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iveseenstrangerthings · 1 year

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more than friends - a steve harrington imagine

summary: a real fluffy imagine after writing angst for the past few, best friends turns to lovers. Reader is teased about their close relationship with Steve by a jocky asshole, so Steve decides to do something about his feelings. both are obviously pining for each other but just don’t know how to do something about it!!

word count: 3.3k

warnings: really cringe asshole male talk about female character (inappropriate sexual remarks) & swearing.

thanks @urfriendlywriter for the friends to lovers confession prompt!!! <3

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“Alrighty class, notes for the biological study are on the blackboard, you have the full hour to complete this. I expect everyone to have the practical experiment done, and their write up started by the bell. Am I clear with that?” Mrs Peters stands with her hands on top of her blooming belly, slightly leaning against the desk with her hip.

The class grumble a response and Mrs Peters smiles, nodding. “I’ll float until my ankles hurt,” She starts, hinting to her swollen pregnancy ankles and gets a murmur of laughter in response, “Off you go!”

The equipment is already lain out for you and your lab partner, Brad. He stands awfully close to you as you sort through the different brightly coloured flowers scattering your table. You have a feeling you’ll end up doing all the work, with Brad copying everything down in the last ten minutes.

“Jheez.” Brad whistles under his breath as the class volume raises to the sound of students discussing their impending flower dissections. “Wonder who the lucky bastard is that gets a ride on her.” You turn to face him, your insides screaming with utter disgust, he motions his head to Mrs Peters and slides his eyebrows up and down.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to the white peony that you’ve set out for your first dissection. Brad hears, and just laughs to you. He takes that as a joke, as a compliment, and it disgusts you even more. “Can you start to take the petals off those,” your eyes flit to the five other flowers laid out in a neat, colourful row, “and make notes on their type of pollination?” A tinge of annoyance already lacing your voice.

“Their type’ah what now?” He sits picking the petals off roughly, not following any of Mrs Peters prior instructions, and that fills you with rage. As someone who excels in school and wants to do well, your lab partner pairing feels like someone, somewhere, wants to torture you. You realise that it’s going to be easier, and less painful, if you just do it. Just crack on with the lab practical and let Brad sit there and sniff the pretty petals. “Can you get high on this stuff?” He says, his nose dotted with a tiny bit of pollen from where he dug it into the centre of the flower.

You widen your eyes and nod enthusiastically, “High as a kite.” You confirm, sarcastically, and his eyes glow back at you. Jesus...

Time passes and you’re in your element, investigating stigmas and anthers up close under the microscope, adding to your quick diagrams of each part with brief, but helpful, notes. Ones that Brad will no doubt copy from in due course. He’s sitting, like an impatient child, folding and tearing the petals he picked off earlier. The only time he’s made an effort so far is when Mrs Peters made her rounds and he came to stand by you and ‘make notes’ on your observations, only to sit back down again and scribble in the margin of his notebook when she slunk back away.

“Harrington shown you a good time yet, huh?” Brad’s voice breaks the silence between the two of you and your cheeks flush a deep red as you squint through the lens of the microscope. A thick glob of saliva forms under your tongue which you swiftly swallow back. “Come on, we’re in biology... can we not discuss things like that?”

You lift your head from the lens and look at him. His face is expectant, expectant of your response, hoping for a bite back, and he calmly crosses his arms over his chest. Your cheeks are still firing up, your vision goes slightly blurry for a short while as white-hot anger burns up inside you. After glaring at him for some time, you return to your position at the microscope.

Before you could realise, he’s bumping your arm with his and leaning down to speak to you, not even the beautifully intricate flower beneath you is giving you any sanity. “If he’s too much of a pussy to do it, let me show you what a good time is really like.” He’s so close you can feel his breath warm your ear and send shivers down your spine, feeling like it’s hitting every vertebrate on the way down.

“Steve and I are just friends.” The more uninterested you seem, the more likely he is to give up on his pursuit and just shut the fuck up. Or so you’re hoping.

He scoffs, “Pfft.” His tongue creeps from his mouth and licks his bottom lip, “Friends with benefits? C’mon. I ain’t stupid.” He goes quiet then you feel a soft tickle forming down your spine, Brad’s finger. Then, his breath back in your ear, “Bet he doesn’t know your sweet spots.”

You shoot back from Brad, holding your hands up, like you’ve been scolded with a hot iron, “Okay. That’s it.” You charge from your station down to the front where Mrs Peters sits, grading papers. “Mrs Peters.” You say, quietly now that you’re down here, not wanting anyone to hear your conversation. In your hands, your fingers tremble slightly with the adrenaline of the conversation you just had. “I would like to request a change of lab partner.” Your voice comes out strong and confident but your face paints a different picture. “Please.”

Mrs Peters looks behind you, at your now half empty desk, and to Brad who sits and moves stems and petals around the table into a phallic shape. He grabs the attention of the pair in front, who seem displeased at the childish distraction. She raises her brows in his direction, when he meets her glare, his cheeks flush a light pink, and he rearranges the flowers into the muddle they were before.

“Say no more, sweet pea.” She says with an exasperated sigh, shuffling papers to pull out her seating plan. You look over as she pulls a pencil from her pot and pats her lip with the eraser. “Eleanor’s in need of a partner.” She says, tracing over the spare seat on her plan, “That sound good?” Mrs Peter’s kind eyes meet your own and she offers you a sincere smile.

“That would be great.” Your heart leaps with relief.

“Finish up there for today, you can move on Monday. He can stay with me.” As you make your way back to your desk, Mrs Peters calls out from hers. “Brad Norton.” The class falls silent, her usual sing-song voice has turned cold, stern. “I don’t recall asking you to make penises with your pretty little flowers. You can stay and do your lab work, tho-rough-ly,” she sounds out each syllable in the word, the veins in her neck protruding with distaste at her student, “with me in detention.”

The classroom remains quiet as you find your seat and complete your notes. “Bitch.” Is muttered venomously from next to you and you’re unsure if it’s directed at you or Mrs Peters, but you’re past caring.

✦ ✦ ✦

On Friday nights, you and Steve like to walk from school to the diner which flickers welcomingly in the dark winter light as you approach. As usual, you take to your table which is located in the corner of the diner. It is cosy. You love coming here, especially with Steve. It’s a time that you can spend together, just the two of you, have a burger, have a milkshake, and just catch up on the week. You adore your Friday nights with Steve.

Now, you’re leaning against the comfy backing of the squishy diner chair, the fabric crinkling awkwardly as you get yourself comfortable. You’ve both cleared your plates, smears of ketchup and dustings of salt lie in remnant of what was two full plates of burgers and fries. Gluttonously, as your stomach feels heavy with the greasy food that you adore, you continue to gulp your milkshake.

“I heard Brad Norton got a detention today in bio.” Steve finishes dragging his last fry through a dreg of ketchup before placing it into his mouth, laughing at the new conversation topic. You simply roll your eyes and let the milkshake freeze your back teeth before swallowing.

“He’s an asshole.” You retort, swirling your straw around in the thick, creamy drink. Your eyes stay fixed on the pink substance in your glass, watching the small particles of ice slowly melt the more you stir. “I’ve switched partners, finally. I asked Mrs Peters to move.”

“Really?”

You nod, your brows furrowing. “Uh, yeah. I don’t fancy sitting and getting creepy back strokes from him for the rest of the year.”

Steve sits back against the seat, “He did what?” A surge of jealousy, and anger flits through him and you can see it flash across his eyes, a change so subtle you feel proud you noticed. He knows that would’ve made you uncomfortable and he knows where Brad usually goes on a Friday night, he runs over the possibility of going there and beating the shit out of him, but quickly decides that would be a terrible idea. “Is that what he got his detention for? Being a creep?”

You laugh slightly, “Close.” You take another gulp of milkshake. “He was making dicks out of the flowers.” You realise you’re talking to your milkshake and not to Steve, he’s noticed too and realises there’s more to this story than you’re letting on. He knows you too well.

“You sure that’s all he did?” He knows not to push things with you, but the feeling is bubbling up inside of him.

You toy with the idea for a moment. Tell Steve, let Steve get angry and potentially make your favourite night of the week awkward? Or, don’t tell Steve, enjoy each other’s company and go from there?

