#Steve Harrington can sing dammit

[wuttttttttttt]

GET OUT OF MY HEAD I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS!!!

no but seriously every time I read about him singing poorly or off key in a fic I’m so confused! We all heard him sing like dorky lil songbird in S1! He has a great voice! Let Dteve be a good singer ITS CANON!

I am a firm believer that Steve can sing. Joe Keery can, and therefore Steve can.

Thing is, Steve doesn’t really know how well he can sing. He’s not a musician, he’s not singing frequently around others. He’s singing in the shower and in his car and occasionally singing under his breath when a song is really stuck in his head and he just needs it out.

So he’s doing his thing, cooking for the party or getting them snacks for dnd or smth, and he starts singing along to whatever songs on the radio.

He’s not really aware of anyone watching him, the party being caught up in their own conversations a moment before. It’s not until the song ends and the radio host starts speaking that he realizes everyone has gone silent.

He wanders out of the kitchen to see everybody staring at him.

Steve Harrington has the voice of an Angel, and now everybody knows. Robin is incredibly peeved she didn’t know this - she’s only ever heard him sing poorly as a Tammy Thompson impersonation - and demands an explanation, Eddie has just fallen in love, Nancy is the only one who’s not confused because she’s heard him sing before.

[steddieas-shegoes]

pop goes metal

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'alternate universe'

rated t | 964 words | cw: language | tags: famous corroded coffin, pop star steve harrington, flirting, getting together

🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

"No fuckin' way are we working with him," Eddie argues with their manager. "You're always so worried about our image and then you go and have us doing a song with a fuckin' pop artist?"

The manager, Anthony, rolls his eyes. "It'll broaden your fanbase. You know who spends money on shit? Women. You know who likes Steve Harrington? Women."

"Does he even write his own shit?" Gareth asks.

"Does it matter?" Eddie turned to him with a glare. "Even if he writes it, it's not our style."

"Maybe we could at least hear what he's trying to work with us on?" Jeff, always the calming presence, asked towards Anthony.

"He sent over a sample before we sign any agreements."

Eddie sat down in the chair furthest from everyone else, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Now, this isn't an official recording. Just what he did on his phone on his tour bus with his acoustic guitar. He arranged the bass already for Frankie, too, but said he's open to whatever Gareth feels is right for the drums." Anthony pressed play on his phone and the room was filled with strumming and a surprisingly raspy voice singing what was clearly a chorus.

Eddie could pretend he hated it, and maybe the guys would agree with him and they'd never have to speak of this again.

He couldn't hide his reaction fast enough, though.

His jaw dropped as he listened to the lyrics, surprised to find that they weren't just about going to a club and dancing or being in love.

Steve's voice broke at the end before there was shuffling and the recording stopped.

Eddie felt everyone's eyes on him. He closed his mouth and looked down at the floor, tapping his fingers against his arm.

"It's not bad," he finally said. "Not sure why he needs us, though."

"Apparently, his brother is a huge fan of you and suggested he try to work with you."

"I think we should do it." Jeff said, a note of finality in his tone that Eddie knew he wouldn't try arguing with.

"Yeah, can't hurt." Frankie shrugged.

"If he's giving me creative freedom on the drums, how can I say no?" Gareth smirked.

"Guess we're working with the pop diva, then."

****

Steve Harrington was nothing like what they expected.

He showed up to their studio in sweats and glasses, holding a tablet and a bottle of Tylenol. They started to introduce themselves as he found a spot on the couch.

"I'm really glad you guys were willing to work with me," he said after he shook everyone's hand.

Eddie stared.

"My uh, my brother, Dustin, he's kinda why I wrote this song and I know it means a lot that you agreed to be on it," Steve continued. "So, thanks. Hopefully it doesn't ruin your vibes or anything."

Eddie felt every wall he built crumbling with every word Steve spoke. God dammit, this man just had to be sincere and hot and talented, didn't he?

"Nah, we're gonna sound great together." Eddie smiled at Steve's wide-eyed look. "You wanna show us the whole song?"

Steve nodded, pulling something up on his phone. Another recording, this one more professional and included an electric guitar.

"Robin was the stand in for the electric while I did bass."

"So you can play bass?" Frankie asked, leaning in.

"Yeah, but my preferred instrument is piano. I just don't do a lot of slow songs. Guitar is what gets the women interested, or so they tell me," Steve smiled awkwardly. "But feel free to change some things up. I'm totally open to suggestions."

But really, it was damn near perfect as it was. Frankie made one tweak during the bridge, but Steve ended up loving it more than the original and told him so with a grin.

"You're a fuckin' genius!" He exclaimed.

Gareth started messing around on the drums while Steve and Eddie worked on the first couple of lines.

"Something still doesn't feel right," Steve mentioned.

"Maybe we change the rhyming pattern?" Eddie suggested. "You've got ABAB. Might work better to do AABB. Some of these words can be moved around to make that work."

Steve stared at the notes app for a moment, then looked back up at Eddie, beaming smile making his eyes squint.

"I could kiss you!" He shouted. As soon as he realized what he said, he blushed, looking back down at the phone. "I mean, thanks. That's a great suggestion."

Eddie searched Steve's face, coming to the conclusion that there was probably a good reason why Steve didn't care about what women liked when it came to his music.

"I have a pretty strict rule about kissing people I work with," Eddie said slowly, quietly so they wouldn't be overheard.

"Yeah, no, that makes sense. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or-"

"But we won't be working with each other for long, right?" Eddie continued, letting his hand rest on Steve's thigh. God, he was muscular.

"Um. No I guess not."

"Rain check, then. Until we've finished our professional relationship." Eddie couldn't believe he was suggesting this. Showing interest in a pop star. What's next? Dating one? Marrying one?

"Are you saying you wanna kiss me, Munson?" Steve suddenly sounded more confident.

"I'm saying we've got work to do before I can get my hands on you." Eddie tapped his thigh before pulling away. "So let's get to it."

"Dude! I got it!" Gareth yelled, interrupting their moment.

"Be right there!" Steve yelled back, not looking away from Eddie. "Might break a record for fastest recording time ever just so I can kiss you," Steve added quietly to Eddie before standing and walking over to Gareth.

"Well, fuck." Eddie sighed, smiling to himself.

[little-annie]

There's what feels like thirty t-shirts on the floor of Steve's room, all piled in a discarded heap along with several pairs of jeans and a single pair of– how the hell do I even own those– short shorts that Robin's tried multiple times to convince him to wear, if not only for her own entertainment.

The conniving bitch.

He thinks he might burn them next time they have a bonfire.

On his bed, with a gaudy, bucket hat unearthed from the floor of his closet precariously plopped on her head, legs crossed and chin pillowed on the boney knuckles of a closed fist, Robin's eyes look him up and down once again.

Judging, assessing, determining whether or not he can pass for anything other than fresh meat at Eddie's show tonight.

So far, his chances seem slim.

No matter the outfit, he feels too soft, too preppy, too Steve. Which according to Robin isn't a bad thing because, “Well Dingus, that is who Eddie invited. Imagine his disappointment when someone other than Steve Harrington shows up.”

But still, even in a pair of Levis and a plain black t-shirt, he feels too much himself.

Through the disparaging look Steve gives himself in the mirror leant against the wall, he hears Robin's sigh from behind him and then not a moment later, feels the icy sting of her hands grasping his shoulders and giving a reassuring squeeze.

“Babe,” she starts, digging her nails into his arms to gain his attention in the reflection of the mirror. “Eddie likes you. He invited you. He wants you to be there to watch him on that stage.”

“I know. But I feel… I dunno. Boring.”

With a sharp snap in the air, the back of Robin's hand meets Steve's arm in a painful smack.

“Ouch, Rob!”

“Don't say that about my best friend,” she glares from behind him, reaching forward over his shoulder to take his chin in hand, fingers digging into his cheeks, squishing them in and smooshing his lips forward, making him face their reflection in the mirror. “You are not boring.” She emphasises with a gentle shake of Steve's head. “You are smart and funny and kind. You're a reformed rich kid, with a lesbian best friend and a teaching degree, who moulds the minds of our future on a daily basis. You have passions and loves and a beautiful mind. And god dammit, you deserve good things Steve Harrington.”

He hates how Robin's simple words bring just the faintest of a sting to his eyes. He can't cry over that. God. He attempts to smile at her a little sadly in the mirror. She's the only one who's ever told him those things and for years, has insisted upon them.

His tried smile remains smooshed through Robin's still present grasp on his face. Fuck, he loves her and he attempts to tell her as much. “I wuv oo.”

She fakes a gag over his shoulder where Steve reaches back and squishes her face the same as she's still doing to him, making her say the words back in the same fashion he was forced to.

Robin rolls her eyes.

They look like a pair of idiots in the mirror's reflection.

“Wuv oo too.”

Continue reading here ⤵️

[flowercrowngods]

nice to meet you, where you been? (steddie tattoo shop au)

🌷 read part 1 here (or on ao3) | T – 2/3 – 12k 🌷

part 2: started with a spark, now we're on fire (| 4.5k)

Eddie spends the entire way home processing what the fuck just happened. Because there’s no way that what he thinks has happened is what actually, truly happened. He’s in such a tango of dazed and freaking out that he can’t even text Chrissy; every time he pulls out his phone to yell at her, the words kind of escape him. It’s frustrating. 

What’s even more frustrating is that he has Blank Space stuck in his head. Of all songs, Steve! Of all songs! 

Steve. Damn. That really happened, didn’t it? 

Steve Harrington with the perfect hair and the perfect smile and the perfect lighting in his stupid perfect tattoo parlour that might not be so horrible on second thought. 

Traitor! Eddie curses himself. It is horrible. Just like Steve’s taste in music. 

Nice to meet you, where’ve you been — “Fucking dammit!” 

A woman tuts when she passes him with a delighted looking child in tow, and while she looks royally pissed off, the kid looks up at Eddie with a hint of wonder and excitement. He grins at the kid and does a little wave, but before they can respond, their mother demands their attention again. 

Eddie continues on his way home with a grin on his face that Harrington has nothing to do with. Well, almost nothing, but that’s close enough for Eddie right now.

As if the universe is playing a cosmic joke on him, he opens the door to the apartment he shares with Chrissy only to be assaulted with more Taylor Swift. In fact, just when he got rid of Blank Space playing on loop inside his head, he’s hit with that stupidly upbeat song on full volume from Chrissy’s room. 

“Son of a…” he sighs, slamming the door shut to announce his presence. 

The only reaction he gets is Chrissy singing along even louder, and Eddie is in such a good mood that he laughs as he walks over to her room. 

“So it’s gonna be forever!” she sings — shouts, the menace —, lying on her bed, legs up in the air against the wall, head halfway off the mattress. A shit eating grin on her face because she knows Eddie hates this song, knows he hates everything indie and flowery and minimalist and touched with gentle golden light to match his personality— ah fuck. She totally planned this. All of this!

“I hate you!” Eddie exclaims over the music, but Chrissy doesn’t care, hardly even hears him with how loud she’s singing along — or trying, around her smile. “I hate you, Christine!” 

“And you love the game!” 

Her arms are flailing now, and she somehow makes even that look good. Eddie huffs and throws himself onto her bed, his legs against the wall right beside Chrissy’s, though he refuses to move his feet along to the cursed song. 

She takes his hand and keeps singing, the mattress bouncing underneath them, and Eddie soaks up the whole moment. Chrissy is not metal, far from it, but the chaos is unmatched and that Taylor of it all is so worth it. Just don’t tell Chrissy that. 

“So,” she says at last when the song is over and a new one starts, quieter this time, and Eddie doesn’t care enough to know what it is. He’s been around too much indie pop and normal pop music today, it’s enough to last a lifetime. Or at least until the end of the week. “How was your tattoo appointment?” 

“It wasn’t a tattoo appointment, I just wanted to go check out this place you refused to shut up about, Christus.” 

He lifts their joined hands into the air because he loves the feeling of blood rushing down towards his shoulder, his hands growing cold and then flushed with warmth once he lowers his hands again. Chrissy lets him. 

“I hate you, by the way.” 

“Why?” she says, and the grin turns into a look of careful worry. “Was he an ass about it?” 

“Huh? Oh! No, he was… God, he was perfect about it. And ridiculously golden. And pretty. And, Jesus, I hate him for it. Like, how dare he?” 

“How dare he be pretty and kind and accepting and really fucking talented?” 

“Yeah!” Eddie agrees. “How dare he! He’s got all that, and for what? “ He groans and dramatically throws their joined hands onto the bed again in a pathetic excuse of swooning. “Do you know what he said to me, Chris? It’s nice to meet you, Eddie. Like it’s nothing! Like it’s not my whole entire life that he just… God! And his smile? Like, there’s something real about it now. It was gorgeous in high school, I’ll give him that, but now it’s… It’s like. Like an ‘I’ve seen some shit in life but I choose to be kind about it’ kinda smile. Disgusting! Makes me wanna throw up.” 

Chrissy just chuckles and turns properly to face him. “What else?” 

Eddie sighs and turns towards her, too, their knees touching, shoving at each other playfully. “He remembered the name. Corroded Coffin. Said, and I quote, it’s a rad fucking name.” 

“So, obviously, you’re in love now.” 

“Obviously!” he exclaims, followed with another dramatic sigh, throwing his arm across his face to hide his misery from the world. “How dare he?” 

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says, playing with the fingers of the hand thrown across his face. 

“He called me a wild card,” Eddie continues, quieter now, a smile on his lips. “Remembered me from high school and all he had to say is, fucking wild card you were. Not the… The girl stuff. Or the name stuff. Just. Just a wild card. Chrissy. Like somehow, to Steeeve Harrington, it’s all just… Like it’s all just whatever. But in the good way. God, I’m not even making sense. I want to punch him in his stupid face.” 

