catch hold of it. You don't bid him goodnight, or tell him that you're certain he's fill of shit. You just stride to the elevator and keep your expression neutral, your gaze averted until the elevator doors close. Once they're shut, you sniffle, slouching back against the elevator wall as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Fuck."

#Javier Peña x Reader #Javier Peña x You #Javier Peña/Reader #......SORRY—#asks #replies #prompts #writing prompts

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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I’m so glad Robin got to rip Eddie a new one in Hands Where I Can See Them!! And ohhhh since Wayne was home when Robin was chewing him out, maybe Wayne will come in with some good advice or just parental disappointment in how Eddie handled everything. Especially if Eddie has to explain exactly how Steve discovered that Eddie thought they weren’t dating.

I love it when Wayne is a mediator in fics, but I also understand if you don’t want to add him into the fic, I just think Eddie needs a calm third party who knows he didn’t mean to hurt Steve, but will be disappointed in how he handled everything. Like what if Wayne had woken up and heard Robin’s parting shot and wants to know what she meant by that. How did Eddie dismiss Steve last night?

I’ve reread each part like five times now, thank you so much for sharing your fics 💖💖

Robin deserved to yell a bit! Not only did Eddie hurt her best friend (criminal offense), he also ruined her night, because Steve was upset, which means Robin is upset, yaknow? Like, of course she's going to do whatever she needs to help Steve out and make sure he's taken care of, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't rather nothing had happened to make that necessary in the first place

I actually did consider adding Wayne in at the end of the most recent part (did the man really sleep through that whole argument? we may never know), but I figured Eddie had probably been through enough for the moment without having to also immediately explain to his uncle what had happened. It bothers me when characters get dog-piled in fics for making a mistake - as in, person after person shuts them out or tells them how badly they've screwed up. It feels a little like saying that they really need to suffer before they can be forgiven, which doesn't sit right. Forgiveness should come from understanding how your behavior hurt someone and working to change that behavior; suffering doesn't teach you jack shit. But that's a different conversation! The point is, I'm at least trying to give Eddie breaks between people going "What were you thinking??" at him

I think Wayne will have to at least make an appearance, though. Steve's practically been living with them, and suddenly he's gone; Wayne could hardly fail to notice the change, even if Eddie wasn't suddenly moping around. And I do love mediator Wayne! The thing I want to avoid is using him as a kind of deus ex machina; I feel like sometimes we bring Wayne in to explain to Eddie how he's feeling, so Eddie doesn't have to work to reach those conclusions on his own (this happens with Robin for Steve, too, I think). It's helpful to have a third party as a sounding board, or to help break up self-destructive patterns, but I like it when characters have to do their own emotional heavy lifting

...anyway, that was probably a lot more rambling than you expected when you sent this ask, which was very kind of you to do and made me smile to read, so hopefully my answer didn't put you off??

#now of course whether or not I manage to adequately translate these thoughts into fic is another matter #anonymous #answers from solar #I didn't tag this with st or any of the characters because I didn't think it should go into the main tag but let me know if I should?

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superblysubpar · 1 year

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Happy Sunday fic rec night friends! As I mentioned last week, I'm hopefully gonna offer some authors to check out each week along with what I've read. I hope you find some new authors/fics to enjoy! 💛

Please reblog and share why you love your favorite writer's work! They can't read your thoughts from a simple like. If you can't reblog or comment, consider sending a sweet anon message in support, it could really make someone's day and it will also encourage your favorite writer(s) to keep writing the work you love!💛

As a reminder here's why I'm doing this every Sunday, and anything I reblog/seen on these Sunday lists can be found @superbreblogger my fic dump blog. Happy reading and have a great week!

recs now separated by character’s and will have fluff, smut, and angst descriptions

Hey Check Out These Super Talented Authors:

@1986harrington - masterlist

I loved everything I read this week, but I think my favorite had to have been "We fell in love at the end of the world". A truly sweet intimate moment with Steve perfectly balanced. I feel people often focus on Steve being soft and sweet and clingy after being hurt and this fic shows that side as well as his need to still be silly, to push off his pain and injuries to make you laugh. I don't think there was a fic I didn't smile or think to myself 'mhm yes totally steve oh my god.' You won't be disappointed!

@abibliophobiaa - masterlist

Again, loved absolutely everything I read. Holy cow did I fucking cry at Evermore. But I think my favorite had to be Luna's "Bad Idea" best friend Steve Harrington oneshot. It was fluffy and smutty and perfection. Luna's wit in her writing as well as some truly beautiful poetic lines that will stick with you are just a few reasons to check out her stories!

Steve Harrington:

"Late Night Drives" by @1986harrington -fluff/smut

"Bad Idea" by @abibliophobiaa - smut

"We Fell In Love At The End Of The World" by @1986harrington - angst/fluff

"Sweetness" / "Sweetness" pt. 2 by @upsidedownwithsteve - smut

"Bad For Business Level One" by @upsidedownwithsteve - fluff/(angst in the form of enemies to lovers - mini series)

"Single Thread" pt. 3 (spiderman!steve) by @keeryshouse - fluff/smut/angst

"Addiction" by @sweetsweetjellybean - smut

"Lover" by @sunshinesteviee - fluff

Untitled BD Steve by @usedtobecooler - smut

Eddie Munson:

"Evermore" by @abibliophobiaa - angst

"Whatta Man - Eddie's Night" by @loveshotzz - smut (with some good fluff too)

Untitled Request by @newlips - smut

"Disjointed" chap. 29 by @boomhauer - this series contains angst/fluff/smut

Series I'm Currently Reading & Recommend:

"be with you everywhere" by @willowherbal | Steve Harrington - ongoing

“Disjointed” by @boomhauer | Eddie Munson - ongoing

“Baby Steps” by @boomhauer | Steve Harrington - ongoing

#superbly subpars fic recs #sunday fic recs #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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navnae · 1 year

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Me, Myself and You

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: narcissism, new k!nk, nsfw smut, very explicit

Summary: “What I’m trying to get at is that the next time we have sex i don’t want you to be yourself,” Steve said quietly. Eddie tilts his head smiling thinking that wasn’t such a bad request. They’ve role played several times and all those times were amazing. Eddie loved getting into character no matter the circumstance especially if that’s what Steve wanted from him, he still couldn’t put a finger on why Steve was still fidgeting as if that was something to be ashamed of. Eddie had a list of characters in his mind that Steve could be thinking of that would make him this nervous to not even want to look at Eddie. His thoughts were all over the place and he kind of zoned out until Steve napped him back into reality when he elaborated on what he meant. Nothing could prepare Eddie for what he was about to hear.

Steve has this kink and he’s way too embarrassed to tell Eddie about it.

When it came to trying new things in the bedroom Steve and Eddie were always down for it. They’ve had several conversations about what they wanted to do with the other person and the conversation always went well. After trying some things out, both of them had a few things on their list that they would consider a hard “one and done” then leaving it at that but most of the times every experience added something to their kinky side. Overall nothing too crazy has ever made them completely shut the idea down without having an opened mind about it first except this time Steve wasn’t sure that Eddie would be willing to play into his fantasies this time around. It would open up a deeper conversation that Steve was terrified of having with Eddie and he was scared that he might have to admit that he’s thought about this a lot, a little too much. That’s why Steve avoided talking to Eddie about having sex for a hot minute beverage he knew eventually he would give in and ask Eddie if he was willing to try out his desire. It was way too embarrassing for him to bring up or forget about all together, Steve believed if they never did it then hopefully his mind would one day get rid of those thoughts he had.

Of course, they didn’t.

One day at night Eddie turned up at Steve’s house and suggested they’d spend some time together since they haven’t in weeks which Steve hated himself for. Obviously Steve couldn’t deny Eddie when he had his arm resting on doorframe and giving him that look with his big brown eyes, how could Steve resist? He let Eddie inside and both of them headed towards the leaving room. Steve went ahead and picked out a few movies for them to watch while Eddie relaxed into the couch. It took Steve a few minutes to set up the movie before it finally started to play then he joined Eddie on the couch. Eddie wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulder to pull him close and Steve leaned in to lay his head on him. They stayed like that for awhile as they watched the movies and everything seemed pretty normal for the most part. Whenever something interesting popped up on the screen they talked about it or if it was funny they’d laugh, just like old times. Steve really enjoyed nights like this when they hung out casually and he could forget about everything that was going on. It wasn’t long before Steve started thinking about his fantasies again and having vivid images flash in his head. He shook his head quickly trying to get rid of those thoughts making Eddie flinch in the process. Eddie held him close as he scanned over Steve’s face with worry.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Eddie asked softly. Steve’s face started to burn from embarrassment as he nodded his head.

“Y-yeah everything’s fine. The movie is just so good that I couldn’t control myself.” Steve lied. He laughed hoping that Eddie would fall for it and continue watching the movie. Eddie looked at him for another second then turned his attention back to the tv screen.

Steve felt relief when Eddie didn’t question him any further and really wanted things to return back to normal. That lasted for a few seconds then those images kept coming back up in his brain and they just kept getting even more explicit than before. Every image was so detailed and graphic that he could feel his cock slowly becoming hard at the thought. He groaned at the feeling of his jeans getting tighter and the friction made it even worse. Steve squirmed as he tried to get to rid of his erection without Eddie noticing but the more he moved the harder he got. Eddie looked at him with a raised brow watching him move his body not so subtly.

