#stranger things fandom

[ash5monster01]

hi hi!! could i please order the chicken wings extra hot to dine in, with a side of onion rings and a lemonade :)

Order #1

Now Serving!

Main Course: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Ingredients: 18+, MDNI, smut, angst, enemies to lovers, hate sex, fingering, handjob, semi-public, p in v, dirty talk, lots of teasing, close proximity, language, no use of protection, no use of y/n

Meal: Steve Harrington angst/smut, enemies to lovers, with hate sex.

Total: $30.98 = 3k words

Menu - Masterlist

You could kill Robin, fingers twitching with a need to strangle, as her drunk form slumped onto Vickie. This was her fault, dragging you here and then getting so drunk she didn’t realize what she had just done. It had been a miracle she had gotten you to agree to ride with her and Steve in the first place, a deep hatred boiling in you for the brown haired boy. Now here she was, inebriated and fawning all over Vickie who had just agreed to take her home instead. Leaving you with the two options of walking home seven miles in the cold or riding back alone with Steve “The King” Harrington. 

“It’s really no problem. I only had one drink, and I kind of want to go with her.” A heavy blush paints Vickie’s cheeks at her confession, a protective arm wrapped around Robin who could barely keep her eyes open. 

“Go ahead, the spare key is under the mat,” Steve tells her, trying to hide the way his skin crawls at the idea of letting the drunk girl out of his sight. A need to take care of her tugging at his heart. He had half a mind to follow behind them but he also knew Robin would never forgive him if he did. This was her moment. 

“Thank you, I promise we’ll be safe,” she says once more before stalking off, a smiling Robin stumbling beside her. As soon as they’re out of earshot, you let out a huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. 

It’s then Steve realizes that even the two drinks you had did nothing to lighten your hatred towards him. Not that he cared, it would just save him the trouble of you acting bratty on the way home. 

“Are you riding with me, Princess, or hitch hiking?” he sneers, using the nickname to deem you as high maintenance, no interest in what you decide. The only reason he was still offering is he was quite certain Robin would shave his head while he was sleeping if he had left you behind. 

You glare at him for the nickname. “To be honest I don’t have a preference, Harrington. Both are bad choices,” you state, trying to mask the unease you have at being alone with him. Steve Harrington had been the bane of your existence since middle school. From the moment younger you had slipped a love note in his locker and heard him laugh with his friends as you waited around the corner. What a fool you’d been and an asshole he always was. 

“Fine, walk,” he says with a heavy roll of his eyes, turning to the front yard where his BMW resided with a few other abandoned cars from the party you both had just attended. 

“Not that it matters to you but I don’t have any interest in ruining these new shoes, so I’m coming,” you growl, stomping after him with anger and determination. He made your blood boil and the adrenaline that gave you was better than any drug you could’ve had here. It was enough for you to willingly swing open the door and slide inside of the car. 

“Pretty princess and her poor shoes,” Steve mumbles, joining you in the cab of the car and slamming his door shut behind him. 

You smirk as he turns the key over, the engine rumbling to life. “At least you think I’m pretty,” you tease and he fumes, steam practically coming from his ears at your words. Yet he ignores you, shifting the car into drive and leaving the party in both of your wakes. Hopefully the entire situation as well. 

You last only five minutes before you start fumbling with the radio, unable to take the silence and the close proximity of the evil boy beside you. His cologne invades your senses and stray hairs fall onto his forehead, it was annoying and made your skin crawl. You don’t miss the way he scowls every time you switch it from a song he likes. Finally, you land on a station that plays a staticky version of Waterloo by ABBA, and you’re immediately humming along. 

“God, you have shit taste in music,” Steve mutters, and you roll your eyes. Not the least bit surprised he couldn’t recognize the fun and whimsy of ABBA and instead probably lived by synth rock, Tears for Fear and Starship, all bands who wouldn’t exist without the ones from the 70s, including ABBA. It only made you even more annoyed with him. 

“Damn, I guess I’ll never be good enough for you Harrington,” it’s a low blow, you know it, but he deserved it. You loathed him for all the right reasons, he was smug and cruel, but he loathed you for everything else. The very being of who you were and things you couldn’t change, and that made all the difference. 

“I don’t recall ever saying that, Princess,” he says, fingers gripping tightly over the steering wheel as he sped down the dark street. Determined to get as far away from this night and you as possible. 