You’ve both been close to sharing your feelings with each other on multiple occasions, sat in this very booth. The diner must have an aura that allows you to become content with your feelings with one another, almost becoming more than friends. The diner is where you’ve shared feelings, ranted about shitty weeks, shitty dates; cried into milkshakes over the clear downfall of Hawkins. But it’s also where you’ve brushed hands as you reach for napkins, letting your fingertips linger a little longer than is necessary. It’s where you’ve held eye contact as you talk about things that interest you, the other listening with intent adoration. His eyes glisten as he listens to you discuss another biological theory that you love talking about with him, his lips curling as he listens intently and marvels at your passion and drive for science. You return the active listening as he discusses the trips to the Upside Down, watch little pieces of him break apart as he cracks open his memories of things he tries so hard to supress, but keep creeping back into his consciousness.

So, with all that in mind, you decide to tell him. “He quizzed me on whether you show me a good time.” You blurt out, placing your milkshake down and folding your arms onto the table. “said he would show me a good time, said he knew my sweet spots. Basically, he spent the lesson trying to get into my pants.”

His face is a picture of disgust, his eyebrows furrowing so deep you think they’ll knit together. “I promise you; he is one of a kind.” He holds his hands up in defence, “We are not all sex crazed lunatics who like making people feel uncomfortable.” His features soften and he looks over to you, taking in your features as he likes to here. They look softer in the glow of the luminous light that hangs above their window, the streetlights casting a yellow tinge into the corner where you sit tucked away. “I’m sorry he made you feel like that.” His voice is sincere.

You shake it off with a whip of a hand, “Shall we get out of here?”

He nods, leaving the money on the table. “Come back to mine? We can watch a movie.”

As you stand to straighten yourself up, you smile back at him warmly, nodding gently at his offer.

✦ ✦ ✦

Warm waves of air circulate out of the heater placed by your feet as you sit in Steve’s basement on the couch, watching a new film Steve rented out. You haven’t really been paying attention, you’ve been more interested in gradually moving your limbs inch by inch closer to Steve’s, your breath hitching as you feel him doing the same. Soon enough, you’re sat with your arms pressed against one another and your leg is resting comfortably against his.

“Can’t stop thinking about what that asshole said to you.” His voice sounds weird after not talking for so long, the only sound being the grumbling heater and the soundtrack of the film playing out in front of you.

You rub his arm gently, sighing, “Stop thinking about it Steve, he’s not worth it.”

“No, I know.” He’s quiet for a while again, the flickers of vibrant colours on the screen lighting up his features and your eyes travel around them all. He feels your eyes on him and leans to pause the TV, the sudden cut of sound making the room feel too quiet. Your breathing slows, waiting for him to start the conversation again. Sheepishly, you slowly pull your hand from his arm, suddenly feeling awkward having left it there for so long. He turns his body so he’s facing you and you scoot back a touch, propping your arm up on the back of the couch and leaning your head against your palm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You probe delicately, you can tell he has something whirlpooling in his mind.

He shakes his head, smiling coyly. “Just thinking.”

“About...” Your hands tumble over one another, hinting for him to go on.

“You.” His bluntness makes your stomach squeeze tight, as if you’ve just dropped from one of those free-fall rides at the amusement park. His face remains unchanged, his eyes studying yours. “Thinking about you.”

Slowly, you take a deep breath in. Unaware you were holding it in the first place. “Why me?” Annoyingly, your voice comes out as quiet as the hum of the heater, almost inaudible to someone who wasn’t trained in on the conversation. Suddenly the room feels warm, and you realise this could be the time to have the conversation you’ve been longing to have.

“’Cause I think about you all the time.”

You’d hoped all this time that he does just that.

And he does, he thinks of you when you aren’t there, when he’s lonely, when he feels sad, when he lies awake at night wishing he could turn over and feel the warmth of your skin against this. Wishing he could spend the night with you in a blur of heavy breathing, lustful kisses and soft moans. Wishing he could tell you how much you mean to him afterwards, holding you close whilst you both catch your breath and settle into the sheets in a dream-like state. He’s realising now how close he is to having all of this. To having you. If you want him, that is.

“I know you feel what I feel.” His voice is low and his hand travels to rest just in between the two of you, like he wanted to commit to holding you but got scared half-way and changed his mind.

A speckle of heat rests on your cheeks. “What is it that you feel?” Again, your voice is quiet, and you feel the pulse thick and fast, the heat rising up your neck from your chest.

He clears his throat. “I know we both enjoy the time we spend together, as friends. But I don’t wanna be just friends anymore.” Silence settles over the pair of you, but you know that he’s not done yet, so you wait patiently for him to continue. “You make me feel so comfortable and you always know how to cheer me up, when to give me space, when to distract me from whatever’s going on...”

Hairs on the back of your neck prickle as the tingling sensation of adrenaline courses through your body. He continues, “I hate the fact that even assholes like Brad know there is something between us.” He sighs softly but carries on, “The fact that we haven’t even done as much as discussed how we feel, yet he’s happy to make degrading sexual comments to you about us.”

You nod along in agreement. “I know.” Suddenly, your whole body feels drawn to him and you slide back along the couch, shuffling down into his side and placing your head in the crook of his neck, resting your arm over his stomach. This feels right, you think to yourself happily. “I love spending time with you, too. I have loved growing close to you these past few months and I-”

He lets his arm fall around your shoulders and he cuts you off, “Wait.” He insists as you feel his other hand come to rest gently against your neck, his thumb resting lightly against your jaw. “Look at me when you say it.” With his hand still resting on your neck, he gradually guides your face up so that it’s inches away from his own. His eyes travelling lazily over your features he’s grown to know so well before locking in with your own.

Inside your chest, your heart is hammering wildly. Never have you been this close. Never this intimate. “I want to be with you, Steve.” You quietly admit, although it’s not much of a shocker. A smile forms on his lips, which have now moved ever so close to your own. Impatient and running on adrenaline, you close the gap between the pair of you and bring your lips together. His hand stays firmly on your neck, his fingertips gradually gripping the hair at the nape of your neck as your fist grasps his t-shirt as the kiss intensifies.

The months of longing are finally coming to a head here and now as you are both desperate for each other. Not just in a sexual longing, but an emotional and physical intimacy longing, too. You can feel yourself getting lulled further into the kiss as his tongue searches for your own.

After a few moments have passed, you both pull away gently, chests slightly heaving as you both work to catch some of your breath back. You rest your forehead against his and brush your nose past his, moving back to give him a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “What do you say then?” You can see the happiness radiating across his face, the creases by his eyes and the soft pink glow gives it all away. His thumb traces across your cheek, “You wanna give us a shot?” He says.

Nodding, you reflect the same happiness glow that Steven is portraying. “I wanna give us the best shot.”

Satisfied, he takes his hand back from your face and you feel how hot your cheek has been under his touch. He holds you close to him as he reaches back down to play the movie. A couple minutes later, he clears his throat. “And, if ‘Brad’” He uses air-quotes around his name, “Or any of his asshole friends wanna make any comments to you again, I’ll drop those motherfuckers.” He point blank says as his eyes follow along with the scene playing out in the movie before you.

The sudden threat from Steve brings a laugh out from you and it fills the room. Your shoulders shake as your laugh intensifies; he gestures his hands towards the TV. “Hey, do you mind keeping it down? Trying to watch a movie here.” He tuts and shakes his head playfully before resting it on top of your own, tracing his fingertips over your arm so that tiny goosebumps raise on your skin. A couple of minutes later, you find your breathing rising and falling at the same time as Steve’s, your eyes fall softly closed as you’re lulled into a light sleep, cocooned under the blankets and Steve’s arms.

#masterlist #stranger things prompts #stranger things preferences #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things blurbs #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic

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myosotisa · 1 year

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Steve Harrington would give the best hugs. Like big bear hugs. Solid, tight, borderline bone crushing. If you ask him for a hug, he's delivering on the best hug he could possibly give. And there are two kinds of hugs:

The first has strong arms tucking under yours, wrapping tight around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder or tucking his face into your neck. Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him down to you. A hug that makes you feel surrounded and held and pressed tight to every inch of him possible. It's a tight hug that makes you feel safe, and he's so warm and he smells like expensive cologne and sunshine.

