#steve stranger things x male reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nouearth · 8 months

Text

rated i for impatient.

steve harrington x male reader.

summary: in the middle of a slow afternoon at family video, steve has an idea on how to past time, and it involves you and your mouth.

wc: 3.4k. warnings: explicit smut, handjob (r!giving), blowjob (r!giving), mouth-fucking, deep-throating, lots of spit, gagging, bantering, workplace quickie, co-workers, established relationship, rough!steve, but also gentle!steve, bigdick!steve.

a/n: and it's been a hot minute since i've written smut, as well as a full one-shot!! i swear, i feel like my small hiatus made me forget everything, lol. but i hope it's as good as my other stories and i also hope you guys enjoy steve's first appearance on my blog!

“Dude, you seriously couldn’t wait?”

Heavy footsteps followed Steve as he dragged your trudge into the storage closet. Even though his back faced you, he responded with a shimmy of his shoulders, the flight of muscles equally excited to cease the sluggish afternoon.

“Oh, come on!” He shut the door once you entered with a distressed groan. Though, he knew you didn’t mean it despite your pointed tone.

“I know you want to.” Steve sang with a tease, cornering you against the door with a playful dance, and a smile that had charmed you since the first time you had met him.

You’d been keeping track at how many times Steve had simply captivated you with his presence. It was embarrassing because you’d lost count since day one. The only statistic that you did know was that you were losing.

Losing bad.

Always a goody two-shoes and extra responsible, yet somehow, you were never a prude and knew how to have fun. If only you weren’t so hesitant in this moment. It was your first week, your fourth day at Family Video, and you wanted to make a great impression, even if it was only something to fill up your time during the summer.

He continued to dance, singing a tune that had been stuck in his head since three mornings ago, and your lips curled into smile while he performed within the narrow space. A few stumbles threw him off balance, but upon seeing your lips bitten to hold back a laugh, the following trip had been intentional.

Steve collided into you, though barely as he caught his weight against the door. A whisper of gasp dried your throat when the sudden thump by your shoulders jolted you and his face rushed close to yours like a bullet. Your gaze widened in surprise, only for them to roll once it catalogued the mischief on his face. “You know Keith kind of hates you, right? You’re going to be fucked if he catches you slacking again.”

“Me?! I’m sorry, are you a ghost or something? A figment of my imagination? Worse… I’ve huffed paint too many times when I was little, and now it’s all catching up to me.” There was amusement on his face and it reflected off of your smile.

You straightened your posture to match his eye level, and rebutted his theory with the light touch of your nose to his. He laughed, wrapping his arms around your torso. “You’d get in trouble too, you know. Last time I checked, most sexual acts involve at least two participants.”

“Yeah, well, he likes me unlike you! If anything, he’d probably blame you for being a bad influence or something.” The possible truth expelled a groan out of Steve, but it doesn’t stop him from pouring the remainder of his frustration into your mouth.

You took him in stride, earlier hesitance burying into the back of your mind when the fresh mint of his breath began haunting your mouth. Then, completely into obscurity when his tongue slid over yours, sloppily in hopes of awakening a fruitful lust, akin to his, within you.

“Steve… come on,” You pulled away, but Steve immediately captured your lips again in a tongue-swelling kiss. “What if customers come in?” You panted in between breaths, squeezing at his firm back to distract yourself from the growing tent within your khakis.

“I’ve been here longer than you, studied the activity down to the seconds.” He pressed into you, hip to hip, until you could feel his own muscle growing against yours. “We have at least ten minutes.”

“Ten?! Dude, that’s not enough—“

“Please?” Steve suddenly pulled your hand from his back and into the firmness of his bulge, looking into you with a desperation that rivaled the yearning freedom of his erection. “Please…” The curl of your hand was imposed by his grip, folding them until you had a handful of his bulge, throbbing at the mere friction of your warm palm.

“Fuck,” The determination in Steve’s gaze, as well as the devilish guidance of your own cock stirring against you, had your hand leave the aching muscle for a brief moment to hastily unbuckle his belt. You pressed your lips back to his, and muttered with a grimace. “You’re owing me one after work.”

“God, I love you.” He sighed with relief upon knowing that the heavy pressure in his pants would soon be released, thanking you by taking your cheeks into the dip of his palms and kissing you warm and wet. Even if it was going to be a quick one, his main priority was to be liberated of the painful throbs that had led him to this desperate juncture.

As much as Steve hated confined spaces, the feeling of the storage space closing in on him had only been fleeting because his desire for you was gravity-defying strong. It expanded the proximity at his very will until you were the only subject framed in his field of vision.

Lips plumped from the bites he took from your flesh earlier, balmy skin speckled with a flush that he’d been the sole creator of, he couldn’t get enough of your presence. He took in your woody scent with deep inhales as he moved his lips to your neck, and your hands began digging into the waistband of his pants, pulling Steve close with a hard yank to harbor every warm breath into one another again.

With one swift pull, the belt collided with the floor and your hands worked at the zipper like a tailor until the khakis dropped and pooled around his ankles. You accompanied the leather and fabric seconds after, kneeling onto the cold surface with the eager guidance of Steve’s caresses to the back of your head.

Kneeling face-to-face with his bulge, you couldn’t stop yourself from drooling even if Steve was covered. You could outline the girth of his cock, plumping and thickening under your piquant gaze, and then throbbing when you followed the curve with your palm in eager cycles until the waistband screamed for your attention.

Your fingers hooked into the elastic band and in one slow pull, you revealed Steve’s erection in all its glory. Thick and unkempt hairs billowed first, and you played with the anticipation as you dragged the waistband over his length, weighting it downwards until all that was left covered was the plump tip that you can still taste from a few nights ago. In a final yank, Steve’s cock sprang up proudly and his groans were heavenly in its accompaniment. The weight of his large cock made him bounce in several reps before it was kept still by the warmth of your hand, then another over the remaining curve to amuse yourself with his blessed size.

“Jesus, did you not jerk off this morning? Haven’t seen or felt you this hard before...” Your mouth fell open in awe, and also in preparation to loosen the muscles in your jaw while your hands slid over him in slow strokes. Every vein throbbed at the delicate touch, pulsated strong when you squeezed a few sticky drips of his pre-cum from his spout. They would’ve landed on the undeserving floor had you not stuck your tongue out in time, lapping him up from the underside of his cock to the smooth pink rim.

His cock jumped when your other hand dropped to fondle his balls, hanging low as if they awaited to be grasped and swung. You did exactly that as you licked the slit of his tip, amusing yourself with Steve’s package that you had sucked and fucked before, yet still managed to be surprised despite your many affairs.

“Not since we last fucked, to be honest.” At first, he balled the end of his shirt and raised it high to prevent it from obstructing your view, exposing the happy trail that you always traced over with your tongue on lazy Sundays. “Guess it wasn’t the same.” But the defy work of your hands spread the boil in his stomach to the muscular arch of his back, hot and heavy on his body until the weight of his shirt was thrown off. Moans exhaled in breathy tremors as you squeezed his shaft and pulled him forward and back in wall-closing jerks.

“Well, I’m sorry for the long wait.” Your strokes continued while you sealed a wet promise to the pink glans. “I’ll make it worth it.” You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out to welcome the following sticky slaps of his heavy length in disgusting delight, holding him like a marker as you patterned his thick pre-cum over your pair of lips before the salty flesh was vaulted into your mouth with an inhale.

His length pushed your mouth open in an accommodating stretch, almost pleasurable if he hadn’t been so difficult to take in. The first few inches gagged you, ached a muscle in your stomach when you flexed. It was traditional at this point, and your routine often consisted of stroking the shaft that had yet felt the heat of your mouth. The sliminess of your tongue as you bathed Steve’s cock in stomach-churning sin, lapping the musk of him from the loose scrotum to the plump head.

And it was a routine to attempt to take him again. You spat in your hand before lubing his stiff in a glaze that caught the light of his eyes, then the hiccup of his moan. “Fuck, you know I love it when you do that…”

“Yeah?” You smiled, his compliments sent straight to your erection while the sticky sounds of bubbles and drool soiled his cock in pure lust in lazy strokes, then sealed when you wrapped your lips around him again, and pushed down when the pulse of his veins beckoned you.

The size of his cock drew a moan out of you, tremors rimming the shaft while you prepared the opening of your throat little by little. Drool leaked from either corners of your mouth, staining your flushed skin and then the floor, but you hadn’t been bothered to save them despite your reputation of being a clean-freak.

When it came to Steve, you were in a state of delirium that had forgotten who you were because there was only one purpose on your mind: to pleasure.

“Shit, (M/N)—“ His hands had left you to fold his arms behind his head, allowing his silhouette to become yours to own and to rapture over as you worked him like one your favorite treats at the candy store. He slipped in and out of you, closer to the barrier of your throat with the help of his thrusts, and the only time you’d take a break was when you suckled on his balls. As his cock hung over your face, head dripping in saliva and thick pre-cum, you found enjoyment in rolling his balls like dice: another one of Steve’s favorite moves.

Steve was heavy on your tongue and the only way you could thank him for blessing you with his fruitful cock, was to love-bomb him with all of his favorite desires. You lined the underside with your tongue until your lips met the pink glans again, speckling it with a playful pecks before weighing his shaft down with your spit once again. “Have you always liked it sloppy?”

“Mm—no…” He murmured, and you looked up into the heaviness of his lids, surprised by his confession. “Not until I met you. For others, it’s kind of gross, but… you do it differently. Tastefully, and I’m not trying to be funny.”

You laughed at the unintentional joke and Steve joined your amusement with a smile, petting the back of your head before it was guided back to swallow him whole this time. Your mouth stretched wide the more he pushed you, burying the remnants of your humored-self into the pit of your throat with the ample of his throbbing erection. Your hands held around his thighs to brace for the oncoming gags and Steve does the same around your head, threading his fingers into your hair with a strong grip as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until tears brimmed the highlights of your eyes.

“Holy shit—“ Steve was enamored by the feeling of stuffing you whole. The confines of your mouth and throat restricted the blood flow around him, yet he couldn’t have felt himself pulsate more, stiffen harder in between your godly gags and whimpers. The scratches at his thighs was a telling sign for him to pull you back, and so he does in what felt like slow motion. His cock unsheathed out of your throat like a sleeve, unraveling a spell of gasps and bubbling moans in midst.

“You did so good, baby… fuck.” Cupping your cheek, he briefly bent down to meet you in the middle of his gratification, kissing you proud and golden on your breathless smile before he tore himself away to spit inside of your mouth and submerging his saliva down your mouth with his cock again. Despite the sting in your eyes and throat, you were compliant to his every move and welcomed the sheathing of his wet flesh in prideful determination.

Steve’s hands had moved to either sides of your head, where he had complete control of every bone and muscle of your neck, and the desire to fuck your tight mouth had become a victorious reality. Your lips pressed into his unkempt hairs when he forced you down again, tasting the sweat that had been harbored within the strands.

From then on, your gags had only become motivation as he rode the rhythm of your delectable sounds with sharp and eager thrusts. Gasps and coughs stuck to the slick of your throat while Steve’s cock fucked them down in repetitive and selfish strides. Your head moved from the guidance of Steve’s hold, meeting the bow of your head with a forward thrust and ramming into the back of your throat while you spilled sheltered saliva—thick and bubbly in its journey to form a puddle on the floor. He repeated after barely giving you enough time to catch your breath, choking and fucking your mouth with his cock while you writhed on your knees in intimidation.

Steve sheltered you close, curling his body over you as a satisfied moan added to the thick air when he shoved your head deep in between his legs, keeping you still in midst of your squirms. Whenever you tried to pull back, Steve only thrusted and pushed you further into your struggle for freedom. He drowned you in your own saliva, locked you of your only source of oxygen as your nose pressed deep into his pelvis, and gagged you to the point of leaving scars on his thighs as your fingers curled into his flesh, desperate for a whisper of air to breathe back into you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You finally get your wish when he yanked you back, and you inhaled with a slobbering gasp, coughing out the oxygen that he had buried from within you.

Throughout all of this, you gazed beautifully up to him, Steve thought. From the highlights of the whites to the color of your orbs, you glistened like nature past dew point, and his chest swelled in agreement. His heart pulsed faster than the rhythmic sucks and strokes of your mouth and hand as you’ve gone back to sucking him, fisting him into your mouth as your mouth began aching from deep-throating, breath recovering from being face-fucked. It was a curse that you put on him, where he closed his eyes to the merit of your tongue and couldn’t bear to look at you again because if he did, he knew he could come all over your face right then and there.

“Close—fuck.” His shoulders rolled back and one hand pushed the sweat off his forehead back into the fluff of his hair, while the other maintained on your head, keeping you in close proximity.

“Fuck, Steve…” You sniffled, desperately tasting the salt off the tip of his cock while you snapped your wrist back and forth in jerking him off. Your free hand ran over his stomach, then down his flexed thighs, and you squeezed to remind him that he was spellbound under your touch. His gaze casted downwards to meet yours once again, and he nodded as if he understood.

The pressure on the back of your head hardened, but it was your own will that had you slobbering all over him again. You took him his cock back in with desperation, the memory of how salty he had tasted days prior fortifying your delirious state of mind. You sucked Steve off, swallowed him whole, fucked him into your fist, then into your mouth, and it would repeat until he nested his hand into your hair, tightly curling them into a fist as he came undone into your mouth.

“Fuck—“

Steve’s cock pulsed in heavy bounces and his balls bounced in its drain as he emptied himself inside of you. Warm and thick seed accompanied the fill of your mouth, and your hand reached down to massage his sack, aiding the scrotum to dump the remaining few shots into the pool of cum. Slowly, you pulled back with your lips pressed tight in caution of wasting the fresh fluid, and you swallowed slow and proud, savoring every gulp that ran down your violated throat as if it the cure to the sore. He watched you, panting heavily, and his cleansed cock twitched as you quenched upon his energy for the day.

“You don't have to swallow it al—“ Before he could finish his question, you stuck your tongue out to reveal the abyss of your mouth, and the limp of his cock roused with one more throb before finally hanging low in between his legs. Steve was left astonished, and there was a flicker in his eyes before he helped you back on your feet. “Come here, I need to kiss you right now.”

A laugh was caught in between your lips when Steve kissed you with a familiar sweetness that always rattled the butterflies in your stomach. He pulled you close to pacify the flutter of their wings, and sighed into you before a hand gently caressed the middle of your throat. “Did I go too hard?”

“I would’ve said something if you did, Steve.” You’d come to realize that it always took more than a smile and comforting words to appease his guilt, and so you pressed fleeting pecks to the center of his lips, then began massaging the sensitive fill of his cock in slow turns. “I mean, if you want, we can go for round two right now and—“

“Okay, okay.” He pressed a laugh into your lips and leaned his forehead onto yours for the moment you two shared a gaze. Looking into you, it dismantled all of his worries, as it did for you, and it was only when the cold bit at his naked body that roused him from the daze.

“I should probably put my clothes back on.”

“Dude, are you saying that isn’t your uniform?” You gasped.

“Dude,” He took you by the back of your head again and kissed you once, grinning. “Shut up.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

1K notes · View notes

smashtbh · 2 years

Text

Passing Notes

ST boys x M!reader | fem aligned + minors dni!

included in order: steve harrington, billy hargrove, jonathan byers, eddie munson, jason carver.

CW: swearing, mention of alcohol, drawings of nsfw content, mention of reader having a dick, cutesy, bad hand writing.

there are no pronouns used to refer to the reader.

a/n: LMAO I LOVE THIS BRUH THIS WAS SO FUN TO MAKE. please excuse my shit handwriting it is very difficult to write with my finger on my phone, but i tried to switch it up to match the boys themselves but idk my handwriting is just bad

steve harrington.

“Is this supposed to convince me?”

“Depends, did it work?”

“Steve, you could’ve just asked me to come over.”

“Oh. But like — did this persuade you at all?”

“No.”

“Noted.”

billy hargrove.

“What the fuck is this.”

“Art, baby.”

“Get out of my face, Billy.”

“Not till you fuck me stupid.”

“You’re already stupid.”

jonathan byers.

“Jonathan, this is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen cuter things.”

“Yeah, like you.”

“Y/N.. quit it.”

“But you blush so prettily.”

“Y/N!”

eddie munson.

“Did you draw this?”

“No, an eagle flew through the window, took my pencil, and drew that for me.”

