#smoker steve harrington

[soupinaboot]

Fuck it. Every Steve Harrington headcannon I have because I've been rotating that boy in my head like a pig on a stick

- Has had glasses since he was young but mostly wore contacts throughout high school due to being bullied in middle school for looking like a nerd

- Plays the piano or the violin, your pick

- In addition to the piano, he mostly plays jazz cause thats my favorite genre and I think it would be his too

- Has ALWAYS had horrible migraines but have since been a lot more difficult to deal with due to you know all that other shit that's been going on

- Does not know popular culture, I know it's very popular within the fandom that he only listences to what's on the radio or watchs only the recent released movies but that boy could barely name a single movie he does NOT know popular shit (this also goes with my jazz headcannon that he mostly just listenes to jazz in the car or at home)

- Surprisingly amazing at chess, no one in the party has managed to beat him

- Horror fan(books,shows,movies,etc)

- His best subject in school was math and I will die on this hill

- Between him and Eddie, he is the black cat

- Bisexual obviously, but a really do like the headcanon that he kinda knew he liked boys when he was younger and doesn't need Robin or Eddie to tell him(he was the one telling Robin that Vickie could like both just saying)

- Also asexual maybe

- Can cook

- SMOKER!!! He smokes in the first season, and in the third he makes a reference to smoking marijuana, he is NOT new to this

- Has really bad bedhead

- I can see him as having some form of OCD or ADHD

I'm forgetting most so be prepared for a part 2

Part 2

[bigdumbbambieyes]

“Hoar.”

Billy’s hand stops to hover over his mouth, his morning cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger as he turns to look over at Steve with a scrunched nose, “What did you call me?”

His pretty boy grins with a laugh and shakes his head, motions with a tilt of his head, “The hoar frost, on the trees. There’s a lot today.”

Blue eyes scan the trees in front of them, admiring the way the morning sunrise reflects off the bare, frosted branches. They look like little diamonds. Pretty. He’d noticed it before today, obviously, but never thought it would have a name. Especially that kind of name.

He takes a drag with a half shrug, feeling Steve’s arm wrap around his middle and then the warmth of his body. It’s appreciated, especially where they’re standing in Steve’s backyard just outside the back door.

No smoking in the house, Billy, he can hear Mrs. H say in his mind.

A warm cup of coffee appears at his mouth, Steve holding it up with a small smile. Billy takes a careful sip and hums his thanks when his boyfriend pulls it away.

“Hoar frost, hm?” He hums smartly as he flicks the ash off his cigarette, “Didn’t think a whore could be pretty until I saw you,” he smirks.

Steve rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but that easy smile is still on his face, “Oh, I’m flattered,” he drawls around the rim of his cup, “And I’ve heard that one before.”

“Brat,” Billy chuckles, leaning against his boyfriend as he takes another drag, feeling Steve laugh along with him.

He savours the frosty morning for what it is: peace.

[zaphodkilledthespeedforce]

Imagine instead of shotgunning weed as The Move, Eddie lights Steve's cigarette with the cherry of his own. They both have to inhale softly at the same time. They're inches away from each other. They're focusing on each other's mouths to get that cigarette lit evenly. When the cherry finally ignites on Steve's cigarette, they're both illuminated in a soft, almost orange glow for just a moment. A moment that'll be burned in both their minds.

[metalhoops]

By not letting Steve and Eddie fight side by side we were not only robbed of seeing Steve and Eddie fight back-to-back with a nail bat and shield. But we also missed the opportunity for the Molotov cocktail to fail in the big fight against Vecna, leaving Steve ‘great at shotgunning beer’ Harrington and Eddie ‘chain-smoker’ Munson to make do with what they have and their whits. 

I’m imagining Steve racing to the rescue, grabbing the remains of the bottle, cutting his lip as he takes a long swig of vodka and gestures for Eddie to throw him his lighter. What ensues is a scene of Steve spitting blood and fire to set Vecna ablaze. Leaving Eddie and his years-long obsession with dragons and Steve Harrington to implode on site. 

[pearlypairings]

why did I forget he smoked during this scene??? lol

STEVE HARRINGTON Stranger Things, 1.02 - The Weirdo on Maple Street

[kaivenom]

Kai Venom's Masterlist

This masterlist will have all of the fandoms and then you can enter the specific one you like.

Having in mind that this blog is relatively new, there will be a lot of blank spaces on the masterlist for now, but i hope that we can fill it up, in some time.

Under the fandom, there will be the characters i write for, but you can always try to request something new (i am full on with surprises).

New fandoms and characters will be added will be added.

Original Writings

HCS for fandoms (new species, cannon world expansions, etc)

OC's

Original writtings ideas, stories and updates

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Colin Bridgerton

Cobra Kai

Miguel Díaz

Robby Keene

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz

Demetri Alexopoulos

Johnny Lawrence

Daniel Larruso

Dc Comics

Bruce Wayne "Batman"

Dick Grayson "Nightwing"

Jason Todd "Red Hood"

Damian Wayne "Robin"

Tim Drake "Red Robin"

Conner Kent

Jonathan Kent

Clark Kent "Superman"

Barry Allen "Flash"

Wally West "Kid Flash"

Nate Heywood "Steel"

Rick Flag

Christopher Smith "Peacemaker"

Adrian Chase "Vigilante"

George Harkness "Captain Boomerang"

Billy Batson "Shazam"

Descentants

Ben Florian

Harry Hook

Gil

Carlos D Vil

Jay

Harry Potter World

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Ominis Gaunt

Sebastian Sallow

Garreth Weasley

Heartbreak High

Spencer "Spider" White

Anthony "Ant" Vaughn

Douglas "Cash" Piggott

Malakai Mitchell

Dusty Reid

Jujutsu Kaisen

Itadori Yuuji

Sukuna Ryomen

Nanami Kento

Megumi Fushiguro

Toji Fushiguro

Gojo Satoru

Choso

Julie and the phantoms

Luke Patterson

Reggie Peters

Marvel

Spiderman (the 3 versions)

Miguel O'hara

Steve Rogers "Captain America"

Tony Stark "Ironman"

Quicksilver (the 2 versions)

Peter Quill "Starlord"

Loki

Thor

Bucky "Winter Soldier"

Stephen Strange "Dr. Strange"

Venom/Eddie Brock

Moon Knight

Ciclops

Angel

Havok

One Piece

Monkey D. Luffy

Roronoa Zoro

Vinsmoke Sanji

Ussop

Trafalgar Law

Eustass Kidd

Killer

Dracule Mihawk

Sir Crocodile

Donquixote Doflamingo

Shanks

Smoker

Portgas D. Ace

Sabo

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

Peaky Blinders

Thomas Shelby

John Shelby

Arthur Shelby

Finn Shelby

Michael Gray

Slashers

Bowers Gang

Ghostface

Sinclair brothers (from House of Wax)

Stranger things

Garreth Emerson

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Gabriel "The Trickster"

Jack Kline

Castiel

The Bear

Carmy Berzatto

Luca

The umbrella academy

Five Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

Vikings

Ivar the boneless

Ubbe Ragnarson

Hvitserk Ragnarson

Bjorn Ironside

Sigurd Ragnarson

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 71

Part 1 Part 70

Eddie doesn’t realize how in tune he is with Steve until the connection with him slackens and then yanks. He almost doesn’t have a choice but to follow it, reeled in like on the line, but it doesn’t matter; Eddie Munson will always go where Steve Harrington leads him.

He rounds the playground at a dead sprint, smoker’s lungs protesting but he doesn’t slow until he sees Steve. It takes him a second to realize what’s happening because Steve isn’t running from some creature Dustin had brought to school. He’s just standing there.

It's not like last time in the closet, though. Or in Wayne’s truck, or Will’s bed. He’s not staring off into the distance, vacant and gone, no. His eyelids are flickering violently beneath his lids. It’s like he’s having a nightmare.

“Steve?” he shouts, clutching Steve’s shoulders and shaking. When nothing happens, he moves his hand up to Steve’s neck, hoping the skin-to-skin contact brings him back.

It doesn’t. Steve’s skin is cool, the winter air leeching away his warmth.

“Steve, please come back,” he demands, his other hand moving up to cradle his neck. He wants to ring it, choke the life out of him rather than lose him to whatever this is. His fingers flex, biting into his skin just a little.

Eddie hears a door behind him open with a crash as it bangs into something with the force of its swinging. He doesn’t turn around to see who the feet running up behind him are, doesn’t care until he feels the bright, shining dot that is Will Byers moving toward him.

He stops at his side, bright and sharp and so fucking warm. Eddie turns, still clutching Steve’s neck. Will reaches out, fingers hesitating by Steve’s shoulder as he looks up at Steve’s face with shining eyes.

“Please, baby Byers?” he asks, voice breaking on the tears clogging his throat.

Will meets his eyes, looking up, up, up at where Eddie stands, asking something of him that’s unfair. He’s too small for this. Too scared. Too young. But Steve’s convulsing beneath Eddie’s fingers and he can’t fucking breath. “Please.”

The door opens again, more bodies pouring out, the loud voices of the party doing fuck-all to break Eddie’s focus on Will. Will who doesn’t even have to ask what he means. Will barely hesitates before he’s reaching out.