“Babe are you sure you’re okay?” Eddie asked and his voice was drenched with worry at this point. Steve nodded his head quickly before he pulled away from Eddie. He needed to touch himself or he’d do something that he was definitely going to regret.

“I promise I’m fine. I’m just going to use the bathroom real quick.” Steve said in hurry. He couldn’t even get up fast enough because Eddie had a tight grip on his arm and he wasn’t happy at all.

“Steve, I’m being serious right now. If something is wrong you have to let me know what it is so I can make it better.” Eddie’s voice sounded like music to Steve’s ears. He always talked sweetly to him whenever he knew something was bothering him and Steve would always give in when that happens. Steve looked away because he was embarrassed that Eddie’s voice made him even harder. His body started to burn all over, he couldn’t let Eddie know why he was feeling like this.

“It’s nothing just forget about it.” Steve responded while desperately trying to cover his crotch with his hand and that only brought attention to it. Eddie glanced down at Steve’s hand with confusion wondering why his boyfriend was acting weird. He took his hand and placed it on top of Steve’s to remove it, Eddie’s eyes widened as he looked at the obvious bulge in Steve’s pants. He smiled softly then made eye contact with Steve who was blushing all over. Eddie laughed lightly before he started to speak.

“Were you really trying to hide this from me? Steve if you wanted me to help you out down there all you had to do was ask, sweetheart.” Eddie spoke softly. He leaned in to give Steve a kiss and it made Steve’s heart flutter. It’s been awhile since they’ve kissed and after not doing it for so long things got a little heated immediately. Their lips went from kissing gently to slipping in their tongues into the others mouth. Steve moaned when Eddie licked the inside of his mouth while slowly sliding his hand over Steve’s clothed erection. Eddie’s fingers were quick to undo the button and the zipper within a second, he continued to rub the sensitive area just to get a reaction out of Steve. His cock throbbed against his underwear and the slightest touch of Eddie’s hand almost sent him over the edge. Steve kept having those images in his head repeat as Eddie rubbed his hand in a circular motion over the new wet patch that formed on Steve’s underwear. Steve let out needy moans when Eddie kissed his neck, he felt like his body was going to explode in any second because everything started to become too much. Without thinking he pushed Eddie away and he shook his head trying to get rid of these thoughts that just wouldn’t stop.

“I’m sorry. I just think it’s better for me to take care of this myself, it’s way too embarrassing to have you do it.” Steve rambled. Eddie had no idea why Steve was being so distant and for him to be too embarrassed to tell him why didn’t sit right with him at all. Whatever it was couldn’t be that bad as long as there was a way for them to get through it together. Eddie took Steve’s hand into his own and held it, giving it a little squeeze.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, if anything you should never be embarrassed about anything with me. I’m not going to judge you if there’s something you need to get off your chest. You don’t have to hide from me okay?” Eddie said with a smile. Steve smiled back feeling a little bit better about talking to Eddie when it comes to his situation.

“Okay.” Steve smiled widely as he leaned in to kiss Eddie and both of them giggled halfway through it before pulling away from each other. Now they needed to handle the elephant in the room.

“Alright, that’s out the way now. Tell me what’s been on your mind lately.” Eddie jumped right into the conversation. Steve blushed instantly due to Eddie’s intense gaze and he had come to the conclusion that there was no way of avoiding this topic now. He looked down at his hands and played with his fingers while taking a deep breath. Eddie let him take his time.

“Well um… I just wanted to say that I don’t mind if you think this is weird or want to judge me I completely understand-“

“Steve,” Eddie cut him off with a laugh and he went for his hand again. “I told you I’m not going to judge you. Now stop trying to beat around the bush.”

Steve nodded his head and he tried to believe that Eddie meant every word he said without feeling ashamed. He gathered himself after a few seconds then he went back to talking.

“Okay. For a few years now even when I was in high school I’ve had this fantasy and recently it’s been popping up on my head after not thinking about it for a long time.” Steve admitted. Eddie nodded his head while he listened to Steve and he smiled when he did.

“That makes things a little easier. I’m guessing this sexual fantasy has been bugging you and freaking you out because you were nervous about asking me if we could try it. Did I get it right?” Eddie asked. Steve avoided looking at Eddie as he nodded his head. Eddie has never seen Steve this shy when it came to trying out new things in the bedroom and now he was really curious about what it could be.

“Sweetheart, you never have to be afraid of asking me if we could try something. I’m always down for whatever you want to do and if we don’t like it we definitely don’t have to do it again. Just tell me what it is.” Eddie wasn’t trying to hide his excitement, they’ve tried a lot of stuff but this time it seemed like what Steve had in mind would be a sight to see. Steve managed to laugh at the goofy expression on Eddie’s face and he could put his walls down completely.

“What I’m trying to get at is that the next time we have sex i don’t want you to be yourself,” Steve said quietly. Eddie tilts his head smiling thinking that wasn’t such a bad request. They’ve role played several times and all those times were amazing. Eddie loved getting into character no matter the circumstance especially if that’s what Steve wanted from him, he still couldn’t put a finger on why Steve was still fidgeting as if that was something to be ashamed of. Eddie had a list of characters in his mind that Steve could be thinking of that would make him this nervous to not even want to look at Eddie. His thoughts were all over the place and he kind of zoned out until Steve napped him back into reality when he elaborated on what he meant. Nothing could prepare Eddie for what he was about to hear.

“I want you to be… me.”

Out of all the things Eddie thought he would hear come out of Steve’s mouth, that was the last thing he thought of. Eddie looked at Steve with wide eyes and his mouth slightly open from shock. Steve’s face turned into a deep shade of red as he waited for Eddie to say something. Eddie had to process what Steve had told him fully and a part of him wondered if he miss heard him or was his brain playing tricks on him. Steve hated sitting there in silence thinking that Eddie had enough and thus was going to be the last straw, he’s finally done it. He drove Eddie away with his dirty fucking mind and his sick twisted fantasies which he couldn’t even blame eddie if he were to leave him right there. Eddie just sat there blinking like he was a broken item that couldn’t move anymore. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t taken aback just a little bit.

“This is why I didn’t want to say anything. It’s weird and embarrassing, you probably want to go home now which I get. I wouldn’t want to be around me either if I heard someone say that.” Steve hid his face in his hands and at this point he didn’t want Eddie to be around him any longer than what he has to. Steve’s eyes started to water at the thought of Eddie breaking up with him and he didn’t realize that he was sobbing uncontrollably until he felt hands pulling him into a warm embrace. He cried even harder when Eddie gently ran his fingers through his hair to calm him down then whispering kind words that Steve desperately needed. Eddie kissed on the top of his head hoping that Steve understood that just because he was surprised didn’t mean that he was going anywhere. Once Steve got everything out of his system Eddie pulled away while letting his finger go under Steve’s chin and tilting it up to make them share eye contact. Through Steve’s tears Eddie could see those big brown beautiful eyes that made his heart melt every time he looked into them, he wiped any tears away with his thumb and cupped the side of Steve’s face. Steve didn’t understand why Eddie was still there let alone looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“Are you good now?” Eddie asked softly. He still smiled like the previous events never took place and he kept rubbing his thumb over Steve’s cheek.

“Yeah but aren’t you weirded out by that?” Steve asked. Eddie laughed I’m response and shook his head.

“Shocked yes, weirded out no. We all have our things baby and that’s what makes everybody unique. I tell you what how about we try it right now and let’s see how you feel about it afterwards okay?” Eddie suggested. Steve’s eyes got big when the words came out of Eddie’s mouth and a smile appeared on his face.

“Are you serious? You’re willing to do that for me?” Steve asked happily. Eddie didn’t feel like he needed to say much and pulling Steve in for a kiss felt like enough. Steve genuinely felt like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. Eddie was the first to pull away.

“I’d do anything when it comes to you. Now I think it’s time we go upstairs.” Eddie whispered the last part lowly into Steve’s ear and Steve already knew what he was hinting at.

They made their way upstairs quickly before closing the door and smashing their lips together. All of their movements were rougher than earlier as they rubbed their hands over each other’s body. They kissed all the way til they reached the bed and go onto it. Usually Steve would be the one on the bottom but this time around he had something else in mind. Eddie laid on his back and got ready for whatever Steve wanted to do next. Steve straddled Eddie’s hips when he made himself comfortable on the bed then leaned down to kiss him again. They kissed each other hungrily, Eddie’s tongue explored Steve’s mouth causing him to moan into his mouth. Steve moved his hips slightly and he could feel Eddie’s cock through the fabric. Eddie groaned at the feeling before putting his hands on Steve’s hood and they slowly moved their bodies in unison. Their throbbing cocks being restricted by their pants made both of them kiss each other with so much desperation. Steve ended the kiss when he pulled away and sat up straight on Eddie’s lap. Eddie kept his hands on Steve’s hips while looking up at him to watch his every move.

“I’m all ears for what you want me to do, just tell me what and I’ll do it.” Eddie reassured Steve. He didn’t want to ruin Steve’s experience and he wanted Steve to have as much control of the situation as possible. Steve smiled brightly as he already thought of what he wanted Eddie to do exactly.