“Well, he did a shit job.”

“Excuse me?!”

jason carver.

“Uh.. what’s on the top?”

“Don’t read that, will you help me?”

“I mean — yeah, I’m just confused about this little part here — “

“Don’t read that!”

likes, reblogs, & comments are appreciated!

#stranger things x male reader #eddie munson x male reader #steve harrington x male reader #jonathan byers x male reader #billie hargrove x male reader #jason carver x male reader #male reader #x male reader #gay #billy hargrove #steve harrington #jonathan byers #jason carver #eddie munson

4K notes · View notes

elzswr · 2 years

Text

steve harrington x reader.

“has anyone called steve?” your head perked up from your slumped position.

“stevie’s coming?” you slurred. one of your friends pat your shoulder, an attempt to comfort your drunk self. before anyone can answer you, you already saw him. your face lighting up in an instant that made your friends chuckle.

never in a million years did they expect that they’re friend who’s always sneering and glaring at every living thing they saw would be this whipped. but then again, they can’t blame you. because steve harrington is also whipped for you.

“stevie!” you called, a little too loud that your friend beside you slapped a hand in your mouth.

steve chuckled before nodding to your friends as greeting. he rushed over to you and held your cheeks.

“hi.” you greeted with a grin, “i missed you.”

he chuckled, “we just saw each other this morning.” he says while stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“yeah, but you left me after.” you said with a pout.

he sighs, “cause i have work, love.”

before you can even answer one of your friends made a gagging sound, “you two are so gross, get a room.” she says with feigned annoyance.

you rolled your eyes at her and looked at steve who’s already looking at you. your heart fluttered at the sight.

“get your things, love.” steve said. regardless of telling you to do it, he’s the one who collected your things. all while ignoring the whines and complaints from your friends.

before you know it, you’re secured on his back making your way out of the bar.

you buried your face in his neck and put a light kiss on it that made him shudder but didn’t say anything.

“hey” you whispered. he hums, “put me down.”

“why?”

“because i can walk.”

reluctantly, he carefully sets you down as you stand up slowly, adjusting to balancing on your own.

“what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly when you just stared at him blankly.

after a beat of silence you spoke, “are you single?”

silence. then he laughs.

“don’t laugh!” you hit him lightly in his shoulder.

“i’m sorry.” he said when his chuckles died down, but he’s still smiling at you.

“i hate you.” you grumbled, squinting your eyes at him in feign annoyance.

“you love me.” he said with while grinning at you.

“i do.” your fast response has his heart skipping a beat, “now say it back,”

“i love you more, baby.” he said with a smile before pulling you in a hug.

you relish being held by him in the cold night. the breeze sobers you up a bit and you don’t want to pull away, or go home for that matter. afraid of the teasing that will come the next morning.

“let’s get you home, lovey.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x male!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #joe keery #joe keery x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things

4K notes · View notes

famwhy · 8 months

Text

Right Way Up (04)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: omg guys, I came across an account that said their current favourite fic was this one in their bio. I'm acc so happy, tysm

prev part. masterlist.

04. bring unto me peculiarity

trait: e.m.

YOU blinked, jaw hung open and muscles tense as her grip around you tightened—constricting your movements and clogging your airways. Though, breathing was the least of your concerns when it came to tight hugs at the moment, not when you had your dumb arm to worry about.

As if on cue, a sharp rupture of pain spiked your side, and you winced, grunting a little before sucking a breath in through your teeth and asking—albeit with scrunched up features—"...sorry, do I know you?"

"Wha—?" She pulled away at that, and the look she gave you—oh, the look she gave you—it was full of heartbreak, emotional turmoil spanning as far as the eye could see. "It's me, baby, it's mommy."

"Mom?"

You thought you didn't have a mother.

"Yes, baby, it's me. It's mom." She smiled, pupils shaking in—and you could be wrong about this, but—what seemed like... desperation?

What's up with that?

And, if this lady really was your mother, where the hell had she been all these days?

"Y/N? The hell is taking so—?"

A strange sense of déjà vu drenched your form as your eyes followed the new voice, landing on the slightly-parted lips and wide, almost-disbelieving eyes of your second oldest brother—hands still covered by the huge, red gloves he often adorned.

Then, his features scrunched up—though, it wasn't like yours had just done—no—his were harder, more purposeful; his were clouded in a storm consisting purely of loathing so unadulterated, you had half a mind to think he was staring—no, glaring—into the form of his worst enemy.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" And as he spoke, venom spat out of his mouth, launching itself straight onto the woman still loosely holding you and causing her face to scrunch up in a pained wince. "Shouldn't you be on one of your fucking five-year-long business trips?"

"Oh honey—"

His glare grew sharper. "Don't call me that."

"I..." she trailed off and you blinked, helpless to the scene that was playing out right before your very eyes.

"I don't know what the fuck got into you but you can't just waltz in here like..." his face scrunched up, brows furrowing as he paused the sentence for one... two... three seconds before continuing, spite still as prevalent as ever, "like you belong!"

You watched as her face dropped even further at that—the barely visible bags under her eyes looking about ten times worse than they did before.

Now, you had no idea what type of past you were meant to have shared with this woman—how horrible it truly was—but surely someone who greeted you so warmly at the door couldn't be too bad?

So with that thought in mind, you narrowed your eyes by the slightest amount—a little... hesitantly—before lightly scolding, "Hey. Curt, maybe tone it down a little?"

His attention averted from the woman—hateful, dark eyes that were once throwing daggers her way, now unapologetically directed towards you. "'Tone it down a little'? Do you hear yourself, Y/N? That woman missed almost every single birthday of yours! Every. Single. One!"

Alright, so, you didn't usually consider yourself to be much of a coward, but being the recipient of that deadly gaze was enough to make you yield just this once—both of your hands flying up to rest in the air beside your head. Hey, you tried, he just didn't listen.

Besides, you were only a mere bystander in this squabble anyway. Sure, you felt bad for the woman, but not bad enough to get socked in the face by a boxer for her.

...okay, now you just sounded like a jerk.

Feeling your heart tighten slightly, you shook your head to rid yourself of those awful, intrusive thoughts and parted your lips in an attempt to redeem yourself.

Keyword: attempt.

Before even a word could breeze past your tongue, another voice entered the fray—one a lot more grounded than any other you'd heard since you opened the door—"What the hell is with all this—? Mom?"

You tilted your head just enough to catch the approaching form of your oldest brother—his figure growing with each step he took—and the closer he grew, the clearer his facial expression became.

His brows were furrowed, but instead of the hostile way that Curt's were, his were more... well, confused?—shocked, perhaps?—or maybe a better word for it would be baffled? Either/or, he didn't look like he was terribly upset with her appearance, further grinding your theory of her not being that bad into reality.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just thought that—" the sudden lack of warmth around your arms had your head whipping back, eyes watching as the same fingers that were once wrapped around you, now awkwardly rubbed the woman's other limb, "—maybe it was about time I spent some quality time with you all?"

Before you could even register what she had said—Curt's voice hastily cut through the air; a tone of finality you hadn't heard him use before laced so deeply within it, "Too little too late."

Though—if you were being entirely honest—you were starting to tune it out—all of it: the apologies, the confusion, the arguing; all of it. A familiar sense of surrealism washed over you as you witnessed the events unfold; as you watched their mouths move soundlessly—your new brothers seemingly arguing with a woman who held the looks of your mother but seemed to act nothing like her.

It was weird, strange. You weren't even sure how to feel. From the looks of things, this... mother of yours seemed to not be around much—and one of your brothers hated her for it, while the other merely seemed to... well, you weren't entirely sure what he felt yet. Hell, you didn't even know what you were supposed to feel.

Should you be sad? Mad? Indifferent?—'cause that's what you felt right now. This world wasn't even meant to have you in it at all. There was no character named Y/N who looked exactly like you and had two older brothers with a seemingly neglectful mother and who-knows-what-happened-to-him father.

Even if you wanted to copy the mannerisms of the Y/N belonging to this world, you couldn't because there wasn't one. She didn't exist.

How the hell were you supposed to react?

You could've asked yourself that question a billion more times, but the sudden rush of air that hit your face crashed you straight back to reality—just in time too, for not even moments later, an abrupt 'slam!' echoed from behind.

Confused, your gaze found Cain's.

"Give him some time. He's probably off to go fuck some chick and get his mind off this."

Slowly, you nodded.

Then, you heard it; the sound of her voice continuing to speak behind you with that broken lilt—the one she just couldn't seem to drop—laced so deeply in her tone.

"I'm so sorry, babies." The woman—your mother—reached out, and you felt her fingers graze you again, "I'm so so sorry."

"It's... alright, mom," Cain responded before you could—voice seeming almost... hesitant, "It's all good."

There was no chatter after that—not a single sound escaped their lips. That was your cue; your cue to either condemn her down to hell or forgive her for this supposed neglect you weren't even around to experience.

"Sweetie..." her voice was shaky—desperate, no doubt, and seeking the forgiveness of a daughter that didn't even belong to her, "please..."

"Uh..." you weren't sure what it was, but something was holding you back from saying anything; from doing something—

—and it looked like she noticed that too.

"It's okay, I understand..."

She seems a bit... what's the word?

With hands that were once hopefully clasped around one another, now pitifully falling by her sides, and eyes that seemed to droop just a tad bit more despite the small, ingenuine quirk of her lips upwards; her whole demeanour almost screamed...

Ah. Forlorn.

Your chest felt heavy at the sight—tight and weighed down. Some type of... guilt was it? ebbed away at you. Though you didn't know why—it wasn't like she was your real mother, after all. In fact, she was a complete stranger to you; someone who you wouldn't even bother sondering over if you passed her by on the street.

How strange.

"Y/N," the soft call of your name caused your ears to perk up, and you turned to your remaining brother, "C'mon, you're due for a change."

"A change?" You tilted your head, eyes still not all there—at least, not until—

"Your bandages."

"Ohhh."

To be honest, you completely forgot about that.

"Bandages?" From the looks of things, though, your mother couldn't pass it off as easily as you. "For what?"

Immediately, Cain's eyes locked with yours—his hues swirling with a query you were able to decipher pretty easily: 'Should we tell her?'

Should you? Well, the fact that he had to ask that question in the first place was concerning, to say the least. Maybe you'd hold off on telling her for now. Just for now. Nothing permanent.

Mind made up and eyes stopping at nothing to avoid her own, you told your mother, "Don't worry about it, it's all good."

Her lips turned down, shoulders sagging and gaze falling to the floor like a glossy river over the edge of a cliff; swift and hopeless to anything wishing to stop it.

She looked so... so...

Defeated.

"Ah, okay."

You wished you could say you forgave her—you desperately prayed to—but how could you when the words refused to come out of your throat?—when they relentlessly fought with your tongue to the point they immobilised it and unfairly rendered you incapable of speech?

You could have stood there hopelessly staring at her for hours if you so wished, but the small tug on your wrist averted your gaze, and you found yourself staring at the loosened expression of your other kin.

"Let's get you wrapped up, Y/N."

You nodded.

He then took to guiding you towards the kitchen, and the whole way there, your gaze didn't leave your mother's form—watching as her figure grew smaller with each step—shorter with each breath—before completely disappearing around the corner.

"Don't feel bad."

Your ears perked up—head turning to face your older brother.

"'Bout mom," he continued, not particularly looking your way, "She hasn't been around for most of our lives, you're allowed to not forgive her."

"What about you?" You asked, "You didn't sound too sure of forgiving her yourself."

He paused.

"I..."—a rough 'ahem'—"I'm trying to."

You tilted your head. "Trying to?"

"It's..." He trailed off and furrowed his brows, as if searching for something in his mind, before continuing, "hard. Really hard. To look after people—I mean. Especially on your own."

It was your turn to furrow your brows, lips tugging down as you took in his words and really—well—thought for a good second.

It was clear that he was trying his best to be empathetic; to sympathise with her situation. And who better than him? You didn't have to be a genius to decipher the fact that he had been the one to take care of both you and Curt for pretty much the majority of your—supposed—'life'. He probably had to grow up a lot faster than 'you' would've. In that case, he could relate to her.

But, on the other hand...

"It's not fair."

"Huh?" He turned your way, blinking twice.

"To compare yourself to her," you continued, lips still curved down, "You're completely different. While she never bothered to be around, you did. You learned how to cook, clean—hell, maybe even change diapers—"

"Maybe even? You were a little shit and you know it—"

Shit, he changed your diapers too? You were just trying to be dramatic but damn.

"Okay—" that came off a little more exasperated than you wanted and clearly he could sense it too, judging by the way he snickered right after, little shit, "—my point is, you were there and she wasn't. And it's not even your responsibility to take care of us. I get that she has her supposed 'five-year-long' business trips, but she could've made time for us. You're her son too, you're allowed to be mad that she wasn't there."

He stayed silent for a few moments, and you found your hands naturally drifting down—fingers digging into your skirt harshly; anxiously. Sweat gathered on your brow and anticipation ate at your insides, chipping away at your organs and clogging your brain with worry; worry for the elongated silence that greeted your words.

Had you said something wrong? Was he going to snap at you?

Goodbye, cruel world, remember—

A chuckle.

Your ears perked up and your eyes widened in disbelief.

"And here I thought I was the one meant to be cheering you up." His shoulders bounced in a pattern you could only describe as uneven, one hand rising up to swipe at his eye.

The sight caused your muscles to loosen up, fingers losing their grip on your skirt and eyes crinkling fondly as you watched him reach up into an open cupboard—arm disappearing within the confines before reappearing not long after with a red, rectangular bag.

The sound of a zip was the next thing you heard—accompanied by his voice as he said, "Alright, let's get you all patched up, worm."

You scrunched up your nose. "Worm?"

"Yeah, annoying little things, aren't they?"

"Rude."

Another snicker had your lips quirking up again, a swirl of warmth gathering in your chest; a hint of fondness and pride. Was this how sibling banter felt?

It's... nice.

Before you could enjoy the moment any longer though, your brain just had to ruin it, giving you a thought that had your ears falling again—stomach dropping into a bottomless pit within the confines of your body.

"Is..." you started, and his ears perked up from behind the arm that slowly tugged at the grey gauze, "Is Curt gonna be okay?"

A scoff. "Yeah. You know him, he'll be super bitchy about it but he'll come running back tomorrow morning so don't worry."

You smiled. "So long as he's—ow! Watch it!"

"My bad."

"You did that on purpose."

"I did that on purpose."

"Asshole."

"D'aww, is wittle sissy's feewings hurt?"

"Shut up, you dick!"

You took it back, sibling banter was so not nice.

But, at least it was somewhat fun—unlike what happened next.

"Sweeties?" You tensed, head turning as Cain backed away—the warmth of his hand leaving you with new, pure white gauze around your arm—and turned with you. "I'm gonna head out for the night and go meet up with some old friends. Are you two going to be okay?"

Maybe if you were actually part of this world, you would've said something petty like 'nothing new there' or 'you've already not been around for most of my life, what's one more night?'—but, you weren't, and so settled with a good old fashioned—"We'll be fine,"—instead.

She was out the door in no less than two seconds.

It quickly grew dark following that—night approaching faster than you could register—and there had yet to be any sign of Curt. Guess Cain was right when he said the younger of the two would be back in the morning.

Speaking of Cain, he had some last minute call from a client regarding car troubles. Apparently, they were stranded and in dire need of assistance, so Cain was required to go to them in order to help—though, he was quite reluctant as he, no doubt, voiced to you.

"Oh my god, Cain, I'll be fine." You rolled your eyes.

"Are you sure? This street isn't exactly known for safety," he responded, expression scrunched up with what you recognised as pure worry.

"God, you're just like Steve. Nothing will happen, don't worry."

When the corner of his lips quirked up in response to your words, you felt something akin to dread claw at your innards. "Oh, I'm just like Steve, am I?"

"Shut up, he has a girlfriend," you were saying that more to yourself than him, to be honest.

"Yeah, that he drops anytime you're within two feet of him."

"I swear to god, Cain."

He snickered.

"Just go! I know you're doing this just to stall, go find that poor person stranded by the phone booth!"

"Okay, okay, I'm going."

And as his shoulders kept jerking up and down, your hand found purchase against the bumpy texture of your wooden door before pushing at full force; a 'slam!' echoing not long after.

"Stupid piece of shit," you grumbled, though, not genuinely.

