#a little different but Steve and Robin

[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore and have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who are the same. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouting really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[unfinishedslurs]

child lost in the grocery store (platonic stobin)

“Oh no no no no no,” Robin says, panicked. “Don’t cry, tiny child. Please don’t cry, oh God you’re crying, uh…Steve!” 

He rounds the aisle. “They’re out of Dustin’s favorite cereal,” he says sourly, before his eyes fall on the crying child Robin is kneeling by, and he raises his eyebrows. 

Help, she pleads with her eyes, and he sighs, setting the boxes he’s holding in the cart and crouching down next to them. 

“Hey there,” he greets warmly, so calm and caring it makes Robin want to throw herself into his arms and sob. “What’s wrong?”

The kid just shakes her head. 

Steve takes it with grace. “This is my friend Robin, I came here with her. Did you come here with anyone?”

“M-m-my mommy,” she blubbers. “But she’s gone.”

The sentence ends in a drawn out wail that makes her want to simultaneously hold the poor kid and slam her own head into a wall. Steve widens his eyes in sympathy. 

“That’s not good. Do you know where you last saw her?”

She shakes her head no again, and Robin stares at him, silently pleading for him to make the kid stop crying. 

He rolls his eyes at her before turning back to the kid. “That’s okay,” he soothes. “It happens sometimes. I bet she’s just as worried as you are right now. Do you want help finding her?”

A small nod, and she finally looks up, enough that Robin can see her big, bloodshot eyes. Are kids' eyes really just that big? They’re like tiny little aliens. 

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Steve says confidently enough that both she and the kid relax. “We’ll go to the checkout with the nice lady, okay? And we’ll wait there for your mommy. That’s rule one of getting lost in the store, always go to the front desk.”

“Really?”

He smiles down at her, beginning to straighten up. “Oh, yeah. Sometimes I still have to do it, and I always find who I’m looking for.” He offers a hand, and the kid clings to it like he’s her last lifeline on earth. 

“What if she’s not there?” 

“Well,” he says, starting to walk towards the desk. Robin hurries to fall into step with them, and he smiles at her. “If she doesn’t come by the desk, my friend here will go find her, and tell her where you are.” He lowers his voice conspiringly. “She can be really loud.”

“Hey!” Robin protests, and the kid giggles. Giggles. If she were in any way, shape, or form attracted to men, she’d kiss him on the mouth. 

“Do you wanna tell me your name now?”

“It’s Jess!”

“Jess, huh? Short for Jessica?” She nods. “It’s a pretty name, it suits you.”

“Thank you,” she says shyly, pulling her dark hair in front of her mouth. 

“My name is Steve, this is my friend Robin.”

Jess perks up, even though Steve had introduced her earlier. Poor girl probably had bigger things to worry about. “Like the bird?”

“Exactly like the bird.” He grins. “Do you like robins, Jess?” Apparently Jess is really into birds. In the short time it takes to get to the counter, Robin has found out that robins hop on the ground to make worms think it’s raining, that you should feed ducks seeds instead of bread, and Jess’s favorite kind of bird is a woodpecker.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

🪱🧠 Wiggly Wednesday 🧠🪱

this week, i was tagged by @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @steddieas-shegoes, and @matchingbatbites!

this is one that i’ve had in my head for a LOONNNG time now, way before the song got big, even before @melonalemonade’s Zteevposting, so it’s always been Djo and Caroline BUT:

steve, robin, and eddie who all move to chicago together after vecna.

eddie, who gets offered a contract after a show sometime after they’ve arrived and before the thing between him and steve becomes something, and leaves to LA to fulfil the contact.

i’m my head it’s angsty; eddie and steve’s something becoming a Something™ the night before eddie leaves… a fact he doesn’t tell steve.

the record label squeezes two mediocre albums out of him and his image and eddie comes back to chicago, starts working as a gig manager for the same club/bar he got his not so great break at.

he hasn’t spoken to steve or robin in all the time he was gone (not that he necessarily didn’t want to, but could a) never drum up the balls to try calling steve, and b) didn’t want to incur the wrath of robin by calling her).

so he works. he pulls in some gigs with real promise, but a lot of duds.

one night, he gets to the club halfway through the set time of tonight’s act, one that his assistant signed up, and decides to look in on them after going through his paperwork for the evening. (you can’t say he isn’t a responsible part-owner)

there’s just one person on stage, wait, nope. two. one at the mic with a guitar and one out of the spotlight at a keyboard.

“Okay—for this next one.. I gotta tell you, it’s weird being back in this town.” the man on mic says, his oddly fake-looking mustache scrunching with a smirk. His voice is oddly familiar…

“I lived here a good couple years ago now, and things going to shit is what started all this.” he gestures around to the stage and crowd. “So, here’s one for you, Chicago.”

he pushes a loose hair of his.. wig?? (wig and mustache?? really?) out of his face and starts to play.

the tune is good. really good. really really good. so good that he is blindly waving down his assistant for the artist’s info.

he doesn’t take his eyes off the man on stage.

eddie sees a foot in a strikingly familiar blue adidas shoe press onto a pedal in front of him (weird)

the man rolls his shoulder around his a familiar way when sings about being in chicago at 24 (isn’t that about how old he and steve were when—)

a pice of paper is shoved into his hand; the artist’s name is Djo. (“Like Joe.” his assistants note says beside the name.) damn, does everything have to remind him of steve tonight? his middle name was Joseph. (coincidence)

Djo sings about the end to a beginning. Eddie knows how that feels.. (hang on…)

He sings about someone named Caroline encouraging him, and Eddie thinks of how much he teased Robin about her middle name being the same (hold the fuck on??)

it takes Eddie all three of Djo’s “You take the man out of the city, not the city out the man.”s for him to be sure.

That’s Steve up there on that stage.

And he’ll be damned if he misses this chance.

[imthursdaysyme]

Stobin and their fall haircuts

[devondespresso]

i was reading a scoops era steddie au where eddie visits scoops often and one thing i noticed i alway want but have yet to see (bear in mind my fic pallette is basically just shit i see on Tumblr and occasionally reading every fic a certain author has written) is a specific scene of eddie noticing stobins missing when he goes to visit them at scoops the day theyre stuck in the bunker. cause they entered the bunker after a shift one night and didn't get out until at the soonest the next afternoon right before the mall closes so if either or both of them were scheduled to work then they'd be just... gone.

and how characters around them handle that depends on how soon (if at all) they're declared missing. did robin think they'd be in-and-out in their snooping and tell her parents shes be back a little late or did she think they'd be out kinda late fucking around and just lied to her parents telling them shes sleeping over at a friend's like how we know tina was going to cover for erica? did mrs Henderson freak out when Dustin didn't bike back home (knowing what happened with will) or did she know he was with steve and trusted that they were goofing off or something?

and usually i see Steve's parents not being home but what if they were?? they could panic because steve always has some sort of excuse for why hes gone or maybe just his mom starts worrying because while his dad never really asks about him she does and she knows hes probably not at some girls house right now because he at least would have told her. or maybe mrs harrington doesn't know her son as well as she thinks she does and assumes he is out at some girls house and is relieved hes finally getting to be more like himself.

maybe just one or two people in scoops troop are reported missing that night and maybe the search started for them is enough for the other's parents or friends to realize they're all missing. maybe none of them are because they each already had a coverup with the people who'd notice. maybe they spent a good few hours in that elevator regretting lying about where they'd be because now no one knows they're in danger and by the time they start looking it could be too late (obviously erica didn't seem to grasp this yet but shes literally 10 and it's definitely her fist severely traumatic life or death experience. for the others tho it could definitely be on their minds and i have seen a few fics where robin wonders about how steve and Dustin are reacting like they've done scary shit like this before together)

then morning comes and id give it until lunch with no calls or anything before parents who believed their kids were sleeping over to start worrying seriously. maybe they call the friend their child's supposedly with and get a confused parent saying they haven't seen them or maybe they get the friend picking up and confirming they're fine (like tina). but if Mrs Henderson gets worried and calls steve she'll either get the harringtons saying he isn't home right now or she won't be able to reach him. and knowing steves like a big brother and a best friend to dustin knows that if steve missing too he's probably at least missing with him and goes to the station worried about them both

and then theres the fact that scoops has to open in the morning, probably sometime around 10am. maybe steve and robin were scheduled to both work again and as 10am comes and passes scoops ahoy hasn't been touched. maybe some mall manager calls the scoops manager (forgive me ive never worked in a mall but i do work in a store-within-a-store and we have our own manager plus the big store manager) and asks where their employees are. if missing persons reports were filed that last night then the manager would be really worried while frantically trying to find someone to cover for them. but maybe no one knows they're missing yet and their manager is grumbling about their no-shows, maybe considering firing them for both disappearing without even calling out. depending on how much they know and if the reports were filed, whoever has to cover their shifts is either worried about their coworkers (probably moreso robin than steve because of his reputation) or utterly pissed that they both didn't show and they have to open scoops ahoy with a few hours delay and probably a good few karens bitching about being closed. or maybe one or the other was scheduled and while their no-show is really inconvenient at least someone's there to open and ask for backup

and then theres steves car still parked in the back where it was the day before. a bike left behind at the mall is less eyebrow-raising but a fancy car? Steve Harrington's car? Steve Harrington who was scheduled to work today but somehow isn't in scoops right now? is he skipping work while simultaneously wandering around his workplace? and whats worse is despite evidence being there *no one can find him*. maybe thats what it takes for people to realize hes like actually missing. maybe they think he was kidnapped, hopefully he just went home with some girl and lost track of time.

and then theres eddie. eddie whos been stopping by scoops for a while now. maybe he still doesn't really like Harrington but likes teasing him with Buckley or maybe they've gotten pretty close. maybe they're already dating. maybe eddie walks up to scoops one morning to find it closed or to find that one or the other didn't show up for work this morning. maybe he hears from the worker that ones missing or maybe they get a rant about how pissed the worker is to be opening alone. maybe he's the one to go to a mall manager or security officer worried about scoops being closed because he *knows* the people that are supposed to be there right now and they don't just abandon work at the same time with no explanations.

or maybe eddie visits in the afternoons and learns they're missing from their coworkers or maybe hes there because he saw it on the news and went on his our hunt. either way it'd probably end with Eddie looking around the mall for them because he knows steve isn't going to just abandon his beemer in a busy public parking lot. maybe he finds them high out of their minds while checking the movie theatre (this one i do see a lot and am obsessed with its so good) or maybe he doesn't find them at all (its a big mall and they are actively hiding from Russians who know they escaped. sure stobin are not being very secretive while high but dustin and erica are at least keeping them in less-discoverable locations). maybe he goes home knowing hes looked everywhere in that damn mall and assumes they're probably kidnapped and taken somewhere else (if he did find them tho that opens a whole can of worms for if, how, and how much eddie gets involved and while my brains gone down sone of those rabbit holes i don't think i will today)

and then they see the news about the mall fire. and eddie knows damn well that he looked everywhere in that mall but didn't see a trace of his friends but there they are on the news and apparently in the fire. maybe eddie assumes he didn't look hard enough. but maybe he sees how steves the only one with more than a few bruises on his legs, how despite them claiming he was trapped in rumble that also allegedly killed billy hargrove he looks like hes carrying himself on adrenaline alone and hovering around robin and the kids like something more than falling support beams could get to them. maybe its the fact that he look as shit as he did but wasn't laying down on a hospital stretcher like he would be if he just got those wounds.

