#steve harrington getting in fights to defend his friends
Note
Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕
ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)
“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.
Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”
You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once.
He’s lucky he’s so pretty.
“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”
“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.
“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”
“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”
“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.
“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.
“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.
“You,” Eddie deadpans.
You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”
“Wait, what?”
Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”
Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?”
The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.
“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”
Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”
“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”
“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.
“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.
“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.
Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”
“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.
All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.
“You have everything but the looks.”
“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”
“Can’t I?”
“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.
“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.
“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”
“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”
Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back.
“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.
Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”
“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.
Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.
“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”
Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.
“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.
“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”
“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”
“It’s different. You know that.”
You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean.
You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.
“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.
“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”
The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too.
You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.
“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.
“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”
“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”
“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”
You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie.
He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.
Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”
“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”
He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”
“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”
Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.
You cower under his stare. “What?”
“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.
“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.
“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”
“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”
“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.
You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.
“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”
You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”
Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again.
This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.
Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.
“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”
“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”
“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”
“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.
“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”
“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”
Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.
The game of cat and mouse continues.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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This is easily the most inconvenient moment possible for Eddie to have a hard-on and yet, here he is, standing in the remains of what used to be the Hawkins Public Library with his dick hard as a rock in his pants.
Eddie had heard tell of a nailbat, rumors of Steve Harrington’s weapon of choice in dealing with matters related to the Upside Down, but it had seemed mythical to him. The way the boys talked about Steve wielding it made him sound like a hero from some ancient mythology.
“You should have seen him, Eddie,” Dustin would grip Eddie’s arm with a grasp that hurt as he regaled Eddie with the tale of Steve in the Junkyard Fighting the Demodogs once more. “He was such a badass, like, so insanely cool!”
Eddie is deeply glad that he was not present at that battle, but there is a part of him that wishes he could have seen it. That he could have seen Steve wield the suburban equivalent of a mace while trying to defend his brood of strange children.
Not that Eddie would ever admit that, of course. He and Steve are tentative friends, and Eddie is not going to risk what progress he and Steve have made in maintaining a civil relationship just because he thinks the guy is hot. Of course he thinks Steve is hot, so does every other breathing human in Hawkins, Indiana.
So, yeah, Eddie is keeping that piece of information to himself. Taking it to his grave. Besides, they’re in the middle of an apocalypse and now is hardly the time for getting horny over Steve Harrington proving competence with a blunt instrument.
But apparently Eddie’s dick never got that memo. Because he’s standing here watching Steve knock those goddamn fucking demobats out of the spore infested Hawkins sky with his infamous bat, dripping with blood and snarling at the monsters. He swings with a terrifying rage in his eyes, laser focused on removing each and every single bat from the sky with a sort of feral grace that shouldn’t be possible.
Eddie watches, pants uncomfortably tight, as Steve makes one final swing at the last bat standing (flying?) with a flourish of his wrist, giving the nailbat a little twirl before using it to strike the last creature down.
Steve Harrington is absolutely unreal.
He turns around to face Eddie and Eddie is reminded that, oh yeah, they’re in the middle of a massive battle right now and he had maybe let himself get a little distracted and wow, the blood dripping through Steve’s chest hair as he tosses the nailbat onto his shoulder with practiceed ease is really doing it for Eddie, which would be fine (well, not fine, but at least somewhat manageable) if it were literally any other moment in time.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks Eddie, voice hoarse and raspy in a way that really shouldn’t be sexy because it’s probably caused by Steve breathing spores and demobat guts or something else equally horrifying, but it is hot and there is something deeply wrong with Eddie.
And maybe there is some single solitary shred of mercy left remaining in the universe, because Steve is seemingly too focused on the war waging around them to clock the bulge in Eddie’s pants.
“Yup!” Eddie nods, feeling like a bobble head in his enthusiasm. “Great! Feeling great! Never better!”
Steve gives him an odd look, considering, but seems to accept Eddie’s assertion that he’s unharmed. He probably just attributes the strange behavior to Eddie’s general weirdness, which is perfectly fine with Eddie.
“Good,” Steve’s eyes drift to the steadily growing dark cloud that obscures much of the red sky. “Let’s get moving then.”
He stomps past Eddie, clapping him on the shoulder as he passes. Eddie closes his eyes and scrapes the corners of his mind for the least sexy thoughts he can summon to will his boner away.
“You coming?” Steve calls back from a few yards behind Eddie.
“Right behind you, big boy,” Eddie says. He takes a deep breath in and out before turning to follow Steve back into the fray.
#um. i can explain.#i was inspired by a post#i wrote a different ending to this that was um. well#but i thought that maybe i shouldn’t post that since i know i have minors following me on here#btw!!#minors dni#ok bye i gotta go do something else now#steddie#steve#eddie#ficlet#my writing#anya.txt
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Adorably Clueless || Steve Harrington
Summary: Request - So everyone rags on Steve for being stupid right so here’s the idea the reader who is pretty smart acts clueless about a lot of things and asks Steve for help because they don’t like the way the others jokingly call him stupid all the time... Read Rest Here
A/N: We’re pretending Robin and Steve are friends their senior year of high school, everything is moved up a year. Dustin and co are in eighth grade and reader/Steve/Robin/Nancy are seniors. K thanks <3Thank you for the request @loving-and-dreaming
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Y/N
Word Count: 3.5k +
“Can I have a ride to school?” Dustin asked as you slid into the seat next to him running a bit behind this morning. You’d taken a little extra time to make sure you looked a little bit nicer than normal. Steve was around. He was always around. And you’d be lying if you didn’t say you had a little crush on him. You and every girl in Hawkins that was.
You quirked your eyes up to him while pouring the remaining orange juice into your glass, “No Harrington this morning?” Asking inquisitively. Steve had been picking Dustin up early the last few days throwing you out of your normal rhythm with the middle schooler.
He shook his head quickly, “No, we finished that project.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Rolling your eyes, you put the bacon and eggs your mom had made up onto your plate in a hurry, “Yeah, sure. Not like I have to go anywhere else.” You snickered knowing Dustin had to walk down the hill to the middle school, you couldn’t be bothered to drop him off then park.
Your mom sighed gathering the attention of both you and your brother, “I’m glad you’re driving him again, Y/N.” She smiled at you giving your hand a pat.
You frowned almost immediately at that comment, “Why? Steve’s perfectly fine at driving him.”
She gave you a tight-lipped smile knowing how you were. You weren’t going to back down from a fight, you never did, “Well, you know what they say.” She chuckled looking at Dustin who simply gave her the same look of confusion.
Shaking your head quickly you deadpanned at her, “I actually don’t mom. Enlighten me, will you?” You snapped back feeling all the irritation bubbling to the surface. Of course, you knew what they said about Steve. He was dumb. He was irresponsible. He would never get out of Hawkins. Blah blah blah. You might’ve believed that in the past but no longer was that the case. After you saw how he treated your younger brother you saw him in an entirely new light. Steve was kind. Steve was sweet. Steve was beyond thoughtful. You were crushing hard on the boy. And you’d done a pretty damn good job at hiding it. Right up until now. You were definitely giving it away now. Dustin’s eyes burning into the side of your head told you so.
She gave another quick, nervous laugh before clearing Dustin’s plate, “He’s just trouble sweetheart.”
“Typical.” You grumbled feeling annoyed as hell by your mother’s dismissal of the sweet man you’d observed over the last few months.
Dustin looked over at you giving you a curious look. You were usually mouthy with your parents but never pushed it too far. This was pushing it beyond what he was used to. And for Steve? He thought that was odd. Especially for you. He’d learned almost everything from you. You were analytical. Smart. Only spoke up when you knew you were right. Why were you defending Steve Harrington so boldly?
“What’s that honey?” She asked turning back to the two of you.
“You of all people shouldn’t believe the gossip. Thought you told us not to judge a book by its cover mother?” Refusing to look at either of them you decided on staring at the plate in front of you.
Her nervous smile gave it all away, “Sure. Now, off you go. Don’t want to be late to school now do we kids?”
You frowned annoyed as hell by the utter dismissal of the conversation. Oh, so typical. Rolling your eyes, you stood not even attempting to clear your plate, “Come on Dusty. We’ve got some learning to do.” You didn’t wait before grabbing your backpack and keys and walking out the front door without so much as a goodbye. Dustin followed quickly yelling a goodbye leaving a very quiet house for a very mouthy woman to deal with.
When Dustin jumped into the passenger seat of your old sedan you looked over at him. He was giving you the weirdest look. Studying you, “What?” You asked deciding to do your seatbelt instead of looking at him. You couldn’t look at him. No, that’d actually give you away.
“What was that about?” He asked not deciding to hold it back.
“What was what about?” You played dumb. It was so much easier. So, so much easier than explaining a stupid little crush that’d go absolutely nowhere.
He shook his head leaning back into the seat, “Steve? You’ve never mentioned his name before. Now you’re yelling at mom over breakfast about him? Thanks for that by the way.” He smiled knowing you’d always have his back.
You shrugged while backing out of the driveway, “I don’t know… You like him. He fills a gap I can’t fill. So why shouldn’t I defend him?” Trying to play it off you were thankful you had a reason to keep your eyes forward and on the road.
He nodded his head not fully believing you as his eyes narrowed in on you, observing you, “Sure, Y/N. That’s all.”
You nod quickly not daring to look over at your overly observant brother. Weren’t boys supposed to be clueless? Why was every single one of them clueless except Dustin? Of course, your brother wasn’t defective like a majority of the male population, “Yup. That’s all Dustin.”
The rest of the ride was nearly silent as Dustin sat there staring at you. He wasn’t going to give it up and neither were you. So, silence it was. When you parked the car in the lot you turned to him, “Not a word is mentioned of this morning to him. Do you need a ride home?”
Dustin smirked. The little fucker smirked. He unbuckled his seat belt and gave you the biggest grin, “Can’t guarantee that and nope. Steve is driving me home. We’re doing some investigating after school.”
You shook your head, “For once. Keep your big mouth shut. What are you even investigating? It’s Hawkins.” Giving him a curious glance, you stepped out of the worn-down vehicle trying not to be too late to class.
He jumped out of the car mimicking your actions, “Again, can’t guarantee that dear sister. And exactly. It’s Hawkins, there’s lots to investigate.” He grabbed his backpack before turning off to head down towards the middle school, “I’ll be back late, let mom know.” He waved knowing it was best to not give you the last word. Whatever. You’d cover for him like you always did. Steve was good for him. Just like Mike, Lucas and Will. It was never lost on you how you were always a touch jealous of your younger brothers ability to make true friendships. You’d only had one true friend. Thankfully, she was in most of your classes. You’d have gone insane have to deal with this whole high school thing alone.
As Steve got to know Dustin more you got to know him a little better too. It got under your skin how everybody so casually called him dumb or stupid. He was neither. He just played a part. A part you were easily able to see behind. He was his true authentic self around your brother, at your house. You’d caught him talking nerdy with your brother and asking questions somebody dumb would never. Steve was a master at his craft. An illusionist who needed to be the center of attention. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure that part of him out. For that you’d have to have a real-life conversation. One you often shied away from. Little did you know Steve was determined to get that conversation out of you, Dustin’s far too shy older sister. The girl he’d been crushing on since his split with Nancy.
He knew he was a goner the first time he really saw the real you. You were arguing with your mom, something he’d learned was commonplace in your household. He was amazed by your ability to express your words. You so flawlessly got your point across in a way he’d never seen. You were in his classes, but he’d never really seen you before. You were beautiful. Especially once your younger brother talked you up without even realizing it. He’d started to fall for you without even having a proper conversation. He wasn’t going to give up though. He wasn’t planning on going to Dustin, but he was starting to run through all his options. Every time he tried to dive in a little bit deeper you gave him that deer in headlights look. A look of knowing he was pushing the boundaries a little too hard. He’d back off. But then he got absolutely nowhere with you. Until you started coming to him for little things. You’d ask him a math question, one you’d obviously know the answer too, but one you knew he knew the answer to as well. Something to boost his confidence. For even you knew he heard the snide remarks about his intelligence. He was human too.
In English you’d ask him a silly grammar rule. In Phys Ed you asked him how to correctly shoot the basketball even though you’d been taught a thousand times over by Dustin and his know-it-all friends. In Spanish you’d ask him a simple question, beaming with pride when he answered back correctly. Little by little you tried to help him in the smallest of ways.
He was doomed, doomed from your sweetness. You’d taken his heart without the simplest of clues to doing so. He was trying to give you all the signs, the signs that showed he was incredibly interested in everything you had to offer. But you were clueless. Absolutely clueless to it all. For as smart as you are you were oblivious to him right in front of you. If he couldn’t figure it out soon he’d have to go to Dustin to get to you. He’d gotten the sense that only Dustin could talk some reason into you.
You’d been a pro at avoiding Steve at school that day. He hadn’t a clue as to why you were being so elusive. You were far too aware of your feelings to even try and approach a semi-normal conversation with the man. Avoiding him was your best option.
“You’re acting weird Y/N.” Kelly, your best friend, said as she spotted your eyes darting the cafeteria at lunch, “Been acting weird all day.”
“No, I haven’t Kel.” Speaking back in an instant you turned your full attention back to her.
A smirk that was eerily similar to Dustin’s danced on her lips as she watched you. Everybody seemed keen on your actions today, “In fact, you’ve been acting a little off ever since a certain Harrington has become friends with your very own brother. Peculiar.”
You rolled your eyes rather dramatically at your friend, “Look at you, jumping to conclusions.”
“You’ve been avoiding him all day Y/N.” She said matter of factly.
Shaking your head, “No…”
“You literally made Mandy trade seats with you in Chemistry today. I don’t want to hear it.” She cut you off.
“You’re annoying.” You sighed.
“And you’re being avoidant. The usual hey?” She grinned knowing she had you there. This was totally your style.
“Whatever Kelly.” Looking away your eyes went wide seeing Steve and his very own best friend, Robin, walking your way, “Gotta go talk to Mrs. Pace about my grade. I’ll see you later?” You stood quickly and ran off before she could even reply. When you turned back you saw the three of them conversing, talking about who knows what. You. They were talking about you.
When you heard the front door open and close you’d assumed Dustin was alone. Your parents were out for a dinner date with another couple they’d been friends for years with. Being miserably bored you were thrilled when you’d heard him come home. Having somebody to annoy made you far too giddy.
“There you are!” Yelling from the top of the stairs you skidded to a complete stop seeing not only your brother but his much taller and much more handsome friend standing in the kitchen with him.
All too pleased with himself he gave you a head nod, “Y/N. Steve’s going to stay for dinner.” He didn’t ask, he stated.
“Sure, I’ll just be up in my room…”
He cut you off grabbing at your arm, “No, I know you haven’t eaten. Sit.” He sounded weirdly like your father.
“I already…” You tried but again he cut you off.
“No, you haven’t. The plate is untouched. Your water is still at the table. Sit.” He pointed to your usual chair. He had you there. He was too damn observant. Only Dustin.
You glared at him but sat down next to Steve who looked all too happy to be sitting there with the two of you. Not even you could lie, he was damn adorable sitting there kicking his feet watching the two siblings bicker back and forth.
Dustin set down two plates in front of you and Steve, “I just remembered. I was supposed to call Mike at 7! We’re supposed to be doing Mr. Ryan’s homework.” He rambled before running off upstairs.
“Dustin?” You called feeling a growing irritation for your meddling younger brother. The little shit just left you to fend for yourself with Steve fucking Harrington? What the fuck?
“Kids a trip.” Steve smiled over at you hoping it’d calm your nerves a bit. He knew you were nervous for some reason. He was anything but intimidating, or so he thought.
Your face broke into a grin knowing his motives. He was a trip, that one was for sure, “You could say that again.” Defeated, you grabbed at your fork knowing you couldn’t really just leave him sitting in your kitchen. Dustin would quite literally kick your ass if you did that.
He nodded his head in agreement, “Your brother is pretty great too. Never thought I’d enjoy spending so much time with a literal kid.” He snickered knowing the optics of the situation were less than stellar.
Finally, you looked at him. And Jesus, was he stunning. It wasn’t fair. He was so damn attractive and then he was so damn kind? Dustin was setting you up, “He get it from somewhere.” You agreed with him while nodding your head.
Steve’s smile grew even wider as he let out a hearty laugh, “He told me you were funny.”
Eyebrows raised you replied, “He did?”
“Yup.” He scooted a tad closer to you. All too thrilled you were finally entertaining a conversation with him, “He says a lot of good things about you.”
Without even realizing it you bit your lip slightly. A little habit Steve had noticed in school as he watched you a bit closer this year. It happened when you were thinking. When your mind was reeling, “Dusty’s the sweetest younger brother. I’m lucky.”
“Well, he’s got a pretty great older sister he watches all the time.” Steve said so casually you weren’t positive if you were hearing
Your eyes snapped back over to his suddenly very aware of why you avoided these conversations. Your cheeks were absolutely ablaze feeling like you could cook an egg off your face it was so hot, “
He smirked, “What? No comeback? He says your infamous for those. And I’d tend to agree. You schooled Mr. Clark the other day.”
Biting back a smile you rolled your eyes, “Dustin has a lot of opinions about me, hmm?”
He leaned forward feeling brazen, “You’re right. Enough about him. More about you.” His chair scooted just a bit closer. He was bold, you gave him that.
“Me?” Your face had to be as red as a tomato now.
“You heard me.”
Trying to be just a bit brave you continued, “Well, what about me?”
His chair inched ever so much closer. Your heart was racing at an uncomfortable pace as he opened his mouth, “Tell me something about you sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? Sweetheart. Damn, that made your already racing heart explode, “What do you wanna know?” It was a whisper. God, you were pathetic. He made you pathetic. A pathetic bumbling mess, “I hate chicken nuggets. I think they’re disgusting.” You said the first thing that came to your thoughtless mind.
He didn’t give you any time to be embarrassed though. He let out a snort before full on laughing, “Chicken nuggets? Really?”
You nodded quickly defending yourself, “I just… I just don’t think chicken should come that way. Not natural.”
He snickered shaking his head but moving his chair even closer. He was almost on top of you now. Surly, he could hear your racing heart, “You’re a trip too, Henderson.”
“Hopefully you mean that in a good way.”
His smile should’ve given you the hint. But you were clueless. Absolutely clueless, “In the best way.”
The two of you were so into the moment you didn’t hear the younger version of you walk down the stairs. To be fair, it had been twenty minutes. He’d just been sitting in his room bored to death and couldn’t take it anymore. So, he walked down the steps. When he walked into the kitchen he’d expected to find the two of you bickering. Just like he and Steve did. But he found the opposite. The two of you… enamored with each other?
He couldn’t hide the small smile creeping up on his lips. He’d all but gotten a confession out of Steve that he liked you. And he wasn’t dumb, you liked him. So, this was meant to happen, right? Plus, if the two of you were together then Steve would be over all the time. A win, win.
But he was bored, your love could blossom another time, “What’d I miss?” He spoke up. You nearly jumped from your seat. Steve scooted away in a hurry.
“Dustin!” You whisper shouted, startled by his sudden presence.
“Son of a…” Steve muttered while glaring at the younger boy.
Dustin gave him a devious smirk, “What was that Steve?”
“He likes you; you know.” Robin set her bag down next to yours on the ground. She plopped down in the seat next to you in the wide-open library.
You looked up from the homework you were working on, “Hmm?”
“Steve. He likes you. Hard.”
Shaking your head, you decided on giving her your full attention, “No, no he doesn’t. I think I’d notice if he liked me.”
She snorted lightly, “You’re adorable. Adorably clueless. He likes you Henderson.”
“Then he’ll tell me himself.” You said so assuredly you weren’t expecting her reply.
“You’re right. He will.” And before you could reply Robin was off as soon as she had sat down.
Before you could focus back on your homework and ignore the weird interaction with the girl you’d come to adore from afar somebody else was in the seat she had just occupied.
When you looked up and spotted him your weak little heart started racing once more, “Steve, what’re you doing here?”
“Here to tell you something.” He smiled leaning back in the chair.
Robin? Robin was written all over this. He couldn’t actually like you. It was more of a thing to say to get her to shut the hell up. But now… now Steve might actually admit something.
“What’s that?”
He kept quiet until you looked up at him. He smiled gently at you. Trying his darndest not to freak you out, “That I like you.”
“You like me?” You asked back so quickly he was sure you hadn’t really processed it.
“Yes,” He nodded quickly, “I like you. A lot.”
“Me?”
He grabbed at your hand, “You.”
“You’re sure?” You couldn’t believe him. No. Not until he confirmed it at least twenty times.
“Positive.” He gave your hand a squeeze trying his best to keep you grounded in reality. Not stuck in that pretty little head of yours.
“Oh.” You’d finally processed his words. He liked you. Damn, he liked you?
“Hopefully that’s a good, oh.” He mirrored your words from earlier on in the week.
A small smile came to your lips, “Yeah, it is… but…” You paused not sure how to ask the question that was itching at the back of your head.
“But?”
“But you’ve never seemed interested.”
He let out a quiet laugh, “Robin was right, you are adorably clueless.”
You gave him a fake pout, “Hey now.”
He shook his head, “I didn’t say it wasn’t cute. It’s adorable. You’re adorable sweetheart.” He grabbed at your other hand, holding both of your much smaller hands in his.
“Hey Steve?” You said after a moment of silence.
“Yeah?”
“I like you too. I like you a lot.” You bobbed your head up and down.
“Tell me then, what do you say? We’ve got a problem and I’ve got a solution. I’m taking you out Friday evening. On a proper date.” Steve proposed looking all too hopefully at you.
You grinned, “I think that sounds like a great plan.”
He let out a small sigh of relief, “Finally, it’s a date my dear.”
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Can Anybody See Me?
I just finished this first part of my Eddie adopting Steve in his senior year after his fall from grace and wanted to put it up.
Tag list of 50 has now been filled. Any other requests for tagging will be denied. I’m sorry.
Edit: Also if you saw the title as something else? No, no you didn’t. And any reblogs you see with anyone instead of anybody are a figment of your imagination. (*thuds head on laptop* I have the title right on here...in my file *wails*)
*
“Mr Munson?” the teacher called.
Eddie’s head snapped to the front of the class from where it had been watching King Steve Harrington throwing up in the garbage can.
“When Mr Harrington is done spilling his guts, would you please take him to the nurse’s station?”
Eddie pointed at himself and mouthed the word “me?”
He looked around the classroom and was shocked to find that Steve’s friends were either trying not to look at him or were actually snickering.
The teacher sighed. “Yes. If you would please.”
“Yeah Munson,” someone called. “Freaks should stick together after all.”