...okay, maybe just a little genuinely actually, 'cause now he put the stupid thought in your head; the stupid thought of Steve Harrington actually liking you.

Preposterous.

He probably just thought of you as a really close friend—he supposedly knew you since childhood, after all, of course he would value you over Nancy sometimes.

But... theoretically, say he felt more, what would it be like?

Would he hold your hand and pull you in close? Whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you lay against him in the dead of night?—sinking into his warmth and stuffing your face in his sturdy chest. Would his lips feel soft against the bare skin of your neck?—passionate and sublime as he marked you up as his own, going lower and lower and—

Three knocks against your door.

Ugh.

"Oh my god, Cain, how many times—? Nancy?"

Lo and behold, there stood the very girlfriend of the guy you were just fantasising about.

Honestly, you would've thought it awkward had you not caught a glimpse of her expression; just a glance long enough to bleed you dry of all your previous thoughts and scrunch your face up as a whole new set rushed in—worrisome ones.

Her eyes were bloodshot, red veins visible and bringing out the puffiness to a degree that had your heart clenching and your lips subconsciously parting open to ask, "Are you alright?"

She gulped, voice shaky as she responded with, "Can I come in?"

Slowly, you nodded—palm pushing against the door just enough to allow it to fall slightly more ajar.

"Here, come sit." You gestured to the couch, hands hesitantly ghosting over her shoulders as you guided her there—watching as she gently sat down, the cotton shifting under her weight. "Can I get you anything?"

She didn't respond: head tilted down, shoulders drooped, and overall demeanour looking to be completely put-off. The poor thing.

You figured a cup of water would be fine, she looked like she needed it.

What was she doing here, anyway? From what you gathered based on the very few interactions you'd had with her, the two of you weren't very close. Why, then, would she suddenly show up at your door so late at night?

Those thoughts plagued your mind as you made your way over to the kitchen—bare feet numb to the cool of the floor. They haunted you as you reached for a cup with one hand and twisted the tap with the other—fingers unfeeling of the pressure that rained upon them. They consumed your entire being until you were left with nothing but the husk of a person on autopilot—quietly making your way back to the living room.

It was only when your eyes landed on her form again, that you snapped out of it in a small burst of surprise.

Gone was the once sat-down figure with an air of dismay clouding her form—replaced, instead, by one that stood up straight, brows furrowed and shoulders tensed as she paced back and forth vigorously. Keyword: paced—she stopped as soon as you arrived, much to your own confusion.

"Nancy, what are you—?"

"You're thinking about Barb too, right?"

She looked you dead in the eyes, and you almost found yourself growing fidgety under her intense gaze.

"What?"

"It's just that..." she trailed off, faltering for a moment, "well, Steve mentioned you've been acting off lately—"

Shit. Steve was catching on.

"—and I was wondering if... it was bothering you too."

You blinked, parting your lips to ask for a little more—for some sort of elaboration—but her voice continued before you even had a chance.

"I mean, it's dumb that we have to keep this whole thing a secret!" She exclaimed, hands making wild gestures now. "Her family deserves to know."

You stood there, blinking in a daze that hadn't quite passed since the moment she arrived. It felt like you had just wandered into a confusing maze, with twists and turns spanning as far as the eye could see; each one riddled with its own set of confusing obstacles you couldn't quite wrap your head around.

On one hand, Nancy's words made sense, you saw why she felt that way—you heard her—and it was so much more prominent in person than over a screen.

On the other hand, as a viewer of the show and a victim of unfortunate circumstance, you hadn't a clue where she was going with this. You knew why she was telling you all of this (you were acting strange and she was feeling off so duh she would try and see if you related) but, where was she going with it? What did she want with you? Surely it wasn't just comfort.

"Do you... want to come with me to tell her parents?"

Ah. There it was.

She wanted you to join her. This was certainly quite the twist. Everything that had happened up until now had alluded to the fact that you were going to join Steve for this season—and to be honest, you preferred that over this.

Besides, she was meant to do all of this with Jonathan—if you said yes, you'd just be getting in the way of their romance and, ergo, the plot itself.

"I don't know..." you started, mind already made up but heart trying its best to ease her into it, "the government wouldn't really like that and we could get in a ton of trouble."

She scoffed. "Who gives a fuck what they think?"

You deadpanned. "Well, Nance, they are kinda the government so..."

"There's this guy," she started, cutting you off and handing you a card, "Barb's parents told me about him—if things don't work out, we can go to him."

Sure enough, you recognised the character as soon as she mentioned him—another prominent adult within the series, quite the funny one too. But, not funny enough for you to pass up spending this season helping out Steve instead.

"Look, Nancy, I—"

You were cut off when her gaze hardened, fists clenching and head shaking from side-to-side—almost seeming disappointed.

"God, you're just like him." And when she spoke, it was bitter—plagued with an icky green—"You two are perfect for each other."

The following events happened too quickly for you to register; one second, she was standing before you with desperation clear on her visage—the next?—she had snatched the card right out from your hands and stormed over to your front door, steps heavy and quaking and loud.

"Nance, wait! Nancy!"

A slam.

Well shit.

You bit your lip, brain replaying the events that had just occurred in too rapid of a succession for you to be able to even respond to them.

A small voice prodded at the back of your mind, lulling you into following after her and clearing up... whatever the hell that was.

However, a much larger, more prominent voice said, fuck it. Because—well, you were in Stranger Things for god's sake! Who the hell cared about some teen drama when there were fucking monsters to worry about?—monsters that you sure as hell weren't about to face weaponless.

Nancy could get over whatever was bothering her so much on her own, you had bigger issues to worry about.

Come on, Y/N, get your head out of the clouds and into the game.

Resolve strengthened and distractions now temporarily at the back of your mind, your feet bounded towards a familiar box mounted onto the wall, fingers wrapping around the cool metal before you punched in a number you had long since memorised over your time in this world.

Turned out, this drama was just the push you needed.

"Harrington residence."

"Steve."

It was silent for a few seconds before you were graced with a response. "Y/N? If you're calling about the dinner at Barb's, I swear—"

"No, no. It's not that, don't worry."

Another pause.

"Are you... okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"You sure? You sound a little... tense."

Your lips quirked up. "You can tell?"

"Well, yeah. I've known you since like, birth."

Leave it to Steve Harrington to put a smile on your face where there wasn't one before.

Seriously though, you might not have actually known him since birth but... something about him noticing how you felt from just the sound of your voice made you feel all... tingly inside—like a warm cloud of pure pink coated you within its comfy confines.

"Y/N? You there?"

"Oh." You jolted, fingers halting in their ministrations with the phone wire, since when did you start twirling it around? "Uh, yeah. I just called to let you know I'm skipping tomorrow so don't bother picking me up, okay?"

"You're skipping? What? Why?"

"Just—uh, don't feel like it."

"You know you've already missed seven days, right?"

"Yeah—" you shrugged as though he could see you, "—what's a couple more?"

"...alright, if that's what you want."

"Thanks Stevie, you're the best, love you!"

You slammed the phone back into the wall before he could respond, but you imagined he released quite the long sigh after your words.

Nevermind that though, you should probably head to bed—you had a long day ahead of you tomorrow; one consisting of many preparations for the challenges that lay ahead.

First things first, you needed yourself a weapon—and no, a wrench was not ideal. You got lucky the first time, you'd rather not risk it the second.

A gun; long reach, high chances of actually killing, probably easy to use—it sounded perfect. Just the thing you'd need. The only problem you could possibly see was...

...how would you get one?

You weren't terribly familiar with gun laws—never had the need to look into them—but even if you were, they definitely changed since the 80s so you were pretty much clueless in that regard.

You could ask one of your brothers if they had one, they certainly seemed like the type—at least, Curt definitely did.

Or maybe he's the type to only fight with his fists?

Tricky—that's what this all was. So tricky, in fact, that the rest of the night was spent contemplating how you would go about obtaining the lethal weapon—

—actually, that wasn't entirely true; you sure wished it was though. Unfortunately for you however, your brain rather stupidly refused to focus on the task at hand, randomly flushing you with thoughts of both your... mother and Nancy whenever you least expected it, two huge pieces of drama that you—quite frankly—didn't feel like dealing with.

But apparently, pushing them to the back of your mind was easier said than done.

Come next morning, you figured indulging in those thoughts wouldn't be too big of a headache after being well-rested with a nice cup of coffee to aid you through your day.

Okay, so, Nancy's behaviour last night wasn't too strange; she had that dinner at Barb's—one you knew she cried at since they dedicated a whole scene to her sobbing in the bathroom. That explained why she was quick to jump to aggression you guessed.

Still, it was strange how she snapped at you (basically her acquaintance) like how she had done Steve (her literal boyfriend) in the show. Did you get something wrong? Were you two closer than you thought you were? Perhaps you had some history with her you weren't aware of.

Unfortunately, until you had more information, you were gonna have to leave that trail of thought.

Now, about your mother...

"Morning, sis."

You nodded—eyes clouded—before responding with, "Morning Cain," and then, as if just registering who you were talking to after their name spilled from your lips, your eyes cleared up and you turned to continue with a much more firm voice, "Hey, do you know if we have any guns at home?"

He paused, one hand rested against the handle of the fridge, one floating mid-air. "Guns?"

"Yeah, guns."

He turned to you fully now, eyes narrowing and sturdy arms folding over his chest as the door shut behind him. "Why would you need to know where the guns are?"

The lie was quick to form on your tongue. "For self-defence, duh."

"Uh-huh."

"Please Cain—" you clasped both hands over each other, "—I promise I won't hurt anyone with them."

Not anyone human, at least.

"You do realise they're made for hurting people, right?"

"Yeah, but I won't use them that way."

He deadpanned. "You're not getting a gun."

"Dammit."

Okay, this was fine. You could work with this. He just confirmed to you that you did, in fact, have guns in this house. All you had to do was look for them. And you knew just where to start.

"Uh, where the hell are you going?"

You paused, hand grazing the bumpy, wooden rail as you tilted your head just enough to peek into the kitchen again. "To my room, where else?"

"Don't you have school?"

"Don't you have a job?"

He crossed his arms again. "You're not skipping, shitbird."

"What?"

"I said: you aren't skipping."

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping open and stomach falling with the spoilt remains of your plan—the ashes and dust piling up enough to cause you to splutter and ask, "You serious?"

His gaze was stern, holding no hint of that playful demeanour you acquainted yourself with last night, "Completely. No playing hooky. You've already got enough absents from that injury of yours."

As if suddenly reminded of its own existence, said wound sent a shock down your arm—trailing through your veins to usher a visible wince on your face.

Before you could say anything else though—plead your case and hope to god he'd let you off—his eyes widened a little, mouth forming a circle before he spoke again, saying, "That's why Harrington ain't here, right? You told him you were skipping?"

You said nothing.

A long, highly exasperated sigh. "Just go get ready, I'll drop you off."

He didn't have to tell you twice.

You rushed up the stairs, wasting no time to burst into a room flooded with posters—all holding different expressions with one, huge thing in common; a pair of bright red gloves.

If anyone had a gun, it was definitely Curt.

Tick. Tock. You were on a time constraint so you had to be quick with this. Anything that even remotely seemed to have enough space to hold a gun inside was instantly ripped open—hinges jingling and wood slamming against wood as your hands scurried the area—rummaged through the masses—desperately seeking what they had yet to find.

That was—until, now.

In the midst of multiple hung up pieces of soft materials shrouded in darkness, your fingers grazed something cold and solid; rough and bumpy. Slowly they wound around the thing, noting its shape, before exerting a force—a tug.

Nothing. It didn't budge.

You tried again, pushing this time.

Again. Nothing.

Third time's the charm.

This time, you pushed upwards.

Bingo.

As if by magic, it fell straight into your hands, and you wasted no time to pull it into the light.

Dark, L-shaped, and a lever poking out from one side—yup, there was no doubt about it. Though, it was one of the weaker variants of the lethal weapon—it would have to do.

Now you could—

"What are you doing in my room?"

Curt. Shit.

"Scratch that—what are you doing with a gun?!"

Your wrist was seized at the entrance before you could even attempt to sneak past—his E/C eyes trained on the object in your hand, not at all paying attention to the way your expression shifted into one of unease, smile twitching a little.

"Curt, hey! When did you come in..?"

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed, "Why do you have a gun? Is someone bothering you at school? You know you can say the word and I'll take care of it, right? Like in Freshman year?"

"Freshman year?" What happened in Freshman year?

"That dickhead Senior who kept picking on you? How did you forget that already?"

You parted your lips, an excuse practically begging to be released from your tongue, but he beat you to it.

"Nevermind, just tell me who it is and I'll take care of it. There's no need to bring a gun into it."

There's no need to bring a gun but it's totally okay beating them up? Some scuffed logic there.

"No one's bothering me, Curt. I uh, I just need it to kill the wolf that attacked me the other day."

He rose a brow. "Kill the wolf that attacked you the other day?"

"Uh... yup."

God, this was so stupid. What kind of excuse was that? 'Kill the wolf that attacked you the other day'? Yeah right.

"Atta girl. That's my sister."

A good excuse apparently—it was a good excuse.

You almost couldn't believe it—the way he pulled you in, wrapping his arm around your neck in a half-hug that almost made it seem as though he was proud of you.

Surely he had taken way too many hits to the head in his profession because you had no clue how he bought that.

But, you weren't complaining.

"Hey, uh, do me a favour?"

He rose a brow. "What?"

"Don't tell Cain, yeah?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course not, he'd have my head in a heartbeat if he knew I was condoning this."

You grinned, just about ready to give him two thumbs up leaking gratitude and appreciation—when a voice called from downstairs.

"Y/N! Hurry up!"

"A few more minutes!"

That was your cue to go to your room.

Cool air hit your skin as soon as the cotton of your sleepwear was removed—the slight buzz of pain on your arm making itself known once more with another prick, annoying but not unbearable; not like before.

The new bandages looked better than the previous ones; cleaner. Some spots seemed to have given in—allowing red to seep through their snow-white sheets; stain their pure surface. Those parts were stickier than the others, but also, few and far between.

Damn, kinda looks badass.

"I'm not getting any younger here, Y/N!"

"I'm coming! Gheez."

What was that? His catchphrase or something?

With a roll of your eyes, you threw on a top, slipped into a skirt, very quickly touched up on your make-up, and ran down the steps. Nothing too elaborate—you didn't plan on actually going into school anyway.

What? You said you'd skip, so you were gonna skip. You'd just wait 'till he drove off or something.

Actually... this could work out better than you thought.

He was bringing you to school; where one Steve Harrington currently was. And you know what else was at school? Steve's BMW—AKA, the perfect place to store your gun until it was needed.

Yeah, this could work out perfectly.

"Get in, shitbird."

You said nothing, seizing the frigid handle like you had done many a time before, and climbing straight in.

The sky was bleak—the sun invisible; covered by the vast curtain of grey clouds that seemed uninteresting but, for some reason, you couldn't stop looking at.

The pistol you held was tucked under you—out of sight; though not of mind. It felt cool against your skin, sent a shudder through you, up your spine and through your nerves. It kept you rigid.

"I would've let you skip."

You turned, observing the way Cain's gaze stayed trained onto the road ahead, one hand on the wheel, one resting on his lap.

"On any normal circumstance," he continued, shrugging, "but y'know, mom's home and—I don't know if you wanna stick around for that."

"Okay."

"You good?" Now he gave you a bit of a side-eye, one brow raised.

"Yeah, just... thinking about what I'm gonna wear for the Halloween bash at Tina's."

That was a lie, you honestly couldn't care less.

"Party, huh?" He turned his gaze back ahead. "I remember the ragers I used to go to way back when."

"Must've been fun, huh fossil?"

"Watch it, worm."

You snickered.

"Alright, we're here. Get out before I make you."

Older brothers are a piece of work.

You shimmied in your seat, swinging both legs over to the open door, hand firmly around the handle of the weapon beneath your thighs, when—

"What are you doing?"

You froze. "Uh, I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're getting out of the car weirdly." His tone was pointed—suspicious—and even without having to turn around, you could tell his brow was raised in question.

"No I'm not."

"Uh, yeah you are."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

Slowly, you found yourself able to move your limbs again—annoyance bringing both them and your own brow to life, filtering out any previous fear within an instant. "Don't you have work or something?"

You heard nothing for a few tense moments—though soon, a curt—"Just go,"—made its way to your ears, and the weight on your shoulders was relieved of you.

