herstarburststories - Tumblr blog

[herstarburststories]

my monstrous boy (Coriolanus Snow x reader)

Summary: Coriolanus Snow is a monstrous boy. He's cold, merciless, brutal. And you love him. God, you love him so much. But what happens when you love a monster?

Disclaimers: angst. so much. but don't worry, the next one will be smutty.

A/N: Hello, requests are open skkskskka.

A monster is what it is. People won't beat an eye at their doings, they won't elaborate on why they are what they are. Some seeds come just bad, they say, and you're in luck when it doesn't fuck up the three.

But what does it make the person who loves the monster? What does it mean to be so intertwined to something evil? So in love with someone who wears cruelty like a fancy perfume?

Well, you've discovered it.

Loving a monster means all the love get bloodstains on it. As it comes to Coriolanus Snow, loving him means washing the stains of blood with the water in the river by the Hanging Tree.

The eldest Snow came to you in the dead of the night, blue eyes fading into anything but the mening of the color. You could print out so many emotions there, mostly shock and fear.

But there was no regret.

Looking back, that should've pushed you asay from Coriolanus. But when he trembled like he's nothing but human, you fooled yourself into beliving that he was a victmin of the circumstances.

Perhaps, he was. In the begining. You remember his childhood stories like tales of war. A kid can't leave that violence withour swallowing part of it. Snow was made to be tough, but he was never violent, he would never—

“Ouch.” he grumbles, a sight of disposture that he's not used to display in fromt of anyone but his family, and you.

It's an open wound. It's a bleeding reminder that somebody tried to fight back and lost his life to him.

“I'm sorry.” the words rott in your tongue, you spit them out anyway. “But that's the least of your problems.”

Silence. You can feel him studying you, analyzing you as if you're a lesson he can crack if he just tries hard enough. You don't lift your head, the eyes that once gave you comfort now make you nauseous.

You don't want to watch him lose his humanity like one of the tributes. You don't want to see Coriolanus become someone else.

But does one become something? Or has he always been as this?

“Are you scared of me?” direct, crude, as usual. He may not have the purity of Snow, but he's clear as one. There are no hidden meanings, no interpreter behind the door. He grabs your chin to make you look up at him, “Are you scared of me?”

The answer comes as a rather accusatory ask, “How many people have you killed?”

Quietude.

You can only hear his rapid breathing. You take a glance at him, only for the lavish boy to spare his head away. As if in shame, as if hiding.

When he's scared, he looks awfully lot like the man you swore to die with. Lately, living with him has been a harder oath to keep.

“It doesn't matter. I did this for you and us. We are free.” His tone takes up all the space of an answer. You know Snow doesn't want to talk about what happened, yet you can't stop your words.

“How much death is in your hands, Coriolanus?”

There, sitting in the mud while he bleeds, the man looks at you, and all you can see his a monster. The pieces coming together to make a image of destruction in your head, one inflected by the hands that always caressed you so gently.

He doesn't answer. Coriolanus just remains there, gazing inside your eyes. You don't leave him. You fool yourself thinking, maybe the monster is just trying to protect the boy. You know what he has seen, you still think it's not justified and—

And when he reaches out to place his hand on yours, his palm hand on contrast with his gelid nature, you are smitten, docile, even.

Love, you know, is the easiest way to perish.

Always good to the signals, Coriolanus leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

It's also the best way.

A couple decades have ended. Your love has turned into blood on the snow: red, vicious, rotten. Yin and yang were never attracted, they crashed into each other, they destroyed parts of each other to make home for themselves.

Coriolanus Snow is the president. He gets redder eveqrytime. You still wash his weary hands, hoping someday you'll drown in the blood and be forgiven for being in love with cruelty.

You don't know what loving a monster makes you anymore.

But when the mockingjay cries in the cage, that's a lot like what you feel those days.

Author's: hello!! I'm just started writing this, so please give me some comments and reblogs.