The second is more gentle. Just as tight and just as comforting, but more intimate. One arm wrapped around your shoulder with a hand on your upper back, the other hand lightly on the back of your head, pressing your face into his chest or neck. Your arms wrapped around his waist this time, molding yourself to the front of him. His cheek against your temple or his chin resting on the top of your head. A kiss pressed to your hairline. A hug that tells you everything is gonna be okay, Steve's got you, he's right here.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington headcanon #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurbs #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 year

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head empty, no thoughts, other than eddie eating you out ♡

18+ duh, afab!reader, nicknames (baby, pretty baby, good girl), 0.3K, not beta read, inspired by this

you've been here for an hour, on your back, legs spread the perfect length apart, so utterly spent from at least seven orgasms. or at least that's how many you remember. you sorta lost count, all things considered.

your legs, sticky with sweat, are dangling over eddie's shoulders, your hands stuck in his hair because you're not sure you have the strength to move them. "ed-" you manage to get out, just as his tongue brushes your sweet spot.

"shhh," he coos, "i know, baby." his tongue works even harder at you, and you swear he's writing munson with the tip of it, and it only makes you that much wetter for him.

you can feel your orgasm approaching, your toes curling into the bare skin of his back. "ed-die, i-i" you stutter, your chest heaving.

"i know it, pretty baby," he says, "but just think. two more and we'll have broken our record. ok?"

he dives back in, and almost immediately, your eyes scrunch together in pleasure, your climax hitting you like a wave of both relief and want. "ed-dieeee!" you scream, fisting the soaked sheets around you.

his mouth shifts to focus on your bud, his middle and index fingers easily slipping into you as he does. you want to tell him that the overstimulation is just too much, but that would be a lie. anything eddie did to your body was pure heaven, and saying otherwise would be a lie to both him and yourself.

"hhhhnnnggg fu-uck," you let out, prompting him to stop for just a moment. he pulls away, leaving a soft kiss on your sensitive mound, then another one just underneath your belly button.

"i know it, baby," he says again, looking up at you through dark eyes and even darker eyelashes, "you're being such a good girl f'me, aren't you?"

the only response you can let out is a gasp as his fingers dive back into your hole, a sight he could look at all day. only your pussy could swallow him absolutely perfectly like that.

"that's it, baby. i know it," he whispers, his tongue jutting out to lick at your clit. "you can do it, just one more. for me, ok?"

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @esoltis280

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hellfiremunsonn · 9 months

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Older!Eddie brain rot thanks to @carolmunson so here have this.

18+ below the cut you sluts! MINORS FUCK OUTTA HERE

Older!Eddie who knows how to use that smart fucking mouth of his. His face buried between your legs, salt and pepper stubble tickling the sides of your thighs.

He hasn’t even made you cum yet but you feel so good you keep trying to push his head off of you but he only holds onto you tighter.

“No, no, no, honey, you stay right here I’m not done with you” he’d growl, biting the plush of your thigh before diving right back into your slippery cunt. Mixed with your slick and his saliva.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, oh my god, please I-” you're panting, head tipped forward so your chin is touching your chest. The noises you're making are pathetic, high pitch and whiney, like some ‘teenage’ pornstar who is overdoing it for the theatrics, but every noise Eddie has pulled from you has been genuine.

Eddies watching you intently, fixated on the way your chest is rising rising and falling so quickly in short patterns, cheeks turning pink, brows furrowed. Eddie reluctantly pulls himself from you, hands smoothing up your stomach to get your attention.

Your eyes are watery, glassed over and desperate. Desperate to cum, desperate for him, desperate for him to make you cum.

“Breathe baby, you gotta calm down, breathe baby or you're going to pass out” he rests his chin on top of your pubic bone, looking up at you.

“I don’t care” you whine.

“No, no, you gotta calm down first”

you let out a hefty ‘hmp!’ pushing your hair away from your face and forcing yourself to calm your breathing. “Please” you say, wiggling your hips.

He can’t say no, and he’s convinced he’s going to get you to cum in less than a minute so he dives back in until he has you trembling in his grasp. Getting you screaming and creaming quickly, his fingers dipping harshly into your skin and you hope to god that he leaves bruises in their wake.

#hellfiremunsonn #Eddie Munson #older!eddie #Stranger Things #Eddie Munson blurb #hellfiremunsonn blurbs #Eddie Munson blurbs #Stranger Things blurbs #Stranger Things Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Stranger Things

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toomanybandstocare · 9 months

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Another one

Birthday cake for this one!

I rlly rlly rlly gotta talk to you more abt biker!eddie with a soft spoken/quiet reader.

Imagine hanging out with Eddie and his group at a pub and one asks you something and you reply, just in a ver quiet voice. They start picking on you about “speaking up” so eddie reminds them speaking up isn’t so nice. Eddie knows a lot of their secrets 👀

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა - Birthday Cake

Share a brainrot that you'd like to chat about! And we can make a little thread of the daydream/scenario we've created. @bellaramseysgf requested biker eddie...which very much reminds me of our mechanic thread as well hehe

Pairing: Biker! Eddie x Quiet! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, People are rude to reader

-> Celebration Announcement Post <- -> Celebration Masterlist <- -> Camp Upside Down Masterlist <-

Everyone at the Hideout knows you're Eddie's sweetheart. There's just no question about that. What many bar patrons murmur to themselves when you show up occasionally with him and his friends, is how the hell you two got together.

Eddie, clad in his leather biker jacket and fitted black jeans, is unapologetically himself and makes everyone aware of how he feels. Not one to shy away from a confrontation or aquatinting someone's face with his silver rings. Eddie commands a room without having to lift a finger so when he does throw hands, the entire bar knows something went down.

You? Sweetheart who hardly speaks a word and never without being spoken to. You most come to the bar when Corroded Coffin plays a gig where you sit at the corner of the bar closest to the stage so you can dance in your seat without drawing too much attention to yourself. In the few instances where a bar patrons has interacting with you, they've been in awe at how soft you are.

Either offering them a helping hand that makes them have butterflies in their stomaches or listening to their complaints with small pieces of advice that genuinely help. Yet even with your kindness, there are a few who grumble in jealousy or insecurity.

One evening when you join Eddie and the band at the bar, you tuck yourself under his arm and melt in complete comfort until the nerves gnawing at the back of your mind make you fidget. Your gaze flickers over the bar and your fingers tap the table. And you're body freezes as a few bar regulars lazily linger by your table and insert themselves into the conversation.

The casual chat about upcoming gigs or road trips now veer into dangerously personal territory. Their curious glances sharpen as their gazes target you and Eddie. As do their question.

How did you two meet?

What kind of dates do the two of you go on?

Is it any fun?

How does Eddie connect with someone so different to himself?

Opposites attract don't they?

But the two of you are so different. Doesn't Eddie want to be with someone who matches him better?

And the entire bar goes dead silent. The band had slowly straightened up in their seats through the progression of the questions, and their concerned glances shift from you to Eddie. Because if you're a taste of sunshine, Eddie's hurricane. His emotions brew and swirl inside of him as he determines his course of events.

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nancys4gf · 2 years

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hellfire shirt | mike wheeler

summary: mike looking pretty in his hellfire shirt.

pairing: mike wheeler x gender neutral reader

warnings: none

note: self indulgent because i just want to call mike pretty.

̟ ̇.˚︵‿୨♡୧‿︵˚.✩

the first time mike wore his hellfire shirt, he didn’t think it was anything special.

but as he sat next to you at lunch, talking about his plans for the weekend, you could only think about the way the black sleeves heightened his dark hair. or the way the white fabric complemented his pale skin, the slight red making his rosy lips stand out.

“what?” he suddenly stopped, noticing you weren’t paying attention.

you shook your head and told him to keep talking. with a shrug, he went on, complaining about losing his highest score at the arcade.

you tried your best to listen, but it was no use. the usual cafeteria turmoil faded away, as if anything that wasn't mike had gone blurry. you couldn’t take your eyes off him, completely enthralled by his movements.

finally, he rolled his eyes, resigned. “okay, you’re not listening to anything i’m saying.”

“i’m sorry,” you chuckled. “it’s just… you look pretty.”

“oh?” he breathed out, his eyes widening, lips slightly parting.

“i like it.” you pointed at his shirt, and he glanced down at it, the curls bouncing on his head. “you look pretty. it’s distracting.”

you had never called mike pretty before. he didn’t think anyone had ever called him pretty. but he liked it. a little too much.

“thanks.” he smiled, and even though he looked away in order to hide his face, you could still see the way his cheeks had turned pink.

you giggled, and asked him to continue with what he was saying. but he couldn’t remember. he didn't care, either. his heart pounded incessantly against his chest, your words echoing in his mind.

ever since, mike wore his hellfire shirt in hopes that you'd call him pretty again. and you did, every single time.

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latelyanobsession · 1 year

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I, J, K for the alphabet for Billy if we’re allowed to do more than one! Otherwise just i. Thank you 💕

I'll just do one for 'I' because you didn't specify SFW or NSFW so I'll do 'I' for each. SFW first, NSFW below the cut.