_._._._

hi if you saw any typos no you didn't UNLESS theyre funny or actually concerning then you should tell me and i can react appropriately

also i swear i feel like doctor strange looking through every possible reality when i go on tangents like this. idk whenever i come up with little fics in my head or come up with different ways my favorite unfinished fics could end im always exploring as many different versions of the same scenario as i can and coming up with as many what-ifs as i can.

also i pressed the poll button by accident while making this and idk how to make it go away to we're trying just ignoring it and not writing anything in it to see if it goes away

actually fuck that it probably wont work so im adding a poll question as a treat for the people who read this far

[nburkhardt]

Dustin is Steve’s favorite kid, favorite person really.

He doesn’t think anyone actually believes him when it’s known. Thinks it’s a joke, that Steve is messing with Dustin. But it really is true, Steve isn’t afraid to admit that ever.

Of all my thoughts last night while high, this was the only one I managed to keep. Which I fully believe by the way.

(this is also still true after he gets his platonic soulmate)

[laundrybiscuits]

(purify our misfit ways tag)

“Wait,” says Steve. “That’s Eddie? Your boyfriend Eddie?”

Robin gags theatrically. “Ew, gross. Not my boyfriend, just a friend.”

Steve frowns. “Gross is kinda harsh. He’s the only guy you ever talk about, how was I supposed to know he’s not your boyfriend?”

“Uh, by maybe not assuming that I can’t just have a non-boyfriend friend who’s a boy? Or that I have to have a boyfriend at all in the first place? It’s not harsh for me not to want to date him.”

“Sure, whatever. Go ahead and live your sexless nerd life all you want.” Steve rolls his eyes, and Robin was right the first time, he really is a douchebag. She can’t believe she thought any differently, even for a moment.

“So, what’s up with the guy who’s not your boyfriend? Like, what’s his deal?”

Robin regards him narrowly. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, god. Am I not allowed to ask questions?”

“Steve Harrington,” says Robin. “You have been shockingly un-terrible so far. And I do mean shockingly. Every single time we have a shift together and you’re not the absolute scum of the earth, it is a shock to my system from which I will never truly recover. I might even risk permanent nerve damage and acknowledge that you have successfully achieved the rank of my least hated coworker, if only because Gordon is a total creep and Jenny doesn’t even pretend to clean up after herself. Despite this momentous achievement: if you start harassing Eddie, I swear on my life I will end you. There will be nothing left but a faint whiff of Aqua Net lingering in the air.”

“I’m not gonna—harass him! Or anyone! Jeez, Robin!”

Steve crosses his arms, sulking, because he’s a giant baby. Robin does feel a miniscule twinge of guilt, because she wasn’t lying; she’ll die before admitting it, but the last couple weeks working with Steve have been almost—fun, kind of. He’s still a dingus who screws up all the time, but he lets her boss him around without complaining or challenging her in some dumb boy way, and he has the kind of acid-tongued apathy towards the general public that normally takes years of social exile to develop. He actually laughs at her jokes most of the time, even when they’re mean.

But…Eddie’s being admittedly extremely weird, and she knows where her loyalties lie. She’ll be damned if she lets anyone scent weakness, no matter how much they may or may not have changed since high school.

“Just leave Eddie alone, okay?” she says. “He got enough of your shit at school.”

“I don’t even remember him from school,” whines Steve. “The hell are you talking about?”

“You didn’t remember me, either,” says Robin.

She remembers him, though. Everyone remembers Steve Harrington, whether they want to or not. Big house, no parents. Walked through the halls like there was a carpet rolled out in front of him, some girl on his arm and his sycophants milling.

The surge of vicious satisfaction she feels at the sight of him now, trapped behind a counter and dressed like a joke for minimum wage, is strong enough to make her pause. She knows this one: schadenfreude. Joy in others’ misfortune.

This isn’t who she wants to be.

She goes over to lean against the counter next to him.

“Listen, you’ll be out of here in the fall, right? Before you know it, Hawkins will just be a weird, distant memory. I’m sure your first college kegstand will propel you to all-new heights of popularity.”

“I’m, uh.” Steve looks away, scratching at his jaw. “I’m actually just. Taking some time right now. Figuring out my next moves, you know.”

“In Hawkins?” Robin stares at him incredulously. If she had to take a gap year, she’d—well, actually, she might need to take a gap year in Hawkins to save up if she can’t get enough financial aid. There’s no way Steve Harrington’s doing that, though.

“Aren’t you, like, rich?” she blurts out. She would be the worst spy in the entire world, god. “I mean, aren’t your parents paying for college?”

Steve’s still not looking at her. “They, uh, kinda cut me off. I’m not—I don’t know if I’m going to college. Might not be for me. Like I said, I’m just…figuring things out right now.”

“Um, okay,” she says. Robin’s getting that itchy feeling she gets sometimes, when it seems like people around her are having a totally different conversation than the one they’re having with their actual voices. It’s like trying to translate something from a new language, except she doesn’t have a dictionary or any guidebooks, just a torrent of meaning locked away where she can’t reach. And that would be fine, she likes figuring that kind of puzzle out in other contexts, but everyone else seems to be totally fluent in the silent language while Robin’s struggling to follow along at the slowest possible pace, and—

Oh. Steve didn’t get into college.

“What about technical school?” she says, before her brain can really catch up. “I mean—um, I just mean, like, if you’re not sure if the traditional college thing is for you, I know some people who—they prefer technical college. As an alternative.” Why can’t she ever, ever shut up? Steve doesn’t want to talk about this, she knows he doesn’t want to talk about this.

He drags his hand through his hair, dislodging the stupid sailor hat, and huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t sound happy. “Don’t think that’s for me either.”

And sure, if she’d actually stopped to think about it for a second, she might’ve been able to guess that in a place like Hawkins, even being captain of the swim team probably isn’t enough to snag a sports scholarship, and there’s no way Steve’s grades are even remotely okay. He’s just always seemed like the kind of guy who was going somewhere, who had a golden future, and she’d hated him a little bit for that.

So: Steve Harrington, high school graduate. Sure. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, obviously. Robin actually does know plenty of people who didn’t go to college. But almost all of those people are her parents’ flower-child friends who wanted to explore the world and do drugs and make art, not polo-clad jocks who don’t seem to even be aware that there’s a world outside Hawkins. It’s taking her a second to adjust.

“Yeah, I don’t think Eddie’s doing the college thing either,” she says. It’s an apology, though she hopes he doesn’t take it that way.

“He’s not?” says Steve, blinking as if the very notion of Eddie voluntarily submitting to higher education wasn’t completely laughable.

“I think he’s probably going to be a famous rockstar or something someday. He’s, like, crazy good on the guitar, you should hear him play.”

“Sure,” snorts Steve. “Tell you what, if we’re ever in the same room for more than two seconds, I’ll listen to whatever he’s got.”

(ETA: First chapter of this fic has been edited/expanded and posted on AO3)

[the-lark-ascending69]

If Robin were a boy she'd be everyone's favorite character but since she's a girl she only gets to be Steve's gay best friend.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

A slightly less average day in Family Video

A girl with shoulder length blond hair and a huge stack of tapes goes to the counter. Steve, who had wrongly assumed that Robin could handle herself for ten minutes, tries to intervene. It is in vain. He is aware that it is in vain, even as he sprints towards them. Tapes clatter behind him on the floor. Unfortunately the noise is not enough to dissuade the innocent customer, who barely even pauses on her way to the ticking time bomb that is Robin Buckley.

He feels like in a movie, everything around him suddenly moving in an excrutiatingly slow pace. He is the only one who can see the incoming disaster, and yet there is nothing he can do but watch. Watch as Robin's lips twitch - not in the fun "I actually find your stupid joke hilarious but I refuse to laugh because it is so stupid and beneath me" way, but the decidedly more concerning "I am uncomfortable and overwhelmed someone get me out of this situation please". Watch as her nostrils start to flare in that particular way that means she is trying really hard not to burst into tears.

Oh dear.

Needless to say, the blonde does not take any of the tapes home with her. Steve watches in envy as she exits the shop. Ah, to be a free spirit, able to escape his soulmate's laments with no guilt or remorse or consequences. But alas, he has been cursed with a bleeding heart, a guilt complex the size of Indiana and a useless lesbian. And so, instead of doing the reasonable thing and escaping this hellscape, he goes towards the explosive variable. Dingus indeed.

"Hey, how about we take a break, huh?" Steve tries to recalls the rules about approaching wild animals - Dustin had a phase when he first got Dart. No loud noises. No sudden movements. Slow and steady. Take everything at the anima- at Robin's pace. (He'll have to tell her that one when she is less upset. She was literally named after a bird, so drunk on exhaustion Robin will find it absolutely and disproportinately hilarious)

He physically recoils when he catches a glimpse of Blondie's would-be haul. Dirty Dancing. The Princess Bride. Purple Rose of Cairo. Of all the days for a romcom movie night. At least Steve can rest assured that he isn't God's only favorite chewtoy. Isn't that what it means to be soulmates, after all? Doomed by forces beyond your comprehension together?