Someone shouts, “no!” desperate and breaking. Eddie thinks it’s Mike, but he doesn’t turn away from Will, can’t as he watches his small hand inch forward to cover Eddie’s own on Steve’s neck. He has to reach so far, arm extending to its limit.

The warmth of his palm on the back of Eddie’s hand makes him gasp, squeezing Steve’s throat tighter. He doesn’t stop Will from creeping his hand forward, pushing his fingers in the spaces between Eddie’s own and sinking down until he’s touching Steve’s chilled skin.

Part 72

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect

[bettyfrommars]

When the Night Comes

Steve Harrington x Reader

I received an ask from @madaboutjoe for option #2 from our Stranger Prompts which is: You mistake him for the man who is supposed to be your blind date, and he goes along with it, with Steve. I put my own spin on it and made it extra weird.

18+ONLY for horror, mention of gore and adult themes, fear of the unknown, hurt/comfort I suppose, she/her pronouns used for reader. WC: 11.8k

Summary: After being single for a while, a personal ad in the classifieds catches your eye, and the guy who posted it invites you to meet for coffee. There's a tree blocking the road, causing you to detour, and once you get to Hawkins you find it's not at all what you expected. Mention of Robin, and appearances from Hopper, Joyce, and Eddie Munson.

Author's Note: This was inspired by the horror show From (which I highly recommend), but you do not have to be familiar with it to understand/enjoy this. In fact, it might be even better if you don't know anything about it. Also, the Benny's described in this fic is a cross between the original burger joint and the diner in the show.

--------

It was mostly by accident that Steve and Robin took over Benny’s. One day, they were hunkering down there to hide, scared as hell, trying not to make a sound, and the next thing they knew, they were painting the walls and adding items to the menu.  

When caught in a hellscape, it was important to have a place to go to bask in the illusion of safety, even if just for a meal.  

Things generally slowed down in the afternoon on Wednesdays, as it was post lunch rush and right before the seniors dropped in for that early bird special.  Robin was with Vickie tending to the farm animals across town, and the only customers at the time were Claudia Henderson chatting with a friend over coffee and pie.  Steve would bus the table once he made a list of supplies he’d need to go searching for the next day.  .  

At a booth nearest the front door, in his trusty red and black flannel that was missing two buttons and a pair of jeans, Steve wore a white apron around his waist. He took the blue bandana off his head to let his glossy mane flop free, running a hand through it a few times, sweeping it to one side.

2

“Is this it?” You mumbled from behind the steering wheel of your car, peering ahead through the windshield at the first signs of a town after a long stretch of forest.  The pavement was cracked and worn, giving you a passing thought about where their tax dollars were going if not to those improvements.  The Welcome to Hawkins sign was just as weathered and also pockmarked with bullet holes.  

A certain gloom settled around the town, like those places that exist in the lower valley between two mountains, nestled in a sea of fog.  The afternoon had been fairly bright and sunny until you approached the Hawkins border and had to take your sunglasses off in order to see.  

He said you’d be able to see it from the road, that burger place Steve said he’d meet you at.  You took a right down the first street and craned your neck to read a sign scrawled in black marker on a sandwich board out in front of the post office:

62 Days Without Incident

You didn’t have long to ponder it before you were pulling into the parking spot at the far end of Benny’s.  One of the windows had a menacing spider web crack in it that appeared to be mended with duct tape, and if not for the station wagon in the lot and the dim lighting inside, you’d think the building was abandoned.

Hawkins felt like someone's memory of a town, and the memory was fading.

“It’s just coffee,” you whispered, pacing on the other side of the building near your car.  “It’s just coffee with a complete stranger.”

A complete stranger you contacted through a personal ad in the paper, to be exact.  

You considered having a smoke first, but didn’t want the nicotine smell to cling to you.  Maybe he was also an occasional smoker, you’d have to wait and see.  You stepped into view of the front window, and then jerked yourself back to lean against the slate gray wall, cringing as if you’d just stubbed your toe.

You hadn’t been on a date in over a year, but there was something about the ad in the classifieds that made him sound so…normal.  Unlike the others. 

SWM 5’10, brown hair, hazel eyes, 30yr old business owner, hopeful romantic seeks SF for friendship and adventure with the potential for something more.  I like to cook and want to make you laugh. UB kind, curious, homebody looking for LTR.     

You’d left a message for him in the extension given by the paper, and then he’d messaged you back almost immediately, inviting you to an afternoon coffee date at a diner in Hawkins.  

You were 98% certain that he did not have the voice of a serial killer, whatever that meant.  

Fairly new to Indiana, you’d never ventured to Hawkins before, and there happened to be a downed tree blocking the exit you would usually take to the highway, forcing you to use the backroads instead.

A glance at your watch let you know you were fifteen minutes early, all things considered.   

The interior of the diner was cozy dark wood with cream tile at your feet.  Burnt orange nestled here and there as accents, including on the vinyl covers for the booth seats. A cigarette smoldered in a brown glass ashtray nearby, and to your right, two women spoke softly across the table to each other, but paused mid-conversation to nod suspiciously in your direction.

Maybe you’d have a chance to find a seat and order something to drink before he—-

3

Steve had to do a double take when he looked up at the sound of the bell ding.  There was a stain on his white Hanes tee the shape of Australia and faint purple moons carved under overly caffeinated, bloodshot eyes. 

 At first, he assumed you were just another patron, but then you met his casual stare with enthusiasm, and offered a nervous yet generous smile, beelining in his direction as if the two of you were familiar.  

You were new, and such a thing was a rare and unsettling thing to see in Hawkins.  

He’d asked Robin to put fliers up at the post office and the library announcing that they were looking for waitstaff help, but that was only a few hours ago.  Surely, someone wasn’t inquiring already.

It was hard for you not to run in the other direction when you saw how handsome he was.  What the hell was a guy that good looking doing paying to post a personal ad?  Better question—-what was a person like you doing answering one?  

He’d been frowning down at the notepad in front of him before he glanced up, warm maple hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. Brown diner mug near his elbow, confusion tightened around his eyes when you jutted an arm out to shake his hand.

You introduced yourself.  “And I thought I was the early one,” your cheeks felt hot, clutching your bag to your side.  

“Uh, hi,” was all he could manage at the time, returning the generous hand squeeze.  It took him a few seconds, but then he realized what the only possible explanation could be.  “You must be here because of the ad?”

You slid into the booth seat across from him.  Maybe he was trying to be funny, like it was some type of dry wit.

“Am I not what you were expecting?” 

“No, no, that’s not—” he stammered, jerking his arm to the side so fast that he hit the coffee mug, causing liquid to splash out onto the table. He clawed some napkins out of the dispenser to wipe up the spill, a stray curl of hair bobbing over his forehead as he did so. “I just mean, I wasn’t expecting you this early, that’s all.”  

You weren’t what he’d been expecting to walk through his door that afternoon in many ways.  

First of all, he was attracted to you, so taking you in as an employee might not be the brightest idea, but also, why had he never seen you around before? Even if he didn’t know everyone in Hawkins personally, they’d all for sure crossed his path at one point.

The town was funny like that.

A hard pit in his stomach told him that you weren’t from town at all, and he really hoped that was not the case, for your sake. 

A few beats of silence hung in the air, and the bell dinged again to herald the exit of Claudia and her friend, chattering as they went.  

“Is the food good here?” You settled back in your seat, eying the display case near the register while shrugging out of your coat.  “The pies look yummy.”

Like a trout thrown to the ground, Steve’s mouth opened and closed a few times, and he pushed the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows, finding his words.  “They’re pretty good, yeah, I think. The guy who makes them is a bit of a nut and takes his pastries pretty seriously.”

There were creased paper menus that looked hand-typed tucked in between the ketchup and the tiny, tableside jukebox.  You grabbed one and put it in front of you, eyes roaming over the words without really reading a thing.  

“I didn’t expect you to be so handsome,” your tongue was often faster than your brain, and you flicked a nervous glance up at him after realizing what you’d said.  “Sorry.”

Totally inappropriate for a professional conversation, but why did it make Steve feel all tingly? 

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered.  To avoid eye contact, he picked up the nearby pencil and started drawing squiggles on the yellow notepad in front of him.  

“Do you have any experience waiting tables?” He cut right to the chase, not that any experience would make a difference. He wasn’t going to be able to pay you, anyway, that wasn’t how it worked around there.  

You were not at all thrown off by the question; you figured there’d be a good helping of small talk.

“For a year in high school, yeah,” you were flicking the corner of the menu with your thumb.  “It was a 24 hour waffle house. Met a lot of interesting people.”

“I bet.” He tried to sound casual, but the nervous eruption of a laugh bubbled out.

So, there it was: you were definitely not from there.  

The idea that you would soon go through the stages of shock and denial and depression that was common for everyone who resided in what they’d once known as Hawkins, made his stomach drop.  

He didn’t want to be the one to watch the light drain from your eyes.  

4

You straightened up from staring at the menu to search for whoever might be behind the kitchen hatch.  “Do we walk up there to give our order? Or will someone come to the table?”

“That’s, um, I can—let me,” Steve stuttered before taking a breath. “Uh, do you know what you want?”

“Just iced tea for now I think,” you were concentrating on the offerings, bottom lip sucked in between your teeth.  “I’m not very hungry. Some of those steak fries maybe? Would you eat some with me?”