“With your lips?” 

“And tongue!” 

Chrissy laughs gently and continues to play with Eddie’s hair while he hangs off his thoughts of Steve. It’s still so fucking wild, so fucking unbelievable. Everything about today just leaves Eddie with a feeling he’s not entirely familiar with. It tingles in his arms, in his chest, flutters there for a second before moving to his head, to his thoughts. 

And then he’s thinking about Steve. About taking his hand and making him smile again, about bullying him for his music taste before dancing with him to The 1975 or some shit. 

Steve is probably the kind of person who listens to Sweater Weather unironically. Ridiculous man. 

Eddie can’t wait to see him again.  

~*~

Tuesday can’t arrive quickly enough for Eddie. He’s been extra jittery all week, going on Chrissy’s last nerve and even all those extra ones she reserves only for him. She rolls her eyes with exasperated fondness and kisses his cheek before shoving him into the wall or smushing his face into her, his, their pillows. Eddie just laughs and grumbles and tackles her right back, pretending he stands a chance against his jocky best friend. 

She even lets him win sometimes. That’s how he knows that she knows that he’s got it bad. He makes a mental note to get her some flowers tomorrow, or stock up on her safe foods secretly for her to discover at some point when she won’t pester him about his little crush. 

And it’s not a crush. It’s just that no one will listen to reason — not even the butterflies that seem so insistent to stay inside his stomach and bug him, quite literally, all the way down the street to Steve’s shop. Only now does he read the sign above the door and frowns a little. 

Ink-redible Dingus

Eddie snorts, a bit bewildered, a lot amused, an even lotter really kind of endeared. Silly man. Really hot silly man. Absolutely kind, pretty awesome, totally sweet, kind of golden Really Hot Silly Man. 

Jesus, get a fucking grip, Munson. Incidentally, the grip comes the moment he opens the door and hears another indie pop or whatever-song assaulting his ears. Sounds a lot like The Neighbourhood, and he’s ready to hate crime Chrissy the second he’s out of here for making him even know that shit, let alone recognise it. He wouldn’t put it past her to send Steve her playlist actually, just to torment Eddie. Steve would, he thinks. Oh, he definitely would. 

He huffs, smiling before the door even falls shut behind him, and Steve whirls around from where he was pouring over his iPad. 

“Eddie!” 

Steve sounds surprised. Happy. Excited. But Eddie is a little bit stuck on the surprised part, on the way Steve gets up immediately, his eyes wide, his smile wider, and he briefly considers turning on his heel and leaving the country, because this can only end horribly. He would do unspeakable things if it makes Steve smile at him like this. 

But, apparently, all it takes is for him to actually show up. 

“Don’t tell me you forget about our little—“ Don’t say date! “—appointment, Harrington.” He tuts dramatically, ignoring the way his heart beats inside his throat or the way his own lips are tucking up into a smile before he can stop them. 

Steve comes to a stop in front of him, shoves his hands into his pockets and has the gall to give him a sheepish little look that does not at all quench Eddie’s desire to punch him in the dace with his lips. 

“I didn’t forget,” Steve starts, a bit hesitant in the way he doesn’t really meet Eddie’s eyes. “I was a little worried, actually. That I had somehow, like… Offended you? Said something wrong, I don’t know. I’m very good at that, you know, saying the wrong thing.” 

Eddie stares at him for a second, fully aware that he’s blinking a bit owlishly, but he shall not be blamed, because… Steve can’t be serious. He can’t be serious. Can he be serious? 

“What?” Steve asks after a second of Eddie’s staring, and he blinks out of it quickly, tries to go for nonchalant and runs his hand along the wooden counter instead of reaching for Steve. 

“I hope you’re kidding, Harrington, because it would be pretty idiotic if you weren’t.” He shrugs and then finally looks up, earnestly. “You didn’t say anything wrong, Stevie. In fact, you were kinda perfect, actually.” 

Two seconds is exactly how long it takes Eddie to realise just what exactly he just said, and then there he is, blushing profusely in the most polished tattoo parlour he’s ever set foot in. Twice. 

But Steve is grinning, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle and breathe deeply, like there’s a laugh ready to bubble out of him any second now. It’s almost worth the humiliation of telling him he’s perfect. 

“Glad to hear that, man,” is all he says, but Eddie knows he wants to say more. Wants to tease. It’s written in the dimples on his cheeks, in the line of his shoulders or the way he shoves his hands even deeper into his light blue jeans. Eddie almost wants him to tease. Wants to flirt. Wants to get the feeling that Steve reserves his grin for his eyes only, wants to experience the Harrington Charm just one more time. 

Wants to travel back in time to his teenage self explain to them that he’ll be fine, everything will be fine, and Steve Harrington will flirt with you in his stupid tattoo shop ten years down the line, wearing a silly pair of bright blue jeans and a yellow sweater vest over a white shirt in a way that shouldn’t look good, but he pulls it off somehow. Oh, and there will be a ridiculous amount of soft pop music. Because of course. 

“Anyway, I, uh, I’m glad you came.” Hang on for just one second, is Steve blushing? 

Oh shit, he is blushing. Eddie’s going to faint. Die. Be slain. Lain to rest. Because Steve Harrington is blushing at him. 

“Of course,” Eddie says lamely, and then there’s silence between them for a moment, a heaviness in the air between them that Eddie can’t quite make sense of. Not that he’s particularly trying to make sense of it, not with the way Steve is still blushing, looking anywhere but at him. 

It’s kind of cute. Makes Eddie aware of the picture they’re making: Himself in his black ripped jeans and Metallica shirt, a black denim jacket adorned with patches of really old bands, good old classic metal ones. Steve, on the other hand, the polar opposite of Eddie’s all-black look. He’s preppy, colourful, really fucking bright in a way Eddie can’t quite but his finger on, and his hair once again makes Eddie want to reach out and run his fingers through it. It’s almost golden in the way it catches the light, and Eddie both loves and hates that it wasn’t a lie his brain told him last week, Steve really is golden in this kind of light. 

Disgusting. 

He wants to hold him forever. 

“So, uh,” Steve catches himself at some point, fumbling a bit, and Eddie just watches him for a bit, inclining his head like that will reveal more of Steve to him, like it will make him look up again. 

It does. Eddie’s heart is doing several somersaults at the way Steve falters with a half-smile on his lips. 

“Yeah, uh, what kinda tattoo are we thinking? I don’t mind doing it right now if you have, like, an idea or something, or we could brainstorm and do a few designs? I don’t have another costumer coming up for today, so…” Steve trails off and shrugs, makes it looks so casual and nonchalant that Eddie can’t really believe he’s real. “I’ve got time, is what I’m saying.” 

“Uh,” Eddie says intelligently. They’re both really on their a-game today, huh? But the thing is, Eddie has given this a lot of thought. Just, well, not as many words. “I’m thinking weird. I’m ready to enter my Weird Era.” 

It’s a test, of sorts. Make Steve Harrington be weird, unhinged, see what’s under that golden pastel shimmer. See what hides behind those crinkling eyes. 

Those very same eyes that are now squinting at him. “Is that a Taylor reference? From the one and only Eddie Edward Edwin Munson?” 

“Hey, that’s a hate crime actually.” 

“What, fake-full naming you?” 

“Nah, man, saying I make Taylor references. I’m not a pastel preppy sunshine boy who probably listens to her way too much.” 

Steve shakes his head, hiding one of those smiles that makes his eyes crinkle. Eddie wants more of that. It’s a good look on him. 

Also, are they flirting? It feels a bit like they’re flirting, but maybe they’re both just weird and compatible in it. Either way, it’s a bit of a win. 

“Right, tattoos,” the pastel preppy sunshine boy says before Eddie’s thoughts can travel too far and wax poetic about that smile and sunshine and something something Stevie. “You want it weird?” 

“Let’s make it weird, pretty boy!” 

Steve just cackles before turning around to grab a black binder. Eddie watches with interest, because the last thing a pretty boy should be doing when a weirdo requests weirdness from him is to turn around and grab a binder labelled Upside Down. It’s full of— oh. 

Oh yes. This is the kind of weirdness that Eddie’s talking about! Funky lines all over the place in a way that would make Picasso green in the face with jealousy. Monsters and mushrooms with too many eyes, skulls and anatomically morphed hearts with leaves growing or weird slime flowing out of them. They’re uncanny. Tarot cards with a touch of horror to them. Disintegrating ands holding weirdly detailed, realistic cigarettes. 

Steve Harrington is a Weirdo! 

He is also, most definitely, queer. No straight guy looks like this and draws like that, Eddie decides. 

“Most people bring their own designs, obviously, and not everyone is on the… the supernatural kinda grind, but most of these are actually some wanna-do’s of mine. Kinda itching to eternalise those.” 

Eddie is quiet, staring at the designs, and maybe he’s taking too long without moving on to the next page, maybe he’s too quiet for too long, but Steve seems to take his silence for bewilderment. Confusion. Disgust, probably. Rejection, definitely. 

“We don’t have to do them, it’s, uh, I know they’re weird, it’s totally cool if it’s not your kind of—“

“I need all of these, actually,” Eddie interrupts Steve’s rambles. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie snorts, going back a few pages to the design that caught his eye the most and instantly. “Imagine how I’m feeling here. Steve Harrington, preppy pastel guy, the most normie to ever norm, everyone’s high school sweetheart, is secretly a weirdo. It’s a lot to take in, man.”

Steve snickers and crosses his hands in front of his chest. “So, what, you get to be a weirdo but I can’t?” 

“Got it in one, pretty boy.” God, Eddie really should stop calling him that. But he can’t, not when there both being like this and it’s fine, because Steve might be weird but he’s not weirded out. And Eddie is a bit breathless with it. 

“That’s so homophobic,” Steve grumbles, and, okay, maybe Eddie’s entire world has just stopped. Because… No. No. No way. Steve being secretly weird and Munson-detected queer was one thing, but him admitting to it in Eddie’s face with that adorable little pout while they’re flirting? Boy, oh boy, that is a whole other thing. 

So much so that Eddie drops the binder. But sue him. Holding onto things is a bit overrated when Steve Harrington looks at you with that cheeky grin because he knows what kinda effect he has on you. Because you keep calling him pretty boy. Because he knows. 

Oh shit. 

“Uh.” 

“Yup,” Steve snickers again, crouching down to grab the binder, finding the page Eddie’s been fixated on. “Thought I’d level the playing field a bit, y’know.” 

“Sure,” Eddie says, a bit too loud, too cheerful, a bit too delighted at the expression of absolute glee and mirth and mischief on Steve’s face. Gods, he might be a bit in love. “You’re a weirdo.” 

“It’s about time you catch up, Eds. Can’t associate with the people that I do without being a bit weird.” 

Tell me about your people. Tell me everything. Your entire biography. Their entire biographies. Your thoughts. Your weird, weird design ideas.

They’re approaching dangerous territory of having Eddie put his chin on his hands, kicking his legs and asking Steve all those question with hearts for eyes. But they can’t. He can’t be falling deeper, not yet, not before he got a weird fucking tattoo from the prettiest boy he knows. Even if he has to do it to the tune of some whiny voice from the speakers announcing that ‘This is for Mathilda.’

“So, I’m thinking this one,” he says instead, pointing at the little creature that captivated him from the beginning. 

Steve’s eyes light up in an instant, like they’re wont to do. “Oh, excellent choice. It’s Robbie’s favourite, actually, and she made me promise to tell her the very second it gets claimed. It has a name, too, you know? You’ll never guess, though.” 

Eddie looks away from Steve and down at the… thing. It looks a bit familiar but he can’t quite recall where he’s seen that before. 

“It’s an ofan, or a galgal” Steve explains. “From the book of Ezekiel. An angel, kind of.  Most of those angels dubbed biblically accurate aren’t actually from the Christian bible, y’know? Robbie’s Jewish, so she sometimes makes me draw these things with my own twists. See, they don’t actually have that many eyes, nor are they melting or disintegrating,” Steve chuckles, a bit sheepish, and Eddie’s breath gets stuck in his throat. “If you’re bothered by religious imagery on your body, though, we can find something else for you, it’s no biggie.”

Eddie gives him a bit of A Look before pulling down his shirt to reveal the upside down pentagram adorned with a pretty awesome looking devil with his tongue out. He just barely resist the urge to mirror the devil’s face at Steve like he does every time he reveals this tat to an unsuspecting soul. 

But Steve just grins and nods. 

“And anyway, religion is what you make of it, isn’t it? And if getting that little ofan  buddy tattooed so I an lecture people about how saying ‘biblically accurate angel’ is wrong, then it’s a win for everyone, don’t you think?” 

They talk about the design for a moment, Steve asking if Eddie wants any changes to it, and the only one he has is for there to be more eyes. Steve grins as he edits it on his iPad, showing Eddie as he works. But Eddie is mostly staring at the way Steve’s hair keeps falling into his eyes. It’s adorable. He hates it. 

“Where’d you want it?” 

“I was thinking here,” Eddie says and points at the biceps of his right arm, right where his sleeve ends so the ofan will always peek out. “Do I, uh, do I need to take off my shirt?” 

“Nah, we’ll just tape the sleeve up, no problem.” 

Yeah, he kind of needs to marry this guy and his dignity-saving tape. 

And then that’s how Eddie finds himself sitting rather comfortably in an adjacent room. It’s just as clean, the decor just as minimalistic but horrendously tasteful that Eddie sort of wants to lie down on the floor for a moment. It looks very inviting, dark wood and all. 