Steve looks at the evergrowing stack left behind on the counter (only one person managed to actually rent out the movies, and that was when Steve had sent Robin to her third break in two hours), the three movies still laying on the floor (please no one step on them please no one step on them by the love of god please nobody step on them) and prays nobody checks the security footage today as he leads Robin to what must be her sixth break. The shift is barely halfway over.

Now, Steve is neither a lesbian (he looks at boys a tad too long to only be interested in girls) nor a high school student (class '85 baby!). However, he is the unfortunate resident of a nosy and boring small town (seriously, fuck Hawkins), very aware of how draining it is to have to keep a big secret in said nosy and boring small town (if you think about it, are a person's sexuality and flesh-devouring monsters from a different dimension truly that different?), and has also morphed into one eldritch agglomeration with his bestest most favorite person of all times (Mike's words. Apparently the way he and Robin can read each other's minds is "freaky" or something), so he is very aware and sympathetic of their struggles and beliefs.

Such as this: the list of people you can cry on when your not-quite-girlfriend-but-definitely-something-more-than-friends-you-are-maybe-kind-of-in-love-with suddenly breaks it off is remarkably shorter than if said person was a boy. In Robin's case, the list is exactly one person long. Well, technically two, but it would be very awkward and painful to sob on the person who is the reason for your tears.

"It's s-s-so. So ssssstupid. I mean we were-weren't even a-an-any-anything. I don't know why I'm so u-up-up-p-p-pset"

Steve nods and rubs her back. He hopes his expression is as sympathetic and righteously mad on her behalf as the first time he heard the story.

"We used to kiss und-d-d-der the bleachers. The same b-b-b-bleachers we face whenevvvvvvver we p-p-p-practic-ssss-e in band. How am I sup-p-p-p-pposed to look at those stupid fucking b-b-b-leachers without thinking about her lips and her leeeegs and-"

"Such stupid bleachers", Steve dutifully agrees. He wonders whether one of the kids can maybe hack into the CCTV to delete the footage? Surely they can't be fired without any hard evidence, right? The last thing Robin needs right now is the inevitable stress that comes with job hunting.

"Howwww- how do you d-d-deal with it?!"

It takes a moment of Robin staring at him expectantly before he realizes that she went off-script and he is expected to actually answer her question. You know, like a proper sympathetic best friend and soulmate is supposed to act.

"How do I deal with what?"

"With the b-b-b-break-k-k-kkkk-kups? Me and her weeeeeeren't even-"

"Your emotions are valid" Steve shamelessly steals Robin's go-to saying whenever he is unreasonably upset about something stupid. She hits him, which is fair. Maybe he was being a little bit mocking about it. Sue him.

"It's like-", he pauses, searching for a more tactful way to say it. But then again, he has never been great at expressing himself and Robin always gets him anyways, so he just goes for it. "I mean. It's not like anyone is really upset after a breakup you know."

Robin blinks. Once. Twice.

"Wwww-wh-what?"

"I mean. You explained it to me. Sexism and all that shit. If a girl isn't upset and stuff she's called a slut. Boys don't have that, and they seem to always be fine. I mean, Tommy P. was making out with Alicia literally the same day he got dumped by Sarah. It's all just about peacocking and status and all that stupid stuff."

Maybe he was overestimating Robin's telepathic abilities, because she looks even more confused. "Sssso you just got together with all those girls because. What. It-t-tt was expect-ted of youuu?!"

Maybe Steve's own telepathic abilities are also failing him because like. Obviously?! What's the hang-up?

"So you decided yourrrrr girrrrrrrrrrlfriends based on what-t? Whether they were cheeeeeeer-cheerleaders?!"

"I mean. That's what everyone did, isn't it? Expectarions and all that crap." Steve starts wondering if maybe Robin has something stuck in her eye. "Like, of course I wouldn't start anything with someone if I didn't like them as a person. But the girls were cute, and making out is fun, and I like hanging out with them so like, why not. If it got boring after a while I just broke it off, no harm no foul."

"SSSSO YOU SST-sss-STAYED TOGETHER WITH HER UNTIL YOU FOUND A SHINIER NEW T-T-T-TOYYY?!"

"Hey, you don't need to say it like that. It's not like I was doing anything different from everyone else. Society is fucked, or whatever it is you always say."

A pause. "Steve.... if it sounds heartless....it's b-b-b-because it issss. I hate to say it but.... I don't thiiiiiink all of your girlfriends saw it the sa-sa-sa-same way you did. I mean, did you look at T-t-t-tammy? She looked devastated for wwwweeks. I remember I was so mad at you for that. You didn't even seem to not-t-t-t-t-no-notice."

Silence. It's Steve's turn to blink. Once. Twice. He starts to wonder if the thing Robin had stuck in her eye was knowledge. Or maybe tears. Regret?

"But. The slut thing-" "Steve. How did you feel about Nancy? Was it the same thing?" "No! It- I don't know. It was. She was- ...Oh."

In the quiet that follows, Steve swears he can hear his own heart crack in two.

"I mean, we weren't even together-together most of the time. Or some of the time, at least. Like-" (Robin, cheeks red from all the crying. "I mean, we weren't even anything". And maybe Steve didn't quite understand the reason for these tears, but he understood pain and he understood Robin so he held her close anyways)

"Wait Steve, no. I-I'm so- sorr-rrr-sorr-y"

And fuck. Isn't he an absolutely selfish and horrible person? Here he comes, finding out he hurt perfectly lovely girls, figuring out that the "heartbreaker" moniker is less a joke and more a warning, and then he has the audacity to feel hurt. He. Shame burbles up in his gut, multiplying until it comes leeking out of his eyes.

It's shameful and horrible. It is even more shameful and horrible because Robin is currently going through what they had probably felt, too. Tammy who loved singing to the radio. Layla who loved making friendship bracelets. Natasha who also had a love for basketball. He imagines them locked up in their rooms, trying to hold onto him even as they know it is fruitless, feeling like after that stupid halloween party - because of him. He wants to hurl.

And Robin, always overthinking, always overeager - Robin who is trying to nurse her own broken heart and doesn't understand what he is feeling but she understands pain and most importantly she understands him. Robin gives him a kiss on the forehead and holds him close.

"I shhhhhhouldn't have been so-so-so-ssssso harsh. I was frusssss-trated and I let it out on you I'm sorry."

Steve smiles sardonically. "My feelings are valid?" She flicks him on the forehead and laughs.

-> the gay crisis that wasn't

-> stobin partner tattoos (aka tramp stamp)

-> fighting the war on heteronormativity on the side of headache (ft. Tim Curry)

-> Hawkins has cryptids and they are movie snobs

[djosephqueery]

Steve and Robin feel like sitcom characters that somehow got stuck in an action horror series. They deserve a spinoff where they can just get up to funny little shenanigans

[drydak]

i shouldn’t post this probably. ok. people are not averse to shipping transfem steve with robin because (in this world) she’s a woman it’s because a. they are besties forever and ever we don’t need to make them romantic (and some of u can’t make that distinction even when u make them ‘platonic’) and b. they are fictional characters and the criticism is not applying to any actual trans women who date lesbians (which there is obviously nothing wrong with). you guys don’t know how to act with trans headcanons especially making characters trans women who are men in canon. it is weird to think that just because steve is a woman they would have to date. it also feels like you’re just making steve a woman just so they can date. examine if you actually have something meaningful or interesting to say through the vehicle of steve’s gender or if it’s really just a way to get around robin’s sexuality so you can make them date

[scoops-aboy86]

That dirty girl episode except it’s Steve calling Eddie a “dirty boy, absolutely filthy mouth on you, gonna keep you here forever” through a full mouth while Eddie alternates between sucking and cockwarming. It’s mostly tied to whether Steve is actuvely eating or not, but also sometimes Eddie gets distracted feeling over Steve’s hairy calves and thighs and belly, moaning around his hefty mouthful just loud enough for the mic to pick up. 🥴

I always forget to tag list for the little stuff at first, slash I can never decide if it’s annoying or not. 🤷‍♀️

@hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @wheneverfeasible

@oatmilk-vampire

Steve as a late night radio DJ, with Robin as his producer (because my partner has made me watch so much Frasier lol). He's got the sexy voice and Eddie, frontman of successful metal band Corroded Coffin, still remembers him from Hawkins and, ugh.

But, well, his manager set up the interview and it would cause more of a stir to no-show than it would to turn up and bicker with some washed up former high school bully. It's a different city, a different decade; maybe King Steve won't even remember him.

So Eddie turns up, and he actually beats Steve there. To the point of the show starting and it's just him in the booth, chatting awkwardly with Robin to fill the air. It gets less awkward the more they talk, idly catching up on old small town bullshit and what it's like to go from isolated baby queers ("I thought I was totally alone!" "Really? You didn't clock the black bandana hanging out of my pocket for five of my six years in high school?" "Sorry old timer, I was still in middle school for part of that." "Oh fuck off, Ms. 'I went to Sarah Lawrence and all I got was this awesome girlfriend.'" "Sorry Eddie, we can't all be super late bloomers like you.") to Actually Successful And Functioning Adults. (She's kind enough not to mention his single but unfortunately well known brush with rehab, other than to congratulate him on his seven year chip.)

And then Steve bursts in, huffing and puffing and diving for the headphones and mic to apologize to both them and the audience for being late. He doesn't even try to offer an excuse until Robin asks, "Uh, Steve? Want to share with us why your arm's in a sling and one of your eyebrows looks like it got flambéd right off your face?"