TAGLIST OPEN for Coriolanus Snow x reader. Send a dm or comment to add.

[herstarburststories]

my monstrous boy (Coriolanus Snow x reader)

Summary: Coriolanus Snow is a monstrous boy. He's cold, merciless, brutal. And you love him. God, you love him so much. But what happens when you love a monster?

Disclaimers: angst. so much. but don't worry, the next one will be smutty.

A/N: Hello, requests are open skkskskka.

A monster is what it is. People won't beat an eye at their doings, they won't elaborate on why they are what they are. Some seeds come just bad, they say, and you're in luck when it doesn't fuck up the three.

But what does it make the person who loves the monster? What does it mean to be so intertwined to something evil? So in love with someone who wears cruelty like a fancy perfume?

Well, you've discovered it.

Loving a monster means all the love get bloodstains on it. As it comes to Coriolanus Snow, loving him means washing the stains of blood with the water in the river by the Hanging Tree.

The eldest Snow came to you in the dead of the night, blue eyes fading into anything but the mening of the color. You could print out so many emotions there, mostly shock and fear.

But there was no regret.

Looking back, that should've pushed you asay from Coriolanus. But when he trembled like he's nothing but human, you fooled yourself into beliving that he was a victmin of the circumstances.

Perhaps, he was. In the begining. You remember his childhood stories like tales of war. A kid can't leave that violence withour swallowing part of it. Snow was made to be tough, but he was never violent, he would never—

“Ouch.” he grumbles, a sight of disposture that he's not used to display in fromt of anyone but his family, and you.

It's an open wound. It's a bleeding reminder that somebody tried to fight back and lost his life to him.

“I'm sorry.” the words rott in your tongue, you spit them out anyway. “But that's the least of your problems.”

Silence. You can feel him studying you, analyzing you as if you're a lesson he can crack if he just tries hard enough. You don't lift your head, the eyes that once gave you comfort now make you nauseous.

You don't want to watch him lose his humanity like one of the tributes. You don't want to see Coriolanus become someone else.

But does one become something? Or has he always been as this?

“Are you scared of me?” direct, crude, as usual. He may not have the purity of Snow, but he's clear as one. There are no hidden meanings, no interpreter behind the door. He grabs your chin to make you look up at him, “Are you scared of me?”

The answer comes as a rather accusatory ask, “How many people have you killed?”

Quietude.

You can only hear his rapid breathing. You take a glance at him, only for the lavish boy to spare his head away. As if in shame, as if hiding.

When he's scared, he looks awfully lot like the man you swore to die with. Lately, living with him has been a harder oath to keep.

“It doesn't matter. I did this for you and us. We are free.” His tone takes up all the space of an answer. You know Snow doesn't want to talk about what happened, yet you can't stop your words.

“How much death is in your hands, Coriolanus?”

There, sitting in the mud while he bleeds, the man looks at you, and all you can see his a monster. The pieces coming together to make a image of destruction in your head, one inflected by the hands that always caressed you so gently.

He doesn't answer. Coriolanus just remains there, gazing inside your eyes. You don't leave him. You fool yourself thinking, maybe the monster is just trying to protect the boy. You know what he has seen, you still think it's not justified and—

And when he reaches out to place his hand on yours, his palm hand on contrast with his gelid nature, you are smitten, docile, even.

Love, you know, is the easiest way to perish.

Always good to the signals, Coriolanus leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

It's also the best way.

A couple decades have ended. Your love has turned into blood on the snow: red, vicious, rotten. Yin and yang were never attracted, they crashed into each other, they destroyed parts of each other to make home for themselves.

Coriolanus Snow is the president. He gets redder eveqrytime. You still wash his weary hands, hoping someday you'll drown in the blood and be forgiven for being in love with cruelty.

You don't know what loving a monster makes you anymore.

But when the mockingjay cries in the cage, that's a lot like what you feel those days.

Author's: hello!! I'm just started writing this, so please give me some comments and reblogs.

