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steddie-island · 4 months ago

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Wallpaper

Written for day 1 of @stevieweek | Prompt: Stobin Rating: G | WC: 1,144 | Tags: MTF Steve Harrington, Coming Out, Robin Buckley's POV ao3 | Divider credit Now with a part 2!

They’re sitting in the bathroom. Steve’s thigh bumps against Robin’s, and he can’t stop biting on his thumbnail.

It’s a nervous habit, Robin knows, one he only gets when things feel like they might be spiraling out of his control in a major way. Sometimes she’s surprised it’s not something he does more often, but she knows he likes to look nice. Likes for other people to think he looks nice, too. He’d also crudely pointed out once upon a time that “No one wants to be fingered by someone with a bloody hangnail, Robin, Jesus.” It was gross, but now that’s one habit she’s managed to break herself out of, thanks to him.

“Hey.” Robin bumps his leg and watches as he jumps, like he’s forgotten that she’s there. “It’s just me. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

That’s true, too. Steve’s seen every lump (“It’s cancer I swear to god it’s cancer!” “That’s a zit.”) and she’s seen Steve’s right back (“That’s an ingrown hair, dingus, I think you’re supposed to shave in the other direction. Also maybe try it with your eyes open.”) They’ve helped talk each other off of the ledge so many times. When they traded the stomach flu back and forth, it was the two of them taking care of each other for one disgustingly hellacious week.

There’s nothing they can’t talk about, or help each other with. It makes Robin a little nervous that Steve is nervous, but she knows that whatever it is it’ll be fine. It always is.

“C’mon. We’re sitting on your bathroom floor. I know this is important.”

Steve pulls his thumb away from his mouth and crosses both arms across his chest. It’s then that Robin notices his hands are shaking a little.

“I’ve got something really… really important to talk to you about,” he says. His voice is a low rumble, and there’s a slight tremor, a wetness to it that she’s only heard a few times before.

“Yeah, I gathered that part,” she teases. Her shoulder bumps Steve’s, and then she reaches out to take one of his hands. As soon as their fingers lock Steve lets out a breath that he’s been holding. The tension eases from his shoulders, but only a little.

“I…” Steve clears his throat. His jaw works, and then he swallows hard. “I’ve been thinking, and… I…” He has to swallow again, so Robin tightens her grip and closes her other hand around his fingers, too.

She’s not going anywhere.

“I don’t think… I’m a boy?” A tear trails down his cheek and Steve quickly wipes it away. “I was thinking about all of these girls I’ve been with, and I liked them, but I think there might’ve been more to it? Like… like maybe I wanted some part of them to rub off on me. Like… I feel better when you paint my nails, and I like wearing lipgloss. I– I liked when we got our legs waxed together, and I like…” He bites his lips and brings his thumb back to his mouth to stroke the rough edge against his lip. “I know that all feels like… little stuff maybe, but it’s… I was thinking about it more, and… and I…” His next sigh is shakier, and there are more tears falling now.

Robin holds his hands even tighter and rests her chin against his shoulder. “That’s okay,” she says softly. “You don’t have to be a boy if you don’t want to be.” Her heart nearly breaks when Steve’s lower lip actually wobbles, and then he’s curling into her side.

“I– I don’t want to be,” he says. “I don’t want to be a boy. But I– I don’t want anyone to be mad at me–”

Robin lifts one hand to wipe his face. “No one’s going to be mad at you. No one who matters, anyway.” It’s not like the senior Harringtons have been around for a while now. The Party wasn’t surprised when Will came out, and they all dressed up to go to his first Pride with him. They’ve been okay with Eddie and Steve, and with her and Vicki.

And she knows that it’s not the same, being gay and not feeling like who you are fits who you’re supposed to be. But…

“They’ve faced hell dimensions and fought monsters,” Robin says. Her thumbs stroke over Steve’s knuckles, and she’s moved to sit in front of him instead so their knees knock together. “We almost lost Max, and came even closer to losing Eddie. You being a girl? That should be a piece of cake to them." She rests their foreheads together and brings Steve's hands up to kiss his— her— knuckles.

"What if it's not?" Steve grips Robin all the tighter and bites down on her lower lip. "What if they hate me?"