Which turns into a very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson ("Oh damn, Henderson! I fell outta touch with him ages ago. How is that little shit?" "Married. He didn't end up converting to Mormonism, but they still have enough kids to make up half a basketball team." "Is that... a lot?" "Six, Munson. They have six kids." "Which is funny, because he made soooo much fun of Steve for wanting that many back in the day." "Yeah. Showed him." "Fuck, my condolences to his wife if they all inherited his big head. You gotta give me his number after this. Or—DUSTIN, if you're listening to your babysitter's show, come to my next concert and there'll be two backstage passes with your name on it! Or, well, that embarrassing nickname your radio girlfriend used to call you, since I think I've blurted out your full government name by now." "That girlfriend is actually his wife now." "No shit?! Wow, I can't believe one of my little lost sheepies has managed to keep the same girl for over a decade. Is she really hotter than Phoebe Cates?" "Oh, she is smokin." "Robin, don't make it weird." "Oh it's okay, she already knows. I told her.") ... A very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson coming over to discuss plans for Ma Henderson's birthday, and bringing a cherries jubilee that Suzie had made so he could literally demonstrate the flambé presentation ("Listeners, I swear I did not know, when I asked Steve about his flambéd eyebrow, that it was a literal flambé accident. Eddie, can you confirm?" "I can confirm, Robin. We received no heads-up calls or messages from Steve before or during the show. It was serendipitous irony, 100% pure.") but poured waaaaay too much brandy on, and then Steve tripped in his mad dash for the fire extinguisher ("He was no help at all, just stopped dropped and rolled right there in the middle of the damn kitchen." "How are his eyebrows?" "Ugh, I have more of them than he does right now but at least his match. Don't worry everyone, he's fine. No nerds were injured in the course of this improv slapstick comedy routine that is my life. I swear to god, I need a girlfriend or a boyfriend or someone reasonable to hang out with besides all you weirdos." "Aw, you love us." "Yeah Stevie, what would you do without your loving nerd squad?" "Yeah, yeah... But don't try to leave yourself out of this Munson, as far as I'm concerned you're still the king of all nerds. And if you're reconnecting with Dustin, you're stuck with us too.") and had to stop by urgent care on the way to work.

Throughout all of this, Eddie is not twirling a lock of hair around one finger... but only because it's tied haphazardly back to keep it out of his face for the day. Steve is different from the guy he remembers strutting the halls of Hawkins High. Still all freckles and hair and charismatic grin, but he carries himself differently. More solidly built in his mid-thirties than his late teens, with a layer of softness that suits him. Calmer and settled, with the kind of confidence that comes with growing up. And the girlfriend or boyfriend thing? Holy shit. Holy shit. King Steve? Who knew? But, well, it explains why Steve and Robin are so close, Eddie guesses.

The Steve Harrington that Eddie had known back in the day hadn't exactly been the worst of the bullies, but he'd been friends with them, and they had spouted plenty of homophobic shit. And Steve had been looking right at him as he'd said it, like he's aware that Eddie is terminally single and maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of a question in his eyes.

Eddie has been publicly out for a while now, and the thing is... Steve is definitely his type. So he leans into it a little, testing the waters. And Steve responds to it like a sunflower greeting the sunrise.

By the end of the show Robin is slapping post-its on the glass partition that read "Get his number dingus" and "Get a room" and Don't make that face at me, yes I do know that he can see these too and I don't care, GET IT or I will recruit Dusty-dun to my cause" and "To clarify, the cause is getting you laid. Eddie, take note, he's allergic to latex."

Permanent tag list (ask to be added, but since I have gotten an influx of new followers lately just know that I write a lot of weight gain kink so like... just be aware): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

[shushmal]

Let it be known that Steve has zero problem with Eddie. Like, negative problems. So little problem that it kinda turns itself inside out and becomes a DIFFERENT problem. But, not like, a problem problem. Just a teeny tiny little maybe issue. Maybe. Whatever.

Anyways, Eddie's a hugger.

And, like Steve said, it's not a problem. Except that it kind of is.

"Oh, dude," Robin had said when he'd told her as much, and stared at him with this incredibly pained look in her eyes. "You have so many issues." And after that, he gets daily a Robin hug.

Which is great. But doesn't solve his not-problem with Eddie hugs.

Well, in a way, it does. Regular Robin hugs means that Steve isn't freezing up and freaking out when he gets an Eddie hug. Steve's really glad for that, because he'd been terrified that he was going to make Eddie think that Steve hated the Eddie hugs.

Which would be awful, because Steve kinda sorta maybe absolutely would-die-for the Eddie hugs. Steve loves the Eddie hugs, okay? Eddie should be hugging Steve all the time, actually.

He does, too. It's kind of awesome. Steve waives a late fee? Eddie's clamoring over the counter to hug him. Steve picks up the nerds from their nerd jail game? Eddie's half way through his window, hugging Steve's head. Steve brought pizza to movie night? Eddie gets his arms around Steve's waist and sighs happily into Steve's neck. It's pretty great.

It's the best thing ever.

And Steve knows logically that he's not special. Eddie's usually draped over someone for extended periods of time until he get's swatted off. He hugs everyone. Steve's not special. He does have to tell himself that a lot.

"Oh, dingus," Robin had sighed when he'd told her as much. Her look this time was a lot less pained and more exasperated. "So many issues." And he was rewarded with two Robin hugs that day.

Anyways, Steve has to remind himself all the time that he's not special. So it comes as a little tiny sorta maybe surprise when Eddie one night wraps Steve in his arms, sighing all happy and contented like he usually does, and says, "You're my favorite, Harrington. You give the best hugs."

And then he presses a kiss to Steve's cheek.

And a lot of things go through Steve's head in that moment. He doesn't have a clue what any of it is, but it all scrolls by like the Star Wars intro on too much sugar and too hard to read. Still, he arrives at the correct conclusion anyways.

"Oh," Steve says, before Eddie's lips have really left his cheek. "I'm in love with you."

Eddie reels back, his hands still on Steve's shoulders, big brown eyes now bigger than ever. Steve watches as his face goes pink, and pinker, and then bright red.

"Huh?!" It's a really ugly sound that Eddie makes, and Steve bites his lip to keep from laughing. It's cute.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I'm in love with you."

"... What?!"

[dreamsteddie]

When Steve and Eddie first start to date, Eddie is ready and prepared for Steve to be unsure about initiating certain things in their relationship. He gets this idea in his head that he'll be the one drawing Steve into his side and settling his nerves when they hold hands in the presence of his friends and generally getting him comfortable being in a relationship with a man that is semi-public (ie. their close friends, Wayne, and some of the Party's parents).

Except Steve doesn't hesitate at all to initiate all the casual boyfriend moves that he used to pull with the girls he dated in the past.

At their first group hang out after they announce their relationship Eddie is ready to sit on the cushion next to Steve and maybe - maybe - hold his hand. He knows Steve loved PDA with his past partners and at home, Eddie would never dream of sitting any other way besides draped all over his boyfriend but this might be different. Being visibly queer in front of others, in Eddie's experience, can be extremely nerve-wracking.

So, color him surprised when Steve immediately drops his arm from where it was resting behind the back of the couch to wind its way around Eddie's waist and haul him in close. Steve doesn't even look away from where he's talking to Robin about the work schedule next week. Meanwhile, the casual possessiveness of the move has Eddie's brain leaking out his ears like he's a sweet virginal maiden experiencing physical touch for the first time.

When they head home Steve is holding his hand and uses the leverage to pull them to a stop. He asks Eddie if that was too much, if Eddie wasn't ready to be lovey like that in front of their friends. Tells him he gets it if he wants to pump the breaks a little bit in front of their friends but before he can finish Eddie is hauling him in for a kiss that leaves Steve breathless and tells him to never change and also maybe hold Eddie like that all the time please and thank you.

[andvys]

You said you were gonna grow up (then you were gonna come find me) ⭐︎ S.H.

⭐︎ Warnings: slight angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood best friends to lovers, allusions to cheating (but not really), mentions of sex, mentions of unrequited love, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ Summary: You and Steve used to be inseparable, best friends since childhood, you shared something special, something rare. You promised each other forever but... promises are never to keep... right?

⭐︎ Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

⭐︎ Word count: 10k

⭐︎ Author's note: To my Steve girlies who have read (and still mourn) I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss -- in the middle of writing this little oneshot, I noticed that Steve and reader reminded me of someone, and then I realized that it's basically Steve and Cheer in a different universe (if Steve hadn't fucked up as badly as he did). This is... what they should have been.

Also shoutout to @hellfire--cult for inspiring me to finish this oneshot (finally) and @ghost-proofbaby thank you for picking a title for me, and for your sweet words about this little piece, you're both the bestest

⭐︎ my library

divider by @saradika (I screamed when I saw the folklore dividers)

♡

The smell of weed and smoke lingers in the air, music blares through the house and bounces off the walls, laughter and giggles come from every corner, conversations he couldn’t care less about yet listens in on because what else is there to do at a party? 

Steve once found himself at home in such gatherings, now he feels nothing but bored as he watches the people instead of interacting with them like he once used to do. 

He used to be on the dancefloor, at the keg stand, pressing some girl against the wall and kissing her neck before taking her upstairs into one of the empty bedrooms – but those days are long over and they are not to be missed, not in the slightest. 

Now he is sitting out in the backyard of some stranger’s house, sipping on a lukewarm soda and waiting for Robin to get sick of this party so he can take her home before going to his empty house and crashing out on his new bed. Seeing as she’s jumping around on the dancefloor with Vickie, it doesn’t seem like she'll want to leave anytime soon. 

 A sigh falls from his lips and he slumps his shoulders in boredom. 

He could be socializing, talking to girls, flirting with them, with the ones who keep waving at him and sending him suggestive, overly sweet looks – he isn’t interested. The past few months were wasted ones, disastrous dates, one or two meaningless hookups, girls who weren’t interested in him but only in sex – that was his reality and he didn’t want that anymore, he doesn’t want that anymore, he wants something real, he wants to feel something, he wants someone to want him for more than just that one thing, he wants a connection, a bond, he wants… you. 

Steve’s lips part, his eyes lighten up, glowing just like the stars in the night sky, he sits up straighter and cranes his neck to see you better, his heart skipping in a way it hasn’t in a long time, he forgot what it feels like… but of course you are the one to remind him of the way his heart can skip and flutter when he feels something, you have always been the one, the only one. 

Not even Nancy could make him feel half of the things you could make him feel. 

But he blew his chances with you – the only chances that ever mattered. 

He hears your laughter, your beautiful giggles that he missed every day since you left, even from all the way here, he can hear the voice that accompanied him throughout most of his life… until it didn’t. 