“Alright. For starters, I want you to refer to yourself as me and instead of saying your name I’ll call you Steve. If that makes sense.” Steve explained. It sounded weird saying it out loud but Eddie wasn’t phased by it all. He nodded his head and took in everything Steve had told him. “Other than that nothing really has to change.”

“Gotcha.” Eddie said then he leaned up to kiss Steve and he slid his fingers under Steve’s shirt. He traced his fingers across Steve’s skin then tugging on the hem of the shirt before lifting it over Steve’s head to toss it aside. Eddie was quick to remove his shirt too and both of them took off their pants along with their underwear. Now Steve was left sitting on top of Eddie’s cock that was leaking with precum and his own cock throbbed the longer he looked at Eddie. He knew what came next so he reached over to grab some lube off the nightstand near the bed before applying a good amount onto his hand. Eddie smirked at the idea of Steve stretching himself without his help but he couldn’t resist the urge to join in. “Want some help with that baby?”

“No I got it. Just sit back and relax.” Steve put his hand on Eddie’s chest to make him lay down flat. He breathed deeply when he took the semi cold substance on his finger and pressed it against his entrance. Steve lifted himself up for more access and he pushed a finger inside his tight hole letting a high pitched whine escape his lips. Eddie could come just by watching Steve fingering himself and how he could barely take his own fingers. Steve moaned louder when he slipped another finger in while inserting them deeper until he hit a soft spot. He jumped as he cried out from the intense feeling of pain mixed with pleasure, Eddie did everything in his power to not touch Steve but he couldn’t control himself. Eddie sat grabbing Steve’s waist then taking his finger and sliding it into Steve’s hole along with the rest of his fingers. Before Steve could say anything Eddie kissed him roughly while stretching Steve out and fucking him with just a finger. Steve moaned loudly against Eddie’s lips, nothing was even inside him yet and he was already a mess.

“You like when the king of hawkins high stretch out huh, Steve?” Eddie said lowly. Steve moaned even louder once he imagined Eddie as himself and his cock twitched from Eddie’s voice. Eddie pulled his finger along with Steve’s out of his hole and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock. Steve lifted himself up once more to align his entrance with Eddie’s tip and Eddie held him in place to make it a little easier. Slowly Steve pushed himself down onto Eddie’s cock as he felt the tip press against his rim, Steve threw his arms around Eddie’s shoulders while crying out from his cock going deep into him. Eddie kissed Steve on the side of his cheek when tears started to run down his face. Steve felt so many emotions and feeling Eddie fill him up made him lose his mind.

“Good boy, you’re taking your own cock so well. Do you like filling yourself up Steve?” Eddie asked while slowly moving his hips and thrusting upwards. Steve held on to Eddie tightly trying to respond but all of his word were just desperate moans as he bounced on Eddie’s cock pretending it was his own. He blushed deeply when Eddie took his nipple into his mouth and sucked on it. The sensitive bud being touched was enough to get more tears out Steve. Eddie licked his nipples for few more seconds then pulled away. He was still expecting Steve to answer the question he had a few seconds prior, luckily Steve didn’t need to to be reminded of it.

“Y-yes… I love being filled by your cock Steve, fuck.” Steve said barely being able to catch his breath with Eddie fucking into him like there was no tomorrow. Eddie put his hands on Steve’s hips and slammed him down repeatedly making Steve whine. Both of them moved their bodies in unison while the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping and their filthy noises. Eddie started off thrusting slow then he speeded up the pace. Steve’s tip leaked with precum dripping down the sides as he let his imagination run wild, he wanted to cum from fucking himself so badly.

“You’re getting tighter whenever you think about fucking yourself. Look at you becoming a mess already darling.” Eddie thrusted harder until Steve was digging his nails into Eddie’s back and unable to say complete sentences. Steve begged Eddie to fuck him harder even though he was already going hard enough. Eddie continued to destroy Steve’s hole like he requested and he could feel himself getting closer to his orgasm. Steve felt his stomach turn every time Eddie’s cock went inside him shamelessly, the faster Eddie went he knew he would be coming soon.

“S-Steve I can’t… too much.” Steve moaned. Eddie smiled as he he cupped the side of Steve’s face and captured his lips while keeping up his rhythm. They kissed passionately knowing that their climaxes were coming in a few seconds. Eddie tugged at Steve’s hair causing him to let out the sexiest moan he’s ever heard and getting access to Steve’s neck. Taking his skin into his mouth and when he goes back to work the whole store will know that Steve is his. Purple bruises already started to form in a short amount of time which Eddie was proud of. Steve held onto Eddie tighter when his cock throbbed against his stomach and he let out a cry knowing that he couldn’t stop himself.

“I know you want to cum baby, go head and cum for me like a good boy.” Eddie kissed Steve on the check as those words settled in Steve’s ear. As if on command Steve came hard on himself and onto Eddie. Not too long after Eddie filled Steve up with his own cum until it spilled out. Both of them felt extremely drained from all of that but managed to give each other a sweet kiss. Eddie smiled after seeing that Steve looked happier and calm. “So, how was it?”

“It was amazing.” Steve said honestly. He couldn’t stop smiling from finally being able to explore his fantasy with Eddie and all of it was so hot. Eddie laughed while hugging Steve tightly.

“I’m glad you did but you know you’re a narcissist right?” Eddie joked earning a slap on the shoulder from Steve.

“Shut up.” Steve retorted then he pulled Eddie in for another kiss and giggled the entire night in each other’s arms.

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hogwartsandhawkins · 1 year

Text

Prove Me Wrong

Prologue: We're Not Friends

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Masterlist

Ok here it is! The prologue for my nine (maybe longer) part fic for Billy Hargrove. I haven't written anything for a very long time, and I've never written an imagine or fic before so be mindful and go easy on me! But hopefully, it's well-liked despite the trash writing.

Also, I gave her a name, considering I'll be writing the same character for 9 parts, I feel like not giving her a name wouldn't feel right.

Summary: Max convinces you to watch over Billy.

Word Count: 1992

Warnings: Mentions of blood. Lots of swearing. I mean it's Billy Hargrove. Let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: Please, do not steal my work. This prologue and all the following chapters of this story are my original work, and I have worked very hard on each part I post. Reposts are always appreciated but copying and pasting any of these and posting them as your own is not, including translations without my permission.

The characters from the Netflix series are not my own, excluding the OC, and belong to Netflix and the Duffer Brothers.

Jess Logan sat at the edge of the Byers’ couch, anxiously staring at the floor, or rather, the person laying on the floor unconscious. Blood slowly found its way from the boy’s nose to the wooden floor. Jess was unsure whether to stay seated or to hurry and wipe the blood away, ensuring Joyce would not have to deal with a stain later. She began to rise, but then the sound of leather rubbing against the floor disrupted her and forced her back down. A feeble attempt to stand up from the boy was met with a groan.

“What … the fuck?”

Billy Hargrove held his head between both hands and began to look over his setting. He wasn’t at a party. The house was much too empty for that. He also could hold his liquor, so this couldn’t be a hangover after blacking out. Did he get knocked out? Lose a fight? Hell no. He was Billy fucking Hargr- wait. It started to come back to him. Max. Where was she? Panic began to kick in as he realized where he was and why. He started to look around much more frantically, making his head spin and his eyes water.

Jess did nothing except hold her breath and sit completely still, hoping that maybe, Billy would miss her entirely. It was only when Billy propped himself on his elbows did he notice the girl staring right at him. She looked as if she has just seen a ghost, and that if she were to move, a bomb might set off, disintegrating the entire house. Embarrassment began to set in, which quickly turned into anger as he realized she has been here the whole time, witnessing him like this. He was about ready to unleash this anger on her for continuing to stare wordlessly when he suddenly hears Max’s voice in his head. SAY YOU UNDERSTAND. He winces at this, remembering the numbness traveling through his body and the sound of cracking wood.

Jess notices this reaction as well but chalks it up to be pain. If this monster even feels pain. Jess too has a flashback from earlier this night, but it included what happened before Billy’s memory. It included how Billy wouldn’t stop, even after Steve didn’t, couldn’t, fight back. It included Billy’s pin-pointed yet blank eyes, hyper-focused on her best friend’s pain-stricken face as he continued to wail down on the helpless boy, wearing what Jess remembers as a smile on Billy’s face, as if he was enjoying the show he put on only for himself.

He shifts his wince to a sweet, charming smile, quite different than the one Jess remembers earlier, scrunching his nose ever so slightly, and begins to devour every inch of this girl with his eyes. He quickly recognizes her as the co-captain of the cheer team, Jessica Logan. He then slowly drops his grin, morphing it into a smirk as he continued to eye her, hoping to have some effect on her, waiting for her to relax her features at least slightly. She doesn’t move. He again flashed her his winning smile, and threw in a head nod, hoping to get her to budge, but what little effect his silent advances would normally have on Jess were further dulled by the blood-caked teeth, bloodied nose, and split-opened knuckles, which further reminded her of why she couldn’t wait to be out of his presence and made her even stiffer, if possible. When it became obvious the girl across from him had no intention of breathing, let alone talking, he sighed and decided to break the silence, dropping his smile once more.