Before he can think about how to explain the want for Floor Time because he’s a bit nervous, he’s having his arm shaved while Steve hums along to yet another Taylor song. Eddie wants to throw up. 

“You okay there, Eds?” Steve asks like he knows exactly what his problem is. “You look a little green.” 

“I hate you,” he grumbles, no heat behind it. And Steve, the little shit, miraculously makes the music just a touch louder. “I’m getting a discount for this, I hope you know.” 

Steve laughs and Eddie is pretty sure the next one is actually a gentle touch, even through the gloves. It make his heart flutter. Good choice for his first tattoo, the little buddy has eight mismatched, slowly melting wings, it can do the fluttering when this is over. 

The worst thing is that they keep flirting while Steve inks him, he stops every now and then not only to wipe away ink and blood but also to give Eddie a dead-pan kinda look that Eddie wants to kiss away. Or shove away and tell Steve to focus and not mess up his little angel friend. Steve just huffs. 

At some point, Steve gives him a little squishy ball. A fidget toy, because maybe his nerves were showing more than he noticed, and he already has the apology on the tip of his tongue when Steve says, “Helps me sometimes, I figured you could need it.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie breathes, squishing and relishing at the feel of it. It does kind of help. “Does it have a name you won’t tell me, too?” 

“Nope, only Upside Down tattoos get names.” 

“So you’re saying those other designs have names, too?” 

A shrug, a wipe, a smile. “Maybe.” 

“Weirdo.” 

“Pot, kettle.” 

“Steve,” Eddie gasps, dramatically. “Are you asking me out on a date, Mr Kettle?” 

 “Mr Kettle?” An adorable frown appears between those brows and Eddie really is in the kicking feet, giggling territory now. Shit.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head and keep tattooing me, if you will.” 

“Diva.” 

“Oh, look who’s talking,” Eddie exclaims, utterly delighted, and they both have to take a break then, the flirting a bit too much. Steve laughs, relaxes his hands, and almost shoves him out of the chair, earning another laugh from Eddie. 

“Just so you know, Munson, you’re paying extra! You don’t just cost me time, material and creativity, but also all my fucking nerves. See if I’ll ask you out on that date if you keep that up.” 

Eddie’s breath hitches, but he’s never been one to know when to leave well enough alone — and apparently, neither is Steve. “Is that a challenge, Harrington?” 

A moment passes between them, intense stares getting deeper by the second before Steve sighs and rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, I think it is.” 

Eddie cackles but vows to behave at least so much so that Steve can continue. 

It doesn’t take too long all things considered, 90 minutes and Eddie has a new buddy on his arm. He can’t stop staring at it, really kind of enamoured with Steve’s technique. There are so many details that can only be spotted on second glance, and he can’t wait to see what it looks like when it’s all healed up. But Steve is good. Really, really good. 

And Eddie is crushing. Really, really hard. 

He wants to stay, he really does, especially since Steve’s closing up in half an hour anyway, and there’s nowhere for him to go, nothing for him to do, because Chrissy won’t be home until ten tonight. But the thing is, if he stays any longer, he’ll actually do something stupid like kissing Steve on his stupid lips or asking him on a date. 

He talks big game, but Eddie is a little chicken when it comes to doing the real things. 

So he lets Steve clean him up, apply the fancy transparent film to protect the tattoo and support the healing process. The amounts of times Eddie’s been left with plastic wrap or tinfoil, this feels like genuine luxury. Everything abut Steve’s shop kinda does, but not in the tacky manner. More in the I care about your comfort and have the means to provide it kinda way. Eddie’s learning to appreciate that, actually. 

Steve doesn’t overcharge him in the end. He pays a fair price for his ofan with the secret name and is ready to turn on his heel and run out of here, the bubble of the tattoo room has burst, they’re back to being Steve and Eddie, not pot and kettle. 

But just as he reaches the door, Steve calls for him. 

“Hey, Eds? Do you wanna go out some time?” 

He blinks, swallows. Thinks he’s dreaming. “Yes,” he says. “Yeah, sure.” 

And if they stare at each other for a second too long, smiling, caught in each other’s eyes, well. Then that’s that. 

---

tagging:  @inmoonywetrust @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @vampireinthesun @ajamlessbaby @momotonescreaming @zerokrox-blog @hotluncheddie @saganarojanaolt

🌷 read part 3 here

[corrodedbisexual]

Steve Harrington, for the headcanon ask game: ★☆♡☯ൠ

★ - sad headcanon

There are sooo many sad things about the boy, I struggled to pick something original. Maybe this: "Steve Harrington has bad parents" is such a common tag, but his mom is actually nice. Steve loves her, wishes they were closer, and so does she, but she feels powerless under the influence of Steve's father. They used to be very close when Steve was a child, but drifted apart as his mom kept taking her husband's side in arguments, not wishing to anger him.

☆ - happy headcanon

Steve melts under any kind of praise. The kids tell him the homemade pizza he made was delicious, and wolf it down, as he smiles about it for at least five minutes afterwards. Robin hugs him after he helps her plan a date with Vickie, and tells him he's the best friend ever, and he feels warm and gooey all over. Eddie… Eddie looks at him, just hanging out in his trailer, in a ketchup-stained t-shirt and hair that hasn't seen product today because Eddie doesn't have any, and tells him he's so fucking pretty. And Steve has to press his face into a pillow because it feels like it's going to explode from grinning.

♡ - romantic headcanon

Steve IS a fucking romantic. Ridiculously so. Eddie keeps trying to tell him he doesn't have to try so hard, he's not a girl, dammit, he really doesn't need to be wined&dined and is just happy to be around Steve, but Steve is determined. He wants to do this whole dating Eddie thing right. He makes candlelit dinners, and takes him to movies so he can hold his hand in the dark, and is so fucking lovely and gentle the first time they have sex Eddie almost cries.

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

Steve likes silly comedy movies, sunrises, ice-cream despite having way too many free samples working at Scoops, Robin's singing along to her favorite songs, and watching Eddie play guitar for him.

Steve dislikes sleeping in complete darkness, generally being alone, headaches, worrying when someone in the Party isn't responding on the radio, and the word 'bullshit'.

ൠ - random headcanon

Steve's bisexual awakening was Bon Jovi.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

I Drove All Night // S.H.

Request: hii can i request a steve harrington x reader with prompt entry ” i miss you. i miss you so much it hurts. ” ? thanks! - @kylasgambit

a/n: I loved this request so much that I immediately wrote it out after my last fic. I hope you like this! The reader is in college whereas Steve is in Hawkins at the video store, I thought it fit better with your request - I hope you don't mind. 

warnings: reader is in college, Steve is mopey and missing them, lots of fluff, lots of cute feelings and happiness, some blasphemy.

word count: 1.1k

Title: Roy Orbison - I Drove All Night

“What do you mean you aren’t coming home for Thanksgiving?” Steve all but yells down the phone.

“I mean exactly that,” You answer, the connection poor. “I have too much to do. Three essays due all around the same time as well as studying for my exams. I want to do well, Steve. You know how much this means to me.”

“I know,” He breathes, “I was looking forward to seeing you, that’s all.”

“I was too, babe.”

“You’re coming home for Christmas though, right?” Steve asks, completely aware of how needy he sounds.

His mood brightens at the sound of your laughter coming through the phone. “Yes,” You confirm, “I’ll be back home for Christmas.”

A breath of relief rushes through at your words. “Alright,” Steve concedes. “I have to go, I’m closing today. Talk to you tomorrow – I love you.”

“I love you too,” You answer easily before hanging up, leaving Steve to wallow in his disappointment.

The disappointment hangs over him for the majority of his shift. His mind running through the conversation. Steve knew how dedicated you were to your work; wanting to get the best grades possible, and to maintain them.

He understood that. Your dedication to your education was one of the things he loves most about you, but… he missed you.

He really, really missed you.

It had been three months since he had last seen you in person. Three months since he had heard your laugh, seen your smile, felt you pressed against him in the middle of the night.

Dammit, he just missed you.

Steve continues to mope for the rest of his shift. Not even watching Robin flail and do her best to flirt with Vickie, the clarinet player from band, could improve his mood.

“Has he been like this all day?” Dustin asks five minutes after entering the video rental store.

“Pretty much,” Robin confirms, reaching for her drink.

Dustin frowns, knowing full well what Steve could be like when in one of his moods. He sidles up beside Steve, nudging him with his elbow. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Steve sighs. “(Y/N) rang. They aren’t coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“Ah,” Dustin murmurs, reaching up to pat Steve on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. I know how much you were looking forward to seeing them.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine. It’s whatever.”

Dustin remains silent, letting Steve get a hold of his emotions. Dustin continues to remain silent as Steve bursts, “I just… I miss (Y/N).”

“Then why are you still here?” Dustin asks, confused.

“What?”

“Go to (Y/N). They can’t come to you, so you go to them.”

“I can’t just go, Dustin. I have a job.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Robin interrupts, joining in with the idea and blossoming in the hope of getting rid of mopey Steve. “Go, Steve.”

He doesn’t hesitate. Steve rushes from the store, patting down his pockets for his car keys. He rids himself of his work waistcoat, throwing it in the back of his car before setting off.

Steve makes two stops before hitting the road for the long drive down to your college dorm. The first to his house where he packs a bag in the hopes that you won’t kick him out. The second to a gas station; filling his car, grabbing snacks and some flowers.

The radio is his only company on the long drive south to your college. Steve switches between stations, singing along to whatever he knows. Abba, Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison all the way to heavier songs by Kiss and AC/DC.

As Steve pulls onto your college campus, the clock above his radio tells him it is just after three in the morning. Pulling up outside of your building, Steve idles in the car, briefly second guessing all of his decisions over the course of the night.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Steve exits his car – flowers in one hand as he flattens his hair with the other. Peering up at what he’s certain is your window, Steve isn’t surprised to see a light on. You were known to pull all-nighters to ensure your work was complete and up to your standard.

He’s at your door before he knows it. You’re lucky enough to have the room to yourself after your prospective roommate dropped out before move-in day and the college never assigned you another.

One knock.

Two knocks.

Three.

The shock is plain on your face when you find Steve waiting on the other side of your door with a bunch of wilting flowers. Your heart leaps into your throat at the sight of him; dishevelled, obviously tired, but just as in love with you as you are with him. Before you can utter a word, Steve interrupts.

“I know I should have called but I was dying to get to you.”

“Steve…”

“Let me finish,” He pleads. “I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.” The words are plain but the emotion behind them is staggering. “I know your workload is crazy; essay after essay, exam after exam, but I couldn’t go one more night without you.”

A moment of silence passes before Steve says, “I’ve finished.”

At those words, you pull Steve into a crushing hug. The cellophane wrapping of the flowers is crushed between your bodies, but neither of you could care as Steve’s arm wraps around your waist so tightly you worry for a minute that it could snap right off. Your arms wind around Steve’s neck, pulling you up to his height.

“I am so happy to see you,” You breathe, tears springing to your eyes at the unexpected rush of joy that runs through your veins at the sight of Steve before you.

“You are?”

“I am,” You whisper, inhaling the musky scent of Steve’s cologne and instantly feeling at ease and at home. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Oh, thank God,” Steve breathes, pressing his face to your hair and breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

“No!” You cry, “I always want to see you. It broke my heart to tell you I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving.”

“It broke mine a little too,” He confesses. “I was moping at work. Dustin told me to get my shit together so here I am.”

You snort at the mention of Dustin. “Here you are,” You murmur, “And what shall we do now that you are here?”

“Two things,” Steve purrs, smiling down at you. “One, I think you should lead me inside your room. And two, I think I should kiss you senseless.”

“I like the sound of those, Harrington. Shall we?”

All feels right with the universe once again as you lead Steve into your room. Steve can finally breathe easy, he’s driven all night and it’s led him to you.

******

Stranger Things taglist: @magicalxdaydream​ (I'm not sure if you wanna be tagged in all my fics), @neptunes-curse​ @echovqmps 

[lovebillyhargrove]

***

Steve is woken up by a drunk booming voice singing – somewhere close to his house,

Oh for Christ's sake, plain bellowing

"JINGLE BELLS !! jingle beeells jiiingle all the wAay

Oh what fun it is to sleigh .. to ride .. the fuck ..

In a one horse .. two horse? open sleigh heEEy!"

WHAT is it ..!? Drunk neighbors coming home after a night out? In THIS neighborhood ??.. Unbelievable!

Steve cracks one eye open and glances at the clock on the bedside table

6 fucking 07 a.m. gooooooood

Who the hell is up so early on Christmas day??

The voice outside turns into disgusting snickering

"Hehee .. jingle BALLS yo! Let's jingle them balls .. oh shit .."

The asshole giggles some more, and then the voice becomes .. expressive. Compassionate, full of emotion

"LaAast Christmas !! I gave you my HEART

But the very next daAAaaay

You gave it awaAay

Yooouurr loss .. bitch .."

Followed by a loud hiccup and thoughtful contemplations

"The guy gave you his heart, and you fucking couldn't take care of it !? .. Fucking stupid. Whatever .. It's someone else's gain now. Finders keepers, bitch."

Huh ..!?

Okay, the person who's shouting under Steve's window clearly doesn't know anything other than refrains only (and the knowledge of refrains is very questionable as well.)

What an idiot, what a dumb piece of drunk shit.

Harrington hides his head under the pillow and groans "Just go away pleeee .."

"DECK !! the halls with boughs of hooolly,

Fa la lalala la la lalaAAA.

Tis the season to be jolly,

Fa lala laAA la lalala laaaAaa.

Don we now our gay apparel,

Fa la la lala .. Fuck, gay my ass .."

