cherry-smokes

[cherry-smokes]

omg when i was younger my dad and i’d get haircuts together and sometimes my cousins would tag along - and one of my cousins - who had very little hair at the time - would insist that her hair be cut too - so the barber man would spritz her head a bit and snip snip around her head to make it seem like she was getting a haircut too… and i feel like that’s steve with robbie and farah fawcett. babyboy wants to be exactly like his dad what do you mean he can’t have thr spray! >x( and bless steve he’ll do anything to keep his boy from frowning!

it’s very upsetting to me that birdie has no cats. maybe she can pick up a stray soon haha (i trust your vision haha just manifesting because i love cats and i’m tickled by the idea of no nonsense birdie doing baby talk at either an impressed or the cuddliest cat)

also i think birdie has a crow. a whole murder of them. they bring her little trinkets and follow her around. robbie thinks she’s a disney princess. steve’s not sure he’s wrong.

(there’s this guy on tiktok who’s living my dream crow life, they wait for him to come come, line the streets to see him off, and i can’t be certain i’m not making this up but i seem to remember the crows descending to protect him against someone/something? either way, would be super cool haha i’d love to befriend a ‘wild’ bird)

very excited for the next part(s) + i love robbie lord! or birdie lore!! i’ll take some stevie too, anything you feed us i’ll peck away at <33

Oh my god that is such a sweet story:’)

Crows are soooooo Birdie coded. Sadly she hasn’t gotten her hands on one as a pet but never say never.

[cherry-smokes]

pwease sir can we have some more of steve and his strange girl? and robbie!! ?

bad twist impression aside, i loved the fic!! so fun!! so endearing!! i love robbie he is so precious and i love his inquisitive little mind and earnest enthusiasm and our girl’s special dynamic with him (already)

i’m picturing birdie with a book on birds for her new pal on sunday and he thinks christmas has come early and she’s like “it’s so you get more out of the club” but she’s secretly very pleased 🥹

birdie has a cat, no?

also steve dresses robbie up sooo cute!! little dungarees and fuzziest sweaters (they match sometimes)!!

sorry these are such random thoughts haha i’m half asleep but soo excited for robbie and steve’s book house adventures ft birdie

I love your random thoughts. This is my version of bird watch club. Robbie lore club. Steve knows how to dress himself so one of the easiest things to do as a new dad was dress his kid. Robbie is his mini me! This applies to the hair too, he’s too scared to go in full throttle with Farrah Faucet spray because he’s terrified the fumes are gonna go to the kids head. He’s been spraying it into his hands and working it into Robbie’s hair that way. Don’t ask him what the science is behind that, it just makes sense in his head.

As for Miss Birdie it is so interesting that you mention a cat because, in either this next part or the third installment that is brewing in my drafts right now….she does indeed have a little companion but I fear….it isn’t a cat.

[cherry-smokes]

My Strange Lady

Life has thrown many curveballs at Steve, so he shouldn't be so surprised when he begins to grow fond of a very peculiar librarian. Paring: Single dad!Steve Harrington x oddball!reader Word Count: 3.1K Note: this is a reader insert, I just don't really use y/n in my work so instead the reader goes by the nickname Birdie here.

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Steve always wanted to be a father. He had a plan, fall head over heels in love and have a big wedding. While his big house always gave him the creeps as a kid because of how empty it was, Steve wanted to fill his own with kids and a dog if they wanted one. The halls wouldn’t feel haunted, they would be full of memories. Crawling with proof of life there. Crayon marks on the walls, stains on the carpets, baby gates and everything. While he didn’t get the wedding, or the big house, he did get the crayons and the stains. He got Robbie.

His sweet baby. Who came out with the same head of hair as his daddy and an even bigger heart. Steve made sure to let him feel as deeply as he wanted to. He knows how long it can take a person to come out of that cold shell when they’ve been conditioned to think that feelings are a sign of weakness.

Steve wouldn’t trade their little life for the world. Of course he still spends endless hours at night fretting over whether or not he’s good enough to fill both roles in Robbie’s life. Dad guilt. You can’t escape it, but Robbie is healthy and happy and so very loved.

When Robbie started sleeping in his own room Steve struggled with it more than he did. He would wait for him to fall asleep and lay on the floor next to his small bed with a pillow and a blanket. He did this until his shoulder started perpetually aching and then he realized maybe it was time to stop.

Steve has tried to devote every waking moment of his life for the past five years to Robbie. He’s on his own here, so as much as he wanted to be a stay at home dad Steve took up a job at the hospital working the front desk. It paid well enough and gave them both good health insurance. So he braved through putting Robbie in daycare and tried his best not to spend his day worrying about how he was doing. If kids were being nice to him, if he was being nice to others. If he was eating his lunch and if the adults at the daycare center were being sweet to him. It’s a little easier now that he’s in kindergarten. Steve’s more used to the dynamic of Robbie being away for a few hours a day. Steve's met his teacher, a nice older lady with glasses that make her eyes look buggy and a kind soul. Robbie adores her, he makes her drawings with messy handwriting misspelling his appreciation for her. He’s good like that. He loves sharing, sharing his feelings and his snacks. He gives out compliments like they’re nothing but the best part about it is that he really means them.

He’s such a kind kid. That’s probably why he almost cried when he told Steve he forgot to return some books he got at the library and now they’re overdue. It’s four thirty in the afternoon and the library closes at five. While Steve tried convincing him that it would be okay if they returned them tomorrow morning before school, Robbie wouldn’t budge.

The poor guy just felt so guilty.

So now Steve’s rushing into the library hand in hand with Robbie ten minutes before they close, praying to whoever will listen that the cranky librarian Debby isn’t cruel enough to turn them away. He prays even harder that she won’t scold Robbie for an overdue return. Instead of Debby he spots a much younger woman standing at the desk stacking books neatly into a big leather bag. It’s bulky and she pulls things out and puts them back in as if she’s playing Tetris with her books, glasses cases, hand sanitizers, and various other miscellaneous objects. She has a deadpanned look. She kind of reminds him of a younger, much prettier version of Debby.

Her hair is in a messy updo. She’s in all black, in an off the shoulder sweater with some frilly lacy shorts and tights. He catches a glimpse of her shoes from under the desk, bright red ballet flats. The amount of rings she wears make clinking sounds against each other as she sorts out her bag.

“Excuse me?”

Her head snaps up. He gets a good look at her finally, and she really is much prettier than Debby.

“Returning books?”

Steve snaps out of his daze and nods his head.

“Yeah, sorry we’re so late I know you guys are about to close but my boy just really wanted to return his books.”

The woman shrugs as she moves to sit down by the boxy dated computer on the desk. “We don’t close until five. It’s four fifty two, you’re allowed to come in until five. I’m getting paid regardless of if people come in or not.”

He expects her to smile, or give him any inclination that she’s trying to make them feel better about the situation. Instead she just has the same somewhat bored look on her face and he realizes she’s just saying it because it’s true.

He hopes his confusion isn’t visible on his face as he hands over the books along with Robbie’s library card. She grabs them and begins logging them into the system. She looks at the card and then to Robbie.