“Sorry, dollface, but cou- “

“Don’t call me that.”

So she speaks. “What?”

“Dollface. Don’t call me that.”

“Okayy... so what do I call you then?” His question dripped with honey as he attempted to shift himself closer to where she was sitting. He watched her intently, shifting the inside of his cheek between his teeth as he did so. He watched as she squirmed, trying to think of how to answer him, and he enjoyed the effect he had on her, the effect he thought he had on her.

“Jocelyn.”

“Isn’t your name Jess?”

Shit “Well yeah.. but it’s my middle name.” She beat herself up for one, thinking about the ridiculous idea to try and lie about her name, and two, for continuing the ridiculous lie after she’d been caught, but she prayed that this would be their final confrontation, and she’d graduate, or even better, he’d drop out sooner than she graduates, and they’ll never have to see each other again…

“… Right. So, uh, Jess Jocelyn,” Billy continued to eye her until turning his attention to the now empty kitchen, the last place he remembered Max being. Still propped on his elbow, he continued, “would you be able to tell me where Max is?”

“Uh, your sister? Well she’s-“

“Don’t call her that.”

“So what do I call her then?” She mimicked the way he previously asked this question, leaning in as if she was interested. She hated the way Billy treated his stepsister. At least, hated the fear in Max’s eyes when she talked about him. Jess never saw anything behind the scenes, but she didn’t have to. She could recognize that kind of fear from anywhere.

Billy genuinely beamed this time, finding her mocking tone amusing, even if it was a jab at him. “Just call her Max.”

“Right, well,” Jess began to falter. She couldn’t exactly tell him where she was, let alone why she was there, “Max. She’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?” The anger crept in again, and when he reached for his keys, he had no intention of keeping it in any longer. “Where. the FUCK. are my KEYS.” He was no longer looking into the empty kitchen, but straight back at her. He was no longer smiling. Instead, he attempted to sit straighter than he was previous and sent an icy cold stare at Jess, jaw clenching as he did so.

“likeisaid. She’s gone.”

Jess tried to force herself to become smaller somehow and avoided Billy’s piercing eyes, finding the Byers’ random array of throw rugs a better sight than Hargrove’s angry gaze. His eyes widened at her answer. “No. nonono this cannot be..” Panic began to replace the anger. He started to pat himself down, hoping that Max and her stupid friends left by anything other than his beloved Camaro. How was he going to bring her home now? “How long ago did they leave?” Desperation coated his question, and Jess almost started to feel bad for him.

“Dunno, awhile ago, Billy. Wait!”

Billy began to turn from his elbow onto his palm and pushed himself up. His head began to spin as the blood found itself elsewhere, but Billy could not focus on that right now. He needed to leave, he needed to catch up to them. “Where did she g-“and with this, he stumbled, causing Jess to leap to steady him, which she instantly regretted as he may have fallen unconscious after falling, maybe hitting his head, and that seemed to be a better alternative to him conscious and asking all the wrong questions. Maybe if I just dropped him… She shook these intrusive thoughts from her head and brought him over to where she was sitting for the entirety of their interaction and helped him lean against the back of the couch.

“Shit. SHIT.” Billy smashed the backside of his fist against the couch, making Jess jump. “Sorry.” Billy sighed, then his smirk slowly made an appearance again, but this time it wasn’t aimed at her. He began to chuckle at himself and continued until he started shaking his head. Acceptance replaced the fear in his tone, and he knew. He was utterly screwed. “Fuck Jess, I can’t leave here without her.” He was looking up at the ceiling now, the back of the couch pushed up against Billy’s neck, perfectly cradling his not-so-steady head. and Jess looked up as well, wondering what he could be possibly staring at. “Neil is going to kill me.”

“Is.. is Neil your dad?”

“Mm.”

She looked back over at him as she continued, “Well, she’ll be back, and then you guys can go home.” At this, Billy looked over at the clock which indicated it was already midnight.

“Great.”

Billy cracked a smile again, chuckling at what awaited him at home. “Could you maybe rinse your mouth with water or something?” Billy immediately dropped his smile and looked over at her with confusion, visibly hurt by this request. Billy proceeded to lift his hand to his mouth, but before he could try and “discreetly” gage his breath, Jess began to laugh while wildly shaking her head back and forth. “No! No, it’s just, you know, the blood.”

Billy had somehow forgotten his fight with Harrington but was relieved to know it wasn’t a lack of personal hygiene that was causing her to wince at every smile this whole time. Jess then hurried to the kitchen, avoiding the smashed plate and the fallen clutter on the floor, to grab a glass and fill it with water. She then proceeded back to Billy and began to attempt to bring the glass to his lips.

“I’m not paralyzed, you know.”

“Right” She hands, more like pushes, the glass into Billy’s palm, causing some of the water to spill onto Billy’s arm, however, he doesn’t even notice as he starts to realize how thirsty he truly was with the reminder that water exists in this house. He washed the glass down within seconds of it reaching his hand and gives it back to Jess. “You were supposed to – “

“Yeah. Uh, could you?”

“Yup,” and you’re up again, soon handing him another glassful. This time, he takes the water and swishes it in his mouth, then stops, unaware of whether he should spit it back into the glass or swallow it to save you from having to see the orange-red liquid return into the cup. As if she was able to read his thoughts, she nods and tells him to “go ahead”, and Billy does as he’s told, spitting the water back into the glass.

“Uh, Sorry.”

“Don’t worry bout it.”

She takes the cup from him and pours the liquid down the drain and rinses out the glass thoroughly. Poor Joyce, she thought as she maneuvered through the kitchen one last time, returning to Billy with a different glass, again full of water. Billy thanked her, and without another word, downed the water with two gulps and set the glass between his legs. He then repositioned back to where he was previous, and Jess followed suit.

“So why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you here, and not with them?”

“Someone had to stay here and make sure you didn’t get into any more trouble.”

“Yeah, but why you and not someone else?”

“Max thought you would be more civil since, according to her, we run in the same circle, and well, Steve wasn’t in any position to stay…”

The thought of Steve having to be carried away stuck with Jess, and it was her turn to be angry. “So Max told you to stay. I didn’t realize a thirteen-year-old child ran this shit show. I guess she’s right though, considering we’re friends now and all.” Billy now stared back at her, and she didn’t like this new twinkle in his eye. He then flicked his lips with his tongue and flashed yet another not-so-original smile, one she could see right through, one that he seemed to have practiced in the mirror a dozen times before this interaction, and though his mouth was no longer dark red, she liked this smile much less than the ones previously.

“Steve Harrington. He’s my friend. You and me. We’re not friends.”

#billy stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #billy x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove antis dni #billy hargrove x female reader

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

Note

Hopefully you or some of your wonderful followers can help me out with a really odd question: what is the difference between an AU and a crossover fic?

This might sound silly, but I've always assumed that a crossover is something like "Sherlock and John, while solving a case, cross paths with Mulder and Scully who are also trying to solve their mystery, and they join up to work together." vs. an AU is more like "Sherlock and John are solving cases in the X-Files universe" and their characters are like combinations: Sherlock/Mulder and John/Scully. But the characters from X-Files don't actually exist in the fic.

Or even fics that are just a completely new universe altogether, not necessarily based on an already known one (like Sherlock and John are from Las Vegas and Sherlock the always winning poker player is under suspicion from security guard John that he is cheating, and that is how they meet, etc etc) would be considered an AU.

Anyway, that is how I've always filtered on AO3 when searching. But now I've come across a few lately that are tagged AU but when I start reading them, they are more what I consider crossover fics (which aren't my preference, sorry. I just don't care to read about Sherlock and Iron Man working together lol).

Maybe I've missed out on some great fics that were tagged as crossover but were actually AU's? Is my assumption of which one is which completely off base? Other than reading every fic until it's obvious which type of story it is, is there a better way to at least get an idea for filtering purposes?

I don't want to miss out on fantastic fics because I don't really understand what they're about because I've misunderstood all along!

Thank you for any help you or your followers can give! 😁

Hey Nonny!

Alright, so here's how _I_ personally understand it, and I'm probably totally off-piste, but it's how I've always understood and try my best in my sorting of fics. PLEASE note that EVERYTHING BELOW is how I PERSONALLY UNDERSTAND it all.

Generally, there's a VERY thin line between AUs and Crossovers AND it also melts into Fusion fics as well.

Alternate Universes:

Basically, AU (or Alternate Universe, for my newbie lovelies) is the "larger umbrella term" that all fics NOT following canon events have. These can be as simple as a non-canon-compliant fic, but GENERALLY it's understood as stories that take place in different franchises, eras, timelines, professions, species, etc. That's the broader definition. It covers everything, really. It doesn't necessarily mean just other franchises, but it can contain them.

But in terms of "this story with BBC Sherlock Characters takes place during the Avengers" for instance, each character from BBC Sherlock REPLACES a character in the Avengers. They would never ever meet any of the cast of the main Avengers IF they are a replacement character.

So let's say we're adapting the Avengers. For the sake of this example: Sherlock is Tony, John is Captain America, Molly is Black Widow, etc. Now THOSE characters in the Avengers franchise should never show up AS those characters. We are doing one-for-one replacements to put Sherlock Characters into the MCU AS Iron Man, AS Black Widow, AS Captain America. Tony, Natasha, and Steve cannot exist in this universe.