There were plenty of mysteries about the town that no one had been able to solve yet, including the way vegetable crops and farm animals showed up in various spots out of the blue. People found garbage bags full of packaged, grocery store quality bread in their backyards as if dropped from the sky.  A few months ago while scavenging, Jonathan Byers stumbled upon a concrete door in the ground that led to a bunker stocked with endless dry goods. Steve didn’t ask questions much anymore, he was just grateful they had resources.

He figured whatever trapped them all there wanted to toy with them and fattened them up for the kill.  

There was something very casual and familiar about your disposition that made him even more curious about what universal tide washed you up onto his shore.

To most people, ending up in their corner of the world felt like a punishment, but one that they’d somewhat adapted to over time. One day, hopefully, you would find your peace with it too.  Maybe even share a piece of pie with him and tell him stories about what he’d missed out in the real world.  

For now, you’d have iced tea and fries and pretend none of the horrors were real.

Steve got up from the booth, tucking his chin as he spoke.   “I’m serious, I’ll make you anything you want.  I mean, within reason.”

Your head snapped up.  “Wait, you work here?”

He couldn’t help but frown at your genuine display of confusion.

“I kinda run the place, yeah. It’s not much but,” he shrugged. “My best friend and I, we—”

You blinked a few times.  “I feel so stupid, I didn’t realize—”

“You’re not stupid,” he interrupted, planting his hands square on his hips. “Gimme…ten minutes, okay? Just need to throw them in the fryer.”

Your head snapped a few quick nods in a row, unable to settle the feelings of embarrassment.

“Oh, wait,” he spun around, snapping his fingers once in the air.  “You like lemon in your tea?” 

“Sure.” The more you looked around, the more you sensed something was really…off about the place.  Not just the diner, but the entire town. 

Outside, the grass was either dead or overgrown and there’d been a wrecked car--possibly and old Chrysler LeBaron---sticking out of an empty public pool on the corner when you first drove in.  You remembered the way those two women at the other table glared at you, like maybe you were not at all welcome there at all, no matter what the tattered doormat out front said.  

Steve returned to set your iced tea in front of you.  There were a couple cubes of ice in the glass, a pretty lemon wedge perched on the lip, and a straw sticking out of it with the paper end still on to protect the sanitation of it.  The only odd thing was the pint glass that it came in: it said Shiloh Inn Lounge on it.  

“Sugar?” At first you thought he was calling you by a pet name and it gave you a heart palpitation,  but instead he set a few packets of actual sugar down that were all different brands. “If you like.”

His eyes were kind and weary and you sensed a weight hanging in the air like maybe he wanted to tell you something but didn’t know how.

He hovered there, refusing to sit back down, and you took that as a hint that he just wasn’t feeling a connection.  If that was the case, you didn’t want to waste any more of your time.  

“If you’re not interested, I understand,” you took the paper off of your red and white striped straw.  “That’s what things like this are for, right? To see if you want to get to know someone better.”

He frowned, cocking his head to one side, curling his lip. “Not interested?”

“You know…in me.” You squeezed a bit of the lemon in. A seed shot out and almost got you in the eye.

Steve softened, crossing one arm over his chest to hold onto the other, absently guarding himself.  “Okay, but why wouldn’t I be interested in you?”

You snorted a laugh.  “You can just say I’m not your type, it’s fine.  You don’t have to be weird about it.”

Outside, an avocado green Ford Pinto pulled up to the curb and parked.  

5

“Why did you come here?” He asked, massaging the elbow area where he clutched his arm.

You considered the weight of that question and all of the answers you could give.  Practically everyone you loved was either dead or no longer a part of your life.  You hated your job with the intensity of a thousand suns, but you’d acquired too much debt to up and quit.  There was no family money or support to act as a safety net; no savings account to pull from.  The last time you were in a committed relationship, you had your heart tramped, and to be honest, your wounds from that were still open and weeping.

All things on the table, you had no business floundering around in the dating world.  You were the walking wounded just looking for a distraction from the emptiness.  

Why did you come here?

“To meet you, obviously,” you scowled into your drink, trying to mask a hot wave of insecurity.  It felt like a hornet was stuck in your throat.  “But I can just go back the way I came, it’s no biggie.”

“See, that’s just it,” he wet his lips a few times.  “You can’t go back the way you came. No one can.”

His heart stuttered at the idea of having to break the news to you right then, or ever, but it would be dark soon, and he’d need to make sure you were safe. Leaving you out without protection, out there for The Others to find you was not an option.  

That made you bark a laugh.  “Oh yeah? What is this? Hotel California?”

The accuracy made him feel like someone just dropped an ice cube down the back of his shirt. “Something like that, yeah.”

The front bell dinged again and in walked a dark haired woman with one of the most likable faces you’d ever seen.  The shins of her jeans were dirty like she’d been working in the garden, and there was a tear in the shoulder seam of the hunter green button-down shirt that she’d left untucked.  It was about 2 sizes too big for her, sleeves rolled up so that her hands wouldn’t drown in the material.  

She looked right at you and a vacant smile quivered at the corners of her mouth, as if she was forcing it in place with all her mite. It felt like she had absolutely nothing to be smiling about, but wanted to put you at ease. 

“Hi I’m Joyce,” she held one open palm up in greeting, approaching with the caution of someone trying not to scare off a feral cat.  

“Word travels fast,” Steve muttered under his breath, introducing you.

“Hopper saw the car on his way by,” she progressed to wringing her hands in front of her.  “And I came over to see if it was true.  To see if…see if you needed any help…

…it will be dark in an hour or so.”

They were having a private conversation with their eyes right in front of you and a heady mix of disorientating fear prickled the back of your neck.  

“I think I missed something,” you fisted a handful of the material on your jacket, ready to head for the door.  “I think this was a bad idea.”

But the two of them were blocking your path at that point, and you sensed they had no intention of moving.

“Hey, listen,” Joyce made a steeple out of her hands as if she were about to pray.  “I know this is absolutely not what you want to hear, and believe me, I know it’s bonkers, but we can’t let you get back on that road tonight.”

Your mouth went dry and you turned to Steve thinking he might offer comfort, but his jaw was set, muscles ticking on one side as he ground his back teeth.  

“You can’t be serious.”  You let out a chuckle that was void of humor.

Joyce vibrated loving mother energy and as much as you wanted to get out of that diner, you also wanted to hear whatever it was she had to say.  Maybe even get a hug from her.

“I know this sucks,” she continued.  “It sucks and there’s a lot we need to explain to you, but pretty soon…the roads won’t be safe.”

Your breath caught in your chest, tightening there.

“There’s a spare bedroom at my place,” her expression made it seem like she was offering you a trip to Disneyland. “Clean sheets, I’ve got some soup on the stove. I can take you there now and we can have some coffee, you can meet my sons, and I’ll tell you everything, but you can’t drive back into the woods.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass,” despite the tough exterior, your voice wavered.  “Not to sound ungrateful for the hospitality, but this is crazy.”

You waited for them to burst into laughter and tell you they were kidding.  Ha. Ha. 

“It is fucking crazy, tell me about it,” Steve mumbled. “We just want to make sure you…” he trailed off, staring up as if trying to remember his lines. 

The entire thing was turning out to be some twilight zone shit, and it was no longer amusing. Sure, Steve was hot and you already liked him plenty, but clearly there was lead paint in the water or black mold in the walls because the two people in front of you were off their rockers. 

Your steady gaze landed on your blind date.  “Is that why you put the ad in the paper? So that you could get me here and abduct me?”

“Paper?” Confused, he frowned at Joyce and then at you.  “What paper? What ad?”

Ice and thorns shot through your blood.

“The personal ad, Steve. The one you put in the gazette, the one I answered.  You left a message saying to meet you here.”

When they talk about a “pregnant” pause, well that pause gripped the air like it was having quadruplets. 

“Personal ad?” Joyce peered at Steve, but he only shrugged and shook his head like he had no idea what was going on.  Because he didn’t. 

You raised your voice then, practically shouting.  “And why do you two keep looking at each other like that? What am I missing? You invited me here for coffee and now you’re telling me I can’t leave? This is bullshit, I’m sorry, I’m going.”

You prepared yourself to fight to get beyond them, but they parted easily and gave no resistance when you bolted from the booth, strapping your bag across your body with a grumbled curse.  

“I didn’t put a personal ad in any paper,” Steve said softly, but his words had enough impact to make you freeze in your tracks halfway to the door.  

6

Hawkins, as they knew it, didn’t even have a circulating newspaper anymore.  Nancy and a few others kept The Post going for as long as possible to keep morale afloat with a sense of normalcy, but after a while started to run out of supplies and purpose for such an endeavor, especially since they had no line to the outside world.  She did publish a pamphlet every so often that announced local events, and whenever one of The Others got a hold of a member of the community, she would be the one to break the news to those who weren’t privy to the information.  

…62 Days Without Incident….

“Who did I come here to meet then?” You kept your back to them, asking the question more to yourself.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’ll explain everything to you once we—” Joyce hugged herself as she spoke, watching you storm the rest of the way to the door and then jerk it open to the tune of a violent rattling of the bell.

“Please, wait!” Steve jogged to your side.