“Are you Robert?”

The boy nods.

“These books were due yesterday.”

The boy tucks into his father’s side in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve’s about to tell her off. Scold her for making a kid feel bad about something that was an honest mistake but she speaks up before he can.

“Thank you. Deadlines are probably only implemented on kids your age to try to build up a routine of responsibility and time management. It’s probably a good sign you found it so important to turn them in before the end of the day today. Most kids wait at least a week before they bother coming in here.”

Robbie looks just as confused as Steve. The woman looks between the two of them. Something lights up in her eyes as she notices that their eyebrows scrunch the same way. She’s not made of stone. It’s sweet, and she decides to just explain what she meant.

“This was very responsible of you Robert.”

He eases up, and suddenly he isn’t hiding into his father’s side out of shame but instead out of shyness.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She finishes logging the books in and stacks the books on the return cart next to her. She spends a second organizing them from thickest to thinnest, which isn’t a huge difference since they’re children’s books but it’s curious to Steve that she takes the time to do it. When she turns around she holds out the library card to Robbie.

“Robert.”

He reaches out to grab it before speaking up. “My name is Robbie.”

“It says Robert on the card.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Would you like me to change it in the system?”

Robbie shrugs, then you shrug and as Steve’s about to thank you to walk away but Robbie speaks up once more.

“You’re nicer than Miss Debby.”

You think about this for a moment.

“Deborah’s old. People get mean when they’re old.”

“Why aren’t you mean?”

Steve thinks you might turn mean at his son’s insinuation that you’re old. But for what seems to be the tenth time in the span of the last few minutes, you surprise him again.

“I’m not as old as Deborah. Maybe I’ll get mean when I’m her age. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Robby finally seems at peace with this answer and says his thank you’s once more. Your rings clink again as you wave to him. Steve says goodbye and thank you quickly as Robby starts rushing out with a tight grip on his hand.

“We have to go fast, she's closing!”

He looks behind him and he swears for a second, he almost sees your lips quirk up. Maybe it was the light or his lack of sleep catching up to him that made it seem that way. As they walk to the car Steve can’t help but realize he never got your name.

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Steve loved when weekends came around. He always asked for time off, wanting to spend them with Robbie. On days where he has to go into work he’ll usually have Robbie stay with whoever’s available. Usually Robin or Hopper. To Steve’s surprise Hopper fights for his Robbie time like he’s fighting for his life. He loves that kid almost as much as Steve does. Almost.

Luckily, this was a free weekend for Steve. He savored getting to sleep in a little. He always wakes up feeling like he could use a few more minutes of sleep. He’s restless, wakes up multiple times in a night and tosses and turns too much, for multiple reasons. One of them is that his bed just feels too big. He’s been thinking about getting a smaller one but they’re expensive, he’d rather save the money for when Robbie grows and needs a bigger bed himself. His extra few minutes of sleep are interrupted by a sudden weight next to him.

He feels him before he sees him. Small digits poking at his face and whispering. “Daaaad. Wake up. Rise and…and uh…”

“And shine?”

Steve’s voice is rough with sleep. He peeks an eye open to look at his son. His hair is wild, sticking up in different directions and his pajamas are askew, one pant leg higher than the other. Steve’s heart swells as he opens his arm to bring Robbie in for a morning cuddle.

“Mornin’ buddy”

Robbie tries to mimic his fathers gruff voice, but it comes out a little warbled when he replies. “Morning buddy.”

Steve can’t help but chuckle. He ruffles up his son’s hair before asking what he wants for breakfast. Robbie hums, and makes a big show out of thinking about it as if Steve doesn’t already know the answer.

Weekdays mean quick breakfasts. Eggs, toast and jam, pre-cut fruits, things that can get them both fed and out the door. Weekends mean pancakes. Steve makes them extra special for his kid. Uses fruits to make little faces in an attempt to convince him that eating healthy can be fun. It works like a charm, Steve feels pretty smart for that.

Robbie eats like his dad. He just about inhales his food and Steve, like a hypocrite, has to ask him to slow down through a mouthful of pancakes himself. Robbie, being the angel he is, starts chewing slowly. Probably too slow, but Steve has learned to pick his battles. Robbie waits until he’s done chewing to speak up.

“Can we go to the book house today?”

Steve loves the terms his son uses for things. He gets the point across so Steve’s never really felt the need to correct him. Not yet at least, he just wants him to be a kid a little longer. Before he starts wanting to spend more time with his friends than his old man. So naturally Steve agrees to take him to the book house.

They walk in and browse the shelves for a bit, Robbie picks up some children’s books and then Steve walks him over to the ‘grown up’ shelves so he can find something somewhat interesting to read. He’s never been a big fan of reading for fun, but lately he finds it’s better to read in bed than stare at the ceiling thinking about every past, present, or future thing in his life.

He looked away for a second. Just one second. He was reading the inside cover of Frankenstein, when he turned to make a joke to Robbie about how it would be too scary for himself, he was gone. Everyone talks about how your stomach drops when you lose sight of your kid. Steve’s didn’t just drop, he felt like he was about to throw up all of those smiley pancakes he ate this morning.

He rushes out of the isle they were in and turns the corner. Just before he was about to start screaming like a madman he spots two familiar heads of hair over by the check-out desk. Steve can’t even find it within himself to be mad at him for roaming off, he’s just happy he didn’t get lost. Or worse.

He starts walking towards the pair, seemingly in a very intense conversation with each other. He wants to interrupt and beg Robbie to never scare him like that. Maybe give him a quick lesson about the importance of not running off, but he’s derailed when he gets close enough to hear the conversation.

“-it’s my auntie Robin’s name, but-but with different letters at the end because I’m a boy and she’s a girl.”

“Robin can be a gender neutral name. It’s a type of bird, not all Robin’s are girls.”

“What kind of bird is that?”

“It’s a Robin. They have a red-well kind of red, kind of orange. Like a brick colored chest. They sound like this-“ she then proceeds to whistle in a way that really did sound like a Robin. “You’ve probably seen them around, or heard them. They’re pretty common.”

Robbie’s jaw drops. “You can speak bird?!”

Steve finally walks up, drawing your attention away from his carbon copy of a son and to the original model instead. He tries to find something casual to say. Or clever. Anything really, but your hair is styled differently than it had been the other day and you’re wearing a pretty blue cardigan. He gets distracted and you beat him to the punch.

“Hi Steve.”

He waves and before he realizes he never told you his name.

“Uh- hi. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself properly the other day but at least Robbie did it for me.”

“He didn’t. I looked you up in the system. There’s only two Harrington’s on there so I assumed the second one was you.”

Steve feels something warm crawl up his neck. Something he probably hasn’t felt in the last five years. “You looked me up?”

“I got curious.”

You’re so…honest. Like you could really care less about niceties and ‘polite’ manners like introducing yourself to people. Not in a rude way, just in a sort of…odd way. To him at least. Maybe some people wouldn’t find it all that strange. People who didn’t have parents like his, maybe that’s why Robbie didn’t seem to mind.