Once again, you found yourself thinking, he didn't have to tell you twice.

The cool air almost felt relieving against your skin when you finally jumped out—the 'crunch!' of pebbles echoing beneath you—but nothing could compare to the pure amount of genuine solace you were graced with when the sound of the engine starting up again behind you danced into your ears; the sound of wheels skidding across the ground slowly growing farther.

That was a little too close for your liking.

No matter, it was time to find Steve's BMW. While looking for it, though, you might as well review your thoughts.

The events of Season 2 had already kicked off the moment you saw Billy, which meant that while you waited for the next canonical event to occur with the teens, the main group of kids were having their own scenes play out. You were sure by now they were off trying to befriend Billy's stepsister. But, quite frankly, that was irrelevant information to you.

What was relevant, however, was the fact that one of the kids—Dustin Henderson—would end up dragging Steve into quite the predicament. That predicament being one wherein he would end up being surrounded by a bunch of grotesque, man-eating monsters with nothing but a bat to defend himself with—granted, it had nails on the end but it was still not a weapon you'd use.

Now, more likely than not, you would be by his side while it all went down—and you already established that you weren't about to die in this world, so, really, your only option was getting that gun to use in case those demon dogs changed their minds and decided they wanted a taste of fresh, alternative dimension meat.

You had seen first-hand what they were like—held scars they forced onto you on your first day. You felt that chilling fear grip you at the sight of them—chain your limbs up and strangle you enough to almost render you immovable; immobile. Their boney structure, their razor-sharp teeth, their—

"N/N? What are you doing here?"

You jumped, startled out of your thoughts to meet with two pools of brown—familiar in their warmth and softened edges.

"I thought you were playing hooky today."

"Oh, uh—" you cleared your throat, patting down the ruffles of your skirt and avoiding any eye-contact, "—I still am but, Cain caught me and drove me to school so."

He didn't say anything after that, so you took to peering up again. This time, however, you were met with a different set of eyes, ones looking a little bloodshot and inflamed—barely noticeable if you hadn't already seen it the previous night.

They were looking at you through narrowed lenses, pupils shrunk in and gaze heavy with the events of the other night—the distaste of that fateful encounter.

You looked away.

"Oh, uh, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I uh, left some of my lipstick in your car, do you mind if I go grab it?"

You returned your gaze to him just in time to catch the pointed look on his face, hands on his hips in that 'mom' way that just screamed Steve Harrington.

"Really, N/N? This is—what?—like the tenth time already?"

You forced a sheepish look, turning your lips up with nerves that weren't triggered by the sentence you'd just heard, per se—but rather, the pair of eyes still burning a hole through your head.

You ignored them when Steve tossed you the keys with a playful roll of his eyes; when you half-entered the car, stuffing the gun into a compartment you knew he wouldn't open anytime soon; you even ignored them as you made your way back to the duo, handing Steve his keys back and quickly denying his offer to cut class with you.

"You sure?" He pushed, brows scrunched up and lips tugged down.

"Yup!" You rose both thumbs. "Hundred percent!"

He parted his mouth open but you didn't wait for a response, turning around quickly to scurry off with those eyes still refusing to leave your backside.

Why the hell did she have to be there?

You couldn't even enjoy your successful little quest, too tense from Nancy's heavy gaze to do anything. It was as though the moment you saw her, your brain instantly replayed the events of last night—the disdain in her voice—and from the looks of her glare, she had the same problem.

Man, this sucked.

You just wanted to experience the world of Stranger Things as safely and non-dramatically as possible but noooo, you had to deal with freaking monsters and teenage girls who—

"Woah, we have got to stop bumping into each other like this."

Your lashes fluttered, eyes training onto a familiar battle jacket littered with logos a plenty—all of which belonged to heavy metal bands.

"Eddie."

"Hey, sweetheart." His lips quirked up—smile reaching his eyes so much so that they crinkled. "What are you doing here? I thought you were playing hooky?"

You deadpanned. "Does everyone know I'm skipping?"

"Well, you are kinda the Queen Bee, sweetheart." His hair bounced as he shrugged.

A thought occurred to you just then, and you found your eyes widening slightly in alarm. "Even the teachers?!"

"Well, no wastoid is exactly going to tell any teachers that the Queen of Hawkins High is skipping."

Wastoid? Wha—?

"Hey, uh—" you blinked, watching as Eddie took to throwing a hand behind his neck, rubbing against the skin as he continued, tone feigning confidence, "—I was actually planning on skipping too so, if you want, we could hotbox in my car?"

Tempting. With all this stress from Nancy, your mom, and the demodogs—weed seemed like the perfect thing to kick back to.

You deserved some time to relax, no?

"Yeah, sure, let's do it."

He perked up, excitement seeping through the grin on his lips as he dramatically bowed with one hand stretched out. "Right this way, milady."

You giggled, your own hand rising up to rest gently against his as you tried your damndest to keep from squealing because—holy shit, you were holding Eddie Munson's hand. You knew girls who would fucking kill to be in your position right now.

His skin was hot against your own; or maybe that was just your whole body heating up in general. You couldn't deny your attraction to the man—hell, you got literal heart eyes whenever you watched him on TV.

Eddie Munson—the guy who got held back in high-school for two years (well—one year as of right now). Eddie Munson—the guy who held the personality of a fun, playful ray of sunshine despite the way he dressed. Eddie Munson—the guy who sacrificed himself to save a whole town of people who abhorred him.

Yeah, you had a big, fat crush on the man.

He could literally be leading you to your death right now and you'd thank him.

"Alright," the sound of a car door sliding open perked your ears up, "I just got a new batch rolling in from Cali so—"

He cut himself off when he turned back around, jaw falling slack as a streak of red slowly crawled across his face, tinging the tips of his ears and ushering a cough straight out of his mouth.

Now, you would normally wonder why he'd reacted that way but you were too distracted by the ache of your own cheeks to—

Ohhh. The ache of your own cheeks.

You quickly cleared your throat, steeling your expression and cursing yourself for being so obvious. Gushing so blatantly in front of characters was going to get you killed in this world, you really had to get rid of that habit.

Lord knew what type of ridiculous expression you had on your face just then.

"Right, uh, you were saying?" You asked as you climbed in, willing yourself to ignore what had just happened.

"Oh, uh, I just had a new batch come in from Cali."

You perked up, interest piqued. "From Cali?! They have the best stuff."

He grinned with you, blush calming down as he rummaged around, hands digging through the many different boxes that scattered the floor.

Meanwhile, you took to shutting the door of the vehicle. Come to think of it, this van kinda looked a bit like the mystery van from scooby doo, except, without the colour.

It was a mess on the inside; if there weren't boxes of who-knows-what substances lying around, then there were various different instruments instead, nothing differing from the norm associated with a band; and yet, just the fact that Eddie was here—that all of this belonged to him—was enough to make it feel special.

You should really ask Eddie if you could sit in on one of his practices one day.

Speaking of the drug dealer, he finally emerged from the pile of boxes hidden in the corner—a plastic zip bag containing a crushed substance within one of his ring-clad hands.

He flicked it with a grin on his face, head turning up as a pair of excited pools met with your own. "Bag of peaceful bliss right here."

You watched with intrigue as his fingers got to work, rolling up the substance effortlessly, as if he'd done it a million times before—which, granted, he probably had.

"Ladies first."

Your lips quirked up, fingers winding around the roll and, in turn, brushing against his own. It was a light touch—a feathery brush—still, it was enough to run tingles down your arm.

The stick was placed to your mouth with one hand, the other curling in on itself in a gesture that asked Eddie to pass over the lighter.

His large hand slowly came to cup your own, fingers engulfing yours—sending warmth to circulate in your blood; to flood your vision in pink—before lightly moving it away. "Allow me, sweetheart."

You didn't move, staying still as he pulled the metallic box up to your face, thumb flicking against the open lid a few times before the flame jumped to life.

It was hot; unbearably so—his breath across your face. The flame was practically nothing compared to him and his proximity. And it only got hotter as you continued staring at him.

It was because you were staring at him so intensely, in fact, that you caught the way his eyes briefly flickered. It was quick, barely noticeable—but you had noticed, and you had seen where they looked.

Your lips quirked up and you took the roll out of your mouth, puffing smoke straight into his face. "Staring at my lips, huh, pretty boy?"

Your grin only grew when he spluttered.

Before he could respond, though, you had lightly shoved the roll into his mouth—lips still quirked up.

You only withdrew when he rose two fingers to rest the cigar against.

"Hey, Eddie?"

He blinked.

"You're not gonna make me pay for this, are you?"

The roll left his mouth with a puff. "Depends."

As he placed it back inside, you rose a brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, oh."

"Well..." you trailed off, slowly shifting your hips up before plopping them back down—

—straight. onto. his. lap.

His breath audibly hitched; a series of coughs following not long after.

"Careful," you hissed out, plucking the roll from his lips and shifting in your seat—about to climb off—when a warmth snaked its way around your waist, rendering you motionless.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Heat crawled up your spine, invading your senses and hyperfixating your attention on Eddie and the way his lips grazed the lobe of your ear. Any and all previous thoughts were washed away; taking with them your breath.

His hand fell over your own again, ushering the substance back into your mouth and your eyes grew heavy as you took another puff, melting into putty in the arms of the school freak.

The car was quickly fogging up—everywhere you breathed was starting to have that strong, earthy taste to it.

Trippy.

You pulled away, mind hazy and barely able to register the way his lips tugged down.

With just a little wiggle of your hips, his arms fell and his brows scrunched up with worry. You didn't let him voice it though, quickly turning around to lay down and prop your elbows up on his thighs—arms almost immediately going lax once you got comfortable.

Your head now rested on his lap, and you peered up at him through hooded eyes. "Much better."

He smiled down at you again, finger moving to trace your cheek with that same feathery touch from before—the one that elicited a flurry of tingles through your skin.

"Tell me about yourself, Eds."

"Hm?"

"I wanna know you better."

Better than you already did, that was.

"What d'you wanna know?" He asked.

"Anything." You threw your hands up, puffing once more. "I wanna know more 'bout Super Senior Eddie Munson."

He hummed. "I plan to make it big one day."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Groupies 'n everything."

You reached up, placing the blunt against his lips as you proclaimed loudly, "I bet they would trip over 'emselves to get a taste of you."

He winked. "That's what 'm planning." Then, he paused for a minute, expression softening before another inquiry left his mouth. "What about you?"

"Me?"

What were you planning? Survival, really. But, to be honest—and this wasn't just the weed speaking (or was it? You couldn't really tell)—you just wanted to experience the show; meet the characters and bond over little things. Kinda like what you were doing right now.

"I plan on..."

The characters from this show were precious, and you loved them all to bits. They didn't deserve any of what happened to them, that was why you planned on...

"...protecting those I love."

Yeah, perfect.

His eyes widened a little—startled, no doubt, and not expecting that kind of response from you. The perfect opportunity to trip him up more.

"Wanna be one of them?"

He already was one but—he didn't know that.

You assumed he must've been too flustered to talk, because he didn't respond to that—only choosing to continuously blink at you.

This weed was sure making your confidence sky rocket.

Speaking of things the weed was doing for you—your vision was tripping majorly.

The ceiling seemed to zoom in, but also zoom out at the same time, and sometimes you swore you could see the detailed wisps of the smoke that flooded the car's inside; the very atoms that made them up.

Colours were hard to register in your mind; their names even harder—but, with how relaxed the fumes were making you and your tensed muscles, you couldn't really bring yourself to care.

And Eddie—oh Eddie—he just looked so pretty to you right now; so jaw-dropping and mesmerising. Even with how red his eyes were and the extent at which his pupils dilated, they still looked tremendously pretty. His lips were so cute, pink and begging for attention.

You couldn't help it; the way your hand reached out to cup his cheek and guide his head down. Luckily, though, you still had enough sense to tilt his head enough so that instead of your lips touching, your noses did.

If you were going to kiss Eddie, it sure as hell wasn't happening while you were high.

"Y'know," Eddie breathed into your eyes, causing them to flutter shut as you hummed, "I used to think you were a huge bitch."

That shot your eyes open.

"I mean, when you stuck around with people like Tommy H and Carol, it was kinda hard not to."

Ah. Steve's former friends.

"Not to mention King Steve. Though, I don't know if I should call him that anymore."

"'Cause of Billy?"

"Yeah." He chuckled. "Have you seen him? It's only, like, his second day and he's got girls wrapped around his finger like it's nothing."

"I'm sure it'll stay that way permanently too."

"Yeah, he seems like the type to like it."

"Hm?"

"The attention."

Your lips tugged down. "Are you implying something, Eddie?"

"...maybe a little."

Your frown grew deeper. "Y'know, Eds, you shouldn't judge people without getting to know them first."

"Oh? And I suppose you know a ton about Hargrove, huh?"

You narrowed your eyes before you spoke again—tone laced in warning—"Eddie."

He rose both hands, and you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"My bad."

"It's okay, let's just forget about it," you said, "I came here to relax and enjoy some time away from stress."

"Stress?"

Well, you supposed it wouldn't be the end of the world if you shared a little with the class.

"Nancy said something... weird to me the other night."

"Harrington's girl?"

"Yeah... she sounded bitter."

"Maybe she was jealous."

You moved to sit up but Eddie was quick to push you back down, both hands placed firmly—yet gently—on your shoulders. "Jealous?"

"Yeah."

"Why would she be jealous for?"

He scoffed. "Oh please, you and Harrington are attached at the hip—if I were your boyfriend, I would be jealous."

For a moment, you allowed yourself to ignore the hypothetical scenario of Eddie being your boyfriend, if only to pay more attention to the apparent green creature that held Nancy by the neck.

Could it be? Was she jealous? Was that why she reacted as strongly as she did when you tried to let her down slowly?

"Hey now, whatever you're thinking, stop thinking it." Eddie's finger tapped against your cheek, sending tiny ripples through your skin. "You said it yourself, you're here to relax, not to stress."

He couldn't be more right.

And with that thought in mind, you sank deeper into the warmth of Eddie's lap, pure safety and comfort shrouding your form—blanketing you so nicely in the soothing presence that was Eddie Munson.

And as your eyes fluttered shut, you whispered one last thing with a warm smile, "This was nice. Thank you, Eddie."

@bdudette, @tanyaherondale, @killerqueenfan, @l3xiluve, @thedoubleexposurephotography, @xxqueenofdemonsxx, @briarsheart, @nickey-diano, @uselessbutinteresting, @steeldaisies, @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom, @patheticreative, @majestichugs, @eddiesbitch83, @secretdryrose, @bloodywickedvamp, @charlizekkelly, @sophiaj650, @mfnqueen1, @axionn, @harrysgoldenwatermelon, @simpfo, @adrienette715, @tippyeddy

I've been watching a lot of zombie stuff recently so I was wondering how Steve, Eddie, and Billy would react to a zombie apocalypse. I'm tempted to write an au but I need to focus on the next part 😭

Tell you what, if the masterlist to this series ever reaches 500 notes, I'll write a zombie apocalypse AU (Edit: Holy shit, it's at 400, wtf?)