(as an aside though, given the MCU's current state of Variants existing in multiverses, it can be argued that they can exist, but I'm being pedantic... for the sake of this example let's say they don't)

TL:DR; we replace main characters with other main characters, and those main characters from either franchise should never meet. So TECHNICALLY what is labelled for your example is actually correct (Crossovers and AU), and unfortunately the filtering needs to be whittled down more. Filtering by "Alternate Universe" does NOT guarantee no-Crossovers, so you will have to add crossovers as an exclusion in your filtered terms. On AO3, there is a place to select exclusions, so just type in "Crossovers" there, or character names.

Crossovers and Fusions

I'm grouping these two together because my understanding of these two is that they're PRETTY close to each other enough that they do overlap.

Crossovers are stories that characters from one franchise meet and interact with characters from another franchise; no characters are omitted intentionally, and don't replace other characters in a story. For instance, in a Harry Potter AU, the Sherlock gang all go to Hogwarts, and Harry and Co. all exist and continue on with their story, probably interact occasionally, but we're focusing on the Sherlock gang and their exploits rather than Potter people.

Fusion stories, or my understanding of them anyway, is one of two things:

You have characters that replace SOME of the characters but keep OTHER characters from Universe 2 to interact with Universe 1. Let's go back to the Avengers sample; Sherlock (Tony), John (Steve) and Molly (Natasha) meet and interact with Bruce Banner and Clint. Now it's a FUSION of two universes, interacting and existing based on the actions of what our BBC AvengersLock is doing.

A fusion can ALSO be adapting or using a franchise storyline as inspiration for the plotline of what an author is writing, ie. the rules of ONE franchise's universe can be brought into another. So you can have a FUSION of Sherlock and the X-Files by adapting an X-Files episode as inspiration for the story with BBC Sherlock characters, but doesn't necessarily take place in the X-Files Universe, just simply the rules of the X-Files universe apply also to the BBC Sherlock Universe.

======

ALL that said, the gist of what I'm trying to say is this: All Crossovers and Fusions are Alternate Universes, but not all Alternate Universes are Crossovers/Fusions.

I tried my best to simplify everything as best I could, so I hope I helped a bit. And hey, if I'm wrong somewhere, or you want better clarification, feel free, all, to reply or send me another ask :)

Cheers, all <3

#steph replies #fanfiction #my thoughts #definitions #alternate universes vs crossovers #my definitions #ask me anything

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theladybarnes · 2 years

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SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO? : CHAPTER ONE

“You wanna know the worst thing that's ever happened here in the four years I've been working here? Do you wanna know the worst thing? It was when an owl attacked Eleanor Gillespie's head because it thought that her hair was a nest.”

▸ summary: first day of school, how weird can it get? ▸ characters: dustin henderson, steve harrington, and jonathan byers ▸ word count: 3.7k ▸ warnings: none ▸ series masterlist

The moment you stepped off the plane, the stale smell of Indiana viciously attacked your nose. You had been dreading this day for weeks. It was unfortunately inevitable.

It had been only three months ago that you were practically kicked out of your home. The punishment your parents seemed to see fit was to take you away from your sunny California home and relocate you to Hawkins, Indiana. Where you were to live with your Aunt Claudia and cousin Dustin. The two would hopefully “humble” you down enough to behave and become a respectful member of society.

Which was completely bullshit in your opinion.

The long bus ride into town only cemented your fear of living here. It wasn’t your first time around the town, having come there to visit early on when your cousin was born. But the dull and seemingly stuck in the past town was not ideal for you. There would be no thriving here, no living, just going day by day molding into the rest of backwards idiots that lived there.

At least this would be the way till you saved up enough to move out on your own and leave. Something you were terrified of considering you’ve spent the majority of your life in your father’s care. Where money wasn’t a problem and you could practically get away with anything.

Well, almost anything.

Filing out one by one off the bus, you were happy to set foot on the ground again. Letting the evening sun shine an orange glow over your skin and warming you up from the different weather.

You were barely grabbing your luggage from the driver when the loud sound of feminine voice called out your name. Cringing at the attention, you quickly step away from the bus to look for the person causing the noise.

“Over here sweetie!” Yelled your Aunt Claudia as she rushed over to you. A forced smile tugged at your lips as she pulled you into a tight hug. Despite the fact that you were imposing in her life, she seemed excited to see you. Making you feel worse about the situation. “My gosh you’ve grown so much. You’re taller than me now!”

“Yeah, well it’s been a couple of years now since you’ve last seen me.”

It was sort of unfortunate to have the only other family leave so far away growing up. Your Dad and Aunt weren’t as close growing up, despite the later efforts of Claudia later on. He didn’t bother giving back the love she seemed to seep.

“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up now.”

Her arm wrapped around you tightly, causing you to huff out a bit of air as she tugged you close. Leading you over to her car, taking one of your bags in her hands so that she could keep an arm around you. “Have you eaten?”

“Had a bag of chips on the bus ride from the airport.”

Her eyes widened, staring at you in shock before she tutted. “That simply won’t do. It’s good that I thought ahead. Got a big roasted chicken dinner waiting for you back home.”

Home

Though her words were meant to be comforting, they only reminded you that Hawkins had to be your new home for the year. Putting a heavy ache in your chest. “Home it is.” you mumbled.

It wasn’t till after dinner that you managed to finally settle in. Your Aunt had been kind enough to practically set up your room for you. Going as far to make your bed up and put away the clothes that had been sent before your arrival. The act of kindness being one of the few things that eased the ache in your chest since arriving.

You were debating on where to hang up your poster of The Bangles when a harsh knock came at your door. The clock showed the late hour, making you frown a bit before you set the poster down and walked to the door.

“You’re here!” Dustin cheered, barreling inside the room. He did a quick look around, admiring some of the additions you added to the design before he rushed to wrap his arms around you.

“I’m here.” You confirmed with a small laugh. It was kind of nice to see your baby cousin again. Having been the only other young family member in the Henderson clan. “And you smell like sweat!” The whiff of the outside seeped off his clothing, making you push him away as you patted at your clothes.

“Oops, sorry about that. Just got back from Mike’s.”

It finally gave you both a chance to give each other a once over. Dustin was still the same. Only having grown a few inches more since the last you saw him. Missing the front of his teeth as usual. But looking at his wide eyes, you could only assume that you looked more different than he remembered.

“You look..different.” He said bluntly, moving over to plop down on your desk chair. His hands reached out to play with one of your pens as he watched you resume back to hanging up the poster.

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s both?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you gave him a look before pinning the material down against the wall. “Well it’s been four years, Dustin. I think it’d be weird if I didn’t look different.” You stepped back to make sure it was a good angle before sitting down at the edge of your bed, looking over at the young boy again.

“Yeah, but you used to dress cooler.”

“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed now?” Scanning over your outfit, you tug at the end of your blouse. Back at home, you and all your friends were widely known for having great taste in clothes.

“You look like one of those girls that are on Knight Rider or Brooke Shields.” He frowned, chucking the pen behind him. “It’s not how you used to dress.”

Trying to think back on how you used to dress, you couldn’t help but scoff at the memory. You were always one to be dressed in oversized sweaters, pants that did nothing for your figure, and converse. Now you have style. It was something that was important to you. Not because it gave you attention from others, but because it made you feel better about yourself.

“Well, I hate to break it to you. But times have changed and so have I.”

Crossing your arms you watched as he twirled on the desk chair, making a small pout as he nodded his head. “I was hoping you wouldn’t.” He mumbled, sounding a lot younger now.

“Look,” you started, getting up so you could crouch to his level. “I may look different and like different things. But you’re still my favorite cousin right?”

“I’m your only cousin.”

“Exactly! So you don’t have anything to worry about.” You smirked, watching his confused face grow. “Now get the hell out of my chair because it’s late and I have to bike over to the stupid school tomorrow.”

“Your dad didn’t send your car?”

“No, the asshole is making me work for it.” He makes his way to the door, raising a brow at the comment. You waved your hand at him, urging him to continue on. “Meanwhile I’m stuck biking around like a total loser.”

Dustin shrugged his shoulders, pulling the door open before he looked back at you. “Don’t worry, just shape up and you’ll be cruising around in no time. Maybe even give me a lift now and then?”

His optimism pulled an amusing huff from your lips. “You sound so sure of that.” You muttered, playing with the hem of your shirt.

Your young cousin gave you one last sympathetic glance before making his exit. But not without some parting words.

“Well one of us has to. Otherwise, you’re screwed.”

Luckily, the next morning your meeting at the school wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be. Yes, you were sort of forced to start seeing the school’s guidance counselor; Ms. Kelley. But she seemed to understand that you weren’t exactly as thrilled about it and stated that you would be taking things slow and that everything was confidential.

Despite the fact that your incident took place over the summer, the sudden move was told to your old school and quickly told to your newest school. Meaning, even though you barely caused any trouble before, the staff at Hawkins would have a reason to watch over you now.