“Oh please. It’s always something about me having bad taste in music. I’m too loud. Not good looking enough to date,” the last one slips out as you mock him, words uttered from so long ago, heavy laughs bellowing through the halls and shattering your heart even more. A bitter taste settles on your tongue and you accept that your anger has revealed more of your feelings than originally planned. 

Silence fills the car, a realization settling over Steve as the last few years play behind his eyes. He had despised you for making assumptions about him, always seeing the worst, and never giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now he knew there was reason, something tangible enough to fuel this fire towards him for so long. You had overheard him and his friends all those years ago and suddenly some of your resentment had become reasonable. Yet a new spark of anger hits him, annoyed at you for not being honest with him from the start, and instead assuming it had been him who said those vicious words all those years ago. Now it made sense why you hated him so much when he had become friends with Robin. No matter what he did, or your shared best friend said, you still wouldn't give him an inch. Instead you had been making his life hell for so long instead of just asking him for the truth. 

“And this is supposed to make me pity you? You are always calling me an asshole, assuming I don’t care about anyone, pestering me by asking when was the last time I did something nice for someone? God it drives me nuts!” he gasps out, mocking you right back, and his dismissal of your words reignites the deep hatred for him in a whole new way. You knew some of your claims had been unjust, that he did in fact care deeply for many people, and had just been nice enough to still drive you home. It still didn’t change the fact that he thought he was better than you when you pined after him all those years ago. 

“Yeah well someone ought to put you in your place,” you huff, watching as he slams the gear shift into park, now across the street from your house. All the lights are off inside, your parents probably expecting you to stay the night with Robin. 

“Yeah well, someone should put you in yours,” he exclaims as he turns to face you, no longer half focusing on the road. He cuts the engine, either to not wake your neighbors or yell at you more, you’re not sure. Yet when the headlights go out and you’re both left in the dark, something electric fills the vehicle. 

“Oh yeah? And how exactly would someone do that?” you ask viscously, body instinctively leaning closer with a need to hurt him or maybe something else. 

Steve isn’t sure what comes over him, whether it was the adrenaline from the current fight, or the single beer he had at the party, whatever it was he finds that his distaste for you borderlines with something heavier. A desperate need tugging at him and as he studies your face, eyebrows high and angry, he finds himself grabbing the back of your head and smashing his mouth against yours.

You don’t react, a bit shocked but a little fuzzy from the blood pumping in your veins and Steve Harrington’s lips against yours. You hate that he tastes like mint and cigarette smoke, a dizzying combination, and you also hate that it makes you melt into his embrace. Your anger matches his own, bleeding into something else that brings you to grip the collar of his shirt. When it’s clear you’re both participating in this shocking turn of events, Steve dares to dart his tongue into your mouth, tasting and memorizing the feeling of you against him. He’s on autopilot, embracing the heat of your anger, and lust stirring something deep in him that yearns for more of you. 

“This doesn’t change anything, by the way,” you say when his mouth finds your neck, sucking and scraping teeth against skin as your perfume invades his senses. His hands light your skin on fire, and when one of his palms cups your breast, it’s shocking how wet you get for him. 

“Trust me, I still can’t stand you,” he mutters against your skin but his hands roaming every inch of you says otherwise. Knowing you’re both on the same page, you surprise even yourself by tugging your shirt off your form, detaching Steve from your neck for only a moment before his lips find his way trailing down your skin and to the tops of your breasts. 

“Sure seems like it,” you say in a heavy breath, fingers tangling in his hair when he pulls one of the cups of your bra down and runs a tongue over your hardened nipple. He growls against your flesh, fingers brushing softly over your stomach as his hand travels down and under your skirt. He doesn’t regard the material of your panties, merely tugging it to the side when a calloused finger drags through your wet folds. 

“Same goes for you,” he smirks, now aware of how turned on you were for him. Quickly he teases your clit and enjoys the feeling of you soaking his fingers. You want to give a snarky comeback but it feels too good, the arousal coming from the deep hatred the both of you shared. There was something hotter about the fact it was Steve of all people making you feel like this. Both of you too worked up to care if it was the other filling that need. 