Eddie made a note of who it was and vowed to never to sell to the asshole again. He stood up and walked to the back of the room. He knelt down next to Steve and put his hand on his back.
“Hey,” he murmured. “You okay?”
Steve looked up at him blearily. “Munson?”
Eddie looked up at the teacher. “Would it be okay if we take the bin with us? So we don’t disturb the rest of the class?”
The teacher nodded, looking relieved.
Eddie helped Steve to his feet and made sure the other boy had a good handle on the bin and gently walked him outside. The cool air of the hallway hit them like a truck. But Steve beside him sighed in relief.
Eddie finally got a good look at Steve’s face, blackened and bruised as it was. “Who did you in?”
Steve’s head lulled back like a rag doll. “Billy Hargrove.”
Eddie’s eyebrows went up and led Steve over to the wall next to the door. Steve slid to the floor, clutching the bin.
“Aren’t you two on the basketball team or whatever?” Eddie asked, moving to sit next to him.
“The king is dead, all hail the king,” Steve slurred.
Eddie scoffed. At least someone was getting something from their history class because it sure the hell wasn’t him.
“With the second concussion in two years, I’m off the team anyway,” Steve continued.
“Second?” Eddie asked, his eyes wide. “What the hell have you been doing man?”
Steve’s eyes focused momentarily. “Picking fights with boys that can kick my ass because they’re picking on kids that can’t defend themselves.”
“Actual kids?” Eddie asked his opinion of Billy dropping further than it already was.
“Does a thirteen year old still count as a kid?” Steve asked seriously.
Fuck.
“Yeah, yeah it does,” Eddie replied softly.
“I have this kid that I watch once and while,” Steve murmured, “actually I watch a half dozen, but anyway. Lucas Sinclair is really good at basketball and he tried out for the team. Billy decided to be a racist bastard about it. I clocked him and he laid me out. Literally.”
“Is that the reason for the...?” he waved at the bin and Steve’s face.
“Yup,” Steve said, closing his eyes. “Did you know that the nausea and dizziness of concussion can last longer than the actual concussion? Because I sure the hell didn’t.”
Eddie winced. “You up for the trek to the nurse’s office yet?”
Steve opened his eyes and looked over at the other boy. “I worry it’s the moving that’s making me puke.”
Eddie blinked and the cocked his head. “That’s a fair assessment, but you won’t know until you try.”
Steve nodded and then hissed. Eddie got his arm under him and gently lifted him to his feet.
Steve moaned.
“You good?” Eddie asked.
“Give me second,” Steve mumbled. He breathed heavily, trying to stop the world from spinning. “Okay. Yeah.”
Eddie moved them slowly through the halls to the nurse’s station. He didn’t throw up once which Eddie counted as a win.
“Messers Munson and Harrington,” the nurse greeted. “What causes you to darken my step today?”
Eddie grinned. “Nurse Ratchet, what a pleasure it is to see you again. I am here under orders to bring King Steve to you as he up chucked his lunch in math class.”
“It’s Nurse Kincade to you, Munson,” she bit out. “Put him on the table.”
Eddie steered Steve over to the table and looked him over. Steve was sweating from the exersion which considering he was in better shape than Eddie was that was a problem.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Do you want me to stay?”
Steve looked up at him and gulped. “Nah, man. You need to get back to class. You don’t want to be caught associating with me anyway.”
Eddie reared his head back. He was pretty sure that was his line. But he knew better than to argue. So he held up his hands and backed away slowly, listening to Steve explain to the nurse what had happened. Eddie grabbed the bin and cleaned it out before he returned to class. He had briefly thought to leave as a prank. But they would know it was him and he promised his Uncle Wayne that he wouldn’t get detention this year.
And while he also knew Uncle Wayne meant the school year, the year of 1984 was ending and he could at least last that long.
He got back to class and stood at the door. He really didn’t want to go in but class had fifteen minutes left and that was too long for him to wait. So with a heavy sigh he yanked open the door.
The teacher clocked him immediately. “You left Mr Harrington alone?”
Eddie threw up his hands again. “Dude wanted me to leave, I know better than to overstay my welcome.”
The teacher rolled his eyes. “And yet, here you are in my class for the second year in a row.”
Eddie grinned. “Aww, teach. That’s not overstaying my welcome, that’s tenacity.”
“This is algebra Mr Munson, not English,” he moaned. “Please take your seat.”
He could hear the snickering behind him, but he didn’t care. He thought about a boy who looked after kids that were barely teenagers and took beatings for them, to protect them. He thought about mismatched hazel eyes, one almost swollen shut. He thought about the inherent kindness of a beat down soul and wondered what made him kind in this cruel world.
*
Eddie spotted Steve at lunch, sitting by himself, pushing the food around on his tray. He was probably still feeling nauseous. He went to the vending machine and got ginger ale. As he passed by Steve, he looked at the bottle in his hand.
“Fuck,” he murmured. “I wanted a Coke. Hey, Harrington, you like ginger ale?”
Steve’s head snapped up in shock. “Uh, yeah. I’ve been known to like it on occasion.”
Eddie tossed it at him. “Here, you have it.”
He went and sat down by his friends. All three of them were juniors but he been friends with them since the talent show in middle school. They were in a band together called Corroded Coffin and they were pretty damn good if he thought so himself.
“What was that about, man?” Jeff asked.
Eddie turned to Jeff. He knew of all the boys at this table would understand why he threw Harrington a bone. He leaned in close so only his friends could hear.
“Harrington got his bell rung by Hargrove for protecting the Sinclair boy,” he whispered.
All three boys lifted their heads to look over at Steve who was sipping the ginger ale and starting to eat a little.
They hunched back into their circle.
“Looks like Hargrove got him good,” Gareth said. “What was the ginger ale for?”
“It’s good for nausea,” Eddie whispered. “He threw up in math class and I had to take him to the nurse’s station.”
“But I thought Carol and them were in that class, too,” Brian murmured.
Eddie shook his head. “They are, man. But Steve’s on the outs with the whole lot.”
Jeff frowned. “I didn’t think that Mr Harrington would have let his boy hang out with the Sinclairs.”
Eddie looked over at Steve and then back down to his friends. “I’m only telling you what he told me.”
His friends nodded. Whatever was going on, the Corroded Coffin boys were too far down the social ladder to be in the know.
Eddie looked over at the lonely boy one more time. Something didn’t feel right. Something else was going on, something darker. One didn’t simply go from the top of the social elite to less than the weirdos overnight for nothing. And Eddie was going to find out what.
Now with part 2 and part 3 part 4 part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21
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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 4
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3
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Eddie doesn't graduate.
He's stuck here for another year, and he screams into his pillow, throws himself a pity party for the better part of two days, and then drags himself back out and gets the hell on with it.
In Eddie's second senior year, Hagan finds his new liege in the form of fucking Billy Hargrove.
Hargrove and Hagan fixate on Harrington, who frankly, doesn't seem all that interested in either raising to their bait or defending his title. Eddie'd almost have respect for the guy, if it weren't for the way their shit gets everywhere. The mess he'd been watching over the last year starts to spill out and out and out, and there's something in Hargrove's eyes that, for the first time, makes Eddie consider ducking his head and staying out of his way. There's a bitter taste in his mouth, because goddamn, if he did even a quarter of the things Hargrove is, he'd be getting queer written on his locker instead of freak before the end of first period.
But no, when it's a jock obsessed with another jock, it's a vicious rivalry. Hargrove is new, and pretty, and dangerous, and the balance seems to shift and waver on whether the masses find him thrilling or distasteful.
Eddie can't wait to graduate and leave this all behind.
Some time after Halloween, he finds I don't need to go to the hospital scrawled onto his hip, and his heart lodges itself in his throat. He's never been more tempted to say something - anything - to make his soulmate go to the damn hospital when he needs to.
But he's a coward who doesn't want to open that door again, and a bitter part of him reminds himself that his soulmate probably has tons of friends - a girlfriend - to bustle him off to the hospital and fuss over him.
He's a little bit ashamed of himself for the thought, but not enough to make him say anything.
Around the same time, neither of the dueling kings show up to school for three days straight. It's not entirely unexpected for Hargrove, but the last time Harrington missed school was the year before, when all that stuff with the missing Byers kid was going down.
It gets people talking.
When they both come back, the buzzing intensifies, and things come to a head at lunch. The cafeteria had dimmed a little when Harrington walked in, looking like a fucking trainwreck, but his swagger is just as strong as ever and he sits down with some of his friends like he's just daring anyone to ask him about it.
Then Hargrove walks in, looking not nearly as bad but still pretty clearly messed up, and the entire room goes quiet.
It makes Eddie's leg bounce in agitation, every bone in his body screaming at him to get the fuck out of there, but his sheepies are looking at him for their cues and he forces himself to look bored with all this shit.
Hargrove's swagger is even worse than Harrington's, and he saunters across the cafeteria as if he doesn't have a care in the world. Someone asks him a question, too low for Eddie to make out, and Hargrove grins, wide and amused.
"Harrington and I sorted our differences," he says, loud enough to echo across the cafeteria. "Ain't that right, Steve-o?"
Hargrove licks his lips as he looks over at Harrington - and see, see that's what Eddie's talking about, Hargrove is looking at Harrington like he wants to eat him. Some part of Eddie perks up a little, because fuck, that is one attractive man, but once again the look in Hargrove's eyes kills it. He looks like a fucking predator, like if a fight does spring up he'll go and go and go until one of them is dead, and Eddie feels a chill over his spine as his eyes snap back to Harrington.
If they're suddenly friends now, Eddie's going to have to make a dramatic exit to go be sick.
Fortunately for Eddie's stomach, there's a flare of disgust in Harrington's expression before it smooths over, looking bored and unaffected.
He smiles at Hargrove, sharp and wide and toothy. "Any time you want to skip the foreplay and get to the main event again, you just let me know."
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, firmly telling his dick to sit the fuck down, that any attraction he might feel for him should die the same way it does for Hargrove. It doesn't listen to him, not until -
Hargrove tips back his head and laughs, wild and frenzied, and there's a titter of laughter that scatters across the cafeteria - some of it uncertain, some of it mean, some of it genuine. Just like that, everyone's back to their normal days.
"Jesus H. Christ," Eddie mutters under his breath. "And they say I'm the dramatic one."
He hears a smattering of soft agreements from the rest of Hellfire, a couple of snorts of laughter, and that buoys him a little. He tilts his head, making a sweeping gesture that nearly knocks over Jeff's milk. "Well! It seems our entertainment for the meal is over with. What say we adjourn to get set up for tonight's club meeting?"
He doesn't look at Hargrove or Harrington. All the people in this world, the chances of his soulmate being one of them are pretty damn small, despite their situations fitting. He doesn't think about how both of them probably could have used a fucking hospital, doesn't let himself wonder which one is the type to deny they needed it.
Doesn't let himself decide that he'd so much rather it be Steve Harrington.
He really doesn't want it to be Steve Harrington.
—
Lies spring to life on his skin throughout the rest of the school year - not as much as last fall, but what he does get is… a little bit strange, a little bit personal, more so than Eddie's seen before.
Rabid dogs, you know, they're no joke.
I still think this is dumb.
You'd be surprised how many coyotes are in these woods.
I'm never going to play this thing with you, man, you might as well stop asking.
Nothing to worry about, all right?
I'm not lying, I'm totally fine.
Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington graduate with the rest of their class, that year.
Eddie doesn't.
Taglist (let me know if I missed anyone, and I'm always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman
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Part 5
#steddie#steddie fic#eddie munson#steve harrington#Soulmate au#more light angst but there will be a happy ending
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Somebody to You - s.h.
Summary: You've never been kissed. Steve changes that.
Pairing: best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: first kiss, sweet soft Steve (lub him <3), inexperienced!reader, fluff fluff fluff. A reminder that Steve and the reader are always 18+!
divider by s-tarksintern
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"You're gonna get sick."
"No, 'm not," Steve insists petulantly, ice cream smeared on his chin.
"It's fall," you sigh. "You didn't even zip up your jacket. You'll get a sore throat."
"I won't. I'm a trooper."
"You're an idiot."
"Yes," he agrees solemnly. "An idiotic trooper. God's bravest soldier."
"Brave or stupid?"
Steve licks his cone. A smudge of chocolate lands on his nose.
"It's a fine line," he decides.
You crumple your napkin, wiping away the ice cream. He grins, too goddamn cute for his own good.
"How do girls like you? You eat like a toddler."
"I eat like a man." Steve thumps his chest. "This is how men eat ice cream."
"Definitely an idiot."
"Yeah, but who's hanging out with me, hmm? Riddle me that, Y/N."
"What was I thinking?"
"Hard to say."
"At least wear your scarf properly," you say, stopping in front of him. "Doesn't do much hanging like that."
"It makes me look cool."
You ignore his protests, handing him your own cup of ice cream so you can fix the scarf. It's nice: a ruddy red color, made of angora wool. You'd borrowed it many a time, but Steve is pretty horrendous when he gets sick and it's important to nip that prospect in the bud as early as possible.
You wrap the scarf once, twice, then tuck the ends. Steve's neck is warm, jaw slightly rough with stubble. Plumes of breath fade into the air between you. When you meet his gaze, Steve is looking at you funny, lids heavy. You nearly trip on the sidewalk as you turn.
"Your cup," he says, nudging your shoulder.
You take your ice cream back without meeting his eye. Steve falls into silence beside you, matching your steps so he doesn't leave you behind with his longer strides.
"So," he clears his throat after a few minutes. "You gonna tell me why we went for ice cream?"
"What do you mean?" you ask, scooping another bite of your treat.
"Do I look like a sucker to you?"
You open your mouth. Steve hurriedly covers the lower half of your face with a big hand. It's cold from the ice cream, rough with calluses. You want it there forever.
"Nevermind," he says. "Don't want you answering that."
"Mmfph!"
You bat his hand away. Steve's fingers dance across your arm.
"The answer is yes," you say anyway.
"Walked right into that one."
"Sure did."
Steve unlocks the car door, swinging into the driver’s seat. As soon as he turns the key, you blast the heat.
"You're gonna eat up the gas," he groans over the roar of the heater, turning the knob.
"I'm cold."
"Who wanted to get ice cream in the first place? And who lectured me about wearing my scarf properly?"
"Dunno but she sounds really smart," you say, mouth full. "Maybe you should listen to her more."
Steve's cone is down to a nub because he inhales everything he eats. You take your time on your cup, stirring the melting ice cream with your spoon.
"Y/N."
"Yes, Steve?"
He fixes you with a look.
"Don't yes, Steve me. You think I forgot? You had that big date planned tonight."
"It wasn't that big a date."
"Oh, I disagree," Steve says, turning in his seat. "Very much so. You were gonna pop your first date cherry. If that's not a big date, I dunno what is."
The entire week had been test prep for your first ever date. Steve and Robin had both lectured you on first date protocols, trying to soothe your nerves. In the end, it didn't matter. You hadn't gone through with it.
"First anythings mean nothing," you mumble.
"Did this guy do something? What's his name? Phillips, Philly, Philbin…"
"Fuller," you correct. "Jake Fuller."
Steve snaps his fingers. "That's the one! So, what, do I need to defend your honor and go rough him up?"
"And lose another fight?" you shoot.
"Oh, now you're gonna get it.”
Steve puts his cone between his teeth to free his other hand and leaps over the console, sliding both cold hands under your shirt. You squeal, trying in earnest to bat him away. He lets you take his wrists, one knee perched precariously on the edge of your seat.
"You're a menace," you declare.
Steve finishes his cone in one bite, crunching obnoxiously in your ear.
"I'm a what?" he asks. "Come again?"
"A menace!" you laugh, shaking his hands.
Steve sinks back to his side. His hair is slightly tousled from his antics.
"Seriously, Y/N." And this time, he really is serious. "What happened?"
"Nothing!" Truth. "I don't even care." Half truth.
"Did he cancel?"
You wince. "No. I did."
"What? Why?"
You shrug one shoulder.
"That's not an answer," he pushes.
"I don't know, okay? Just didn't feel up to it. I—it would've been awkward. He's one of Nancy's newspaper buddies and I'm sure if she hangs out with him, he's probably not, like, a serial killer. But the more I thought about it, the more I decided I couldn't do it. I wouldn't have anything to say."
"But that's everyone's first date," Steve reasons. "My first date ever wasn't amazing."
"You? Steve Harrington? That's who we're talking about?"
"The sass is unnecessary," he says with an eye roll. "Yeah, my first date was awkward just like everyone else's. But then you go on second and third dates and it gets better. You get practice. Like kissing, y'know?"
You sink into your seat, scratching the bottom of your cup with your spoon.
“Right,” you mumble.
“Wait.” Steve leans in, arm draped over your headrest. “What is that?”
“What is what?”
Steve’s so close. He smells like lemon shampoo and the expensive cologne you’d been clueless about buying for his birthday. He wears it everyday. You cross your arms.
“Why’d you respond like that?”
“I acknowledged your statement, Steve.”
You feel his eyes boring into the side of your head.
"You've kissed people before, haven't you?"
"People? Am I planting one on everybody at the A&P?"
“Holy shit," Steve says. "You've never kissed anybody?"
Oh, this is torture. Spending the night locked in Family Video with Keith would be less painful.
“You don’t have to say it like that,” you huff. “Like I’m a spinster with eleven cats.”
Steve gently plucks the empty ice cream cup from your hands, setting it down in the cupholder. You tuck your hands under your thighs.
“I didn’t say it like that,” he says, softly earnest. "I just… I'm surprised, y’know?"
"Surprised that I'm a freak of nature? Well, you wouldn't be the first, Harrington."
"You're not a freak, Y/N. There’s nothing wrong with not kissing anybody.”
“Easy for you to say. Girls fall over themselves wanting you. Nobody's ever wanted to kiss me and–and I don't know. It felt like something that should be special."
"I seriously doubt nobody's ever wanted to kiss you, Y/N," Steve says quietly.
You scoff. "What then? I'm just clueless?"
Steve shrugs. "Have a little confidence in yourself is all I'm saying. You're pretty, y'know? Guys would love to take you out."
"You're serious."
His brow scrunches. "I said I was.”
"I'm not like you, Steve. Jake would’ve tried to kiss me and it would’ve been weird and gross.”
“That bad? You hardly know the guy."
"That's the point!" you groan. "I don't know him. You can kiss girls and it's fine, it's cool."
"Well, I’m a great kisser," Steve smirks. "I've had a lot of practice to make it fine and cool."
“Great kisser, huh? That hair is getting a little too big, hotshot."
“Oh, baby, I only get five star reviews,” he grins, looking and sounding very much like the King Steve you remember and could hardly stand. The Steve who's good at this, good at making girls melt and kissing the air out of their lungs. The Steve who renders you shy and too quiet; who, despite his throne, has always been a pretty boy with pretty lips.
“Hey.” Steve taps your temple with one finger. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” you say in a breath. "Still here."
"Okay. That's good."
You pull your knees in, fingers curling around the seat cushion. Steve slouches against his seat. His fingers lazily drum on the steering wheel. A sliver of freckled skin peeks underneath his jacket. You tear your gaze away.
"Are you actually that good at kissing?"
Steve glances at you, brows raised slightly.
"Haven't had any complaints. And most girls have no problem letting you know."
"Is it, um… fun?"
What a silly word. Fun. Like you're talking about a new video game. Why can't you be like other girls about it? Other girls make out with guys in their cars and then brag about it the next morning. I hooked up with Steve Harrington. He's so hot. Jealous?
"Yeah." Steve laughs a bit, not unkindly. "It's kind of my favorite part, actually. They become addictive when you're with the right person."
"Like Nancy?"
Something flickers across his face. Nice, Y/N. Way to go.
"At first," he replies quietly, because Steve never gets cross with you, even when you're the idiot, bringing up his ex. "Then it changed. Some things do."
"Oh," you breathe. "You don't love her anymore?"
"No," he says, staring at you. "Not sure if I ever did."
You bend and pretend to tie your shoe. Steve sits up and unravels his scarf, tossing it into the backseat, then does the same with his coat. You steal a glance and watch his biceps shift under his pullover. Golden sunlight catches the outline of his Cupid’s bow. Your chest tightens.
"Wanna get food? We did the backwards thing eating ice cream before dinner," Steve chuckles.
You sit up and lick your lips. Steve digs through the center console for stray cash. His long, long lashes fan over his cheeks. You flex and unflex your fingers.
"Hey, Steve?"
"Hmm?"
"What's, uh, what’s it like? Kissing, I mean."
He stops, lifts his head. You swallow. He squints slightly, like he can see every thought in your brain. You shake your head when he’s quiet for too long, nerves nosediving.
"N-nevermind. Stupid question, forget it."
"It's not stupid," he says gently. "I was just thinking about how to explain it. It's kinda hard to. But you feel… connected? With your mouth. It's warm and a little wet but it shouldn't be that wet or you're probably doing it wrong."
You scrunch your nose. Steve grins.
"But it's good. Really good. And you can put your hand on their face. Like this."
Steve shifts in his seat so he's facing you. Then his palm slides onto your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek. Your heart knocks against your ribcage. Steve has that half-lidded look again. He draws tiny circles into your cheek.
"It’s—it’s nice,” you squeak.
"Yeah?"
You nod. Steve glances at your lips. The leather groans as you squirm.
"Steve." Your voice is barely a whisper.
"Uh-huh?"
Your brain is sludge. The longer you look at him, the hotter you burn.
"Are–are you going to kiss me?"
Steve goes very still. His hand doesn't move from your cheek.
"Not if you don't want me to."
The light makes his cheeks glow, hair framing his face like a halo. Steve's hair always looks so soft. You ache to run your fingers through it.
"I want you to."
Steve inhales sharply. He leans in, his other hand coming up to gently hold your jaw.
"Tell me if I do anything you don't like," he says. "Okay?"
"Okay," you promise, eyes closing instinctively.
Steve tastes like chocolate ice cream. He kisses you with his whole being. You fumble against him, trying to follow his lead. And Steve—sweet, best friend Steve—is forgiving, patient, hungry. He presses you into the seat. You make a soft noise, grip tight around his bicep. Your arm curls around the back of his neck and you tug him in a little too hard. Steve grunts, catching himself on your hips.
"S-sorry," you sigh into his mouth, eyes fluttering open.
He shakes his head lightly and the mistake is forgotten. Steve sweetly squeezes your hip, drags his hand up your ribcage like he needs to be everywhere at once. Then his teeth graze your lower lip. Addictive. The word slips from his tongue to yours.