“I want you to have this,” he tugged down the front of his shirt to pull out a quarter size, oblong chunk of rock attached to some type of cream colored string.  He lifted it up over his head, fluffing the back of his hair in the process, and held it out to you.

There was some sort of design on the smoke gray stone, a symbol that itched a part of your brain as being familiar.

He had it dangling in front of your face and your stare narrowed beyond the swinging cord to find the colors in his hazel eyes swirling like some uncharted universe.  They made you want to go swimming in the stars.

“If you want to go, I can’t stop you,” he shifted close enough for you to smell the fruity scent of his hair product and coffee on his breath.  “But please wear this.”

You winced at the necklace without touching it.  “What is that?”

You might as well have been asking him to teach you conversational German in the span of ten minutes, even though he only knew a few letters from their alphabet.  

“As long as you have this with you inside wherever you are, They can’t get to you.  I’m telling you, I don’t even know how it works.  But, if you won’t stay here with me or go with Joyce, I need you to put this on and keep all of the windows up on your car.  All of the doors stay locked, got it?”

“Who is They?” You did not receive a verbal answer to your questions, only more clandestine looks.

It hit you like a flying brick just then that they were indeed not being malicious, nor were they trying to drug you to put you in a well and skin you alive.  Steve and Joyce truly believed everything they were telling you: 

Some unspecified Things come out at nightfall and kill people, but wearing a stone around your neck magically keeps them at bay. Got it. 

You didn’t know why they came across as so sheltered and endangered when anyone could hop on the highway and be back in civilization in ten minutes.  There were probably wild animals out there in the woods; coyotes and wolves and maybe even bears, and those were the things that showed up to terrorize the locals at nightfall, not some nocturnal horde of zombies.  

Your survival instinct won out over curiosity, and you mumbled “bye Steve” over your shoulder, dashing out into the parking lot.

Behind you, Joyce took hold of Steve’s arm to keep him from following in your wake.

“She’ll have to learn this one the hard way, unfortunately,” she whispered to him. “Like most of us did.”

They watched you throw yourself in behind the steering wheel, and then heard your door lock after it slammed shut.

“I’ll fix up the cot in the supply room just in case she—-” he didn’t finish, but Joyce knew what he meant. 

You’d be back once you realized there was nowhere else to go, and hopefully your pride wouldn’t keep you out too long after dark. He’d wait up and keep the light on.

Without one of the stones of protection, it wouldn’t matter if you were in a concrete bunker, The Others would still be able to get to you if they wanted to.  

Maybe if you got stranded in your car, you’d be smart enough to hide under a blanket and stay quiet until morning.  

What if you tried to run from them on foot or, worse yet, tried to physically defend yourself? 

As far as Steve knew, those things they called The Others couldn’t be stopped. 

7

You literally squealed out of town, tires leaving fishtail skid marks on the pavement. 

“What the fuck was that?” You mumbled, breathless, eyeballing the two in your rearview mirror as you got back on the highway and were swallowed up by fog.  

The misty forest continued for about a mile, and then it wasn’t long before you were approaching another town.  Had you somehow passed through a similar place without realizing on your way in? Seemed impossible, but you rationalized it as first date nerves getting the best of you.

And what a fucking bonkers “first date” that had been.  One for the books. 

Shame because Steve had one of those faces you’d never get tired of looking at.  

All the same, you were grateful to be out of Hawkins, but you needed gas.  You’d be able to get home with what you had in the tank, but didn’t want to have to take time to fill up on your way to work in the morning.  

On your right, you passed another weathered Welcome to Hawkins sign.

No, that was a mistake.  The natural light was fading rapidly but surely you’d misread it without your headlights on.

You slowed to honor the speed limit through to the center of whatever town it was.  There was an establishment called Melvald’s, a Radio Shack, and further down was a Family Video, but the streets were deserted.  It was barely dusk and not a single soul strolled the sidewalks or drove by in a vehicle.  

A church bell rang in the distance, and you spotted a woman hustling three young children up a flight of stairs. The youngest didn’t seem to be taking the steps fast enough, so she picked him up and carried him the rest of the way to a door that slammed shut as once they were all inside.  

They were acting as if the moonlight was poison and they couldn’t get any on their skin.

Pink and orange blossomed over the horizon while the sun sank behind the mountains, and the church bell persisted with its haunting tune.  A little further and there were cars parked outside of fenced houses, but not a single human or animal to be found. A pair of seats on a swing set swayed back and forth as if occupied by ghosts.

Coming to a halt at a stop sign, there was a very familiar sight:

62 Days Without Incident

The same sandwich board, the same cursive handwriting in black marker in front of the same red brick post office building.

“Nononono..no. This is not right…” you started mumbling to yourself, inching along the pavement.

It wasn't long before you spotted the empty swimming pool with the back end of a wrecked car sticking out of it.  If you turned down that first street, you knew you’d find Benny’s Burgers and Steve probably at the front window, waiting with flex cuffs to tie you up in his basement.

You’d missed a turn, that was all. That was the only explanation.

You went extra slow the next time through the forest, making sure to spot whatever exit or turn you’d missed before.

But then the trees opened up to a town and there was the Welcome to Hawkins sign.  Melvald’s and Radio Shack.  Family Video. 62 Days Without Incident.  Wrecked car in an empty pool.

White knuckle grip on the wheel, frustrated tears welled hot at your lash line.  

“This can’t be right.”

You tried it again, going no more than 10 mph through the woods, and it didn’t help that the smog was billowing thick as cream.

Why hadn’t you passed any other cars on the road?

On your fourth time back around, after a good cry, you reasoned that maybe you’d taken the wrong way out of town somehow, but you’d have to ask someone in the morning and try again due to the staggering lack of visibility you were currently faced with. 

Plus, according to your gas gauge, you’d be coasting on nothing but fumes soon.

Wiping wet cheeks with the back of your hand, you flicked the blinker and coasted in under a metal awning alongside two gas pumps that were connected to a single mechanics garage and a mini mart.

“Please be open,” you said to the glass front door of the service station which, once again, looked like it had been abandoned for the evening, or possibly for the entire year. 

When you turned the engine off you realized that the church bell was no longer thumping to the beat of your headache, and the dead calm silence settled around like a veil, much like the ambiance of a horror film.

The type of horror film your character didn’t make it out of.

You shook your head and thought about slapping yourself in the face.  This was all just some wild mixup.  You’d get gas, get a room at the motel you’d spotted a few blocks back, and find your bearings first thing in the morning.  

Deep breaths in and out of your nose a few times while you sat trying to psych yourself up to get out and find someone to pay for the gas, pending the pumps weren’t dry.

Relief blossomed when you spotted a person approaching from the street.  With each steady step, they took their time to cross the distance, as if calculating if they should .

“Oh thank god, a person,” you said on an exhale.

8

He was balding, but his dishwater blonde hair was combed over to try and hide it, he wore an oddly formal brown suit jacket and slacks. Polka dot orange and chocolate necktie, his hands relaxed at his sides, he reminded you of a used car salesman thinking he spotted an easy mark.  

The smile was wide and plastered to his face, unwavering, as if his teeth were clamped shut and he was gritting through some private pain

“Hey,” you said, stepping out of the car, but keeping the open door in front of you as a barrier. “I was hoping to get some gas.  Do you happen to know if anyone works here?”

His pace did not falter, nor did his deranged grin. 

You thought maybe he hadn’t heard you clearly at first, so you waited for him to get a few feet closer.  Nearly three car lengths away at that point and you made the decision to stay put, ignoring the sharp gut instinct telling you to start the engine and go.  

“Sorry, do you work here?” You weren’t sure why that came out of your mouth considering his attire. “I only need a couple gallons.  I have cash if—-”

“You shouldn’t be here,” the smiling man said, maintaining a show of teeth.

He also said your name.  Somehow, he knew your name.

An alarm went off in your gut.  “Do I know you?”

You hadn’t yet had time to process the idea that you’d gone to the wrong place entirely for your date, and Steve wasn’t even the one you were supposed to meet.  

The smiling man got closer, only a car length away by then.  

With a start, you noticed that a woman in an old fashioned Nurse uniform—like the type one might wear for Halloween—was not far behind the man in the suit, headed toward you at the same pace with her hair done in two platinum blonde braids..

Her smile was not as wide but just as unsettling.  

“Hello?” You yelled in the direction of the service station, knowing you should go over and try to knock, but your feet felt like they had concrete shoes on.  

“Hello?” A high-pitched voice came from somewhere behind you, and it was clearly mocking, complete with a maniacal giggle at the end.  

You spun around to find that the smog was a curtain, and you were unable to see beyond it.  It was gathering around you legs too, as if preparing to drag you into the void.

Disoriented and panting, you watched a car come flying up over the curb, gunning the engine so hard that one of the hubcaps flew off.

The avocado green Ford Pinto caught air for a second before the bumper crashed into the smiling man, bending him in half like a rag doll.  It pinned him into the stone of the building with a loud, sickening crunch. 

You would’ve screamed but your breath caught on a sharp inhale, making you choke.  

Clearly broken by the impact, the smiling man’s expression never faultered, and he was still staring pointedly at you while bits from the wall crumbled around him.

Black blood dripped from his lips and eyes like tar.