You were his best friend, the only friend that mattered until he found Robin. You were with him from the moment your mothers introduced you both to each other, joined at the hip, you went through it all together, different hobbies, different friend groups, first crushes and rough school days, arguments with so called friends, first parties, first drunken nights, you went through so much and you did it all together, you experienced everything together. 

Steve would sneak into your room, late at night, he would use the vines on the wall as a ladder, no matter how many times you scolded him, he still climbed up because he wanted to see you so desperately, even when he spent the whole day with you, it just wasn’t enough, you’d spent the nights whispering and talking about the newest gossips, sometimes he would paint your nails or braid your hair, sometimes you would just lie next to each other and listen to some new album and sometimes you would cuddle and fall asleep in each other’s arms, it was a regular thing, it was something constant. 

But then something changed, you both got curious, you both started acting upon feelings that have been there for a long time already, feelings that were no longer innocent and childish turned into something more. 

You were each other’s first kiss, it was nothing more than a peck at first… and then it was a second and a third before you kissed for real. And then, it was just another regular thing, you started cuddling and kissing every night, smiling and giggling through it all, holding hands and pulling each other closer and closer. 

Those innocent kisses turned into makeout sessions and those turned into your first time. 

It was his first time and yours, you shared it with each other, like you shared everything else together. 

It was filled with nervous giggles, blushing cheeks and shaky touches, you were both scared to do something wrong but you assured one another and you both did your best, he took care of you and you of him. It was slow, it was soft, it was perfect. A night he will never forget. 

Nothing ever came close to this moment, nothing came ever close to how you made him feel. 

Steve should have asked you out after that night, he should’ve, but he didn’t, he chickened out, he got scared and he left the next morning without saying goodbye. That was his biggest mistake. 

To this day, he doesn’t know how you felt about it all, you never spoke of this night again, you never mentioned it again, you both acted like nothing happened, you continued your friendship like you didn’t ruin it. 

He kept coming over, everything stayed the same… but it didn’t. 

You started slipping away from him and he was too busy to notice, he became captain of the basketball team, girls started noticing him, he started going on dates even though you were all he could think about, it felt wrong to hold their hands, to kiss them, to touch them, he felt as though he was betraying you but his new friend Tommy encouraged him, spoke lies into his ear about how you went on dates on the nights you canceled on him. 

He was hurt, he was angry, and it only was a matter of time before he invited a girl who wasn’t you into his sheets. 

He hated how he felt afterwards, but he didn’t stop, he kept going and before he could even blink, he was the most popular boy in school, he was King Steve, the guy who could have anyone but still only had eyes for one. 

Though your shared nights became less frequent, you still spent time with him, even when you weren’t fond of Tommy and Carol, his big parties or the way he treated girls, you were still there and it bothered him that he couldn’t have you. 

It was clear that you didn’t feel the same, despite the many signs that he had missed at that time. He was your best friend, just your best friend, just Steve. He could’ve made a move, he could've asked you out on a date, he could’ve finally confronted you about your night together and how you felt about it, how you felt about him, but he was scared and it was ironic really, because he was good with girls, very charming and cocky, smug and arrogant but not with you, no, not with you. You made him nervous, you made his chest feel weird, his stomach too, you made his heart race and flutter, you made his skin feel hot and his mind all crazy. 

You got him bad. 

You made him fall in love. 

But he was a coward when it came to his feelings for you, he really was, he didn’t even want to admit them to himself, so he watched you slip through his fingers instead of taking action and making you his. His feelings got stronger despite the distance that slowly grew between you.

You were still there, physically, but your mind was somewhere else and you seemed so far away.

He left notes in your locker, just like he did when he was a kid. 

And you did the same to him. 

You waved at each other from afar and shared smiles, you still drove around town and sang along to your favorite songs after an occasional trip to that one diner out of town, you sometimes slept over and left your sweet scent on his pillows, driving him crazy with it. You were still each other’s best friends. 

But then Nancy stepped into his life and that was it, at that point, it was already crumbling, your friendship was hanging by a thread and it earned its final blow when you moved away for college. 

Occasional calls and letters were all that existed between you at that point, it drove him crazy, it made him sad. He suffered heartbreak when you were gone and you weren’t there to mend it, you weren’t there to hold him, to wipe his tears and tell him that he would be alright – how could you? You were the reason for that heartbreak and Nancy was the one who gave him the final push to open his eyes to the feelings he kept pushing away and feeling so scared of. 

When he realized what a mistake he had made, it was far too late to fix it and he never stopped regretting the actions he took and didn’t take. 

But now you are here, you are back. 

He hasn’t heard your voice in so long, he hasn’t seen your beauty in forever, he missed your presence so dearly. 

One year, one whole year without you. 

Are you here to stay for the summer or are you back for good? He hopes it’s the latter, this town felt anything but home without you here. 

Steve stares at you, he stares and stares without shame. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his cheeks already blushing as he takes you in. 

You are so gorgeous. 

A confident smile is lingering on your lips, your makeup is a little bolder than it used to be, back then, but it suits you, your skirt is short, your top is tight, your cleavage is showing and your skin is glowing, your hair is much longer than he remembers it to be, a few highlights added to your pretty hair color and styled into waves. 

You have always been a sight for sore eyes, he was aware of your beauty from a young age, he called you his princess, his sweet, cute and beautiful princess. But you are more than just beautiful now, you are stunning, bewitching, you are heavenly. 

His heart jumps at the sound of your giggle, his skin heating up so rapidly that it catches him off guard. 

Steve watches you, he watches for what feels like forever, you’re here with friends, girls you used to hang out with back in high school. 

The smile never leaves his lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his heart fluttering more and more each passing second, eyes continuing to light up at every sound of your giggle. 

When you step away from your friends and walk back into the house, he wastes no time to follow, grabbing the chance that he once missed, he goes after you and leaves his drink abandoned on the floor. 

He brushes past a group of guys playing beer pong, dodging the dancing people on the dancefloor, keeping his eyes on your body as he follows. Your skirt is swaying, your waves are bouncing, your hips are shaking slightly, your sweet scent lingers in the air and he can’t help but inhale it deeply, it’s still the same scent that he missed on his pillows and the hoodies you used to steal.

With your back turned to him, you stop in front of the snack table and pour yourself a cup of the overly alcoholised punch. 

Steve doesn’t approach you right away, standing by the doorway, he decides to watch you for a second longer, feeling giddy and nervous now that he is so close to you again. 

You nearly choke on the punch, the bitter taste of alcohol overpowering the fruity taste, you scrunch your brows together and swallow it down in disgust, unimpressed by this drink after all the different kind of cocktails you have tried in the past months on your night outs to bars with your girlfriends from college. 

A sigh falls from your lips and you take a second, much needed sip. 

It feels weird to be back home in Hawkins, the town is much quieter than the big city you called home for the past year and you feel that weird tingly shudder on the back of your neck, knowing that he is so close somewhere. 

Steve. 

You miss him so much, you miss him everyday, but it’s been so long, you can’t even remember the last time you have talked to him. You know that he still works at Family Video and his friend Robin moved into his house with him after his parents moved away from Hawkins, for good. 

But that’s all, you don’t know if he is single or if he is dating – you fear your heart wouldn’t take the information very well, which is ironic really, you haven’t seen him in so long, all you have are your memories, some of which you kept in a shoebox under your bed, pictures, notes, letters and little presents from him. Steve was nothing but a ghost these past months and yet it didn’t stop your heart from falling deeper in love… even with just the boy in your memory, the one that will haunt you for the rest of your life. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you look down at the red beverage in your cup, you close your eyes and take another sip and swallow it but this time in delight, you welcome the burning in your throat. 

“You still make that cute face when you don’t like something.” 

The voice you have just been thinking about sounds deeper than it did when you left. 

Those shudders at the back of your neck, run down your spine and transform into heat across your whole body, your heart skips a few beats.

You turn to face him, sloshing the drink around in your cup, you nearly spill it on the white tiles beneath you. Your breath hitches in your throat and your chest tightens when you look at him for the first time again, those hazel eyes that you have missed so much staring back at you with excitement yet nervousness and you have no doubt that your own eyes match the look in his. 

Your lips curl into a shy smile, your cheeks heat up so quickly and you nearly crush the plastic cup in your hand when you let your eyes roam his body. He somehow got even taller, his arms look stronger and his shoulders wider, his hair got longer too, a spitcurl hanging over his forehead, his cheeks are rosy, a stubble covering his jaw and chin, your eyes move down his arm, stopping at the black hair tie around his wrist that momentarily steals your breath away and fills your chest with hope. You lick your lips and swallow as you stare at the veins in his hands. 

There he stands with his stupid, still perfectly styled hair and his Levi’s that are always way too tight around his crotch, looking down at you and reminding you of how much taller he is and always was. 

“Hey,” he breathes, nervously, happily. 

“Steve,” you say with a smile on your lips, “hi.”

Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know what to say, your heart is beating so hard, he can feel it in his throat, he feels so nervous, you make him nervous. His charm, his flirtatious side still fades into nothing when he is around you and the world around him still disappears when he is with you, some things truly never change. 

He wants to take a step closer and wrap his arms around you, he wants to hug you and never let go again but he doesn’t want to overstep so he forces himself to stay in place. 

“Y-You’re back,” he smiles, trying to hide his excitement. 

You nod, probably a little too quickly. 

“Yeah, I’m back,” you nod again, feeling awkward and tense standing here before him after all the countless nights you spent thinking, dreaming about him. 

He breathes heavily and fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, “for the summer or…?”

You shake your head, unable to look away from his beautiful eyes. 

“No, I-I transferred to uh the community college here…” You scrunch your face up when you see the surprised look on his face. “I know, lame right? Moving away from Chicago and back to your hometown is uh not the.. move.” 

Not the move? He repeats in his head. 

This might be the best day of his life – the day he had been waiting for, for your return. 

Steve’s eyes widen, he purses his lips as he starts shaking his head, raising his hand a little, he steps closer to you. 

“No! No, I’m just surprised, that’s all, I didn’t think you’d ever come back… honestly,” he chuckles nervously and brings his hand up to scratch the side of his neck. “But I’m happy to see you back here again.” 