“Dad-dad the lady speaks bird!”

“Bud you should call her by her name-“ “I don’t speak with birds, I just mimic them.”

You speak over each other, except you finish your sentence and Steve cuts himself off. He reaches a hand out to shake yours. “Sorry, we didn’t catch your name?”

Your hand reaches out to him, and he feels a spark shoot up his arm. An actual spark, static probably. You both flinch away and you give the softest laugh while gesturing to your sleeve. “Sorry. Wool.”

He laughs, a breathless thing and he and Robbie stand patiently waiting for an answer to his, kind of, question.

You stare back at them for a moment before coming to your senses. “Oh right!” You give them your name and it dances around Steve’s head for a moment. His son saves him any embarrassment of looking like a total doofus.

“Is it a nickname like Robbie?”

You shake your head no. “Nope. Just my full government name. People usually acquire nicknames from loved ones or in honor of something meaningful they did.”

“Meanful?”

“It means something special buddy.”

His son makes an ‘ooooooh’ sound before dramatically gasping and throwing his arms on your desk. Steve watches you freeze suddenly, like you were finally caught off guard. For some reason you can’t figure out what to do other than place your arms on the table as well, parallel to his own. “You just did something me-meanf-ugh! Special! We can call you uh…uhhh-“

Steve decides to take the reins on this one.

“Birdie?”

“YES!”

Robbie dramatically throws himself at Steve and starts shaking him. He realizes now maybe chocolate syrup wasn’t a smart choice on the pancakes. “You’re so smarty pants!”

Steve pats his son on the head endearingly as he thanks him for his compliment.

“Do you know a lot about birds?”

You look at him when you realize he’s talking to you and nod.

“They’re really fascinating creatures. For being so small they’re actually quite smart. Some Bowerbird’s actually build nests that are reminiscent of auditoriums to make their calls reverberate off the walls. They also decorate their nests in very meticulous ways to attract partners. It really begs the question of whether birds are able to have aesthetic opinions.”

"Huh, strange."

"Yeah. I have a bird watching club here but it's usually just me. Sometimes Deborah joins, but I think it's just to avoid telling people where to find the self-help section. They usually end up telling her their life story. I think people assume librarians are close enough to therapists but Deborah is the last person I would go to."

Steve can't help but let out a real laugh. It comes from deep in his chest and escapes him before he can stop it. You smile, or at least you begin to before you stop it promptly.

"Can we be in your club?"

Robbie's never shown any interest in birds. Steve is thankful he suddenly is, because a full smile actually breaks through from you. Steve isn't sure if it's the air conditioning in the library, like the static from your cardigan, or if it's just you. Regardless, your smile is followed by shivers up Steve's spine.

"Sure, it's a public library. So it's technically also a public club, anyone can join. It might be boring but the garden is nice." You lean down towards your bag and pull out a crumpled flyer. It's not colorful. Plain white paper with plain black lettering that states "Bird Watch Club, Sunday mornings" along with the library's address and what looks like a hand drawn sketch of a bird. He couldn't say which one but it was pretty. He thinks the flyer looks a little off-putting. Kind of like it's a trap to lure someone in. When he sees a much softer, kind of happy look on your face, the flyer doesn't seem so scary. You're like the Mona Lisa, not frowning but not quite smiling.

"We'll see you tomorrow morning then."

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a/n: this ended up wayyyyyy longer than I planned. I'll probably have more parts to come. I've gotten attached to Robbie.

[cherry-smokes]

i see your robby and raise you ✨robbie✨ (i dont know why two letters make it a whole other name in my head but it does)

i also like james? jamie? (ooh could be after hopper? bc in this au steve gets the father he deserves 🙂‍↕️)

theo? noah?

(don’t know if you can tell but you’ve unleashed a beast haha very hyped for your writing!!)

now this….you’re speaking my language here. I actually do agree that the two letters make a huge difference. Also I loooove the idea of hopper stepping in to be a sort of father figure to Steve, a pillar of support when he needs it the most. Steve’s parents were probably not supportive of him being a single father and they weren’t around a lot to begin with so Steve’s son really does see the group as his family. Aunt Robin, uncle Eddie and grandpa Hopper. He is a very very loved child.

[cherry-smokes]

“write it! write it! write it!” we all chant in unison about single dad!steve with his oddball gf

that’s all the encouragement I need. Brainstorming baby names. I’m thinking Robert. Robby for short (Steve named his baby boy after Robin because she’s the closest family he has, even if not by blood)

[cherry-smokes]

thinking about single dad!steve who falls in love with a blunt kind of reserved reader and she loves his baby boy so much but she’s never really spent a whole lot of time with kids. So she talks to him like he’s an adult and Steve is just smitten with his odd woman.

You’re all eating sandwiches at the park and his sweet boy just can’t stop asking you questions like-

“Where do sandwiches come from?”

“The store sometimes. Unless you make them at home.”

“Where do the- the ‘matos come from?”

“Tomatoes are grown from seeds, they grow in gardens. Well some do, most of them are grown in huge fields where they get picked and processed to be sold.”

His son nods, probably not fully understanding what you mean but not caring enough to press about what ‘processed’ means.

“Does ham grow in the ground too?”

“Meat doesn’t grow, it comes from-“

Steve has to cut you off before you completely traumatize the kid into a life of veganism.

[cherry-smokes]

Can't keep my eyes hands off of you.

AKA the time this title spoke for itself. Pairing: Steve Harrington x bassist!reader Word count: 750 Note: This lives within the Sugar and Steve universe but can definitely be read as a stand alone blurb! Warnings: drinking, PDA, and Sugar and Steve getting a little hot and heavy at the bar. Nothing crazy but please MNDI!!!!! 18+

Your skin feels slick. The air is humid and your shirt sticks to your skin. You smell like sweat and beer thanks to Eddie. When you all walked off stage your lovely, doting, proud boyfriend greeted you with a round of beers. One of which Eddie grabbed, opened, and proceeded to swing around in celebration of a good fucking show. You can't blame him. It was a really good show. The kind that has your blood pumping and your confidence at an all time high.

Despite all of the sweat and beer, all of these things scream sex appeal because apparently Steve can’t keep his paws off of you. You’re trying to stay engaged in the story Robins sharing with the group but he’s pressed against your back and his chin is digging into your shoulder. He reaches around you, covering your hand with his own as he guides you to bring your beer up to his lips.

You give him the meanest side eye, your eyebrows scrunch together and he smiles slightly making some beer drip down his chin. You think you must be a sick twisted person because you get the urge to lean in and clean him off yourself.

“Can you stop eye-fucking each other, I’m still talking you know?”

You quickly pull your beer away accidentally knocking against Steve’s front teeth. You flinch and reach your empty hand up to his mouth to soothe the ache. He slightly bites your fingers and you pull back before he can get any ideas, or maybe before you do.

“Shit! Sorry. Sorry Robin I’m listening- we’re listening.”

Steve wipes his chin on your shirt and looks up at Robin.