"Eddie will kick their asses, and then I'll send them packin'. If they won't love you for who you are, then we don't need them in our lives." It's something easier said than done, of course, advice Steve had given when Robin decided it was time to come out to her own parents.

There'd been an adjustment period, but come time for Will's first Pride, her parents were right there beside her.

"I haven't told Eddie yet," Steve says. That tremble is back in her voice, and more tears flow over her cheeks. "What if… what if he says he can't be with me anymore? What if he doesn't love me, Rob? What if he leaves because I'm a— a—" "A freak?" Robin finishes softly. "You, Steve Harrington, are worried your metalhead boyfriend, with his kitchen scratch tattoos and his tabletop speeches, will think that you're a freak?"

Steve blinks, then starts giggling. Quiet at first, then louder, until it's bubbling out of her and she's got her head resting against Robin's shoulder and an arm holding her ribs. "Fuck— you're right. Maybe I wasn't freaky enough before!"

"I walked in on you two once, I think there was more than enough freaky going on in that room." Robin laughs and takes Steve's hands again. The shaking has calmed, and Steve at least doesn't look like she's going to vomit— or worse, faint and get another concussion.

"Will you tell him with me?" Steve asks. "Just in case?"

"You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, dingus." Robin pokes lightly at a fleck of turquoise paint on Steve's thumb. "Want me to paint your nails for you again before we go?"

Steve gives another wobbly smile. "I would like that a lot. Thanks, Rob."

"You're welcome, Stevie." Robin stands, tugs Steve to her feet, too, then towards her bedroom. "You know, if you're making big changes, this might be the perfect time to get rid of this ugly fucking wallpaper."

#Stranger Things fic #Platonic Stobin #Transfem Steve Harrington #Stevie Harrington #MTF Steve Harrington #stevieweek #stevieweek24 #kintsugi_kid ao3

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slavicviking · 1 year ago

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Good ol' Harrington Charm (Microfic)

@steddiemicrofic September prompt: charm | wc: 548 | G | cw: none

“What’s this?”

Strange as it may be, this is not the first time Eddie Munson has been in Steve Harrington’s room. In fact, he would call himself over-familiarized with the atrocious plaid wallpaper and the matching curtains, not to mention the very cute car poster that Steve, for some ungodly reason, refuses to take down.

Steve has already been banned from making any consecutive design decisions for their apartment when they move to Chicago in the fall.

And, see, that gets Eddie every time – because it’s not ‘if’, it’s ‘when’, not ‘his’ but ‘theirs’. Sometimes Eddie still finds it hard to wrap his head around.

“I can’t believe you kept it, dingus!” Similar to a thundering tornado, Robin Buckley appears out of nowhere at his side, hair whipping from left to right as she keeps looking between Steve and the item in question.

“How could I not? So many good memories,” Steve drawls out with a poignant roll of his eyes.

“Obviously.”

“Okay, help a man out here – what exactly is this?” Eddie points to the 'You Suck' column, not liking the way Robin grins. Not at all.

“Oh, you know,” she plops on the bed unceremoniously. “Just a way to pass the time in Scoops.”

“Scoops?”

“Scoops Ahoy,” Steve rolls his eyes and – hold on a minute-

“You worked in that ice cream parlor in Starcourt?” Eddie can’t help it; he bounces closer to Steve, fingers hooking up at the edge of his polo. It’s blue and gray, and if his boyfriend stood one step closer to the wall, he’d blend right in; Eddie loves it. He loves Steve. “Did you wear the sailor outfit, sweetheart?”

Steve’s face is rapidly reddening as Robin is cackling away in the background. “Laugh it up, Buckley, you wore the exact same thing.”

“Um, last time I checked I didn’t have the hat,” she props herself on her elbows. “Total babe magnet, Eddie, I’m telling you.”

“I bet.”

The thing is, Eddie means it. Maybe it speaks for how far he’s fallen from how he viewed the world just mere months ago, but he doesn’t necessarily mind it. He’s still him, still Eddie Munson, but – better, he thinks. Happier, definitely.

It doesn’t hurt that Steve would probably look hot in a literal trash bag.

“So – the board?” he inquires again because he’s nothing if not persistent. He ‘oofs’ when Steve plants his forehead into Eddie’s chest, groaning.

“Simple, Dingus Two,” Robin is the one to answer as Eddie keeps patting Steve’s head. “The board was for recording Steve-o’s piss-poor attempts at getting the ladies.”