Obnoxious cackling and incoherent mumbling is followed by a loud

"FOR THE RECORD, NO-ONE'S GAY HERE, HARRINGTON !! Just so you know, FY-fucking-I !!"

Did .. did this dumbass just say Harrington ?? .. The voice is oddly familiar too .. No, no noooo, not on Christmas morning, just .. Please! Steve's got no intention to deal with this crap, especially right now! He just wants to sleep, okay? What the hell??

Steve tightens his grip on the pillow

A moment of silence. A spark of hope.

.

.

"It's beginning to loOOok a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you goOOooo .."

GOD PLEASE, JUST SHUT UP, YOU CAN'T EVEN GET THE TUNE RIGHT

"Take a look at the .. canes and .. blah blah. Gonn' FUCK these stupid holidays .."

A loud sigh

"It's beginning to look .. like Christmas

TOOoys in eevery store,

But the prettiest sight is the PRETTY BOY'S ASS .. EEeevrywhere I goOOO !!"

EXCUSE ME WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK

Steve gets off the bed, in all his morning glory, hair a mess, wearing a tee and his tighty whities, full of rightful indignation

Opens the window and what does he see?

A completely drunk Billy Hargrove – can you imagine? – wearing Santa's costume, the hat and the beard and all, making a snow angel right outside Steve's house, on his lawn, bright and early, on Christmas morning.

Hargrove must've caught sight of him cause the asshole's mouth spreads into a catlike grin

Voice raspy and syrupy at the same time – how does he do that? – and so perfectly wasted

Purring

"Heeey Harrrington .. Been partying all night at Tommy's, man. Drrrunk as a fucking fish .. So much booze. You didn't show up so .. I decided to bring the fucking holiday spirit to you, sleepyhead .. Christmas carols and stuff .."

.. Sleepyhead ??

"Right to the prrretty king's chambers – VOILÀ!"

Voi .. what?

Steve's never felt at a more utter, complete loss in all of his entire life. What should he do? Leave the idiot right there on the snow? .. Go to the guest room on the other side of the house to catch up on sleep? .. Dammit.

..

Hmm. Did, by any chance, naughty Santa bring Steve a gift?

***

For @withoneheadlight Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!! ❤️🎄⛄❄️🎅❤️

[serialcultist-edwardmunson]

Part 2 “Bartender Steve/Steddie AU”

Part 1 HERE

Verging on drunk, his body loose and fluid, Eddie saunters back up to the bar. He’s currently two drinks in, and them being Harrington specials, they both were incredibly strong. He smiles wide and bats his eyelashes when he catches Steve's eye, causing the man to set down the rag he was using to clean and walk over. Eddie leans forward on the counter, propping his head up on his palm like a schoolgirl waiting for the latest gossip,

“Did you already chug that last drink?” Steve chuckles, matching Eddie's posture and slumping down dramatically, “I will cut you off if I have to, Munson.”

“I did, in fact, finish that drink yes, but I was wonderinggggg….” Eddie says in a sing-song voice, “if I could hide my vest back there with you.” he scrunches his nose, “It's hot as balls, lots of balls, out there and I just wanna dance, y’know?” He most definitely whines that last part. Okay, so maybe he was a little drunk already. 

He hadn't even noticed that Steve had brought him over another drink, this one with an orange on top. Steve huffs a sigh but his smirk stays put, 

“Yeah fine, hand it over, I'll keep it safe.” he sets the drink down and offers out his hand,

“Ugh you are an absolute ANGEL, Steve Harrington.” Eddie coos, shrugging off the vest and passing it over the bar. He notices Steve's eyes fall to his torso where he’s wearing nothing more than a long sleeve mesh cropped top, now unblocked by the vest and his arms. A look of purposeful expressionlessness mars his face. It doesn’t take more than a second for Eddie to realize what he’s looking at.

Steve is looking at the scars on his stomach. 

It's only a split second and Steve snaps his eyes back up, giving a small smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, before turning and tucking the jacket away. Eddie snatches up the drink, suddenly feeling altogether too sober. He heads back towards the dancefloor before Steve can turn back around, foregoing the straw and taking large swigs of his new, and once again delicious, drink (Steve really knew what he was doing, dammit). 

He always loved losing himself to the music, even if it was Madonna and Abba. The lights, the bodies, the sweat. He felt at home. As he buried himself deep within the crowd, he could also bury his residual anxiety from that look. That look of knowing that Steve had given and tried to hide.

Something warm and soft slips around his sides from behind him. The familiar sensation of hands grabbing his waist while he danced, of being wanted even for that moment, washes over him. The alcohol washes over him. He pushes back into the body and closes his eyes, imagining a brunette with kind hazel eyes and a lopsided smile. The hands wander up and down his chest, and he throws his arms over his head, whipping his head back and forth to the music. 

After one or two songs of being taken by the music and his daydream, the body behind him pulls themselves flush and nuzzles into the back of Eddie's neck, scruff lightly scratching his skin and making him shiver despite the heat in the club. He pictures the scruff below a ridiculous mustache, and he reaches up and over his shoulder behind him, expecting a stupid little ponytail, the name Steve on his lips. Instead he feels short cut and wiry hair, pulling him from his fantasy. He turns in place, the hands sliding over him with the movement, and finds a middle aged man with a scruffy beard and facial piercings. His sinewy arms having just enough muscle to be appealing, exposed by his sleeveless shirt. The last drink was starting to set in, and while he wanted nothing more than to bask in the attention of someone, anyone, he can’t help but feel disappointed that the man before him is not Steve. He was tipped past the point of no return (whether that means the alcohol or Steve, he can’t say). 

The older man tries to continue pressing himself into Eddie, pushing his nose into the side of Eddie's neck, forcing his head to turn. He looks back past the crowd of bodies towards the bar and finds Steve watching them. Steve raises his chin a bit at being caught, but he doesn’t look away, and something in the way Steve is looking at him makes Eddie want to give him a show. 

So he does.

Eddie pulls his hair away from his neck, giving the older man more access to his lower jaw, then wraps both arms around the other man's neck. Never breaking eye contact with Steve, he grinds his hips forward on the man's thigh, feeling a shaky breath push its way out of his lungs. He rocks forward again, and he can barely hear the light moan that comes out of his throat over the music. His eyes flutter close at the feeling, and when he opens them again, Steve is still staring, his pink lips slightly parted and brows furrowed. Eddie doesn’t push forward again, instead he just keeps looking at Steve. 

After a moment (or an hour, he can't really tell), Steve makes a motion with his hand like a drinking glass and mouths the word water, to which Eddie nods. He pulls himself away from the older man, the hands slipping down his body as he steps back, and pushes himself through the crowd.

When Eddie gets to the bar, Steve slaps a glass of ice water down on the counter immediately,

“What's this?” Eddie gestures to the glass,

“Water.” Steve leans on his arms and Eddie pretends not to notice the muscles flexing under his skin, “Y’know, the reason I called you over here.”

“What?” Eddie scrunches his brow, then jokes, “I thought you were asking for a blowjob. This is much less fun.” 

Steve barks out a laugh, “Hate to break it to you, but I have a policy of not getting head from friends.”

Eddie frowns, “That's ultra specific.”

“I've had some ultra specific situations.” Steve points at the cup, “Drink your water, Munson.”

“But mooooooooooooom…'' Eddie whines, but takes a large sip anyway, letting his eyes roll back as if it were the best thing he’s ever tasted. Steve smiles and turns back to the rest of the counter, moving around like before when he flirted and chatted up the patrons. Eddie watches unabashedly this time, the alcohol removing his reservations about staring. He watches and sips and watches and sips, until his glass is empty. And without even realizing that he had noticed, Steve brings him another glass of water,

“Aww man, I'm gonna have to pee so bad. This is all your fault.”

“Don't blame me for your bad decisions.”

“You made me the drinks!”

“And you drank them.”

(PART 3 HERE)

[princess-josephina]

Fruity Four Advent Calendar 2-12: Snow

So sorry to be slightly late with this, had it in the drafts but I was picking up my best friend from the airport yesterday and I hadn't seen her in 6 months

AO3 link

The snowstorm's been raging in Hawkins for several days non stop. Steve and Eddie have been taking turns shoveling the snow from Steve's driveway, because getting snowed in doesn't sound all that romantic when you only have enough food for a couple more days. 

Today, it's Eddie's turn, and Steve should have known something's up when he's been outside for way longer than necessary; in his defense, the movie he's been watching was quite captivating, so he only realizes Eddie’s been gone for almost an hour when he hears the front door open and shut. And then he turns the corner to see Eddie and just knows. Because Eddie's covered in snow head to toe, frozen lumps of it stuck in a mess of hair, even though the weather's been actually clear all morning; but the biggest giveaway is the fake-innocent smile his boyfriend gives him as he toes off his boots. "Hiya, Stevie."

"Eddie." Steve folds his arms on his chest and narrows his eyes. "Eddie. What did you do?"

"Nothing," Eddie replies, choking on giggles as he breezes past Steve into the kitchen. 

Steve doesn't believe him, so he opens the door and peers outside. The driveway is clear of the snow. His car looks fine. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. What the hell? Confused, he shuts the door and goes to join Eddie in the kitchen.

"Eds. I know you did something. You're in that mood."

"What mood?" The bastard bats his eyelashes at him, still smiling as he pours boiled water from the kettle into two mugs.

"Your prank mood."

"No idea what you mean, Stevie." Eddie grins and offers one mug to Steve. "Tea?" 

It's much later, when Steve goes upstairs to grab something from his room, that he accidentally glances out of the window and groans.

"God dammit, EDDIE!!!" 

He can hear his boyfriend's cackling the whole time he takes to get back downstairs. Still giggling and wiping tears from his eyes by the time Steve gets up in his face, and he's goddamn adorable like this, and his laughter is so addictive Steve's chuckling, too, even as he tries to scold him.

"Did you seriously draw a giant snow dick on my front lawn?!"

Eddie giggles harder, dropping his forehead onto Steve's shoulder, and Steve rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"It's official. I'm dating a five year old."

"You love me," Eddie retorts, and Steve hugs him. Can't argue with that.

"Yeah, I do, you absolute weirdo."

Several days later, Steve stops by the upstairs window and sighs. Despite more snowfall, the giant dick outline is still very visible. By now it's probably the number one gossip topic among his annoying neighbors. 

Truthfully, he doesn't really care if his parents find out about this. He's a total disappointment to them anyway, and that's without them knowing he's a queer, and in love with Eddie "The freak" Munson. He's just worried stuff like that will bring too much attention to them. If anyone looks too closely, they might notice how said freak never seems to leave the Harrington residence, except to go to work or shop for groceries. How he wraps his arms around Steve in the morning and kisses his neck while Steve makes breakfast; they're careful to keep the curtains closed, most of the time, but not always. This town doesn't need another reason to whip out their pitchforks against Eddie.

He turns his head, and his eyes widen at the sight of Eddie, nearly thigh deep in the snow on the other side of the lawn, drawing what looks suspiciously like…

"That better not be a butt, Eddie!" He opens the window to yell, and Eddie looks up to grin at him.

"It's not a butt! Promise!" He keeps moving, pushing his way through the snow to slowly form a shape, and Steve finally sees what it is as Eddie turns a sharp corner at the bottom of it. A few minutes later, Eddie spreads his arms and sings, "Ta-da!", looking up at Steve from the top of a giant snow heart. 

Steve's stomach sinks, because it's so sweet it's unfair. This is what Eddie's love looks like. Stupid, reckless, unashamed, loud. Too loud for fucking Hawkins. 

Steve shuts the window and walks downstairs, pulls on a pair of boots and his jacket. Outside, he finds Eddie smiling sheepishly at him as he carves what looks suspiciously like the letter S in the middle of the heart. Dammit. Wordlessly, Steve grabs him by the hand and pulls him back towards the house, ignoring Eddie's complaints about ruining his masterpiece.

"Let's get the fuck out of Hawkins," he blurts out, facing Eddie once they are safely back indoors, in his living room.

"What?" Eddie stops in the middle of tugging off his coat. "Where would we go?"

"I don't know. Indy. Chicago. California. Somewhere you can do that," he points out of the window, "and I'm not on the verge of freaking out that people will put 2 and 2 together and try to hurt you." He reaches for Eddie, stops halfway and groans with frustration, jerks at the window curtain so hard it nearly rips, hiding them from the risk of prying eyes. "See? This is what I mean." He sighs, finally safe to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. "I wanna go somewhere I can hold you like this, and the worst thing that would happen is a disgusted look from some bigoted asshole."

Eddie's quiet for a long moment, chewing on his lip. Then, he smiles softly and cups Steve's cheek; his palm is freezing cold, but Steve doesn't care, leans into the touch and chuckles, relieved, as Eddie finally responds.

"Can Cali be our first option? I'm actually kind of sick of shoveling snow."

A/N: This is totally the kinda face I was thinking about writing this.

[mirrored-heart-fics]

Cruel to Be Kind (s.h. x reader)

from @get-your-fics‘s A Midsummer Night’s Writing Challenge! Thanks so much for tagging me in this! Hope you all enjoy 💗

Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew // 10 Things I Hate About You 

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader (fluff, a little angst)

warnings: strong language/swearing, betrayal, high school level PDA

word count: 8k

Note: The reader insert uses she/her pronouns. I chose to write the reader as an immigrant/ethnic kid (her parents are non-English speakers/speak only a little English). She’s probably ND as well but was never diagnosed. It takes place during Season 4, but no major plot events happened (nothing w/ Vecna or the Upside Down). I cut out the subplot of Bianca and her suitors for a simpler story, but still using the original source material as the basic outline. The title comes from the song by Letters to Cleo, which is featured in the soundtrack for 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Say she rail; why, I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word; Then I'll commend her volubility, and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dustin slammed the door as he got into Steve's car. (These kids, man. Where are their manners?)