Glancing at your wrist, you check the time, noticing that pretty soon kids would be starting to arrive in bigger clusters. A very unusual feeling of anxiety built up in your stomach. For years you had a steady place in the chain at your old school. Having grown up with most of the “cool” or “popular” kids made it easy for you to slip in their crowd.

Especially with your ex being the leader of it all. But all that was gone. Now you had to calculate and figure out your place here with kids that seemed behind on just about everything.

Ignoring the pain in your gut, you made your way down the row or lockers. Trying to find yours when you noticed him. The first tell sign of the boy was his insane hair. It was possibly the biggest head of hair you’ve seen on a guy but he seemed to pull it off. The second was how preppy he seemed to dress, a usual sign of a popular kid.

Slowly you made your way over, looking as he frowned down at the locker. Trying to force a paper between the slots on the front. Even from the side he was noticeably cute, with pouty lips and long lashes. This wasn’t really a bad way to meet someone your age.

“Wow, my first day here and I already have someone putting notes in my locker.”

The boy jumped a bit, not having realized you were beside him. “Shit.” He chuckled, looking at you with wide eyes. “You’re new.”

“Yup,” you nodded, pointing at the metal door behind him. “And I’m trying to put my stuff away if you don’t mind moving.”

For a second his gaze scanned over your body, possibly trying to see if he recognized you or not. “This is your locker?” He frowned, checking the number again.

Waving the slip of paper given to you from the secretary, you allow him to take a peek at some of the details. “According to the school it’s mine.”

Chuckling again he stepped aside, extending his arm out so that you could move forward. While opening up the locker you take a quick glance at the boy again and notice him focusing on another paper.

“Having trouble there?” You inquired, raising a brow up at him.

“Yeah, the relic at the front desk wrote out the number on here and I swear this shit is chicken scratch.” He grumbled, making you chuckle before you peek over to look at the paper. The writing was terrible but you could see the problem right away

“That would be because you’re mixing up that zero for one. I believe you’re looking the next one over.”

Pointing to the one next to yours, you use your nails to tap lightly against the metal before finishing putting away things in your locker. This time he managed to successfully get the note in before he looked over at you again.

“Do I have something on my face?” You mused, slapping the door shut. You leaned against the locker, mimicking his pose as you stared back.

“You’re new.”

Rolling your eyes you let out a small laugh. “I thought we established that?”

“Sorry, it’s just, we don’t usually get anyone new. Especially around the middle of the year.”

You adjusted the strap to your bag, giving the boy a shrug. “Must make me really special then.”

The boy seemed to find that funny before nodding his head slightly. “I’m Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington.”

For some reason the name throws you off a bit. It reminded you of one of the glam rich characters from one of those day time soaps some girls would watch at school. “Quite a name.” You smirked before giving him yours. It’s weird to hear your name from him, making your heartbeat a bit faster.

Glancing down at your paper, you read over the name for your next class. Ignoring the way you’ve become slightly flustered over a simple name exchange. “If we’re done with the niceties, I’ll head over to Mrs. Click’s class now.”

Spinning on your heel, you don’t really pay him any mind as you make your way down the hall. It isn’t till he’s grabbing at your elbow gently that you stop walking.

“Miss Click's that way.” He smiled pointing in the other direction.

Cocking your chin out, you nod your head and move towards that direction. Again, the mysterious Steve is at your side again. “I would assume the girl you’re leaving that note for wouldn’t like to see you following me around.”

“I’m not following you around.” He objected, nose scrunching lightly before his brown eyes were back to you. “I’m just showing the new girl to her first class. Some might say that’s a pretty decent thing to do.”

Your eyes rolled again. But the small charm that lingered on his teasing tone was kind of getting to you. “Well, I suppose it’s alright you helped me out since you needed my assistance with finding the right locker.”

“Exactly!” He grinned, “it’s the least that I could do.”

A couple of students passing by gawked as the two of you passed by them. Making you wonder if being new really was such an oddity. “Sorry about the stares.” Steve coughed. He kept his gaze forward, acting as if people weren’t looking. “They kind of do that from time to time.”

“You’re telling me people openly stare at you?” The two of you slowed down as you walked towards a short hall. Giving you enough time to glance at him again.

“When you’re king of the school it tends to happen.” He said as a matter of fact.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you couldn’t help but let out a small scoff. For a moment, it almost sounded like he was proud about that.. “And you’re so humble about it.”

He raised his hands up defensively, giving a small sly grin. “I didn’t ask to be King, the people just pick who they want to love. Happens to be me.”

It’s hard to disguise your unimpressed face. A second ago, Steve really seemed like a pretty cool guy, a bit of a flirt but still cool. But now in front of other people you could see this shell start to form on him. You’ve seen it on people before. Hell, you’ve dated someone like that before.

But it didn’t stop from the slight disappointment forming in your mind. “Alright your highness, thanks for the walk.” You waved, not needing to hear him continue to talk about himself.

“See you around, newbie!” He yelled, not noticing you shake your head as you entered the classroom.

Eventually the day passed, you had to mostly skip out on lunch to confer with a couple of teachers on work you might need to rush on to catch up. But it wasn’t anything too hard. Soon enough the final bell rang and you ran out of your last classroom.

Students buzzed by, making plans to hang out, or discussing projects as you walked down the hall. Some eyes followed you, watching as they tried to figure out what kind of person their school’s newest student would be like. If you were being honest, you weren’t so sure yourself.

There was no plan on what you were going to do here, but you knew for sure you were going to try and stick out of trouble. It was just going to be hard considering you had no idea who amongst the sea of people were considered good news or bad.

“Can I just say that I absolutely love your outfit?”

A girl with bright blue eyes and brown eyes gushed as she approached you. She was a little on the shorter side but her eyes were wide and gleaming as she took in your appearance. “Where did you get that look?”

Smiling a bit, you glance down at everything before smiling back at her. “The pants are Guess, the top is from Benetton and the shoes are Reebok.” Her eyes lit up more, seeming to know some of the brands you wore.

“You seriously have quite some taste.” She smirked, extending an arm out. “I’m Carol.” Giving her hand a quick shake, you give her your name back. Seeing out of the corner of your eye a boy across the walkway looking at you curiously. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to boys staring, but in this case, he seemed wary of you.

“You’re new right?” Carol asked, drawing your attention back to her.

“That seems to be the consensus.”

She looked back at you confused, not seeming to understand. “Yeah, I’m new.” you confirmed, holding back an eye roll. “I was a bit busy today since I’m still getting adjusted.”

“Right! Then tomorrow we should definitely meet up and get to know each other!” she gushed, flipping a curl with her hand. “I gotta meet up with my boyfriend Tommy, but maybe we can..” Her words die off from your focus the more you notice the boy across the hall staring at you. His eyes were dark, giving his stare a piercing chill.

“Uhh Carol, right?” The girl nods her head enthusiastically. “Let’s meet up by the front entrance tomorrow. I’ll answer any curious question you have then.” Getting her smile of approval, you waved goodbye to the girl before turning your heel towards the boy.

He seemed nervous now to have your attention, moving towards the back exit. “Hey creep!” you yelled out, catching up to stand at his side. He seemed to get embarrassed by your words. It isn’t till you’re gripping at his sleeve that he stops to look back at you.

“Look, sorry for staring. I didn’t mean to.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, finding his reaction a bit amusing. “Really? Because prolonged eye contact didn’t deter you from doing that?” A small shade of pink flushed on his cheeks before you waved it off. “Why were you staring?”

He huffed out a small breath before he shrugged a shoulder lightly. “Your last name. It’s Henderson right?” Nodding your head, you watch him collect his next question. “By any chance, are you related to Dustin Henderson?”

“Yes, he’s my little cousin. I’m staying with him and my Aunt for a while. Why?” you crossed your arms. Unsure how this random kid knew who your family was.

“He’s friends with my little brother, Will.”

Mouthing an ‘o’ you nod your head at him again. “Right, well I haven’t exactly met any of his little friends yet.”

A noticeable look of disappointment washed over his face before he looked down at his feet. “My little brother hasn’t been seen since last night..” he said softly. “I’m just trying to cover all places that I could possibly find him.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all you could think to say. The thought of someone your cousin’s age disappearing made your stomach twist up. It probably had to be nerve wrecking to be in his position. “I’ll be on the lookout? What’s he look like?”

The man reached into his pocket to pull out a photo. It was a school year book copy and you couldn’t help but smile a bit at the fresh boy’s face. Doe eyes and smile wide as he posed for the picture. “His name is Will.” He extends a hand out for you to shake, which you do. “I’m Jonathan by the way.”

“I’ll be sure to have Dustin call if there’s anything. This town’s not so big, I’m sure he’ll come out soon enough. Probably just having a bad day?”

Jonathan seemed slightly skeptical of your answer. Possibly seeing it as too optimistic for whatever his mind was thinking this was. “Yeah, I hope so.” With a small nod to you, he adjusted the strap of his backpack and made his way to the exit. Bringing an end to your weird first day of school.

Your Aunt was quick to update you further on the case of Will Byers. Telling you all she knew about the bright boy. He was friends with your cousin the moment they all met up in grade school. Coming and going to each other’s houses for years now. She mentioned that while Will was shy, he was very much a happy enthusiastic boy. Making his sudden disappearance out of character.

It all made you feel worse for the boy you had met today.