(gif not mine)

I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?)

Billy is not a fast guy to say those words. He's learned and internalized over his life that 'I Love You' doesn't keep people close. It doesn't prevent them from leaving. It doesn't prevent them from throwing fists and raising their voice. It's just a collection of words at best. Or an excuse for one's actions at worst. Billy is definitely a 'don't say it, show me' type of person for this reason.

He approaches most of his interpersonal relationships in a detached manner. He never expects, and especially never feels that he deserves anything from anyone. He's probably been reminded of that too many a time by his father. So he operates with his cards close to his vest, and barely one toe in the deep end because he's so sure nothing ever works out well for him. If you're gonna leave just go. If you're gonna smile but lie through your teeth, there's the door.

Things that get him to think about saying 'I Love You'? Staying. Proving his deep-held cynicism wrong and proving that those words aren't empty. Acts of devotion. Consistency in his life and transparency with your intentions. Show up, do the work and this boy might start planning how he's going to use those words he thought he'd never say.

I - Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Very much the same as above, intimacy is not something Billy spares much time for during sex. It's just sex. A way to meet a physical need, but he could care less about any soul-binding type of connection. Kisses may be there or they may not it depends on how lost in the moment he might get. If they are there animalistic, demanding, self-centered, and lust-forward. There is some flirting around the beginning and maybe light talk at the end, but there's no romance in between his sheets.

This is my personal opinion, however, I feel that intimacy in the sense of taking greater time, being fully present (mentally not just physically) with someone, seeking out touch or leaning into touch, kisses or hugs or squeezes that aren't linked to the act of sex itself but rather are purely due to proximity and longing.... I feel that Billy wouldn't comfortably reach or seek these things unless he was in a partnered relationship of some sort. Asking, yearning, or actually getting any of these things during sex confuses him and at times scares him. With a partner who he's built a lot of trust in though those walls could crumble and Billy might feel safe to both give and receive intimate moments.

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mgcldydrms · 1 year

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just imagine …

steve picks you up from work. you are so exhausted because you had to work overtime again hence you just want to get home, cuddle up to your boyfriend on the couch and watch one of your favourite movies. as soon as you get home, your boyfriend makes you sit down on the couch. "wait here", he says as he immediately walks over to the bathroom where he starts running a bath for you. while you're enjoying your bubble bath, steve prepares dinner for the two of you which you enjoy to the fullest while you sit in the living room, telling each other all about your day. after dinner, while steve brings back your dirty dishes, you make yourself more comfortable on the couch, instantly cuddling up to him once he sits next to you again. steve wraps his arm around you, pressing a kiss on top of your head while you two watch your comfort movie. you are way too comfortable, all cuddled up to your boyfriend, hence you couldn’t help but fall asleep. steve notices this right away, but lets you sleep until he gets tired as well. he picks you up carefully, carrying you up to your bedroom where he lays you down and joins you in bed right away, instantly wrapping his arms around you again.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #stranger things imagines #stranger things blurbs

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disturbedbeautywrites · 2 years

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Home - Steve Harrington Imagine

A/N: so I had a cute idea and decided to go for it.

Warnings: some mentions of Steve’s absent family. Other than that, just fluffy fluff

Steve sat next to you at your parents house, his arm lazily around your shoulders as you talked to your sibling. You’re nieces and nephews were running around, taking turns climbing on the furniture and all over all the adults in the room. “Sowwy!” The little voices rang out as Steve chuckled at them.

He was trying to get used to family gatherings with you, seeing as he didn’t get to have any with his own family. With his parents always being gone, he didn’t really get to experience stuff like this. Once he started dating you though, that changed.

“Alright guys, let’s all gather in the kitchen for pumpkin carving!” Your moms voice rang out through the house, getting the attention of everyone as the room shifted and people shuffled into the kitchen.

You finished your conversation with your sibling and turned to Steve, giving him a kiss on his cheek. “I love you so much. Thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was filled with love as you wrapped your arms around him. He pulled you into his body, his arms wrapping comfortably around you as his lips found the crown of your head.

“Babe, I love you more. But you don’t have to thank me. I love your family.” Steve kissed your forehead now, helping you stand up off the couch. He stretched, his eyes scanning the room as he did. His eyes landed on some pictures on the fireplace, frames around them as they were scattered around as decorations. He walked up to them, his eyes falling on one in particular.

It was a picture of the two of you, his arms wrapped around your legs as you were sitting on his back. You both were laughing, heads thrown back and massive smiles on your faces. The two of you looked so in love, and you were.

It gave Steve a slight pang in his chest at the sight of the picture of the two of you in your parents home. He grew up in a house that never felt homely. But here, he felt like he was a part of your family. It honestly made him feel so happy and safe. That was the best feeling he ever could have felt. He never grew up knowing that feeling and now that he found it with you, he never wanted to lose it.

“This is the kind of home I want our kids to grow up in.” Steve told you honestly, his eyes and words expressing his love for you. He pulled you close, kissing you gently. “I love you.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things blurbs #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic

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iveseenstrangerthings · 11 months

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family video romance - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: reader is becoming a regular customer at the family video and steve is always keen to help her out. some pining fluffy strangers to lovers which i thought of driving home from work lol. I might make a part two to this, just because I left it quite open.... I loved writing this, it took me a while I kept coming back and adding to it. enjoy :)

word count: 5.3k

warnings: some mild swearing, nothing else :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell atop the door cheers light-heartedly as you walk into Family Video. You absentmindedly drove here on your way home from work, wanting a familiar, comforting distraction from the sluggish day you had. Every fibre of your being just wants to go home, slot a tape into your crackly television and get lost in the fictional world of cinema.

You live for films. You laugh, cry, and get transported into the storyline so deeply that for the days afterwards you’re convinced you physically lived it.

So now as you breeze through the door, your qualms of the day seem to dissipate with every step you take. Slowly, you snake through the small aisles, stopping every so often at a film you haven’t taken out yet. Carefully, like it’s an ancient relic, turning the box over in your hand, studying the case, looking carefully at the actors and actresses and reading the blurb.

Down the next aisle, you stop and pick up Stand by Me, a film you’ve watched and rented multiple times, but always come back to. Your comfort film if you will. You’re about to move off onto the next aisle to study the new arrivals but are stopped in your tracks.

“That’s a really good choice,” Steve starts, leaning against the shelves of tapes with his arms crossed over.

You tap the box against your hand nervously, you’d seen him working before when you were in, always either sweeping or rearranging the same shelf of tapes, but you’ve never been served by him. He seems sweet, sort of careless, but sweet all the same. His hair always falls back into place after he’s drawn his hand through it roughly and his arms flex as he pushes the broom back and forth. Not that you’d noticed...

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, taken aback by the sudden conversation, “I mean, I’ve seen it a bunch of times but... just keep coming back to it.” The tapping against your palm slows as you see his eyes search your features, a sudden blush peppering your cheeks under his gaze. You’re realising now just how attractive he really is, and you find yourself becoming shy, almost nervous, in his presence. This isn’t how you pictured your movie shopping to go, you wanted to come in, grab some movies, and head home.

He clears his throat and points his thumb in the direction of another aisle, “Can I make some suggestions? Show you what’s popular?” He’s trying to be helpful, trying to be accommodating to you as a customer, but you’ve seen this act before with other girls in the store. Internally, you battle with yourself between just taking Stand by Me and leaving or entertaining the idea of some harmless conversation with... hang on. Your eyes trail to his name badge. Ah, Steve. Harmless conversation with Steve.

Eventually, after what you hope wasn’t too large of a pause, you nod, “Sure.”

You arrive at another section of video tapes and your eyes immediately go to the black VHS tape box facing forward with a small white ghost peeking through a red do not enter sign. He sees you looking at the cover and he picks it up, turning it over in his hands. “This is awesome. Have you seen it? It’s three dudes in New York City fighting off these weird ghouls with machines and they have to fight them off before they end up taking over the city.”

“Ghostbusters? Yeah, I’m sure everyone’s seen that.” You say with a slight laugh, finding it cute how he explained the premise of Ghostbusters, one of the biggest films from the previous few years.

He nods his head quickly before placing it back on the shelf, “Oh yeah, totally. Totally. It was a really-” He places it back so hastily that it knocks a couple other boxes onto the floor. He bends down swiftly and picks them all up before you can offer to help. “-Really popular movie. Yeah.”