“Fuckfuckfuckwhatthefuck,” you babbled while Joyce flapped her arms to try and get your attention from the window of the passenger seat.

“Hurry, get in!” She shouted, her voice cracking at the end.

Steve was driving, and he backed up enough so that the body of the smiling man slumped to the ground.

Throwing the vehicle into park, Steve bolted from his seat with what looked like a baseball bat covered in jumbo nails like a medieval mace. 

He swung to strike the woman in the nurse uniform with it, but missed, and she hissed at him. Her mouth grew 5 times its original size, crowded full with rows of sharp teeth.  Her eyes stretched into empty, cavernous holes with nothing behind them, her fingers were long claws and her…her….

It was then that you realized you were screaming.

9

“Steve watch out!” Joyce had a hold of your hand, dragging you along with all of her mite.

The thing that was once the woman in the nurse uniform let out a shrill cry just before the nail bat made contact with its skull.  Its head whacked into the side of the Pinto and bounced off, causing a spray of black blood.

It barely made a difference.  

It lunged jerkily and swiped at him; mouth gaping, eyes two spirling tunnels to hell, but before it could make contact, Joyce pulled a tiny firearm out of her sleeve and took aim, cracking the thing in the cheek with a bullet. 

“I hate these things,” she muttered under her breath while the tip smoked, and you weren’t sure if she meant guns or the Other thing that tried to take a bite out of Steve; possibly both.

The nurse stumbled back behind the pumps and fell out of view.

“GET. IN.” Joyce was stronger than she looked as she stuffed you into the back seat of the Pinto.  In haste, you scraped your knee on a piece of metal behind the passenger seat, but had no idea until you saw the blood running down your leg some time later.  

The smiling man shuffled to his feet like he was being tugged up by strings.

His guts were spilling out of him but yet, he was able to stand.  Stand and smile.  With inky ooze dripping from everywhere like melting wax.  

Joyce was in the process of shutting her door as Steve backed up.  You felt the jarring bump when the wheels went over the nurse.  

You caught Steve’s eye in the rearview mirror.  “Are you okay?” He demanded.  “Did any of them touch you?”

On the seat next to you was the nail bat; some of the nurses’ blonde hair was sticking to it.

“No, uh, no, I don’t think so. What are they? Did you just kill that woman? Take me back to my car.  Tell me what is going on!”

He was lightning fast on the gears once he’d backed up into the street, just in time for you to see the nurse sit upright; black tar leaking from the hole in the back of her head. 

“That’s not a woman,” he grunted, flooring the pedal. “It's not even human.”

“What does that mean?” Shaking, you listened to your own horrified voice as if from a distance.

Joyce swiveled in her seat to give you the best comforting twist of her lips that she could muster.  “I’ll do my best to explain, back at the diner.”

“Why aren’t they dead?” You whined, staring back at the nurse one last time before the gas station disappeared in the smog.

Through the window you saw that there were more of those Things that resembled people lining the sidewalk, standing shoulder to shoulder. They swarmed in from the shadows one by one to watch the vehicle pass with vested interest.  

Their eyes followed you like the pinto was a one-man parade. Or perhaps a meals-on-wheels.

“Where did they all come from?” You asked, almost certain you wouldn’t get an answer.

“Your guess is as good as ours,” Steve sighed.

He was awfully calm considering what you’d just witnessed.

From the rearview mirror dangled a similar stone to the one Steve wore around his neck, suspended by cream string or twine.  

There was a crackling noise and then a new voice sounded like it was coming from a radio.

“Joyce, are you there?” A pause and more crackling. “Need you to talk to me Joyce. Harrington? Anyone?”

There was a CB radio attached to the dash.  Joyce unhooked the mouthpiece from its metal hinge and put it to her mouth, depressing the side button.

“I’m here, Hop,” Joyce was doing her best not to sound rattled, adjusting her collar.  Her glance flicked to the back seat.  “We’re safe.  We got her.”

The following silence hissed static before Hopper cleared his throat.  “Good, that’s good.  And Steve?”

“He’s here,” she assured.  “Not a scratch.”

Jim was all the way on the other side of town about to take his shoes off and have some of the potato vodka his buddy Scott distilled in his basement when he got word that Joyce and Steve were going after you.  He’d begged Joyce to wait for him, but knew she wouldn’t.  He’d sped to the scene as fast as he could.

“I’ll be at Benny’s in two,” he said.  “Be careful. Over and out.”

10

Gravel crunched under the tires as Steve pulled into the diner.  Three of the things with the same posture as the smiling man were slinking out of the woods.  Two from the left, and one from around the corner on the right.  

They had the same lock-jawed grins, but this time, one was a high school boy in a green letterman’s jacket, one was an elderly woman in a robe with a shower cap on her head, and the third was a boy no older than twelve.

Disarming at first, but then you recognized the dead eyes, assessing you like a shark.

“There’s more,” Joyce gestured behind at the handful that were meandering up from the street. They all had a certain gait to them; like those serial killers in movies to go at a snail pace, but somehow always catch up to the victim. 

Steve looked over his shoulder to get a look through the back window, and then his gaze landed on you again.

His scowl was more stern than he meant for it to be.  “If you run, I can’t promise I’ll be able to save you again,” he swallowed, softening.  “Joyce is going to head into the diner first, you follow her, and I’ll take up the rear, got it?”

You thought you gave a response, but maybe not.

“Nod if you understand,” he rumbled.

“I understand,” you said weakly, noticing that your cheeks were wet.

The things had the gait of zombies, but they were far from brain dead, and their skin suits weren’t composed of rotting flesh.  Aliens, maybe? Vampires? How the fuck was this even happening? 

“Ready?” Joyce had her fist around the door handle, ready to jump out and push her seat forward for your exit.

The old woman and the little boy with a mop of raven hair were only a few yards away, and you remembered how the nurse’s face had changed into a horrific maw of terror.

“Don’t look at them,” Joyce urged.  “You just grab onto the back of my shirt and keep your eyes forward.  They’re scary fuckers, but they are also really slow.”

You broke through the wall of fear that had you frozen in place, and tried not to think about how close the old woman was when you bolted from the back seat and tripped.  

Of course you would trip.

Your knee caught all of your weight making you gasp in pain, but a surge of adrenaline pushed you through it, snatching Joyce’s hand as you went.

“Good to see you again, Joyce,” the old woman purred.  “Who is your friend?”

“Fuck you!” Joyce said from the front door of the diner, yanking a janitor cluster of keys from the crossbody bag she wore.  

You kept your gaze glued to the back of her head, but peripheral vision showed that the duo were almost within arms reach.  Ice cold breath prickled down your spine.

Steve was behind you then, warm body crushed against yours, shielding you from the Others while Joyce undid the lock. All of you practically landed in a dogpile on the floor inside the diner.  

Joyce sank down on the ground right where she was on the tile, panting while the strange Others begin to huddle at the entrance, peering in at you with salacious intent.

“She’s pretty,” the little boy said. “We just want to introduce ourselves.”

“You can’t keep her from us forever,” said the guy in the letterman’s jacket. Now that you had a closer look, you could see that the gums around his pearly white teeth were the color of rot.  

Steve rolled his shoulders back, nostrils flaring while he maintained the stand-off with nothing but a single pane of glass between them.  .

You took hold of his arm, unnerved by how close he was and how easily the glass could be shattered.

“Steve, get away from—-”

“They can’t do shit,” he snapped, more to them than to you. He pointed to a stone that was ten times the size of the one around his neck and mounted on the wall.  “They can’t touch us now.”

How those rough cut rocks with some type of symbol carved into the surface kept anything out was another mystery.  Was it like the symbol of the cross for demons and vampires?

Were those things some breed of demon?

Blinded by a sudden white flash, you had to shield your face when a pair of headlights bounced into the lot. 

“It’s Hopper,” Joyce sounded relieved, getting to her feet.  

The three that had been crowding at the door to leer in at you shuffled off to go and check it out.

The next thing you heard was the discharge of a gun.  The jolt of it made you throw your arms around Steve, but then you quickly pushed off, clutching a hand over your heart.

Another gunshot, and then another.

One more for good luck.  

A large man in a tan uniform and a substantial mustache squeezed his thick shoulders through the diner door, holstering his gun.  He took his hat off once he was inside and swept a large hand through the new haircut Joyce had given him.  

Outside, you could see the high school kid face down on the ground, sprawled like a starfish.

“It won’t kill them,” Hopper said, as if he could read your thoughts.  “But it does slow them down a bit.”

He fished a toothpick from his front pocket and bit down on it.  “We try to keep bullet use to a minimum, but that sure felt good.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Joyce tucked herself under his open arm and hugged him.  “I told you Steve and I had it covered.”

“Yeah, well,” he closed his eyes and perched his chin on the top of her head.  “It’s not every day we get someone new in town.”

You must’ve looked like you were about to throw up or pass out because Steve started making comforting circles on your back with the flat of his hand.  

“You guys are only a few miles off the freeway,” the synapses in your brain were still fighting for a chance to make sense of it all.  “How do the authorities not know about this?”

You couldn’t peel your attention away from the sprawled body out on the pavement.  In the distance, groups of Others lumbered toward the building.

“I am the authorities,” the man introduced as Jim Hopper said with a glint of humor in his eye.  