And surely enough, the mark tallies under ‘You Suck’ vastly outnumber the ones under ‘You Rule’, but, to be honest, beating the score of zero is not that hard, really.

“Congrats, you might be the first ‘You Rule’ on this board,” Robin adds with a mock salute.

“Ah, so that’s what I really am, then,” Eddie clicks his tongue, going for teasing despite the tight knot growing inside. “Just another unfortunate victim to the good ol’ Harrington Charm.”

“I don’t think that shit was ever real,” Steve mumbles into Eddie’s chest and the knot halts.

“It wasn’t,” Robin pipes in, not missing a beat.

Steve laughs. And the knot is promptly gone.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic soulmates stobin #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficseptember

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robinsboobshoes · 1 year ago

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❝ MEETING ROBIN BUCKLEY. ❞

↳ In which you flirt through your mutual friend, Steve.

Everything is all vividly coloured, with neon-coloured lights, water fountains, crowded tables and various children's rides, like the carousel and the Indiana Flyer. People are packing everywhere, all with brightly lit expressions stretching across their faces, following along with family and friends in huddles. The town of Hawkins is already a hellhole, with or without a new mall, and nothing can possibly change that.

Your eyes darted around, hoping to find the potential ice-cream shop you'd heard about. Your search quickly ends, once you see a brightly coloured store, with a red lettering sign reading: Scoops Ahoy!

You got to the store with unexpected difficulties, after pushing countless people out of the way and getting some foul words and looks in return. Already, you can hear some outstandingly cheesy sailor music playing loudly, making your nose scrunch up in disgust.

The interior is somehow worse. The walls are covered with blue, red and white striped wallpaper while seating booths are placed around the ice-cream parlour, red leathered and shiny. It was quite shocking to you that it was almost empty, since, Starcourt Mall had just opened. Logically, wouldn't people crowd around an ice-cream parlour on a summer morning?

You walked up to the counter to find Steve, a tall teenager your age, with styled hair and an ego too large for anyone to handle. You hit your hand on the bell that's on the corner of the front counter, causing Steve to bring his attention back to reality, rather than dozing off in his thoughts mid-task.

“Ahoy!” Steve greets from the register, not bothering to look up from whatever he had been occupied by.

“Wow, this place really complements the look." You taunted, smirking, when he finally spots you. The sailor theme is rather hilarious.

“Y/n?” Steve smiled, leaning on the counter as he takes you in, “What’re you doing here so early? My shift doesn't finish for hours.”

“I needed to kill some time,” You shrug, “I thought I'd pay my favourite sailor a visit.”

Steve puffs, opening his mouth to respond. But, before he can say anything, another voice pipes up from around the corner. It's raspy, laced with sarcasm.

“He’s only your favourite sailor because you haven’t met me yet," At the hatch behind Steve is a tall girl with broad shoulders, a tall figure and a careless posture. She has her hands placed on the further counter, while she starts twirling a black ring around her middle finger. She has black bracelets and a watch on one wrist, a spiked bracelet on the opposite. Both hands are painted with black nail polish, which shine in the light, presumably because they are newly painted. She was, like Steve, also dressed in a ridiculous uniform, which she somehow made look attractive. “I promise I’m much better company.”

“Well, you certainly look better in the uniform.” You look her up and down, chuckling, as she returns a flirtatious grin.

Steve looks pathetic as he starts running a hand down the front of his ludicrous smock, “I think I make this thing work pretty well for me.”

The girl scoffs, wide-eyed, “The loser board says otherwise, Dingus.” She calls, pointing at the whiteboard that's propping up next to her. The board is split in two: one side had, "You Rule!" written above it, and, the opposite side, "You Suck!". With no surprises, The 'You Rule!' side has no marks below it, whereas the other has a large amount of five drawn on.

You laugh at this, fingers tapping against the glass of the countertop, as you look at the board, then back to her, “Things can only go downhill when he’s forced to use words.”

She laughs with you briefly, then taps her name badge with her finger, "I'm Robin, in case you didn't know. Robin Buckley."

You raise your left eyebrow, "I do recall being in most of your classes, y'know. Just because I hang around with Steve doesn't mean I'm a complete moron."