420 notes · View notes

clarks-letterman · 9 months

Text

what are you doing, step-bro? | steve harrington x reader

a/n — something short to get out of that slump! title isnt serious just the inspo behind the fic, enjoy!

words — 1.9k

summary — After a close encounter in the tunnels with the Demo-dogs, Steve finds you in a defenseless position.

warnings — reader is stuck in a "wall", anal, dirty talk, y'all know the drill by now, biblically accurate hairy steve harrington!

~~~

“Guys? Help!”

What had been an easy mission for the Party—traversing the tunnels under Hawkins to cover as much of it with gasoline—didn’t come easy for you. You found yourself buddied up with Steve, who suggested that the two of you split up when you hit a fork in the road. It made sense, each of you had a tank of gasoline, and there seemed to be no presage of danger in either path.

Then came the time when you ran out of something to douse the infected trails with, and you used your walkie, an old and unreliable TRC-206 model, to let the rest of the group know that you were on your way back to their designated meeting place. While retracing your steps, you heard a screech come from the direction you were heading back to. Your eyes darted for a place to hide, and in the dark, bluish-black tunnels, you spotted a faint red glow coming from the tunnel’s wall to your left. You darted to it, assuming that it had to lead to a little divot or room that the creature couldn’t get to. In some long stretch of your willfulness, it led to the tunnel Steve went down and you could get him to fend the alien off. It was a shot in the dark but maybe it would hit the creature head-on and confuse it long enough to save your ass from becoming an otherworldly snack.

You felt like a mouse scampering to its burrow in the night when something stirs.

But the hole was too small, and even though you could fit your upper half in, it was a struggle to get it out. You were embedded into the wall. The rest of your body was stuck on the outside of the thing you now knew to be a portal, as the air and view reflected the stories that members of the Party had shared with you—all of them being their experiences with the Upside Down. Tufted spores floated around you and reacted to your panicked breathing. You tried several times to free yourself but knew it was impossible thanks to the welling of gasoline at your feet, making it impossible to get a solid footing on the ground.

Every channel laid dormant—static being returned as you waited for an answer. Distant calls of the same monster you heard in the tunnel echoed around you here. Footsteps approached, but they were lighter, more focused, and less sporadic like an animal charging at its food. It was the human kind of gait as only two steps could be heard every second or so.

You should have known that splitting up would mean an awkward reunion. You felt at ease when Steve’s voice was the one coming from behind you. He was still in the real world and could pull you back into it. “Hey—jeez, what happened?”

“Steve, thank fuck. I tried hiding from one of those demo-monsters and got stuck. Watch out, it might still be out there.”

“I didn’t see anything, but I don’t want to wait in here to be proven wrong.” Steve shrugged off his backpack and let it hit the ground. The sound of an empty canister of gasoline rang through the tunnel.

“Get me out of here and we can handle it together, at least.” You swore Steve could have agreed, but the worlds-apart separation made some things he said unclear.

Steve spread his stance out to get as close as possible whilst not getting his shoes muddied from the infected soil and gasoline mixture at your feet. His hands—gloved and still coated with moisture and bits of dirt—took ahold of the bottom of your torso just about where the hem of your jeans hugged your body. At first, he tried pulling, a lot of pulling. When you didn’t budge, he got closer and pressed as much of himself as he could against you to find some leverage.

“C’mon…” He groaned. “I’ve never dealt with something this tight before…”

He wasn’t ready to accept defeat, not yet. There was no way in hell he would leave you stuck in the wall, Steve was firm on that. He couldn’t help but feel like he was trying to help a square that actually fit through a circular hole. Steve knew he wasn’t too far off, they were already in a place they didn’t belong in, and this tunnel system must have had passageways for creatures that surely weren’t human. As expected, his countless efforts to pull you back didn’t work.

Steve reached under you, pushing up the layers on your upper half and undoing the button on your jeans. His gloves gave him a bit of trouble but he undid it nonetheless. Cold air ruminated on your skin in all the places where your jeans used to be. You couldn’t see what he had done, but you could feel it and felt the sudden urge to ask.

“What are you doing?” The sensation of fabric layered over itself, irregularly touching you around only your shins and lower let you know he had pulled any sort of protection over your bottom half down.

“Maybe if I loosen you up, rock you back and forth a little, you’ll slip right out? It’s the right kind of movement we need, and it’ll be more fun than doing it clothed, restricting ourselves, yeah?” Steve stepped away, the heat coming off of him and onto you following him back. It wasn’t really Steve that was the issue. No, it was the situation. The noise, the heat signature—if it could read that—would be potential giveaways to your not-so-successful hiding spot.

Your view on it didn’t change, “All I need is your help, Steve.”

“All you needed was a chance to spread your legs for me and you’d do it.” The faint sound of a belt buckle, then a zipper, then the two falling in tandem play out one by one. You couldn’t see it, but he was cupping himself in his one hand. When a tent formed, he stroked himself through his boxers.

What else could you do but insist on him to quit playing games, “Just help me out, Steve.”

His presence ghosted over you again, some of his leg hair gently bristling against your own skin. His boxers must have been gone by this point, though you couldn’t be sure. “I have to help myself, first.”

“This is kind of your fault since you got me all distracted. You couldn’t go crawling in the opposite direction? Well, if it had to be your mouth I’m stuck with…” You felt a smack to your ass. His gloves were gone, probably thrown to the floor and pulled off with his mouth so he could easily send his hand flying down against your markable skin. “But this is even better.”

Steve was his own shade of red and monstrous. His cock, hot and heavy, could faintly be seen as a raging red in the soft blue glow in the underbelly of Hawkins. Blood rushed to the place he struck with his palm the same way it did to his dick. He was fully hard, and you were still solid enough to stay in place—even with his giddyap smack. Then a sharp pain—more painful than a claw or tooth from one of those Demo-demons piercing the outer layers of your body—darted throughout your body. Steve invited himself in, entered without knocking. If there was a name for a rude intrusion, it would describe the pain in your backside perfectly. You thought that he might have done something, anything to prepare you for his home-runner.

There was nothing except some pooling pre-come that had barely formed enough to cover his tip; the friction at your entrance could have been enough to start a fire then and there. A clash of feelings followed by his roughness. Both were deadly combinations with gasoline surrounding your steps, something that you were only reminded of when he entered you and made your legs shake.

He found the gas to be an easy thing to work around, finding the right footing to swing his hips in the motion he claimed would fix it all. Inch by inch, he pushed himself in and hoped that you would move with every inch he pulled out and pushed himself back in. You felt your world shift. One moment, you were jolting forward as he slammed into you, the world of the Upside Down feeling like it was leaping toward you. The next, it felt like that world was slipping away.

Steve moaned, the sound of it channeling through the barrier between the both of you. “I could loo—oh—ook at you like this all day. Just a cumdump for me.”

There was a sensibility in his words—you could be stuck for a while until the Party got shovels, excavators, whatever they needed to get you out of this mess. Until then, you could be all his and have very little power to stop him.

You tried to ground yourself in his world, how Steve felt, specifically. Maybe the thought of being back in that world would make the one you were partly stuck in show pity, if it could understand such a thing in its laws of nature. Steve was hairy, and his pubes tickled your ass when he pressed himself deep into you. His hands were a bit clammy, cold and sweaty from gripping onto you and dealing with the chill inside the tunnels. Notably, he still wore his jacket and shirt, the zipper of the jacket grazing over you with every thrust.

The zipper seemed to disappear, though, like Steve had raised his arm. And sure enough, while you couldn’t see it, he had placed a hand on the soil-like substance that the wall of the tunnel was made out of for support. His other hand came down to strike your ass, sending a harsh smacking sound through the burrow.

When you started to move less and less, the view of the world around you growing still, you could almost tell that Steve was losing his patience. He was ready to come. His intention came true as Steve gave a few final, slow plunges into you and flooded your ass with stickier webbing than what you had pushed through to get into the second world. After the sensation of it all died down for the two of you, you realized that his so-called plan barely worked.

“I haven’t moved an inch!” If anything, he fucked you further into the other world. “Tell me you're done so you can go get some actual help.”

“Not yet, I love seeing you like this, and I’ll be nice…”

You felt your pants and everything slide up your body, being lazily adjusted back into place as they had been when Steve found you. You could feel yourself leaking with his come, getting your underwear wet with him. The faint sounds of his shuffling resounded behind you, and after a moment, he smacked your ass, “Don’t go anywhere! I’ll be back with help!”

#stranger things #x male reader #x reader #gay #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x male!reader #joe keery x y/n #joe keery x reader #joe keery #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader

675 notes · View notes

denim-devil · 9 months

Text

Steve doesn’t really understand, his eyes wide open, raking over the warm body next to him. It was almost obvious, the way his cock grew hard, began to ache with it’s needs and wants, his needs and wants.

His lips tickle the left side of your neck, teeth gently nibbling into the soft skin, making sure to stir you awake, just enough for permission.

“Steve-“

The mumble immediately circulated his rock hardness, pushing him to delve deeper into the crook of your neck, lips and tongue wetly smacking and lapping at the newly perpetuated bruise.

“Just let me in, you don’t have to move sweetheart, I can do all the work, just so hungry for you…”

The tips of his fingers rake down the dip of your back until they settled between the two pert globes that had Steve throbbing and foaming at the mouth, tongue moist with waves of newly formed saliva, god was he hungry.

They hover ever so gently against the puckered skin of your entrance, you wiggly tiredly, practically pushing back until the tips sank in with the added spit he globed downward onto your hole, the thick layer of hair which littered across his body raking against your own.

“Thank you sweetheart-“

Moving himself downward, he kneeled just besides where your thighs settled, his digits easily sinking in, squelching with each soft glide. Steve groans, nothing ever would stop him from pleasing you, god he couldn’t even keep his hands to himself, not with you around.

Each lewd plap bounced of the walls, his fingers jamming in, curling and proding at your prostate. You arch upwards into his touch, bouncing back hastily with urgency, almost breaking the curse of sleep that riddled your very body.

He teased and pushed, each nerve inside on fire and illuminating the cause of your stirring, he watched the beads of cum dribble from the tip of your soft cock, pushing him to fuck his fingers back and forth harshly.

Knuckles deep and you still had no clarification, Steve was indeed a menace, especially when it came down to your own pleasure, his mouth agape as he watched you bounce with need.

“That’s it, there we go”

He smoothly grumbled, almost testing the waters, just to see how far you would go to make his life a living hell but one worth living. Each graze, each thrust of the two digits, it had you scrambling at the sheets for forgiveness.

“Never thought- never thought in a million years that all I had to do…fuck- was slip two fingers into your little boy cunt to wake you up”

Steve was never going to let this go, not now, not with his cock weeping and dribbling with pre, hard and proud between his hairy thighs.

#male reader #x male reader #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #smut #fluff #stranger things #steve harrington x male reader

504 notes · View notes

simping-overload · 2 years

Text

𝚌𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚠𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜

𝚊/𝚗: 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗! 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢♡

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜: 𝚓𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚢𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚢𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚘𝚗, 𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚋𝚢 @vecnacurse [x]

𝚏𝚎𝚖/𝚏𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍,(𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛)(𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢) 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚎 & 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚖𝚢 𝙼𝙻𝙼, 𝙽𝙱𝙼𝙻𝙼, 𝚎𝚝𝚌 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒'𝚖 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞♡

𝚓𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 lives for a good cuddle, hes a total cuddle bug it doesn't matter if he's big or little spoon or whatever position yalls are in he is content with whatever. However his favorite cuddles is probably when he's high as a kite curled into you arms, he is in heaven

𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 is the definition of "hold me pls", for him being held makes him feel safe and secure in any position involving him in your arms, doesn't matter if it's you spooning him or him curled up again your chest with your arms wrapped around him. he just feels so happy & safe

𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚢 surprisingly enough loves being held, being the little spoon for him it's a great source of comfort, especially after any fights with his dad. he usually is laying on your chest or tummy as you watch a movie and run your fingers through his hair.

𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 likes when you facing each other, legs intertwine and wrapped up in each other's arms, he likes he can pretty much have access to your lips wherever he wants a kiss or two vice versa, has a weird habit of just staring at you, admiring you thinking about how grateful he is to have you

𝚎𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚎 loves cuddling doesn't matter the position or place he's down to cuddle pretty much anywhere. though he loves curling up in your arms, and if you run your hand(s) through his hair he's out like a light he's just so content and happy, if he happens to be high he will cling onto like an octopus and not let go at all

5K notes · View notes

gwiyeounsonyeon · 1 month

Text

Steve Harrington can sing.

You've never really noticed it before because he never sings, sure he hums along to the ratio but he never sings along. you've never really given it much thought, maybe he was shy, or maybe he was embarrassed? or perhaps he just didn't like to sing... there were so many possibilities you never really cared to think about, it wasn't a pressing issue, there was much worse going on in Hawkins than Steve not singing so it never crossed your mind.

until you spent the night at his place, it was your first time coming over, Steve always seemed so embarrassed of his home but you assured him that you weren't with him for the decor in his home and you sure as hell weren't going to leave him for something silly like that, he was still reluctant but you'd bribed him with the idea of sex in an empty house.

he probably thought you were sleeping and honestly, who the hell gets up before nine on a Sunday anyway? Steve does apparently, you awoke Sunday morning to an empty bed with your boyfriend nowhere to be found, you hobble out of his bed still a little sore from that night only to pause with your hand on his doorknob. it was soft barely heard over the hiss of the shower, it sounded like he was talking to himself at first and you found yourself grinning as you opened his bedroom door wanting to hear what he was talking about but as you got closer his voice got clearer, it wasn't some awe-inspiring skill, it was soft like he could only remember part of the lyrics and had to make up for most of it by mumbling the melody, his words mixing in with the unintelligible humming. your mischievous grin faded into a soft smile, he sounded so pretty...

A/N I've been listening to Djo on repeat, i was completely astonished when I found out that he sang End of Beginning, i love him sm <333.

#x male reader #stranger things #stranger things steve #joe keery #my skrunkly #sorry if this is bad #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader

112 notes · View notes

hopelessrromantix · 1 year

Text

content: somnophilia, dumbification, bulge/slight cum inflation, overstimulation

Steve blinked awake, his mind clouded from sleeping. He immediately tilted his head, looking toward your side of the bed only to see you not there. He tried sitting up only to be knocked back into the pillow a second later.

His mouth fell open as a surge of pleasure ran up his spine, yet again clouding his mind.

“You up, pretty boy?” You questioned, chuckling. “Lost you there for a minute.”

Oh right.

In his unconscious haze, he’d forgotten how he passed out in the first place. He tensed his muscles, moaning again when he felt your cock still in him.

He had no idea how long he’d been out, nor did he have any idea how much either of you had cum at this point. His stomach was sticky, covered in his own watery cum. He could feel your orgasm leaking out of him, though your cock kept most of it from leaking out.

And shit did he feel full.

He could feel a bulge in his stomach, no doubt from a combination of your cock and the amount of times you’d cum.

You barely waited for him to adjust, your hips snapping into his the second he looked coherent enough. He answered you in nothing but moans and whines, his hands tightly gripping the sheets below him.

“Feel so tight around me, Steve,” You smirked, both hands gripping his hips.

“Hnnn only for you,” He barely got the sentence out, taking one of your hands and holding it tightly.

“Gonna fuck you full Stevie,” You moaned, leaning down and speaking into his ear. His eyes rolled back, neck exposed to you. “Maybe I’ll make you wear a plug all day, hm?”

Steve only nodded at the idea, biting down hard on his lip.

“Or I could just leave you like this, watch me dripping down your legs the rest of the day.” You huffed, kneeling and lifting one of Steve’s legs over your shoulder, hitting his prostate far harder than before.

“FUCK, Y/n,” Steve practically yelled, squeezing your hand. “You’re gonna fuck a baby into me.” He barely got to finish his sentence, his mouth falling open again.