Despite the plaguing thoughts about the missing boy, you continued to attempt to settle in your new home when the house phone began to ring. The sound of the loud ringing echoed all the way into your room. It wasn’t till the sound of your Aunt calling out for you that you found out it was for you.

Unsure who would even be able to reach for you out here, you picked up the handle, bringin the receiver to the ear before your cousin’s panicked voice came through.

“Whoa, Dustin, why the hell are you yelling?”

“You need to come to the Wheeler house!”

“What’s wrong?” You asked, worried why of all people Dustin needed you to come. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! We just need you to come see this..”

The sound of your Aunt humming from the living room as she picked up the place caught your attention. It wouldn’t be good if something happened to Dustin like his friend. “Dustin, I don’t have time to be playing your games. Besides, should you be out right now? You know your-”

“Will you just trust me and get the hell over here!?”

“Watch the tone, brat.” you hissed into the phone.

“Fine! Fine, I'm sorry. Please. I need you. Mom can’t know.”

Sighing, you looked back at your Aunt, figuring that looking out for Dustin was one of the things you could at least do while imposing yourself in her home.

“Fine, give me an address.”

A/N: Well! It’s the start of a new series. i wanted to write for Steve so much since I read a lot of stories while sick. I hope you guys enjoy my newest character. Don’t really have a nickname for her like I usually do with my series. But maybe one might come along later on. Anyway! I hope you enjoyed chapter one~

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #sisosig #slow burn

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hitchell-mope · 4 months

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Hello there! 👋 So, the HP TV series is underway, and fortunately, both David Yates and Steve Kloves are NOT involved, and HBO Max stated on its Twitter that this series will be faithful to the books.

Several websites, like Collider and ScreenRant and GameRant and Reddit, have articles stating that they hope that, in the TV series, Ron and Ginny, and Romione and Hinny, will be portrayed accurately to the books. It's nice that more people are starting to recognize that both characters and both relationships were severely under-represented in the movies, as well as acknowledging that so many of Ron's best moments, and even some of Harry's moments, in the books (the real canon) were all unfairly and stupidly given to Hermione in the movies because of Kloves and Yates — who instead kept making Hermione perfect and badass when she wasn't supposed to be and kept inserting non-canon Harmony moments that literally never existed in the books. Even Bonnie Wright recently admitted, in a podcast, that she was disappointed that she wasn't allowed to portray the real Ginny in the movies.

[BTW Harmony is such a bad ship name that literally doesn't even make sense if one actually read the books — Harry doesn't like Hermione romantically because he doesn't find her attractive, he's prone to ignoring her many times, and he finds her bossy know-it-all nature to be annoying, and he doesn't like it when he and Hermione are alone together without Ron because they have next to nothing to talk about.]

[At the very least, Daniel Radcliffe said in 2014 that he was very happy that Hinny happened, and he didn't like the thought of Harmony getting together because it would've been a bit predictable.]

I have three Asks for you:

1) Would you watch this TV series when it comes out in 2025, with the knowledge that it's (hopefully) going to be faithful to the books as promised and Yates and Kloves are NOT involved?

2) What do you hope will happen in the TV series? Personally, I hope that — in addition to Ron, Ginny, Romione and Hinny being portrayed accurately — the moment where Harry and Ginny play Exploding Snap at the end of Chamber of Secrets will be added in, as a Call-Forward to Cursed Child (as a married couple, Ginny tells Harry that, after she left the hospital wing and returned to the Gryffindor common room, everyone shunned her, but Harry played Exploding Snap with her to cheer her up, and his kindness towards her in that moment caused her to truly fall in love with him).

3) How much do you want to bet that, as soon as Kloves and Yates heard that the TV series is promising to be faithful to the books, they decided to stay out of it because it meant that they couldn't insert any more controversial non-canon moments towards Hermione and Harmony anymore?

Take your time responding and answering my questions, I know I wrote a lot 😅

———————————————————————

Hiya. Sorry this took so long.

I probably won’t be watching because. A. I don’t have hbo. And. B. I don’t really thought no the books need to be adapted again so soon. If at all.

I don’t consider cursed child canon. But I do think it would be nice for hinny to get some more bonding moments because the films severely shortchanged them.

Ooooh. I bet they were tearing their hair out.

Hopefully this answers all your questions.

#submission #harry potter #hinny #pro hinny #romione #pro romione #ron weasley #ginny weasley #ron weasley defense squad #ginny weasley defense squad #anti steve kloves #anti david yates #anti harmony #anti harmione

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toomanybandstocare · 1 year

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{Doubts Even Here, New Order}

Program: News of your disappearance and last known where abouts have folded into the city police reports. After a call into the station and a reunion with the former Hawkins police chief, nothing sits right in Billy. Not the lax reactions of your friends to the news. Not city sheriff's quick accusations. Certainly not the woman of his nightmares at the steps of your apartment. What happened to you?

Pairings: Billy Hargrove & Missing, GN! Reader

Genre: Angst and Mystery

Length: 2678w

Warnings: Themes of abduction/missing persons disappearance, Police officers and stations (only a passing accusation of who did it, no harassment or violence), References and discussions of depression

Isolation | Camp Upside Down Masterlist

Counselor Notes: Hi ya, campers. I hope spooky season is treating you well :) I've working on this on and off for a while before I finally got hit with an itch to write/finish it. I'm hoping to post once a week one here and hopefully chat with more campers! I hope you enjoy, and I would love to hear your thoughts and theories! Reblog banner at the end is made by @maysdigitalarts- again thank you so much!

“Look, Hopper,” Steve’s voice hoarse from just waking up, “We didn’t see ‘em around after the get together at Nance’s place. When I did get through on the phone, just said it was a cold. Shouldn’t last more than a week- two at most. It’s only been a week”.

Hopper sighs and pinches his nose with one of his hands. “Steve, I’m not even going to comment on how wrong that logic is. For a friend in general or one who is sick”. Shaking his head, Hopper claps his hands and keeps them in front of his legs as his eyes lock onto Billy.

“Going to tell us why we found a key to the apartment addressed to you in a perfect match to the sample handwriting,” Hopper asks but it comes out more like a demand when paired with a cold stare as he leans against the city sheriff’s desk.

Billy curls into himself slightly under the man’s unwavering gaze. His mind fuzzy as he tries to process what Hopper has shared with them. “No,” Billy whispers. His tongue darts across his dry lips before he bites down on the inside of his cheek.

The entire Hawkins crew sit in the sheriff’s office in uncomfortable metal chairs lined up in front of their own police chief. Each young adult had stumbled into the station early this morning from a chilling phone call requesting their cooperation in their friend’s disappearance investigation. The dreary, dull blue walls displaying newspaper clippings and awards seem to slowly warp and fall into the room. A suffocating confinement that makes each person shift in their seats.

“You know how this looks with an answer like that, Billy,” Hopper sighs exasperated. He lets go of the tension in his shoulders and relaxes with a cross of his leg. “I’m only here as a consultant,” Hopper looks at each of the kids’ terrified expressions, “I can’t protect you anymore. It looks bad for all of you, that Wheeler’s apartment party was the last known appearance. It looks awful that your name was left at what is now being considered a possible abduction scene”. His brown eyes hone in on Billy. Taking in the room, Hopper looks down at his feet before continuing: “With how all of your records look- FBI classified restriction and multiple arrests- you’re all suspects. I can only provide testimonies to your characters and help try to figure out habits that could result in possible leads”.

Hopper’s words flood Billy’s ears, but they sound muted. Distant. Yet, solid. As if a verdict has already been reported by the jury. Without thinking, Billy moves his shaking hand to the chair to his right and clutches a trembling, clammy ring clad hand. His fingernails bite into Eddie’s palm as the other’s callous fingers trace his scarred knuckles.

“Are they already there,” Billy’s hoarse voice breaks through the thick static ringing through the air. All wide eyes lock onto his hunched form. “The cops, I mean,” he tries again and ignores the concerned looks.

“No,” Hopper confesses slowly. His eyes squint with suspicion. “Why do you ask?”

“I said some,” Billy pauses with the heavy words sitting on his tongue, “pretty inconsiderate things last I saw ‘em. I knew something was off after I shut my big mouth for a minute, and it hasn’t been sitting right with me since that night”. Billy closes his eyes tight as he squeezes Eddie’s hand in a searing grip. As if the blurring colors painting the back of his lids and faint memory of your ghost at the party that replays in his mind will whisk him away. Swallowing bile stinging his throat, Billy opens his eyes and meets Hopper’s serious expression with a look of determination. “Give me five minutes in there,” he pleads. As Hopper shifts and opens his mouth to protest, Billy quickly spits out his next words. “I barely know ‘em, sure. Technically, interfering with an investigation if I get caught. I know. Just let me try to help,” Billy’s words come out a harsh whisper. “You didn’t see what I did that night. A broken shell sitting in a bean bag chair silently screaming for help, and none of us saw past our egos to actually care enough. Myself included”.

The seconds hang in the stale air. Not a single breath broke the heavy atmosphere. As all eyes look towards Billy, he keeps his gaze trained forward. Piercing blue eyes dare to hold Hopper’s grave gaze.