TAGLIST OPEN for Coriolanus Snow x reader. Send a dm or comment to add.

[herstarburststories]

my monstrous boy (Coriolanus Snow x reader)

Summary: Coriolanus Snow is a monstrous boy. He's cold, merciless, brutal. And you love him. God, you love him so much. But what happens when you love a monster?

Disclaimers: angst. so much. but don't worry, the next one will be smutty.

A/N: Hello, requests are open skkskskka.

A monster is what it is. People won't beat an eye at their doings, they won't elaborate on why they are what they are. Some seeds come just bad, they say, and you're in luck when it doesn't fuck up the three.

But what does it make the person who loves the monster? What does it mean to be so intertwined to something evil? So in love with someone who wears cruelty like a fancy perfume?

Well, you've discovered it.

Loving a monster means all the love get bloodstains on it. As it comes to Coriolanus Snow, loving him means washing the stains of blood with the water in the river by the Hanging Tree.

The eldest Snow came to you in the dead of the night, blue eyes fading into anything but the mening of the color. You could print out so many emotions there, mostly shock and fear.

But there was no regret.

Looking back, that should've pushed you asay from Coriolanus. But when he trembled like he's nothing but human, you fooled yourself into beliving that he was a victmin of the circumstances.

Perhaps, he was. In the begining. You remember his childhood stories like tales of war. A kid can't leave that violence withour swallowing part of it. Snow was made to be tough, but he was never violent, he would never—

“Ouch.” he grumbles, a sight of disposture that he's not used to display in fromt of anyone but his family, and you.

It's an open wound. It's a bleeding reminder that somebody tried to fight back and lost his life to him.

“I'm sorry.” the words rott in your tongue, you spit them out anyway. “But that's the least of your problems.”

Silence. You can feel him studying you, analyzing you as if you're a lesson he can crack if he just tries hard enough. You don't lift your head, the eyes that once gave you comfort now make you nauseous.

You don't want to watch him lose his humanity like one of the tributes. You don't want to see Coriolanus become someone else.

But does one become something? Or has he always been as this?

“Are you scared of me?” direct, crude, as usual. He may not have the purity of Snow, but he's clear as one. There are no hidden meanings, no interpreter behind the door. He grabs your chin to make you look up at him, “Are you scared of me?”

The answer comes as a rather accusatory ask, “How many people have you killed?”

Quietude.

You can only hear his rapid breathing. You take a glance at him, only for the lavish boy to spare his head away. As if in shame, as if hiding.

When he's scared, he looks awfully lot like the man you swore to die with. Lately, living with him has been a harder oath to keep.

“It doesn't matter. I did this for you and us. We are free.” His tone takes up all the space of an answer. You know Snow doesn't want to talk about what happened, yet you can't stop your words.

“How much death is in your hands, Coriolanus?”

There, sitting in the mud while he bleeds, the man looks at you, and all you can see his a monster. The pieces coming together to make a image of destruction in your head, one inflected by the hands that always caressed you so gently.

He doesn't answer. Coriolanus just remains there, gazing inside your eyes. You don't leave him. You fool yourself thinking, maybe the monster is just trying to protect the boy. You know what he has seen, you still think it's not justified and—

And when he reaches out to place his hand on yours, his palm hand on contrast with his gelid nature, you are smitten, docile, even.

Love, you know, is the easiest way to perish.

Always good to the signals, Coriolanus leans in and presses a tender kiss to your lips.

It's also the best way.

A couple decades have ended. Your love has turned into blood on the snow: red, vicious, rotten. Yin and yang were never attracted, they crashed into each other, they destroyed parts of each other to make home for themselves.

Coriolanus Snow is the president. He gets redder eveqrytime. You still wash his weary hands, hoping someday you'll drown in the blood and be forgiven for being in love with cruelty.

You don't know what loving a monster makes you anymore.

But when the mockingjay cries in the cage, that's a lot like what you feel those days.