“She’s with me,” Steve blurted. The comment came so far out of left field that everyone turned to stare at him like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears.  

“I mean,” he stammered, nibbling his bottom lip. “She can stay here with me if she wants, on the pullout in the store room.  I’ll be fine in one of the booths.”

There were 7-8 of those things waiting outside the door at that point, including the ones that had been shot by Hopper, but those were all rising like marionettes by then.  A busty woman with long red hair joined the stalkers, as well as a balding middle-aged man, and what appeared to be an elderly Priest.  

Hopper put his hat down on a nearby table and sank into a chair as if it was just another day.  “Coffee if you’ve got it.”

“Um, yeah, sure, I’ll make a fresh pot,” Steve moved around the partition toward the kitchen, grazing your hand with the tips of his fingers to urge you to move with him.

He leaned over to whisper.  “We need to wait 15-20 minutes before they can go back out.  Those things will get bored and wander off somewhere else.  Back to hell or wherever they are from.”

“Sit here,” he tapped the end of the counter and a padded stool so that he could talk to you while he made the brew.  

11

He put several scoops of grounds into a filter at the top of the machine and made sure it was filled with water.  He’d removed his flannel at some point, and you caught yourself watching his back muscles twitch under the thin material of his white tee. The water he used was not from the sink, but in a plastic gallon jug with a duct taped handle.

You were still standing when he turned and wiped his hands down his denim-clad hips.

“That guy at the gas station,” you started.  “The one you…the one in the suit, he…”

Tasting bile, you tried to find your words and Steve did not try to rush you.

“That thing…he knew my name. How could he know that?”

On an exhale, Steve leaned forward to rest his forearms on the counter.  He wanted nothing more than to be able to put you at ease and say you had nothing to worry about, but alas.

“Yeah so it’s one of those mysteries I’ve been trying to figure out since I got here,” he opened his hand and ran his thumb over the calluses on the opposite palm.  “They know things they shouldn’t know and they survive things no living organism should survive.  The only way we know how to kill them is—-”

“Since you got here?” You blurted.  “Did you just show up like I did? How long have you been here?”

“Well, I guess you could say I showed up like you did, but not really,” he rolled his head, stretching the sides of his neck so that something popped.  “One day I was in a place I refer to as Normal Hawkins, and then I was in this very different version of the same town.  We all were.”

“Wait, so,” you frowned, simultaneously comforted by the familiar warm scent of brewing coffee. The machine spit and sputtered. “You mean this isn’t Hawkins?”

“No, it is,” he swiped a tongue over his top teeth. “It’s hard to explain.  Robin and I have been reading up on, you know, alternate universes and such.  Parallel worlds.  We think this might be one of those.”

“Robin?” Your eyebrow shot up.  

“My best friend. I mentioned her before.”

“Oh yes, right. Where is she tonight?”

“Safe at home, I hope,” he went over to get a couple mismatched mugs from a light blue drying rack. “We used to live together but she moved in with her girlfriend and—” he stealed himself, realizing he was about to ramble on about his personal life.   

“We’re out of cream today, but I have a lot of sugar,” he plucked a few packets from his magic apron pocket: one pink, one white, and one brown.  

He loved offering you sugar.

He took the other two steaming mugs over to Joyce and Hopper while you stirred in the white crystals with a tiny spoon.  It crossed your mind that maybe never left your apartment, and were actually asleep on the couch, dreaming all of this.  

Easing down to take a reluctant seat, you perched on the edge of the stool. The deep orange of the upholstery was worn and split down the middle, exposing the white stuffing.

You took a peek over your shoulder to find that half of those Things were gone; only the redhead, the priest, and the high school kid remained.  Where the bullet hole tore through his cheek was almost completely healed, but the weeping black blood remained like tear-soaked mascara.

His evil smile widened when he caught your eye, making you swiftly spin away.  You scooted down to the opposite end of the counter so that you wouldn’t be within view.

Steve observed your seat change and did what he should’ve done when they first got there, which was to walk over and pull the shades down to cover the glass on the door.  He was so used to ignoring them, he’d forgotten what it was like to comprehend their existence for the first time.

“I promise, you’re safe in here with us,” Steve leaned in to whisper. “I don’t know how the stones work, but they do.”

In a few days, it would be exactly two years since he’d been forced to cohabitate with those…ghouls.

A ghoul was the closest he’d come to describing them.  But they weren’t a typical braindead zombie on the ravenous hunt for fresh organs like he’d seen in the old George Romero movies; they were unfortunately intelligent and possessed some type of psychic ability or hive mind.

The only thing that could kill them was decapitation, which also synced up with common zombie lore. If bitten or attacked, the person afflicted did not turn into one of them, which was a small mercy.  Steve’s good friend Tommy had been one of the first to meet such a fate; they’d buried all of his mauled body parts out near Skull Rock.  

Twenty months later, there were several rows of marked graves to accompany him.

“Steve?” He liked the way you said his name.  

“Uh huh,” popping a hip out to rest it on the counter, he took a sip of his coffee from a Star Wars Ewok mug, addressing you over the rim.

“So, you never put a personal ad in the newspaper?” One hand was trembling, so you slotted it between your knees. 

He inhaled to speak, but you continued.  “The voice message I got sounded just like you, and it told me to meet you here.”

Your mug was beige with brown lettering that said: Accountant’s Never Die, They Just Lose Their Balance.

“It wasn’t me,” he said softly.  “Believe me, I would never want to drag anyone into this.”

He continued, frowning.  “I wonder if it was Other Steve that put the ad in the paper?

“Other Steve?”

He shrugged.  “I mean, if this is a case of parallel worlds, there is a chance that there is another version of me back in that other version of Hawkins.  The version that didn’t keep us trapped like rats in a cage.”

Even though it sounded ludacris, you considered it, because even that was quite a bit more comforting than the alternative.

He said your name, making you look up.

“So, you were supposed to go on a date with some other Steve guy?” It had been a while since he felt that particular brand of jealousy. “What a small world.”

“You could say that,” you swallowed, feeling judged. “I should’ve known that the only promising personal ad would lead to more horrors.”

He gave a low chuckle, feeling bad for the other parallel version of him who probably waited at Benny’s for a solid hour, thinking he got ditched.  

If only Other Him knew you were absolutely worth waiting for.  

“Steve?” 

“Mhmhm,” he scratched the stubble on his jaw.

“Are we dead?” It bubbled out of your chest as you stared into your coffee.  “Did I die out there on the highway or something?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, tucking his chin. “I’ve wondered that too, like, a lot, but I don’t think this is the end.  I think we’ll make it out of here one day.  I know we will.”

Something vibrated in the shared silence and you found yourself staring at his parted lips.

“I’m not ready to die.”

Your whisper was interrupted by a sudden, obnoxious noise coming from the back room.

It sounded like the rattling of a doorknob, like someone trying to get in.

12

“Stay here,” Steve instinctively grabbed the closest and biggest knife, held it aloft like Michael Myers, and went to investigate.

He put a hand over the stone under his shirt too, reminding himself that this building was protected.  Those things could try to open the door, but even then they’d be powerless to step over the threshold, much like a vampire without a proper invitation.

The ghouls that had been huddling like cattle at the front door were all gone as far as you could see, and you wondered if maybe they’d wandered around to try another way in.

“What’s going on?” Jim scooted his chair out and stood to see why Steve was holding the knife like that.

Without answering, Steve made his way around a metal supply rack, eyes narrowing on the brass knob of the back door.  

It was wiggling violently, causing Steve’s heart to explode in his throat.

The jostling stopped only long enough for there to be a loud thud and quake of the door frame while whatever was on the other side rammed itself against the wood. 

By then, Hopper had unholstered his gun and was on his way over.  

You and Joyce had the same idea at the same time and both started looking for a weapon.  Joyce found a pair of scissors, but all you could find was a fork.

“Let me in, motherfuckers!”  A voice shouted from the other side of the door.

Another thud, more frantic twisting of the knob.

“Wait,” Steve put his hand up to slow Hopper from going ahead of him.

The possible intruder went still.

“Munson?” Steve asked.  “Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me man. You need a secret code or something? I’ve got one of those freaks on my ass, please open the fuck up!”

Hopper’s shoulders sagged and he lowered his weapon.  Out of habit, Steve checked above the door to make sure the protection stone was still mounted there before he searched to see where you were.  The ghouls were capable of mimicking voices to trick people into dropping defenses for them, but if there was even a tiny chance it really was Eddie, he had to check it out.

He planned to drill a peephole in that door the first chance he got.

Steve twisted open the lock and stepped way back.  “It’s open.”

The guy who blew into the kitchen before slamming the door behind him to lean against it shivering was definitely not one of those things from earlier.

Panting, Eddie clicked the lock.  “Fuck me Harrington, that thing almost got me. There were two of them, fuck, maybe ten.  I stopped counting once I started running.”

“Eddie, what happened?” Joyce pushed by Hopper.  “Where are your shoes?”

It was just then that you realized Eddie’s feet were bare. He wore a pair of tattered jeans and a worn shirt with the faded phrase Hellfire Club on the front.  His long hair was wet and if he’d already taken a shower, the looks of his feet said he needed another one.