Steve pulls back first. He seems to know instinctively you both need air. But he doesn't go far, hands clutching your waist. You breathe on his shoulder, clinging like he might disappear if you don’t. And what if he does?
But you know Steve. You know he won't.
“Wow,” is the first thing you hum.
Steve’s laugh is shy. He pushes a lock of hair behind his ear, looks at you through his lashes.
“Did you like it?” he asks.
There’s a million things you can say to that. You settle on:
“I don’t want to kiss anyone else.”
Steve’s grin is blinding.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you confess. “Will you do it again?”
Steve can only oblige.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington imagine#best friend steve harrington#steve harrington x fem reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things
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STWG daily prompt 25/10/23
prompt: no prompt, must be 480 words or more
pairing/character(s): steddie
part 2 to this post
-
Ever since that night at Hawkins Police Station, Eddie’s felt oddly fascinated by Steve Harrington.
Before, he wouldn’t have noticed the former king as he silently slinks around Hawkins and Hawkins High, but now? Now it’s like he’s everywhere.
Eddie leaves the trailer park to walk through the woods at night and bumps into Steve, the bags under his eyes heavy as always and eyes blinking back sleep like he’s fighting it. Eddie goes to his dealing table behind school and notices Steve sitting by himself behind some nearby bushes, head tilted back to lean against a tree and eyes closed as he listens to the world. Eddie goes to the Hideout to bother the manager about letting his band play there sometime, and sees Steve sat in a booth in the corner, a couple empty glasses littering his table and a (clearly) fake ID ready and waiting on the table for anyone who questions him.
Eddie’s starting to think they’ve accidentally existed within the same spaces ever since Steve’s fall from grace, and Steve’s just better at fading into the background than his years as Keg stand King would have most believe.
But he doesn’t get the chance to talk to him again until a few months later. He’s at Frank’s diner with Gareth, Jeff and Freak when he sees Steve walk in, shoulders hunched in a little and face carefully blank. He’s alone.
Eddie lets himself drift out from the heated conversation the others are having (a debate about which monsters their next DnD session will involve once they enter Saltmarsh), and watches Steve as he makes his way over to a booth in the corner, a few tables away from any other patrons.
A waitress makes her way over immediately, and Eddie can just about hear her as she greets Steve with a pet name (honey), and smiles like she sees him regularly. Steve says he’s waiting for someone, and his voice is a little wobbly.
A couple minutes later, Eddie’s just let himself become reabsorbed and amused at the turn of the debate amongst his friends when Chief Hopper enters the diner. On instinct, Eddie’s back straightens a little, and his friends give him triplet looks of suspicion.
“What’ve you done now?” Jeff asks with a roll of his eyes, and Eddie frowns at him in mock offence.
“I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing. I think the Chief’s here for someone else, actually.” He defends himself, just as Hopper walks by. Hopper scoffs and shakes his head.
“Yeah, not here on police business, for once. Stay outta trouble and outta my business, Munson.” He says quietly, and Eddie just watches him as he predictably walks over to Steve. Before he sits down opposite Steve in the booth, Eddie watches Hopper clap a firm hand down on Steve’s shoulder and squeeze, resulting in Steve’s tense posture relaxing a bit.
Very fascinating.
Last time, Eddie didn’t get the chance to see their dynamic, so he can’t help but watch.
“You don’t have to be so paranoid he literally said he’s not here on police business.” Gareth teases him after a couple more seconds, poking him in the side harshly.
“Hey! I’m intrigued by,” Eddie gestures over at the booth, “all that. Sue me.”
The boys’ follow his gesture and seem to only then notice Steve Harrington in all his shaky glory (see? Like Eddie said, he’s good at blending into the background). They frown.
“Huh, what’s up with that?” Freak mutters, and everyone shrugs.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
The boys roll their eyes at Eddie’s words, and all say something along the lines of ‘sure you will, Ed’ in the least confident voices they can muster. It only eggs Eddie on.
And when Steve gets up to go to the bathroom, he sees his moment.
He’s going to have an actual conversation with Steve Harrington.
Maybe even try to become his friend. And, wow, that’s a thought Eddie from two years ago would’ve shuddered at.
But Eddie from right now is just thinking of ways to have a conversation that won’t send Steve running again.
He’s got this.
-
tagging anyone who explicitly asked in the first bit to be tagged if there's ever more: @devondespresso
if you want to be tagged if i ever write more, lemme know :)
#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie drabble#steve harrington#eddie munson#stwgdailyprompt#dailydrabble#stranger things#mywriting
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Steve Harrington has always loved the sky.
How vast, and complex, and free it is. How it changes colors with the season and weather. Sunsets and sunrises, and the things they signify. Some may hate the way it makes them feel smaller, but Steve loves it. He feels safe being a tiny particle under this big sky.
At the early age of six, Steve remembers his mother, sitting beside him in the garden. She was the one who thought him cloud watching. Laying mindlessly in the garden, as they both point out at shapes at the blue sky. There’s a cup, a shape of a heart, a bear. One even looked like a guitar! It was one of the only things they did together for fun.
At thirteen, the sky becomes Steve’s only companion. His parents has left him again, alone in a big quiet house. He’s been in the pool for almost three hours, floating aimlessly as he stares at the sky. There’s different shapes, and it makes him a little less lonely knowing that he’s at least not alone as long as he’s under the big sky.
At seventeen, Steve finds the beauty in the night sky. The dark canvas, with the shining stars and the moon looking down at him. He doesn’t cry, because Harrington’s don’t cry. But there he was, laid in his backyard, nursing a broken heart from the first person he’s ever loved. He’s alone again, and he thinks he’ll always be alone. Just him and the big vast sky. However, there’s more important things now, more than heartbreaks and loneliness, like 12 year olds that get experimented in labs, a girl getting pulled in his pool and to her death and monsters living underneath him. Although underneath the big dark sky, Steve feels like he’s being wrapped in it’s darkness, almost like a comforting blanket.
At eighteen, Steve finds a real friend. Not the sky, but Robin Buckley. A friend he found under the night sky as the place they met went into flames, including Billy Hargrove and Jim Hopper. It’s cruel, but one of the things Steve has learned is that there’s always lost, and there’s always gain. Two nights after the fire, Steve asks, if Robin would lay beside her on the ground. They watch as dark sky turns as the sun rises, too scared to go back to sleep because only then can the nightmares haunt them again. They watch as colors mix from darkness to brightness, and the for the first time in a while, he has someone there with him.
At nineteen, Steve meets Eddie Munson. Really meets him, a brand new slate from what they had in high school. It’s the night just after they come back from the upside down, his bits have been eaten and they’ll probably go back there again tomorrow. Nancy has some kind of plan and he wants to sleep, but he can’t. They sit at the back of the trailer, away from people that could see them (specifically Eddie) smoking a cigarette.
“I can’t believe you guys have been doing this for years.” Eddie says, disbelief apparent in his voice.
Steve shrugs, “I don’t either. They’re—“ He pauses, thinks about El who’s only 15 and has the weight of the world on her shoulders, thinks of Will who’s been through hell and death, thinks of Max who’s still grieving her dead brother only for it to be used to lure her into death, he thinks of the kids, the kids who’s all barely 15 fighting this entity, “They’re all too young for this.” He finishes.
Eddie gives him a look, Steve doesn’t like it. It feels like he’s being studied, he feels naked under Eddie’s eyes. Like he can see through him, see the pieces Steve has hidden for so long.
“You’re young too.” Eddie answers back, tilting his head, “You, Robin, Nancy, even me.”
Steve shrugs, “I guess. I just want this to end already.”
Eddie looks away, staring at the skies as it finally starts changing its hues.
“I don’t really like sunrises.” Steve looks at him, offended and ready to defend his dear old companion.
But Eddie continues, “I’ve always liked the sunsets more, you know? Sunsets are— endings. But they show you that even endings could be beautiful.”
Steve stares at him, watching silently as Eddie smokes. Steve knows the sun is rising now, and he’s never been one to miss it when it’s right in front of him. But there’s something about the way the different colors are hitting Eddie’s face, the light dancing on his skin and his brown eyes illuminating the colors, like it’s lighting him up in ways Steve has never seen before. It’s breathtaking, Eddie’s breathtaking and it makes him feel things he’s never felt before.
When the silence grows heavy, Eddie breaks it with, “Plus I really like it when the sky turns orange.”
It’s the first time Steve has ever ignored the sky.
At nineteen, Steve learns that the sky could also be red. He doesn’t remember much, just Dustin crying over Eddie’s body as the red sky above him thunders on, menacing and cackling at their demise. The clock just struck, four fault lines running across the town above him. Vecna got Max and Eddie’s dead in Dustin’s arms. It’s hard to look up at the sky then, when they finally emerge from hell. Steve thinks that no clear blue sky, or no dark starry night, can ever give him comfort again.
At twenty, almost three months from the first Vecna fight, the sky is permanently gray and stormy. Steve Harrington is bones and meat. Nothing else. He is nothing but a body, weary of the life that has been given to him. They fight for the last time. Steve wants to run away, pack his bag and never look back but as long as his under this fucking sky, he will always remember that he abandoned them. He fights, he fights, he fights. Eddie’s dead, and Max is in a coma, and Steve Harrington fights until it ends.
They get Max back, but she’s forever changed by the experience. They win, the skies turn back to blue and Steve wants to vomit. If this is what it means to win, then why does he want to die? Why does winning feel so much like losing?
At twenty-two, Steve moves to Boston with Robin and Nancy. It’s a weird group, his best friend and her girlfriend, who was also his ex-girlfriend. But they’re Steve’s family (aside from the kids) and he’d go anywhere if Robin asks. He hasn’t laid in his back to watch the clouds in three years, he hasn’t stayed up to look at the night sky, he hasn’t watched the morning sun rise to it’s beauty and he hasn’t watched the sunset in a while.
It’s a conversation they’ve always avoided. Robin knows that Steve used to love the sky, he told her just as much, how it feels like a companion he’s always had. She doesn’t know why he stopped, why he stopped looking up and pointing out random shapes, or random constellations. Why he hasn’t been waking her up in the morning just so he can show her the sky changing to another beautiful color, morning after morning. All she knows was it stopped after Eddie died.
Eddie’s death has always been hard for the three of them. This one person who’ve they known for almost a week, leaving such a big impression in their lives. She knows Nancy has stash of metal music, smiling with a sad grin whenever Metallica comes on. Robin has multiple guitar pins, always an electric guitar in the color red, pinned in her coat, in her bag, in her bedroom and anywhere else she can stick it on. And Steve, well, Robin held his hand as he got his first tattoo. A D20 dice, just above his demobat scar. Robin’s still not sure if he cried because of the pain of the needle or the pain of having the same scar, in the exact same place, of someone who didn’t survive it.
It all comes out one day. The anniversaries has always been harder, not only were they far away from the kids, but the Vecna spring anniversary always hits them the hardest. It’s also Eddie’s death anniversary, to make it worse. Robin plans it all out, they stay in all day. Just watch movies, eat snacks, stay wrapped in comfortable blankets. The three of them fall asleep in the middle of their fourth movie of the day, all tangled together and it’s days like this— like this that makes it harder to ignore the fact that it should’ve been the four of them rather than just three.
Robin wakes up with Steve not beside her, Nancy still sleeping peacefully beside her. The digital clock— they all can’t stand the silent tick tocking of a clock, reminds them too much of a grandfather clock, no matter how big or small— blinks at her, it’s almost 5:21 in the afternoon. From where she is sitting, she can feel the cold wind brushing her feet, the door of the apartment balcony open. She stands up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and walking out to the small balcony.
It’s a surprise to see her soulmate watching the sky start to change colors, the sun impending to set in a few more minutes.
“You’re watching the sunset.” Robin states, making Steve look up at her.
“Yeah.” He replies.
Robin sits beside him, putting the half of the blanket on his shoulder, the half on hers. They watch as the colors start to change. The blue shifting to pink and purple.
“I stopped watching the sky because of Eddie.” Steve starts, startling Robin. It’s been a conversation waiting to happen for years now, but she didn’t think it would happen today. She finds her footing almost immediately, “Why’s that?”
Steve isn’t looking at her, just watching as the sky dances in front of him. Robin have imagined hundreds of ways that this conversation could go but she never expected him to say, “I think I could’ve loved him. Sometimes, I think I do love him.” She had her suspicions, that maybe her bestfriend isn’t entirely straight. But she didn’t connect the dots that it was Eddie who made him realize this.
Steve continues, “He said he loved sunsets, he loves when it turns orange. Because it showed people that endings could also be beautiful.”
Steve has watched maybe hundreds, maybe thousands of sunsets in his life. But this one— they stay quiet, Nancy comes out a little later, sitting on Steve’s other side and holding his hand through the sunset. Together they watch as the day of the anniversary ends, with what Steve could only call the most beautiful sunset he’s ever seen in his life. It turns into the most beautiful hue of orange and Steve breaks.
“That’s him.” Robin tells him, as she wraps him into a hug, as Steve finally cries on her shoulders, both grief and pain chocking him as he sobs harder, “It’s okay. Eddie’s okay now, and he’s letting us know. We’ll be okay.”
“We’ll be okay.” Nancy reassures, hugging the two of them.
Only then does Steve find comfort in the sky again, with the two people he loves and he knows loves him and under the sky as an old friend watches over.
At twenty-six, Steve graduates with a Bachelor of Science, majoring in Atmospheric Science.
Steve doesn’t avoid the sky anymore, he studies it now, writes the weather news for a big Boston channel. He stops to point out random objects in the sky, has a telescope set up for constellations. He drinks a hot cup of coffee, every morning, watching as the sun rises.
He lays in the grass with Dustin and Suzie’s son and teaches him how to cloud watch. He takes time to send reminders to Max and Lucas to wear a raincoat if he sees that it’s going to rain in California. He talks to Will and Mike for hours, just trying to describe to them a weather phenomenon so Will could draw it and Mike could write it for their latest best-selling comics. He knits El a gorgeous sky blue scarf, because he knows how cold it gets in New York.
Wayne calls him, every other day, to ask how the weather is in Boston and Steve asks how the weather is in Indiana. Steve spends a few months in a year in the guest room of the farm house Joyce and Hop bought in 1986. He stays and writes about the stars and the planets, because the skies are so much clearer in rural places.
He still lives with Robin and Nancy, but they’ve moved to a house now. He’s got equipment for sky watching at the backyard and the girls surprised him with sunroof in his office. They have a dog named Hetfield and cat named Sabbath.
And more than anything, Steve loves sunsets. He has the time of every sunset for everyday charted in his room. He stops, whatever he is doing, however important it is, just to go out and get a glimpse of the sun setting. Sometimes, at home, the girls accompany him, like an unspoken ritual, to just watch the sun setting. He waits for it to turn into some shade of orange and smiles when it turns to the color.
It’s a hello, a how are you, a comfortable hug.
It’s an old friend in the form of the sky.
It’s Eddie Munson just checking in.
→ @undreaming-fanfiction’s beautiful addition (p2)
→ dustin henderson & sunsets (p3)
-> the alternate nicer, fluffier sunrise fic
#i am fucking psychopath#i am sorry#i cried writing this and then i said i should not post this#like this is cruelity#but i cant#its here#its for you#goodbye#daerants#steddie rants#dae writes#daeheadcanons#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson angst#steddie fanfic#steddie fic rec#steddie ficlet#steddie headcanon#tw mcd#tw major character death
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ZOMBIE AU YES steve and you but reluctant allies - forced to travel together and when you get stuck in a tight spot, you fully believe he's going to leave you behind. but steve does what he does best, he comes back
tysm for ur request! reluctant friends to lovers arc starts now. tw for zombie typical gore, violence + apocalypse struggles (near enoigh starvation, weight loss, isolation) this got longer than it was meant to
It's not that you don't like Steve. Though maybe that's what he thinks. He doesn't seem to like you all that much.
Steve Harrington is pretty. He's a pretty boy. You hadn't expected him to be able to fight or defend, or even run all that fast. He'd proved you wrong on each account eventually — "I ran track, idiot," — but the reluctance of your pairing has remained.
You can't like everyone. You and Steve simply don't fit. You didn't in high school and you don't now, and you know in reality that he doesn't like you. Not really. He tolerates you and he shares with you because you have more chance of surviving together than apart.
He searches the waste of Indiana for his friends. You follow. You have nothing else to do.
You're scouring for supplies in a mall not unlike the Starcourt in Hawkins. You imagine it's as desolate and derelict as this one. Escalators frozen in time, storefronts destroyed by time. Dangerous. There's a thousand places for a zombie to be dwelling. They aren't good at hiding, obviously, but you're also not good at finding them. Steve says you have poor observational skills.
"Yes, well, I'd hardly have any reason to need them if it weren't for the end of the world," you mutter.
"Why do you talk like that?"
"Like what?" you ask with a scowl.
"Like- like a rich girl. A really rich girl."
"I don't sound anything like you."
"Weak insult based in sexism. Next."
You drop the shirt you'd been looking at. "Right, I forgot. Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, progressive."
He meets your gaze and smiles at you. He does this, sometimes, where he forgets he doesn't like you. Then something happens, a disagreement or an argument, and you're back to square one, Steve and his burden.
"I'm very progressive." He looks between you and the shirt he's holding, a men's cut, plain with long sleeves. It looks warm. "I think this'll fit. Come here."
You step over a fallen mannequin and let him hold the shirt to your abdomen.
"You're losing weight," he murmurs.
"Lucky me."
His hand touches your shoulder and he draws very close. "Bad news."
"I had it to lose."
"You need all the help you can get." He doesn't bother saying why. You're both more than aware of how dire the food situation is getting. If you can't find anything worth eating here, you're probably fucked. You might be fine. (You're fucked.)
You take the shirt. "Do you think it's silly to put it on now?"
"Definitely. I'll turn around."
He turns. You put your bag on the floor and quickly take off your outerwear. Your shirt smells bad because you smell worse, the strong smell of sweat no matter how much you scrub at it lingering. The fabric is imbued with a permanent odour.
New t-shirt in place, you preen at the feeling of new cotton over your skin.
"Are you done?"
"No-"
"Hurry. We need to move."
You always 'need to move'. You think Steve says it to sound cool.
You pull your clothes back on and hang your backpack from your aching shoulders. Over time, the bag feels heavier. Funny, as it's contents constantly lighten.
"We haven't found anything for you yet," you say.
Your shirt had needed replacing, it was thin and stained with a seam slowly unthreading. Steve's pants are worse. The zip is tied closed with a hair tie and the cuffs are pulling apart.
Steve reveals a pair he'd already set aside. "Tada."
"Put them on!"
"Sheesh, hold your horses."
"You could've been changing while I was. You always nag about wasting daylight."
"And leave us both defenseless. Good idea." His tone suggests a genuineness he doesn't possess.
You stand guard. Steve changes. You have that intrusive thought to turn and look at the sound of his belt unbuckling, the shucking of fabric. Intrusive, unreal. You don't look because you're not a pervert. You do, however, wonder about it. His naked legs, his thighs.
You shake your head and bite the inside of your lip to stave off bad thoughts. Stupid.
"Let's go."
Out of the clothing store and back to the walkways. You and Steve skulk with your backs to each other and some space between you, watching the open shutters for zombies or other people. You don't know which is scarier.
The mall is wrecked. Smashed glass, mysterious liquids, no electricity. Daylight streams in bright and unhindered by the huge skylights above. Nature struggles to fall in with it, but it does. Birds nest in the rafters, bugs cling to the walls. You suppress chills at the scuttling sounds of vermin and almost trip over an upended rack of stuffies outside of the toy store.
"You okay?" Steve asks. You don't know if he's looking at you, your eyes pinned on the stairwell across the way. Accidental or otherwise, making noise is a signal to the zombies that you're here.
If there's anybody here, they definitely would've heard you.
You don't answer Steve's question. He doesn't ask again.
"There's, like, a hot pretzel stand to the right," he says, intrigued.
You check what's in front of you one last time and then catch up to Steve. You'd love to take his arm, not because you think he'd let you or anything, but it's easy to miss touching people and he's right there in front of you.
"Under the shutter," he says quietly.
You crawl under and emerge in the dark. Steve joins you with his torch already in hand, flashing light quickly in all four corners of the room.
"This might be a bad idea," you whisper.
"It's okay. I doubt zombies can crawl."
"If they can?"
Predictably, Steve ignores you.
He weaves between untouched chairs and tables. You catch onto the end of his shirt and he's generous enough to pretend you haven't, the two of you making your way to the front counter. There might've been edible food behind the glass once but now it's all infested. It's disgusting.
You've seen a lot worse.
"That's gross," Steve says.
You tap the display and a dead fly falls off of the glass.
"Lift the counter?" you whisper.
You make your way to the employees only door. "Be careful," he reminds you under his breath, "be quiet. You have your knife out?"
"Got it."
He throws the door open quick and looks around. There's a walk-in freezer to the left, an old couch in the middle, and a storage area to the right. Steve again checks each corner with the flashlight, the both of you holding your breath. You're holding the knife so tightly you can feel each divot of the grip moulding your skin.
"I think we're clear."
"I think we need another torch," you mumble.
It's really scary in the dark.
"They'll have batteries somewhere," Steve says. You think he might be humouring your fear. He's likely tired of having to reassure you.
Again, you grab his shirt. It's too dark to navigate the room without him.
Steve leads you to the staff kitchenette, opening the cabinets one by one. There's mugs in one, plates in another. Untouched by dust.
He has you hold the torch while he searches through drawers of kitchen tools and equipment.
"Do you miss pretzels?" you ask.
"Mm. With the cinnamon sugar."
"You like cinnamon?"
He pushes aside what looks like an ice cube tray of all things and finds an old key. He offers it to you with a peculiar smile, as if to say What do you think that does?
"Everyone likes cinnamon," he says.
"Not everybody."
"Everybody I knew did. Robin fucking loves cinnamon. At Christmas, she'd make me take her out for warm cinnamon cookies and... frozen cokes." His tone had started soft. It ends strangled.
"Frozen cokes? In winter? Isn't that sorta weird?" you ask.
He shuts the drawer harshly and doesn't answer. Your attempt to cut the tension backfires once again with him. Who could've guessed.
The next drawer is a motherlode.
"Yes," you say, cheeks taken by a sudden smile.
There's enough batteries to power your torch for a year. Steve tears open the packet and holds a hand up without looking at you. You scramble to open your bag and pull out your torch. Bigger and heavier than his is, it illuminates larger spaces and makes for less nerve-wracking supply runs, but it eats batteries like no tomorrow.
Steve cracks open your proffered torch and loads it up with batteries. The light flickers on before he's put the closing back into place.