Instead of yelling at him some more you tug him close and put your lips back on his. He accepts the kiss the same time his free hand circles around your back and finds the clasp of your bra. It annoys you even more that he’s able to undo it with just one hand, the straps falling down your shoulders and leaving your upper half completely bare. You couldn’t be anymore thankful for the fact your parents were asleep right now. He stops kissing you only to suck a nipple into his mouth the same time he plunges a finger deep into you. You can’t suppress the loud moan that falls from your lips at the combined sensation. He grins against your skin and moves to tease and suck your other nipple, finger pumping in and out of you as you drip against his hand. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he mumbles against your chest, leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake that you knew would fuel your anger even more in the morning. 

Wanting to feel like you have some sort of control you reach for his pants, hand traveling blindly until you feel his hard length taut against his zipper. You grip him over the fabric, feeling his body shutter against yours despite the pesky center console in both of your ways. Almost as if he was arguing physically, he adds a second finger, feeling you clamp down on his hand the same time you begin to drag down his zipper. With much effort you finally have him freed from his pants, heavy length squeezed tightly in your palm, thumb rubbing the beads of precum softly against his tip. His cock twitches from the touch, giving way how good it is for him too, and for just a moment instead of hating each other, you both jerk each other off. 

“Fuck it, take those panties off,” he demands, hand slipping out from under your skirt. You want to disobey, glare at him for trying to boss you around, but then you watch him suck his fingers clean and without a single thought you lift your hips and slide the fabric out from under your skirt. At the same time Steve slides his seat as far back as it can go before discarding his shirt and tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees. 

“Come here,” he says once your panties are abandoned on the floor along with the wedges you previously didn’t want to destroy on the walk home. You move quickly, hands finding his shoulders as your leg swings over his lap and center console. You clench around nothing when his hardened length brushes against your heat now sat over him. You grind softly against him, watching as his eyes close before grabbing the handle on the side of the seat and watch as it lays him almost all the way down. 

“I’m in charge now,” you tell him, feeling his fingers tighten around your hips as you reach between you both to grab him again. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as you drag his tip through your folds, using your wetness to make it easier to take all of him. He was bigger than any guy you’d had before but you’d never tell him that. Instead you press him against your entrance and slowly sink down until he’s all the way inside. You don’t move at first, hands steadying yourself on his hairy chest that only makes you even more wet. It was a curse that he was this attractive for an asshole. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks after you don’t move for a long time and you roll your eyes before lifting and sinking back down. His head falls back against the seat when you do and the reaction causes you to find a pace, moving up and down and gasping every time he hits the right spot. Pretty soon it’s no longer about pleasuring him but finding that angle that feels just right. When you start grinding back and forth with him inside you, whining as the coil inside you begins to tighten. Steve sees his opportunity, reaching to rub circles onto your clit so you’ll cum before he does. He didn’t need the extra embarrassment of finishing too soon, especially with you of all people.

“I’m close,” you tell him, panting out your words as his hips start to lift and meet your own. You’ve left scratch marks down his chest, dangling your tits in his face. When finally you meet each other in one hard thrust that has you crumbling on top of him, cumming fast and hard as you shudder against his body. The suddenness has him finishing right behind you, hips bouncing your almost limp body above him, and adding to the sensation of both of your orgasms. 

Finally silence settles in the car, something other than indifference and desire filling the air. You lay against his chest, neither of you speaking or looking at the other even though he was still inside you. It was intimate and scary, both of you showing more to the other than you ever have before. The shield of hatred is drawn away for just a moment and you can still barely feel the heartache younger you still carried for the boy. A puppy love that might never go away. 

“I better get going,” you grumble when it becomes too much, sitting up and reaching for your shirt while still straddling his lap. You avoid eye contact at all costs, pulling the shirt over your head and pretending you weren’t still pressed against Steve Harrington of all people. 

He watches with furrowed brows as you reach over and collect your shoes and bra, avoiding the confrontation of what you both just did before popping his car door open and slipping out. Finally your head lifts, eyes meeting his own that look different for the first time you have ever known him. Your anger is still there but for a moment it temporarily settles in your stomach and doesn’t jump to be let out. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him and he nods, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his pants and boxers back up his still half hard length. A fear constricting him at the prospect he may never feel this good with someone ever again. 

“Anytime,” he jokes, still remembering how an hour ago he was prepared to leave you behind and instead a weird and different kind of fondness intermingled with his annoyance towards you. It’s then he remembers your words from before. 