“Leave it to me to lock myself out of the trailer again,” his teeth were chattering, and without asking for one, Joyce handed him a multicolored, crocheted blanket from the broom closet to put around his shoulders.  “I was headed over to find Wayne at Claudia’s, but then I got cornered and well, the rest is history.”

“Why didn’t you use the front door?” Steve crossed his arms with the point of the knife sticking up.

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie pulled the blanket tight around himself like a cocoon and shut his eyes tight.  “Why doesn’t anyone do anything?  Sorry if I scared you or whatever.”

Joyce introduced you as Eddie shuffled out to the dining area, and all he said was, “hey,” in greeting before he slumped into one of the booths, adjusting so that his back was to the wall and his legs straight along the bench seat.

“You got any shoes I can borrow?” The visitor with the long, wet hair asked Steve. 

Steve put the knife back in the slot with the others.  “Borrow as in I get them back tomorrow or borrow as in they become yours and I’ll never see them again?”

“Just forget it,” Eddie grunted.  It wasn’t long before Steve threw a pair of flip flops at him and brought him a cup of coffee.

“Looks like it’s safe for us to split,” Jim announced a few minutes later, putting his hat back on. The parking lot was quiet, and even if there were any creepy ghouls nearby, they’d be able to get behind the wheel of their cars without making contact.  

“You need a ride back to your place, Eddie?” Joyce asked while she walked their coffee mugs over to the back sink. “I still have a spare key from that time you let me and Will stay there.”

“Yeah that’s cool,” Eddie said absently.  His attention had shifted and you realized he was staring at you.

“So, wait, you’re new here?” Eddie asked. 

“Just came into town a few hours ago,” Steve answered somberly.

You’d been sitting with your back to Eddie, but then turned on your stool to make eye contact across the room.

“Shit, that sucks,” Eddie blurted.  “I mean, you don’t suck, but just like, I’m not sure what type of bad luck makes people end up here.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you simply nodded a few times in agreement; it did, indeed, feel like bad luck, or something worse.

After a beat, Eddie cleared his throat.  “You, um, don’t happen to have any smokes on you by chance?”

“Yeah, I do, actually,” you could almost hear a soft whine of relief come out of him.  “Well, not on me. There’s an untouched pack in the glovebox of my car but it’s…”

You trailed off realizing that your bag with all of your ID and personal shit were back in the car, too.  You’d left in such a hurry, the keys were probably still in the ignition. Fuck, the last thing you needed was for someone to steal your car and your bag.  Could those zombie things drive? You’d almost forgotten about that secret pack of Camel Lights that you’d stuffed in there for emergencies, but you never expected it to be for an actual emergency.  

“Yeah? Where’s your car?” He sat up, alert.  

“Back at the gas station,” Joyce rolled up one of her oversized cuffs.  “There was a run in with a few of those Things earlier and we had to leave in a hurry.”

“I should probably go back there and get my things,” you mused. 

“Not a good idea, not tonight,” Steve interrupted, swinging his arm out as if to block you from the rest of the group.  “In the morning I’ll take you.  Those things usually don’t bother with inanimate objects, unless they are attached to a living-breathing human.”

Eddie mumbled. “Better not catch one of them enjoying a fresh cigarette, or I’m gonna be pissed.”

You stood up, addressing Eddie. “If you want to go by there and take the pack, you are welcome to them. I quit a while ago, so—”

“Yeah, so did I,” Eddie blew a raspberry of a laugh. “But not willingly. They don’t exactly grow on trees here.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest again, rolling his shoulders back.  “I don’t think anyone should be making any unnecessary stops tonight.”

“I agree,” Hopper voiced.

“I’d say it’s necessary,” Eddie countered, knowing that Steve was right.  The safety of morning light would come soon enough.  

Steve shut off the overhead lights and released the blinds that covered the door to peer out.  Eddie shuffled over in Steve’s flip flops and the blanket around him like a little kid leaving for a sleepover.

The three made the decision to take Hopper’s Bronco, and Joyce told Steve to take care.  She kissed his cheek while Eddie gave him a fist bump that Steve seemed unsure how to respond to at first.

“See ya later, alligator,” Steve told them before turning the lock to seal the building again.

You stood side by side and watched until they were safely on the road.  In their wake, something bolted out of the woods and threw its head back to wail like a beast.  It had a bald head and pointed ears and crouched to all fours like an animal.

“Why is that one different than the others?” You asked, clutching onto Steve’s arm.  

“We think those are the older ones,” he cleared his throat.  “But there are only a few of them that I know of.”

“Why do you think they’re older?”  Your gaze was locked on the Thing as it lumbered back out of sight.  

Steve shifted on his feet before pulling the blinds back down.  “It’s just a hunch really, but they seem to be faster and smarter than the others.  Those are the ones that can mimic voices.”

You shrugged away and put your face in your hands.  “This can’t be real.  This has to be a fucking nightmare.”

“It is a nightmare alright,” Steve agreed with you.  “But the thing is, we’re not asleep.”

“How do you know that though? This is probably one of those deep REM dreams that we won’t even remember once we wake up.”

“If this is a dream,” he had his hands on his hips and the sides of his mouth wiggled with a repressed grin.  “How can I find you when we wake up? Do you have a phone number I can call or?”

You shifted your gaze to the floor so that you wouldn’t get lost in his eyes.  “When you wake up, put another personal ad in the paper for me to find.”

“Deal,” he offered a genuine smile that time.  The guy had perfect teeth; it almost made you self-conscious.

13

You had the impression that Steve lived somewhere on the premises, but that was not the case.  The “spare room” he’d mentioned was a cot in the pantry. Apparently he lived in the family home he’d grown up in, but crashed at the diner more often than not. He changed the sheets and threw a Sesame Street comforter on that had probably once been on a twin bed for a child while you were in the bathroom. He handed you a spare toothbrush and before you went in, you asked if the toilet worked.

“Why wouldn’t it?” Steve was honestly confused.

“Well,” you gestured around vaguely.  “If this is some type of post-apocalyptic wasteland where nothing new comes or goes, where is the electricity and water coming from?”

There was a main generator that powered the town, but he didn’t have a chance to get the words out.

Your throat constricted.  “We are dead, we have to be.”

“Because the toilets flush?” He chuckled.

You bristled with annoyance and turned away.  Not annoyance with Steve in particular but with your shit show of a life that refused to let you know peace.  

“Hey listen, I know—-” Steve reached out for you only to freeze his hand in mid-air.

There was music coming from the dining area.

The sound was shrill static at first but then the chorus bloomed, and it took you a second to recognize that the song was When the Night Comes by Joe Cocker.

“I just wanna be the one you run to

I just wanna be the one you come to

I just wanna be there for someone

When the night comes”

“Steve…what is happening?” With each word you were moving toward the sound, disregarding the protests of your gut.

“Let's put all the cares behind us

And go where they'll never find us”

With the only other light being the moon shining through the slats in the blinds, the neon red and yellow caught your attention.

At a table near the window was a replica of an old jukebox, no taller than a bowling ball.  There was a coin slot at the top and white buttons at the bottom to choose from the flipcards with song titles on them.  As you approached, you checked out the window above it to see the shadows made by rows of trees and wondered what could possibly be lurking there, observing you.

“It does that sometimes,” Steve was a few steps behind, combing fingers through his hair.

“Two spirits in the night

That can leave before the morning light

When there's nothing left to lose

And nothing left to fear”

You stood at the end of the booth and stared at the machine.  “Is it the same song every time?”

“Different ones,” his chest was inches from your back, his warm breath on your neck. “But this one is a favorite.”

“I know there'll be a time for you and I

Just take my hand and run away”

“Do you want to wear this?” He’d picked up the flannel and put it over your shoulders.  “I saw you shivering.”

“Think of all the pieces of the shattered dream

We're gonna make it out some day”

Without taking your eyes off of the jukebox, you let him wrap the wool shirt with a quilted lining over you and then, without hesitation, your hand slipped into his and he held it there, interlacing his fingers to step to your side.

A strange weight lifted off of you at the idea of not being able to go home.  

“Do you really think we’ll get out of here one day?” You asked in a whisper.

“I just wanna be there beside you

When the night comes”

Steve admired your profile.  “I hope so,” his voice was a murmur.  “But it doesn’t seem so bad here all of a sudden.”

The jukebox did not run on batteries and it was not plugged into a socket on the wall.

You tipped your chin up slowly to meet his gaze and, just then, out in the street, something inhuman scampered through the parking lot and into the woods.  

His thumb gently rubbed along yours and you could smell a touch of cologne on the flannel.

“Steve, I think we should have some pie.”

He was staring at your mouth while he nodded in agreement.

The music cut off before the song was finished, and the jukebox went dark.

-----

My friends, thank you so much for reading. Hope you enjoyed.

-----

[sinclairstarz]

Action-comedy buddy detective AU byler, anyone?

loosely based on the movie ‘The Nice Guys’ because I’m obsessed with, in love with, etc, that movie. The plot is ultimately different but just know it’s based on that. More info under the cut :3

So it’s the late 70s in Hawkins, which is a big city in this AU.