He shines it straight in your eyes.
"Nice," you grumble.
"Now you got your own you can quit clinging," he says. "Why don't you go look in the freezer?"
"It'll all be spoiled. There hasn't been electricity in forever."
"Might find a can of something," he says with a shrug.
"If you want me to leave you alone, just say that."
"I want you to leave me alone."
You huff and spin away. Your torch shines over the couch, an ugly mess of floral pattern that went out of fashion a decade ago but is surprisingly new for a staff room. You drop yourself into it and stare at the ceiling for a while, dust motes drifting in the ray of torch light like snowflakes. You haven't seen snow in a long enough time that you're surprised you can remember what it feels like. If you close your eyes, stick out your tongue, a cold like ice feels sharp on your taste buds.
Steve cusses to himself. You sit up and find him sucking on an injured finger.
"Need help?" you ask.
He sticks his knife into the top of a cardboard box. "What did I tell you? Go look in the freezer."
"Steve, there's not gonna be anything in there."
"I worked in a place like this before. Just look."
You roll your eyes, feel super guilty about rolling your eyes, and then roll your eyes again when he says, "Don't be lazy."
"I'm not," you defend. Your whining falls on deaf ears.
The freezer door handle is fucked. You pull and pull until your palms burn and can't get it to unlock. Changing tactics, you press all of your weight forward and feel something click like it's not supposed to. The door crashes forward and you fall to one knee with a startled shriek.
Your heart slams between your ribs. When you're trying to be hypervigilant of every small sound, every movement, every change in your environment, sudden events are like a shot of adrenaline.
You land on one hand. Your torch flickers further in the room.
"Fuck," you mutter.
"What happened?" Steve asks, his footsteps fast and moving toward you.
You scramble forward to grab the torch before he can see you've broken it. You're ashamed at your own idiocy — you burn with it, a flush of heat in your cheeks that. Steve won't lie to you to make you feel better, so if the torch is broken he's gonna call you an idiot for it.
"Nothing!" you call.
The smell hits you like a freight train. Spoiled milk. Shelves and shelves of spoiled milk and batter. You gag and throw a hand over your nose. It smells almost as bad as a zombie, and they smell like fresh hell.
"Y/N," Steve says.
You throw your eyes over your shoulder and realise the door has closed behind you. There's a sound of a jiggling door handle on the other side. From your side it doesn't move.
A sinking feeling begins.
"Steve," you say, hitting your torch against your thigh. The light flickers off completely. You gawp.
"Can you open the door?"
You push your weight against it urgently. The handle doesn't want to move.
"I can't get it," you say, panicked.
"Push it inward."
"I am!"
"Okay, alright. Hold your horses."
"Steve, it won't open."
"I heard you the first time. Don't worry. I'm gonna get it open."
You throw yourself at the door. Steve must guess from the sound. "Stop," he says, frustration seeping into his low tenor, "that's not gonna work. It's hinged inward. Stand back, okay? I'm gonna force it."
"It's dark in here," you murmur pleadingly, moving away from the door.
"What?"
Your own fast breathing echoes around you. You hit the torch with the meat of your palm and the light flickers. You hit it again and it dissapears. You shouldn't be so scared, but the door closed means your trapped and the dark feels so oppressive now. Dark means you die, because you won't see a zombie before it bites you.
You realise that there's more than one person breathing.
Or rather, an illusion of breathing. A moan.
Your blood turns to ice as you spin. Your torchlight flicker flicker flickers, illuminating the face of somebody long dead.
"Oh my god," you say. It sticks to your throat like each word has been dipped in honey. Or ichor. "Fuck, Steve! Steve!"
"What?" he shouts back, equally freaked.
One eye opens. The other remains closed. One second, you can see the open socket, half an eyeball. The next, pitch darkness filled only by the grind of clicking teeth. Your breath catches in your throat and you keen as you walk backwards, the torch shaking in your hand.
The light flicks back on with your movement.
The zombie's face appears in front of yours.
You scream and fall flat on your butt, backpack preventing you from slamming onto your back. The torch turns off. You scrabble for your knife — where the fuck is your knife? Where's your knife?
Steve hammers against the door. "What the fuck?"
"There's a fucking geek in here!" you squeal, throat tight. You can barely get the words out. The zombie can't see you in the dark but it can hear you, it can smell you, and it's footsteps draw closer, one after another.
"Steve, get me out of here!" you beg.
He doesn't answer.
"Steve?" You don't sound like yourself. You're not sure you've ever made this sound before.
Nothing.
Your hands shake hard. You can't feel them as you bring the torch into your lap. You try to find the catch in the dark. When you can't you mess with the lens, screwing it tight to the right. You feel it move in, spinning back on.
The light exposes the zombies gained distance. He towers over you and you can't speak, can't breathe, can't sob. You hold your arms in front of your face and hope it won't hurt.
The door slams open. You get pushed roughly into the zombie's legs, the breath knocked from your chest.
You crumple in on yourself.
Footsteps slide with a rubber screech over the linoleum and you search the floor for your torch, breath coming in shirt pants. Your hand closes around it and you flick the switch with little success. Broken again. You must've loosened a fuse.
"Steve," you say desperately. Please don't die.
The zombie makes a noise like retching, Steve groans in extertion and then there's a sound of wetness, a sinking. A body falls to the floor.
Silence.
You flinch as he turns on his torch and shines it in your face.
"Oh, thank god."
Steve leans down and helps you up into his arms. You struggle to catch your breath, your face pressed hard into his chest. You can't cry though you desperately want to, too busy fighting for air.
Steve holds you, hands at your back. "It's okay. You got it, dummy, just take it slow."
You nod. You can't really focus as he pulls you out of the freezer. The air noticeably changes from brain matter to plain old stale.
"I thought you-" You swallow against an aching throat. "I thought you were gonna leave me."
"Why would you think that?" Steve asks.
"I was- I-" you stammer to a halt.
Your arms move of their own accord, over his shoulders and behind. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, hot tears spreading over his skin as you pull him in close, as close as you can.
Steve's hand is slow at first, hesitant against your shoulder. Your backpack stops him from hugging you properly, but you think maybe he might try otherwise.
"I wouldn't have left you here," he says.
There's hints. Confusion, sincerity. A rawness. You can't see his face, his torch pointed up at the ceiling, only where the light kisses his brow, the bridge of his nose.
Steve let's you cling until you've caught your breath.
"Let's sit down," he says.
He encourages you onto the old couch and shoves his small torch between the cushions. You miss his touch as soon as he leaves, an anxiety at being left alone dawns like a yawning chasm between you. Your relief when he returns can't be understated: you feel like a spent, abused nerve.
Cortisol and adrenaline crash through your veins. All that's left to do is come down. Hard, when you don't feel completely safe. Haven't felt completely safe in a long time. Steve's return helps.
"Don't touch the rim. It's sharp," he says, pressing an open can into your hand.
"Steve, is this-"
He passes you a spoon. "Sure is."
You don't have the luxury of nausea. Life or death situations start to wear off quicker when you're hungry, half-starved, and after a few good mouthfuls of pudding you're starting to feel better. Not perfect, not any less afraid, but there's a door between you and the zombie's dead dead body, and a door with a chair propped under the handle between you and the rest of the world. And there's Steve, a spoon between his lips with your poor torch in hand.
"You left your knife on the table. Do you know how stupid that is?" he asks, a spoon hanging from the corner of his mouth.
"Yes."
"Hm." He whacks the torch with his spoon. "Shit."
"I'm sorry."
"About the knife? You should be. You were totally defenseless."
"The torch."
He puts your torch down on the floor besides your gathered things. "Couldn't be helped."
"How'd you open the door?"
"Running start."
You sniffle and eat another spoonful of pudding. The last thing you'd eaten was half a gronala bar in the early hours of the morning when Steve had insisted you'd need your energy. It had been a year out of date and chalk in your mouth. The pudding may as well be straight molten gold for how valuable it feels.
It goes down soft. Calms your aching throat. By the time you've finished you almost feel settled. Almost.
"Steve... I'm sorry. For thinking you'd leave me. That's not fair. I mean, I know-" Why is it hard to talk to him? He's the only perosn you've had for company in God knows how long and you're still fumbling for the right thing to say. "You wouldn't do something like that to me. You have morals."
"I would do anything for my friends," he says, like he's disagreeing. "I would do anything to see them again. See them safe. Anything."
You bite your tongue. Tears sting. Hypocritical tears, because haven't you had that thought before? You'd do anything to get what you want. You'd do anything to live. Steve doesn't owe you anything.
"I didn't think you'd come back," you confess sheepishly.
"I'm always gonna come back for you."
You look up at him, finding his eyes illuminated in the dim light sweet and soft and brown.
"I want you to be safe."
"Are you saying I'm your friend?" you ask.
He glares at you. "Are we in middle school?"
"What?"
"What do you mean, what? What, I have to invite you to my birthday party or something? We need to go rollerblading together?"
"You're an asshole."
He snorts. "Asshole just saved your life."
"I didn't even wanna go in there, if you remember. I expressly said that I didn't wanna go in the freezer. It's your fault I was even in there in the first place."
"That's ridiculous. And a low blow. And fuck you."
"Not very friendly."
He laughs abruptly. It's a pretty sound, made golden by it's genuineness. Steve does sarcastic snickers and mocking chuckles, and none have ever sounded as his true laugh does now.
"I'll show you friendly," he mutters.
You raise your eyebrows. He moves enough to make the couch shift, upheaving your empty can and spoon. They fall together with a metallic clinking.
You watch mournfully. "I kind of wish I hadn't eaten it that fast. When's the last time we had sugar?"
"Don't speak too soon."
Steve shows you the stash. An entire box of pudding, enough to feed you both for a month, though the sugar might rot your teeth.
"We'll be sick of it in a week," Steve promises.
You're not so sure. Chocolate is chocolate, whether it's eaten during the zombie apocalypse or not.
-
more steve zombie!au
#steve harrington imagine#zombie!au#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x gn!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve zombie!au
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Lover's Lick
Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson, 2.4k words, also on ao3
Just a silly little first kiss idea that fell into my head because I accidentally typed Lover’s Lick instead of Lover’s Lake.
It was a blistering day in Hawkins. As a twisted way to enjoy it, the whole party decided to spend the day at Lover's Lake to continue celebrating what they’d dubbed “Dead Vecna Summer.”
Eddie wasn’t sure he was enjoying himself, yet, but Robin was determined to make sure everyone did.
“It’s called exposure therapy,” Robin explained as she lazily dragged her toes through the water from her seat on the dock. “If we all come here and have a good time, the positive association will start to make the bad shit less scary.”
“That doesn’t sound like a thing,” Mike countered, and Nancy leaned down and flicked a handful of water at him. She and Robin were near inseparable now, physically sitting shoulder to shoulder as they soaked up the sun, but also to the point where Nancy steadfastly defended everything Robin said.
“It’s a thing, Wheeler,” Eddie drawled from his own beach towel. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was a thing or not, but Robin tended to know her shit, so he was going along with her plan for now. Eddie had no interest in actually getting in the water, but the shady little patch of grass he’d managed to lounge in was pleasant enough. “I just don’t know if it’s working.”
Admittedly, the whole experience was made more pleasant by the fact that no one else but their little group was around, staring them down or making accusations with their eyes. No one really wanted to spend much time at Lover's Lakep anymore, considering it had so recently been a crime scene. The quarry and the copious other lakes around Hawkins seemed delightful by comparison; but maybe that was just because no one else had Robin.
So far, only Dustin, El, and Will had been brave enough to venture into the water. They were off the shore a ways, splashing each other and giggling ferociously. The glee on their faces was helping to tamp down the lingering sense of dread that Eddie couldn’t quite shake, despite his best efforts.
Steve was also eyeing them warily, either watching like a hawk to make sure nothing weird went tickling at their ankles, or because he was fighting himself on whether he wanted to venture in after them.
Eddie suspected it was a little bit of both.
“Fuck it,” Steve muttered to himself, before stripping his shirt off and wading into the lake. Eddie watched him go from behind the safety of his sunglasses, doing his best not to let his jaw go slack in the presence of a half dressed, sun kissed, and about to be wet Steve Harrington.
Once Eddie finally tore his eyes away, he noticed Robin also looking after Steve—but her expression was a worried one.
“Maybe we should play a game,” Eddie suggested with a slow grin. “For positivity, and whatnot.”
“Oooh, how about truth or dare?” Max recommended in a heartbeat, like she’d been waiting for an opportunity to present itself for her to suggest it. It instantly made Eddie wary of her intentions, but he shrugged and went along. If it made Max happy to wrangle some embarrassment out of her friends, she deserved as much. Plus, truth or dare never scared Eddie much, since he could always come up with something freakier to challenge people with than anyone ever dared him to do. And truths weren’t tricky at all, because he had a knack for making bullshit sound like the truth on the spot.
They didn’t come around on his turn for a while, yet, so he let his gaze drift back across the strikingly serene water until it landed back on Steve. He started off indulging the kids in letting them dunk his head under water, but now he seemed to have found some semblance of peace, floating on his back with his eyes on the sky.
“Earth to Munson,” Lucas called out, cupping his hands around his mouth and deepening his voice for the intended bullhorn effect. “It’s your turn, so you can stop ogling Steve, now.”
“I don’t ogle, Sinclair,” Eddie said, pulling his best unaffected act. All the same, he dragged his eyes back to his immediate surroundings. “That’s much more your speed.”
Lucas nervously glanced at Max, knowing exactly what Eddie was implying. Max seemed to know as well, because she came to Lucas’s defense in a snap. Eddie would’ve thought it was sweet, if he hadn’t just aimed the Max Cannon of Shit-Talking squarely in his direction.
“You’re the one who looks like you want to lick Steve’s face half the time,” she said with a knowing smirk. Everyone else burst into laughter, and Eddie had no choice but to eat the shame of being completely obvious, to the point where even all the gremlins knew he had an enormous crush on Steve.
“Only half the time?” Jonathan asked, and Argyle snorted. When even the two of them were helping to gang up on Eddie, he lost any hope of someone backing him up instead of roasting him further. He sighed in resignation.
Not long after all the Upside Down drama had concluded, Eddie and Robin had both teamed up and decided to come out to the whole group together. It was partly because Robin was sick of having to deny the allegations that she was in love with Steve, and partly because they both agreed it would let the group adjust so that there would be as little friction as possible when Will decided to follow suit. It turned out none of them really needed the extra education in love and acceptance and all that, though. The kids barely blinked an eye, and instead just shifted the allegations about being in love with Steve off of Robin and right onto Eddie.
“Oh my god,” Lucas squealed, completely overcome with excitement for some reason. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Eddie as he said, “That’s your dare!”
“I didn’t even pick—” Eddie tried, but everyone was already turning to look at him with matching evil smiles.
“Lick his face,” Max sat back, folding her arms against her chest in satisfaction.
“That’s not my dare,” Eddie muttered, already knowing his fate was sealed. He had to lick Steve’s face, or suffer some unknowable torture for time eternal for being a chickenshit.
“Lick his face,” everyone chorused, mercifully at a whisper so Steve wouldn’t hear. That didn’t make it any less mortifying.
“I swear to Christ—” Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, doing his best to ignore them. He thought maybe he could withstand the torture option, instead.
“Lick his face,” they all repeated, chanting like they only worshiped at the alter of humiliating Eddie in the most creative ways possible.
“You’re a bunch of heathens,” Eddie whined.
“Lick his face!” They repeated, insistent and already getting louder.
Eddie stared at Max in a silent plea, knowing she was the one who could most easily get everyone to lay off of him. This was her rodeo, and they both knew it. Max only stared back at him, unwavering. Eddie wondered if this was why she wanted to play truth or dare in the first place.
“Fucking,” Eddie grumbled, pulling himself up off his towel and whipping his own shirt and sunglasses off. Then he stood there, clad in nothing but his Garfield swim trunks, and took a deep breath to steady himself. He’d done worse than this, surely. It would be mortifying, but he’d get over it. Steve had a good enough sense of humor that Eddie didn’t think he’d be pissed, at least. “Fine.”
Then he stomped off into the lake and started swimming out to Steve to a round of raucous cheers at his back.
The calamitous thing he was about to go do was enough to distract Eddie from the fact that he was swimming in this lake for the first time since the spring, and he wasn’t being dragged down to its depths, or watching something mind-bendingly terrifying, or being chased for his life as he did. An entirely different kind of doom was spelled out for him, sure, but at least Eddie was swimming towards someone as his fate unfurled before him.
Steve really did look beautiful, sprawled out on his back, droplets of water glistening on his skin in the sun. Eddie intentionally caused a lot of fuss as he swam, making waves and noise as he went, so as not to startle Steve out of his peaceful reverie too severely.
Steve was already treading water, swimming upright again, by the time Eddie reached him.
“Hey,” he said, soft and trusting even though he probably shouldn’t have been.
“Hey,” Eddie echoed him, feeling the weight of fourteen sadistic eyes on his back. Once more, he was incredibly glad that no one else but their little group of friends was around to witness this. Eddie laughed, a desperate and delirious little sound that perfectly encapsulated how little he believed he was about to give in to peer pressure like all the preppy conformists he always made fun of.
“I’m sorry in advance,” Eddie said, and Steve tilted his head in confusion.
“Huh—”
Eddie reached up and grabbed Steve’s chin, watching as the lake water pebbled across the planes of Steve’s face, and gently tipped it towards the side. Then he licked a stripe up Steve’s cheek, quick but thorough, just enough to savor the feel of Steve’s skin on his tongue for even a moment.
Just as quickly as it’d begun, it was over, and Eddie turned around to face his jury, still idly judging from the dock. They broke out into another round of cheers and applause, so Eddie couldn’t help but thrust his arms up in triumph and give them a little show.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, then, and had to kick his feet quicker so he didn’t start sinking at the sensation of being spun around. Eddie braced himself, for a split second thinking he was gonna get punched.
The next thing he felt was, in fact, a hand on his face, but it was as gentle of a touch as he could ever remember feeling. Eddie peeked one eye open, only to find Steve looking back at him, a small smile playing at his lips. Steve rubbed his thumb across Eddie’s cheek bone, then very deliberately dropped his eyes to Eddie’s lips.
“What are you doing, Stevie?” Eddie asked, wondering if he was dreaming all of a sudden.
“What was Robin rambling about earlier?” Steve murmured, the low rumble of humor in his chest. “Positive associations?”
Eddie just nodded dumbly at him, entirely unsure if that was what Robin had said at all.
“Well, here’s mine,” Steve said simply, then leaned in and kissed him.
Even though the world had seemingly thudded to a stop, Eddie felt the way Steve’s lips moved against his own, firm and soft all at once, leaving him all tingly in an instant. Eddie didn’t know how, or why, but Steve was kissing him like he meant it—like he’d been ruminating on his desire to slot his lips between Eddie’s it for as long Eddie had been fantasizing about the same.
The realization was a heady one, and Eddie heard a surprised little whimper escape his throat. Steve hummed happily in response, then slid the hand on Eddie’s cheek into his hair, getting a better grip so he could maneuver the angle of Eddie’s face to his liking.
Eddie thought he’d let Steve position him however the fuck he wanted as long as he kept kissing him. He grabbed on to Steve’s shoulders on instinct, dragging him in closer, with the water allowing Steve to flow into Eddie's arms with ease until their chests were pressed together. Steve gently nipped at Eddie’s bottom lip with his teeth, and Eddie rode that wave to bold new heights, daring to drag his tongue along the curve of Steve’s, perfect, delectable mouth. Steve's grip on Eddie's hair tightened, then he opened up and rolled his tongue against Eddie's own.
Eddie thought Lover’s Lake might actually be the best place on Earth.
It occurred to Eddie that he might sink and drown and die in that moment, since he completely forgot how to tread water when the only thing he could focus on was Steve’s mouth on his own, Steve’s hand in his hair, Steve kissing him so thoroughly that it was worth it if this was where he died after all. But Steve secured an arm around Eddie’s waist, holding them both aloft in the water, letting the sunshine dance across their shoulders and set their kisses surging with even more heat than their hold on each other could generate on its own.
When they finally pulled apart, Eddie heard the distant roar of hooting and hollering coming at them from the dock and their friends nearby in the water, but he couldn’t do anything but stare at Steve, dumbstruck and with the taste of Steve's cherry lip balm still on his tongue.
“Was that okay?” Steve asked, looking worried now.
Eddie thought the best way to chase that concern right off Steve’s pretty face was to kiss him again, and again, and again.
“Oh my god, get a room,” Dustin hollered at them after a moment, and Eddie relished the feel of Steve’s smile against his own. Eddie pulled back just enough to tilt his head in silent communication, doing his best not to get too distracted by how Steve’s lips were still swollen thanks to him.
“Definitely,” Steve nodded in agreement, and two of them took off after Dustin in perfect sync. By the time Dustin realized what he was in for, it was too late. He paddled away like a mad man, screeching and giggling all the way, but Steve was too fast. He gained on Dustin quickly, getting his arms around him just as Eddie caught up.
Together, they each smacked a sloppy kiss to one of Dustin’s cheeks, then dunked him underwater together. Dustin did his best to look affronted when he resurfaced, but his grin was unmistakable.
“It’s about time,” he muttered, then splashed Steve and Eddie both and quickly paddled away again. El and Will joined in the chase this time, and Eddie heard several splashes from the dock behind him as reinforcements came to unite in a game of ganging up on Henderson.
None of them ever really panicked about taking a dip in Lover's Lake after that.
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Take It Out On Me Part 14 (Steddie X Plus Size Reader)
A/N: I am so in love with this version of them <3
Warnings: Daddy Steve/Sir Eddie and Sub Plus Size Reader and all that implies (I regret nothing!), SMUT, ANGST, and FLUFF!, Spanking, degrading, edging, throat grabbing, smacking, Reader talks to her parents about her love for them (her dad gets into a fight; only the aftermath is mentioned), Eddie and Steve both briefly talk about their parents and trauma (mentions of child abuse and abandonment), Reader is bullied in this one (called names like whore, fat, pig) but the guys make a stand for her.
Word Count: 6638
Your mom rises from the booth she was waiting in to give you a hug after you entered the restaurant you were supposed to meet in for lunch that afternoon.
Steve and Eddie were extremely apprehensive about letting you go alone but you were able to find a middle ground, asking them to drop you off and then pick you up in two hours.
The conversation started off a bit awkward with casual small talk being exchanged about school and the prom you went to put together by the three people you loved the most. After you both cleared your plates, you mom finally found the courage to ask some questions.
“Did you know them before hand?”