"Steve, hey, look. I need you to do me a favor," he turned and looked up at the older boy who was currently fiddling with the dial on the radio with a concentration that could match El's.

"What?" Dammit, he needed to replace it soon. But he really didn't wanna go to his dad so it may have to stay busted for now.

"Okay, so just got bamboozled—"

"Bamboozled?"

"Shut up, practically trampled by these freshman—"

"You mean your classmates?"

"Yeah, whatever, anyway—these freshies wanted you do something for them. And—it's kind of like a big ask. But you owe me a soda anyway."

Steve was intrigued. Or, at least, mildly interested in whatever these freshman had to say. He hadn't befriended any other younger teens outside of Dustin's circle and had no siblings, so he didn't know how these kids knew his name. He was sure his 'King Steve' reputation died when he graduated.

"Okay? What is it?" He sounded... weary... of the details he wasn't even aware of yet.

It couldn't be too big, right? Like, these kids probably wanted him to drive them around or—

"You need to ask Y/N out so that they can ask her sister out to Homecoming. Her sister can't date anyone until Y/N does. I dunno, her family's, like, super strict or something," Dustin blurted out. Completely ripped off the band-aid.

Steve flinched back from the broken radio.

What?

...

What was he to him? Did he only exist to give into Dustin’s every needs and wants?

He wasn’t some kind of dating service or whatever the fuck.

 “Please? These kids are obnoxious as hell yet so popular somehow. They have not left me alone—I swear to God—since that dance was announced,” Dustin pleaded.

 He looked again at his younger friend. His dorky freshman and kid-brother figure in his life.

That... wasn't the most insane thing he's been asked to do, considering Dustin and the gang always got him into supernatural shit anyway.

How hard could this be?

Robin commented recently on how he's managed to go on a thousand dates every week. This is one of his main strengths in his, well, diverse arsenal of skills (using household items as demon hunting equipment was strangely a plus). If anything, it would be weirder if he didn't get the girl.

And, speaking of the girl, Y/N—she was a complete stranger to him. He could vaguely recall having junior year history with her... maybe it was chemistry? The more she didn't know who he was in high school, the simpler this would be and the sooner this would be over. He would take her on a date, turn on his trademarked charm, and be done with it.

Steve sighed. What did he have to lose, truly? It was just a stupid little favor.

Dustin looked hopeful... hopeful that this would stop those boys from pestering him. Steve empathized wholeheartedly.

"Alright, when do I ask her?" He started the engine and gripped his hands on the steering wheel.

—————✨

The girl in question was spending her time stocking shelves, sweeping the floor, helping customers find their items and then checking out their items. She planned to work at the Hawkins Art and Frame store for the year before studying at a small art school next fall.

She was currently bored at the counter, hand on her chin and forearm resting on the counter, re-reading a comfort book but not being able to focus on the story. Just skimming over the words. It was a slow day. Barely anyone came by.

The bell rang and she glanced at the source of the sound and movement. It was a guy who graduated with her from high school.

"Hi, welcome in," she called out in a light tone as she does to all customers of Hawkins Art and Frame. He nodded back and waved to her with a tight smile.

Oh god, not this jerk. She clearly remembers hiding herself in her notes or a book, trying not to get roped into the conversations of the popular group. She succeeded—they didn't bother her and she could live out her quiet existence in peace. She learned nothing deeper about them and that's the way she preferred it.

She looked down into her book, pretending to read. Literally just studying the texture of page, not comprehending any of the printed text.

The guy—Steve—wanders around the store, pausing at sections of brushes and paint, canvases and paper. Not that she's creating meticulous notes in her head of his store behavior or anything.

"Uhm, hi. I'd like to buy this," he lays down a single 2B graphite pencil in front of her.

"Alright, it'll be two dollars—"

"Two dollars? For a pencil?" She wants to let out a laugh, but she's a budding expert in the ancient art of keeping one's cool.

"Yeah—you chose an expensive brand, see?" She twists the pencil over to the side where the name is stamped into it. "And artist pencils are different from regular ones. This one is softer. It'll smudge more easily."

Steve pauses a second and decides whether or not he wants to go through his charade.

"I... sorry, I don't actually want to buy this," he runs a hand through his hair. "I came here because..." Why is he so nervous? The girl looks up at him with soul-piercing eyes, that's why.

"For a date." He manages to push out.

...why isn't she responding?

"A... date?" The girl is thoroughly confused. He nods his head.

"Yeah, I..." shit, shit, he was gonna kill these kids if he finds them. "I wanted to ask you on a date." This is far from the most embarrassing thing he's done yet it viscerally feels like it.

"I, uhm. Uh." The girl is blinking rapidly. Unsure if this is real or not. "Uhm. I don't know."

"You... don't know?" Why does he feel a bit crushed?

"I—I don't know you that well, Steve," she answers flatly.

That's fair, he thinks. He doesn't know her at all.

"Will you think about it?" Shit, he sounds too eager. Keep it cool.

"Uh." She looks up into the hope-filled brown eyes of one Steve Harrington. "Sure?" Is all she can genuinely give right now.

He gives her a thumbs up and speeds out the door.

She has a lot to journal about tonight.

—————✨

She does think about it. That part is truthful.

But—she doesn't think she'll accept the date request. The "I don't know" was a soft "no."

The girl rolls over on her bed, unable to sleep, brain too busy with potential scenarios of how this may play out. If she says yes and her parents allow it—if they don't even care—then what? She goes on a date and has a good time? Or she goes on a date and feels awkward and uncomfortable, leaving the both of them miserable?

Would her parents allow it? They sure haven't for her little sister, that bitc—kid she doesn't get along with.

But she was legally an adult now. They told her she's allowed to do anything she wants within reason.

If she says no and doesn't go on a date, life will be the same except she may hurt a dude (a guy who was pretty rude in high school, her conscience would insist—don't feel too bad).

If she doesn't show up at work and lives inside her bedroom, she would be able to avoid Steve long enough that he forgets her, but then she'd lose her job and thus her money for school.

She runs her hands over the comforter, playing with the loose threads. She hadn't considered why yet. Why would Steve want to take her on a date?

She struggled to produce an answer.

—————✨

 "Hey," Steve showed up once again to Y/N's workplace. In a cute yellow sweatshirt. With nice, fashionable, big hair. She even notices freckles on his face, but rapidly tries to erase that thought that out of her mind.

"Hi?"

"You? Me? Date?" He points at her and himself.

"Uhhhhhhhh."

"Y/N, you have gorgeous eyes," Steve tries complimenting her, realizing it was too soon as he speaks it. He internally smacked his head.

"Uh, I—thanks?" Y/N grimaces-smiles. She tried to keep it friendly, but unsure if what she wants to do in her head is showing up on her face. She's pretty sure she's not nailing what she's going for...

And Steve thinks the same with his moves.

"I just thought, 'man, I was wondering what Y/N was up to today, I'm so impressed with her art skills,' and I had to visit you," Steve wonders if he's hamming up his delivery enough.

"...How'd you know I make paintings?" Her face is showing disbelief. He was going for amazement and hopefully swooning but this is okay, too.

"I remembered—high school." Snap. Finger guns. "Miss Watson's sixth period art class. You were wicked in her studio. Complete genius. A real Picasso in there," aaaannnd that's the extent of his art knowledge. Picasso was an artist, wasn't he? He had Dustin go through his yearbook to figure out what extracurriculars Y/N did, though he did know that she had taken Watson's studio art class (Nance had it, also).

Y/N's eyes popped in recognition, but he took that as a good sign.

"I, uh. Thanks, Steve."

He smiled at that.

"But—why me?"

And the smile marginally dropped.

"I mean—you have lots of other girls dying to be with you, waiting for you to ask them, no?" Steve found it was harder to keep a friendly face. "Why don't you go look for them?" Someone who's actually interested in you, she wanted to add, but held back. It would be a bit too mean.

"Y/N, I'm really into you. Like, super. I mean—you're so artsy! And nice and cool. What guy wouldn't wanna be with you?" He's salvaging what he can from this dumpster fire he started himself.

That... did something in her. Something bad. Small, but bad. He could tell in the tiny downturn of her lips, the glimmer in her eyes. Did he say the wrong thing? He meant it as a compliment. He tried compliments this whole time. It's not working. Why isn't it working?

 She replied carefully, choosing her words like picking out a splinter. "Thanks, but... no, Steve... I'm sure you're used to getting 'yes' all the time. But. Sorry."

 He couldn't believe it. He blew at his best trait.

—————✨

 Steve re-told the story of his failed attempt to Robin, slicing out all of the bits about Dustin's favor. Robin didn't need to know that. She'd freak out and the plan would be ruined and Dustin would hold a grudge against him for a million years. He couldn't lose his only other friend.

And she was laughing. Snickering. Snorting. Hooting and clapping her hands.

"You complimented her eyes? That early? Outta nowhere?" Robin was holding her abdomen, stomach muscles hurting from the amount of laughter she was letting out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know—wasn't the best timing," Steve rolled his eyes, resting his hands on the counter of Family Video. "I panicked in the moment. Usually, I just... ya know," he waves his hands around, "smile and give girls the look, and it all ends up going good from there," he side-eyed his best friend.

"You dingus, that's why you have to learn something about her before you ask her out," Robin gave him a gentle shove.

"I don't know," he shrugged, "I panicked in the moment and-and it felt like I was slipping... she didn't join any clubs in high school. I had, like, only one class with her. I was so focused on Nance, right? I only knew she did art and that's what I told her," he lifted his eyebrows.

"You told her?" She teased.

"Complimented her. You know what I mean."

"Ooookay, have you seen any of her art?"

Steve was suspiciously quiet.

"Steve!" Robin scolded, swatting at his arm.

"I know! It's not working—my usual charm—not working..." He couldn't figure out why. He's usually in the clear at this point. He ran a hand over his face.

"Steve," Robin looked at him, sobering up, "maybe consider that not all girls are the same. Or that, you know, I can't afford to screw up if I like a girl." Steve nodded, eyebrows tilting. Grounded by the serious reminder.

"So... what do I do now?"

Robin looked around the video store, aimlessly at first and then—spotting the candy aisle.

"I have an idea, Harrington."

  —————✨

Y/N was sketching on her bed, Walkman headphones on. Her sister was throwing a fit to her parents in the bedroom next door (she couldn't go dress shopping with her friends if she wasn't allowed to go to Homecoming in the first place). She increased the volume dial.

She turned the paper around, drawing on the far end corners she couldn't reach without smudging. Thinking over the two encounters with Steve over the week. How (seemingly) spontaneous and strangely persistent they were. How it was Steve Harrington of all people.

But also noticing after the fact how... dorky he acted. Leagues away from his high school self. Finger guns? The thumbs up and dash away? She unconsciously smiled to herself, thinking of the mental images they created.

Huh. Maybe he had really changed after all.

Or maybe he hadn't.

With no reference point to the real Steve beneath the reputation, either in high school or currently, how could she judge him accurately? Or maybe the reputation was the true him, which was less of a chilling thought and more of a sad, pathetic one.

Still, neither the pity nor genuine curiosity into the layers of Steve wasn't enough to accept his date invitation. She lounged on her bed, covered by her pillows and blankets, surrounded by art supplies and snacks. It was a literal comfort zone, one she felt no desire to leave whatsoever.

Even if a... she wanted to roll her eyes at finishing this thought.

Even if a... conventionally attractive boy existed beyond its boundaries. (There. She could leave that in the open.)

 But some tiny, evil plotting part of her brain started thinking about what a date with Steve would be like. It conspired in the back of her mind, stubbornly lingering while her music and art distracted her at the forefront.

—————✨

It started with small things—her favorite candies, bookmarks from the used book store she shopped at, colored pencils. These little presents appeared on her work counter from time to time. At the very first moment, she was pleasantly surprised, but then it quickly became obvious who it was from, and her surprise turned into bitter acceptance.

Steve showed up more, hanging around her counter, even helping her when she had to restock items. He came as much as he could whenever he was off on his own shifts at Family Video. She tried to shoo him out and he respected that whenever she actually had customers to help, but for the most part...

He was here. With her.

Huh.

Okay, then.

She learned that he wasn't close to his parents (who were never home, anyway, he told her). She told him that she came from a big, nosy, tight-knit family. She learned that he was able to tell what kind of hair products people used (and later learned what kind he himself used). He learned from his own observations that she was a music and art snob, criticizing other people’s collection of cassettes and VHS tapes like her life depended on it.

 “Favorite movie?” she asked as they were both re-stocking the pencils.

“Back to the Future—I saw it with Robin when it first came out,” he chuckled to himself, remembering that night.

“Oh, your sister, right?” She recalled seeing her a couple times at Family Video. She had seen her maybe once in the frame shop before she knew Steve. She seemed like another artsy type, was kind of a band geek, she remembered, but friendly. They were cool whenever they passed each other in the halls or classrooms back when she attended Hawkins High.

“What? No! She’s not my sister.”

“Well sorry,” The girl put her hands up, “It’s just that… you guys look alike.” She shrugged. She insisted it was a fair assumption. She furrowed her eyebrows. “…Back to the Future? Really? You work at a video store. You don’t have any other ones?”

Steve was a little shocked by her boldness. He thought this girl was supposed to be nice, right? “I mean… The Karate Kid! I saw that one in the theater. Ferris Bueller? Ghostbusters?” He was getting weirdly defensive about his movie tastes.