“But hey, what’s the harm in watching it again?” Taking Ghostbusters from his hands, you look to the remaining boxes he has, and your eyes fall upon a case you’ve not seen before. “Is this one new?” You enquire, pointing to The Manhattan Project that’s nestled in Steve’s hands. He flips it over and studies the title for a second.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, this one’s pretty new,” he looks back at you and you’re looking back at him, waiting to see if he has anything else to say. “I haven’t seen it, though,” he adds, almost disappointingly, like he feels he’s shutting you out by not wowing you with any cinematic knowledge of new arrivals. “But, I mean, hey, cover’s cool,” he holds it out to you to have a look and you smile at him, taking the box and studying the blurb, actors and such.

Your lips turn down and you raise your eyebrows, “Yeah guess it’ll do. I’ll try it.”

“Oh, oh yeah. Sure. Yeah.” What the fuck, Steve? He thinks to himself. Is he now constricted to one syllable words? So far, he feels this encounter has been disastrous. After mansplaining one of the bestselling movies of ‘84, to knocking tapes from the shelf, to sputtering out single words. What’s happening to the smooth, flirtatious Steve that usually comes out in the presence of a pretty girl? But you’re not just pretty. You’re beautiful, and effortlessly so, almost intimidatingly so. Oh, come on Steve. It’s been ten minutes.

Whilst Steve cleans up the shelf, you can’t help but smile at how flustered he seems. It’s cute. You like it. Once his hands are empty, he doesn’t know what to do with them, so he commits to crossing his arms back over his chest again. “So...” You start, looking around at the few remaining aisles you haven’t ventured to yet. “Got anymore top grossing films to recommend that I will have most definitely seen?”

He smiles down at you, tightening his arms and shaking his head. “You’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?” His voice is playful, and you return his smile. You have him in the palm of your hand, you just don’t realise it.

“We’ll see.” You walk back past him now, towards the counter. The tiredness from the day flooding through your body like a strong current and you realise it’s time to head home. “I’ll just take these for today.”

You place the two on the counter and Steve puts them through the system for you. “Can I take your name? Just for the account,” he points at the screen, fingers ready to type in your name.

You give him your name and it etches into his brain. One he will certainly not forget. He makes a mental note to come back onto the system later and have a look through your recent rentals. That way, next time you come in, he won’t make an ass of himself with recommending films you’ve already seen. Or is that too weird?

“Oh, can I just ask?” You start your question as he places the two movies on the countertop before you, placing his hands on either side of them. His eyebrows raise in anticipation of your question. “Do you know if you’ll be getting Terms of Endearment in? I look for it every time I come in and I can never find it.”

Steve’s facial expression allows you to see the cogs whirring in his mind as he tries to work out what Terms of Endearment is. “Uh, I can’t say I’ve seen it. Is it a particular favourite of yours?”

“I love Jack Nicholson, I’d watch any film he’s in, but I would love to re-watch that one in particular. There was just something about it, you know?”

“Jack Nicholson...” He ponders the name for a moment, and you watch as he clicks his fingers as the name comes to him. “Oh!!” He exclaims. “Here’s Johnny?” A real lightbulb moment.

“Yes!” You beam, although that was also a very popular film, you’re not judging his, clearly limited, film knowledge.

“Uh, so to answer your question about the movie, I’m not sure. But I can definitely check it out for you,” his voice is confident and has grown slightly louder now that you’re back at the desk.

You nod back at him, grateful, whether his words mean anything, you’re unsure. But you can only hope. “Awesome. Well, alright,” You pause a moment, flicking to his name badge to make sure you remember his name correctly, although you’re kidding yourself because how could you forget it, “thank you for all your help, Steve.”

He waves a hand slowly at you as you turn to leave the store, turning round coyly as you exit the door and giving him a small, but noticeable, smile. After you’ve left the store feels unnaturally quiet, he stares at the space you were stood in for a few minutes, mulling over your exchange.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Harrington.” Robin jeers from the door of the back office where she’s been sat shuffling return forms into organised piles.

Steve quickly changes his posture and walks to the office, leaning his frame against the door and puffing his cheeks out. “She was quite something.” His eyes are fixated on one spot on the floor, replaying your conversation in his head.

“She was in last week,” Robin admits, trailing her pencil over a form ensuring it’s been filled out correctly, but her face sours meaning some obvious piece of information has been missed out.

“She was?” Steve retorts.

Robin looks up, her face still soured from the dodgy form, “Uh, yeah. She has a pretty memorable face.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise, “Same time last week?”

“What? Why are you asking that?” She huffs and places her fingers on her forehead, gently massaging it. “Please don’t turn into creepy stalker Steve now. She seems nice, not like those other air heads you usually go for. Plus, she seems to know her shit about movies. Unlike you, dingus.”

Steve looks offended for a glimmer of a second before softening his features, knowing Robin made a very valid point, about the girls, and the movies. He quickly thinks to change the subject before being personally attacked any further by his co-worker, and closest friend. “Hey, do you know anything about the film ‘Terms of Endowment?’” He questions sincerely, and confidently.

Robin stares at him in awe, what have you done to him? “Firstly, I think you mean ‘Endearment’,” Robin takes in Steve’s defiant features, he will be adamant he had the name right, but Robin’s doing him a favour and correcting it for him before he messes it up in front of you. “And secondly, no we do not, nor have we ever, had that for rental.”

“How do we get it?” He retorts, brushing off his poor memory for the name of the film.

She shrugs impatiently, tired of being roped into Steve’s romantic tropes that always end in a ghosting. But there is a steady glimmer of hope in Robin for this one. “I don’t know, get in touch with head office or something.” Before the conversation can go any further, she returns to her forms and Steve whirls out to the phone, dialling the number for head office and requesting one copy of the film to be delivered to the Family Video.

✦ ✦ ✦

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t on edge every time the doorbell jingled as a new customer entered. Wherever he was in the store, he would look over eagerly to check if it was you. But much to his dismay, you hadn’t been back for over a week. A couple of times, when he clocked on for his shift, he would check the records on the computer to see if you had returned the three films whilst he hadn’t been working, but they still showed as out for rental, meaning you hadn’t returned, and he hadn’t missed you. He’s kind of hoping you wait it out a few more days though, as the copy of your movie still hasn’t arrived. After some pathetic begging and pleading with head office, they agreed to send a copy out to the Hawkins store when Steve had convinced them it would absolutely get rented.

It’s a cold, October evening and the weather is atrocious. All day there had been steady ribbons of rain cascading from the sky and painting the pavement in a slick sheen. Steve and Robin sit as a couple of shoppers aimlessly float the aisles, munching on a bag of chips behind the counter. “Reckon we could close early?” Robin probes, hoping Steve will say yes, she eyes the keys in the pot underneath the counter.

Steve’s still holding out hope he will see you today, so, reluctantly, he refuses.

“Come on!” Robin whines, shoving another handful of broken chips into her mouth. “It’s a Friday night, almost Halloween, surely there’s better things we can be doing with our time.” Robin says through a mouthful of dry chips, yet to be chewed, and Steve looks over at her with slight feigned disgust.

“Be my guest and go, but I don’t fancy getting another warning letter from head office about us closing up early,” Steve holds his hands up in protest.

“Steve, that was one time,” Robin retorts, her embarrassment at the memory showing on her cheeks in a light pink flush.

“You closed the shop four hours early because Vickie was practising band at-” He stops mid-sentence as a figure appears in the doorway and the familiar jingle of the bell rings out. The sound of the rain pummelling the sidewalk enters the quiet ambience of the shop as you step through the door, removing your sodden hood when you’re in the warmth. As you turn around, you’re met with welcoming smiles from Robin and Steve. You return the gesture, trying to supress the butterflies erupting into a wild storm in your stomach, and elope into the familiar comfort of the aisles before you.

“Go on then, jackass,” Robin whispers, folding away the rest of the chips.

“No, not straight away. I’ll look too keen,” he hisses as he rummages around loose papers to make himself look remotely busy, Robin’s face is a picture of bewilderment as she shakes her head and sets off for the back office.

Fifteen minutes pass and Steve still hasn’t wandered over to you. He can see you, stealing glances over the top of the stands as you aimlessly look for another film. But it’s like someone has cemented his feet to the carpeted floor, he just doesn’t move.