“Kind of. It was more I knew OF them. We didn’t really become friends till the end of junior year and then got together later after summer.”
“Are they good to you?”
“Of course, mama. No one’s ever treated me the way they do. I love them so much.”
“Th-that’s what I don’t understand, Y/N. How can you love two people? Something HAS to get into the way.”
You shake your head as you lean back in your seat. “I don’t know how to explain it. Trust me, I thought about it a lot. Whenever I think ‘how can I love two completely different men’ the first images that come to mind are Steve going with us to movies he hates but he knows I like them. Him dancing with me in Eddie’s bedroom to a song on the radio or buying me different body washes and perfumes just because he thinks I’d like them. I think about Eddie’s face when he took me my first concert and sang obnoxiously loud with me as the band played.”, you giggle.
“I see him whining when I’m trying to help him study but he still intently listens to me, making sure I know he appreciates me helping him. They both hold me after I wake up from a nightmare and listen to me when I cry. They take care of me and do whatever they can to make me smile.”, you shrug. “I love them.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek as she absorbs your words. “Did I ever tell you the first time your dad met your grandfather, the night ended with him in jail?”
Your eyes widen as you shake your head making her laugh.
“He was only there for a day but, yeah, my dad HATED him. He said your father was ‘a dirty hippie who would never come close to being good enough’ for his daughter. God, I was so embarrassed.”
“How did dad end up arrested?”
“I told my father that I loved Rob and no matter what we were going to get married. He got angry and tried shoving him out the door. When I went to follow, he tugged me back, and hurt my arm so…your dad came back swinging.”, she smiles as she shrugs. “Definitely proved he wasn’t a hippie.”
Her grin grows when you laugh hard at her story.
“I’m sorry, honey. I can’t imagine how hard this has been on you.”
“Yeah…”, you sighed. “Mr. Harrington hasn’t made it easier.”
“What did Bill do?” You filled her in on the rumor he started and how it spread through the school. How it led to the boys getting into a fight for you and everything else that followed. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch. He thinks he’s so high and mighty—”
“Mama!”, you giggle as you reach for her hand. “No. No killing. Honestly…it’s nice to hear you defend me…like you just did.”
“I know it doesn’t excuse what happened but the reason I didn’t before…I was just in shock…I didn’t…”
“No. I…it’s alright. I forgive you.” You look at your watch as your alarm beeps. “I should get going. The guys are picking me up.”
“May I walk you out?”
You beam at her as you nod. As soon as you both step outside, you’re met with Steve leaning on the driver’s side of his BMW with his arms folded as Eddie sits on the hood smoking a cigarette.
“Charming.” She raises her eyebrow in their direction and they quickly scramble to attention making you smile. “Have you three found a place yet?”
“No ma’am. We went looking though near the campus. We thought that would be better so she could be near school while also being closer to Masie.”, Steve answered.
“Maze is staying at the dorms on campus.”, you explain when she glances your way before shifting her gaze towards Eddie.
“I’m sorry my husband hurt you.”
The metalhead shrugs. “He didn’t hurt me. Would have hurt her though if he hit his intended target.”
Your mom looks away in shame. “I didn’t…He’s never…I never thought he would do something like that to you. We always said we would never hit our kids.” She sighs as you reach for her hand.
“So did my father. It wasn’t so much ‘Hey honey. We’ll never hit our kids when we have them.’ But more ‘I know I beat the shit out him this time but I swear it will never happen again.’”
“Ed. It’s alright, bud.” Steve pats him on the back to calm him down.
Without warning, your mother steps forward and grabs the metalhead’s chin firmly, forcing him to look at her.
“Do you love my daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
He tries to turn out of her grasp but she just grips him tighter.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Would you ever hurt her the way Allen did with you?”
Fire filled his eyes at her question.
“No. Ma’am.”, he growled.
She nods before releasing him from her hold and turns to face Steve.
“Do you love my daughter?”
“More than anything…ma’am.”
“Calm down, Mr. Harrington. This isn’t a popularity contest.”
As she quizzed him, you stepped to Eddie’s side and intertwined your fingers with his as you laid your head on his shoulder.
“Would you ever cheat on her and hurt her the way Bill does with your mother?” His head cocks to the side in surprise. “Not a big secret, sweetheart, I’m afraid.”
“No ma’am.”
“With all due respect, Steven, out of the two of you I’m more worried about her with you. I have eyes and ears. I know how big shot Steve Harrington ran around Hawkins showing off with different girls on his arm.”
This time, it was his turn to get angry.
“I’m not like that anymore. She…Y/N, made me want to be better.”
Her eyes softened at his admission, even more so when she took a step back and saw how you were with Eddie.
“Did she tell you about Christian?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fucking asshole.”
Your mom laughs at the metalhead’s choice of words. “You’re not wrong. Hear me boys, if you ever hurt my child, I will do way worse than what I did when it came to Mr. Wexler. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”, they respond in unison.
She smiles before coming over to give you a hug. “I’ll talk to you later, ok? And I’ll talk to your father.”
“I’m sorry about that.”, you say to them after she leaves. “You two alright?”
“Yeah…are you?” You nod and wrap your arms around Steve as he comes to stand in front of you. “Was that normal? That integration style hello?”
“Um, I don’t know to be honest. You’re the first guys I’ve dated to really meet my parents.”
***
“Where have you been?”, your dad asks as your mom walks in the door.
“I had lunch with Y/N.” He responds with a hm before turning back to face the tv. “Rob, I think you should talk to her. She…she really does care about them and they genuinely seem to have her best interest in mind.”
“Bev, this is the last time I’m saying this. No.”
You mother sighs as she begins heading for the bedroom. “Apparently Bill is telling the town our ‘whore daughter’ brainwashed his son to use him for his money and status. When Steve confronted him, he said he couldn’t ‘use her properly’ because she’s not good looking and has no connections in town.”
She watches as his fist on the arm rest of the couch clenches.
#############
“Wow, this place is fucking amazing.”, Eddie murmurs under his breath.
“It really is.”, Steve agrees. “Can we afford it?”
“I think so. With all three of our incomes—”
“Oh my god! This place is beautiful and so close to the campus. It’s also not too far from the mall so you guys can sleep in before work.”, you smile as you sigh. “It’s perfect.”
It takes you a moment to realize that their faces don’t match yours.
“It is perfect…right?”
Eddie returns your smile as he walks over to you to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, sweetheart. It is.”
“We don’t have to pick this one. I know there are some others we can try and—” His index finger cuts you off as he places it over your lips.
“Do you like it?” You nod earnestly. “Well then, come on Harrington, I think we have some forms to fill out.”
***
“Yay! You three found an apartment.”, Masie claps as you beam at her from your side of the lunch table. “And you’ll be so close to. You’ll have to give me a tour after school some time before graduation next week.”
“Of course! And I found this place a couple of hours away, that has furniture for really cheap. It’s donated and it’s so nice. Eddie, can you reach in my bag and grab that brochure for that store for me?”
He gently nods as you and your friend keep talking while he digs in your backpack. A wadded piece of paper falls onto his lap and he quickly catches it, pausing as he takes a look.
“My mom said she would help us move. I’m so excited—”
“The fuck is this?”
You all turn to look at the metalhead as he holds up the note in his hand.
“Oh, um, it’s nothing. You can throw that away.” As you reach over the table, he pulls his arm back, keeping it away from your grasp.
“It’s nothing, huh? ‘Y/N Hawkins Fat Whore. Available for the right price. For recommendations see Freak Munson and Bitch Harrington. Fill out applications. Oh who are we kidding. She’ll have anyone. Just ask!’”
“Who the fuck gave you that?!”, Masie growled in anger.
“I don’t know…I found it in my locker.”, you answer in a small voice as your head fell.
“When?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Bullshit.”, Steve grumbled.
When you finally found the courage to look their way, it was worse than you expected; they were fuming. You couldn’t tell if it was at you for not telling them or whoever left the note in your locker.
“How many times have you gotten something like this?”, Eddie asked.
You knew you were in trouble and didn’t see the point of hiding it anymore. Grabbing your bag, you pulled out a folder, flipping through papers till you found what you were looking for. You handed them to Steve who looked them over with his friend.
“What’s it like fucking a freak? Does he summon the devil or draw symbols with pig’s blood?”
“I bet Harrington cums early every time. Too bad I don’t like fat chicks or I’d take care of you.”
“Ugly…disgusting…whore…slut…you should be ashamed…no wonder mommy and daddy don’t love you anymore.”
Steve’s jaw tightened; he recognized the handwriting. Abruptly, he rises from the table, gathering the papers in his hands as he heads straight for his old table, the popular kids table. Tommy is mid joke as the man slams the notes down with his palm startling everyone.
“Do you think you’re funny? Sliding these into her locker?”
“Steve, we have no idea—”
“You don’t even have the balls to say it to her face or mine. Don’t worry. I do. You leave her the fuck alone or I swear to God. I will make your lives hell and not just until graduation.”
“EVERYONE LISTEN UP!” Eddie climbed on to the popular kids table as he addressed the room. “That beautiful woman right there?”, he points to you. “She’s not our whore and we aren’t using her. We’re not Christian Wexler. We have no problem telling you assholes that Y/ N is ours. We love her and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you fuckers keep treating her like garbage. If Steve and I catch anyone sneaking these bullshit notes into her locker or making fun of her in any way we WILL have a problem!”
He jumps back down onto the floor next to the other man and tears up the notes they left you.
“Do you understand me?” Everyone looks down nodding their heads. “Oh, come on gang. Don’t get shy on me now. Wouldn’t want to summon the devil to come have a word with you.”
Their eyes widen as they verbally confirm his question before he tosses the torn up paper at Tommy. Both men come back to their seats and casually continue eating their food, heavily breathing as they try to calm down.
“Munson…”, a male voice speaks his name as he slowly walks by your table.
“Mr. C.”
“Problem?”
“No, sir. No problem here.”, he answers without looking his way.
Your teacher nods before a little smile forms on his lips as he passes you by, lightly tapping your shoulder as he continues monitoring the room.
It takes them awhile before they finally glance your way and notice you two smiling at them.
“Calm down. You’re still in trouble.”, Eddie smirks as he tries to sound angry.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, well, we did.”, Steve huffs.
Your grin grows as you slide your chair back and come around to sit on his lap. His arms immediately wrap around you as you circle yours around his neck. As you lean your forehead against his temple, he lets out a heavy exhale.
“I love you.”, he mumbles.
“I love you to.”
###############
“Hey, baby. Wow, you guys picked a good spot here.”, your mom grins as she enters the apartment.”
“Right? I love it. I was afraid we’d have to settle for something small which is fine. I just thought Eddie deserved a bigger space after growing up in that small trailer. Steve doesn’t care either way. He says he always thought his dad’s house was too big. I think it’s just because he spent so much time alone.”
Her smile grows as she listens to you talk. The more you speak about them the more she sees your genuine care for them, allow her to understand a bit more about your relationship.
“Jesus Christ!”, Eddie exclaims as both men stumble through the door carrying a couch. “And…by that I mean—”
“It’s ok, Mr. Munson. You don’t have to suck up to me.” You mom laughs before turning her attention back to you. “After tomorrow you’ll officially be a graduate. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”, you giggle. “I’m just ready to leave those kids behind.”
A sudden knock startles everyone as your father slowly walks in. “This isn’t where you guys are putting the couch, right?”
Both boys turn to you, unsure of what to do.
“Are you lost, Rob?”
You dad exhales as he playfully glares at your mom. “No, Bev. I just…I thought maybe…I don’t know…I’d see the place…It’s, uh, it’s nice.” As he pulls his hands out of his pockets to gesture around the area, you notice his knuckles are bleeding.
“Dad! Oh my god.” You don’t even think twice as you grab his arm and lead him over to the sink to wash his wound. Steve and Eddie exchange a glance before looking towards your mom who holds up her palm assuring them that everything is under control. “What happened? Steve, can you grab the stuff from the bathroom?”
He nods, disappearing and reappearing with things to take care of your father as you both sit at the table. Still not sure of how to proceed he and the metalhead sit across from you while your mom sits next to her husband on the end.
“I, uh, went to talk to Harrington today. Not you…the other one.”, he follows as the boy looks at him confused. “Bev told me what he said at the bar and what you told her he said to Steven.” Your father shifts his gaze towards him before looking back down at his knuckles as you clean them with antiseptic. “Thank you…for trying to defend her.”
“I love her for her. I don’t care what she looks like or where she comes from.” Eddie lightly nods his head, agreeing with Steve’s words.
“I went to his house and confronted him. Let’s just say he won’t be posing for any pictures anytime soon.” He chuckles but it fades as no one laughs along with him. While you wrap his cuts, he turns towards the other boy. “I’m sorry for hitting you.”
Eddie folds his arms over his chest. “Thanks but I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. That hit wasn’t meant for me.”
When he focused his attention back to you, your eyes were downcast as you placed your palms in your lap. Your father sighs as he leans back.
“I AM sorry for…The whole situation was just…a lot. I don’t get it. I don’t think I ever will. When I met your mom, I knew I loved her. I couldn’t picture loving anyone else. How can you…I mean?”
“That’s how I feel about them. I…”, you shrug as you try to find the right words. “I can’t explain it. Since the first conversation we had, I knew there was something about them.”
“I just…I had no idea. I never thought you would ever do something like this. Where’s the line, Y/N? I mean what else are you capable of?”
“She’s capable of anything.”, Eddie answers. “That shouldn’t scare you. You should be proud of her. She’s not afraid anymore. When we met her, she was so timid to the point that she would literally fold into herself so people would leave her alone. Look at her now. She got into college, her own place, she’s actually fucking smiling…sorry.”
Your mom smirks as he apologizes.
“Dad, I’m not…running around having a relationship with everyone. We aren’t going to add people to our dynamic. I love THEM. If we…we broke up…I wouldn’t go searching for two people to be with again. It’s not a preference. It just is.”
Your father nods as he leans back in his seat before his eyes meet yours briefly and he softly smiles. “So is it just the couch you guys got today or is there more?”
“Um, her bed is in the truck outside.”
“Well, come on, gentlemen. Let’s get the last of the stuff up here.”
##############
“Alright, freaks and weirdos of the class 1984, smile!” Steve holds up the polaroid and takes a picture before handing it back to Masie. You giggle as he obnoxiously shakes the image in his hand.
“We are finally free and I am so excited!”, your best friend grins as she does a little dance. “How does it feel, Munson? You were almost held back.”
“Yeah, thanks to princess here, I made it by the skin of my fucking teeth.” Smiling you lean over and kiss his cheek.
“I’m glad BOTH your parents decided to come, Y/N.”
“Me to.” You sneak a glance at Steve as his eyes shift down to the risers you four were sitting on. “I’m sorry yours didn’t.”
He flashes you a slanted smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to bring your closer to his side as he kisses the top of your head. “Even if they didn’t hate me right now, I don’t think they would have come. All this stuff is beneath him.”
“Well, I’m proud of you; both of you.”
Eddie grabs your hand, bringing the back of it to his lips.
“Jesus Christ, Ed. Can’t you ever just look fucking normal for a picture for once?”, Steve asks after the polaroid finally displayed the image he took.
“What are you talking about, Harrington? That is how I normally look.”
“Do you want to hang out tonight?”, you ask Masie as she hands the photo back to the boys.
“I can’t tonight. I…have a date.”
“Ooo…with who?”
“None of your business, Munson.”, she answers playfully before whispering towards you. “I’ll tell you later.”
***
The three of you lay haphazardly on your bed in your apartment as you pass the joint Eddie rolled back and forth. Steve happily sighs from his spot on your stomach that he is using as a pillow while you absently run your fingers through his hair. Your own head is resting on the metalhead’s lap as he leans his back against the headboard.
“We got you present, sweetheart.”
“You got me something? Aw, you guys didn’t have to. You graduated to.”
“Oh, trust me, honey. This is also a present for us.”, the other boy laughs as Eddie slides off the bed. After disappearing into the living room, he comes back with a box, and hands it to you.
“Open it in the bathroom and put it on.”
You nod as you thank him, scurrying into the bathroom to do what he asked. Lifting the top off the lid on your present, you gasp at the silky, purple material you find within. As you raise it towards the light, you notice most of the lingerie garment is see-through except some purposely placed designs that block the area of your nipples. The matching panties conceal all the major bits but when you slide them on you notice they still display a lot of your ass.
This is completely new territory for you and as you stare at yourself in the mirror you can’t help but feel a little self-conscious.
“Babe? Are you alright in there?”, Eddie asks.
“Um, yeah…”
“Uh oh. Is that self-doubt I’m hearing?” A breathy giggle escapes your lips. They both know you to well. “Get your sexy ass out here.”
With one final sigh, you open the bathroom door and display the gift they had bought you. They had both been sitting on the edge of the mattress waiting for you, their eyes lighting up when the land on you and your body.
“I-I’ve never worn anything like this before.”
“Well, we’ll definitely be buying more. God damn, Y/N.” Steve places his hand over his chest as he exhales heavily. “You look so fucking gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”, you blush.
Eddie grins as he beckons you with his finger to come closer, grabbing your hips and yanking you onto his lap with your back against his chest. His arms wrap around you as he leans his chin on your shoulder.
“You do look stunning.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Mmm—so polite. I love it. Can you do me a favor, pretty girl?”
“Of course. Anything.”
The metalhead’s lips kiss your cheek before hovering outside the shell of your ear. “Can you touch yourself for us?”
“I-I-In front of you?”, you asked in a small voice that had both men trying to hide their groans.
“Yes, sweetheart.” Gripping your hand, he sticks two of your fingers in his mouth, wetting them with his saliva. “Right here on Master’s lap. Take these two fingers and rub your clit for us.”
After moving the piece of silk covering your core, you do has he asks, moaning as you press slow circles against your nub.
“That’s our girl. Does that feel good?”
“Yes, Sir, it feels good.”
“Fuck, princess, you drive us crazy.”, Eddie mewls. “Now, I want you to slide them into your tight little pussy for me and keep moving them as we talk to you, okay?”
“Mmm—yes, Sir.”
“How do you want it tonight, Y/N? Do you want Daddy and I to be nice and gentle?”
“Or…” Steve’s soothing voice shot straight to you core making you clench around your digits. “Do you want us to fuck you hard and rough like a whore? It’s been so long since we’ve done that.”
“Fuck.”, you whimper as you thrust your fingers at a much faster pace. “F-fuck me like you guys did—mmm—that first time w-we were together.”
They both laugh as Eddie’s palm glides up your skin from your wrists up to your throat, turning your face so his mouth is hovering over your own.
“We can do that. You have to make yourself cum first though, baby.” Your eyes flutter closed as you lean back against his chest. “You know, I think about the first time when I’m playing with myself to. I picture you flat on the desk with your mouth open for me; moaning around my dick while Steve fucked you.” Eddie licked his lips as he smiled.
“Personally, I like to think about the first time I called you and you touched yourself just like this. Fuck, just hearing you moan about how you belong to us and how sore you were from us fucking you.” Steve’s fingers reached out to trace your skin along your thigh and you mewl at the contact.
You needed them now, pumping your fingers as fast as you could till you felt legs shake as the coil snapped. While you were panting against his cheek, Eddie gripped your wrist and held out your hand to the boy beside him who graciously ran his tongue over your messy digits, humming at the taste.
A sly grin spread across your face as you get off the man’s lap and stand to face them.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”, Steve asked with a smile of his own.
“I was just thinking that you guys got to ask me…maybe I should ask you…which version of me do you want? Do you want meek Y/N you fucked that first night or sassy, slightly bratty Y/N?”
You giggle when they glance at each other with a small smirk. You already know their answer before they say anything. Today was a good day and they didn’t exactly need you to fully obey right away. It had been a while since they needed to put you in your place and remind you who was in charge.
“Oooh, you guys are taking a little too long to answer.”, you sing as you make a playful thinking face. “Hm. Maybe I should go introduce myself to the neighbors in this gorgeous piece of lingerie. Maybe they can actually make a decision.”
“Do it.”, Eddie challenges.
“Don’t think I won’t, Sir.” You slowly back up towards the living room and inch your way to the door. They get up to follow you and you bite your bottom lip as Steve glides a head of you to lean against the wall.
“We’ll go on then.”, he gestures towards the door. “Here let me help you.” As he reaches for the knob, you quickly block it with your body.
“Steve!” His eyes widen as his head tilts and you quickly cover your mouth.
“Oooh, baby. You just went all in, didn’t you?”, he muses as he slides behind you and wraps his arms around to your front.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, honey, but we still have to punish you, right Ed?”
“You’re right, Steve.”
“Did we ever find handcuffs that won’t hurt our beautiful girl?”
“Not yet BUT I did read this thing in a book that offered some alternatives.” The air hits your back as Steve steps away and a little moan leaves your lips at the sound of Eddie taking off his belt. Leather wraps around your wrists and after a few moments you find yourself restricted.
“How is that, sweetheart?”
“Why are you asking, Sir? You can hurt me tonight. I want you to be rough with me.”
Calloused fingers abruptly grip your chin and turn your head to face him.
“It doesn’t matter why I’m fucking asking. If I ask you something, you answer. Now, how does that feel, little girl?”
“It feels fine.”
“Good.” He releases you from his hold and pushes your front half over the arm of the couch. “Jesus, I’m going to stop being nice and just call you demeaning names all night. You want to act like a bratty baby we can treat you like one.” Eddie’s hand comes down hard on your ass making you jump.
The sudden sound of vibration causes you to sit up to look behind you but the metalhead is prepared, shoving you again and slapping your behind. “Don’t move.”, he growls.
Long fingers move the silk panties covering your sex and you whimper when the wand finds you clit. They love that device, becoming almost giddy every time they use it. The reaction and moans it pulls from you tortures them as much as it does you but they can hold it together better than you can.
“Yes…yes Daddy. Please.”
“Does that feel good, baby?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Tell me when you’re about to cum.”
“I’m…I’m gonna…” Abruptly, he pulls the wand away and smacks your ass. “No, no. Please…”
“What? You said you wanted it like that first night.”, Eddie snickered as he placed his naked body on the couch in front of you. “You think we cared if you came? It was just an added bonus that you did. Plus you wanted to act like a brat. Do brats get to cum, Stevie?”
“No, Ed, they do not.”
The metalhead watched with a gleam in his beautiful brown orbs as his friend pressed the device against your nub again, slowly building you up and then pulling it away before you could climax. It felt like it lasted forever as you panted and cried over Eddie’s lap. His hands brush over your hair, pulling it out of your face as he watched the frustration in your eyes.
“Fuck, Y/N. You have no idea how much this turns me on. Sometimes even I forget that we control that pretty pussy of yours.”