“I liked Ferris Bueller also…” she conceded. “But that’s it?”

“What else would there be?”

“Uh, you’re skipping over entire genres and histories of movies. Not to mention international ones or experimental films. Or feminist films. Stuff like that. All of yours is kitsch,” The girl went back to sorting her pencil stock.

Steve was genuinely offended. He would have to look up whatever she said in the last part. He didn’t even know how to spell that.

“Well—which ones do you like then?” He asked just to ask. He was still recovering from his bruised ego.

“Next time you go to work, you need to look out for… actually, no, let me write you a list,” she stood up to go to the check-out counter. She pulled out a pad of yellow lined paper and a pencil. She scribbled down her list, but he couldn’t see exactly what she was writing from his angle.

“This is your homework,” she ripped out the sheet of paper and handed it to Steve. It contained a few movies he’d seen at Family Video (he recognized their VHS covers), but most of them were new names to him. Some of the titles were in foreign languages. French? Spanish? He sweated nervously.

  The girl had a couple siblings, including an annoying younger teenage sister. Steve pretended not to know that.

She observed that he morphed into a parent figure when he was with the young group of teens. She was surprised that he was close with one of them (the curly-haired one with the baseball cap. He even had a handshake with him).

The Steve she knew from high school wasn’t him. 

  "Let's go eat something," Steve tilted his head towards the storefront. The girl was closing her shift and taking off her apron and name tag.

"I should probably go home, Steve. What if my parents ask where I am?" She answered indifferently. Steve learned by now that it was another way of her saying no.

"You can say that you're eating dinner with a friend—a friend that can drive you and have you back before dark. C'mon, you live close here," he gestured to vaguely the direction of her house.

"You haven't met them in person yet," she bent down to grab her purse.

"Don't worry, I can charm parents, too," he grinned boyishly.

"Steve," she looked him in the eye, "you haven't been around immigrant parents and it's showing." She put on her windbreaker. "They're not like American parents—not so relaxed about the whereabouts of their children."

"Okay, but maybe I can try to ge—"

"It's like with my sister—they refuse to let her go to Homecoming, let alone allow any dating for her," Steve's eyes widened for a split second, heartbeat skyrocketed for one millionth. And back down.

"But you can try," she mock-smiled up at him.

—————✨

 "No shoes in the house."

"Okay," Steve wheezed out, following close behind her steps. He bent down to untie his shoes and leave them next to the door while Y/N effortlessly slipped hers off and kicked them under a stool.

"Y/N? YOU HOME?" Her mom called out from the living room. She was folding laundry on the couch while her grandmother was watching a TV show.

"YEAH! Steve, come on," she waved him in. He followed her and—she cringed slightly. She forgot to tell her family beforehand. But you can't prepare for spontaneity, she supposed.

"MOM I'M HERE WITH A FRIEND," she entered the living room.

"WHO'S THAT?" Her mom looked over just as Steve appeared in her line of vision.

He waved and smiled. In a very unusually stiff way, the girl noted.

"MOM, THIS IS STEVE," The girl crossed the room to give her grandmother a kiss on the cheek. Steve took a baby step into the living room, conspicuously out of his element.

"HI STEVE," her mom nodded at him. He nodded back, still with that nervous smile. He couldn't tell what accent she had.

Her grandmother said something to Y/N in a language he didn't understand. They laughed together and Steve felt like it was directed towards him. Not in a hostile way, but not in a way that included him, obviously.

Her dad appeared in the hallway, newspaper under his arm. He looked Steve up and down, then nodded. He disappeared into the kitchen.

"H-hi, ma'am. I was wondering if I could take her—I mean if we could eat dinner together. In a restaurant. For-for food." His voice cracked several times and was at a higher octave than usual. He gestured lamely to the door.

"YEAH, GO, GO," Her mom shooed them off.

"You're... letting me go out to eat?" Y/N was momentarily stupefied.

"YEAH," Her mom resumed her activities of folding towels and watching the TV.

"...okay. Bye, mom. Bye, grandma," Y/N waved at them, turning towards Steve, gesturing them out. Her grandmother and mother said goodbye to them.

The girl had a furrowed look on her face. "...would've never happened in high school," was what Steve was able to catch from her muttering. She shut the door and locked it with her house key.

"They liked me?" Steve was still in his meeting-the-parents-of-a-friend anxiety state.

"Yeah they did. My grandma even called you 'handsome boy.'" Y/N was annoyed by that for a current unknown reason. Though, she was equally amused.

Steve's face lit up like plugged-in string lights.

"Steve," she laughed in disbelief.

"I'll wear it like a badge of honor," he announced like he was knighted by the queen. She laughed and he thought it was a sweet sound—he wanted to hear that again.

As they walked to his car, Steve couldn't help but ask:

"What d'you mean 'never happen in high school'?"

"I... my parents would ask me a lot of questions if I wanted to go to a school event or a dance. Either that or I had to stand by a chaperone if I did. It was too tedious to answer the questions and embarrassing if I did go so I ended up not going to a lot of them.

"I guess... I guess I just got used to being a homebody. It was too much work to make the effort to go out, so why do it? It's also a lot more... my style being at home. I like my hobbies and it's convenient to have all of my stuff in one place and it doesn't require other people..."

"Hobbies like drawing. Your art," he supplied.

"Exactly," she looked up at him. He looked into her eyes for answers and found an emotion he couldn't describe. But he knew what it was. He felt it himself before.

It didn't matter that he was never good with words. He could feel, and he felt deeply. And that was the most real thing to him.

"Come on, let's go eat," she opened the door to the passenger seat and slid in. She tried to shake herself from that strange moment and try to get back to dull, impersonal normalcy. She was reeling from that discomfort.

So why did they both hold on?

—————✨

 The boys had many of these moments in their downtime. Meandering hangouts just for fun. If a monster had attacked Hawkins, this would be the stage where Dustin laid out his research and plans to strike back. But currently, Steve and Dustin were sharing a bag of chips and half-watching TV together.

Steve was finding it hard to stay present. His mind kept pulling him towards the girl. He was smiling idiotically, Dustin told him. He didn’t know until he was told.

“What’s wrong? Are you in love with her now?” he remarked sarcastically, grabbing the bag for himself. Steve froze for a second.

“I—no. No, that’s crazy talk, Dustin,” He tried to regain his composure after the kid ruthlessly snatched it away. But he knew that Dustin saw that he hesitated. He forced himself to look at the TV, knowing that all of his credibility would dissipate if he looked at him now.

Dustin was silent.

No, wait—that was scarier than if he was pelting him with questions.

He felt fear—fear that since Dustin knew that something was up, that made it unavoidable to him and his brain now, no matter how much he tried to shove the feeling down.

“…Steve?” Dustin asked in a menacingly slow way.

“Yes?”

“When did it start?”

He groaned. Caught red-handed. “Uhmmm…. Like. I dunno, man… two weeks ago? Maybe?” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Didn’t you say it’d be only one date?”

“I—yes! Yes, Dustin. I just. I haven’t taken her on a date yet—not on a real date. Just give me more time.”

“Steve, the dance is coming up soon. And it’s gonna be more complicated if you actually like the girl now.”

He knew that full well. Plus, she was going away to art school next fall and he would still be in Hawkins. He’d never done long distance before. He wasn’t sure he knew how. But—that was thinking way too far ahead.

He was positive she didn’t feel that about him.

But the way he felt about her. It was… jumping off a cliff but enjoying the feeling of jumping off and falling.

He chuckled at himself. Still no way with words.

It was like what he had with Nancy, once upon a time.

—————✨

 The girl received notes made from scrap pieces of college ruled paper—compliments on her outfits, inside jokes they had developed, and cheesy song lyrics from the Top 40 radio station. One time, she even received a mini review of one of her movie recommendations. It was a half-folded piece of paper with a crude drawing of three stars colored in with two left blank. She opened the paper. It said: “To be honest, didn’t understand it. Pretty neat I guess. The main guy was cool.” She smirked.  

The girl had a growing collection at home, stuffed into an old shoebox, hidden far beneath a suitcase in her closet that no unauthorized eyes could pry into.

Steve and the girl were growing closer as signs of the dance slid beneath her nose. Four of the freshman boys had asked her sister to Homecoming. She went dress shopping with her friends but Y/N was too preoccupied with Steve's newfound place in her life to notice.

Eventually, Steve asked her once more on a date and... she said yes. To her surprise, to his surprise.

 The girl borrowed a dress from her aunt. It was her favorite color and suited her own personal style. She did her hair and makeup in front of her bedroom mirror.

She looked like... she looked like one of those girls from high school. The ones that went out all the time and had fun outside of school. The ones who had a life.

But still a version of herself was still present with all of that.

It wasn't a bad look.

She told her parents and grandmother that she'd be out with Steve and they let her go with only a request to bring back some food.

 She opened the door and Steve was more dressed up than usual in a button down under his blue jacket and his hair in a style that probably took hours to do. She wasn't sure, but she swore his eyes lit up when he saw her in her date outfit. Cute.

The girl and Steve went to a small diner close by Family Video. It was 1950s themed with neon lights, black and white checker-board tiles, even a jukebox in the corner. They selected a booth near the jukebox so she could browse the songs while waiting for their order.

Y/N was aware that she was... enjoying this. She had a petty desire to begrudge dates (maybe it was the stab of jealously she felt when seeing couples fawning over each other in public), but she had to admit that this was nice: being with him in fancy clothes and eating a comfort meal while Ella Fitzgerald's voice enchanted them from the speakers. The colors blurred into a soft neon blue and pink. The other patrons provided a quiet background noise to their conversation.

They talked about their usual topics: plans for the year, funny and/or crazy things that happened that week, hobbies, stuff on their to-do list. Anything interesting that came to mind.

 "Ya know, I don't always get a 'yes' to everything," Steve looked up at her from his plate. "Remember when you told me that? That was like, what? The second time we talked?"

She nodded, mouth full from eating.

"I really. Um. I really haven't been... I didn't know I'd end up here," he fiddled with the straw in his drink.

"What do you mean?" she tilted her head.

"Here. I mean, working at Family Video with Robin or driving around Dustin. Uh, a lot of things didn't go the way I expected them to. I didn't always get what I wanted." He thought of his shitty home life, growing away from his high school friends who were all dickheads anyway, his relationship with Nancy, his college plans that didn't go through, and, most of all, fighting for his life in a pit of alien monsters. Just the typical growing pains of life.

 "But did you get what you need instead?" Steve was taken aback. Eyes wide. He started to shake his head 'yes'—

"Like me?" she pointed at herself with her fork. He huffed. Rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, like you," he laughed, "and like Robin and Dustin. Like... people I didn't know I'd end up friends with." He stirred around his drink with his straw.

"Glad you took a chance on us nobodies, I guess," she added sarcastically.

"Hey," he was firm, chiding her. "Hey, no, no, not like that," he barely shook his head. He was soft with his voice. His eyes told her everything—everything that she wanted to believe about him.

 He was so much of what she was not. Sure, she received lots of compliments on her art or high grades, but she navigated through the world in such an awkward, clunky way, one that contrasted so visibly to Steve's. She was afraid that she was committing an innumerable amount of missteps every single time she had to interact with anyone. She was guarded and tended to doubt people more than she trusted them. She couldn't just talk to someone without a rehearsal in her head.

He had an effortless facility at basic human interaction. At rare times, in moments when it was needed, he was earnest and serious, reeling in his usual gregarious personality back in when the time wasn't right. He made people feel seen. He made people want to be around him.

She liked him. She liked him a lot. He endeared himself to her every day and she had to pretend to be annoyed by him when it was the polar opposite of that. For what? To protect her reputation? To guard her own heart?

Y/N watched Steve look at other patrons. His eyes danced around the room, a soft contented look on his face. He called over the waiter and ordered a milkshake.

 The waiter came back with two straws.

 —————✨

 "I have to pick up Dustin after the dance," Steve told her as they walked to his car. She nodded, plastic bag in hand for her family's take-out order. Just a detour and then she'd be on her way home. But a part of her wanted to stay with him for the night.

There was something about the angle of the moonlight, the glow of the neon diner sign behind them. Something that... made her want to hold hands. She took a leap of faith.

The warmth of his hand. He held her hand. He made her feel special.

She was the only thing he could see, the only thing he wanted to see in this moment.

He softly placed a hand on her cheek to bring her closer to him. They were so close, she could almost feel it. Closer to him than she'd ever been to anyone before.

They kissed. And something released inside her—relief from the anxiety of holding herself back or the finality to the anticipation of this moment. She had no clue; she couldn't think right now.

She adjusted her face to fit better. Was she doing this right? Nope, no relief from anxiety. She was still anxious. This was happening and it was exhilarating and disorienting. But it felt good, so good.

They bumped noses accidentally and she could feel him smiling. She laughed, pulling apart a little. And then it was over.

 "I—" she took a deep breath. What was there to say after... that?

 "Do all of your dates feel like that?" she was talking with no mediation between her brain and her mouth. The kiss completely dissolved her filter.

"No," Steve's chest was heavy, his cheeks hot and hair wild.

She didn’t stop to think of the implications.

 —————✨

 He drove them to Hawkins High. They held hands in the car. It was nice.

 He parked the car and they walked towards the high school gym blasting a Cyndi Lauper track. Balloons and couples framed the entrances. It was like a tunnel to another world where she would be transformed on the other side.

“Heyyyyy! Dusty, my man!” Steve called out. Dustin arrived with his long, complicated handshake.

“And you must be the ravishing Y/N,” Dustin bowed in front of her. “Enchanté.”

“Quite the gentleman,” she laughed. “Nice to meet you, too.”