“Yeah? Think I can get you full enough to fuck a kid into you?” You asked, smirking at how fast Steve nodded. “Looks like I fucked you stupid.” He only nodded more.

“Gonnacumgonna,” A moan interrupted him, watery cum dripping down his cock.

“Fuck baby,” You groaned, feeling your own end approaching. “You’re gripping me so tight.” You came a second later, pounding another load into Steve’s ass.

You slowed down, finally pulling out. It forced a whine out of Steve when you did so. He watched, barely moving, as you spread his legs, getting a closer look at his hole. Your cum dripped from him, slowly spilling out. You reached on the bed next to you, grabbing the plug you’d set out. You took two fingers, pushing some of your cum back in before sliding the plug into Steve’s ass. It earned another moan from him, his hole still sensitive.

You leaned down, meeting his lips for a slow, much less lustful kiss. “Think you can keep that in for a whole movie?” You questioned. It was a day in, what better time to make Steve a horny mess in your house?

He nodded, “Fuck yes.”

#kinktober 2022 #since i have these saved #dom male reader #secret admirer #top male reader #male reader #x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x male reader #male reader smut #x male reader #seme male reader #male reader insert #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut

2K notes · View notes

off-phelia · 1 year

Text

200 followers!! Thank You Everyone ♡

Hi! I came here to thank you all for the 200 followers!!

I haven't written in many years and personally I don't think I'm very good at it xD. But apparently you guys are enjoying it, so thanks for the support 💕

As a thank you, I came to share some links that I found interesting on Twitter. Hope you like it 😏

Warning: NSFW content below. If you are a minor, please do not access 🤚⚠️🔞

THE MARAUDERS

James Potter 🦌

1. 2. 3. 4.

Sirius Black 🐾

1. 2. 3. 4.

Remus Lupin 🐺

1. 2. 3. 4.

Peter Pettigrew 🐀

1. 2. 3. 4.

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

Stanger Things

Eddie Munson 🎸

1. 2. 3. 4.

Steve Harrington 👑

1. 2. 3. 4.

Nancy Wheeler 📰

1. 2. 3. 4.

Robin Buckley 💸

1. 2. 3. 4. (+Nancy)

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter 🫁

1. 2. 3.

Will Graham 🐕

1. 2. 3.

🤚If you don't like NSFW don't access these links and please don't report the content🤚

#the marauders x reader #stranger things x reader #hannibal series x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #peter pettigrew x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #nancy wheeler x female reader #nancy wheeler x male reader #robin buckley x female reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #the marauders smut #stranger things smut #hannibal smut #thanks for the 200 followers!!#p links

1K notes · View notes

l1tw1ck · 1 year

Text

Staring

sub!bottom!ftm Steve x dom!top!masc reader

☆ Word Count: 1,610 ☆

↳ [REQUEST] | AFAB Language Used

i think this is my 100th request 😭

CW: Locker Room Sex, Teasing, Oral, Praise Kink, Fingering, Daddy Kink, Squirting, Cum Swallowing, accidentally dialogue heavy

Once again, your teammate is checking you out. He’s been looking at you weirdly for weeks now and you're convinced he has a crush on you. It started with random glances and turned into full on stares.

He always thought you were attractive and he found himself looking at you in every class you share and at every practice. And each time he felt more and more drawn to you. It started off innocent, all he wanted was to hold hands and kiss. But then he started thinking about you in ways that aren't so family friendly. You’re confident and dominant on the court, he wonders if you're the same in bed. He feels bad but he's been masturbating to you. He does things he’d never thought he’d do. He feels perverted doing it but he often buys popsicles and practices sucking you off. He even managed to buy a dildo but he was too scared to use it so he just rubs his cunt against the plastic shaft. He settled with fantasies but he realized that wasn't enough.

“Staring again? Am I that good looking?” You chuckle. Steve’s eyes widen, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He stutters for a bit before you stop him. “I’m just kidding, Steve.” You smile sweetly.

“Ri- right-” He quickly turns around and rushes to the bathroom to wash his face and cool down.

It happens again the next day, this time he was being very obvious with his arousal. He was on the bench for ‘health reasons’ (he just wanted to watch you) and you noticed him squeezing his legs together and giving you bedroom eyes.

“Am I the only one who gets the ‘Steve Harrington Death Stare’?” You chuckled. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Steve’s entire face burned red. “Um-”

“You don't have to explain right now. I think I understand.” You winked at him. “But I’d like to hear it from you eventually.”

Hope filled his heart. If he confesses, will you say yes?

He takes a while to build up the courage to confess but he finally does. And now here’s Steve, standing in front of you in the empty locker room while fiddling with his thumbs. You wait patiently for him to speak rather than rushing him, he appreciates it.

“Whenever you…you tease me, I feel so...so..”

“Horny?” You smirk, remembering how turned on he looked sitting on the bench.

His ears tinge red. He wasn't going to say that, but you're far from wrong. “Yeah...and I just wanna…I want you to tease me and- and praise me, and make me do whatever you want me to...” He trails off, eyes widening as he realizes what he’s saying. “I get it if you- if you’re uncomfortable! You can just pretend this never happened!”

“Whatever I want, huh?” You smirk. “Kneel.”

His eyes are blown wide as he falls to his knees. He looks to you for approval before pulling down your shorts and boxers, your half hard cock slapping him in the face. He takes it in his hand and drags his tongue along your shaft, mimicking the girls in the porno DVDs he borrowed at Family Video. He watches as you grow to full size, the sight causes a throbbing sensation in his pants. He imagined you being big but this is a whole different story.

“Put it in your mouth, sweetheart.” You urge. Steve does as you ask, opening his mouth and taking the tip of your cock in his mouth. He looks up at you as he tries to swallow you whole, stopping halfway. He knows his limits. He sucks you off for at least a minute, trying his very best to please you, before pulling away and looking at you with a sweet expression.

“Am I doing okay..?” He asks softly. It's his first time doing anything with another guy, he wants to make sure he’s doing it right. Plus, he wants to hear you praise him.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby..” You wrap your fingers in his hair, guiding him back onto your length. Steve closes his eyes and starts to ‘properly’ suck you off. “Look at me.”

His eyes flutter open, his gaze focusing on you. He moves his mouth up and down your shaft while keeping eye contact the whole time.

“What a sight..” You sigh. “You look so pretty like this, Steve. Wish I had a camera.”

Steve moans and picks up the pace, encouraged to do more. He brings his hand inside his shorts and presses two fingers against his clit. He rubs it in circles and moans, bobbing his head up and down vigorously.

“Look at you, getting turned on from sucking my cock..” You murmur, gently pulling him off of you. “How about I take care of that?”

Steve shakes his head lightly. “I like…I like making you feel good..”

You never thought of Steve as the type to prefer pleasing rather than being pleased but now that you've been made aware of it, it makes sense. You've heard rumors that his parents are never home, the reason why he has so many parties, it's clear that he needs someone to give him the praise he never received.

“You know how you can make me feel even better? Get over there and bend over.” You point to the wall of lockers.

Steve quickly does as you asked, jutting his ass out and looking back at you. You walk up behind him and pull his shorts off. His boxers are white, which allows you to see how wet he is. He’s soaked just from sucking you off. You pull them off, revealing his pretty pussy. You slowly slide one finger inside him and then another.

“How often do you touch yourself, Steve?” You ask, your chest resting on his back.

He turns more red than he already is. “Everyday..” He whispers.

“Really? What do you think about?” You start fingering him.

“You, [Name].” He admits.

“Of course.” You chuckle. “Do you use toys? Or just your fingers?”

“I…I..” He’s too embarrassed to tell you the truth.

“Come on, tell me.” You angle your fingers to his pleasure spot, making him whine.

“I finger myself but sometimes- fuck-” His face is a bright red. “I use a dildo..”

“So you've already taken something inside you?”

He shakes his head. “I rub…”

“You rub your pussy against the toy?” You ask and he nods. “Fuck…I need to see that.”

Steve moans. “You can watch–”

“Yeah? God, I bet you’d look so fucking hot doing it..” You pull your fingers out. “I’m gonna put it in.”

He gulps and prepares himself for your entrance. As you ease yourself inside him, he shuts his eyes and leans his head back. You're filling him up so well. “Mm- Daddy~” He moans out mindlessly.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

“Yes- fuck- you're so big-” He grins, loving how you stretch him out.

“You feel good too–” You groan in his ear, causing him to shiver. “Can I move?”

He nods.

You grip his hips and start fucking into him at a gentle pace. You don't want to hurt him.

“Mm- go faster, if you want~” He already feels like he's on cloud 9 but he has a feeling that you're holding back. “Wanna make you feel good, Daddy~”

“Don’t say that, I won’t be able to hold back.”

“‘M yours, Daddy, use me.”

You dig your nails into his skin and thrust into him roughly, practically rearranging his insides. Steve lets out loud, slutty moans without an ounce of shame. It feels too good for him to care about his surroundings. “Do you want everyone in the school to hear you? You want someone to come in and find you like this?”

He giggles, the thought of someone finding him getting pounded by you only makes him more excited. “Yes~!”

“Yes?” You laugh. “I didn’t know you were a whore, Harrington.”

“I’m your whore~!” He exclaims.

You somehow fuck him even harder and rougher than before, riled up by his words. You ram into his cunt relentlessly, enamored by the plushness of his wet pussy and the sluttiness of his words. Steve bites his lip as tears start to stream down his cheeks. He feels so fucking good, it's like electricity's running through him.

“Daddy–” He whines. “‘M gonna come-”

“Before me? How selfish.” You tease him.

Steve blabbers out an apology, crying harder.

“I'm kidding, sweetheart.” You bring your hand down to his clit, rubbing it in circles. Steve’s legs shake as you pull him into an orgasm, eyes rolling back as he squirts all over the floor and lockers. You help him through his orgasm before pulling out. You help him onto his knees and stroke yourself over his face. He sticks out his tongue and waits for you to come. It doesn't take long before you’re spurting thick ropes of cum all over his face and tongue.

“You did so well for me, Steve..” You murmur, helping him stand up. “Such a good boy for me.” You bring him to the showers.

bonus:

Steve rubs his sopping wet pussy along his pink dildo, pulling on his nipples and whimpering like a puppy while you watch him. His eyes are trained on your lower half as he watches you get off to him. Everything feels good, his pussy, his nipples, your gaze…but now that he's gotten a taste of it, he just wants your cock now. He wants to be good for you though, so he'll keep going as long as you want.

#wicks🕯works #wicks🕯requests #top male reader #male reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x male reader #stranger things smut #bottom steve harrington #sub steve harrington #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #🕯️stranger things #🕯️steve

824 notes · View notes

bingbongsupremacy · 4 months

Text

Camp Hawkins AU Pt. 2

pairing: Steve Harrington x plus sized reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N.

The story doesn't mention a lot about being plus sized but it is there.

Summary Overall: It's your third year being a camp counselor at Camp Hawkins and your 7th year knowing Steve. Every year your crush seems to grow stronger and stronger.

Pt. 2 Summary: You've been avoiding Steve ever since you caught him and and Nancy making out at the Lake. Unfortunately, you can't avoid him forever. While helping him clean up after a messy s'more night, he approaches you.

*Not Proof Read*

ABC List Part 1 Stranger Things Masterlist

*****

It's been two weeks.

I've done my best to avoid Steve and Nancy as much as possible, which is proving to be a very hard thing to do.

Morning meetings are the worst. Every morning at 5 am, the counselors are expected to meet at the dining hall for a brief run down of the day. Usually everyone is still in their PJ's, hoping the meeting will be short enough for everyone to catch a few more minutes of sleep before the kids get up.

The mornings are usually pretty cold. Almost everyone shows up in some sort of jacket or sweat shirt. Not Steve. Every morning he comes dressed in a nice fitting T, perfectly showing off his arms.

Stop staring at Steve.

Stupid crush. Stupid fucking crush.

I force myself to look away from Steve. Instead of his usual spot by Nancy, he's decided to take a seat next to Robin and Vickie, one of the other camp cooks.

" If I didn't know any better, I'd say you have a crush on Harrington. " Eddie's voice is teasing but quiet.

I snap my head towards him. " Do not. " I state sternly, fear running through my veins. He can't find out.

Eddie chuckles. " You sure do stare a lot for someone without a crush. " Eddie's elbows rest comfortably against the table. His legs are sprawled out, not bothering how much room they take up. His hair is tossed up into a sleepy bun, a rare sight for the man who always has his hair down. " Don't worry, I won't tell. " He raises a finger to his lips, indicating my secret is safe with him. He winks, sending a flurry of embarrassment running through me.

I've never liked Eddie like that, but he sure does know how to fluster someone.

" I don't like him. " I insist. " So you don't have anything to keep secret. "

Eddie nods mockingly. " That's not what Henderson told me...but if you insist..." He holds his hands up in surrender.

I let out a small groan. Of course Dustin blabbed to Eddie. Dustin tells Eddie everything. Nothing even happened, I don't understand why Dustin spinned it to sound like we made out.

" Is everything alright over there? " Hopper asks, looking over at me and Eddie. " Are you feeling alright? "

" Yeah, perfectly fine. Just a little headache. " I lie.

" Well, if you're alright, we'll get back to today's agenda..."

My eyes scan across the table. Across the way, Steve's eyes meet mine. On his face is a small look of...confusion?

This is going to be a tough morning.

-------

The loud chatter of happy campers slowly fades away as the large oak dining hall doors close. Soon, Steve and I are left alone in the echoing room.

I begin picking up various chocolate wrappers on the floor the tables. They'd somehow managed to completely trash the dining hall in a single hour.

" So..." Steve begins, cutting through the silence. " are you and Eddie...a thing? " He asks calmly, glancing over at me from the table he's wiping down.

I let out a small laugh. " Me and Eddie? No. No way. He's...not my type. " The constant smell of weed is headache inducing. Frankly, it's confusing how Hopper hasn't fired him for drugs. He doesn't sell to kids but that definitely doesn't mean he doesn't sell to other of age counselors.

Plus he's not really into relationships. He's more of a hit it and quit it type.

" What is your type? " Steve asks. I feel his gaze on me as I start scrubbing one of the tables with a wet rag.

" Not Eddie, that's for sure. " I scrub a little harder at a hardened drop of melted marshmallow. " I like guys who...I don't know, like the same things as me. Why do you ask? " I don't understand why he gives a shit about my love life.

Steve shrugs, his gaze finally moving away. " I saw you and him this morning and I thought maybe you were dating or something. It's stupid, it doesn't matter. "

" Still single. " I mumble.

A thick silence settles in the room. Once again, Steve is the one to break it.

" Are you mad at me? " His voice is soft, like he's worried or something.

I look over at the brunette. " No. " I reply honestly. " Why would you think that? "

We both pause where we are, instead occupying ourselves by looking at each other. We're both trying to read each other.

Steve shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. " You just seem...distant. I don't know, ever since you caught Nance and I at the lake we don't talk anymore. Did I do something? "

I shake my head. " You...you didn't do anything. "

" Then why are you avoiding me? "

If I tell him he'll probably get weirded out. I mean, how awkward is it to be around someone who has a massive crush on you when you don't reciprocate the feeling?

But it might help me get over him if he stops actively trying to talk to me.

I'm going to do it. I need to. Fuck, but what about Nancy?

Fuck Nancy. I need to get over this man. This handsome, kind man.

" I have a crush on you, okay? " I blurt out. " It's stupid, I know. You're with Nancy, I understand that. "

His eyes widen in surprise. " What? "

" I don't want to make things awkward. I'm trying to get over you, that's why I'm avoiding you. Fuck, can you please just stop asking questions now? You got your answer. "

I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks. I did it. I told him.

" I like you to. " Steve pushes himself away from the table he's leaned against. He walks towards me.

My eyes go wide. " What? "

He's joking. Right? He has to be joking.

No this has to be a dream, some weird fucking dream. In no universe would Steve Fucking Harrington like me back.

" I like you too. " Steve finally makes it to me. He stands a close, leaving only a few inches of space between us. His eyes stare into mine, a small smile resting on his lips. " I have liked you for the past couple of years. "

I shake my head, stepping back to put some distance between us. " You're with Nancy. You can't like me. That's fucked up. I don't want to be a homewrecker-I can't be. You-you and Nancy are good together. "

Steve shakes his head. " We're not together, Y/N. I broke up with her. For good this time. " He sighs, running a hand through his hair. " Just because we're good together doesn't mean we're meant to be together. "

I'm the reason they broke up. Robin was right. I'm the fucking worst. Who ruins a relationship? I mean, I didn't know I was ruining it, but Steve's crush on me ruined everything for them. Nancy probably hates me.

" Nancy has known about my crush for a while. " Steve admits nervously. " That's why we've broken up so much. I-no matter what I do I can't get you out of my fucking head. " He lets out a frustrated sigh. " Your smile, your eyes, fuck it's all I see at night. I sound insane, I know, but I don't know what to do. I can't just be in a relationship with someone else when all I think about is you. "

I continue to create space between us. " So I'm the reason you guys broke up? " Guilt begins to build up in my stomach.

" No! " Steve shakes his head. " You-you didn't do anything. There were plenty of other problems involved with our break up. This wasn't your fault. Honestly, this has been building up for years. Even if I didn't have a crush on you, Nancy and I probably would've split for good anyways. "

I still feel horrible. Like I contributed to their break up.

" Please, Y/N. You have to believe me. This wasn't your fault. "