Happy is an understatement, the feelings in him can’t be put into words, they do not exist. 

Your eyes soften at his words, your smile transforming into a soft one, hope swirling inside of you. 

Did he miss you like you missed him? 

“I’m happy to see you,” he adds, his cheeks heating up at his admission and your beauty doesn’t help his case, his eyes roam your body, your pretty features, your soft skin, the chain around your neck that looks oh so familiar, his heart starts beating faster, his hands shaking from the giddiness lingering in him. “Y-You look…” Stunning, mesmerizing, gorgeous, sexy, adorable, like an angel or a goddess. “Amazing.” He breathes, blushing red.

Your eyebrows pull together as your wide eyes fill with emotion. 

You see the way he looks at you, you see the redness in his cheeks, the shyness in his eyes that surprises you the most. 

You take a shaky breath, cursing at the way your cheeks heat up and glow so hotly. 

“Thank you,” you say without stutter, to your own surprise. “You don’t look bad yourself, Harrington,” you smirk at him, smugness taking over your blushing features when you see him looking down in nervousness. 

Did you just make Steve blush? 

You open your mouth again, feeling the urge to compliment him again when a whistle interrupts you and wipes the smirk off your face, instead a look of disgust takes over your features when you turn your head to see Tommy Hagan looking you up and down with a perverted smile on his face. 

He pushes his way between you, earning a glare from Steve, whose face turned stone cold and angry. Tommy grabs a red solo cup and pours himself some of the punch while he continues to give you nasty looks, chuckling when looks at your cleavage, “shit, now I get why Harrington always kept his favorite toy to himself,” he smirks and takes a sip of his drink before he steps back to wink at Steve, wiping his chin and looking back to you, “you really grew up.” 

Your lips curl downwards, your brows pull together in a frown. 

“Dude, what the fuck,” Steve frowns at him, giving him a disapproving look. 

Tommy always made you feel uncomfortable with his comments and his weird looks, but it was something else back then. This is new, this is disgusting. 

“If I knew back then that you were hiding these behind your sweaters, I would’ve definitely hit it,” he chuckles darkly as he stares at your boobs. 

Bile rises in your throat and your grip tightens on your cup, the urge to throw your punch into his face growing strong. 

Steve rolls his eyes, a frustrated sigh falls from his lips and he steps towards his former friend, he places his hand on his chest and pushes him back as he takes a protective stance in front of you, protecting you from Tommy’s prying eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough, asshole,” Steve mumbles angrily. “Leave her alone or I swear to–”

“You swear to what, man? You and I both know you can’t do shit,” Tommy laughs at Steve, his eyes crinkle in amusement, irritating Steve further. 

Steve might’ve lost most of his fights, but he wouldn’t lose one if it came to you. 

He clenches his jaw and glares down at him, feeling rage burn within him. 

“Seriously dude, get lost, alright?” He demands, his voice sounding deeper, more serious than before. 

You look over Steve’s shoulder, feeling safe and protected by him, the way you always did, just even more now. Your stomach flutters with warmth, your heart swelling in your chest. 

To your surprise, Tommy steps away without another word, continuing to chuckle at Steve and the glare on his face. He gives you another look. 

“Call me if you–”

“Fuck off, Tommy,” Steve says through gritted teeth, feeling hot rage flushing through him. 

Tommy takes another sip as he walks backwards, winking at you before he finally turns around and leaves the kitchen, allowing you to finally breathe. 

Steve runs his fingers through his hair and huffs, turning back to you, his features instantly soften. 

“I’m sorry about him.” 

You shake your head, your smile reappearing again, “it’s not your fault,” you shrug, “some people just never change.” 

“Yeah…” He mumbles, wondering if you changed at all, “did you?”

Did you change? You ask yourself. Maybe, surely college has shaped you in some way, being away from home, being independent and all alone, meeting new people and being pushed into situations you would have never allowed as a teenager, did change something in you. 

You got more confident, a little bolder too, you tried new things and did them without shame, something that was once impossible when you were still here and an insecure teen. 

You tilt your head to the side and give him a sly smirk, “why don’t you find out?” 

The anger Tommy left him with fades away, the flirtatious tone in your voice catching him by surprise and you take it even further when you take a step closer to him after placing your drink on the counter, you look up at him with your big eyes that still drive him crazy. 

He doesn’t remember you to be this flirty… this bold but he can’t complain, it makes the fluttering in his stomach feel so much more intense. 

Steve’s lips curl back into a smile, he blinks at you, looking into your eyes intensely, with want and need – nothing changed, if anything, the magnetic force between you has intensified, even when there was mostly only radio silence between you both in these past months. 

Steve licks his lips, a sliver of his confidence slipping back in when he sees the way you look at him, eyes roaming his face and his body. Though his cheeks are still burning and his heart is still racing, no matter how much confidence he can find within himself, you are still you, you are still the girl that holds his heart in the palm of her hand, the one who has him captivated in every way possible, the one who has had him wrapped around her finger, from a very young age. You aren’t just a girl to woo and impress for a single date, you aren’t someone he would forget if a conversation or a date went wrong, you are the one he always wanted to grow old with, to experience everything with, to spend a life with the one who is his everything – one wrong move and he loses it all… again. 

He doesn’t bother to ask if you are with someone, if you are dating and taken, the thought is disturbing to his heart. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” He asks as he slowly reaches for your hand and you allow him to take it when you slip your palm against his and give his hand a squeeze.

He nearly crumbles to his knees when he feels your soft touch again, it’s been too long. Your hand always fit into his so perfectly, like it was made to be held by him. 

You nod, whispering a sweet ‘yes, please’. That’s all he needs to hear before he pulls you closer to his body, pushing you in front of him slightly, keeping a protective stance right behind you as he never lets go of your hand, basking in the feeling of having you so close again, of being able to smell your perfume again and the sweet scent of your body wash. 

He rubs circles on the top of your hand, pressing his other hand on the small of your back as he pushes through the crowds of people. He leads you to Robin first, needing to make sure that she will get home safe without him. He finds her playing beer pong with Vickie and a few of their former bandmates from high school. He taps on her shoulder and when she turns around, Steve grows more nervous than before, because her eyes grow wide when she sees you next to him, excitement flashing in them and a big grin appearing on her face after a long moment of staring at you. 

She knows all about you. 

She knows all about his feelings and his regrets. 

She knows how much he missed you. 

She was there when he cried and never stopped talking about you. 

So after greeting you, probably a little too enthusiastically, she moves closer to Steve, raising her eyebrows at him and giving him a teasing, yet pointed look. 

“Go and don’t worry about me, Vickie can drive, she’s not drinking tonight.”

“You sure?” 

She nods, her waves bouncing as she moves her head a little too quickly. 

“Steve I’m fine, go and get your girl,” she winks at him, squeezing his shoulder before she moves back, giving him another look that says nothing but ‘i mean it, don’t fuck it up this time, this is your chance.’ 

Steve nods at her, smiling and feeling reassured by her. He holds your hand tighter and pulls you away before you can properly say goodbye to his friend that you only know from your days in high school. You look back at her to find her staring at the two of you, grinning from ear to ear, she raises her eyebrows at you, eyes glowing as she gives you a smirk and a small wave of her hand. 

You feel a little confused by the teasing look on her face but smile and wave back at her nonetheless before Steve whisks you away and out of the room.

It isn’t weird to hold each other’s hand, to be back together in his car like nothing ever happened, like you never stopped doing this, like things are still normal between you. He makes small talk, it’s not awkward or weird, it’s… nice, anything is as long as you’re with him, even the silly jokes makes or how he tries to quote Shakespeare but fails miserably, he makes you laugh and you… you make him smile. 

You stop by the gas station to grab a six pack and some snacks to share before you drive to the lookout, to the place you always went to when you wanted to be alone together. 

You get comfortable on the hood of his car, as comfortable as you can get on the rough surface. It’s a little chillier out here in the woods, the wind that blows through the trees makes goosebumps arise on your skin. Steve, of course, has to use the opportunity to throw his jacket around your shoulders, rubbing your arms to warm you up as he moves close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin. 

You feel something stir within you, something only ever he could make you feel. 

You grab the denim and pull it tighter around you, glancing at him through your lashes, you feel your cheeks heat up when you find him staring at you already, a soft smile playing on his lips that you can see, even in this darkness. 

“Thanks Stevie.” A grin tugs at your lips when his smile moves into a flustered one. 

Steve licks his lips, he removes his hands from your body and busies himself with opening the beer bottles for you and him, “you’re welcome, honey,” he whispers, winking at you. 

You look away from him with blushing cheeks, hiding the smile on your face as you tilt your head down but nothing goes unnoticed by him, he sees the flustered expression in your features, the cute smile you’re trying to hold back. 

He scoots closer to you until his shoulder is pressed against yours, he offers you the opened bottle. You glance at his hand, taking in the size of it, how big it is, how his veins pop, how long his fingers are – it makes you squirm and clench your thighs together and he notices it, he looks down and he almost regrets it, almost. Your skirt has ridden up, it nearly covers nothing, at this point. Your skin looks so smooth, thighs so soft, he wants to touch them, kiss them, feel them wrapped around his head. 

His skin heats up, his lower stomach tingles, he craves you, in every way possible, he just wants to… feel you, he wants to feel you close, he wants your skin on his, he needs to know that you are truly back. 

Your touch sends shivers down his spine, it makes his stomach flip. 

He blinks, looking down at the bottle he is still holding, watching the way your hand curls around it, fingers grazing his own. Your hand is so much smaller than his, the urge to compare the size of his own to yours growing strong. 

“Steve?” 

Your soft voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he blushes, cheeks burning maroon. He shakes his head a little, squeezing his eyes shut as he furrows his eyebrows, he removes his hand from your bottle, already missing the touch of your hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he runs his fingers through his hair, “I got a little uh… distracted.” 

He instantly regrets it when his eyes fall back on your lap again, your giggle makes him blush even deeper, he eyes you from the side, watching the way you press your lips against the bottle, you take a sip, trying to hide the smirk on your lips. 