A couple of Dustin’s classmates zoomed by, clapping him on the back. She couldn’t pick up what they were saying exactly, but it was like they were congratulating him for something?

She scanned the room. The dance was a lot to take in. She didn’t remember what it was like to be at one. High school felt so long ago. The music, the mass of kids in the gym, the decorations, the lights. She took a couple unsteady breaths.

She recognized a couple of Bianca’s friends to the left of the room. They were standing to the side, drinks in their hands. She thought she saw Bianca for a split second but knew that couldn’t be true. It was probably another girl that looked like her.

In her searching trance, she wasn’t aware that Dustin’s friends formed a circle near her, chatting and enjoying themselves. She took it to mean they wouldn’t be leaving right away. She looked up to Steve—who caught her eye. He winked.

She shook her head, unable to stop grinning.

Someone bumped into her.

“Oh! Sorry!” The kid exclaimed. She turned around to see—

Bianca in a party dress.

 “Y/N? How—why are you here?” she was becoming infuriated. Her older sister was quite familiar with how these things went. “I just went to the bathroom and you appeared outta nowhere?”

“Bianca, how’d you get to the dance? Did mom drive you? How did mom and dad let you?” She gestured to her whole outfit.

“Mom let me because now you’re with Steve. I went with my group and some guys that asked me out,” She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes at her older sister.

“What?” She let out softly, taking in this information that seemed impossible. She was asked to the dance? And by more than one person? Mom thought she and Steve were dating? She was mortified.

“God, you’re such a square sometimes,” she rolled her eyes.

“Bianca, we’re going home now.”

“Oh, you think you can make me? I thought you were into that whole artsy hippie boho thing. You need to chill, homegirl.”

“Wow, okay. When did you start thinking being an airhead was cool?”

“At least I’m not some loser brainiac.”

“Come on, we’re going now.”                                                                                  

“No!”

 “Guys, what’s going on?” Dustin rammed himself into their bickering. Steve looked over the kids with a concerned expression.

“I just need to get my sister home. I’d rather her have an attitude at home than here. Can you convince her to leave?”

“Hey! I’m standing right here! Hello??” Bianca pointed to herself repeatedly.

The whole crux of the plan—both of the girls—were here. Dustin’s eyes widened. “Uh—Steve?” he silently begged his friend to diffuse the situation.

“Besides, I have a date! I can’t leave,” Bianca defended her case. Dustin was guiltily aware that he’d been the one to enable that.

Bianca squeezed past them over to her friend group.

 “Y/N? I have something to tell you,” Dustin prompted nervously. She turned to face him. “I-I was the one who set it up. Some kids wanted to ask your sister out and I asked Steve to ask you out. I know your family rule.”

She just kept receiving more information this evening. She left Dustin’s friend group, slipped by Steve who called out her name, and walk-ran out the doors. She couldn’t think. She relied on pure muscle memory and brain mapping of the school to get away from the building. She hugged herself for warmth, left uncovered from the heat of the gym and bare to the October night. She took deep breaths, trying to escape this nightmare.

“Y/N!” Steve ran out from the gym to her. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. It’s crazy. I knew it was crazy. It’s crazy,” he tried to explain but it didn’t come to him like he needed.

“Steve,” she said in a defeated way. She laughed at the ridiculous situation. It was just her life now. "’If I be waspish, best beware my sting,’" she recited with a faux-acting hand motion.

“What?” Steve was genuinely confused.

“It’s Shakespeare.”  

“Why does this keep happening to me,” he remarked quietly to himself.

She laughed again, but it was tinged with a sour taste. He was adorable. He was so familiar now that it would be hard to let go of him.

 “Anyway, I gotta call my parents. Somebody has to pick me up,” she turned to go to the payphone.

“Wait—” but he knew he couldn’t end it with I’ll drive you home. He knew he majorly fucked up.

She stared sadly at him. She felt like she lived two separate days in one night.

A humble ‘bye’ was all she said to break his heart.

 —————✨

 After that night, the girl resumed her life as it had been pre-Steve. She went to work at Hawkins Art and Frame, drew pictures or read books at home, and took care of family errands.

 She was at work when Robin visited her out of the blue.

The girl straightened up in her chair and greeted her into the store.

“Hey, look, I’m so, so sorry that happened to you. That was so shitty of Steve and his kid friend,” Robin looked like she had run all the way to the store from Family Video. Some of her bangs were stuck to her forehead and she was inhaling air, making her raspy voice even more hoarse.

“I helped that dingus plan out all those little gifts for you. I was, like, his wingwoman ‘cause I thought he was really into you. And-and we went through the yearbooks to try to figure out what you liked,” she used her arms to steady her torso and panted.

“Hey, hey slow down,” the girl scolded. Robin nodded. She took a deep breath and continued:

“I found out that he was doing it for those freshman and I talked to him—I swear I did—I didn’t want it to hurt you,” Robin shook her head in emphasis.

The girl stared at her for a moment.

“Thanks, Robin. It’s nice to hear that. It's not your fault, though,” Y/N said impassively. She was understanding of Robin, of course, but her eyes dimmed at the mention of the incident.

“Listen—I’m gonna kick Dustin's ass and Steve's—both of them—but first I want you to know that he really did like you. He does like you. Present tense. He fell for you hard and he never believed that you would like him back,” she punctuated her sentences with hard gestures. Y/N lifted her head slightly, a small bit of hope sparked.

“Just—believe me. Or not. Whatever. I can’t control you.”

Robin took a couple more breaths. She pointed her thumb towards the door. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

—————✨

 Months passed by. The girl switched up her routine occasionally, but every day started to feel the same.

 Tonight, she was drawing in her room, Walkman headphones on.

 She thought she heard a thunk sound but couldn’t quite make it out from the music blasting into her ears. She ignored it.

Ignored it.

Ignored it.

Just ignored it…

Until the frequency of the sound increased. Was it trying to test her patience?

She lowered her headphones in gesture of blazing irritation and rested them around her neck.

Pebbles hit her window.

She walked over, moving closer to it. She drew the blinds open with more force than it required.

Her eyes lowered to—

Steve.

 She opened the window, a gush of wind blowing into her face and shocking her with its cold. Steve called out her name, elated to see her. He waved with both arms on the ground.

 She threw on a sweater and her slippers and rushed downstairs, opened the door, met him outside.

  “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing here?” Y/N tried to sound accusatory, but it was more muted than she intended.

“I—,” Steve restarted his sentence a couple of times. “I wanted to see you. I had to see you.”

“You could’ve just called—,” she tried to undermine his plan, to push him away before he left her and she got hurt.

“I wanted to see you in person,” he looked directly at her. No bullshitting this time. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His eyes gazed into her eyes. Her eyes, her beautiful eyes.

 What was there to say? Her hands were freezing, her legs were shaking. Her nerve signals were wide awake and she could only feel. She felt herself tear up against her will.

She moved closer to him and he pulled her into a hug. She relaxed under his embrace as if that was what she had always done. As if she always lived her life in his embrace. He held onto her tightly, trying to make her feel all his love with all his might.

“Sorry—,” she sobbed.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve’s voice was so gentle it almost hurt. So she shut her eyes and allowed herself to just be with him under the weighted blanket of the night. He held onto her for a while, rubbing her back and shoulders.

She pulled back.

“I-I just,” she wiped her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater. "That was really shitty of you. It was. And it doesn’t erase what you did but. But like…” She threw her hands down. “I don’t know… My life is different now and it’s hard to go back to the way it was before. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“Like… all the stuff you did? Like those notes and candies and stuff? Like, no one’s ever done that for me. Never. I watched all the couples in high school do that or, like, I’ll see couples on the street and I’ll feel really lonely, like I’m shut out of something,” She sniffed and wiped her nose on a napkin from her pocket. “I wonder if those couples know how lucky they are are to have each other. If they really appreciate what they have or they just take it for granted and think nothing of it because I’ve been watching from afar and wanting what they have forever.

“And I’ve never dressed up and went out for a real date and stayed outside of the house when it was dark. I’ve never been in someone’s car alone with them. I had my first kiss with you!” She gestured towards him and laughed through her tears. “I can’t stop thinking about it, all of it...

“And-and Robin! She told me that you didn’t believe I’d like you back. Which is weird because I did. I don’t know how you couldn’t figure it out but I really did, Steve,” she shrugged her shoulders.

Steve’s face flipped through a arrange of emotions. His eyebrows were pulled together. He held her arms, ran his thumbs across the knitted fabric of her sweater.

“I—you’re a good person. You’re a lovely person. You’re strangely kind and helpful and charming and accepting. And I guess I was too stubborn to accept that because of the stupid little gifts you sent me or because you’re so easy to get along with and I was trying so hard to hate you. You’re so easy to love, do you know that?” She looked into his eyes with that same intensity he was so intimated by when he first met her.

He placed a hand over her cheek, smoothed over the curve of it.

She was incredible. It was way past time to tell her that.

He kissed her. It’d better the best damn kiss she’d ever received, he’d make sure of that.

He’d give her anything she wanted. He’d give her the world. He kissed her forehead and felt her laugh. He beamed.

But she shivered. He remembered he pulled up at a late hour and that it was nearly winter at this point. He took off his jacket and urged her to lift her arms up.

“What? You’re gonna dress me up like a little kid?” she crossed her arms and tried not to grin.

“Yeah! C’mon, let me take care of you,” he gently forced her arm into the sleeve and into the other one. His mom tendencies jumped out in moments like this—it was something she missed about him but didn’t realize until now.

They were back together, working in syncopation. Their little world was whole.

  —————✨

Next August, the girl was packing in her room, figuring out what was important enough to bring with her to her dorm. She folded piles of laundry and towels to stuff into her suitcase. She nestled a neon-colored bag of toiletries in the corner of the towels.

She paperclipped photographs of her family in a brand-new journal. She carefully wrapped photobooth pictures of her and Steve in some embroidered handkerchiefs, ones given to her by her aunties. Robin took polaroid photos of Steve and her goofing off in Family Video and she stuck those in her mirror frame. She took them off. She’d give those ones to Steve.

She paused. She found some old love song lyrics from Steve in her photo box. Back when the whole thing had first happened. She found his movie review with the hand-drawn stars rating.

She ran her finger over his handwriting, scribbly in blue ink but legible enough to her.

She would save that, too.

 She hugged her parents and grandma good-bye and pulled in Bianca for a side-hug. Her dad and Steve loaded her luggage into Steve’s car. The school was only under an hour’s car ride from Hawkins. Y/N remembered her cassette tapes last minute and rushed to grab them, preparing to force Steve to listen to her eccentric music taste.

 Steve and the girl kissed goodbye after moving her into the dorm. They held onto each other like they would never see each other again in this life, but really, it was just a drive on the highway every few weeks to her school. Yeah, he’d be a long-distance boyfriend, but he was gonna make sure he’d be the best for her. He promised to call and write.

It was not the end, but more of a beginning.

[skullrock]

headcanon - Steve as a Dad

request: Assuming that this is possible if he doesnt get killed off, can you give me some headcanons of present day steve as an actual dad? With his own kids? How is he with them?

warnings: none!

a/n: this request ruined me and its literally ALL I have been thinking about. duffer bros just look at the possibilities.... do not kill this man off. let him have a daughter I am begging u .... also made this more Steve centric than reader centric bc sometimes u just gotta focus on our boi 

===

Steve never really thought about being a dad until he was one

after he became a dad, he decided it was the greatest honor of his life

he loved his kid more than life itself and he vowed to never be like his father

Steve would always offer to take care of the baby in the middle of the night

and even though he was sleep deprived to the max, he just wanted to be close to them

he also loves singing his baby lullabies!!! from little nursery rhyme ones to singing inappropriate songs, he just loved to sing

when he’s at work, all he can think about is his little family and how much he misses them

he keeps pictures of them in his wallet and pretty much shows every single person them

when his child is growing up, Steve makes sure to do all the stereotypical dad stuff

catch? absolutely

teaching them how to ride a bike? you bet

arts and crafts? Steve wasn’t super great at them but he would always offer to help his little girl make things

also he definitely has tea parties with his kids and sticks his pinky out - “it’s sophisticated”

he is also a sucker - he will buy them anything they want, much to the chagrin of his partner

but he does it anyway because he thinks they should be spoiled!

Steve definitely stays up super late with them and ends up falling asleep while reading them a bedtime story or playing games

he’s really good at warding off the monsters, especially since he’s done it before

and because of this, he’s very protective and vigilant around them

he gently explains to his kid(s) about the evil in the world but promises he’s always there to protect them

(he wants to show them the bat but decides not to)

Steve packs them the COOLEST lunches since he’s so good at cooking and baking

everyone is always really jealous of the lunches he packs and sometimes Steve packs extra for their friends

someone’s birthday in class? he’s baking brownies god dammit

Steve’s certifiably cool and everyone wants him to be their dad

he also definitely casually adopts children who don’t have good parents, and he definitely makes sure everyone is taken care of

Steve’s also the type of dad to make his kids wear their helmets and knee pads while riding their bikes

he likes to act very laid back but when his kids are gone be bites his nails, worried that they’ll get hurt

but his partner always ensures them that he’s a good dad who raised them right - they aren’t hooligans like Mike, Dustin, Will, and Lucas used to be

Steve gets frustrated when he can’t help his kids with their homework so he learns their material when he has the time and practically teaches it to them, learning something himself in the process

If he has a son, he definitely makes sure to give him proper, good advice about women - he doesn’t want his son to be like he was 

If he has a daughter, he makes sure she knows to value herself and not give in to dumb boys (”trust me, I know the game they’re playing, they aren't worth it”)

Steve’s also the kind of dad who would let his kids drink and smoke in high school but only in the house - “I'd rather you do it here where you’re safe” (cue eye rolls)

when the kids grow up and enter high school everyone has a crush on their dad

Steve’s the PROUDEST dad alive when they graduate

you KNOW he brings a huge fuckin video recorder to the stadium and cries his eyes out - like, all you can hear is the announcer saying their name and then Steve wailing and shouting “that’s my kid!”

he doesn’t pressure them to do anything they don’t want to do - if college isn’t for them, that’s fine! he’s there to support them no matter what

and when they get into college he weeps for a week straight

and you KNOW he buys those sweaters that say “PITT DAD” “PROUD OF MY BEAR” etc 

like, completely decked out in college gear

he’s really invested in his kid’s futures and their happiness

he definitely comes to their games, their musicals, WHATEVER they do

and he is always asking questions about their major and what they’re learning

he gives his kids space when they grow up but he gets really sad that they aren’t around

but he's always there for them, investing in their futures and making sure they’re happy

he just loves his family okay!!!