“I definitely wasn’t.”

You elbow him softly causing him to grunt and lean forward even more.

Eddie wraps an arm around Robin and starts guiding everyone to the pin ball machines across the room.

“C’mon Buckley. We can finish the story away from these goddamn heathens.”

You flip him off as they walk away before turning towards your wounded boyfriend.

“You’re so mean to me baby.”

The way he says it makes you almost believe him. Yet, he has this hungry look in his eyes and his big hands feel tight on your waist.

“Mhm. You like it when I’m mean.”

He nods gently, one of his hands moves towards your belt buckle. He grabs it harshly and pulls you towards him, chests pressed against each other as his other hand travels to settle itself in your back pocket.

If you were a more...discreet person you would push him away. You'd blush and look away and follow your friends to play those loud creaky pinball machines. You aren't a discreet person though.

You let Steve pull you in and kiss the fucking daylights out of you. He's so warm against you. He doesn't hesitate to let his tongue ease over your bottom lip and he sighs when you meet him halfway with ardency. He lets out a soft groan, you feel the rumble of his chest against your own as his hand grips you through your jeans. You can't help but reach up to grab onto the collar of his shirt, pulling at it as if you could be any closer to him. The tips of your fingers graze the coarse hair on his chest and you're burning.

The hand he had on your belt finally lets go and travels upwards. He grazes your shirt, slightly riding it up as he trails his hand up to the back of your head. His lips are desperate against yours, and you can feel his breath hitting your face as he inhales and exhales deeply, trying to avoid leaning away as much as possible.

You beat him to it however. Yearning to look at your sweet, desperate, pretty boy. You lean back and see that his eyes are hooded, lips swollen and red. You realize now that it isn't the adrenaline from playing a show that's got you hot and bothered. It's him.

"Where'd you go baby?"

Baby. Babybabybaby, you go crazy when he calls you that. Baby, honey, sweetheart, Sugar. All things that sound so sweet. You want to take him away from this bar and be anything but sweet to him.

"I didn't go anywhere. Do you want to go somewhere big guy?"

His eyes go wide, his mouth drops a little and he suddenly looks like a teenager who just saw tits for the first time before he speaks.

"God, yes."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[cherry-smokes]

Don’t you want me baby?

AKA Steve doesn’t want you to meet his parents and you start spiraling Pairing: Steve Harrington x bassist!reader Word count: 1.2K Warnings: hurt/comfort because Steve is just too into Sugar to let her hurt too long.

You’ve always known you weren’t a ‘bring home to the parents’ kind of girl. Frankly you took a lot of pride in it. At the end of the day you didn’t want to meet the people who created the assholes you’ve dated before. Them not offering just took the pressure off your shoulders. Relationships were always just a fleeting, sometimes fun thing. Most guys got bored after realizing they prefer to be the rockstar instead of the groupie.

You’ve denied yourself the desire for love for a long time. It didn’t feel tangible before. So why would you plague yourself with the disappointment of not being enough for someone. It was easier to live that way.

Steve made you feel different. Steve made you feel like that part of you which you had locked away for so long finally had a space to run free. That you weren’t an idiot for thinking that there truly was someone out there who would love you unconditionally. It feels too soon to say that but you couldn’t stop the freight train that was Steve Harrington from crashing into the brick wall you had built around your heart.

That’s probably why this all hurts so much.

It hadn’t even felt like a big deal to you at the time.

“I could just meet you at your place?”

“Oh…no, no I’ll come pick you up.”

“You always pick me up, let me drive. I wanna take care of you this time.” it came out teasingly. With that goddamn smile that made Steve’s knees buckle and his heart beat so strong he could feel it all the way up to his shoulders.

“No just- I’ll pick you up”

“Do you think I’m a bad driver or something?”

He chuckled at that. “Considering the fact that Eddie taught you to drive, I’m doubtful of your abilities.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve never gotten a single ticket. So you should let me treat my pretty boy to a night out and let me make him my passenger princess for once.”You grab his face and kiss him sweetly. Teeth against teeth as you both smile, but his fades faster than yours does.

“My parents are home this weekend, you don’t want deal with them.”

“Who said I didn’t want to deal with them?”

“They’re a lot.”

“Well, so am I.”

“I just think it’s better if I pick you up, yeah?”

You’ve never had a smile wiped off your face so fast. You nod and lean away from him.

“Sure, whatever you want.”

Steve makes you feel…soft. Had it been any other guy this would have never bothered you, but Steve wasn’t any other guy. He was someone you had grown to really care for. Someone you actually saw a future with, or wanted to at least. So him not wanting you to meet his parents felt like a bad omen.

If we’re closer to your family, physically and in any other sense, you would have introduced Steve to them in a heart beat. The closest thing you had to that was Eddie and the guys, and Steve had already met them.

So yeah. This was a pretty big fucking deal to you. You know the kind of girls he’s dated before. Prim and proper. The kind of girls who go on to be beauty queens or valedictorians. That never bother you before, but now you’re thinking about every reason why he wouldn’t want you to meet his folks.

Your reputation isn’t…polished. You’re abrasive, and overwhelming to some people. You hang out with ‘freaks’ and you make a living off of playing in dive bars and bartending. None of that really screams ‘life long partner.’

Maybe that’s what he’s looking for. Maybe you’re just a stepping stone for him. Some crazy story he can tell his Wall Street friends one day when he finally decides to give into his father’s wishes.

You wish all of this wasn’t running through your mind right now. Sat on your couch with Steve’s arm around you. You feel tense. Like you don’t really fit next to him. It’s been this way all night. At dinner, in the car, even at the door step to your apartment when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie instead of calling it a night.

You know what’s coming. He’s too attentive to not notice. You’ve seen how he’s cowered into himself all night and the way his eyebrows have drawn together as you brush off his affection.

You don’t want to be cruel, but you get mean when you’re hurt. You’ve never known anything else. You wish you knew a better way to deal with it but you don’t and you can’t look at this man who makes you burn and lie to him like you have to others.

So when he asks you what’s wrong you can’t bring yourself to say it’s nothing.

“Are you ashamed to be with me?”

You feel it then. His arm tenses up and it moves away from around your shoulders as he leans back to look at you.

“What?”

“I know you heard me don’t make me repeat myself.”

He looks genuinely confused. Like he can’t understand why you’re asking this.

“Why would I be ashamed of you?”

“I don’t know Steve, you tell me.”

He looks you dead in the eyes. The weight of his gaze makes you feel heavy, like you’re sinking into yourself.

“I’m not ashamed of you I l-you know how I feel about you.”

You want to believe him. You want to so badly. You want to nod and agree and curl into his side so he’ll kiss your neck and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you forget every horrible thing that’s ever happened to you both. But you can’t.

“You don’t want me to meet your parents.”

“No. I don’t.”

He’s like one of those Greek statues you see in museums. Gorgeous, and strong. The way he says it is…steadfast. One of the loveliest things about Steve is that he is stubborn…now it feels like one of the worst.