“Munson, how can you forget something like that?”, Steve chided as he smacked your ass making you moan.
“No, no Harrington. Not the physical part, I mean obviously her cunt is ours. We own her but the fact that only we can make you moan like you are right now. That only we can allow you to cum…fuck… hearing you beg for it.” He bites his lip before leaning forward to capture your own.
“Please…”
“Please what?”
“Please, Sir. I want to cum.”
“You want to cum?”
“Y-yes, Sir. Please.”
Steve moves the wand again just as your about to, turning off the device and setting it aside as you whine. Eddie’s hand connects with your cheek at the sound.
“Stop fucking pouting.”
“Hey Ed, you know what I was just thinking? You’ve never had her ass, have you?”
“Not yet, no.” He leans back till he’s flat on the couch. “May want to wet it a bit.”, he grins holding the base of his cock. Climbing up, you rest your body on your knees as you tilt forward and envelope him into your mouth.
“Baby girl, come on. You can do better than that.” You gasp as Steve’s massive palm holds the back of your head and shoves you forward onto Eddie’s length making you gag and drool around him.
“Fuck me.” He grunts as you choke before scoffing and tugging you off him by your throat. “What are you doing?! Are you still being a fucking brat?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“Then why are you sucking my dick like you’ve never done it before? A little slut like you should know how to do it properly by now!”
You whine as you bounce on your knees and he smacks you again.
“Color baby?”
“Green, Daddy.”
“She’s fine, Steve. She’s being a pain in the ass right now because we haven’t allowed her to cum yet.”
“Wasn’t that the first thing we did?”
“She doesn’t count that, do you, princess? These little fingers are just too small to make her cum as hard as we do.” Grabbing your throat again, he forces you to face him. “Now, suck my cock correctly or neither of us are going to make you feel good tonight. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
*SMACK* “Louder!”
“Yes, Sir, I understand!”
As soon as he releases you, you take him in your mouth again, this time flattening your tongue and bobbing your head with the same energy you know makes him moan.
“See? Just like that, baby.”
Fingers move your hair to the side as Steve speaks to you with his low Daddy voice that has you clenching your thighs together.
“It’s not just about pleasure, little miss. Remember, you need him as lubricated as possible so he doesn’t hurt you.” He grins as you push Eddie to the back of your throat, holding still for as long as you can before pulling your head off him and spitting salvia onto his tip. “See, Ed? Little girl just needs a guiding hand is all.”
“Uh huh.”, the metalhead smirks as he leans up and brings your lips to his before using his thumb to wipe the tears that were smeared under your eyes. “A guiding hand to the ass maybe.” He softly smiles as he jokingly spanks you. “Turn around.”
You do as he asks while he places some strategic pillows behind his head allowing him to sit up slightly. After guiding your back to his chest, he opens your legs and positions you just so before reaching down to grab his cock.
“Can you hold yourself open for me, baby?”
“I-I can’t.”
Eddie grunts in annoyance as he pushes you up slightly, yanking the belt from your wrists and throwing it to the ground. As soon as your free, you do what he asks and help guide him into your ass.
“F-Fuck me.”
Steve waits a few moments, allowing you both to get comfortable before climbing between your legs. Gliding his tip through your folds you shuttered as he grazed your clit. Your eyes rolled back and closed as he sheathed himself inside of you, your back collapsing against Eddie’s chest as you allowed them to take over.
Each thrust was like a little taste of heaven. Eddie was right, they controlled your pleasure. No one could ever make you feel as good as they did. When you glanced up at Steve you noticed he was fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Da-Daddy, are you okay?”
“Mmm—yeah. You just—fuck—you look so fucking beautiful. I don’t want to take my-my eyes off of you.”
You felt one of your legs drop flat against the metalhead’s as his hand came up to turn your face so he could kiss your lips.
“So…so beautiful.”, he echoed his friend.
“I love you, Eddie.”, you panted against his lips.
He heavily moaned as he wrapped both arms around you tightly and begin ramming his hips hard up into yours.
“I love you to, Y/N. Cum, baby. Fucking cum hard on our cocks.”
Steve’s palm held on to your shoulder for leverage as he matched Eddie underneath you. You moaned and begged until the coil that they had been winding all night finally snapped and you cried as you came hard.
“Yes! Good girl. Such a…good…girl.” With a few more rough thrusts, Steve warmed your insides with Eddie following shortly after.
“Jesus Christ…that was amazing.” They carefully pulled out of you and the metalhead continued to hold you against his chest while the other boy went to grab some water.
“I’m sorry I said you name.”
Eddie tilted his head so he could see your face better. “Sweetheart, hearing you tell me you love me whether it be Sir, Master, Eddie, or freak…”, he smiles when you giggle. “It’s the best thing in the world.”
“I’ve never thought you were a freak. Even before I knew you.”
Steve grabbed your wrist and slowly moved you onto the cushions so you both could sit up. After gulping down the water he brought you, you leaned on his shoulder, placing a kiss on his skin.
“You really do look beautiful in this by the way.” He runs his fingers down the silky material.
“Thank you, Daddy. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable. May I ask you something?”
“Of course, but ask it in the shower because we need to clean you and believe it or not we can all fit in this tub.”
“Harrington, if we wanted to shower with me all you had to do was ask.” You laugh at Eddie’s joke as you grab his hand and tug him off the couch as you follow the other man to the bathroom.
“What did you want to ask, honey?”
A small smile paints your lips as you watch them try to figure out how to get you out of your outfit before finally just grabbing the bottom and pulling it over your head.
“Does it bother you that your parents didn’t show up today?”
“No.”
“Not even your mom? She didn’t really have a reason to not—”
“Yes, she did. She does whatever my father tells her to.”, he snapped.
You nodded as you pushed your back into Eddie’s chest.
“Steve, she was just asking because she cares. It’s a little weird I know. Having a woman in our lives who actually gives a damn.”
He sighs as he guides you under the water. “No, not even my mom. Y/N, kind of like Munson here, my parents stopped parenting pretty early on. Honestly, I’m used to it by now. I know that sounds harsh but it’s true. I think it would have angered me if they had shown up like they helped me accomplish something.”
Your hands reach out to gently cup his face. “I just don’t want you to feel like…no one was proud of you.”
He softly smiles before kissing your forehead. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“I would have liked for your dad to be there if only to see what her dad did to his face.”
The three of you laugh as the begin to clean your body.
############
Eddie has his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you two watch an action movie on tv.
“I could be a spy.”
“No, you couldn’t! Everything about you is so loud.”, you giggle.
“Oh, come on! I can totally be suave like James Bond.”
“Yeah, you could.”
“You can be my Money Penny.”
Steve nonchalantly exits the bedroom and grabs a banana from the counter, leaning his back against it as he eats. The two of you continue to stare ahead but the man can still see the grins on your faces that you both are trying to hide.
“Ok. Go ahead. I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
“Are you ready for your first day, sailor?” Eddie’s toothy grin grows when you try to stifle your laugh.
“Don’t listen to him, Daddy. I think you look sexy.”
“Yeah, I mean way those little blue shorts accentuate your knees, man.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”, Steve smirks as he throws away his peel and saunters over to you to give you a kiss before lightly pushing his friend’s head. “I’ll see you two later.”
“We definitely need to get you one of those.”, Eddie chuckles as the other man leaves and you playfully shove his chest.
#############
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Learning to Love 1
(Part 1, Part 2...)
This fic was supposed to be a pinch but in the end wasn't needed anymore so it collected dust in my Scrivener’s file for a few months.
A HUGE thank you to @mystrade-lecroft that was my beta ages ago!
Rating: Mature
Relationship: Steve /Billy
Tags: enemies to lovers, no upside down
Words: 1117
Billy hasn't talked to Steve since the fight they had at Byers’ house, when he found his little step-sister alone in a stranger's house with the other two boys and Harrington.
There was a reason they were all there. Lucas and Max had gone on a little nerd date and the kid's bicycle got a flat tire so he called his best friend, Dustin, who called his best friend, Harrington, who picked them up with his car and drove them to the Byers’ to fix the bicycle.
Billy knows Max and he knows she may have gone with Lucas even if she was grounded just to piss him off, but his father wasn't going to listen to any kind of excuses so Billy had to defend Max's honor, she was his sister after all. It doesn't matter if they don't share the same blood, she is family now, and even if most of the time Billy can’t stand her, he was not going to let anyone put his dirty paws on her, ok?
That’s why he got so mad at Harrington when he lied to him about his sister. Pretending she wasn’t there when he could see her staring at him from the window.
They fought hard, and Billy took Harrington by surprise, crashing a plate on the side of his head and punching him in the face until he laid on the ground unconscious. Then he took Max's arm, who was still screaming something about him being crazy or some shit like that and dragged her to the car.
"Never do something like that again, are we clear?" He hissed in her face. And since that day she didn't, or at least if she did, she became sneakier. Billy doesn’t really care, the important thing is that his father is satisfied, and if Neil Hargrove is happy everyone at home is happy.
Does Billy feel guilty about punching Harrington? Maybe. But he did what had to be done and now the rich boy is keeping his distance from him and his step-sister, which is good.
Nobody knows exactly what happened, everyone assumed that they had a fight about some girl and even if the chief of police insisted, Harrington didn't file a report against him. Billy should be grateful, a report on his record would not look good, but he wasn't wrong assuming that the pretty boy was going to do something inappropriate with his sister, well, step-sister. After all, he is the one who took her to that house in the middle of nowhere when he could have just driven her back home. It doesn't matter that Max probably begged the high school boy not to, Steve should have known better and drove her home the same.
Billy takes his seat at the back of the class. Hagan on his right is complaining about something Carol did during the weekend when the teacher gets in the classroom and announces that she is going to give them a pop quiz. Everyone starts to complain loudly, while the woman gives them the tests telling them that they should already know the answers and that the test is to help them get prepared before the final test.
Billy doesn't complain, he was always one of the best students in every school he attended so he is not worried at all. He quickly fills the test and gives it back to the teacher who smiles at him and tells him that he can go out to grab a smoke if he wants, but he has to get back before the class ends because she wants to talk to him.
The blond guy raises an eyebrow, confused, he knows he did well on the test, why did she ask him to get back to class?
"Nothing to worry about." She keeps smiling and Billy nods, going outside, the cigarette in his mouth as soon as the door closes behind him. The blond boy loves smoking, he loves everything about smoking; he loves the rituality of taking the cigarette, putting it in his mouth, taking the lighters, and inhaling.
The first drag of smoke immediately calms him down. It doesn't matter if he is fidgeting, or anxious, or scared, when he inhales the world stops spinning and all his worries and insecurities disappear.
Billy stares at the parking lot, wondering how he ended up in a shit place like Hawkins, where the more exciting thing to do is go to the quarry, stare at the cliff, and wonder if to jump or not.
After smoking the cigarette to the filter, Billy gets back to class. There are just a few students left and Harrington is among them, still sitting at his desk with a big frown biting his pen anxiously.
"Time is up. Please give me your tests."
Harrington sighs, reads the questions one last time, and gives the test back to the teacher.
"Could you wait for a moment, Steve?"
The boy shrugs, his arms crossed in front of him to protect him from whatever the teacher is going to say to him.
When the teacher has collected everyone's assignment the only two students in the class are Billy and Steve.
"So, Steve, I know you are having some difficulties this year, but even if you left the basketball team to concentrate on your studies, I must say that it's not enough. I think you might take advantage of some tutoring. And I think that you and Billy could be a good match. So I wanted to suggest to Billy to tutor you to see if this can help your grades, what do you say?"
The chestnut-haired boy glares at the other guy "I'm sorry Mrs. Johnson but Billy and I... we can't study together."
"I'm not saying that you have to become best friends, but Billy is the class's best student and I'm sure he could help you. And some tutoring would be good for you, Billy. You are really intelligent but your behavior is a little bit... explosive."
The blond-haired guy nods, he knows that his behavior is not the best and that tutoring someone would definitely look good on his college application. But he also knows that he can't stay in the same room as Harrington, it would be like putting two lions in the same cage.
"Overcoming your differences could benefit both of you.” Mrs. Johnson insists “Would you like to give it a try?"
Steve shrugs and glares at Billy, "Whatever he says."
If Harrington thinks that he is too coward to accept the challenge he is fucking wrong. "At your place, tonight, after basketball practice." It sounds like a threat, and maybe it is.
#stranger things fanfic#steve x billy#harringrove#medusapelagia#Billy Hargrove#Steve Harrington#Harringrove#Billy x Steve#Stranger Things Fanfiction#Harringrove fic#medusapelagia fanfic#my fanfic#learning to love
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Red Solo Cup | S.H.
Summary: in which someone tries to make a pass at reader and steve defends them.
Warnings: sexual assault, fighting
Word Count: 1.5k
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Ever since you started dating Steve Harrington, the two of you stopped going to parties. It wasn't a conscious decision, necessarily; it sort of happened naturally. Not only was there always something going on, but it just wasn't your scene anymore. Once upon a time you would indulge in parties every weekend, but you've since realized that life has a tendency to get in the way.
Fortunately for you and Steve, the Upside Down and other mysteries of Hawkins, Indiana had seemingly decided to take the weekend off. The two of you were looking for something to do, but the last thing you had expected was a party.
You laughed it off when Steve had suggested the idea, and watched as his face fell into a joking expression and his head tilted at you.
"C'mon, it'll be fun," Steve expressed, resting a hand on your elbow.
The two of you stood outside of Family Video, as Steve had just completed his shift. He was still clad in his uniform, a green vest that displayed the store's name.
"Something tells me it won't," you spoke sternly.
Although partying used to be a constant for you, you had grown accustomed to life without it. The thought of returning to another humid basement filled with sweaty, hormonal teenagers was enough to send a shiver down your spine.
"Please?" Steve whined, and you giggled under your breath at his childishness. "If you hate it after, let's say twenty minutes, then we'll go home and watch a movie."
You let Steve's words dangle in the humid, Indiana air for a few moments, despite having made up your mind. You realized then that you would probably do anything that Steve asked you to do; you simply wanted to make him happy.
"Fine, but I'm picking the movie."
-----
Flashing lights and silhouettes came from the windows of the house, as you and Steve made your descent. The party was being held by a college student a year older than Steve; someone he knew from high school. You weren't sure what to expect, or if you would know anyone.
Your suspicions were eased when Nancy and Jonathan met you at the front door. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding before smiling at them.
"Hey, you two!" Nancy beamed.
Steve and Jonathan fell into a polite conversation, and you and Nancy continued chatting with one another.
"I'm so glad you guys could make it. We deserve some sense of normalcy," Nancy smiled at you.
"Thanks, Nance. It feels so weird to be here," you muttered, a nervous smile on your face.
"Trust me, once you get a drink in you, you'll feel better. Here," Nancy handed you a red solo cup and gestured towards the kitchen to the right.
Your gaze wandered to where Steve was, only to see that he had begun talking with a group of guys. You presumed they were old friends from high school.
Your gaze returned to Nancy, nodding at her advice, before making your way to the kitchen.
Finding the keg, you pumped it and released a steady flow of beer into your cup. You sipped, wincing at the bitter taste and sticking your tongue out. It's really been a while, huh? you thought to yourself, surveying the kitchen.
There was a couple manhandling each other in the corner, a guy who looked like he was either about to pass out or throw up, and another guy standing near the refrigerator. Blood pulsated in your head upon the realization that the guy by the fridge was looking at you. His gaze traveled up and down your form, not very subtly.
He licked his lips slightly before approaching you, leaning his weight on the counter beside you.
"Hey there. How are you?"
Your brows furrowed at his determination, before taking another sip of your beer.
"I am fine," you spoke, punctuating each word.
"Oh, I know you're fine, baby, but how's your night goin'?"
You scoffed at his poor attempt at a pick up line, before making a move to exit the kitchen.
"Hey, where ya goin'?" The guy grabbed your arm then, and you yanked it away before looking at him angrily.
"Do not touch me."
He put his hands up in feign defense before grinning at you. You blanched, disgusted by his cool attitude.
"You don't have to be like that, I'm just trying to get to know you."
"What makes you think I want to get to know you?"
You knew you were inching towards irate, but you couldn't help it. This seemed to happen at every single party when you were a frequent flier. You wondered now how you managed to continue attending them.
The man's vision turned darker then, his mouth dropping it's grin and forming a straight line. He grabbed for your arm, and pulled you into him. You let out a grunt at the impact before struggling against him.
"Why do you have to be such a bitch, huh?!" He yelled at you, his hand groping you. You whimpered in response, unable to move.
"Excuse me, what the fuck did you just say? Let go of her, asshole!"
Steve. Thank god.
Steve's strength worked to his advantage as he managed to maneuver himself between you and the drunk man. He pulled the man's collar up, and threw him against the refrigerator.
"Hey, ease up man! I didn't do anything!" The drunk guy protested, and you scoffed, straightening your dress.
"Like hell you didn't do anything! I come in here and see your hand on my girlfriend's ass!" Steve pushed him against the refrigerator once again at the memory.
You could tell Steve was becoming increasingly angry, and you realized you did not want to spend your evening bandaging bloody knuckles.
"Steve," you hollered, placing a hand on his bicep. "It's not worth it."
Steve looked at you, his eyes wide and exasperated. You knew that if it was up to him, he would land more than a few punches on the face of any guy who dared to touch you inappropriately.
"Yeah, listen to your little bitch!"
Goddamnit. If there was any whisper of a chance of getting Steve to release the man so the two of you could just leave, it was gone now.
You watched in slow motion as Steve's fist drew backwards before slamming into the guy's cheekbone. A second punch drew blood from the man's nose and lip. Steve didn't get a chance to throw a third punch.
"Steve!" You yelled, grabbing his arm midair.
He looked at you; his eyes seemed to be engulfed with an emotion you'd never seen, and it scared you.
Steve seemed to sense your fear, and his resolve crumbled at the thought. He looked between his fist and the bloody man on the floor, before realizing that he'd done enough damage.
Steve stood, another flash of anger traveling across his features before directing his voice to the bloody mess on the floor.
"Don't you ever touch her again."
He turned to you then, his palms holding either side of your face. He scanned your features, attempting to locate any sign of harm.
"Are you okay?"
You nodded, tears filling your eyes and threatening to spill over onto your flushed and freckled cheeks. Now that the situation had calmed down, the guise that concealed your frightened self began to collapse.
Steve's heart wrenched at the sight, and he pulled you into him in one swift motion. His hand cradled the back of you head and he placed a kiss atop it.
If people hadn't already formed a crowd around you, they certainly were now, at the sight of the bloody boy on the floor. Steve took notice and held a hand around your waist.
"Let's get out you out of here."
Once the two of you were outside, Steve turned to you and rubbed his calloused thumbs under your eyes, capturing your salty tears.
"I'm so sorry I made you come to this. You were right."
You shook your head, laughing grimly through the thickness of your tears.
"You couldn't have known that a disgusting guy would grope me. Although I should've known, it’s happened before.”
You saw Steve's jaw visibly tense at your remark, before shaking his head and resting his forehead against yours.
"Don't even think any of that was your fault, because it wasn't."
You merely gave Steve a watery smile, nuzzling further into him.
"Do you want to go home now?" He asked you, looking into your eyes, your foreheads still connected.
Despite the tears that ran down your face, you smirked at him.
"As long as we can watch the cheesiest rom-com in existence."
Steve's mouth lifted into a small smirk, before he let out a chuckle. He pulled away from you, nodding.
"You've got yourself a deal."
-----
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#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction fluff#steve harrington hurt/comfort#steve harrington x you
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superfreaky (steve harrington x fem!reader)
Summary: [AU inspired by Freaky (2020); modern body-swap-with-a-slasher AU] The Hawkins Hacker has been terrorizing your town for years now. What happens when he digs his hooks into you is surprising. It's shocking. It's downright superfreaky.
Word Count: ~7.3k
Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, violence, grief, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of death and serial killers/slashers. all the characters are at least 18 in this (and Steve is the same age as the others). There's no descriptors of the reader except when she and Henry Creel swap bodies (then, you're Jamie Campbell Bower). Also Officer Callahan is your stepbrother in this.
a/n: this is a halloween fic. I'm aware that it's mid-November and everyone on this website has moved onto winter/holiday fics. I'm late! I'm sorry! Blame depression/personal life weirdness/my horoscope.
🔪🔪🔪
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 12th, 2023
Your life kind of sucks.
Just a little.
Currently, you’re dressed in a godawful tiger suit on a Thursday night, shaking your clip-on tiger tail like there’s no tomorrow. You don’t want to be here, but extracurriculars look great on college applications. If you want to get far, far away from Hawkins, Indiana after graduation, this is the kind of shit you have to do to be impressive on paper.
Plus, someone must be the brave soul that dons the Hawkins High school mascot costume on the sidelines of basketball games. The brave soul that gets soda cans chucked at your head by Billy Hargrove.
You turn and scowl when you feel the liquid splash across your back—not that Billy can see through your stitched-on tiger expression.
He and his buddies laugh and laugh, until team captain Steve Harrington chews them out for being assholes. You can’t help it—you inwardly swoon at the sight of him defending your honor. With that floppy hair and those gorgeous eyes and…
You snap yourself out of your wild, romantically charged fantasies about said basketball player when he jogs his way toward you.
“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” he asks quietly. You lift your mascot head and give him a small smile.
“I’m good,” you say. You shrug. “I’m used to it.”
Steve sighs and shakes his head.
“I’m really sorry. I told Hargrove to cut it out when you threw the nachos last week, but he just doesn’t know when to quit.”
The Tiger cheerleaders begin the school fight song.
“I’ve gotta get back into it,” you say. “But, um, thanks.”
“Anytime,” Steve says. He shoots you a smile before jogging back to his teammates. The timeout is over, and he steps back onto the court.
As you flail around next to the cheerleaders, the Tigers sink a three-pointer thanks to Steve and win the game.
Post-game, you shuffle into the parking lot with your best friends Robin Buckley and Jonathan Byers by your side. Jonathan works for the school paper and photographs the games while his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, interviews players and attendees on the sidelines. Robin is in band and plays the trumpet. (Sometimes, you wish you’d followed their extracurricular pathways instead of going the mascot route.)
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Robin points out, sensing your disdain as you glare at the tiger head in your hands and the oversize, fuzzy orange slippers adorning your feet.
“I do!” you say. “It’s senior year, fall semester. I can’t flake now. It’ll look bad on my applications.”
“You and those applications,” Jonathan says with a shake of his head. “You’ve been worrying about them since we were freshmen.”