===

taglist (join here!): @harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @gothackedalready @wolfish-willow @sassisaluxury @willowrose99 @harringtown @m-blasterrr @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl​ @the-almond-dinger​ @ssanjuniperoo​ @darth-el​ @sourapplebaby​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @andyl394​ @astil-be​ @troop-scoop​ @ilovebucketbarnes @with-a-little-bit-of-light​

[heckin-harrington]

Bandaids / s.h.

“Hello! Yes, i’m in school, but this idea was keeping me up all night. How about an imagine (or whatever you see fit) where the reader gets injured, maybe by a Demodog, and Steve helps clean up her wounds? I just thought that’d be a great opportunity for fluff. I’m a hoe for Steve, too”

Request?: YES!! MY LOVE @mileven-353 Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (f) Warnings: swearing and fluff! Words: 1110

“I said stay on the bus, dammit!” Steve exclaimed as you ran out by his side, the party shouting at the two of you from the bus. You gripped the handle of Dustin’s hockey stick you stole giving Steve a strong glare.

“I wanna help!” You told him, taking a swing at a demodog that lunged at you guys. “I can do this, Steve! I’m not a child!” Lucas scoffed from the bus. You rolled your eyes standing back to back with the taller boy.

Steve swung his bat around in his hands. “Stay by me. Do NOT leave my side, do you understand?” He ordered, looking back at you over his shoulder before whacking another demodog to the ground. You nodded planting your feet as you stiffened your stance.

“Y/N! Duck!” Max warned from the bus. You were too late. The demodog pounced off of one of the abandoned cars and straight onto you, pushing you back onto the ground. You tried to push it off, the hockey stick holding the beast above you, it’s claws snapping the wood and sinking into your shoulders. You screamed out in pain as Steve quickly turned and hit the demodog with his bat sending it flying into the side of the bus.

As other dogs cleared out going towards the sound, Steve crouched down at your side as you lay in the dew covered grass sobbing as your shirt soaked up your blood. “Dustin! Bring me my backpack, hurry!”

Dustin quickly scrambled out of the bus and Steve snatched his bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a spare t-shirt. He looked at you, worry flooding his glossy brown eyes. “I-I gotta take off your shirt. Is that-”

“Just d-do it already, Harrington. I don’t g-give a shit.” You muttered through staggered breaths. Steve nodded frantically, pulling your ripped top off of your body and pressing it to one shoulder and his extra shirt to the other.

“Scale of one to ten, how much does it hurt?” He asked, pressing the already blood-soaked shirts down on your wounds as you hissed at the sharp pain the pressure supplied.

“Ten.” You managed to say, Steve’s expression falling. “I’m taking you straight to the Byers’.” He told you, picking you up bridal style his hair falling into his eyes. “Lucas, contact Hopper. Keep me updated.” Lucas nodded, turning on his Walkie-Talkie and channeling the chief.

The whole drive to the Byers’ home was dreadful. Steve was making sure to drive as safely but as quickly as possible, which didn’t help much considering how bumpy the shitty Indiana roads were.

You praised when you finally pulled up to the small house, Hopper’s truck being out front alongside Jonathan’s car. Steve parked behind Jonathan and helped you out of the car, his arm wrapped around your waist as he helped you walk inside. 

“Oh my goodness, get her in here. Quickly,” Joyce gasped out when she saw your state. Mike stood up from the couch, Dustin placing a hand on his shoulder telling him that you’d be okay. “What happened?” Joyce sniffed. You and Steve chose not to ask why.

“One of those things got her.” Steve shared, Joyce flinched. You raised an eyebrow as you sat on top of the counter, Joyce digging around her kitchen cabinets for a first aid kit. 

“I got it, go sit down.” Hopper told the mousy woman, his hand resting on her waist and the other holding a small plastic box. Joyce opened her mouth the protest but Hopper gave her a look which made her nod and turn down the hall to her room. Jim sighed and made his way over to where you and Steve were settled.

Steve held your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. His thumb ran over the top of yours, comforting you the best he could. “What happened, Hop?” You questioned as he poured some cleansing alcohol onto a cotton pad.

“Bob didn’t make it. The same thing with you, just--just not as lucky, kid.” Hopper muttered before looking into your eyes. “This is gonna sting like hell. Just don’t hit me or anything.” You nodded, tightening your grip on Steve’s hand.

Hopper pressed the cotton to one of your cuts making you jolt. “FUCK! SHIT THAT HURTS!” Your eyes welled up with tears and Steve frowned, cupping your cheek and shushing you quietly.

“Breathe, babe. Just take deep breaths.” He cooed. “I can take it from her, Hops.” Steve took the cotton pad from Hopper who placed his hat on the kitchen table and went to talk to Joyce. “Want me to distract you?” He offered.

You scoffed and flinched at the stinging feeling in your shoulder. “Now’s n-not the time for your sexual desires, Steve.” He chuckled and shook his head, wetting a new piece of cotton and wiping off your other shoulder.

“I was thinking like jokes or singing or something, ya nasty.” Steve smiled as he looked up at you. You forced a pained smile and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his your noses brushing against each other.

“Sing for me?” You mumbled under your breath as Steve threw away the now red cotton pad and closed the lid on the alcohol bottle. He nodded, searching for the gause and wound tape, only finding rainbow bandages. He sighed at his findings and grabbed three of Joyce’s dishtowels, tossing one over his shoulder and folded the other two.

“Of course, baby girl.” Steve smiled small. He quietly sang along to REO Speedwagon’s Keep On Lovin’ You. You hummed contently as Steve sang, placing a towel on one shoulder, pulled athletic tape from his backpack, and wrapped the tape around the towel on your shoulder repeating the process on your other one.

“ Baby, I'm gonna keep on loving you. 'Cause it's the only thing I wanna do.” Steve sang softly taking off his Members Only jacket and placing it on you. “I don't want to sleep,” He smiled small his lips brushing against yours.

“I just want to keep on lovin' you.” You finished the song before kissing him, melting into his embrace. Steve smiled against your lips, cupping your cheek and pressing his lips back to yours.

“Hey! Enough making out in the kitchen! This is too much PDA.” Max groaned annoyingly from the living room. Steve didn’t bother to pull away. He flipped off the redhead who scoffed, flipping her hair dramatically. Steve pulled you closer to him and you sighed happily.

“Thanks for saving me.” You mumbled against Steve’s lips. He shook his head, pulling away to look at you fondly.

“I always will, babe.”

gOOD GOD, I LOVED WRITING THIS :’) I hope you like it, sweetheart! <3

screw it, i’m posting this early ;)

MASTERLIST

[strangerthingsreads]

Red Face Mask

Summary: Steve is over at your house to watch a movie with Dustin when he walks in on you dancing without you realizing it.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson! Reader

Word Count: 1,188 

Author’s Note: this is my first post on tumblr so please don’t be too harsh on me. i promise it will get better over time. P.S. comments make me so happy and i love feedback. 

Warnings: Language 

You didn’t hear the knock on the door or the frantic ringing of the doorbell that followed the knock, you were too busy getting ready for Steve to come over. Dustin had told you an hour ago that Steve was coming and you were elated. You hum happily and nonchalantly apply your favorite face mask as love songs play on the stereo in your room. Little did you know that the very boy you were getting ready for was the one pounding impatiently at the door. 

You got dragged into the whole Upside Down mess a couple of months ago. You were looking for Mews only to find her bloody carcass on the floor of Dustin’s room. After tracking down Dustin in front of the Wheeler house and asking him to explain what the hell happened to your mother’s beloved cat, the next thing you knew, a bouquet of red roses was pushed into your hands by  Dustin as he demanded that you and Steve help him with catching Dart. 

You always thought that Steve was a douche. Especially when he and his disgusting friends wrote all the terrible things about Nancy at the movie theater. You didn’t want to fall for Steve, but how could you help yourself? Seeing Steve going above and beyond to protect you and the kids, you couldn’t help but foster a crush on him. In the little amount of time that you and Steve were helping the party find Dart and stop him and his slimy comrades, you had managed to see the soft side of him, the side you fell head over heels for. 

You slowly migrate to your bedroom Dustin practically flies to the door, wishing the irritating ringing would stop. 

“You dipshit! Don’t you have any patience?” Dustin says as he opens the door 

“No, I don’t. It’s cold outside and I like to be warm.” Steve says walking inside

“Maybe I want you to freeze.” 

Steve sticks up his middle finger as he walks into the kitchen to open the box of pizza sitting on the counter. Dustin rolls his eyes and runs to his room to find the VHS of the movie he rented to watch that night. Grabbing the pizza, Steve notices something he had never noticed before, it was a beautiful picture of Y/N laughing with Dustin in the kitchen, standing over a tray of cookies, covered in flour. 

God, can anyone look that beautiful covered in flour and sticky dough?

Steve couldn’t remember when he fell for Y/N. Maybe it was when she rammed one of Steve’s bats into a Demodog’s head in order to protect everyone. Maybe it was when she immediately ran to the kids, to check if they were ok. Maybe it was when she stepped in front of Steve protectively as Billy Hargrove shouted their names, walking up to Will’s house. All he knew was that he fell for Y/N Henderson and he fell hard. She is the strongest, smartest, kindest, most awesome girl that Steve has ever known. Ok maybe it’s a little cheesy but he can’t help but get cheesy when it comes to Y/N. 

“Sure Steve, eat my sister’s pizza, it’s not like she’ll completely flip if she sees that a slice is gone,” Dustin said sarcastically, breaking Steve out of his trance.

“Wait. Y-Y/N is here?” Steve says, immediately looking around for Y/N. 

“This is her house too you dumbass.” 

Oh y-yeah, sometimes I forget that you two are related.” 

“Why, is it cause I’m ten times cooler than she will ever be?” Dustin says popping the non-existent collar of his shirt. 

Steve scoffs, ready to contradict Dustin’s statement, but before he can, Dustin interrupts him.

“She’s watching the movie with us by the way. Just in case you need proof of her existence.” 

“Sh-She is?”

“Do I need to repeat myself? This is her house too. She said she didn’t have anything to do this weekend so I asked her if she wanted to join, she said yes.”

Oh, God. No no no no. Y/N can’t join us. I’m not ready. Do I look ok? How’s my hair? Dammit, where’s the bathroom?!

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” Steve asks, more flustered than he has ever been

“Uh, you’ve been to my house, what, 9 times in the past month and you don’t know where the bathroom is?” 

“Down the hall to my right. Yeah sorry, I forgot for a second.” 

Steve rushes to the bathroom, praying that Dustin still has his Farrah Fawcett spray. As Steve frantically gropes at his hair, he hears music emanating from somewhere. Slowly, he walks out of the bathroom and further into the hall. He passes Dustin’s dimly lit room and realizes the music is coming from Y/N’s room. Approaching the room with extreme caution, Steve peers into his crush’s room. What he sees only furthers the depth of his crush on Y/N. 

There you are, eyes closed, hands gripping onto an invisible dance partner, waltzing around your room. A soft smile is plastered on Steve’s face as he watches you cutely dance around your room, a red face mask on your face.

As the song progresses, you start to sing along to the song, imagining Steve gripping onto your waist as you hold onto his shoulder and hand. Just as the song comes to a slow stop, you hear Dustin scream from downstairs for Steve to come to the living room. Steve? Your eyes pop open and you are filled with instant regret. 

There is a startled Steve Harrington standing at your door, his head turned towards the living room.  

“I’m fucking coming!” Steve yells

Oh my goodness. What do I do? Steve is at my door. I’m wearing a baggy shirt and a red face mask. I look disgusting. Wait. Did he see me dancing? Shit shit shit. Hide Y/N. Hide. 

Embarrassed as hell, you dive onto the floor, hidden by your bed. You grab the wet towel resting on your bed and hurriedly wipe the red face mask of your face and undo the bun resting atop your head. 

“Y/N? Y/N? Where did you go.” You hear Steve call out to you. 

Oh God. He probably thinks I’m the weirdest person ever. 

“Here. Hey Steve.” You stand reluctantly as you hesitantly wave at the adorable boy leaning against your door. 

“Why did you take off the face mask? I really liked it.” he says, the smirk growing on his lips. 

“You saw me dancing, didn’t you? I’m really weird, I kn-”

“I think you’re a great dancer Y/N. Actually, I regret not asking you to da-”

“The movie is starting shitheads!” you hear Dustin holler from the couch. 

“You’re going to join us for the movie right?” 

“Yeah, just let me fix myself, I’ll be right there.”

You let out a sigh as Steve winks and walks away from your room. The second, you move to go and properly wash the face mask off your face, Steve pops right back into your room. 

“For your information Y/N, you looked fucking adorable in the red face mask.”