You don’t want to cry in front of him. You don’t want embarrass yourself so you choke it down like everything else and turn towards your television screen.

“Ok then.”

You rack through your brain trying to decide if you want to kick him out kicking and screaming or just let him go on his own. Before you can decide, his hand is on your face and he’s turning you towards him. His grip on your chin is tender but strong. Just like him.

“I can see those gears turning in your head. It’s not because I’m ashamed of you.”

Your eye twitches like it always does when you’re confused. He fucking adores it.

“You’re stubborn, and loud, and probably too honest for your own good. You’re…vulgar, and brilliant and you drive me fucking insane and you’re too goddamn good for my parents. They wouldn’t know what to do with you, I don’t know what to do with you but I’m so fucking thankful you’re letting me figure it out. I just want to keep you to myself so I can woo you long enough to not run away when you do meet them.”

Your bottom lip trembles. You’re thankful he doesn’t point out the quiver in your voice when you finally speak up.

“I’m not that stubborn.”

His smile is golden. You let him drag you into him as he presses his lips against yours. You want to savor it and keep him there forever but you can’t stop his hand moving from your chin and grabbing at your hair as he pulls your head back so he can he trail sweet pecks against your cheek and down your neck.

“Whatever you say Sugar.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tiny little angsty blurb for you guys<3

[cherry-smokes]

I Want You So Bad

AKA the time you got tired of waiting. Based off of I Want You So Bad by Heart. Pairing: Steve Harrington x bassist!reader Word count: 1.5K Warnings: Sugar is uncharacteristically soft for a man.

Two dates. You've been on two dates with Steve and he's been perfect.

On your first one he took out to dinner. A fancy restaurant that you would never take yourself to. Steve insisted you order whatever you want, when you blushed at the price he just brushed you off.

"Steve this is...very expensive."

"You deserve expensive."

You learned a lot about Steve across the fancy table cloth. He's witty, he doesn't flinch when you bite back at a quip. Which you found undeniably attractive. Excluding Buckley, one of his closest friends is a high-schooler, Dustin, who you've heard about through Eddie. He calls him a dork, and a nuisance. The way he smiles when talking about how 'annoying' it was when Dustin and his friends would make him sneak them into the theater lets you know he loves the kid. When you ask about his parents he dodges the question. You don't press, but you can only assume he isn't close with them. You find yourself sad when he asks about you, just because you want to know so much more about him. You want to know what his favorite songs are, what side of the bed he sleeps on, how he takes his coffee, what he was scared of as a child. You want to know exactly how many moles he has and what his hair would feel like if you were to run your hands through it.

He said all the right things. Asked the prefect questions and clung to every word you said. Opened every door for you, he even let you pick what tape you wanted to listen to in the car! Then, he walked you to your door, and kissed you on the cheek. Which was sweet! At the time you assumed it meant he wasn't just looking for a hookup.

Then the second date came around. You walked around town, and went to the record store. You shared headphones in the listening booth. He listened to your favorite albums, never said an ill word about them even though you could tell he wasn't particularly enjoying Metallica. He even bought a Zeppelin tape to play in the car for you. Afterwards, he drove you home, walked you to your door with an arm around your waist, and he kissed you. On your cheek. Again.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't starting to feel frustrated. After he left, you freaked out for about an hour. It made you feel silly, and ridiculous because it’s just not something you do! You’ve never let yourself lose sleep over a guy. Then again you’ve never liked someone the way you like Steve.

He's sending every signal that he's into you, but why won't he just kiss you? Steve doesn't have the reputation of a guy who takes things slow. It’s hypocritical of you. You know better than to base his actions off of who he used to be. Yet, there’s this ridiculous part of you that likes him so much you can’t help but overthink every single move he makes, or doesn’t make. Was he not as into you as you thought? Maybe he wasn't looking for a relationship? Maybe he's just a really...attentive friend?

You plagued yourself with doubts until he called you up and asked you if you wanted to go see a movie. You said yes, obviously. How else are you supposed to figure out if he’s trying to be more than friendly with you?

So now you're standing in front of your mirror wondering if you should wear jeans or a skirt. You hate that the question of what he would like most even crosses your mind.

When he knocks at your door you almost trip over your feet as you rush to open it and you have to take a moment to get your shit together.

Your hands shake as you grab the handle and open the door.

The cold autumn air hits your face as you swing it open. It works in your favor as it cools your flushed face when you see Steve. His hair looks as perfect as always. His sweater wraps around his arms in a way that makes you feel warm inside. You feel jealous of it as you wish you could wrap yourself around them like it does. Worst of all he smiles at you, and seems so genuinely happy to see you. Friends don’t do that right?

“Hey.”

You gasp for air. “Hi!”

This is ridiculous. You sound more excited than you’d like to. Any air of mystery you wanted to keep is gone.

“Uh- let me just grab my shoes I’ll be out in a second.”

“Take your time, I’m in no rush.”

You quickly lace up your boots. The door stays open and you try not to fumble over your laces as you feel Steve’s gaze on you. When you stumble onto your feet and walk out towards him, he lays his hand on the small of your back as you lock your door.

You try to ignore the shiver that crawls up your spine but it’s impossible when you can feel his warmth pressed against you and the smell of his shampoo reaching your nose. Even the hairspray isn’t enough to turn you off, everything about him is intoxicating. Dizzying. He makes you feel so foggy it’s embarrassing.

“This is a really nice sweater.”

His hand dips to the hem, he fiddles with it as he speaks. “It’s soft.”

You turn your face him, he doesn’t move his hand.

“Thanks.”

His lips quirk up as he tugs at your sweater to guide you to the car.

You’re so fucked.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He insisted he didn't mind sharing a straw, and put his arm around your shoulder. He leaned in and whispered soft jokes and comments about the movie in your ear and you felt his arm tense up when you giggled at his words. An attentive friend doesn't do that.

A friend doesn't tell you he doesn't want you to go home yet. He doesn't play Heart in the car while he drives you both to lovers lake. He sure as hell doesn't look at you like that when you're talking.

“What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

You give him a disbelieving look. “You’re looking at me weird.”

“I’m just looking at you. Nothing weird about it.”

You lean against the headrest facing him. You smile at him like you did when you first met him. Hoping to make him blush the way he did then. “You’re looking at me like you like me or something.”

“I do like you…or something”

His words are quiet. If you weren’t listening so intently you might have missed them as they flew under the music from the radio. His car is warm, the heat is on and you can still smell popcorn on him. He’s so close but not close enough and the way the moonlight hits his face makes you desperate to touch him.

“Then why haven’t you kissed me?”

There it is. It’s too dark to see him blush, but you see the way his shoulders tense. He looks down and cowers into himself. He’s so curious to you. He can be so sure of himself, so cocky. He’ll grab at your clothes and whisper sweet nothings to you in the dark of a theater. Yet, the moment you force him out of that shell he turns so shy.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He chuckles and you see his fingers start to fidget against his steering wheel.

“I just- I wanted to earn it I guess.”

“I think you earned it the moment you called me sweet Steve.”