You’re hoping that he’s just busy, that he wants to come over and chat with you again, but he’s staying put behind the desk and a disappointment nestles itself deep in the pit of your stomach you know it’ll be hard to shift. After reasoning with yourself for another five minutes, you make your way over to the counter and place the tapes for return on the top, letting him meander over to you from where he was resting by the computer. His heart sinks as he realises, he’s left it too late and now you’ll be leaving soon.

“Hey! Good to see you again,” he smiles broadly at you, not letting his internal beatings show on his beaming face. The first thing he notices however, is your shiny eyelids, caressed with deep, dark eyelashes that beautifully darken your lustrous eyes. He wonders if you’re made up for someone else, maybe for a date. Shake it off Steve and get on with it.

You push the tapes towards him and return his hello, “Just returning these.”

He peers at the tape you’re holding to your chest, “Poltergeist 2, huh?” He questions as he taps the return details into the computer with satisfying clicks. “You uh...” he taps the spacebar a couple of times before turning his head back to look at you, “you watching that alone or..?” His question trails off as he kicks himself for asking such an intrusive question.

Your brows knit together at his question, “Yeah, I mean, it’s almost Halloween so. I figured I’d watch something spooky.” Drumming a beat, your nails tap against the countertop almost impatiently, unbeknownst to you having just skipped over the biggest hint ever.

He purses his lips and nods tightly before turning back and reaching for the VHS tape you still hold close to your chest. “Oh, sorry,” you mumble as you pass him the tape. As you do so, your fingertips briefly linger over one another and your eyes meet instantaneously, your cheeks warming under his gaze before you avert your eyes elsewhere. The sounds of him tapping away at the keyboard fill the air shortly after and it fills the silence.

“I see why you like Jack Nicholson so much,” he starts, “rented a couple over the last week and I gotta say, he’s a pretty awesome dude.”

A slight laugh escapes your lips as you take the Poltergeist 2 from him and place it in your bag. “Right?!” Your words seep with enthusiasm and his heart gradually quickens as he hears the sing-song fill your voice. A warmth fills you like a whistling kettle at the thought of him going out of his way to watch movies with your favourite actor. Or, you could just be reaching here, and it doesn’t mean anything. “He’s just, so enthralling, you know? Anything he does I enjoy.”

He ponders this for a moment as his fingers glide over his chin repeatedly, “I wasn’t a fan of Missouri Breaks, but was a big fan of The Postman Always Rings Twice.”

Your eyebrows slowly sneak up at Steve, “Because of Jessica Lange?”

Slightly, hid head quirks to one side and, innocently, he says, “Who?”

“Never mind.” You dismiss the comment with a wave of your hand and tap the counter, ready to announce your departure.

He stretches his arm, rubbing the back of his head so his bicep flexes slightly and you have to use all your willpower not to stare at the muscles contracting so effortlessly under his skin. “You uh-” he starts, “you look nice.” He rests his hand now on the counter, close to your own. “Well, you looked nice the other week, I just mean tonight you look better than usual.” His eyes widen quickly, and he shoots his hands forward in defence. “Not that you didn’t look nice! I just mean tonight you look... tonight you look beautiful.”

You genuinely don’t know what to say. As cliche as it sounds, you’ve never been called beautiful by anyone before. Well, yeah, your grandma often peppers you with kisses and calls you her ‘beautiful ray of sunshine’, but not anyone like Steve. For a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the feeling you almost feel nervous, like you just want to get out of the situation. Not because you don’t appreciate the compliment, but because you’ve never been in this situation before and just genuinely don’t know how to act. In your chest, your heart hammers wildly and you fear it will leap out onto the counter between the pair of you. An intense heat pools across your cheeks, one which is entirely noticeable, and Steve immediately worries he’s overstepped some unspoken boundary between the two of you.

Before you wish to make it anymore awkward by your utter incompetence to receive compliments, you push back from the counter, smile awkwardly, and turn to leave. “Have a nice night, Steve,” is all you can muster before you reach the door to leave.

After you’ve left, the cemented feeling returns, and he does not shift from his spot behind the counter. Alone with his thoughts, he realised he must’ve said something to upset you, because the look on your face was like he’d just shared some deep, disgusting secret with you. But it was just a compliment? One that, albeit they are disingenuous, the girls love. But this one he meant it, this one he wanted to see the bashful look seep over your features, but it was quite the opposite.

✦ ✦ ✦

Steve’s pen hovers over the scrap of paper, he’s been staring at it for five minutes mulling over the right note to write for you. Your copy of Terms of Endearment arrived the other day and he’s itching to give it to you. He resumes his familiar position by the cash register, waiting for your familiar figure to come through the door and grace the shop with your presence. But there’s been a deep pit of anxiety forming in his stomach as his worries grow that he colossally fucked up the last time you were in.

After a few more minutes of mulling it over, he finally decides to write his number on the paper and underneath, written in his scrawl:

‘Because I know you’ll ask, yes. Yes, I did cry. Great recommendation. - Steve x’

He cringes slightly at himself, but then shrugs the thought off and pops open the case for the tape, lying the note on the top before snapping it back shut and placing it underneath the counter, ready for when you come back in.

A few days later, he misses the door opening and it’s you who approaches first. He’s stood with his back to you, sorting tapes and making notes on his clipboard on stock. Over the last week, you’ve been building yourself up to going in and seeing Steve. You kept looking at yourself in the mirror and telling yourself to take Steve’s compliment. Accept it, believe it, and believe he might feel something for you. You even talked to your mom about it, and she was thrilled, you could already see her picking out a wedding hat but you rolled your eyes anytime she asked anything else.

So, now as you walk over to him you tap him on the shoulder lightly and he turns, face solemn until he realises it’s you.

“y/n! Hey. It’s good to see you.” He smiles broadly and it reaches his eyes, a real genuine smile.

You return it sincerely and grip the tapes tighter to your chest, almost as a defence mechanism between the pair of you. “Yes, you too. It’s been a while.” You stand looking up at him, gazing more like, “you been busy?”

It only occurs to him now that this is really the first time you’ve made any effort to make small talk. “Busy? Uh, yeah. We have been actually; Halloween rush is over so we will probably be getting all the Christmas movies in soon.”

Your heart swells at the thought of Christmas movies.

“How about you? Get up to anything exciting over Halloween?” He hasn’t seemed to want to break away eye-contact since he laid eyes on you.

You shake your head and hold your arms up a little higher, “Hell no. I’ve come to get my next fix.”

He laughs slightly and places his clipboard under his arm, “Oh! Sure yeah, come on over and I’ll return those for you.”

You both make your way over to the counter and you place your returns on the top, sliding them along for Steve to process. He scans them swiftly back in and places them in a small pile to be placed back out on the shelves. Unbeknownst to Steve, you watch his hands as they work, flipping the covers open to ensure the tape has been returned, scribbling notes onto the sheet and then typing away onto the computer.

Once he’s finished his routine for returns, he faces you again with a smirk on his face, like a kid who’s walked into the best candy store around. Your stomach tightens and he clears his throat, “I have something for you.”

The knot in your stomach is pulled painfully tight, your stomach clenches and your heart leaps as he reaches under the counter and pulls out Terms of Endearment, sliding it along the counter for you. Your eyebrows raise with happiness and your eyes grow wide, “How did you- Where-?” You almost can’t believe the store finally has it in, you figured it’d come in on one of their recent deliveries.

“I rang head office, had to speak to them a couple times, but I asked if they’d send a copy out here.” He looks pleased with himself, and so he should. Nobody has ever done anything like that for you, yes it might have been easy to get a hold of, but still. He slides it further towards you, urging you to take it so you pick it up. As usual, you inspect the box and turn it over gently in your hands. He watches as you do so, seeing the routine so familiar it makes his heart swell. You are so precious. You go to hand it back to him and he frowns.

“For you to scan!” When you see his frown, your expression changes too and you tilt your head slightly.

“It’s yours. I don’t need to scan it, that’s your copy.” He states it matter of factly and instinctively your hand goes over your chest.

“My copy?” Your head stays tilted like a puppy trying to register a new sound.

He nods slowly and laughs a puff of air, “Yeah! Your copy. I knew you liked it, loved Jack Nicholson, and couldn’t get it anywhere so... yeah. You can keep it. Yours to enjoy at your leisure.”

Instinctively, you clench your hands around the box, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Oh Steve... That’s...” Your eyes lock together, and you will this not to be the last time, “that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You pause, “I know it’s not that deep or whatever but yeah that’s just super thoughtful Steve, thank you.” You waggle the tape in between the two of you, eyes still boring into one another and his smile stretches across his face again, lighting up his eyes.