“Obviously! They’re my ticket out of this town. It’s not safe here anymore.”
Robin and Jonathan share a look. They know what you’re referring to: the Hawkins Hacker.
The Hacker is the town's own slasher. He claimed victims every year around homecoming for years and years, until 2016, when he suddenly stopped. However, just last night he killed again. The whole town—including your stepbrother Phil, who’s a cop—are on edge.
“Do you need a ride home?” Jonathan asks, spinning his car keys in his hand.
“No, it’s okay,” you say. “My stepmom’s on her way. And there are plenty of people around. I’m totally safe!”
Famous last words.
Literally. (Almost.)
“You sure?” Robin questions. “Because he’s taking me and Nancy home too, but he’s got an extra seat!”
“I’m good,” you say. You hold up your cell phone. “She texted me an hour ago to say she’d get me on time. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”
Your friends look a little worried, but you wave them off. Game attendees meander out of the school and head to their cars. It’s a sea of people. You’re fine.
However, the minutes tick by, and the crowd thins out. You watch the away team hop a school bus and zip back to their hometown. You feel the temperature of your tiger suit inch up a few degrees when you see Steve wander to his BMW with a couple teammates in tow.
It’s considerably quieter than it was when you first left the game. You text your stepmom LeAnn once, twice. Then you call her once, twice, three times. A third text, a fourth call. Nothing. Radio silence.
By now, it’s dead quiet. Everyone is gone. You feel an icy chill zip down your spine, like you’re being watched…
You miss your father. He died about a year ago, and he was always on time.
You startle when the phone in your hand buzzes. It’s your stepbrother Phil.
“Hey!” you say. “Where’s LeAnn?”
“Passed out again,” Phil says with a beleaguered sigh. “Where are you? Did Jonathan give you a ride home?”
“No, I told him your mom was coming to get me,” you say. “Can you—”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
You pull the phone away from your ear and groan. It’s dead. Just great.
A streetlight across the parking lot flickers. When your eyes adjust, your heart drops through your stupid mascot feet and to the center of the earth: there’s a man watching you.
You can’t tell, but it looks like he’s wearing a mask. You gulp, panic stretching itself through every fiber of your being.
“Please don’t be the Hawkins Hacker,” you mumble to yourself. “Please don’t be the Hacker. Please don’t be the Hacker.”
The Man continues to stare. Something glints in his hand. It frightens you.
“My stepbrother is on his way!” you yell, hoping to scare him off. “He’s a cop. With a gun.”
That doesn’t seem to bother the man at all. In fact, you see him walk toward you—a slow, Michael-Meyers-esque stride that has you shrieking in fear and stumbling to the school doors.
You yank at them to no avail. You don’t bother looking back and instead run around the school building to the football field. Panting from exertion and sheer fear, you duck under the bleachers and hide behind a big banner.
You slap a hand over your mouth to quiet your panicked whimpers. Why oh why did you trust LeAnn to get you on time, when every night for the past month she’s drank a whole bottle of chardonnay at 6 p.m. and passed out? Why didn’t you go with Jonathan when he offered? Hell, why didn’t you ask Steve for a ride? He’s a nice guy! He would’ve done it!
Now, you’re hiding from a slasher in a stupid rubber gray mask. And if you die and come back as a ghost, you’ll be wearing the Hawkins High mascot suit for all eternity.
You watch the Hackers’ feet as he stands in front of the bleachers and listen as he steps on them. He seems to think you’ve left, and you hear him wander off.
Or, so you think. Actually, he sneaks up behind you and grabs your leg, yanking you out from your hiding place.
You scream and kick at him, hitting him right in the nose and giving you the chance to run.
You don’t get far, though. He tackles you somewhere around the fifty-yard line.
“No! No!” you scream as he raises the knife above you. The knife has a spider carved in the handle with red ruby eyes. “Please! No!”
You push at him, knocking his mask off. His face is gaunt: all sallow cheekbones and purple under-eye bags. His eyes are a dull, washed-out blue, and his blonde hair is scraggly and unwashed.
You hate that his face is the last face you’ll ever see.
He plunges the dagger into your shoulder just a few inches shy of your heart and you scream in pain, the bloodcurdling sound echoing across the football field. The Hacker hisses in pain and drops the knife. He touches his shoulder and looks angry at the sight of blood on his fingertips.
His blood. From the wound that appeared on his shoulder after he stabbed you in the same spot.
Bang! Bang!
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Phil roars from across the football stadium, gun raised in the air.
The Hacker stumbles to his feet and ambles off. Still prone on the ground, you turn on your stomach and watch him go, shocked at what you witnessed. How did he get stabbed?
You’re in so much shock, you don’t even realize that Phil is by your side until he gently helps you sit up.
“You’re okay!” he says, voice tinged with an urgency you’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”
“It hurt him too,” you mutter, a bit delirious. “It hurt him too!”
“Try to stay calm, okay?” Phil says. “You’re in shock. I got you, Y/N.”
You hear him bark into his radio: “This is Officer Callahan! Send an RA unit to the Hawkins High football field! My stepsisters’ been stabbed!”
The rest of your evening is a blur. You get patched up by paramedics and then taken to the police station to give a statement.
LeAnn arrives as you’re sitting with the sketch artist, crying and screaming and apologizing a million times. You forgive her (even though you aren’t sure you want to), and later that night, you hear Phil chewing her out for drinking and forgetting you again.
“She could’ve died, Mom!” you hear him yell as you lie in bed and try to sleep. “If I had been just a minute too late, we would’ve lost her and Allen in the span of 11 months!”
“I’m sorry!” LeAnn sobs. “I just had one glass—”
“One glass, Mom?! Try the whole bottle!”
Despite your anger at her, your heart breaks for LeAnn. You know your dad’s death has been hard on her. She hasn’t been doing too well since he passed, but sometimes you wish she’d realize you weren’t doing that great either. Phil tries to comfort you both, but he’s so busy with work, his pep talks are usually thirty seconds long between bites of a bagel before he’s rushing off to save Hawkins again.
Your phone blows up with texts and DMs. Somehow, the kids at school found out what happened and won’t stop messaging you for details on your encounter with the Hacker. You can’t deal with it. Except, there are some messages that you do respond to:
---
Text Thread with BOBBIN and JONNY B GOOD
BOBBIN: Oh my God!!! Y/N are you okay??? Please text back!!!
JONNY B GOOD: We saw what happened on the news. Please text us when you have a chance. We’re worried about you and thinking of you rn.
BOBBIN: WE’RE FREAKING OUT!!! ARE YOU OKAY???
JONNY B GOOD: Robin, just chill. She’s probably resting.
BOBBIN: Please don’t die and leave me alone to third wheel Nancy and Jonathan!!
JONNY B GOOD: Wooooow.
YOU: Wow is right. I got stabbed and those are your priorities?
BOBBIN: SHE LIVES!!!! YEAHHHHHHH!!!
YOU: Yep, I’m alive. I’m really sorry but I feel like shit. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?
JONNY B GOOD: Of course. We’re here when you need us.
BOBBIN: WE LOVE YOU <3
YOU: <3
---
DMs from steve.anthony.h83
STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Hey Y/N I saw the news I rly hope ur OK
YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Hi Steve, thank you for reaching out. It means a lot to me. I’m not feeling too good right now.
STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Im sry to here that that sux 😞😢💔
---
God, even his text message typos and cheesy emoji usage are endearing. You’re in too deep with this crush.
---
YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Yeah. But I think I’ll be okay.
STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Anything I can do 2 help? Maybe I can get u smtg, wats ur fav candy?
YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Oh, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to do that!
STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): I want too 😃 do u like nougat
YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): I love nougat!
STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Perfect 😃 Ill bring u sum tmrw after school 🍫
YOU (y/n.y/l/n86): Thank you, Steve ❤️
STEVE (steve.anthony.h83): Feel better Y/N 😃😃
You go to sleep, shaken up but in slightly higher spirits thanks to your conversation with Steve.
🔪🔪🔪
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 13th, 2023
You blink awake hours later, startled at the sight around you.
You aren’t in your room. You’re lying on a mattress on a concrete floor. The room around you is full of weird stuff: grandfather clocks, paintings upon paintings of black widow spiders, and mannequins with nails in their faces like Pinhead.
“What the hell!” you say. You gasp and clutch your neck. “Why is my voice so deep?!”
You stagger to your feet and look around the creepy space. Why are you further from the floor than usual? In the corner, you see a mirror half-covered with a sheet. You yank it off and gasp.
“AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER!” you scream.
The Hacker screams as well. You reach your hand toward the glass—and the Hacker reaches his hand toward it as well. You pull it away and so does he.
The you in the reflection is the Hacker. Holy shit.
You realize where you are: the old mill. Phil told you to stay away from this place because it’s where drug deals go down, and where Eleanor Gillespie got attacked by birds that one time.
You rush away before you can freak out too much. You head downtown, mind swirling.
This must just be a nightmare. Right? A really, really realistic, terrifying lucid dream.
But when you hit your head on a tree branch (because you’re way, way taller than you used to be) and it actually hurts, you realize it’s not a dream. You’re really the Hawkins Hacker. Somehow, you’ve swapped bodies with a homicidal maniac.
You need to find Phil. He’s been your stepbrother for a decade now and you trust him more than anyone else. He might be able to know what to do—or just be a shoulder to cry on.
You pass an electronics store, and your heart sinks when you see your face—the Hackers’ face—on TV.
“The Hawkins Hacker has been identified as Henry Creel,” the news anchor says, showing a photo of the face that you are unfortunately saddled with now. “He’s most known for killing his mother, father, and sister as a teenager—and also for driving a Jeep Wrangler through a Dairy Queen drive-through window without a license.”
“Hey!” someone shouts nearby, having connected the dots. “You’re the killer guy from TV!”
You don’t even stop to see who’s yelling at you before you run as fast as you can, ducking through alleyways to lose whoever’s chasing you.
You can’t go to the police station now that your face is plastered all over the news and social media. But you need an ally, or allies.
Besides Phil, the people you trust the most are Robin and Jonathan. You sneak into Hawkins High through the gymnasium doors, wishing you had your mascot head to hide under. Then, you take a quick shower in the locker rooms and hide until class change is done.
You slink through the empty hallways and make it to the school’s auditorium. That’s where you, Robin, and Jonathan spend study hall every day.
You open the door to the theater as quiet as a mouse, hiding in the wings for a moment when you overhear them talking about you.
“I hope Y/N’s doing okay,” Robin says with a sigh. She takes a bite of an apple and says through chews, “Why did she blow us off earlier?”
“Give her a break, Rob,” Jonathan says. “She’s probably really shaken up. But it is weird that she even came to school anyway. I wonder—”
“Guys!” you say, stepping onto the stage. “It’s me! Don’t freak out.”
They immediately freak out.
“AHHHHH!!! THE HACKER!!!” Robin screams. She chucks an apple core at your head and it bounces between your eyes. You stumble back and groan.
“COME ON!” Jonathan says, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from your, fear flashing in both of their eyes.
“Wait!” you shout. “Come back!”
You follow them as they run through the hallways and end up in the school cafeteria’s kitchen. A lunch lady shrieks and runs out when she sees you.
“Stop!” you call, following Robin and Jonathan to the back room. “Wait! Please just hear me out.”
Jonathan snatches up a soup ladle and hits you in the spine with it.
“ARGH! Dude, stop!”
Robin grabs a tray of mozzarella sticks and lifts it above her head. The sticks go flying when she whacks you in the head. Repeatedly.
Angry that they won’t stop hitting you, you yank the tray out of Robin’s hand and toss it away. Your newfound strength the body you’ve found yourself in possesses surprises you. The old you would’ve grappled with Robin a lot longer before getting the tray from her, if you even got it at all.
Robin tries to jump on your back piggyback-style to tackle you to the ground, and you elbow her in the stomach.
“Cut that out!” you bark as she wheezes.
Jonathan hits you again with the ladle and you shove his shoulder, a bit too hard. He falls on his butt and winces.
“Enough!” you say. “We’ve hit each other over and over. Can we agree we’re all tired and end this?!”
“No!” Jonathan says, pulling himself back to his feet by gripping a countertop. “You attacked our friend and now you’re attacking us!”
“I’m not attacking you!” you say. “I’m trying to get you to listen. I am not Henry Creel. I am not the Hawkins Hacker. I’M Y/N! YOUR FRIEND Y/N Y/L/N!”
“As if!” Robin scoffs. “I’m calling 911.”
You snatch the phone from her hands and hold it high above your head. She’s tall, but not tall enough to reach it thanks to your longer arms.
“I promise!” you beg, holding your other arm up in surrender. “It’s me. It’s Y/N!”
“Yeah, right!” Jonathan says darkly. He picks up the ladle again, wielding it like a lethal weapon. “Tell us something only Y/N would know or we’re going to the cops.”
“What’s Y/N’s favorite movie?” Robin asks, eyes narrowed.
“I tell everyone it’s Casablanca but it’s The Muppets Take Manhattan!”
“Favorite candy?” Jonathan demands.
“Three Musketeers because I feel guilty that everyone shits on nougat when it’s really not that bad!”
“Who’s Y/N’s biggest crush?” Robin asks.
The face that’s not yours blushes deeply.
“Duh,” you say. “It’s Steve the Hair Harrington.”
Jonathan and Robin share a look. A sense of realization flashes on their faces.
“Handshake?” you offer. You hand Robin her phone back and hold out your hands—or, Henry Creel’s hands—and wait.
Robin and Jonathan slap you five, before the three of you complete the intricate handshake you made up in seventh grade.
“Holy shit!” Robin shrieks, eyes shining. “You’re really Y/N!”
She pulls you and Jonathan in for a group hug and you laugh.
“Oh, thank god,” you say. “If you didn’t believe me, I don’t know what I’d—"
“Hold on,” Jonathan says, pulling out of the hug. “If you’re actually Y/N, that means the Hawkins Hacker is going around school wearing your face!”
“Oh damn,” Robin says. “Is that why you look hot today?”
“What do you mean I look hot?” you say, trying not to take offense to the implication that you don’t look hot every day.
Robin opens Instagram and shows you a photo posted to the student-run Hawkins High Gossip Instagram page. It’s a blurry photo of you (or Henry Creel in your body) walking in the hall past Billy and his asshole friends, who are checking you out. Instead of your usual mousy wardrobe of flowy skirts and cardigans, you’re wearing a tight black tank top, a red leather jacket, and bright red lipstick.
“Hot damn!” you blurt out. “I do look hot! Shit, have I hurt anyone? Or, has he hurt anyone?”
Jonathan grimaces.
“Tommy H. was found unconscious in the chem lab,” he says. “He was mostly fine, except his eyebrows were burned clean off…”
“But if fake-you did that,” Robin says quickly, “you aren’t liable because you weren’t in control of your body!”
“I don’t even know how we body-swapped in the first place!” you lament. “How do I get control of my body back?!”
“Let’s think about this,” Jonathan says. “Maybe it was some kind…spell? Or enchantment?”
“Enchantment?!” you snap. “Dude, be for real!”
“Wait,” Robin says, eyes shining. “I heard about this!”
She opened the internet app on her phone and went to www,theweeklywatcher,com/body-swap.
“No fucking way,” you say. “The Weekly Watcher is not a refutable source!”
“Why not?!” she says, scrolling ferociously until— “Ah! Found it.”
She shows you an article about the mythology of body swapping. At first, you roll your eyes, but then—
“That knife!” you gasp. “That’s the knife he had!”
You point to the photo, featuring the ruby-eyed spider in the knife handle.
“According to this,” Jonathan says, “that knife is an artifact that was used in ancient rituals."
“If you’re struck with the blade when the clock strikes midnight,” Robin reads, “you and your attacker switch places. And you have 24 hours to stab him and switch back.”
“No, no, no!” you groan. “That means we only have 12 hours left!”
“That’s plenty of time,” Jonathan says. “Where’s the knife? You have it, right?”
“No!” you say. “Phil took it as evidence.”
“So we’ll just steal it from the police station,” Robin says, as if it’s easy and obvious.
“Oh, sure,” you lament. “We’ll just waltz into the police station while I have the face and body of a mass murderer and steal evidence. Easy-peasy!”
“We’ll figure something out,” Jonathan says. “Come on.”
The three of you head toward the exit and end up walking past the woodshop classroom. You do a double-take and watch yourself enter the hallway. Or, you watch the Hawkins Hacker parade around as you.
“Hey, stop!” you shout at Henry Creel. He pauses and turns. A shiver runs down your spine at the dark, evil look gracing your features. Features you’ve seen your whole life, features you’ve struggled to like after years of taunting and bullying. Now, they’re marred with the evil spirit of the Hawkins Hacker.
Yet, goddamn. You look hot with red lipstick. Who knew slashers had good fashion sense?
“Don’t try to run,” Jonathan says, the waver in his voice indicating that his bravery is false. “We’ve got you cornered.”
The Hacker suddenly changes expressions. Instead of a nasty glare, he opens his eyes wide, covers his cheeks with his hands, and shrieks: “AHHHH! IT’S THE HAWKINS HACKER! GET HIM!”
A couple cops run around the corner of the hall and you curse, rushing toward a side door with Robin and Jonathan in tow.
“GET YOUR KEYS!” you yell. “We have to get out of here or I’m headed to jail forever!”
Jonathan struggles to start his car, but he peels away just before the cops can stop you all. After your first-ever police chase, you three lose your tail in the parking lot of the big-box store LeAnn works at.
You hide out in a changing room while Jonathan and Robin find you a disguise—a plastic Halloween mask of Bill Clinton’s face.
“I can’t see or breathe in this thing,” you grumble as your friends lead you back to the car.
“If you get arrested,” Robin points out, “you won’t be able to switch back.”
You bite your tongue from any further complaints, too worried about just that.
“So, what’s the plan?” Jonathan asks, once you all are back in his car. “How can we get the knife?”
“About that,” Robin says. “I think we need to bring in your stepbrother.”
“If Phil doesn't believe us, we're in big trouble!” you protest.
“He’s an ally!” Robin shoots back. “And we need one if we’re going to…oh shit.”
She holds up her phone screen for you and Jonathan to see. You squint through the eye holes of your uncomfortable mask and gasp when you realize what’s going on.
“Fuck!” you groan. “What the hell is he doing?!”
It’s another post from the school gossip Insta. The Hawkins Hacker is schmoozing with Billy and his clique of jerks at the local indoor mini-golf place. You watch in the video as he leans into Billy’s ear and whispers something before sauntering off.
The caption of the post says, “OMG is Y/N Y/L/N like, hot now?!”
“I resent this!” you snap. “Why is everyone under the impression that I’m not hot all the time?!”
“No, no, no!” Jonathan gasps. “Look!”
At the tail end of the video, you see Nancy and Steve follow Henry Creel into the glow-in-the-dark golf course.
“They’re going to get killed!” he says, turning the ignition in his car with shaking hands and reversing haphazardly, almost taking out a mulberry bush as he speeds toward the golf place. “Robin, call Nancy now.”
“She’s not picking up!” Robin says, phone to her ear. “I’ll text!”
Your stomach churns with anxiety. If the Hacker kills Nancy and Steve while he’s in your body and you switch back, you’ll feel guilty forever. You’ll also go to jail. But if you don’t switch back, you’ll go to jail as Henry! This is all too much.
You’re certain the pale face that doesn’t belong to you is green right now as Jonathan drives like a racecar driver to save his girlfriend and your crush from “your” wrath.
🔪🔪🔪
Steve’s not sure what’s gotten into you today.
First, you showed up to school. That was surprising after your attack.
“Hey!” he had said when you walked into woodshop class. “How you feeling?”
You hadn’t responded, but you had looked quite intrigued when he accidentally cut his finger working on his birdhouse.
“Ah, shit,” he’d grumbled. “Do you have a—”
You leaned over and licked the blood clean off his finger. It startled him—and annoyed him when that freak Eddie Munson mumbled, “Whoa, that’s hot,” from across the worktable.
Steve’s cheeks glowed rosy red, flustered at your boldness. But you’d left class before he could do or say anything about it (or give you the candy he brought for you).
And now, after school, you’re standing with Billy and whispering salacious things into his ear. Since when do you like Billy? Billy, the guy that throws things at you? Billy, the guy that wrote “Y/N Y/L/N is an ugly stupid bitch” on the bathroom stalls? Billy, the guy that didn’t give you the time of day until you dressed differently?!
Why doesn’t she like me?! Steve thought, trying to look unaffected as you continued flirting with Billy. He fails, the wrinkle between his brows getting deeper as you continue talking to Billy in a low voice.
“Steve,” Nancy says urgently, rushing up to him. “We need to talk.”
“Can it wait?” Steve says. He crosses his arms. “I don’t want to do anything right now except sulk.”
“Something’s really, really wrong,” Nancy continues, ignoring Steve’s pity party. “Jonathan’s MIA and isn’t messaging me back. And neither is Robin. And Carol claims she saw them earlier get in Jonathan’s car with a tall, blond weirdo.”
“So, maybe they have a new friend,” Steve says. He squeezes the handle of his mini-golf putter and watches you walk toward the glow-in-the-dark course. “I need to go talk to Y/N.”
“No!” Nancy hisses, following him as they cut through the crowds. She tucks her phone deep in her purse. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. The Hawkins Hacker is a tall, blond weirdo. Carol didn’t get a good look, but—”
“But you think your boyfriend and Robin are rubbing elbows with a killer? Nance, that’s bullshit.”
“It’s not!” she snaps. “I think that, somehow, that tall blond weirdo is actually Y/N and that girl that you’re going to go talk to is the Hacker.”
“That makes no goddamn sense,” Steve says. “Body-swapping isn’t possible.”
“Just listen to me! I was reading an article in The Weekly Watcher…”
Nancy follows Steve into the course, whispering her findings and bringing up Y/N’s odd behavior as they navigate the dark room lit up with black lights.
The more he listens, the more it makes sense. You’re not acting like yourself. But it still seems too far-fetched.
“I don’t know, Nance,” Steve says, scanning the room for you. “I think you need to stop listening to Robin so much.”
Swish! The beaded curtain leading into the next section of the course rattles as Henry Creel barrels through.
“Nancy! Steve!” he yells. “Watch out!”
Henry pushes them to the side and grabs Y/N’s hand—huh, when did you sneak up behind Steve and Nancy? The Hacker twists your wrist and you cry out.
“Y/N!” Steve shouts, rushing forward to protect you. Before he can, Jonathan and Robin grab his arms.
“No, no, let them fight!” Robin says.
“Let go of me!” Steve snaps.
He watches, helpless, as the Hawkins Hacker punches you between the eyes and you crumple like sand.