He looks up at you then. His fingers tense around the steering wheel again and his gaze gets so intense you hold your breath. It must have been seconds but it feels like ages when he leans in. He hovers, and you can feel his eyelashes kissing your cheeks.

Suddenly. You feel like yourself again, and you reach your hand up to the back of his head. His hair feels just as soft as you imagined it between your fingers as you pull him in. His lips are soft against yours and you feel him gasp slightly as you press against him. His hand finally leaves the wheel and lands on your thigh. It sends sparks through you as he digs his fingers into the flesh there. Not intrusive or invasive, almost like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

You never believed people when they said they felt fireworks when they kissed. You don’t now. Kissing Steve is tender. It feels more like a bonfire after you’ve been in the snow too long. It envelops you like a weighted blanket and you curse whatever power created you to need oxygen to survive when you have to pull away for air.

His hand travels up to cover yours behind his head. He holds it there, like he’s scared you’ll pull away.

“Have I earned another one yet?”

Friends definitely don’t ask that.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

a/n: Sugar and Steve are so back. This was shorter than I wanted it to be but I’ll have my asks open for anyone who wants to send in requests or questions. I’m so thankful for everyone who shared their support for my last post! This is a project I want to continue and expand and I would love to hear from y’all:)

the images used are from Pinterest once again!

[cherry-smokes]

Sugar Me

AKA the time you meet Steve at one of your gigs loosely based on Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard Pairing: Steve Harrington x bassist!reader best friend!Eddie x bassist!reader Word count: 3k Note: reader goes by Sugar and uses she/her pronouns Warning: Sugar is a flirt:)

Sometimes you think you would be the most miserable person on earth had you not been in your 20’s in the 80’s. Rock and roll is alive and well and as Eddie likes to scream when he’s four beers in, it will never die!

Meeting him was one of the greatest gifts you were granted. Despite what the rest of Hawkins thinks, he’s the greatest guy you know. The rock scene was supposed to be all about going against the grain. Expressing yourself and indulging in things most people are too scared to indulge in because of what others might think. Despite this, it’s still infested with misogyny. Especially in a place like Hawkins.

Getting people to take any of your interests seriously as a woman is damn near impossible. Not with Eddie though. When he asked you to join Corroded Coffin you didn’t think twice. Eddie trusted you. He appreciated your talent and you knew going into it that you wouldn’t just be eye candy to draw in a crowd as the only chick in the band. To Eddie, how you dressed or how you presented yourself on or off stage didn't mean anything. As soon as you got that Bass in your hands, that's all that mattered to him.

Before you met him, finding your place in Hawkins had been frustrating. You'd tried other bands but they just never worked out. When guys in bands are raunchy and bold they're praised. For them it's a badge of honor. God forbid a woman dresses in the same skin-tight clothes and flirts, now that would just be down right slutty right?

Thankfully for you, the guys in the band don't share this sentiment. However they do have their moments. They're just guys after all.

When Eddie mentioned he’d invited his friends to your gig tonight you were a bit surprised. You’ve never been one to judge a book by its cover, but from your brief knowledge of Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington the last place you expected him to want to be on a Friday night is a dive bar at the edge of town.

You’ve heard Eddie’s Hail Mary about how-

“He’s a changed man Sugar, swear it!”

You believe him, really! If Eddie told you the sky was red you’d believe him too. Despite whatever bulletin board conspiracy your band mates have drawn up you aren’t fucking Eddie. He’s your best friend, frankly you’re still waiting for the day people can comprehend that a guy and a girl can be friends without secretly wanting to make out and elope in Vegas.

Steve Harrington however, was not a man you could be ‘just friends’ with.

The second he walks into the bar trailing behind a girl with mousy blonde hair and a chic vest you pause mid sip, beer instantly forgotten. No one is allowed to look that good in a Polo. Don’t even mention the hair-the hair! It’s a waste he isn’t in a glam rock band, blasphemous even.

He looks out of place in the bar. He shakes all the guy’s hands following it with a pat on the arm similar to how a Wall Street guy would greet his coworkers.

“Stevie, Buckley. This is the one and only Sugar!”

He introduces you in that tone he tends to use during a campaign. You lean across the table as Robin sits down to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Eddie never shuts up about you.”

“How could he?”

You tease as you scooch your chair to make space for Steve to drag one over to your table. He sits down, holding his hand out to shake yours “Nice to meet you I’m St-“

“Stevie right?”

You cut him off with a firm hand shake and a curl of your red lips. Similar to his cheeks as he nods in agreement.

This is just going to be so fun. You've heard rumors about how much of a playboy he was back in high school. However, considering that he spends most of his time babysitting kids and according to Eddie ‘striking out’ you have a feeling that isn’t the case anymore.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger over the lipstick stain on your cup, or the way your leopard print pants stretch over your thighs.

“This your first show?”

He looks back at you, wiping his palms down his jeans. He looks all American. Like he came straight out of a Bruce Springsteen song.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well, I’ll make sure it’s extra special for you tonight.”

“You’ve only known the guy two seconds why are you giving him special treatment Sugar, I thought I was your main man?”

Eddie says this as he kicks your leg underneath the table.

“When you look like that you get special treatment, I don’t make the rules.”

You take a sip of your beer, glancing at Steve over the glass.

“Alright Casanova finish your beer we gotta get up there soon.”

You raise one arm in surrender as you chug what’s left and go to stand up. Making sure to lightly drag your arm behind Steve’s chair as you start walking to the stage. You turn to Robin before leaving, “killer vest by the way.”

You know Eddie is just teasing. This is just who you are, and you really get a kick out of seeing how many buttons you can push. How pretty and pink you can make a guy. According to the flush that spread over Steve's face, pretty damn pink.

It's just fun. You get the feeling Steve tends to go more for the 'girl next door' type and you've never been one to get your hopes up. Hawkins hasn't necessarily been kind to people like you. Guy's were never really that into you in your early teens. When they were, it was because they assumed you were an easy lay. You can imagine their disappointment when your idea of a perfect first date wasn't hooking up in the back of their dad's cars or under the bleachers.

It's fine though. Guys are much more fun when you can flirt them up at the bar and never see them again. It keeps your schedule free for rehearsals anyways.

You find yourself lost in this thought as you set up on stage. Glancing over at the bar you see Steve and Robin bickering quietly. He holds a beer out of her reach as she yanks at his hair before snatching it out of his hands. You can't help but see a resemblance between them and you and Eddie.

As if he knows what you're thinking he comes up behind you, guitar in hand as poke's at your side.

"Ready to rock and roll?"

"You sound like a dad when you say that."

"I thought you liked that kind of thing?"

You shove him harshly but can't help the laugh that comes out of you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Steve swears this is heaven.

Yeah it’s hot in the bar, and it reeks of beer and sweat and he’s being jostled around like a punching bag but god it’s worth it when he sees you on stage.

Baby hairs stick to your forehead, sweaty and glistening. Your black top clings to your body and he feels like an asshole for staring at your legs in those pants. The real kicker is your hands. The way you pluck at the base effortlessly as if they’re gliding on air.