“It was Tommy by the way. He was the one who found that note and said you weren’t good looking enough. If I had found it I would have checked yes. I still would,” the confession feels like a bomb dropped, shocking you to your very core and you can still picture the lined paper now. 

Do you like me? ▢ yes ▢ no

And your nervous signature signed sweetly beneath with a crooked heart next to it. Steve still had it, stuffed in a drawer at home, but he would probably never tell you. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” you say, using his actual name for the first time all night and Steve nods, lips pressed together tightly. Slowly you walk away on shaky legs, leaving behind your panties as a reminder of the one time you both seemed to be on the same page. When Steve sees you disappear inside the house he lets out a heavy sigh and restarts his car, wishing he could go back in time and change how things happened between you two. 

“Goodnight, Princess.”

[maycelah]

me @ christmas watching st5 part 2 while my family eats supper ;-;

[niku30]

This year is my year - I can feel it ❤️‍🔥🦇

[moonstruckme]

MAE! I have a request… <3 reader finds out Steve keeps Polaroids of her around different spots, like tucked in his wallet or the sun visor of his car or in his bathroom mirror

Thanks for requesting!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 728 words

“You look like you just came from the movies,” you say. 

Steve turns his head to look at you over the top of his sunglasses. You grin. “I’ll have you know, these are Ray-Bans.” 

“Are you sure? Because they’re just like the ones they gave out for Jaws 3D.” 

Even with the dark lenses, you can sense your boyfriend rolling his eyes as he turns back to the road. “You’re just jealous because you didn’t bring any.” 

Caught. “If you were a gentleman, you’d give me yours.” 

“Sorry, baby. Driver needs to see the most.” 

“Fine,” you sigh, putting a bit of theatrics into it. You reach for the sun visor. “Don’t think I won’t remember this the next time you want a blanket at my place.” 

You flip the visor down, and a little plastic square flutters into your lap. You pick it up. 

“Hey,” says Steve, “that’s totally different. If you ran your heat, neither of us would need blankets. But if you want me to start bringing my own—” 

“Stevie.” 

“Oh, it’s Stevie now,” he mutters. 

You turn to him, holding up the picture. “When did you take this?” 

Steve glances away from the road for a second. “Oh. Don’t you remember? That was at the lake last summer.” 

You do remember, now. Steve’s no master photographer—the light refracts off the water, fuzzing the picture and obscuring parts of your face—but it’s clearly you. You’re standing waist-deep in the lake, clearly trying to splash Steve while cheesing into the camera. You remember the day, but not the moment. 

Steve brings that polaroid camera everywhere. You know where it is now, stowed in the glove box right against your knees. He takes pictures with it sometimes, but always stows them away immediately so they can develop somewhere dark. You haven’t ever thought to ask about them. Haven't seen one until now. 

“Why do you have this here?” you ask. 

“I just like to keep them where I can find them,” Steve says. “Hey, put that back when you’re done, will you?” 

You blink at him. “You mean there are more?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He looks at you again, eyebrows flicking up at the open curiosity in your expression. “You wanna see some?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“Alright. Put that one back.” He shifts in his seat, reaching into his back pocket. “I don’t need any getting lost.” 

You feel your lips tilt bemusedly. “You keep them in random places, but you don’t want them to get lost?” 

Steve digs out his wallet. “Nothing random about it. There’s a system, okay?” You reach for the wallet, but he holds it away. “Put it back.” 

“Okay, okay.” You grin, stowing the polaroid back where you found it before grabbing for Steve’s wallet. The worn leather parts for you easily. “Oh.” 

There are a few pictures in here. You holding flowers at the farmer’s market, you decorating cupcakes, you on your bed at home. Some have you looking into the camera, others not. In all of them you look happy. You think that’s probably how you look most of the time when Steve’s with you. 

“Steve.” Affection aches in the back of your throat. “This is so sweet.”

“It’s nothing,” he says. When you look at your boyfriend, you can see the faint tinge of a blush beneath the frames of his sunglasses. 

You gather the pictures carefully in one hand, using the other to link your fingers through his. “Why did you keep all of these?” 

Steve makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “What, I’m not allowed to want to look at you? Why would I take them just to get rid of them?” 