“Whoa, cool!” Henry Creel says, turning around and facing the four teens with an excited glimmer in his eye. “I’ve never knocked someone out with one punch before.”
“Wait!” Nancy says. “Am I right?”
“Right about what?” Jonathan asks.
“Did Henry and Y/N…switch bodies?”
Henry (or, Y/N?) puts his hands on his hips.
“Girl, how did you know?”
It all becomes too much for Steve. He blacks out.
🔪🔪🔪
When Steve wakes, he’s lying on the Byers’ couch. Henry Creel sits on a kitchen chair next to him.
Steve opens his mouth to scream.
“Wait!” Henry says. “Steve, don’t freak out. It’s me! I know I look like the Hacker, but it’s Y/N!”
Across the room, the person that looks like you is tied to another kitchen chair.
“Steve, don’t listen to him!” Y/N laments. “He’s crazy! He brainwashed these three idiots into working for him!”
“Who are you calling idiot, idiot?” Robin snaps.
“Steve, I was right,” Nancy explains patiently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Y/N and Henry Creel have switched places.”
“No!” the tied-up Y/N shrieks. “Please! Steve, look at me.”
Steve turns his head toward her.
“No!” Henry says. “Look at me, Steve.”
Steve turns back toward the Hacker/potential real you.
“Steve!” the tied-up Y/N groans, trying to sound in distress but actually moaning like a Bridgerton reject. “Steve! Steeeeeeeve!”
“Oh, dry up, bitch!” Robin snaps.
“Jesus Christ, Robin!” Henry says. “Don’t talk to him like that when he’s got my face. That’s rude.”
“This is all too much,” Steve says, jumping to his feet. “I—I can’t be here.”
He darts toward the door, but before he can exit the Byers house, Henry stands and says, “We danced together at our freshman year Snow Ball!”
Steve pauses with his hand on the door handle.
“It was in the parking lot,” Henry continues. “You were vaping and I was leaving early, because truthfully, I was having a terrible time. But I saw you, and you saw me, and we split a snowflake-shaped sugar cookie and talked for, like, half an hour. And then someone propped the doors open and we could hear the DJ, and he was playing that creepy ’80s song about always watching someone, and we ragged on the lyrics for being weird and stalker-y. But you asked me if I wanted to dance, and we did for half a minute, and then my dad came to pick me up and I left. But that was the most fun I had had all semester and it gave me a fat, embarrassing crush on you. And I really, really wish I wasn’t a total coward, or I would’ve told you way sooner than our senior year—and when I wasn’t in the body of a serial killer.”
Steve watches the way Henry nervously wrings his hands—he recognizes it as a habit of yours. For a long minute, he’s not sure what to think.
🔪🔪🔪
For a long minute, you’re not sure what to think.
You just blurted out your secret crush on Steve Harrington to Steve Harrington, and he’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand you.
But then, he gives you a small smile.
“Maybe this is weird to say while you’re in the body of a serial killer,” Steve says, “but I have a fat, embarrassing crush on you, too.”
Your heart soars.
“Pathetic,” the fake-you/the Hacker grumbles. “You’re both cowards. I can’t wait to gut you like a fish.”
“That’s enough!” Nancy says sharply, shoving a sock into the Hacker’s mouth. He glares up at her with your face, but Nancy doesn’t even flinch.
“Now that that’s out of the way,” Jonathan says, “let’s divide and conquer. I’ll stay here to keep an eye on murder Barbie.”
He nods in the direction of the scowling, incapacitated Hacker.
“And I’ll drive the rest of us to the police station,” Nancy says. “Y/N, you’ll stay in the car while we distract your stepbrother and steal that knife back. He should be the only one working, because everyone else is hunting you. Er, Henry.”
“Knife?” Steve asks. “What knife?”
“It’s a spooky, magic dagger and it’s the reason Y/N and Henry Creel are swapped!” Robin says.
Steve blinks once, twice.
“Right. Totally. That makes sense.”
“Let’s go!” you say. “We have four more hours to do this!”
🔪🔪🔪
While Nancy and Robin go to get the knife, you and Steve wait in the car.
It’s a little awkward, due to the circumstances. When you imagined sitting in the backseat of a car with Steve Harrington, you hoped for something a little more amorous. Not you in the body of the Hawkins Hacker.
You start to feel a little brave and even consider reaching for his hand to hold—when you see the fake you running down the sidewalk and into the station.
“What?!” you say. “How’d he get out?!”
“Shit,” Steve says. “You stay out of sight, I’ll try and stop him.”
“No!” you say. “My stepbrother’s in there! I have to go help. You stay here and call Jonathan! Make sure he’s okay.”
Steve frowns but nods, agreeing to stay behind.
When you bolt into the police station, you see Phil with his hand on his holster, glaring at Robin and Nancy. Fake you feigns a frightened gasp and runs behind him when you enter, and Phil pulls his gun and points it at you. You throw your hands up.
“Don’t shoot!” you squeak.
“Kill him!” Henry says from his hiding spot.
“Don’t! Stop!” Robin and Nancy shout.
You see the spider dagger on the ground by your friends’ feet. Before you can try and grab it, Henry does and runs out of the station.
Phil doesn’t even give him a second look.
“Put your hands behind your head,” he says to you, “and walk slowly into the cell.”
“This is a mistake!” you protest, but following his instructions so you don’t get pumped with lead.
“Please, Officer Callahan,” Robin begs.
“We’re telling the truth,” Nancy says, “just—”
“Quiet, you two!” he barks. “You! Keep walking.”
You gulp and step into the cell.
“Do you remember what I got you for Christmas in 2017?” you ask.
“Shut up,” Phil says. You glance behind. He still has the gun pointed at your back, but you see his hands shaking. And his finger’s not on the trigger.
“It was a pack of limited-edition Pokémon cards,” you continue. “Mint condition. With a holographic Charizard. But I didn’t realize I ordered a rip-off pack called Pokeymans, so it was actually a Chumpizard card.”
“How the fuck do you know that?!” Phil demands, voice shaking in tandem with his hands.
“Because I’m not the Hawkins Hacker!” you say. “I’m really Y/N. And…I’m sorry about this.”
With Henry Creel’s strength, you knock the gun out of Phil’s hands. It skitters across the floor, and you yank him by the arm into the cell.
He stumbles against the back wall and you step out, closing the door and locking him inside.
“HEY!” Phil screams, yanking at the bars. “LET ME OUT!”
“I’m so sorry!” you say. “But it’s really me. I have to hunt that bitch down and stab him with the stolen dagger and then our bodies will switch back and things will be normal again!”
“STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!” Phil roars, evidently not buying into the body-swap story.
Touched, you clasp your hands to your chest.
“Wait, you called me your sister!” you say. “Not stepsister! That’s so sweet. You’re my brother, Phil. And I’m going to make things right.”
Phil furrows his brow, confused, as you run out with Nancy and Robin in tow.
Jonathan and Steve meet you three out front.
“Your brother can’t drive for shit!” Steve says. “He just almost ran us over with his squad car.”
“That wasn’t Phil!” you say. “It was Henry! He stole his cop car. But why? Where the fuck is he going?”
“Earlier this evening,” Nancy says urgently, “I heard you—uh, him—tell Billy that they should throw a homecoming party at the old mill, since they canceled the real dance.”
“That’s where he lives!" you say. "His homebase. It’s where I woke up this morning.”
“It’s his hunting ground,” Robin says darkly. “No doubt he’ll be killing teens left and right.”
“We have to stop him,” Jonathan says.
“No shit, Byers!” Steve says. “Let’s go!”
🔪🔪🔪
When you arrive at the mill, your group agrees to split up.
“Wait!” Steve says, before you dart off. “Hold out your arm.”
You hesitate and do as he says. He attaches his watch to your wrist.
“I always have it set for five minutes ahead,” Steve explains. “So I’m not late to stuff. So we have 30 minutes to find the Hacker, get the knife, and do the switch.”
“Everyone keep your phones close,” Jonathan says. “Move out!”
You divide and conquer, searching the party of wild, drunk teenagers for the evil man wearing your face. Eventually, you find him in an empty back room — towering over an unconscious Billy with an axe in hand, ready to whack the bully in the skull.
“WAIT!” you yell. “STOP!”
The Hacker freezes and turns, giving you an evil smile. You see the hilt of the magical dagger shining in a sheath attached to his belt.
“It’s you again,” he spits.
“Yes, hi,” you say. “It’s me. And I’m going to ask you to put the axe down before I make you.”
The Hacker cackles.
“Really?” he says. “Even in your pathetic, puny body, I could overpower you in half a second. Plus, this jerk makes your life hell. Don’t you want me to finish him off?”
“No!” you snap. “Because I’m not a monster like you!”
You notice Jonathan in a doorframe behind the Hacker, staying out of his eyeline.
“What’s your problem, man?” you ask, hoping to distract him so Jonathan can take him by surprise. “Why do you kill people?”
“Do you really want to know why?” Henry asks. You nod.
“Well, guess what: there’s no reason. None at all. I kill people because I think it’s fun!”
“You’re sick,” you mutter.
He grins evilly.
“And you’re my next vict—Argh!”
Jonathan interrupts the Hacker’s evil spiel by hitting him in the back of the skull with a fire extinguisher. The murderer crumples to the ground, the axe flying out of his reach.
He doesn’t stay down for long. Thankfully, you’re able to tackle him and snatch the magical knife into your hand.
You raise it above your head, and—
Beep. Beep. Beep.
You gasp and look at Steve’s watch. The timer is done. You’re out of time.
The Hacker laughs and laughs and laughs.
“Shit,” you say, tears of anger and despair welling up in your eyes. “Shit! I’m stuck like this!”
“I win!” the Hacker cackles. “You’ll be tossed in jail, and I’ll be free to keep killing. I think I'll stab your little boyfriend Steve next.”
You’re about to drop the dagger and run, unsure of where to go or what to do, when Jonathan says: “Wait, the clock tower!”
You whip your head over to look at him, brow furrowed.
“The clock tower in the library!” Jonathan continues. “It’s not going off! You still have time!”
Puzzle pieces fall into place.
“Steve sets his watch five minutes ahead,” you say, glancing at your wrist.
Henry Creel’s eyes widen, and then you plunge the dagger into his shoulder.
You feel strange, like you’re floating in the air. Then, suddenly, both you and the Hacker are thrown backward.
When you hazily blink and sit up, you see the Hacker doing the same.
“It worked!” you say, face splitting into a grin.
The Hacker glares at you. You feel a chill down your spine. But before he can do or say anything, your brother swoops in with his gun raised.
“Hands where I can see them!” Phil yells. The Hacker grumbles but obeys. You and Jonathan skirt away from him as Phil slaps handcuffs on the killer and drags him into a squad car.
“Y/N!” Robin shouts, running over with Nancy and Steve in tow. “Are you okay?!”
“I’m okay,” you say. You wince and grip your shoulder. “Except I reopened my shoulder wound, and I think I’m going to have really, really freaky dreams every night for the rest of my life.”
Phil races back over once his colleagues have Henry Creel in custody, fussing over you like a mother (brother) hen. You find yourself seated in the back of an ambulance with a freshly bandaged shoulder.
After Phil steps away to debrief Chief Hopper on the arrest (and to lock the magical dagger away once and for all), Steve wanders over.
“Can I sit here?” he asks, gesturing vaguely next to you on the back bumper of the ambulance. You nod and scoot over.
“How’s your arm?” Steve asks.
“It’s mine again,” you say, “so it feels amazing, despite the stab wound.”
“I’m definitely glad to see you as yourself again,” Steve says, cheeks flushing pink. He looks down at his fidgeting hands, the epitome of bashful, when he adds, “Actually, now that you’re yourself again, I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me sometime.”
Your insides melt.
“Really?” you practically squeal, trying not to sound too eager. “Ah, I mean. That would be cool, or whatever.”
Before you can convince yourself not to, you give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek. He beams at you, but you both roll your eyes when you hear Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy hoot and holler from a few yards away.
Everything will be fine, now. You’ll be fine. That’s what you tell yourself when Phil drives you home and LeAnn gives you a million hugs and says how happy she is that you’re okay. That’s what you tell yourself when you fall asleep after having a lovely text conversation with Steve. That’s what you tell yourself when you have nightmares about being stuck as the Hacker forever, nightmares where he escapes jail and kills you (and everyone you love) once and for all.
But you tell yourself it’s fine, that you’re fine. That nothing is wrong, despite the chill down your spine that can’t quite go away.
🔪🔪🔪
a/n a happy yet spooky ending. is everything really fine? is the hacker really gone for good? maybe I'll write a sequel one day. or maybe I won't, as to not torture y/n any more.
tag list: @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @a-dealwith-god
if any of my mutuals (or anyone else) would like to be tagged in any of my future steve fics, lmk!
#st fic: superfreaky#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n
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Back Off
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (Volume 2)
Warnings: Violence, fighting, unwanted advances from Billy.
Summary: You choose to help defend the kids when Billy comes after them.
“Well, well, well.” Billy started as he stalked towards the kids in the house. “Look who it is. Lucas Sinclair.”
The kids were terrified, attempting to back away in an effort to create distance before the towering bully. But the more they moved, so did Billy.
That’s when you barged into the room and saw what was unfolding. “Billy, you need to back off.” You demanded, moving to stand on his right.
Billy scoffed. He licked his lips and switched focus, now advancing towards you instead. “You’re becoming quite the thorn in my ass, Y/n.” He said matter-of-factly and quickly began closing the space.
You started to inch away, one step at a time, until your back hit the wall. In hindsight, you probably should have picked another spot before engaging. But it was too late, Billy had you trapped. He dipped his head towards your neck and took in a deep breath.
“Mmm...you smell good.” He whispered while his hand crept up beneath your shirt, fingers gently touching your skin. “Is that sandlewood?”
You were revolted at his predatory actions. A small part of you blamed Steve for this. If Steve had told him to stay away when Billy first showed interest, you might not be subject to his unwanted advances. But a stronger part of you knew that Steve regretted being silent.
Wanting to push him away, you feared that Billy would retaliate and attack the kids instead. The best you could do was be a distraction in the hopes that they could escape - even if it meant entertaining his delusion.
“It’s disgust, actually.” You snapped.
Billy’s head came up to face you, for a second he leaned back but then his free hand clenched around your throat.
You gasped in surprise as Billy pressed with just enough force to keep your head pinned.
“Harrington hasn’t got much action. I could make you feel so much...more.” His face inched closer to your own. “Want to pick the right guy this time?”
“No.” Steve’s voice re-entered the house. “They don’t.”
Putting a hand on Billy’s shoulder, Steve forced the young man around into the middle of the room and threw his fist against Billy’s facing knocking him back. Glancing over to you, Steve noticed the way you let out a shaky breath which indicated that you weren’t badly hurt.
Billy chuckled as he planted his feet and straightened up. “There he is! I was wondering when I was going to meet this King Steve that I’ve heard so much about.” Billy spat, pointing to you. “First you tell me that they’re not seeing anyone and, now, you want them to yourself?”
Steve was pissed but he also didn’t want to spark another fist fight so he pushed Billy back with his hand, firmly enough to stand his ground and send a message.
“Get out.”
That’s when it happened - like hell itself had tore through the ground for a reckoning.
Billy threw the first punch but Steve had anticipated it and ducked. It seemed to have taken Billy by surprise as Steve then hit the young man knocking him back towards the table. There was a cheer from the kids as Steve got a good couple of punches in. While you were glad he had the upper hand, it all flipped the moment Billy grabbed a plate and shattered it against Steve’s head.
Your heart stopped as Billy went on the offence. Then you noticed that the fight was heading towards the living room and Dustin was standing too close. Rushing forward, you managed the grab the boy and pull him away just before Billy swung and caught the wall instead. You ushered Dustin to his friends but then heard Steve’s groans.
The living room scene had you fearing for Steve’s life as Billy was relentless with his hits. Again, you must have been running on adrenaline because you dismissed all rational thought and ran forward to grab Billy’s shoulder, hoping you could pull him off Steve.
You were wrong. Billy stopped mid-punch when he felt you on his shoulder. He turned sharply and tugged your arm harshly to pull you close enough until his hand could grab your neck.
“This isn’t your fight, Y/n.” He warned.
Then it happened so quickly. One minute he was speaking and the next, Billy used his strength to throw you over his shoulder until you practically flew into the wall, crashing into anything that was in the way. There was a sharp pain that seared through your head and you immediately blacked out.
A heavy thud shook you back to your senses. You found yourself staring at the ceiling. There was so much noise from the kids until you singled one out - Max. She was demanding Billy to leave them all alone and judging from the small groan, Billy must have adhered. You had no clue how they managed to get the upper hand but were thankful that they did.
Clutching at the ache in your head, you pulled your hand back and found blood. Shit.
Closing your eyes, you took in a deep breath, stopping only when your body cried out in pain. You rolled over slowly and, very carefully, made your way across the floor to where Steve was laying. He didn’t look good at all.
“Steve?” You called. There was a few beats of silence until the young man groaned and moved. When his eyes opened, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank god, you’re okay.”
Steve raised his hand with a small whimper and rested it against your face. “That son of a bitch.” He murmured when he saw the injury that Billy had inflicted.
“I’m fine.” You confirmed. Carefully, you laid down beside him and caught your breath without letting go of Steve’s hand.
There was some noise above you presumably by the kids. Then a sweet face with curly hair appeared in your line of sight.
“Okay, don’t panic but we need to move you into the car - Max, get the keys!”
You didn’t register much of what he said as you slipped into a dreamless sleep. When you came back around, you were in the backseat of a moving vehicle and Steve was freaking out next to you.
If he was here with you - who was driving?
Masterlist here
#theladyofmanyfandoms#theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction#gif is not mine#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve x reader#steve imagine#stranger things imagine#stranger things x reader
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in the stars | part 1
robin buckley is four years old when she hears her prophecy for the first time.
it had been later than expected. another delayed milestone, she’d hear her mother say when she’s older. most children heard theirs by age three.
still. far too young to hear how she’ll die.
most prophecies, she learns, aren’t straightforward, and even less speak openly of death. usually they’re vague, open for many interpretations.
robin can’t think of another way to interpret “you will give your life for a man who loves you”.
it’s a heavy weight to carry. her family keep it quiet. her parents, in particular, seem to take it upon themselves to mourn her in advance. saving themselves future heartache, maybe, by not getting attached. they don’t have anymore children. she hears her father’s whispered fears that they’d lose them, too.
robin, in truth, grows up mostly okay. she doesn’t share her prophecy, even without her parents warning her to keep it to herself. it’s hard enough to make friends as it is.
she is, however, resentful. she thinks it’s fair enough. her life is to be stolen from her. by a man, no less. she doesn’t even like men. when she realises that she likes girls instead of boys, that she’s a lesbian, it’s just one more layer of resentment.
dying for a man who loves her. what a joke.
the only consolation is that it must be a distant tragedy. no men in her life love her, and with how she keeps to herself, she doesn’t see it happening anytime soon.
then she starts working at scoops ahoy, and her world is turned on its axis. steve harrington confesses to her, and she feels sick, but he understands. time continues on, and steve ribs her for her taste in women, and it’s… it’s nice. nicer, still, to know it’s not him. she doesn’t tell him about her prophecy. he doesn’t ask. she doesn’t ask about his, and he doesn’t tell her. she wonders if his life is signed away, too.
the corruption in hawkins comes back, because it always does, steve tells her. they fight for their lives again. they don’t win, but they don’t quite lose. they survive, though not without casualties. they keep struggling on.
max’s prophecy, dustin tells her in a quiet voice one day, said that she would know love blind. a sick joke from the fates, seemingly. he tells her about his. when he was two, his mother was told that he would fix things without knowing they’re broken.
robin thinks of steve, and how dustin helped him find himself. of eddie, and how dustin’s fierce loyalty protected him. of max, and how dustin unknowingly brought her back into their fold of friendship and love.
true enough, she thinks.
he asks about her prophecy. she… hesitates, in truth. it’s been a long time since she’d spoken the words. she trusts him, though. she tells him what she was told all those years ago. dustin frowns, and she shrugs awkwardly. then, he says that they’ll just have to fight men away from her, won’t they? she laughs at that. his optimism is a welcome breath of air. she asks that he keep it to himself; it’s not something she chooses to share often. he nods, glowing with pride of being chosen. they don’t talk about it again. sometimes, she sees him side-eyeing boys around her.
then they’re thrust into the fight again. the earth opens up, belching out endless monsters, and they fight tirelessly. they split into groups. she and steve are together, as always, side-by-side. they’re joined by nancy and lucas, a party of four to defend their home.
she should have seen it coming, she thinks. it had been staring her in the face and she had closed her eyes.
steve, ever the self-sacrificial fool, had risked his life for them, taking on monsters alone, and she had moved without thinking. she had dived after him. she had followed him—she would have followed him to the ends of the earth—and when he had taken a hit, she had cried out, begging the universe: not him. please, not him. the universe said nothing. and then it dawned on her; the universe had already answered her.
when steve collapses, wounded, she steps over him, separating him from the swarming monsters. she holds her weapon high and makes herself his shield. you will give your life for a man who loves you, she had been told. it never mentioned she’d love him. that she’d give it gladly.
when she takes the hit, the slashing claw meant for steve that burrows into her abdomen, she almost laughs. she’d been so blind; it never said the love would be romantic. of course it had been steve. steve, who would give his life for everyone else in a heartbeat. she had been born to keep him alive.
it’s an almost comforting thought, and it sticks with her as she beats back the monsters, as they finally collapse around them, no doubt after the real villain is brought down by el. as she sinks to her knees, as steve starts cradling her.
“robin,” he says, pleads, and he’s crying, his teardrops hitting her face like rain. she takes his hand, unable to stop a whimper escaping her, and he sobs, pulling her closer. he starts babbling, repeating words like a mantra: not her, not her, please.
he’s shaking, she realises, clutching her in his arms, like sheer willpower can keep her alive. it can’t, she knows. nothing is more powerful than a prophecy, not even love.
“steve,” she whispers. his head snaps to her, almost hopeful. she cracks a small smile. “i love you,” she says, and his hopeful expression falls.
“i love you,” he says, tears falling freely down his cheeks again, and she knows. she’s always known, even before she’d realised.
she closes her eyes.
#my fics#my writing#robin buckley#steve harrington#platonic stobin#stobin#stranger things#dustin henderson#can u tell i've been on a greek mythology kick recently#the prophecies got to me...#there's two more parts to this i think. not sure yet#have fun#angst#major character death#st fics#stobin fic
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