Author's: hello!! I'm just started writing this, so please give me some comments and reblogs.

TAGLIST OPEN for Coriolanus Snow x reader. Send a dm or comment to add.

[herstarburststories]

the top of my list (steve harrington x reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve just wants to be wanted.

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

Basketball championship!!

College (or tech)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make it a punch and we have a deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[herstarburststories]

the top of my list (steve harrington x reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve just wants to be wanted.

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

Basketball championship!!

College (or tech)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make it a punch and we have a deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[herstarburststories]

the top of my list (steve harrington x reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve just wants to be wanted.

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

Basketball championship!!

College (or tech)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make it a punch and we have a deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[herstarburststories]

the top of my list (steve harrington x reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve just wants to be wanted.

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

Basketball championship!!

College (or tech)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make it a punch and we have a deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[herstarburststories]

the top of my list (steve harrington x reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve just wants to be wanted.

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

Basketball championship!!

College (or tech)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make it a punch and we have a deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[herstarburststories]

the top of my list (steve harrington x reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve just wants to be wanted.

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

Basketball championship!!

College (or tech)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Make it a punch and we have a deal.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[herstarburststories]

Steve proposes to Y/N when they're in upside down!!!!! Because he doesn't want to die without asking her to be his forever!!!!!! That's all!!!!!!! And it's just canon!!!!! Steve told me that!!!!!!!

[herstarburststories]

Steve proposes to Y/N when they're in upside down!!!!! Because he doesn't want to die without asking her to be his forever!!!!!! That's all!!!!!!! And it's just canon!!!!! Steve told me that!!!!!!!

[herstarburststories]

STEVE HARRINGTON NSFW ALPHABET

Steve x reader sexual preferences from A to Z

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Steve is touch-starved, but how open he'll be about that is up to how close you two are. If it's an one-night stand, he's most likely to wait for you to cuddle up to him and them he will just places his arms around you and stay like that until you're asleep (or the sun us coming up). Steve will leave before you wake up. BUT if you two are dating or he's in love with, Steve will be waaay more open about cuddles: he will pull you to his chest after sex, or he will lay his head on your chest and just listen to the silence with you. He loves when you play with his hair and loves to play with it too.

Steve just won't be away from you after sex, somehow he will always be touching you: his fingers tracing your skin, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand holding yours, his legs tagled with yours. Ps: he will pout if you need to leave the bed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

It's definitely your boobs. I'm sorry, but this man is a boob man and he's very proud. He loves to play with your boobs: stroke, kiss, lick, suck. Anything. Even when you two are cuddling after fuclkig, he will find a way! (either lay his head on your chest or hold your boob with his hand). The amount of arguments that Steve lost because you were wearing a shirt with cleavage is countless. He's passionate about your boobs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to taste you. Steve is proud to make you scream and come on his mouth, and he will always lick you clean, which usually ends up with you coming a second time. Best taste ever. Also, he really likes to see his cum on your body.

D = Dom (are they dominant? submissive? switch?)

Both. Sex is great and even better with you, he wants to enjoy it anyway.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He used to be a A class womanizer, so yes. Steve is very experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As much as doggystyle is a classic for him, #1 is cowgirl/you on top. He just loves it when you ride him. He can just worship your body whilst he comes inside you and sees your pretty face when you come on his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Depends on the mood. Usually he will start playful and become more serious when it's past foreplay, but he can do both.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has chest hair, but he's pretty groomed where it matters the most.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Steve isn't one to say 'I love you' so openly or even use pet names on daily, but he is sweeter when sex is involved. He will call you nicknames and search your hand to hold it, especially when he's about to come. He always kisses you on the forehead once you two are done, even when you have some rough fucking.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He likes masturbate to pictures of you when you aren't around, Steve is addicated to your body.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He is into boob fucking and anal sex. Steve is also into handcuffs (on him) and thighs around his head while he eats you out. He enjoys it when you touch him under the table at a restaurant. Plus some dry humping to tease you and slaps on your ass slightly. And if you're a little braver, lactation kink.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Steve had experience in many places, but he's a simple man: couch, car (any surface), floor, the resting room at his job when you went to bring him lunch, and pool.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You not wearing a bra, you mad (he thinks it's sexy), some old songs, your ass, and your touch. Really, smirk and touch Steve for a little too long and you'll have a very horny man pulling you to the room.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not really into asphyxiation.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's absolutely in love with your mouth. Steve would fuck it all day if he could, but he also savories eating your pussy. His experience helps a lot and he always has a smug smile when he manages to make you skirt, but you also have a pretty good time when he's moaning and a blushing mess when you make him come. It's 50/50.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