Steve pouts from where he stands, arms crossing defiantly over his chest, “This is not a duo I'm here for at all. I think we should have a rule that you two are not allowed within thirty feet of each other."

“You always try to keep me away from the pretty ones." You roll your eyes, lips set into a smirk as she watch Robin’s cheeks turn a dark shade of strawberry red. For someone with such a tough attitude, she sure was easy to fluster.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “—I hate fighting for your attention. You make me feel like a fool when around ladies with you.”

“I'm sorry," You shrug your shoulders, "Must be a weakness of mine.” You breath a laugh once more, glancing over at Robin, who was already staring.

“Are you flirting with me through Steve right now?" Robin starts shaking her head in disbelief, "Is that what’s happening? — Because, if you are, I’m disappointed in myself that it’s working.”

Steve swiftly turns to you, “My charms have rubbed off on her! She's like a charm-sucking vampire. She’s the reason I can’t get any girls.” He rants, pausing with wide eyes as if he’d came to some great realization, “It all makes sense now...”

“The only thing I’ve gotten from being around you is brain damage.” You respond, with a playful eye roll.

Robin purses her lips and places a hand to her hip, feeling a surge of confidence, "If you want to ever flirt without proxy..." She pulls a black pen from her pocket, then holds out one of her soft hands to take one of yours. You slide yours into her palm without hesitation, both of you sharing a smile.

She quickly finishes scribbling her phone number to the back your hand, her warm fingers brushing across your skin. You feel a small shiver briefly down your spine, throwing you slightly off guard. Robin stands back with a pleased smile, "Call me?"

You smile softly, nodding your head, "Consider it already done."

first fic here, kiiinda nervous... (is the robin fandom even still active here on tumblr?)

interactions are appreciated! 🫶🏻

#robin buckley #robin buckley headcanon #robin buckley oneshot #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley x y/n #stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #maya hawke #wlw #wlw love #fanfic #steve harrington

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strawberryspence · 2 years ago

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Part 1 / Part 2 (please read part 1 first)

Robin Buckley finds birthdays weird. The first one you ever have, all the people around you celebrate while you don’t understand anything. You don’t remember much of the next few ones, maybe your seventh, your eighth.

Robin’s favorite birthday from her childhood is her twelfth. It’s nothing special. But she remembers the day so clearly, her friends, grandparents and parents singing in the park as she blows out candles. She remembers playing at the park for the rest of the day with her friends and this one boy. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and a toothy smile. She remembers telling him it’s her birthday and she remembers the boy softly singing three lines of Happy Birthday as her other friends play in the background. Robin watches him make a flower crown with daisies, before offering it to her, as a birthday present. Robin takes a few daisies, tucks it into his brown hair. Before he leaves, Robin asks him to keep the daisies, to remember her by, and Robin keeps the remnants of the flower crown tucked in an old book somewhere.

Robin’s best birthday ever is her nineteenth birthday. It’s the first of her birthdays that she and Steve celebrate together as bestfriends. Steve makes a big deal out of it. He bakes a chocolate cake, garnished with shaved chocolates on top just the way she likes it. Steve drives them to Indianapolis, takes her to her favorite stores, buys her a tiny rainbow pin and tucking it in her jean jacket with the softest smile. He buys one of his own, tucks it in the sleeve of his ridiculous wine red sweater.

They go home, and at home Steve shows her his room. He’s shy, doesn’t even want to show her. His room, even with dull and colorless wallpaper has never been dull when Steve Harrington is in it. But tonight, it’s filled with the brightest fairylights, stringed around the room, turning it into the smallest and most wonderful wonderland.

“It’s the closest thing to Paris I have right now.”

Because Paris is Robin Buckley’s dream destination. Because Steve Harrington knows her, like the back of his hand. Because Steve Harrington is his soulmate.

There Steve sings her a soft, quiet Happy Birthday and asks her to make a wish. They sit in bed all night, eating the cake with two forks in the same plate, wearing ridiculous party hats, as the lights surround them.

“Someday, we’re going to Paris, watch the lights, and eat some ridiculously expensive cake.” Steve announces.

Robin laughs, “All right. It’s a deal, Dingus.” She playfully puts out her pinky, and Steve laughs, looping his pinky into hers.

Steve gives her his gifts, an old pocket book for touring Europe and a black denim jacket, with sherpa collar. It has patches sewn all over it, carefully choosen and sewn together.