Leaning forward and resting his hands on the metal chair arms, Hopper crowds Billy’s space. His voice lowly rumbles in the room. A hushed exchange of words passes his lips before Hopper leans back against the desk once more. His eyes glint with a knowing acknowledgement, but they dart to the door when it slams open.

“So, who did it,” a booming voice demands from behind the line of chairs.

“That’s not how this works,” Hopper barks back, “They’re all good kids who want their friend back. I have a better idea of how that night went, so we can make a more accurate timeline before heading out”.

Hopper walks around the groups of kids and pats Billy on the shoulder before following the sheriff out the door. With the faint click from the door’s latch, Billy launches out of his chair causing a chorus of metal screeching, chair crashing, and friends crying out loud.

“What the fuck, Hargrove,” Steve yells after Billy.

“Billy, we can’t go yet,” Robin pleads.

“Come one man, knock it off. We’re on thin ice right now,” Eddie says and shoots his hand out to try to tug back his friend. Jean jacket just out of reach.

“What do you know,” Nancy demands.

All their shouts whir in the air as Billy throws him out of the room and runs through the station. Not paying attention to his surroundings as he makes a beeline to his trusty Camaro.

“You got maybe an hour before these city slickers can’t put up with my stalling,” Hopper’s words echo in his mind.

Billy’s feet slap and propel him out the entry way as he haphazardly stumbles down the cement stairs. His searching eyes lock onto the pristine, blue muscle car just past the stairway. With no time to waste, Billy runs to his car and quickly unlocks the door to slide into his safe haven. Igniting the roaring engine, Billy skids out of his parking spot to the sound of car horns and cussing. He taps his fingers against the leather wheel and glances at the small polaroid of you, him, and Max at her graduation that sits on his dash. He’ll be damned if he gives up on the one person who never gave up on him.

The drive to your apartment is filled with tense silence as Billy navigates the streets as carelessly as he can spare as an active suspect. Yet standing in front of the apartment’s looming entrance, Billy finds his fingers trembling just inches before the doorbell.

“I was wondering when you’d show up here,” a soft voice from over his shoulder startles Billy.

Forcing his shoulders and spine straight, Billy turns to face the girl everyone loves. Chrissy’s blonde locks gently sway against her scarred jaw as she smiles up at him from the bottom step. His mouth runs dry at the sight of his former classmate. The one who got away from Hawkins and vanished into the night. Without a word. Her name becoming a whisper in the wind. Here she stands with a paper bag of groceries just as beautiful as the last day he saw her in the halls of Hawkins High. Chrissy’s gleaming smile replays Billy’s memory like a splice in a movie film.

“I thought,” his ragged voice trails off. Eyes wide in shock follows her graceful movements as she floats past him.

“You thought I was dead?” she hummed with the lock’s click.

“No,” Billy rushes out, “I thought you escaped. Went to a community college or something. Never thought you were still in state”.

Chrissy’s laugh comes across more as a light shrill as she opens the door and gestures for him with a gentle flick of the wrist to follow her. “Well here I am, Billy Hargrove,” she declares. Brilliant blue eyes holding his own stoic look as they stand in the apartment’s entryway.

The air seems to stand still when the door shuts behind them. Unable to tear his gaze away from the woman of nightmares, Billy wonders how this situation truly began. Chrissy Cunningham is a siren that had easily casted a spell over their high school and had soon washed over the whole town. Her primrose pink lipstick makes his stomach churn. Hi fingers twitch as buried memories resurface.

Forcing stale oxygen into his heavy lungs, Billy clears his throat. “I came by to -,” he tries to speak.

“Last door on the right. Opposite the kitchen,” her soft voice cuts through him like a chilling autumn wind. Chrissy’s unwavering smile causes Billy’s muscles to tense. A prickling sting at the back of his head keeps him alert as he carefully follows her directions.

A gray overcast blankets the solemn apartment the further Billy creeps. His heart hammers against his ribs as his boots echo from the kitchen tiles. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything,” Chrissy calls from behind him. The sound of paper rustling interrupts static stinging his mind.

His eyes lock onto the poster plastered door to your bedroom as he mumbles, “Wasn’t planning on staying here long, and your reappearance doesn't bode well”.

“You make it sound like I did it,” her voice significantly quieter.

Tearing his eyes away from the Lost Boys poster, Billy whips his head to look at Chrissy only to see an empty, white tiled kitchen. “What was that? Couldn’t hear ya,” he calls out. Billy’s breath catches as he waits for a response. Silence envelopes the building. Not even the city’s comforting cacophony breaches the interior.

Billy’s face creases into a nervous expression as he redirects his attention back to your bedroom door. He reaches for the doorknob, and his fingers graze against a small weave of thread. Unlooping what he now recognizes as a bracelet, Billy rubs the textile with his thumb. The very same bracelet that your supposed friend group made one night after the fatal earthquake. You never took off this bracelet. Every time he saw you - group movie nights, run-ins at the farmer’s market, coffee catch up - Billy noticed the flash of colorful thread as you moved your hands in wild gestures to follow along with your words. So, why did you leave such an important piece of you behind?

With a deep breath, Billy pockets the bracelet and covers his hand with his jacket sleeve as he opens the door. He’s not even sure what he was hoping to find or how he could even help, yet here he is. Stepping into your room and closing the door behind him, Billy stumbles and bumps the door from the sight of your room torn apart. Papers pinned haphazardly over posters and photos. Dresser drawers askew with clothing spewing over. Desk littered with ripped pieces of paper and books carelessly left teetering on the edge.

“Red thread one- abduction,” Billy mutters as he carefully steps over a broken picture frame. Sparing a moment, he crouches down as glass crunches underneath his boots and scrapes against the floor as he picks up the frame with his jacket’s sleeve covering his hand. A photo of the entire group of them smiles up at him, only the faces of your beloved friends are etched out with pen. Almost to the point where light peeks through the small tears in the polaroid. “Or red thread two- missing person or runaway,” he trails off. Carefully, he pulls the photo from the frame and puts it back how he found it. Moving the photograph, Billy’s eyebrows pinch together when he comes across your familiar scrawl. His eyes dart along the messy handwriting and widen as he processes the message: “Skull rock breaks hearts. Indiannapolis shatters souls. For a fresh start, I’ll take a coffee alone in the rainy city”. Standing tall, Billy tucks the polaroid in his chest pocket with the bracelet and surveys the room. Another thumb tack to attach to red thread two. Now, what?

“That room has always been rather…messy,” a faint voice breaks the silence.

“You make it sound like no one’s lived in here for some time,” Billy points out as he tiptoes further into the room. Each careful footstep avoids disturbing the alleged crime scene.

“It’s true,” Chrissy's voice is accompanied by the slow drag of a fingernail against the wooden doorframe, “Or at least it is when you live with the ghost of a person. If I’m being honest, this is the most I’ve seen this room lived in”.

Billy’s body freezes at the contradiction. He turns to face Chrissy’s relaxed form leaning in the open doorway, “You said it was alway messy”.

“I never said what kind though,” she softly says as an eerie smile slithers onto her face.

Before Billy can even open his mouth to inquire further, Chirssy slips just out of sight and into the kitchen. The rush of water floods his ears and ceramic clanks hit the counter.

“Depression reeks,” her voice falls harsh against the faucet’s roar, “It festers and lingers until it becomes all consuming”.

Unable to pull his gaze away from the door, Billy knows he should spend his ticking minutes carefully. Her words capture his attention and ensnares him.

“You’re…not wrong, but don’t you think that’s a harsh way to put it?” Billy’s voice strained. His chest barely moves as he forces air into his lungs. Almost afraid to make a noise in case he misses Chrissy’s cold voice.

“Sooner or later it becomes all consuming. It eats you from the inside out until it nips at the ones you keep close in life,” she hums as the stovetop ignites with a hiss. “Depression will force you to imagine and believe in the worst scenarios that just play on repeat in your head. Until it warps and invades what you perceive as reality. It either makes you stagnant- frozen in time. Or it makes you run- run from everything that could go well for you in the guise of nothing going well”.

“What does this have to do with my visit,” Billy takes one last look at your disheveled room before toeing over to the doorway. Leaning against the doorframe, he watches Chrissy pour two cups of steaming water into mugs and carefully place tea bags in each.

Her slanted smile stings Billy’s senses as they hold each other’s gazes from across the kitchen island. Sneering into a snarl, Chrissy leans against the cool stone top: “Are you really that blind as to what happened? Or have you helped wash blood off your hands and the hands of another?”

As Billy takes a step closer to her, an invading knock at the front door breaks his attention. Adrenaline spikes his heart as air rushes through his lungs. “Ya got a back door,” Billy’s voice hastily asks. When he turns his head back to the kitsch, he’s met with only steam rising from the mugs.

“Over here,”Chrissy calls. Billy follows her voice just around the hallway corner where he stands toe to toe with Chrissy who holds open the door. Even with the height difference in his favor, Billy’s knees feel slightly numb as he meets Chrissy’s eyes.

“Don’t come back until you know they won’t look for you,” she hisses and hurriedly pushes him out of the apartment.

Still in a daze as the door closes behind him, Billy warily drags his feet over to the edge of the apartment. His shaky hand grasps onto the shingled wood as he peers out to see the city police car parked just behind his trusty camaro.

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