He feels a sudden sense of nervousness rushing through him – here he is, in the presence of the girl of his dreams, the girl that slipped through his fingers, the girl that should be his and he is messing up. He begins to stutter, trying to distract himself once again, this time from your legs, from your soft skin, from how much he wants to touch and kiss you, from how beautiful you are but you make him stutter, you make it difficult for him to talk, you make it impossible for him to be smooth, to flirt with you the way he always did with other girls and suddenly, he is reminded of why he was always so scared of revealings his feelings to you, there was too much at stake, he didn’t want to lose you. 

He always felt so pathetic around you, like a stupid kid in love, one that can’t talk to his crush without blushing, without stuttering. 

And this is exactly what you always adored about him. 

But he doesn't know it, he doesn’t even realize it, he doesn’t even see the way your eyes always light up, the way they soften as you look at him, the way you admire him. 

Before he even takes a sip of his beer, he already feels like he is drunk, his skin is hot, his mind hazy, he feels happy, at ease, like he is floating, all because of you, you make him feel so… light. 

He is drunk on you, without having touched you properly, your presence is enough. 

He wonders how you are holding up, what emotions linger inside of you — you look so calm, relaxed. 

You fall into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the things you have missed in each other's lives, since being separated. And while your eyes stay glued on the night sky, only glancing at him every once in a while, he watches you, with a fluttering feeling in his chest and a smile on his lips. 

You laugh with each other, getting lost in the memories that you both start bringing up, joking and slapping each other’s shoulders softly as you start to tease one another about the stupid things that you both have done in the past. 

You have changed, not only physically did you get even more beautiful, you got something that you didn’t have before, a boldness that you always admired others for. You used to be so shy, anxious to ask the simplest questions, too nervous to hold eye contact for longer than two seconds, even with him, sometimes. But now, despite you choosing to look at the sky instead of him, he can tell that you are not that shy girl anymore, who was afraid to look into his eyes. You are confident, comfortable in your own skin, not afraid to be you, not afraid to gaze into his eyes when you tilt your head to look at him. 

He wonders what or… who caused it, the change in you. 

Was it just the circumstances? The big city that pushed you out of your comfort zone? 

New friends? Being on your own? Or… was it the experiences you have made in these past few months that have shaped you from an innocent, shy teenager into a confident, young woman? 

His stomach churns at the thought of the things you have done while being away from home, or better yet, who you have done them with. He has no right to be upset about it, he knows it, yet he can’t stop the sinking feeling inside of him as he thinks of the hands that have touched your body or the lips that kissed yours, if you had dated someone, if you are someone else’s right now. 

The question tumbles from his lips before he can even stop himself. 

“Do you have anyone?” 

The storm that was just raging in his mind, the string of questions that followed now silenced as he stares at you, waiting for your answer with a racing heart and clammy hands. 

The sound of crickets and the rustling of the trees are the only sounds now filling the space around you.

“You mean… a boyfriend?” 

He nods and you shake your head at that. You bring the bottle up to your lips, taking a much needed sip. 

“No, I don’t,” you murmur as your eyes roam his face, “why?”

You notice the frown on his face, the way his lips are curled down and his eyebrows are tightly scrunched together. 

“Just wondering… someone like you still single?” 

“What do you mean…?” You ask slowly.

Steve huffs, shaking his head with a smile on his face. 

“I mean… Come on, honey. You’re funny, you’re smart and you’re just… you’re amazing,” he sighs adoringly, hazel eyes running up down and your face and your body. “You’re beautiful, a fucking catch.”

You almost want to scoff at his words, you want to roll your eyes and look the other way. A catch, right. A catch he never wanted. Your heart betrays you when it flutters and prompts a girlish giggle to fall from your lips. 

“Stop.”

He nudges his shoulder against yours, grinning at your flustered face, “it’s the truth.”

Steve feels relieved to know that you don’t have anyone waiting on you, that there isn’t some guy out there that got the girl he always wanted. 

“You have to say that,” you shake your head and drink the last drop of your beer before you throw the bottle down on the grass, making a mental note to pick it up later. 

Because he is your best friend, because he was always your best friend, no matter what – so of course, he has to say these words to you. 

He rolls his eyes at you, huffing, “I’m not just saying that.” 

You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, the way his words can make you feel like that shy teenage girl again, you try to steer the attention away from you. 

You press your palm against the cold, almost icy hood, leaning back, you tilt your head to the side and gaze at him, loving how long his hair grew, how his features are more… manly now, though the boyish grin still lingers. 

“What about you?” You whisper, swallowing the bitterness on your tongue. “Got anybody, Stevie?”

He shakes his head quickly, almost frowning at your question. 

“Me? No… no one really… felt right.” He says with a look of longing in his eyes, the one that is only reserved for you. 

The tension in your chest disappears, almost instantly, you have an idea of what you would feel like had the answer been a different one. 

“I was seeing a girl… for a while but uh… like I said, it… she didn’t feel right,” he admits with a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

You nod, swallowing harshly. 

“Why didn’t she feel right?” You’re aware of how small, how shaky your voice sounds. 

You wait, wait and wait for him to answer your question, the answer he tries to find in your eyes as it seems because he won’t stop looking at you, it’s like he is searching for something, like he is trying to figure you out, like he is trying to make sense of the question you just asked. 

He doesn’t give you what you want, as always, Steve Harrington pretends like nothing happened, like nothing had been asked. 

But you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, you had someone too, back in Chicago. 

He was nice, he was good to you, in more ways than just one but no matter how much you tried not to think of him, you always failed. He was always there, always in the back of your mind, always ready to haunt you and remind you that he is and will always be the only one that your heart will belong to. 

Your relationship was only short lived, and you left him the moment you realized how unfair it was to stay with him when your heart was somewhere else, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve. 

Something rustles in the bushes, something echoes loudly through the woods, something that would have normally made you flinch, doesn’t even faze you now because he is here. You feel safe in his presence, you always did, not even the darkest night or the loudest storm could make you feel afraid as long as he was by your side. 

And yet, you scoot closer to him, not even noticing that you do until his fingers brush against yours and sparks shoot through your entire body. 

And through his. 

You clear your throat and take a deep breath, “yeah… I had someone… but he didn’t feel right either.” You say softly, vulnerably as you meet his eyes again. 

A soft ‘oh’ leaves his mouth and he nods, looking down at the bottle in his hand, he brings it up to his lips and downs the rest of it. He feels his stomach churning, his insides crawling at the mere thought of you with someone who isn’t him and it makes him feel awful, it makes him feel ridiculous because wasn’t that his own fault? He blew his chances with you. He let you go, hell, he didn’t even fight for you. 

He puts the bottle down, wipes his mouth and runs his fingers through his hair before he turns back to you to find you staring at him just the way you always did, with your big doe eyes, those pleading and begging looks you never stopped throwing at him. 

He’d have to be blind to not see it – he always did, he just never allowed himself to admit it, not even to himself, not even when you were all he ever wanted. 

“Why didn’t he feel right?” 

Steve watches the way your lips curl downwards, the way you squint your eyes at him, the softness fleeing as you glare at him instead.

And suddenly, the air around you feels different, tense for another reason, heavy and filled with something neither of you ever addressed before. 

While you take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself – Steve tries to mend the aching in his chest, the hammering that feels just too strong. 

“Why didn’t she feel right, huh?” You ask, scooting away from him and getting off the hood, placing your feet back on the ground, you don’t even bother to smooth down your skirt. You cross your arms over your chest and stand in front of him, demanding the answer you tried to ask softly before. 

Steve sighs, growing fearful and anxious, feeling like he is messing up yet again, like he is about to lose again. 

But you are close, so goddamn close, even through the anger in your eyes, you still stand in reach, your knees now brush against his. He straightens his back, fighting the urge to reach for your hands and just pull you into him, showing you why no one ever felt right. 

He promised Robin, he promised her that if you ever came back, he would go and get you, he would come clean about it all, he would make it all right again. 

“This goes both ways, Steve. You can’t just ask me and then–”

“Because no one is you.”

He won’t fail this again, no matter how scared he is, he just can’t. 

Your lips part in surprise, a painful look crosses your eyes, though the anger doesn’t fade away just yet. You uncross your arms, and shake your head at him. 

His words should bring you joy, shouldn’t they? 

But as you stand here before him, his knees brushing your own, his golden brown eyes staring at you with nothing but love, you can’t help but feel your heart aching because why now? Why not then? 

“So… it took me to leave town… go to college… for you to say this?” You whisper, holding back a choke as your eyes well up with unwanted tears. 

His own eyes panic when he sees just how much pain there is inside of you, how much you hid it. He reaches forward, taking your hand in his, he sighs in relief when you don’t push him away like he thought you would. 

“It was always there. Before our first kiss, before our first time, and then it never stopped. But you were… you were scary. Feeling love that strong at such a young age– it wasn’t in my plans. I was scared… I was scared of loving you and losing you. It happened before.” 

His parents. 

He loved them unconditionally, he loved them no matter what they did and didn’t do, he loved them and he lost them – they abandoned him and then they forgot about him. 

Your eyes show nothing but pain, your heart breaks, all over again, for him. 

And you’re stunned, so goddamn shocked because that word fell from his lips. Love. He loved you. 

You curl your hand around his, squeezing them tightly as he gets off his car, standing tall before you again. 

“You… still could have–”

“Risked it?” Steve interrupts you, furrowing his brows as he looks down at you. “No… I wasn’t going to risk it. Risk losing you…” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself, “now I see how stupid that was because I lost you anyways.” 

His eyes well up with tears, his voice almost cracks and you finally… finally get to see a glimpse into his heart, how much pain he was always hiding.

“No… I don’t think you lost me.”

“Honey, we haven’t talked in–”

“What you felt for me… Is it… Is it past tense?” 

Steve should see the hope in your eyes, he should hear it in your voice too, but he is so scared, so nervous at this moment. 

Everything he had always been afraid of was losing you because of his feelings and he can’t help but wonder, what if he confesses his love to you now and his saddest fear creeps in and he will lose you for good, forever? 

“Why do you want to know?” He asks, shakily. 