“Dude, did you make this!?” Steve laughs, shaking his head, no. “Well, I didn’t do everything. But I did this.” He takes the coat, flipping it inside out. In the right chest, just above the pocket is a rainbow sewn in patch.

“Steve.” She chokes out, hand shaking as she gently caresses the patch.

Steve smirks at her, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”

Robin laughs, “Stop being so creepy!”

They laugh.

It’s Robin’s best birthday ever.

It’s Robin Buckley’s first birthday with Steve Harrington.

It’s Robin Buckley’s last birthday with Steve Harrington.

Her schmuck, her bestfriend, her soulmate, her Steve. Just gone.

All she has left is money, clothes and a box she can’t even fucking open.

She storms his closet, greedy for anything that had even the smallest hint of his smell, that ridiculous hairspray and some kind of fucking wood that she can’t name. She takes a box out, takes that ridiculous yellow sweater he threw at Eddie. The same sweater they went back for, the same one he cried over, the same one he was clutching as he admitted feeling that hint of electricity with Eddie. She sees the denim vest neatly folded in the bottom of his closet, and Robin knows she needs to give it to Dustin or Wayne or to anyone but she shucks it to the box. She takes his letterman jacket, takes the stripes polo she always made fun of, took some of his old Hawkins shirts, she knows she can’t take everything. Max and Dustin and Erica would want some, but she wants everything she can take, anything that has a smidge left of Steve Harrington. She wants— no, she needs it. Because her bestfriend is just gone.

The moment her hand furls against the familiar fabric, tears fills her eyes. Robin has cried so much in the last twenty-five days that she should be empty, she should be all cried out. But the moment her hand touches the wine red sweater, she breaks, her knees buckling as she falls to the floor with a thud. She touches the sleeves, and something prickly touches her, she knows what it is. But the sight of the raindow pin still tucked in the sleeve makes her scream, a scream stuck between a sob and a wail, as she hugs the sweater closer, Steve’s ridiculous fucking perfume sweeping her nostrils.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Steve Harrington!” She sobs, she hears the door swinging open, and she’s not even sure who’s comforting her, who’s hugging her, but they’re also shaking, chest sobbing. Robin crumples the sweater to her chest, as close as she can as if it’ll squeeze out the essence of her bestfriend.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this without you, please, Steve."

Robin has never cried harder, she’s exhausted, her throat is hoarse, she hasn’t slept in the last twenty-five days and someone is holding her.

If she squeezes her eyes shot hard enough, holds the sweater close enough to smell and imagine. It’s just another day, just another day, she just woke up with a the worst nightmare and Steve is holding her in his familiar arms, lulling her back to sleep, to safety with his warmth.

Robin blacks out. It’s the first night she slept all through the night since Steve Harrington died.

Robin’s twentieth birthday is quiet. The kids, Nancy, Jon and Argyle baked her a cake. It’s not chocolate, but it tasted good. They sing, and Robin acts like she’s making a wish. She doesn't have the heart to tell them that no amount of candles, or birthday wishes, can ever bring back her wish. They watch more than three movies at the Wheeler basement, eat junk, eat cake and laugh, like there aren’t missing holes in their lives.

When the time comes, they all go home. Robin goes home, hangs her black denim jacket on the wall, and just like the days before the box on top of her desk taunts her. She hasn’t opened it yet, not that she knows where the key is. Her bestfriend only decided to be cryptic when he’s already six feet under the ground. Once, Dustin saw it and smiled at her, some kind of understanding flashing in his face, “You haven’t opened it too, huh?”

“How do you want me to open this, you fucking Dingus?” Robin whispers, shaking the box.

A thud makes her turn around, the hook where her jacket was hooked fell of the wall, leaving a dent and a few holes on the wall. Robin squints at it, the hook has been there since she was a child and has never went loose. She slowly moves closer to take the jacket off the floor, when she catches glimpse of the embroidered rainbow patch.

She smiles at it, slowly caressing it, and as if he’s just behind her, a whisper of voice in the back of her mind, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”

“You fucking weirdo.” Robin laughs, tears starting to fill her eyes as she ransacks her room for a seam ripper. When she finds one, she’s laughing like a maniac as she tears a small part of it, not intending to remove the whole patch but just enough to take the key out. Robin squeezes just enough for the key to fall out. And there it is, in her hands, a small golden key.