I search Steve's eyes for any sign of lying. His expression is desperate, like he's scared I'm going to leave.

I stop.

Relief floods Steve's face.

" You really like me? " I ask quietly, scared he's going to laugh and make fun of me for believing him. He did have a mean streak in high school. I thought he grew out of it though.

" I swear on my life, I like you. " Steve's expression is sincere. " I like you so much sometimes I feel like my heart is going to explode. "

I smile at the man. I never would have imagined this would happen. " I like you too. "

Steve begins to walk towards me again. This time, I don't run away. Once he's a few inches from me, he gently takes my hand. " Will you go on date with me, Y/N. "

" I would love to, Steve. "

125 notes · View notes

kanataka-san · 2 years

Text

Dustin: If the police saw how you're driving, they would take away your licence

(Y/N): How can they take something I don't have?

Steve:*remembering they are driving HIS car*

#male reader #dustin henderson x reader #steve harrington x male reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x reader #dustin stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #stranger things x male reader #steve harrington

1K notes · View notes

batfleshh · 6 months

Text

“We Can’t Stop Here, This Is Bat Country.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley ☆

☆ GhostSoap.

☆ Affection.

☆ New Recruit.

☆ Tamed.

☆ Blood.

☆ Out of love.

☆ Patience.

☆ Ghostsoap ||.

☆ Bigger.

☆ Late night visit.

John “Soap” MacTavish ☆

☆ GhostSoap.

☆ Blowjob.

☆ Head down.

☆ Focus.

☆ Dog.

☆ Dog ||.

☆ Ghostsoap ||.

John “Bravo Six” Price ☆

☆ Roles.

☆ Pretty face.

☆ Secret.

☆ Back in place.

☆ Sharing is caring.

☆ Quick.

☆ Taking the time.

☆ Western style.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick ☆

☆ Desperation.

☆ Sharing is caring.

König ☆

☆ Shy.

☆ Tears.

Eddie Munson ✮

✮ Filled.

Steve Harrington ✮

✮ None.

Billy Hargrove ✮

✮ None.

Arthur Morgan ✰

✰ Happy Hour.

Kieran Duffy ✰

✰ None.

John Marston ✰

✰ None.

Charles Smith ✰

✰ None.

Javier Escuella ✰

✰ None.

Jesse Pinkman ★

★ Deal.

Miguel O’Hara ✩

✩ None.

Peter B. Parker ✩

✩ None.

Rick Grimes ✪

✪ None.

Daryl Dixon ✪

✪ None.

124 notes · View notes

famwhy · 9 months

Text

Right Way Up (03)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: I know Steve's initials are on this chapter but that doesn't mean this chapter is focused on him, just a head's up.

prev part. masterlist. next part.

03. bring unto me altruism

trait: s.h.

"YOU know him?"

Your gaze wandered over the top of the BMW, breaking away from the (very sturdy-looking) back of Billy Hargrove to instead lock eyes with Steve Harrington—the latter of which had his own optics thoroughly narrowed in your direction.

"Huh?"

"The new guy—" he scoffed out, and you watched as his lips tugged down, brows furrowed very harshly, "—do you know him?"

Ah, shit. You have got to stop slipping up, Y/N.

"No." The response came out quick—and you turning around to face Billy again came quicker. He was still walking off—skinny jeans making it almost impossible to ignore his figure, very clearly outlining his... ahem just as they had in the show. "I certainly wouldn't mind getting to know him, though."

"Ew, gross."

"Oh please, like you can talk."

"I can talk, actually, and—hey! Where are you going?"

Midway through his sentence, you had started off towards the school, strutting after the dirty blonde with just as much feigned confidence in your walk as he.

It was rude to walk off halfway through a conversation but that was probably the least of your worries right now. You had a plan and if you wanted to execute it, you couldn't let Billy out of your sight.

"Y/N?"

"Just heading to class, don't worry. Walk Nancy to her first period then head to yours, 'kay? I'll be fine."

What exactly were you doing? Simple—remember the other day when you had no clue where you were going and had to rely on Steve to get you to your classes? Well, today, you could follow Billy Hargrove and, with any luck, you'd end up finding the counselor without having to ask for help and sounding suspicious.

Although, the last of anyone's guesses as to why you were acting peculiar would be that you came from a whole other world; one wherein they were all characters on a screen with almost three-quarters of them being completely irrelevant to the plot and, therefore, not even paid the littlest of attention to by the audience.

Still, better to be safe than sorry.

You had many more worries running rampant in your mind, all loud and overwhelming, grand and all-consuming—almost to the point where you had bumped into the defined back of the 80s bad boy; a defined back which, all of a sudden, wasn't moving like it was just moments ago.

Why did he stop?

The answer to that question was written clearly on the solid plate stuck to the blank, beaten door before you: COUNSELOR.

Your ears perked up as a jingle sounded from the metal knob, a strong, slightly-tanned hand wrapped firmly around it.

The door refused to budge.

"Ah shit," came the steady curse of the broad male. His body had shifted after that, and even an idiot could tell that he was about to turn around, so you did what any sane person would do—you flung yourself to the side and crashed your butt against one of the chairs snugly tucked against the wall.

Ouch... you'd think the chairs next to the guidance counselor's office would be a little more comfy to land on.

If Billy had found your actions at all weird, he showed no signs of it—choosing, instead, to plop himself down on the seat next to you; pink lips pulled into a straight line and ocean-blue gaze as cool as steel. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then Billy's glass panes were sure-as-hell foggy beyond belief because you hadn't grasped a single glance at his soul.

But... you still knew what it looked like, the shattered crystals left behind in the wake of his past, ready to prick whoever dared come near with their razor-sharp edges—and that thought had your heart squeezing painfully, both in sympathy and guilt; sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances and... guilt for knowing so much about this boy who hadn't a single clue that you existed before... well, any of this.

"'S there a reason for your staring, princess?"

You blinked, all of a sudden being the recipient of a grin that didn't quite seem to reach the eyes of the sender.

"Huh?"—damn, caught lost in thought again—"Oh! Uh, you're my new neighbour, right?"

He arched a brow.

"Cherry Lane?" You added. "My brother told me someone moved in and you don't look like anyone I know."

His mouth stayed sewn shut and you chose to keep going.

"I think I saw you get out of your car earlier too, there was a California tag on it, is that where you used to live?"

Again. No words. Though, this time, his lips pulled taut and any sign of that previous expression had vanished.

"I always thought the Golden Coast was pretty." You weren't an idiot, you saw the change in his expression—the shift in his gaze—but you didn't let it stop you, continuing to speak with a small, gentle smile, "I'm thinking of going one day."

His eyes had softened a little at that, and he parted his lips—looking as though he was about to speak—when, all of a sudden, a sound reverberated through the near-empty hall, and he closed them once more, raising a brow before sending a pointed look your way.

You felt it coming, the rumble deep down in the pits of your stomach, but you were helpless in stopping it—in containing it—and it arrived before you could even blink—

—a low growl.

Your fist rose up, a light cough leaving your mouth as your gaze awkwardly drifted to the side. "I, uh, didn't eat this morning."

Silence.

Then—to your utter surprise—soft, mirthful chuckles flooded your ears, causing you to whip your head around so fast, you almost sprained your poor neck. Beside you was a sight for sore eyes; one that resulted in your jaw dropping all the way to the floor and your eyes practically bulging out with how much they'd widened.

Billy Hargrove—the Billy Hargrove—was laughing.

His soft, golden curls bounced with each bout of snickers that left his mouth—beautiful, azure eyes crinkled and barely visible past his squinted lids—and yet—they still looked just as striking as usual, as mesmerising and jaw-dropping as on TV—if not, more so.

And then, it really sank in.

You made Billy Hargrove laugh.

And it wasn't some fake, obligatory giggle—nor was it that little, psychotic laugh he did when hysteria clouded his usually-cold gaze—no, it was full-blown, genuine laughter. And you caused it.

That thought had your chest swelling with a lot more pride than it probably should've—

"What's up with the tattoo?"

The question left his mouth much more comfortably than his previous words, flowing out with a small, slightly-smug quirk of his lips, and it took you a moment to register the fact that he had stopped chuckling, his gaze having drifted down—specifically, towards your wrist.

You trailed his gaze, finding yourself being met with the three, thick lines that had been there since the day you arrived in this world and—unsure of why they were there yourself—you shrugged. "Dunno, I think I got it while blackout drunk once."

Something about your response must've been funny because he officially chuckled for the second time since meeting you. "I didn't know you country folk knew how to party that hard."

Now, you might've not been from Hawkins yourself but... something about the way he said that had your eyes narrowing slightly in his direction, and you sprung up from your seat, the underside of your thighs suddenly being greeted by cold air.

"Watch it. We can party just as hard as you Calis."

Your pupils grew shaky as you stood there, watching the next set of his actions with a tingling feeling deep down in your stomach.

One hand on his denim-clad knee, defined biceps flexing as he slowly rose up—your eyes rising with him. And as he took a step closer to you—lips twitching further up with a glint in his eyes you couldn't quite discern—you found yourself starting to slowly lose your breath, hands growing just the slightest bit clammy with the sudden blaze of active nerves you were struck with.

"Yeah?"

You gulped. "Yeah."

You felt hyper-aware as a rough, sun-kissed hand slid around your waist—fitting perfectly against the curve of your back, slowly dragging you closer, and sending a flurry of pleasant tingles straight up your spine to meet with the group that started to steadily arise in your chest; a chest that was mere millimetres from the thin, cotton material that covered his own.

Then, he leaned towards your ear, lips grazing the lobe as he whispered—a sultry lull bleeding into his tone—"Why don't you show me just how hard you can party, huh?"

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat but—before you could fret over what he'd say next, how he'd respond to your silly, little fumble—a 'click!' sounded from your side, and you threw yourself straight out of his sturdy arms quicker than a bolt of lightning—just in time, too, for the face of an older woman emerged from within the office not even moments later.

"Ah," the lady nodded, "you must be William."

Your eyes flitted over to him just in time to catch the way his jaw ticked.

"It's Billy, actually." And when he responded, his voice came out cold, different to the playful lilt it held just moments before.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the name struck a nerve.

"Ah, my bad. Would you like to come in and grab your schedule, Billy?"

He didn't respond but did as she asked, brushing past you to walk into the smaller room, only sharing a brief few seconds of eye-contact as he walked past—but those brief few seconds were enough to grant you just a tiny glimpse into the thunderous storm hidden within the pools of his irises—

—and as the door shut behind him, your lips tugged down.

You couldn't help but let your mind wander to the way his muscles seemed to tense up at the mention of California, freeze in what you could safely assume was caused by his longing to return to the freedom of his home state.

To be forced to depart from your home was nothing new, but you truly felt for Billy and his circumstances. His dad was more than hard on him—he was downright abusive, and Billy was forced to endure it without a single soul in his corner to help him through it, to guide him down the right path and teach him how to break out of the cycle of abuse he was forced into upon being born.

He was only eighteen. A goddamn child. He shouldn't have had to go through what he did.

He should've had the chance to redeem himself.

But that chance was squandered in Season 3, ripped from him akin to how his life was—a grotesque limb of mixed flesh having pierced through his chest, several other messed-up tentacles latched painfully onto his sides, bleeding him dry, draining the life from his eyes.

He didn't deserve to die.

Officially bummed-out by your own trail of thoughts, you heaved out a sigh before your ears perked up at a familiar 'click!' and your head snapped to the door again.

Out came Billy, the smug twitch of his lips back on his face—it was so comfortably situated there, in fact, that if any other person had seen it, they'd have assumed it was there the whole time.

But, despite him looking perfectly fine as he walked out of the old office, you still felt the urge to fly into his arms and wrap him in an embrace filled to the brim with promises; promises to at least provide him some level of support for what he was going through and what he would go through. Though, unlike with Eddie, you couldn't act upon it.

See, Billy and Eddie were two completely different people—where Eddie had brushed off your sudden hug quite easily—happily welcomed it, even—Billy would definitely question it, especially considering the fact that he didn't even know who you were.

And so, although it took all of your willpower, you refrained from throwing yourself onto him—choosing, instead, to stand still as he sauntered over, fingers rising up to brush against your shoulder gently; teasingly.

"See ya 'round, princess."

Instantly, a flurry of tiny, winged creatures erupted in your stomach, sending tingles through your body—up your spine to seize you at your throat, clawing into your windpipe and rendering you motionless in astonishment and awe and—

Was it just you or was it getting hot in here?

"Y/N?" You blinked, attention turning to the dark-haired female suddenly stood before you. "What are you doing here?"

Forcing yourself to forget that... whatever that was, you let a small, sheepish smile curve onto your lips. "Actually, miss, do you mind if I ask for a reprint of my schedule?"

"A reprint?" She rose a brow, arms slowly folding over her chest. "I thought you already had it memorised."

"Oh, uh,"—cue a small, nervous giggle—"you see, it kinda like... slipped my mind, y'know? And I already lost my old one so... can I have that reprint?"

She stood there for a little while longer—letting you really bask in the glory of her heavy judgement—before finally heaving out a sigh through her nose, sounding like she just aged up another ten years as she spun on her heel, full, brown curls bouncing after her.

The ground was smooth, friction practically non-existant as you rocked on your heels, awaiting the piece of paper with bated breath. The ticks of the clock suddenly didn't seem so much like white noise anymore as impatience furrowed your brows and your teeth jutted out, sinking a little into your bottom lip in anticipation.

Then, with a loud, echoing, "Y/N!"—someone had called out to you, but their voice was too high-pitched to be the one you were looking to hear—not to mention the fact that it came from the hall to your right as opposed to the office in front of you.

Your head whipped around just in time to have your whole body jerk a little as a girl skidded to an abrupt stop right next to you, her brown, soft-looking hair bouncing with an almost unnecessary amount of volume.

In her hands were several pieces of bright orange paper, all inked with a few words you couldn't quite make out—not without squinting at least.

"Hey!"

"Uh, hey..."

Who the hell was this again?

"How have you been? You haven't been to practice for a while now, the girls are pretty worried." As she spoke, she tucked a stray strand behind her ear and you squinted—trying to figure out where you'd seen her in the show.

"Oh, uh, I've just been a little sick, that's all."—seriously, who was this girl?—"I'm fine now though."

"That's great to hear!" She beamed, though her smile didn't quite seem to reach her eyes. "Listen, I'm having this party on Halloween and... I wanted you to be the first invite."

She extended one hand—flyer fit snugly between her fingertips—and you reached out, wrapping your fingers around the other end before she released it.

Eyes falling down, you took in the words written in... well, you didn't even know what font that was: TINA'S HALLOWEEN BASH. Come and get Sheet Faced.

Oh, so this was Tina.

"You'll be there, right?"

Your eyes flew back up and you were met with her intense gaze, swirling with a desperate, expectant plea you were almost saddened to see.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'll be there."

If anyone saw the way her shoulders fell and the muscles on her face relaxed at your words, they would've assumed you took some sort of heavy anvil off her shoulders, freeing her of some sort of imaginary weight that was supposedly weighing her down.

"Thank you," she breathed out, voice practically inaudible over the air leaving her lungs.

Damn, were you that influential?—so much so that your presence would make or break a party?

"No problem?"

If you were being completely honest, you had no idea what to think of Tina—her character wasn't very explored in the show considering the fact that her role was very minor, the only thing she was really used for was the Halloween bash. But just from these few minutes with her alone, you could tell she was someone who heavily valued reputation.

"Okay, well, I should go," her voice pierced through your thoughts. "I'm thinking of inviting the new kid."

You parted your lips—about to say goodbye—when she twirled around and took off running, not even bothering to spare another glance your way.

Rude.

But as your gaze drifted down to the piece of paper in your hands once more, you found yourself uncaring of her rather unorthodox departure—too busy thinking about... something else.

"Y/N, here's your schedule."

Ah, nevermind the bash, you had your schedule now. You could finally know where you were meant to be for each period—albeit, it would take you a while to actually find the places but at least you knew what subjects you were meant to be in during the week. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Speaking of class, you were long overdue for your first period—

—and your teacher seemed to agree on that too, judging by the harsh glare situated on his face as soon as your sheepish form walked through the door. But hey, could he blame you? No, you were just trying to find your way around this stupid maze of a school.

Luckily, getting to your second class was much easier seeing as you passed it on your way to the first—but that didn't make it any less difficult to have to sit through. You were in Stranger Things—for fuck's sake!—what the hell did Newton's Third Law have to do with it?

You weren't ashamed to admit that you didn't pay attention to any of the other classes leading up to lunch—nor were you opposed to confessing the huge sigh of relief you let out once the long break period finally arrived, because—c'mon—who the hell paid attention to class when they just got transported to another world?

Not you.

So yes, you were currently happily strolling through the halls with your arms crossed over your books as you hugged said items to your chest, no sign of Steve in sight—but, you did catch a glimpse of a very familiar Lion's mane by a set of grey lockers in the corner of your eye.

"Eddie!"