You hold his hands tighter, taking another step closer until you are chest to chest. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath, you look up at him, begging with your eyes, yet again. “Because I deserve to know, Steve, do you still have feelings for me?”

He takes a long pause, feeling like his heart might explode, feeling like the ground might disappear beneath him if he doesn’t finally give you the whole truth. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, the ones he craved to feel on his own for years, his body aches for you just the way his heart does, desire running deep but love taking full control, driving both his heart and his mind insane over you. He feels the pounding from his chest to his throat, his eyes glossy with tears he shed so many times over you, over his regrets. 

“Yes,” he whispers, already feeling his chest deflating as the pressure slowly sinks away, “like I said, they never stopped.”

Tears spill down yours and his cheeks, his shoulders slump in relief and you, you finally breathe. You sniffle and a giggle falls from your lips, one that makes him furrow his brows but smile because now he can see the happiness in your eyes, the joy from hearing this from him. 

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper and throw your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his chest, you hug him tightly, catching him off guard. 

It takes him a moment, it takes him a very long moment. 

His glassy eyes are wide, his heart is threatening to break free from his chest. He wanted this, he wanted you for so long, he feels like this is too good to be true but when he feels your tears seeping through his shirt and how you cling to his body, like you are afraid that he might disappear if you let go, he finally relaxes. His eyes close gently, tears spilling down his cheeks, he melts into your touch and curls his arms around you, cupping the back of your head, he holds you closely, tightly. 

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head, he gives a first kiss again. 

“I missed you, Stevie,” you murmur into his chest, holding onto his shirt. 

He moves even closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you rise to your tippy toes, wanting to feel more of him, as though he isn’t close enough already, not even when your chest to chest. 

Steve breathes in your scent, the one he used to sink his face into when it still lingered on his pillows, when he longed to feel you in his arms, when he craved you so badly but felt too cowardly to make the move he just made now. 

You cling to one another, like you never have before, not even when he held you during nights you needed him the most, when you were both so convinced that you were nothing more than friends… when just friendship was never something possible between you. 

Steve’s eyes are shut tightly, he is so lost in the feeling of you, feeling so warm, so safe, so loved in your embrace. 

How can his heart race so fast yet feel so… calm? 

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in each other’s arms, you are so lost in the moment, you couldn’t care less about anything around you, about the time, about your surroundings, about the world – only you and him matter, nothing more. 

He cups the side of your face when you begin to pull away to look at one another, glossy eyes gazing into each other, lips begging to be connected. His fingers brush through your hair, he tucks your front pieces behind your ears and caresses your cheeks. His hazel eyes flash with adoration. You are so beautiful. It makes his heart clench in his chest.  

You slide your hands up his chest, moving up to his neck and cupping his cheeks, your stomach growing with anticipation the closer you both move to each other. 

No words are spoken, there is no need for them, your eyes tell everything, just like your touch when your lips finally connect. 

Your hearts stop beating, time stops ticking, the world stops moving. 

Everything around you stops. 

Just absolutely everything. 

Your eyes flutter shut, just like his. 

A kiss you both never stopped craving finally happening, not only in your minds, but in reality. 

Steve sighs in contentment, a whimper following close behind, your lips move slowly, softly with each other, you savor each and every second, even when you know that this is only the beginning of it all. 

Nothing and no one could ever compare to this, no one could ever come between you, you are two puzzle pieces, ones that were made for only each other, no one else to match you both. It’s only you and him. Your hearts know, you know, he knows. 

The way he kisses you so gently, so sensually, makes your stomach flip in ways it never did before, not even back then when you shared first and second kisses. 

And Steve, he feels like he is in a dream that he never wants to wake from again, he is too scared to open his eyes and find himself in his lonely bed, surrounded by the scent of you that he only imagines, that forever lingers like a kiss upon his skin. 

But your whimper is real, your lips are real, you are real, your lips taste just like they did before, sweet and peachy, like home. 

You only pull away to catch your breath, smiling when Steve chases your lips with his own, nuzzling his nose against yours as a soft giggle falls from his puffy lips, “god… I missed you, princess.” He murmurs against your lips, knowing that he will keep repeating these words, over and over again, he feels like he has been blessed by the universe. 

Your best friend’s eyes shine so brightly, the love in them that you always craved to see, is so evident, it’s all out in the open now, all in reach, all there for the taking – when not even a few hours ago, you didn’t even know where he was, if he still thought of you, if he still cared for you… 

Tears escape your eyes and he wastes not second to catch them, to wipe them away and kiss your wet cheek. 

“Please don’t cry,” he whispers, feeling like his heart might break, knowing that you have suffered just the way he did, when he thought that you moved on, that you had forgotten all about him just like everyone else did when that was never even the case, when all you did was long for him, love him, even from afar. 

“I love you,” he whispers in relief, feeling like the weight of the world is off his shoulders, “I love you so fucking much, you’re my–”

You cup his cheeks and pull him down once again, kissing him deeply. “You.” Kiss. “Don’t.” Kiss. “Know.” Kiss. “How.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “I.” Kiss. “Dreamed.” Kiss. “Of.” Kiss. “This.” Kiss. “Moment.” 

Steve's heart flutters the way it never did before, butterflies go wild in his stomach, his eyes crinkle and he smiles so brightly, his cheeks hurt. 

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington, you have no idea how much–”

His lips are on yours, pressed against them so strongly as he pulls you into another deep, passionate kiss before you can even finish your sentence. He kisses you in a way no one ever did before. 

His thumbs linger on your cheekbones, his tongue parts your lips so effortlessly, your own clashing against his as the softness of your feelings disappears and transforms into something needy, hungry. This kiss is much faster, much rougher, much more passionate than the first, you get lost in it so quickly. 

When he takes a step back and he sits back down on the hood of his car, he moves his hands down to your waist, pulling you in between his legs. 

Your arms move around his shoulders, your hands get lost in his hair, fingers gripping it tightly as moans escape you. The kiss makes you feel so hot, your stomach burns, your skin feels like it’s on fire as his hands move up and down your back, slipping underneath his jacket that is still around your shoulders, under your shirt and then, he touches your soft skin with his cold hand, something that makes you shiver yet lean closer against him. 

He moans against your lips, he is so intoxicated by you, needing more and more, like you’re his own personal drug. He could keep doing this, he could take you right here, right now. He could taste you, unravel you with his tongue, with his fingers, he could hold your hands and make love to you like he always wanted to, like he hoped he’d get to tonight – because he thought that this might be all he would get, a night with you, only that and no more, because how could you ever want anything more than this with him after all the times he messed up with you? After he let you slip through his fingers like it was nothing?

But this won’t stay a single night, this won’t be one that will haunt him for the rest of his life. 

This will turn into more, so much more. 

He doesn’t want to mess it up again, he wants to take it slow, he wants to give you everything you deserve, everything he craved to give you, all these years, everything he dreamed about, during the day and the night. 

So as much as he wants this, you, your bare skin on his and your whimpers blessing his ears, you deserve more, you deserve to be taken on a date first. 

“Hang on,” he whispers against your lips, cupping your cheeks again, his lips curl into an amused smile when he opens his eyes to see your smudged lipstick that is no doubt on his face now too, your hair a mess just like his own, “I want to… fuck… I want you so bad, I couldn’t stop thinking about this, about you. But I want to take it slow, I-I want to do it right this time, I want to take you on a date and–”

You cut him off with a kiss, once more. Pressing your lips against his plush ones, over and over again until it makes you both giggle. He grabs your waist and pulls you down on his lap, grabbing your cheeks, he presses his forehead to yours.

“Slow is good,” you whisper, caressing his cheek as his fingers run up and down your spine underneath the denim jacket. “I like slow.”

“Yeah?” He smiles.

You nod, though an almost sad smile makes its way on your lips, “you know, I kinda thought you forgot about me until all of this.” You wave your hand around, wiping at your wet cheek as a soft laugh tumbles from your lips. 

You weren’t the only one who stopped calling, who stopped sending letters, he did too, but not for the reasons you thought, clearly. 

A deep frown appears on his face, he tightens his hold on you, raising his hand up towards your face, he cups your cheek. Despite everything he just said, despite the kiss, you still don’t understand just how deep his feelings for you are, how his heart isn’t even his own because it is completely, devotedly yours. 

“I could never forget you,” he whispers with a sad smile on his face, “you’re all I ever think about, now and then, even when we were kids, even when I was… King Steve,” he rolls his eyes at the nickname he used to be so proud of. “You never once left my mind, not once.” 

The smile that makes his way to your lips makes his heart skip a beat, he kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger for a moment. 

“So please, let me make it right, let me fix everything… go on a date with me?” He asks with nothing but hope in giddiness in his voice. 

You squint your eyes and tilt your head, giving him a teasing smile as you pretend to think but his soft eyes make your teasing an impossible task at this moment, you wipe the lipstick off his mouth and nuzzle your nose back against his. 

“I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie,” you whisper, feeling your heart burst from joy and love. 

The one thing you always wanted, you always craved now finally happening, at a moment when you least expected it. 

Coming back home made you so nervous, knowing that you would see him again after all this time of being apart, knowing that your feelings will only continue to grow, no matter the tie between you, filled you with a sense of… dread, because you couldn’t help but wonder – does he even want to see you? 

But, to find out that he had spent every passing moment, thinking about you, about your past, wanting you back and willing you to come running back into his arms lights up everything inside you again – flames you have tried to put out, burning stronger than ever. 

Steve’s eyes well up with tears of joy again, he cups the back of your neck, his lips brush against yours, he can’t even describe his feelings with words, so he doesn’t even try, but he shows you the happiness you brought back into his life, the happiness that was just gone when you were… gone. He kisses you, once, twice… He keeps kissing you, over and over again, unable to stop himself from going back in for more, consumed by love, by gratitude and happiness to know that you came back. 

To know that you won’t haunt his what if’s. 

He won’t chase your shadows wherever he will go. 

Your scent won’t linger from just his memory alone. 

He waited and waited, and he let the lamp burn and now… now you are here, you came back, you came back to him. 

Here, at the lookout where you used to sit on your saddest days, you find your way back to one another again. 

As you embrace the future written for you, you know that the rings on your fingers won't only be imaginary ones like the ones from your childhood.