STEVE LOVES QUICKIES. He will do it anytime, anywhere. If he can get you, he's happy. Of course, Steve wants to be able to take his time later, but he won't pass the opportunity to fuck you on a quickie whenever there's a chance.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will take a risk anywhere where the kids are NOT. If you two are on a date alone, he will try his luck under the table, in restaurant's parking lot, against a tree, on the city welcome board that time, and even while driving (just once).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a young man, he can do it plenty times. And when he can't use his cock for a while, his sneaky fingers and his skilled tongue are ready to assist you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have toys, but he will use yours if you do. He especially likes handcuffs on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You two have been spending too much time together? He will mostly teasy you playfuly. But when Steve is feeling neglected... Tease you all the time. Smirks, discreet touches, biting his bottom lip, pressing his crotch on your ass, eating a cupcake and moaning whilst talking about how wet it is.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He used to be more quiet, but Steve is more open (aka loud) with you now.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character, prolly a little dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to kiss you after you suck him, just to know that his taste is on your lips is wondrous. Steve is also into leaving hickeys on your neck, plus he likes it when you thigh ride him. He will ask you to record you two fucking to watch it with you and masturbate to it. Steve also had sex with you in every surface of his house because at least like that he would've good memories there.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Couple times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Steve was used to wait until his partner was asleep to escape through the window, so he usually doesn't fall asleep quick unless you are at his house, even after you two have been together for a while. So he just spends his time watching you while waiting for sleep to appear.

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

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

[herstarburststories]

STEVE HARRINGTON NSFW ALPHABET

Steve x reader sexual preferences from A to Z

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Steve is touch-starved, but how open he'll be about that is up to how close you two are. If it's an one-night stand, he's most likely to wait for you to cuddle up to him and them he will just places his arms around you and stay like that until you're asleep (or the sun us coming up). Steve will leave before you wake up. BUT if you two are dating or he's in love with, Steve will be waaay more open about cuddles: he will pull you to his chest after sex, or he will lay his head on your chest and just listen to the silence with you. He loves when you play with his hair and loves to play with it too.

Steve just won't be away from you after sex, somehow he will always be touching you: his fingers tracing your skin, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand holding yours, his legs tagled with yours. Ps: he will pout if you need to leave the bed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

It's definitely your boobs. I'm sorry, but this man is a boob man and he's very proud. He loves to play with your boobs: stroke, kiss, lick, suck. Anything. Even when you two are cuddling after fuclkig, he will find a way! (either lay his head on your chest or hold your boob with his hand). The amount of arguments that Steve lost because you were wearing a shirt with cleavage is countless. He's passionate about your boobs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to taste you. Steve is proud to make you scream and come on his mouth, and he will always lick you clean, which usually ends up with you coming a second time. Best taste ever. Also, he really likes to see his cum on your body.

D = Dom (are they dominant? submissive? switch?)