Your voice must've come suddenly because he jumped as soon as you called out to him, head turning your way and one hand situating itself above his heart after he saw you. "Oh, Y/N!"

Your lips twitched up at just the sight of him. "What happened to 'sweetheart'?"

"Oh, uh, you want me to call you that? In front of all these people?"

And just like that, your lips tugged down. "Of course, why would that be a problem? Unless you're uncomfortable with it yourself—in which case, you don't have to call me by it."

Immediately, his head shook from side-to-side, messy hair bouncing crazily along with it. "No, no, not at all... sweetheart."

You'd be lying if you said that the nickname didn't garner a reaction from you; didn't result in your chest swirling with a blazing warmth.

Though, it also seemed to result in the jaw of the person stood next to him dropping to the floor; the same person you had just noticed was there in the first place. He had hair that was just as curly as Eddie's, but—unlike the male you knew—his was cut shorter, barely reaching past his ears really.

You knew this guy, he was one of Eddie's friends.

What was his name again? It started with a G. Let's see... Gavin..? No... Gary..? No...

Oh!

"Gareth right?" Relief washed through your insides when his head nodded, eyes wide and seeming to look through you, almost as if he couldn't even believe you were there, "It's so nice to meet another friend of Eddie's!"

"Another?" He seemed to have shot out of his trance at that, and it wasn't long before he gave you an incredulous look, gaze flickering over from you to Eddie, to you to Eddie, over and over again.

Then, all too suddenly, he pulled on the other male's arm and yanked him to the side—not even 3 feet of you—before resuming, "You're friends with the Queen Bee? How the hell did that happen?"

"You think I know?!"

Eddie's response was enough to garner a chuckle from you, causing both boys to quickly return their gazes to your form. Before they could comment on their fuck-up however, another voice came bellowing down the hall, calling out to you.

"Y/N!"

Unlike with Gareth before, you recognised that pretty face paired with those luscious ginger strands of hair straight away. How could you not? You had practically seen a thousand edits of them along with the 'Chrissy Wake Up' song on TikTok. Kinda hard to forget her after the Internet did its magic.

Though, it wasn't exactly unpleasant to be meeting her, and so, you gave her as bright a smile as you could muster. "Chrissy! Hey!"

"Hi!" She beamed right back at you, but unlike Tina, Chrissy's smile genuinely reached her glinting eyes, even going as far as adorably crinkling them up a little. "Tina said you were feeling fine now, do you mind coming to practice today? Only if you're okay! I know you've been sick so take as much rest as you need and don't feel pressured."

How the hell could you say no to that?

"Yeah, okay, sure! I'll come with you to practice."

You weren't sure how it was possible, but she seemed to light up even further at that, almost blinding you like the little ball of sunshine she was.

In fact, she was so distracting, you almost forgot the presence of the two boys dressed in a completely different colour pallet to you. Keyword: almost.

"Looks like that's my cue." You turned their way—if only to save your eyesight from genuinely deteriorating due to the light that was Chrissy. "It was nice meeting you, Gareth. Good to see you again, Eddie."

Just before departing, you ghosted your fingers over the covered shoulder of Eddie, wiggling them about like you had done to Steve just the day prior; a signature goodbye, if you will.

And as you walked down the halls, you picked up on one last thing coming from Gareth's mouth... one last thing that was enough to drill your feet straight into the ground.

"Eddie? Eddie, wake up!"

That phrase...

Flashes of Season 4 infiltrated your gaze; of the unfortunate victims that had their lives stripped from them; of the very girl stood next to you's body flying up, limbs distorting as they snapped irregularly, eyes not even having the pleasure of losing light with how unjustly they were gauged out from her.

Had you messed up somehow?

Had the events of Season 4 ended up being triggered too early by your mere existence?

The questions overwhelmed you—flooded through your senses and clogged up your airways with their untimely arrival. You were a puppet and they were the strings, ushering you to turn around; to rid yourself of the wool pulled over your eyes—of the blissful ignorance surrounding your form—and, helpless to their influence, you did exactly that.

Slowly, your head reared backwards—the room spinning around you—and your eyes were greeted by a welcome sight; one that breathed life back into your limbs.

Eddie stood there—eyes still very much on his face—with a familiar, light blush spread across his cheeks. Even as his form was being rapidly shook by his dear friend, he remained still, gaze trained on you. He only seemed to have snapped out of it after making proper eye-contact with you.

Two blinks. A small, shy raised hand. And a tiny wave.

False alarm. He was just flustered.

It made sense, your previous actions could be interpreted as flirting after all—and to be honest, you didn't really mind if it was (again, the Eddie Munson)—but, you'd be lying if you said he didn't just give you a bit of a scare there.

The sentence that just came out of Gareth's mouth was the very same, infamous sentence uttered by Eddie's lips just before the first death of Season 4—a rather brutal death involving the very ball of sunshine that was just tasked to retrieve you.

Speaking of that ball of sunshine—

"Y/N, you coming?"

You blinked, quickly returning Eddie's wave before whipping your head back around to face the ginger next to you once again.

You had to admit, it was very surreal coming face-to-face with people from the show who were meant to die—it felt kinda like seeing a ghost, and a part of you (just a teensy-weensy, little part) found it... well... unsettling.

But, that was just a small part.

"Yeah. Let's go."

You shook off the residual fear that lingered from that little moment before finally continuing to follow Chrissy down the hall.

The whole walk was full of her detailing you on the failed practices of the cheerleaders in your absence. Apparently, Heather tried and failed to do a cartwheel into a back-flip as part of one of the routines before dramatically throwing her pompoms to the ground and angrily muttering that you could do it instead.

You had no idea who Heather was but you wished you were there to see it.

Oh, and—with you gone—it seemed as though a lot of the girls had taken to slacking off, opting to gaze longingly at the sweaty boys that played basketball just across the Gym instead of actually being productive.

You doubted that would get any better with Billy around now.

"Well, well, well," a high-pitched voice sliced through your thoughts and you blinked, finally noticing that you arrived at the Gym. "Look who finally decided to show up."

You recognised that puffed-up, blonde hair from the first day of your arrival, the stance she took on being an almost-exact replica of the one back in the infirmary.

"Finally done punching the daylights out of some random freak in school?" She scoffed out.

"Sarah," Chrissy hissed from beside you, "don't say that. Y/N's been sick recently."

"Sick of being just as aggressive as her brother?" Sarah rolled her eyes.

Before you could retort with your own defense, however, someone else had piped in—that person being a brunette with rather short, straight hair, "You're talking like you don't wanna fuck him."

Uh—what?

"Jenny!" Your eyes flitted over to the blonde just in time to catch her reddened cheeks.

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

"Whatever, let's just..."

Sarah trailed off there, jaw hanging open as her eyes seemed to land on something not within your immediate eyesight. And when you found yourself following her gaze—you located the subject of her interest, the lack of words suddenly making sense.

Golden curls you had the pleasure of seeing up close just this morning were farther now, having just barely passed through the entrance. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips as the electricity in his eyes zapped through the Gym before finally landing on you, lips edging up into what you could only call a smirk.

It wasn't long before he sauntered over, practically demanding all of the attention in the room with his walk; attention which was happily handed over to him on a sleek, silver plate.

"All this time I've been calling you princess... when you've really been a queen," as he spoke—voice as husky as ever—a teasing lilt laced into his tone, intensifying his gaze and overwhelming you with his suffocating presence. "Why didn't you say anything, dollface?"

Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Stand your ground.

You tried to, you really did—but, the only way you'd be able to keep your composure right now was by closing your eyes and pretending you didn't see him—

—so you did exactly that.

Your lashes fluttered shut and you envisioned a blank sea of darkness before uttering out a response, "Didn't think it was important."

"Yeah?" Now, while you might not have been able to see him, you could still very well hear him, and his voice was nothing short of the perfect mixture between smooth and rough and—

Stop. It.

For your own sake—and for fear of further falling apart—you chose not to say anything and only nodded.

That was a mistake.

Instant regret hit you square in the face when you felt the gentle touch of a few, rough fingers against your chin, tilting your head just enough to rest at an angle before a surge of warm air tickled your lashes.

And as he spoke—lips almost grazing your closed lids—those familiar flying pests made their home in your stomach, "Where'd those pretty eyes of yours go? Didn't seem to stop wanting to use them this morning."

Damn him and his smoothness.

In an effort to continue to save face, you resorted to squeezing your eyes even further shut—paying no mind to the blissful warmth slowly coating your form or the teasing snickers that left the bad boy's mouth; snickers which you could practically feel the vibrations of.

"What's the matter? Have I rendered Miss Queen Bee speechless?"

Your vision was dark but you could still see the smug smirk on his face. Just wait until you gathered yourself, you were gonna make him ten times more flustered than you—just wait.

The light clearing of a throat suddenly served as a reminder that you two weren't the only ones in the room and you found yourself feeling a little... cold when Billy pulled away.

Cold? Ugh, once again, damn him and his smoothness.

Finally deeming it safe to do so, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light once more before you were finally able to make out the slowly-shrinking figure of Billy Hargrove. But just as he reached the entrance of the Gym once more, he paused, one hand firmly gripping onto the frame as he called out to you over his shoulder.

"Keep your bed nice and warm for me, will ya, dollface?"

Your jaw dropped.

Someone else then said something along the lines of 'oh my god' but—if you were being honest—you were barely able to hear it over the echo of Billy's snickers as he walked away, completely amused by your reaction no doubt.

He was so unequivocally bold, you almost couldn't believe it.

"Uh, guys, I think I'm gonna take a raincheck on practice today." But, it seemed as though the other girls definitely could—judging by how the very girl who said this rushed right after Billy.

"Me too!"

"Yeah, uh, I think I'm feeling a little sick."

"Well, I, for one, am chasing up that boy."

"Not if I get him first!"

And as a majority of them rushed after the handsome male, you found yourself deadpanning.

"Bruh."

You definitely couldn't blame them though, the rest of your day was spent recalling all those scenes with him after all. Even Steve noticed your absent-mindedness in the last period of the day—trying several outlandish things to grab your attention that he only informed you of once the lesson was over.

You didn't even notice him waving his arms wildly in front of your face while the teacher's back was turned.

And even as you walked beside him, Nancy strutting ahead of the two of you after you'd picked her up from class, you still had your head roaming around in the clouds.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You hummed, half-listening, half-not.

Steve then leaned further your way, shoulder brushing your own as he whispered against your ear. "Wish me good luck?"

You blinked up at him, having paid enough attention to scrunch up your nose in confusion and ask, "Good luck for what?"

"The dinner. At Barb's?"

A few more blinks.

And then—

"Ohhhhh."

Nancy turned around at that, and Steve was quick to hush you. He only resumed talking when she faced forward once more—albeit, slower than she turned around.

"What are you doing? Trying to get me in trouble?!" His whisper came out harsh, and you winced a little.

"Alright, alright, gheez."

His attitude seemed to be at an all-time high because he rolled his eyes after that. "I just... don't get why I have to go to this stupid dinner anyway."

"Steve." It was your turn to harshly whisper. "Don't say that. Nancy needs closure, this dinner is exactly that."

You felt for Steve just a tad bit, it wasn't his best friend that died after all (thank god for that) but that didn't mean he got to complain about attending a dinner his girlfriend wanted him to be at because he was there the night of the first attack; of the first murder.

See, Barbara (or Barb) had been Nancy's best friend—the two being practically attached by the hip—so of course the night she died would be one that Nancy deeply regretted, and of course she would want closure with the parents of her best friend. It just made sense.

In fact, the whole reason why she did any of what she did in Season 2 was so that she could inform Barb's parents (who still thought their child was out there somewhere) that their kid was, in fact, dead.

"Y/N, you there?"

Caught in a monologue? Seriously, Y/N? What are you, the main character?

"Yeah, I'm here."

Seeing as you were already outside and stood right by Steve's car—you slotted your hand between the cold of both the handle and the door before pulling it open, leaping straight in, and causing the whole vehicle to jerk in a symphony of loud clangs from sheer force.

"Hey! Careful!" It seemed like your music wasn't appreciated by Steve though.

"Relax. It's not like I broke it or anything—" feeling like messing with him—because duh—a smirk slowly twitched onto your lips, "—besides, it's excited to see me, aren't you, girl?"

Steve let out another hiss when you patted the seat a little too harshly—sounding akin to a pissed off feline which just made him seem less menacing and more adorable.

Ha, you tried, Steve, you tried.

The click of the passenger door drew your eyes over to Nancy's form, watching as her legs entered one at a time before she took a seat and turned your way—"We're dropping you off then heading straight over to Barb's."—then, turning to Steve, "Right, Steve?"

You could already hear the grumbled out 'yes' coming from him and you only sent him a grin seeping with amusement when he met your gaze through the rear-view mirror—your lips stretching further as he mouthed the words 'help me' with anguish in his eyes.

"You two have fun, yeah?"

You said the sentence to piss Steve off even further but when you caught a glimpse of the look on Nance's face, a pang shot straight through your chest.

Her eyes had this far-away look about them as her lips curved up by a very small amount—though there was no joy in it, only grief.

"Hey..." you placed one hand on the shoulder of her seat, using it to pull yourself forward as you furrowed your brows, worry clouding your gaze. "You alright?"

She sniffled a little before waving her hand and nodding in response. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

Your lips tugged down and you shared a look with your best friend before he started the engine, breathing life into the vehicle as you slowly lowered your body back down onto the leather seat.

She wasn't fine; even without knowledge from the show, you could tell. She might not have been crying but her lip was definitely quivering a little and her eyes... well, they just weren't all... present in the moment.

But, she would be fine. And that was enough.

Besides, though it was cold to say, you had bigger things to worry about. Nancy would get help from Jonathan in order to come to terms with Barb's death—meanwhile, you had no one to help you out with all the spare knowledge you stored in your brain; with all the premonitions (if you could call it that) you were blessed with.

Perhaps it was time you started preparing for another bout with the demodogs—you were Steve's best friend, after all; that probably meant you'd most likely end up facing the dogs together with him later on in the Season.

"Y/N."

You perked up at the call of your name, shaking away the thoughts clinging to your brain.

"We're here."

Lo and behold, so it seemed you were, the familiar sidewalk leading up to your house being visible through the clear glass panes beside you.

Clicking open the door, you took one step out before swinging the rest of your body to follow after, and once you closed the door again, you walked over to the passenger-side window—shoes barely making a sound against the ground—before your knees bent down a little and you tapped lightly against the glass.

"Let the Hollands know I wish them the best, okay?" You offered a gentle smile to the girl sat before you, and she tried her best to muster one up in return.

"Okay..."

"See you guys."

And with a brief wave, you quickly spun around and headed towards the relatively-normal house.

You now—thankfully—had keys of your own so there was no need to knock or anything. Well—it was more like you had them all this time but didn't know where they were and just so happened to find them the other day but—details, details.

After fiddling with the keys a little, you heard a 'click!' and pushed against the handle before entering, one hand moving behind you to carefully shut the door.

"I'm home."

Curt's voice was the first to greet you—albeit, not very genuinely. "Congratulations, want a trophy?"

Uh, yes, actually. You would very much like a trophy after coming back home in one piece in the world of Stranger Things.

"We're having pasta tonight!" Luckily, Cain's words were a lot more welcoming than the other brother.

So, as was your right, you ignored your second oldest brother in favour of responding to the first. "Ooh! Pasta?!"

You had to admit, his cooking the other night was rather good—okay, it was magnificent, you just didn't wanna admit it because you stormed off the other day before being able to properly finish it.

But now that you could—

Before you could finish that train of thought, three loud knocks resounded through the room, no doubt coming from the door behind you.

Huh.

Was that Steve? Did he forget to say something?

You lightly wrapped your palm around the handle, turning it slowly before the door was open once more, a sudden, light breeze hitting you square in the face—

—though, the breeze could never be more sudden than who you saw at the door.

It wasn't your swooshy-haired companion to greet you on the other side—no—but rather, an older woman with barely visible bags underneath her drooping eyes; eyes which seemed to have lost all light, almost appearing chillingly lifeless—

—well, that was until they lit up at the sight of you.

"Oh, Y/N! Baby! I've missed you so much!"

And as she threw herself onto your form—arms engulfing you wholly, emotionally—you found yourself blanking out for once, only one thought popping up in your head:

What. The. Fuck.

Did Billy give you guys butterflies or what? 😏 (Srsly tho, I need to know if I'm writing him well—)

485 notes · View notes