“I uh, I watched it too. Just to see what the hype was about, you know?” He quickly adds, “Oh and don’t worry, I wound the tape all the way back for you.”

You laugh slightly, “How thoughtful.” Where his hand is resting on the desk, you quickly take it in yours and give it a squeeze, you don’t know what came over you, the sudden rush of confidence, but you’ve finally broken the unspoken barrier between the pair of you. “Seriously Steve,” you start as you place your hand back over the box, “thank you so much.”

His cheeks bare a mild tinge of pink, from the sudden contact earlier, “You’re so welcome.” Realising you haven’t taken out a new film for you to return in future, his eyebrows knit together. “Will I see you again?”

“Of course you will, I’ll be back soon for my next fix of cinema, and you best have more box office favourites to recommend for me.”

Another laugh escapes his lips and he bows his head slightly, “Damn... Still not letting me live that down?”

You shake your head as you push back from the counter and head back for the door, “Hell no.” You give him a small wave as you reach the exit, “See you soon.”

He lifts his hand and returns your wave, smiling softly as you disappear back out into the bright daylight. Now, he just has to wait and see if you call...

✦ ✦ ✦

Later that night, Steve’s phone in his bedroom rings with a metallic shrill and he jumps out of his skin. Lurching forward, he dives at the phone and yanks it from the stand, “Hello?”

On the other end of the phone, you’re taken aback by the utter speed at which he answered, but in a way, it makes your stomach tense in adoration. “Hey, Steve? It’s (y/n), from the video store.”

Although he’s been keeping himself within reach of his phone since he returned from work, he’s kind of surprised you’ve rang. He smiles at the fact you felt you needed to clarify where he knew you from, as if the pure sound of your voice wouldn’t be enough. “Hey.” He starts softly, “I’m glad you called.”

You sit and wrap the cord so tightly around your fingers you can feel the tip of your finger throb, “Yeah I,” your voice comes out slightly horse, so you quickly clear your throat, “I wanted to straight away, when I saw your note. Which was cute, by the way.” Your cheeks redden at the admission.

“Cute, huh?” He toys back with you, and he crosses his leg over to stop his knee from bouncing wildly with nerves. You’re both a pile of nerves, it’s almost laughable. “So have you watched your new film yet?”

“No, that’s why I was calling actually I-”

He frowns, assuming the worst, and cuts you off accidentally, “Ah shit is there something wrong with it? Have I fucked the tape up?”

You pause for a moment, frowning slightly and unravelling the cord before you lose all feeling in your finger, “Oh, no no no. No, not at all. I haven’t actually watched it yet I was wondering if, if maybe you wanted to come and watch it with me?” Silence. He’s stunned that you’ve taken the leap and asked, he was convinced he was going to be the one to ask to make plans. You take his silence as polite rejection, imagining him pondering some lame excuse. “Never mind I knew it was stupid to ask, I’m sorry if I was too forward or whatever I’ve-”

This time he cuts you off before you spiral even more into territory where you simply don’t need to go, “No, hey, hey.” He cuts you off gently, “I would love to.”

“Really?” Your shock rings through the receiver.

“Really.” He confirms, relaxing back into his chair, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth overcome him.

You sigh audibly and it ruffles through into Steve’s ear, he smiles gently at just how precious you are. “My mom is in though, don’t worry. I don’t wanna give off the wrong impression.”

“Hey, (y/n), you could never. Where abouts will I find your humble abode then?”

A rush of giddiness flies through you and you physically shudder as if a bolt of electricity has just been pulsed through your spine. You relay your address to Steve, giving him some minor directions around town and he hums in recognition. He recognised the street name as the one behind Mike’s, so at least he already knows where to go, sort of.

“I’ll leave the porch light on for you?” Your intonation peaks like you’re posing a question. “And I’ll keep an eye out for your car, too.” Because you know from the moment you hang up, you’re going to be sat watching the window in anticipation for him arriving.

“Awesome, yeah. Awesome,” Here he is, back to repeating singular words. Hey, at least these ones were two syllables. “Am I good to come around now?”

You nod enthusiastically, “Of course! Yeah, that’s totally fine.”

Again, he smiles to himself and gets ready to wrap the conversation up so he can see you quicker. “Awesome.” Again? Seriously? “Looking forward to seeing you soon, (y/n).”

The sound of his voice, confident but caring and gentle, fills your ear and you can’t believe you made the move. Well, technically he made the move by leaving his phone number in the box, but you’ve made the plans.

“Me too, Steve. Drive safe!” You add before placing the telephone gently down against the stand. For a few seconds, you stare at the phone as if it’s an otherworldly item, come from outer space and you’re trying to figure out how it works. But really, you’re just replaying the conversation over again, making yourself believe what’s happening. You feel happy, overwhelmed, slightly nervous but excited all at the same time, you almost feel like you need to splash your face with freezing water to wake yourself up. But you’re awake, you haven’t dreamt it and Steve will be here soon to enjoy being in your presence. Because he likes you and he wants to spend time with you, because you were yourself, and he’s started to fall hard and fast. Not that you know that yet, of course.

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yourmidnightlover · 2 years

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Hey Jay! How are you? So, I’d like to request number 30.“why can’t you tell me you love me?”, it feels like an angsty kind of phrase to me, so maybe angst with a happy ending with Steve Harrington? Maybe reader is scared of falling in love or something…? Thank you!

i’m well, i’ve been sick the past week but i’m making it hahaha! how’ve you been?

i was thinking the EXACT same thing! this line is seriously begging for angst and i’m a fiend for it.

prompt list can be found here if you’d like to make a request <3

warnings: there’s fluff, then angst, then fluff again!, kissing, a kind of food fight?, reader has a panic attack, mentions of a rough household-nothing too detailed, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: i already feel so bad bc this gif is so disheartening! look at poor stevie. he just wants to be loved :( this also kinda reminds me of a fic i posted not too long ago. it’s called this one time with a mayfield!reader, and i’m working on a part 2 for it rn ;)

you froze. you froze as soon as he said the words. how could you not?

let’s rewind a bit…

it was just another night with steve. you had been dating for nearly three months, your relationship having started after all of the vecna nonsense came to a very open close. since beginning as friends, you both realized the feelings you had for one another went far beyond platonic.

as soon as the reunion between the groups commenced, he had began spouting off how he couldn’t lose you, promising you a date once things cooled down a little. in no time, you had become infatuated with one another.

you would often go over to his house to lounge around, study for classes, or simply sleep over. when he came over to your house he found your family rather standoffish, hence why he didn’t come over often. they reminded him of his own parents, arguing all the time.

you didn’t like it when he came over.

but when you were in his arms, curled up in his bed, you felt safe. you would play with his fingers as they danced on your skin. you would play with his hair as he rested in your lap. you would listen to his laugh vibrating through his chest.

you felt peace with him.

he was the closest thing you had to…

but tonight, as you tried to make dinner with him, failing miserably, something was different. it may have been an affect from burning the pasta sauce, or maybe it was because the meatballs were like rocks, but the air had changed, and not necessarily in a bad way.

“you’re ridiculous!” he called out as he fished out a piece of charred tomato from the bottom of the pot it was in. “how did you manage to burn the sauce?” he laughed heartily.

“i dunno!” you walked over to the meatballs. “a better question is why are these things so… tough?” you picked one up, crumbling it between your fingers.

“honey,” he walked over to you, placing a hand on your waist. “i’m sorry to break it to you, but, i don’t think you’re a very good chef,” you but back a laugh before grabbing a meatball, crumbling it before tossing it in your boyfriends face.

“ha,” you have a smug grin to him before wiggling out of his grasp. once your back was turned, for no longer than three seconds, you felt your boyfriends finger rubbing the burnt sauce across your cheek. “you. did. not!” you gasped as you turned to face him before grasping the sides of his face, turning it to smudge the pasta sauce on his face as well. “they say sharing is caring, right?!”

“oh, sweetheart,” he laughed before bringing his other hand to your cheek, effectively smearing the sauce all over your face. “you have plenty, dontcha think? if anything you’re hogging the sauce.”

you connected your lips with his this time, being sure to connect your lips with his cheek and neck after to spread the sauce over him. “some would say i’m quite generous,” you sassed with a bright grin.

his hands were cupping your messy face, “god, i am so in love with you.”

you froze. you froze as soon as he said the words. how could you not?

after a second, your smile began to diminish, your heart racing. his was doing the same. your brows furrowed as if you were lost in thought before you backed into the island. you took a deep breath, feeling panic settle in.