Both. Sex is great and even better with you, he wants to enjoy it anyway.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He used to be a A class womanizer, so yes. Steve is very experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As much as doggystyle is a classic for him, #1 is cowgirl/you on top. He just loves it when you ride him. He can just worship your body whilst he comes inside you and sees your pretty face when you come on his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Depends on the mood. Usually he will start playful and become more serious when it's past foreplay, but he can do both.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has chest hair, but he's pretty groomed where it matters the most.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Steve isn't one to say 'I love you' so openly or even use pet names on daily, but he is sweeter when sex is involved. He will call you nicknames and search your hand to hold it, especially when he's about to come. He always kisses you on the forehead once you two are done, even when you have some rough fucking.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He likes masturbate to pictures of you when you aren't around, Steve is addicated to your body.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He is into boob fucking and anal sex. Steve is also into handcuffs (on him) and thighs around his head while he eats you out. He enjoys it when you touch him under the table at a restaurant. Plus some dry humping to tease you and slaps on your ass slightly. And if you're a little braver, lactation kink.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Steve had experience in many places, but he's a simple man: couch, car (any surface), floor, the resting room at his job when you went to bring him lunch, and pool.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You not wearing a bra, you mad (he thinks it's sexy), some old songs, your ass, and your touch. Really, smirk and touch Steve for a little too long and you'll have a very horny man pulling you to the room.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not really into asphyxiation.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's absolutely in love with your mouth. Steve would fuck it all day if he could, but he also savories eating your pussy. His experience helps a lot and he always has a smug smile when he manages to make you skirt, but you also have a pretty good time when he's moaning and a blushing mess when you make him come. It's 50/50.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

STEVE LOVES QUICKIES. He will do it anytime, anywhere. If he can get you, he's happy. Of course, Steve wants to be able to take his time later, but he won't pass the opportunity to fuck you on a quickie whenever there's a chance.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will take a risk anywhere where the kids are NOT. If you two are on a date alone, he will try his luck under the table, in restaurant's parking lot, against a tree, on the city welcome board that time, and even while driving (just once).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a young man, he can do it plenty times. And when he can't use his cock for a while, his sneaky fingers and his skilled tongue are ready to assist you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have toys, but he will use yours if you do. He especially likes handcuffs on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You two have been spending too much time together? He will mostly teasy you playfuly. But when Steve is feeling neglected... Tease you all the time. Smirks, discreet touches, biting his bottom lip, pressing his crotch on your ass, eating a cupcake and moaning whilst talking about how wet it is.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He used to be more quiet, but Steve is more open (aka loud) with you now.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character, prolly a little dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to kiss you after you suck him, just to know that his taste is on your lips is wondrous. Steve is also into leaving hickeys on your neck, plus he likes it when you thigh ride him. He will ask you to record you two fucking to watch it with you and masturbate to it. Steve also had sex with you in every surface of his house because at least like that he would've good memories there.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

18 inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Couple times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Steve was used to wait until his partner was asleep to escape through the window, so he usually doesn't fall asleep quick unless you are at his house, even after you two have been together for a while. So he just spends his time watching you while waiting for sleep to appear.

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

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

[herstarburststories]

STEVE HARRINGTON NSFW ALPHABET

Steve x reader sexual preferences from A to Z

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Steve is touch-starved, but how open he'll be about that is up to how close you two are. If it's an one-night stand, he's most likely to wait for you to cuddle up to him and them he will just places his arms around you and stay like that until you're asleep (or the sun us coming up). Steve will leave before you wake up. BUT if you two are dating or he's in love with, Steve will be waaay more open about cuddles: he will pull you to his chest after sex, or he will lay his head on your chest and just listen to the silence with you. He loves when you play with his hair and loves to play with it too.

Steve just won't be away from you after sex, somehow he will always be touching you: his fingers tracing your skin, his lips pressed to your neck, his hand holding yours, his legs tagled with yours. Ps: he will pout if you need to leave the bed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

It's definitely your boobs. I'm sorry, but this man is a boob man and he's very proud. He loves to play with your boobs: stroke, kiss, lick, suck. Anything. Even when you two are cuddling after fuclkig, he will find a way! (either lay his head on your chest or hold your boob with his hand). The amount of arguments that Steve lost because you were wearing a shirt with cleavage is countless. He's passionate about your boobs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves to taste you. Steve is proud to make you scream and come on his mouth, and he will always lick you clean, which usually ends up with you coming a second time. Best taste ever. Also, he really likes to see his cum on your body.