“I don’t know.” Your voice softens. “I just didn’t know you had all these. It’s cute.” 

Steve grins. He glances over at you once, then again, leaning over for a quick kiss. 

“Hey!” you laugh. “Eyes on the road.” 

“You’re cute,” he says.

“Yeah, you must think so.” 

“Don’t go getting a big head.” Steve uses your joined hands to tug on your arm teasingly. You let it draw you closer to him, smitten.

“Too late for that. You’re like my own personal paparazzi. You know I’m gonna have to start taking a bunch of pictures of you too, now, right?” 

“I don’t think you have to.” 

“Oh, I definitely have to.”

[cheesesandwichsanto]

Cherry Lip Gloss

Summary: Eddie is madly in love with you and tries to shoot his shot.

Warning: some curse words

Word Count: ~1.8k

A/N: English is not my first language

If you enjoy the story; likes, reblogs and comments are really appreciated 🖤

You were straddling his lap, your lips brushing against each others, still catching your breath and your lips swollen from the make out session before.

A few drops of sweat glistened on Eddie’s forehead.

You wore a dress - too short and too tight. Eddie loved it. It was everything he had ever imagined.

“Eddie?” you asked him quietly.

Your thumb running over his lower lip.

Your head fell back, revealing your neck, covered in hickies.

“Yeah baby?” he answered, hypnotized by your beauty, not able to take his eyes off you.

“I want you to…

beep beep beep

His alarm clock was ringing.

Fuck.

It was just another dream.

Another amazing dream.

But that didn’t ruin his mood.

It was Wednesday, which meant he had math for the first two periods with Mr. Mundy - and, luckily, it was one of the classes he shared with you.

There you both were, sitting in math class, him a few rows behind you, watching you, his head propped up on his hand.

You were still chitchatting with your friend Stacy, but as soon as Mr. Mundy entered the classroom, you both went quiet and Stacy turned around.

He was madly in love with you.

How you just sat there, wearing your green and orange cheerleading uniform.

Your hair was pulled up in a perfect ponytail.

Makeup? Not too much and flawless as always. Nails? Perfectly manicured.

But one little thing was missing - his favorite part.

He watched how you rummaged through your backpack, pulled out a pink lipgloss and a little mirror and applied it.

Damn.

What would he give to just taste it.

One. Single. Time.

What flavor were your lips?

Strawberry? Cherry? Or maybe vanilla?

How soft your plump lips must feel.

He had to stop himself from drooling like damn fool.

He felt stupid for being jealous of a lip gloss.

You felt eyes on you and looked around, stopping when you met Eddie’s and looking him straight in the eyes.

He froze, - caught in the act.

He looked shyly away, a light blush creeping across his cheeks.

You just grinned.

He was not really subtle in observing.

He used to think you would be a rich, arrogant, stuck-up bitch, just like the other cheerleaders. But there was this one time where you and him got detention together.

Him for being late (and that happens a lot) and you for god knows what reason.

Ms. O’Donnell had to leave the room and ordered to do your homework.

He still remembered how sweet your voice sounded when you turned around and asked him for help.

How your bright eyes locked onto his.

He helped you, and for the first time, realized that you weren’t like the rest.

You both talked for the rest of detention. You didn’t see him as the town’s freak or a weirdo. No.

You showed honest interest in what he had to say - about his hobbies, his music and even hellfire club.

There wasn’t any other way than to fall for you. You were the reason for his beautiful dreams. And the reason he couldn’t sleep at all sometimes.

You were nothing like the others.

You even stood up for him against Jason when he made fun of Eddie one time. Telling him “just leave him alone” and pulling Jason away on his arm.

He would do everything to be with you.

But there were only two problems.

The first one: you already had a boyfriend - Andy Johnson, one of the balls-into-laundry-baskets-jocks. He had seen you and him arguing and fighting more than once.

The main reason, according to Eddie, had to be your boyfriend being a douchebag and dumb as fuck for not valuing you enough.

Little did he know that he was the reason.

The second one: your cousin was Jason Carver. Your mothers were sisters. He was really protective, acting like your big brother, even though he’s younger than you. Everyone knew that him and Jason were arch-enemies. Eddie hates Jason. Jason hates Eddie. It had always been this way. And it would stay that way forever.