“hey,” steve said calmly. “calm down, breathe,” his hand rested on your shoulder as he used the other to guide your breathing. “i’m here. breathe.”

“steve-i,” you took another breath. “i have to go…” you nudged out of his grasp and didn’t bother cleaning your face before walking out of his door.

once you got to your car, you realized you couldn’t go home. your dad wasn’t away on work this week. there would be nothing but turmoil and chaos at your house. there was one other safe spot for you to go to. you used old wipes left in your car to wipe pasta sauce off your face before driving.

you went to the hill cerebro was once stationed on. it was the place you and steve went for your first date. it was the first place you had sex. there were nothing but good memories attached to it. it was… everything. yet somehow you couldn’t help but cry.

you sat on the ground, not even bothering looking up to the beautiful moon, toying with the overgrown weeds while crying your eyes out. why couldn’t you just be normal.

you love him. you love him more than anything. how could you just let him stand there, a saddened look in his eyes when you said nothing at all.

you ruined the best thing in your life because you were too much of a coward to say some words. you just didn’t want to end up like your parents, saying some words but not acting upon it. love in your house meant anger and frustration and brokenness.

steve deserved better. he deserved the best.

after around half an hour of moping, you heard a car engine turnover down the hill. your heart started racing, nobody ever came to the hill, that’s why it was your special spot.

“y/n!” you heard steve’s voice ring out worriedly. “y/n, i know you’re here,” you saw him walking towards you, a blanket in hand as his face softened upon seeing you. “hey,” he stilled as he approached you.

“hi,” you sniffled, using your sleeve to wipe your tears.

“i brought us a blanket,” he took a step closer. “if there still is an us?”

“yes, steve,” you sighed, soft sobs leaving your lips. “of course there’s still an us. there will always be an us.”

he sat beside you, wrapping the blanket around the both of your shoulders. “why-why can’t you tell me you love me? i know you do. i know you do. so why can’t you just… just say it?”

“steve,” you rested your head on his shoulder. “growing up, my parents said it all the time. but they were so hateful to one another. they were spiteful, and rude, and they would yell, and i don’t want that to be our fate!” you ranted out, feeling his hand gently massaging your shoulder. “you deserve better than to have the rest of your life all mixed up because of me.”

“you are nothing like them,” he reminded you, resting his cheek on your head. “you are kind, and patient, and courageous, and sure, you’re stubborn, but that’s in the best way possible,” he brought out a smile in you. “just because that’s how they are, that does not mean that’s how we’re going to end up, not if we have anything to do about it.”

“i’m sorry,” you cried out, letting his shirt catch your tears. “i am, y’know?”

“you what?” he teased. “oh, i know you’re stubborn, always have. it’s no secret, sweetheart,” you shoved his shoulder back once more before repositioning yourselves.

you sat straddling his lap, your legs on either side of him as your hands cupped his face, “i am in love with you.”

his smile was brighter than you’d ever seen before he moved his face closer to yours, connecting your lips with passion. sealing the promise of a happy future, of patience, and kindness, and love, with a kiss.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #prompts #stranger things prompt #stranger things blurb #stranger things blurbs #stranger things angst

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hornyhornyhimbos · 1 year

Note

EMMY MY LOVE

I'm so excited for your freaky friday posts you don't even understand! So in honor of that and us being whores, may i request c0ckwarming with Eddie after a hard day. I've talked with you a little bit about how my mental health is no bueno rn. And just coming home after a long day of class and exams to come sit on his dick while he plays video game or whatever is so hot and comforting. Maybe falling asleep curled up on his chest and him just looking at you all full of love saying something like "ill never get tired of holding you". Also daddy kink...if you're comfy with it. I went on a tangent sorry love

you are so real for this 😌✋🏻

pov: eddie helps his sleepy little girl get some rest after a long day 🫶🏻

18+ duh, AFAB!reader, cockwarming, unprotected piv sex, slight somno but not really, cum eating, daddy kink obviously, nicknames (baby, good girl, angel; daddy)

filthy fridays | ask box

your body felt heavy as you trudged through the door and into your apartment, tossing your backpack in the general direction of the hook it normally hung from.

as you slipped out of your shoes, inked arms snaked around your waist, a pair of familiar lips making contact with your neck. "bad day, baby?" eddie asked, your exhaustion apparent on your face.

"mhm," you pouted, swiveling your head to face him. you barely puckered your lips out for a kiss before he caught your drift, his plump lips landing on yours.

he tugged both of you toward the couch, pulling you into him as he hit the cushions. "wanna talk about it?"

you shook your head, allowing yourself to fall into the familiar scent of his embrace. your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, leaving a ghost of a kiss on his soft skin.

he held you like that for a moment, running a hand over your hair, letting you decompress in his arms. his lips met the shell of your ear, nibbling at the spot you loved most.

"you need daddy to fix it, hmm? make you forget all about how bad your day was?" he said in a whisper, finishing his question with yet another soft kiss.

you nodded, the only thing it seemed you could do at that moment. however, eddie, being ever the gentleman, softly demanded, "use your words, please. i won't make you say anything else. just need to know you absolutely want this, ok?"

you gave him a soft smiled, letting out a content sigh. "please, daddy. make me forget today."

he lifted you up from the couch, just long enough to remove your pants and undies, kissing a trail up your leg and ending at your now sensitive clit.

you shook your head, your legs squeezing shut around him. "uh-uh," you tutted, and he met you with confused eyes.

"what is it, baby? let daddy know what you need," he cooed, placing a hand softly on your thigh.

"need you," you answered softly, struggling to get the words out. "wanna sit on your cock."

without hesitation, he slid out of his jeans and boxers, before pulling both of you back down onto the sofa. "good girl, always telling me what you want."

he tugged at your hips, helping you settle on his cock, your mouth falling open as he eased into you. you fell onto his chest, your walls spasming as his dick bottomed out.

"you need daddy to fuck you to sleep?" he asked before leaving a peck on your forehead. "or are you good like this?"

"this," you answered, your arms resting over his shoulders as you lay your head on his chest, a smile appearing on your lips as you basked in the closeness.

one of his hands rested on your butt while the other sat on your hip, rubbing soft circles into the bare skin. he pulled your top over your head before peppering your shoulder with kisses. "such a good girl," he whispered against your collarbone, "keeping daddy's cock all warmed up. could never get tired of holding you like this, baby."

his lips wandered across every inch of exposed skin he had access to, leaving open-mouthed kisses in all the places he knew you loved most. his hand moved from your hip, his fingertips gliding up and down your back, taking the time to memorize every freckle, every mole, and every divot of your spine.

you weren't sure how much time had passed when your eyes started to slowly fall closed, and you weren't sure you could stay awake for much longer. not that you'd need to, though. with eddie, you were safe, and you were home. he'd protect you no matter the cost, because you were his girl.

"you ok like this, baby?" he inquired again, his lips meeting your skin for the millionth time.

slowly, you shook your head, your lips falling into a pout once more.

"what's wrong?" his lips pecked at your collarbone again.

through nearly closed eyes, you whispered, "want daddy to fuck me to sleep."

he smiled softly, holding your hips tightly. "gonna flip us, ok? daddy's not gonna hurt you. promise."

with that, you nodded your head as he flipped the two of you over, his large, tatted body hovering over you, and your head sinking back into the cushions.

he slowly pulled out, and the friction felt so nice that you almost came right then. his lips met the crook of your neck as he slid back into you, eliciting the softest moan from your lips.

"feel good, baby?" he asked, suckling on your sensitive skin.

you nodded, reaching for his hand ever so lightly. you didn't even need to say the words—since he already knew what you wanted—before he interlaced his fingers with yours, pushing your hand against the sofa.

he fucked into you slow and sweet, and before you knew it, you were fluttering around him, your orgasm washing over you like a wave of relief. your eyes slowly closed, and the last thing you felt before you fell asleep was his dick twitching inside of you, on the brink of his own release.

"sleep tight, baby," he smiled against your forehead, holding back a string of profanities as he spilled inside of your hole. "such a good girl, angel."

he removed himself, and even in your sleep, you pouted at the emptiness. he chuckled to himself before his mouth met your cunt, licking up every last bit of his cum, nearly becoming hard again as your body squirmed in your sleeping state.

he pulled his pants back on before hovering over you again, leaving one last peck on your hairline, and pulling your favorite throw blanket over your dreaming body. "sweet dreams, daddy's sleepy girl."

-> taglist: @rupsmorge @dungeons-are-too-cold @esoltis280

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