D = Dom (are they dominant? submissive? switch?)

Both but + dom. Sex is great and even better with you, he wants to enjoy it anyway.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He used to be a A class womanizer, so yes. Steve is very experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As much as doggystyle is a classic for him, #1 is cowgirl/you on top. He just loves it when you ride him. He can just worship your body whilst he comes inside you and sees your pretty face when you come on his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Depends on the mood. Usually he will start playful and become more serious when it's past foreplay, but he can do both.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has chest hair, but he's pretty groomed where it matters the most.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Steve isn't one to say 'I love you' so openly or even use pet names on daily, but he is sweeter when sex is involved. He will call you nicknames/compliment you and search your hand to hold it, especially when he's about to come. He always kisses you on the forehead once you two are done, even when you have some rough fucking.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He likes masturbate to pictures of you when you aren't around, Steve is addicated to your body.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He is into boob fucking and anal sex. Steve is also into handcuffs (on him) and thighs around his head while he eats you out. He enjoys it when you touch him under the table at a restaurant and praise kink. Plus some dry humping to tease you and slaps on your ass slightly. And if you're a little braver, lactation kink.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Steve had experience in many places, but he's a simple man: couch, car (any surface), floor, the resting room at his job when you went to bring him lunch, and pool.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You not wearing a bra, you mad (he thinks it's sexy), some old songs, your ass, and your touch. Really, smirk and touch Steve for a little too long and you'll have a very horny man pulling you to the room.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not really into asphyxiation.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He's absolutely in love with your mouth. Steve would fuck it all day if he could, but he also savories eating your pussy. His experience helps a lot and he always has a smug smile when he manages to make you skirt, but you also have a pretty good time when he's moaning and a blushing mess when you make him come. It's 50/50.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

STEVE LOVES QUICKIES. He will do it anytime, anywhere. If he can get you, he's happy. Of course, Steve wants to be able to take his time later, but he won't pass the opportunity to fuck you on a quickie whenever there's a chance.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will take a risk anywhere where the kids are NOT. If you two are on a date alone, he will try his luck under the table, in restaurant's parking lot, against a tree, on the city welcome board that time, and even while driving (just once).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a young man, he can do it plenty times. And when he can't use his cock for a while, his sneaky fingers and his skilled tongue are ready to assist you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't have toys, but he will use yours if you do. He especially likes handcuffs on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You two have been spending too much time together? He will mostly teasy you playfuly. But when Steve is feeling neglected... Tease you all the time. Smirks, discreet touches, biting his bottom lip, pressing his crotch on your ass, eating a cupcake and moaning whilst talking about how wet it is.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He used to be more quiet, but Steve is more open (aka loud) with you now.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character, prolly a little dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to kiss you after you suck him, just to know that his taste is on your lips is wondrous. Steve is also into leaving hickeys on your neck, plus he likes it when you thigh ride him. He will ask you to record you two fucking to watch it with you and masturbate to it. Steve also had sex with you in every surface of his house because at least like that he would've good memories there.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Couple times a week.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Steve was used to wait until his partner was asleep to escape through the window, so he usually doesn't fall asleep quick unless you are at his house, even after you two have been together for a while. So he just spends his time watching you while waiting for sleep to appear.

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

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

[herstarburststories]

hello!! Do you write for all of the characters from the boys or just soldier boy? And are requests open for the boys too?

Hey! I've only written Soldier Boy, but I'd like to try the other the boys too, depending on the request :)

[herstarburststories]

So I recently started posting a Spldier Boy fic.....would you ever consider reading it?

I would! Send it to my and I'll read once I have time. 💜

[herstarburststories]

Would you guys be interested on some Steve Harrington x reader? I wrote a little something yesterday.