At lunch break, while walking down the hallway, Eddie saw you standing by your locker, putting your books away and checking yourself out in the mirror you’d hung on the locker door. Suddenly, he saw something fall on the floor. Without thinking, he walked over to you and picked up what he now recognized as your lip gloss.

Strawberry - he knew it.

“Y/N?” He asked.

You turned around and looked at him, surprised.

“Yes?” You replied.

Your beautiful eyes - oh god, he felt his legs turn to pudding, but managed to hold up your lip gloss to hand it back to you.

“It fell out of your locker. That color really suits you, by the way. I.. uhm …really like strawberries” he said shyly. Not a sign of the loud, confident, stand-on-the-cafeteria-table-and-scream-Eddie.

You looked at his hand and took the lip gloss - but not without noticing his rings.

A smile played on your lips.

“Thank you so much, that’s really kind of you. Normally, I buy cherry, but unfortunately it’s sold out, so I went with strawberry. I really like your rings, they are super cool” you said, resting your hand on Eddies arm and giving him a loving smile.

Where you… where you blushing?

His heart did backflips.

“Cherry huh?” He mumbled nervously.

You didn’t notice someone approaching.

Until you heard a voice.

It was Jason.

“Hey you alright? Is that freak bothering you? Want me to take care of it?” Jason’s voice boomed. You just rolled your eyes.

“First of all. Cousin. Stop calling him freak ‘kay? And no, he is not bothering me. Just let’s go.”

You slammed your locker shut and sent Eddie an apologetic smile before turning around and following Jason to the cafeteria.

Eddie leaned against your locker, bumping his head against it, grinning like an idiot.

He high-fived himself in his mind for not making a complete fool out of himself.

You had talked to him.

You even touched his arm.

For a small second, he thought that maybe he had a chance. But he wasn’t about to get his hopes up. Jason always appeared out of nowhere, and you had a boyfriend.

But he had an idea for how to get your attention once again.

Friday afternoon was hellfire club.

But as soon as he entered the theater room, he was able to hear only one topic - your breakup with Andy.

Eddie was so happy - it felt like his birthday and Christmas combined.

He grinned from ear to ear.

On Monday’s, you two didn’t share a class, and he could only see you at lunch or when you were standing at your locker.

So when lunch approached, he was the first to rush out of class.

He wanted to “bump” into you by your locker, accidentally, of course.

When he turned into the hallway he saw you standing there - but with you was Andy.

You were arguing.

Again.

But apparently you said something that made Andy so angry, he stormed off.

Thank God.

You turned back to your locker to shut the door. That was his moment.

His only chance.

He took a deep breath and walked towards you.

“Hey Y/N. How you doing? Everything alright? I heard what happened.”

A smile spread across your face as soon as you saw him.

“Oh hey. I didn’t see you at first. I’m feeling super duper. I finally got rid of that turd Andy. I couldn’t feel better. Honestly, I should’ve done it months ago” You said.

Eddie chuckled “I’m sorry to hear it ended like that… but also kind of not sorry?” he said with an awkward grin, scratching his head.

“Not sorry huh?” You laughed.

“Yeah, I mean.. I always thought he was kind of an asshole. But uh,…” he reached into his jacket. “That’s not what I came over for. I actually have something I wanted to give you.”

You looked confused “Me?”

He nodded, pulled something out of his jacket and handed it to you.

It was a lip gloss - the cherry one.

Your favorite.

Your eyes lit up.

“No way… How did you even get this? It’s out of stock everywhere.”

“Let’s just say I have connections.”

“Thank you so, so much. What do I owe you?”

“Nothing, it’s a gift…. Go on a date with me?” Eddie fidgeted with his rings nervously.

You were surprised that he asked, but you’d always thought he was cute. And Andy is history. So, why not?

“I’d love to”

“I would understand if.. wait.. really?… I mean…cool. Cool” he tried not to freak out completely.

You pulled a pen from your backpack and scribbled something down on Eddies arm.

“That’s my address. Pick me up at 7.”

Eddie starred on the part of his arm that now is covered with your handwriting.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there at 7.”

You gave him one last smile before turning to walk down the hallway - the cherry lip gloss in your hand.

Eddie watched you walking away. When you were out of sight he let out a breath.

“Holy shit. She said yes.”