He flinches as the band finishes up the song and Robin hollers right beside him.

“They’re good! Not that I didn’t think they’d be good, I totally believed Eddie when he said they were but they’re like-actually good!”

Steve holds back a chuckle, Robin is a light weight but he’s glad she’s a happy drunk.

“Yeah, they’re killer.”

Eddie speaks up breathlessly from stage.

“Alright everyone, for our last song of the night let me draw your attention to our very own Sugar for a very special cover.”

He dramatically gestures over to you and bows down as you step up to your own mic, which you’ve been neglecting for most of the night.

The crowd hollers for a moment before cooling down. It’s hypnotic, the way you command a room just with your presence. As if you could make everyone buckle at their knees with just a breath.

“Step inside

Walk this way

You and me babe

Hey hey!”

The crowd roars at the familiar favorite. Steve’s never been one for rock music, but he can’t help but bob his head to the beat alongside Robin. He thinks he’d listen to every goddamn song ever created if it was coming out of your mouth.

You pull your hair back in your hands as you tap your leg rhythmically, seductively eying the crowd. Your bass hangs low by your waist and sways slightly. It’s obscene, everything is obscene when you look like that.

“I'm hot, sticky sweet

From my head to my feet, yeah”

It’s like you know what you’re doing. There’s a confidence that spills from you and he’s down like a dog. He feels like you could stomp his heart out with your black boots and he’d polish the blood off them with the shirt off his back afterwards.

Fuck he’s pathetic.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The feeling right after finishing a set is always the best. You're all giddy, high off the adrenaline and slightly cocky. You could perform in front of just three people and you would all still feel like hot shit.

"That was awesome!"

Robin breaks through the crowd with Steve trailing behind her, promptly apologizing to the men she's shoving aside. The way she walks through the larger and gruff looking men as if it doesn't phase her amuses you. From what you've heard about Robin through Eddie, you've grown to admire her from afar. While you've always been too shy to admit it, you've been dying to meet her. You love your guys but you often find yourself desperately yearning for someone who you could connect with on a deeper level. You've known Robin to be deeply feminist. You've read some of the Zine's she makes alongside Nancy Wheeler, fighting against the patriarchy and the typical conservative views in Hawkins. You're aching to collaborate with them on one.

Which is why you immediately agree to her request to buy you a beer.

As she drags you over to the bar, Steve stays back with the group. Shooting a longing glance at you as you walk away as if he had something he wanted to say to you.

"Harrington strikes out once again."

Steve's head whips towards Eddie.

He starts fumbling over his words immediately. He knows from past conversations that you and Eddie have only ever been just friends. He has also, much to his dismay at first, grown to care for Eddie and their friendship. He wouldn't want to cross a line in trying to get to know you in a more than friendly way.

"I'm not striking out-I'm not even in the game."

The guys all burst out in boyish laughter, making Steve roll his eyes.

"Dude. You were practically drooling the entire set."

Gareth says this before mimicking Steves' starstruck face he saw in the crowd.

"It was hot in there!"

"Oh yeah, I bet it was."

Jeff and Gareth leave to get beers of their own which leaves Eddie and Steve.

After a moment Steve speaks up.

"Look man, I'm not going to try anything I know you guys are close I don't want-"

Eddie cuts him off.

"Steve. You gotta know that doesn't bug me right? If you decide you want to actually get in the game I won't stop you."

He leans in close, and in his most theatrical voice whispers "but know this, it isn't a game for the weak."

He loudly slaps his hands on Steve's shoulders before hollering over his shoulder.

"Buckley! How about a game of pool?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Your head whips over to find Eddie ready to drag Robin away for a game of pool. You would be disappointed, but you've already made plans with Robin to hang out sometime this week, and Steve is already walking over to you.

"Hey stranger, can I buy you a drink?"

He chuckles softly as he sits on the stool that used to belong to Robin. Who is loudly arguing over the rules with Eddie behind him.

"I'm pretty sure its supposed to be the other way around."

"Say's who?"

You both look at each other then. For the first time tonight you're able to really take him in. He has the prettiest eyes you've ever seen. Light brown, the way the lights in the bar reflect in them makes it seem like there's specs of gold in them. More than anything though, they look kind. It stirs something up within you. A feeling you so often try to push down. Then he smiles at you and you have to look away before you let the feeling come up any further.

You wave the bartender down and order a beer for Steve. Who nods in thanks before facing his body towards you.

"You were pretty amazing up there."

"I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"Is that why they call you Sugar?"

You furrow your brows at him, not exactly sure what he means.

"The song?"

You go slightly red, embarrassed that you didn't catch onto what he meant. You feel silly. Guy's don't usually make you feel this way. They don't make your mind fog up. You feel tense, like you're hyper aware of how you're sitting and breathing and wondering if he can tell how fast your heart is beating.

"Oh! Right the song!"

He laughs at your response finding it endearing. He sees a slight crack in the persona you've put up all night. He wants to break it open and get to know who you are when you aren't on stage. He wants to know what kind of person you are alone, when everyone has gone and you're unwinding for the night.

"No the song worked its way into the set list later on but Eddie started calling me Sugar because he thinks it's ironic."

"Why would it be ironic?"

You laugh at this before you catch the look on his face and realize he's being serious.

"Well...I've been known to be a bit...blunt I guess."

He nods in understanding. He thinks this is his shot. If he can prove to you now that he's a worthy competitor in whatever game Eddie was talking about he might have a chance.

He gets the sense that you won't just agree to going out with him. He knows his reputation, knows the kind of person he was before. He thinks about it for a moment and wonders if he should dust off his old tactics but, that just doesn't feel right. He figures he should just be honest. Even if it makes him seem like a total dork in front of you.

"I thought they called you Sugar 'cause you're sweet."

He mumbles this and hides behind his beer as he takes a sip. You still heard him though. His compliment is corny, it resembles that of a dad joke and if he didn't seem so earnest about it you would have rolled your eyes.

But he's blushing and his eyes keep bouncing to your face to see your reaction and you can't help but send him a sweet smile. Not a flirty one, or a teasing one. A genuine smile that means he said something right.

"You think I'm sweet?"

You're indulging yourself. You've been called hot before. Sexy, confident. These compliments are nice sure, but nothing compares to the feeling of someone complimenting the way you are.

"Yeah, I mean Eddie talks about you all the time. Even from what I saw tonight, you just...you seem like a really warm person."

He can't remember the last time he was so nervous. He's sure he sounds like an idiot.

One look at your face and he stops worrying about all of it. He wishes he could have met you sooner. He thinks he could have avoided becoming such an asshole had you been around to not make him feel like an idiot for being so soft.

"Well aren't you a sweetheart Stevie."

He lets out a relieved breath, it sounds like a laugh.

"I don't know about that."

"Don't be so humble, I doubt I'm the first girl to tell you that."

"I hope you're the first girl who means it"

You realize now exactly what Eddie meant when he said Steve was a changed man. You've trained yourself to see men as one thing. Someone who doesn’t listen, doesn’t care, and doesn't feel anything other than lust and pride. When Steve says this, you realize he isn't the same guy he used to be. He's someone, who like you, wants to be seen.