She scrambles to reach for the box, falling to the floor as she tries to reach for it. She sits on the floor, criss-crossed as her hands shake and tears falls from her eyes. She opens the box.

It’s filled with white envelopes. A small note clipped on the lid:

If you’re opening this, I am sorry. I promise I am with you for every birthday. I tried my best to do as many as I can.

You are my soulmate, Robin Buckley. Maybe in some other universe, I will spend birthdays with you since day one. For this one, I hope this will do.

Happy Birthday. I love you.

- Dingus.

P.S. Go to Paris for the both of us, huh? Buy the most ridiculously expensive chocolate cake you can find.

Robin thumbs over the envelopes, numbering from 20 to 90. With shaky hands, she reaches for 20, gingerly opening it.

It’s a hallmark card, with three ice creams on the front. CONE-GRATULATIONS! It’s your birthday!

Robin chuckles as she opens it, her bestfriends familiar handwriting scribbled on the white card.

Happy 20th, Buckley! I hope to God you don’t get to read this card! I want to be there for your 20th and I sure as hell will be there!

In the off chance that you’re reading this, fuck, I am sorry. I must’ve done something stupid. I am sorry we don’t get to spend more birthdays together. I will be with you through a card every year.

I am so glad you were born, I was nothing without you.

Love you, Robs. Happy Birthday!

— Your schmuck, Steve Harrington

“And I am nothing without you, Steve Harrington.” She gasps, holding the card to her chest, sobs rocking her body as she slips into the red sweater she wears to bed every night.

She hasn’t washed it once and it barely smells like him anymore. She wonders when she’ll forget how he smelled like, wonders if she’ll ever find the perfect candle that smells just like him so she can light it up anytime she needs it, wonders if they’ll ever discontinue the Farrah Fawcet spray she uses in her hair even though she doesn’t need it.

Robin falls asleep with a card clutched in her hand and a sweater that barely smells like her bestfriend anymore.

Robin’s twenty-sixth birthday is when she finally goes to Paris.

She leaves everything in the hotel but the old pocket book Steve gave her and her 26th birthday card.

She buys the most expensive chocolate cake she can find, asks for two forks and finds a sit just in front the bright Eiffel Tower.

She opens her card, laughs, cries, and thinks about what Steve could have been doing beside her right now. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and toothy smile, in a wine red sweater and a scarf around his neck.

She eats her cake. It’s good. But the best chocolate cake she’s ever had was in a bed, in a bedroom filled with lights, eaten with two forks in one plate.

She clutches her coat closer, the wine red sweater keeping her warm, like it always has in the past six years.

She opens the forgotten pocket book. The one Steve gave her on her nineteenth birthday. She’s never opened it, never wanted to face the fact that she’s going alone. The cover is battered, the pages yellowing as she flips the book slowly.

A single piece of picture falls from it. It lands face down. Robin can recognize the handwriting from anywhere.

“This is 12 year old Steve in front of the Eiffel Tower! In a few years, it’ll be you and me! Happy nineteenth birthday, Robs! P.S. Don’t mind the flower! I got it from a friend! Didn’t want to remove it because it’s really old and dry.”

Robin flips the picture, and there he was. Golden hair, brown eyes, and toothy smile. The same boy she played with, but in front of the same tower she’s in front of right now.

A single dried daisy is taped on the corner.

Robin laughs, smiling with tears at the picture.

Way before they both realized, way before they even properly met, way before they scooped ice creams together, way before blood and drugs made them close.

Way before everything, there were two kids, who played together in a park, daisies weaved into their hairs.

Robin Buckley spent her favorite birthday, her best birthday, and will continue to spend the rest of her birthdays with her soulmate.

Because even beyond the grave, her soulmate will never let her celebrate alone.

Steve Harrington will be there, one way or another.

(again, i am very sorry. if it helps u feel better i can barely see through the tears while writing this)

#wine red sweater is the sweater steve was wearing when he dropped of dustin to the snow ball #stobin forever <33333 #my favorite platonic soulmates.#dae writes #daeheadcanons #stranger things headcanons #stranger things fic #stobin headcanon #stobin my favorite platonic soulmates #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie headcanon #steddie #stranger things #tw major character death #tw mcd

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