[ermasdoodles]

📄 🖊️

[rotteneldritchhorror]

Eddie obviously knows how to sew (hes not only dirt-poor living off of a single consistent paycheck and whatever he earns selling drugs, but hes also a punk- theres no way he DOESNT know how to sew), but steve most definitely does. not. one of his shirts get a hole and he throws it out.

When eddie first witnesses this, hes fucking MORTIFIED and ends up digging a t-shirt out of the trash and sewing the hole closed and fixing the loose stitching on the hem and gives steve a lecture about not wasting fabric and money.

And from then on, steve just shows up at the munson household every now and then with various clothes in his arms, asking eddie to fix them for him.

[strawbuddy-luv]

I need y'all to listen to me possessed Will choking Mike to death and Mike tapping out "I love you" in Morse code on his wrist because he can't talk but he can't die without at least some part of Will knowing

[willthezombieboy]

I really love the fact that when milevens talk about byler are like

and bylers talking about mileven are just like

[ash5monster01]

Prompt Diner is Open

Welcome everyone, I recently hit 2,000 followers and as a thanks I wanted to open my requests for diner orders. You can thank @keeryhours for the wonderful idea, I’ve been closely following their blurb bakery, and decided to put a fun twist on it and make it my own. I’m sure she’d love if you placed an order for dessert with her as well.

That being said, the concept is pretty simple. Pick your main course and how you would like it served with your choice of a side. If you order something to dine in, you may also pick a drink to go with your meal. All orders will be fulfilled with a femreader. Keeping that in mind, an order will look like this.

There aren’t many rules when it comes to this. On my account it’ll still say my requests are closed but I’m going to keep it that way for the duration of this celebration so I can focus on your guys orders without being distracted by other requests. Depending on how many orders/similar ones I get means there is a chance you may not receive yours, but don’t be discouraged by that. The last time I did a celebration I got maybe 10 people to interact with it. You never know how it’ll go.

I know I have written for more characters than there are main courses but I chose the main ones that I know people follow me for and limited my list in order to not get burnt out. If you would like to order off the menu, just reach out via dm, and I can let you know if I’m willing to accept the order or not.

I’m not sure how long this diner will stay open but as long as it says open in red at the top of this post, you are welcome to place an order or as many as you like.

I hope you enjoy!

[baleful-blurbs]

eddie munson sketches I've hoarded for awhile. <3 🎶🎸🦇

[niku30]

Kinda obsessed with drawing Billy I‘m ngl

[moonstruckme]

blanket fort - omg “you’re so cute when you’re half asleep.” with steve RAHH

Thank you Mal ilysm!

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 296 words

You’re luxuriating in the warm, syrupy goldenness on the insides of your eyelids, but the click of a camera snaps you right out of it. 

“Steve,” you whine. “Don’t.” 

“Shh.” You can hear laughter in your boyfriend’s tone. “Go back to sleep, babe.” 

It’s an enticing proposition. You start to, but another click squashes that notion. 

“Stop.” You reach for the camera, but you’re slow and lazy. Steve easily keeps it away from you. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says again. 

“I wasn’t sleeping.” You squint against the sun. “And I can’t if I know you’re taking pictures of me.” 

Steve hums. “Sure, you’re not sleeping. That book’s really gripping you, huh?” 

You forgot about your book. You raise your head, and there’s a small puddle of drool seeping into the pages. “Shit.” 

Steve laughs, smug and fond at once.

“I was half sleeping,” you admit. You lift yourself up from where you’re laying on your stomach on the soft grass of Steve’s backyard, stretching. 

“Hey, c’mon,” your boyfriend protests. His hand lands in the center of your back as you arch it, feeling the crackling of your joints. “You looked so comfortable. Lay back down, baby.” 

“Yeah, so you can take more pictures of me drooling?” You fix him with a faux glare, totally not affected by how the light sheen of sweat on his face makes him seem to glow in the sun. “Pass.” 

“You’re so cute when you’re half asleep,” Steve coaxes. 

“I’m burning those pictures, Harrington.” 

“Oh, yeah?” He picks the polaroids up from where they’re laid face-down on the grass and sticks them in his back pocket, giving it a pat. “Okay, come and take them.” 

You roll your eyes, and Steve laughs as you flop back down onto the grass. 

[lllivia]

They look so tiny I wanna carry them all in my pocket

[ermasdoodles]

Flash Warning!

The demogorgon… it got meh.