Multi-Fandom Imagines, X-Readers, & One-Shots

THE KING'S GIRL - STEVE HARRINGTON

You let your Walkman drown out the sounds of masculinity; the sweating grunts and curses of the basketball practice shortly became the sound of Footloose by Kenny Loggins. Your eyes scanned over the pages of your diary, as you scribbled little notes about the members of the basketball team.

Ned Brown, Brian Bates, several people you really had no interest in writing a description for, as they all were the same. No originality among them. You watched as they played, before a commotion began on the court.

Now this was where things got interesting.

Your boyfriend had a bit of a reputation to be the bee's knees of this joint, the cats pajamas, obviously very much the heartthrob of Hawkins. He also obviously had the best hair in Indiana.

That wasn't what you loved about him- though his appearance was properly beautiful, you recognized this as you watched his smooth face furrow his eyebrows and concentrate in on his opponent, those brown eyes of his were flickering with a determination that was unmistakable.

That was what you adored. That determination. That grit. How he didn't let anything stand in his way, how if something mattered to him, it mattered more than anything else. It overtook him. You also loved his spontaneity.

Now, about his opponent. He was new, and he was built like a bull, and Steve might as well of been wearing all red. A dirty blonde mullet stuck to his collarbones with sweat, in loose, pasta noodle curls. A mustache was forming just over his top lip, but it wouldn't of been noticeable had he not been drenched. His eyes were a storming sky, and in them, lightning was striking. He was new.

Billy Hargrove.

You hadn't heard the words exchanged between the two of them, but you knew that they weren't friendly banter by the way your boyfriend ended up on the floor. You knew it wouldn't make sense for you to interfere, as already you simply being there raised questions among the lot of them, so you simply wrote down what you saw and continued listening to your music.

After practice, Steve ran to you only for a quick moment to tell you that he was going for a quick shower, and would meet you back at his car as soon as he was done.

"Hey, you mind waiting a minute for me to rinse off some of this?" He had asked you.

"Of course, I don't want to have to put up with smelly steve trying to cuddle up to me." You responded, only half-joking.

"I'll meet you back at the car. Ten minutes, fifteen tops."

"Okay, Steve."

"Okay."

The first five minutes, as you subconsciously counted down, were you actually walking to the car, your head filled with happy thoughts and the sound of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. You sat on the hood and rubbed the paintjob with your thumb, raising your head back and letting the fleeting sun hit your face. Your canary yellow blouse was button all the way up with the exception of about three buttons, the floral skirt was high upon your waist and crinkling where your stomach met your hips as you leaned into the sun.

Another five minutes passed. Bohemian Rhapsody became Morning Train by Sheena Easton. The sky was turning orange.

"Well I'll be damned, I've never seen an angel up so close." You heard faintly. You jumped, startled, and turned off the Walkman.

"Steve Harrington, damn it, don't sneak up on me from behind like that, you know this place gets crazier every minute!" You immediately started, but as you were about to go into exact detail on just how strange- how peculiar things had gotten, you found that the compliment had come from different lips.