God do you see him.

"If Eddie talks about me as much as you say he does, you should know I never lie."

"I'll take your word for it."

He lifts his cup to yours. You clink them together before taking a sip. Behind him, Robin gives out a triumphant yell as she scores a point.

"Do you wanna go watch them play?"

You don't want to, but you ask anyway. There is something at the back of your head telling you to look for an out. To walk away before you're in too deep.

Steve doesn't even glance behind him as he places his drink down and makes himself comfortable.

"I doubt I'm missing much."

You smile at him once more.

Later, when you're all leaving the bar. Steve, who barely nursed his one beer walks Robin to his car and glances over at you as you load your equipment into the back of Eddie's van.

Robin waves hastily at you "See you soon!"

You laugh and wave back before hopping into the passenger seat.

When you're all settled in Eddie speaks up.

"Sugar and Stevie sitting in a tree..."

"Shut up."

As he drives you home, you can't help but think that you wouldn't mind k-i-s-s-i-n-g in a tree with the sweet boy.

────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────────────

a/n: this was so much fun to write! If anyone would want to read more about Sugar and Steve let me know, I would love to make this an on-going series if y'all are interested:)

(also! all of the images used here are from Pinterest!)

[cherry-smokes]

Winnebago

You and Steve are desperately pining over each other, all it takes is a near death experience and some eavesdropping to finally do something about it before it's too late. Steve Harrington x reader hurt/comfort Warnings: talks of blood, yearning and also this is my first blurb so proceed with caution.

Gruesome. Gnarly. Wrong. Just so wrong. Words flash through your mind, harsh and biting unlike your gentle hands as you tend to his wounds. It’s just not fair.

Steve, the most gentle man you know, shouldn’t have been torn to shreds by those things. You swear you could see the light flowing out of him along with his blood as you wrapped whatever shred of clothing it was that Nancy handed you around his waist.

You figure you should thank her for that. For her help. For granting you all the god given gift that is her mind. You swear you would if you could bear to look at her without feeling sick. It feels so ridiculous to be caught up with unrequited love in times like these. You've never felt more like a teenage girl in your life. When you aren't worried about keeping the gaggle of children you've essentially adopted at this point alive you're worried about Steve being dragged into what you can only consider the pits of hell. It's never ending. First it's the tunnels, then the Russians and now the fucking bats. He doesn't deserve that, he deserves the Winnebago.

The six kids, all probably with the same head of hair and freckles that mirror his. Warm soft eyes, that killer smile. You shouldn't have eavesdropped on his conversation with Nancy, you know that. As you cradled Max's head on your shoulder, ignoring the way her headphones dug into the bone there, you couldn't help but tune out Kate Bush and listen to what they said.

"Except for the six kids part- that sounds like...a total nightmare"

"If only I had some practice"

"I'm sure...it would be easier with some help."

Too caught up in trying to figure out if the sharp stinging pain you felt was coming from your stomach, chest or throat, you missed the way Steve glanced at you through the rear view mirror.

You miss the way he looks at you now. The RV is empty, everyone has retreated outside to prepare themselves for battle. Children all forced into a colosseum of horrors they should have never had to endure. For a moment, he doesn't think about that. He thinks about you. Your gentle hands. You've always been that way with him. He fears every day that he takes it for granted. He wasn't used to gentleness. Not from his father, not from his peers, not even from Nancy.

He looks at your hands, bloody and cracked. He thinks it's unfair. It's cruel that those hands that have only ever given out care and provided warmth have to be exposed to anything other than that. He thinks he would reach into the sun, melt his hands to the bone if it meant he could give you an ounce of its warmth.

"How is that, is it too tight?"

You gently lay your hands around the bandages you've wrapped around him as you ask the question, avoiding his gaze.

Steve shakes his head, soft strands of hair falling onto his face.

"No...that's good. It's a lot better than before, thank you"

He looks at your face as you start picking up the remnants of your care. Bloodied gauze pads you struggle to keep in your hands as they shake. He can't help but reach out for them.

"Hey, what is it-what's wrong?"

You finally look at him. His heart aches a terrible thing as he sees the glassy look in your eyes.

Your voice is soft, if he wasn't so close he probably wouldn't even hear you as you whisper.

"You scared me so bad."

You sound like a child when you say it. Unable to find more complex words to describe how you felt when all you could hear as you ran to him was screaming. When you saw him overwhelmed by those viscous, ravenous creatures.

Steve's hands move desperately to your face. Trying to wipe any ounce of distress away from it like he can't bear to see you look so sad a second longer.

"I know-I know I'm sorry. I'm okay, I'm here right?"

"I just-" Your words get caught in your throat. They come out thick with emotion and Steve's brows furrow together like his in pain. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the way it makes your chest shake.

"I have this horrible feeling...that we aren't going to be as lucky this time"

"Don't- Don't say that."

Your hands reach up to cradle his own on your face. You try to burn the feeling of him into your memory. Just in case this is the last time you'll be able to feel them. Just in case you're about to ruin everything. You pull his hands away and hold them out in front of you, taking his face in. Bloody, grimy and bruised yet he looks just as beautiful as he always does.

"I heard what you said to Nancy earlier."

His heart sinks a little bit. He isn't sure why. He can't tell if he's embarrassed that you heard it, that you might think it's some stupid pipe dream you would never want any part of. Worse, he thinks about you wanting that. Wanting it with him, and something horrible happening that would tear that possibility away.

"Oh."

"I think if anyone deserves that Winnebago, the road trip...the family. I think it's you. Anyone would be lucky to get that with you."

There's that warmth again. Spreading across his chest and up to his cheeks as he flushes. He opens his mouth, he begs his brain to come up with anything to say but he can't. Not when the sun is setting behind you and he swears the way the light shines into the RV makes you look like an angel.

"I know...that you want that with someone. And I'm so sorry if this just ruins everything and you can't ever look at me the same after this but...I don't want to die-"

"I'm not going to let that happen-"

He doesn't just mean something happening to you. He wouldn't let anything ruin you two. Steve thinks he would wallow in pain and misery forever as long as he got to keep you. He wishes he had words to explain that to you, wishes he had been better in English so he could formulate poems and novels about how he feels about you.

"What if we can't stop it? I wouldn't be at peace if you didn't know. If something happens to me-and if there is a 'better place' out there...I hope I wake up in a Winnebago. On the shore somewhere sunny and warm. I hope you're there...and I hope you're surrounded by kids that look just like us."

He grabs desperately at your face. One of his hands reaching up to brush your hair out of your face.

"Why can't we have that in this life?"

You swear you can hear your heart pounding in your ears. You can feel the blood rushing through your veins and even so close to the possibility of death you've never felt more alive.

"Is that what you want?"

"Angel that's all I want"

You kiss his palms as he rests his forehead against yours. You pray to whatever force is out there that you have done enough good in this life to be granted a moment of peace in the sun when this is all over.