Will:

Will Byers is a 25 year old private investigator. If you want help with a custody battle, or to see if your partner is cheating, he might be the person to go to. Business is a little slow because people often don’t trust how young he is. He’s a heavy smoker who’s mother died a year prior, perpetually tired and burnt out but always trying to look on the bright side. He lives with his little sister, El, who’s 19 and deceivingly clever and helps him with his cases a lot. His older brother Jonathon has fallen in with some shady people since he got into drugs at a young age, and he’s hooking up with an unknown actress, Nancy Wheeler. One day, a porno actor Nancy knew, Steve Harrington, is killed in an onstage accident. His friend Robin, who’s also close with Jonathon and Nancy, suspects foul play and seeks out Will to ask him to investigate. After discovering some evidence, Will is lead to believe a drug-dealer named Max Mayfield who has recently gone missing is the killer, and begins to seek her out. El, who knew Max in middle school is ambitious to help Will, but to her annoyance he won’t let her follow him to the parties and bars and dangerous streets, worried for her safety.

Mike:

Mike Wheeler is a private investigator who’s legitimacy is… questionable and who’s well-being and mental health is worse than questionable. He lives alone in a crummy apartment, he grew up wealthy but stopped speaking to his parents after he dropped out of business school. He mostly deals with shadier crimier clients, people who go to him because they can’t go to the police. He’s work multiple cases for Billy Hargrove - an asshole with a dense criminal history, mostly involved in the drugs+sex+party scene - and his guys. Billy’s little sister, Max Mayfield deals for him and is known for getting into trouble. When Max goes missing, Billy comes to Mike to find her.

In their investigations, Mike and Will keep running into each other at the same parties and drive-ins and gunfights and after having to help each other out multiple times, they figure out they’re both looking for the same girl and decide to just join forces. Tension and romance ensues. El is extremely annoyed of Mike being at their house.

Extras:

- Dustin’s a bartender Mike goes to for information because he’s always at the same hangout places as the criminals Mike’s investigating.

- Lucas is Max’s boyfriend. He’s not super pleased with Mike and Will sniffing around trying to find her,

[steviewashere]

Your Body is Warm Next to Mine

Rating: General CW: None Apply! Tags: Post-Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Steve Harrington Likes Back Scratches, Eddie Munson Likes Giving Back Scratches, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Tired Steve Harrington, Sappy, Eddie Munson Calls Steve Harrington Pet Names

Based on This Tweet

(Two Times Eddie Scratches Steve's Back)

😴—————😴 1.

“Getting tired, baby?”

Steve hums. He wants to feign wakefulness. Pay attention to the rest of the movie that Eddie put on. Keep talking and cuddle in close and eat junk food. But he’s wiped. A long shift at Family Video earlier in the day with the addition of a few errands he had to run afterwards, tired doesn’t even cover what he’s feeling. Something more akin to mush. Just a heavy fog. Partially floating. Partially sinking into his spot on the couch. “Could say that,” he mutters.

The movie’s dialogue comes to an abrupt stop, most likely from Eddie pausing it. Then, the player whirs as it rewinds the tape. The TV crackling when it gets turned off. Hands wrap around Steve’s, warm and welcoming. They squeeze and tug lightly. “Alright, Stevie, let’s head up to bed,” Eddie murmurs.

He follows in a sludge. Through their apartment’s hallway, past the bathroom, and straight into the center of their bedroom. Steve shucks his pants off, replaces the polo he’d been wearing with a plain grey t-shirt, and unceremoniously collapses into bed. Behind him, Eddie chuckles, still carefully getting dressed into his pajamas. His hand gently taps at Steve’s left calf, ushering him to move up the bed and over to his spot. The left side meeting his skin like an early morning breeze.

Once Eddie lays on his side, Steve grabs for his right hand. Places it on his back. And then shimmies down into the mattress. One arm under his pillow, the other laying between them. He opens his eyes, raises his eyebrows slightly, and tries for his best pleading glance to where Eddie’s hand lays on his back.

He sighs into his position when Eddie lightly rolls his eyes, but immediately works his hand under Steve’s t-shirt. His eyes flutter close again, but he doesn’t fall asleep quite yet. Instead, he quietly requests, “Tell me about your day?”

With the tips of his fingers, Eddie begins by tracing the edges of Steve’s scars. Over the thick tissue, around the planes of sensitive and plush patches. He takes an easy breath and begins to whisper, “Well, I woke up while you were in the shower this morning. And I didn’t want to interrupt your little concert that you were having—“

“I don’t sing in the shower,” Steve feebly argues.

Eddie chuckles under his breath. “Hmm, must live next door to George Michael then,” he muses. His thumb presses into the top of Steve’s spine, running down in a single line. “But I didn’t want to interrupt, so I went out for a little walk around the complex. There weren’t any strong winds. Nobody was outside that early except for a couple smokers. The light breeze was on my face. Felt amazing,” he murmurs. His hand flattens against Steve’s back, swiping up and down and over his shoulder blades. Pressing more firmly where resistance meets his touch.

Continues, “But then, my little walk was interrupted. By the couple that lives in apartment 6A, y’know, on the second floor? Screaming and hollering at each other. They were arguing about—“

“Her dirtbag husband cheating, which was obvious from the start,” they say in unison. Steve snorts and nuzzles his head further into his pillow. His eyes droop more with exhaustion, but his breathing doesn’t completely slow. Still looking on at Eddie for more.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Told you about it when you got out. You then called Robin and told her all about it. I went to the kitchen while you guys talked. Smiled to myself as I poured coffee into our special mugs.” Steve’s mug is a yellow one that says ‘Keep a Smile on Your Face’ in red text. Eddie’s is a Seattle Pike Place Market mug—white with an array of colorful fruit on it. “Put creamer in mine, the vanilla one that you complain is way too sweet. Splash of whole milk in yours. Set it out on the dining table and made you toast; heavy coat of butter, thin layer of strawberry jam—not jelly.”

During Eddie’s recount, Steve has shuffled closer. Squishing his left arm between their bodies. Nearly nose to nose with each other. Eddie drags his blunt fingernails in counter-clockwise circles on Steve’s lower back, almost tickling him with how light the pressure is. He hums in delight.

“Grabbed oranges for us. Sat at the table and waited. Did the daily crossword in the newspaper before you had the chance, which made you slightly annoyed, but not furious.” Eddie leans into Steve’s space more, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. Grins to himself when Steve closes his eyes and smiles back. “Gave you the sports page. Which you read while peeling our oranges. And then you passed me yours, I removed the pulp from it. We ate in silence. I sat and thought about how much I love you,” he whispers almost like a confession.

Steve doesn’t say anything, instead basking in the soft touch he’s been given. Soaking it all in, letting himself be drenched with it. His chest warms pleasantly and his stomach flips at Eddie’s words.

Eddie taps his index finger over several areas of Steve’s back. Counting with the lowest and gentlest voice he can muster. Takes the edge of his fingernail and traces lines between the spots. “What’re you doing, Eds?” Steve sleepily asks.

“Making constellations,” he mutters. Eyes watching where his hand moves. “See, here’s a star—“ His finger pats. “—And here’s another,” he states, drawing another line. “There. That’s one constellation. Here comes one more.” Steve lets him do this. It’s the first time this has happened, but he certainly doesn’t want it to be the last. There’s four more constellations that he makes before running his palm heavily against the whole of Steve’s back. “Anyway,” he sighs. “Then, you went to work. And so I cleaned a bit. Did the dishes, wiped the table, organized our movies. Watched a couple reruns of Family Ties. Took a nap and dreamed about you.”

“Dream?” Steve mumbles.

Eddie kisses his clothed shoulder. “Kissed you in it,” he answers. “But I woke up. Made us some dinner. Spaghetti, your favorite. Even grated the parmesan by hand. I know—I’m a very fancy guy, it comes with the name.” Steve makes a half-hearted snort, too muffled by his exhaustion to be a real sound. “You came home. Made my dream come true, kissed you by the door. We ate. Started watching Animal House, with my insistence, even though you tried to protest.”

“You don’t like it,” Steve sighs.

“I do,” Eddie insists softly. “I just like to tease you a little. But I didn’t tonight because I could tell you had a very long day. Dead on your feet, sweetheart. Then, before I knew it, you were half-asleep against my shoulder.” He kisses Steve’s forehead this time. On his cheek. The lobe of his ear. Another to his shoulder. However, he doesn’t go in for one on the mouth. Steve’s breaths have completely slowed, his lips puffing slightly with each exhale, and his eyes remain closed and relaxed. There’s already a line of drool creeping to run down his cheek.

Eddie drags his hand one more time down Steve’s spine. “Night, baby,” he whispers. But it’s washed out by Steve’s soft snores. He tucks the comforter around them, tighter than it was before. Lays himself half over Steve’s back. And kisses the back of his head. Ready for the next time he’ll do this all over again.

——— 2.

Eddie draws him in a little closer. Pressing them against each other’s sides. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist. Sets his head on his shoulder. And Eddie digs his chin into the top of his head.

They’re an hour into The Labyrinth when Steve gives a sleepy nudge to Eddie’s hand. Reaching behind himself to place Eddie’s palm on his back.

“Over the shirt or under?” Steve is asked.

“Over,” he answers through a sigh. Leans his full body weight into Eddie and watches the next several minutes of their movie knowing Eddie has him. Enjoys the way the dull scratches move his t-shirt, the soft rustle of his clothing being shifted. How his nails dig into him a little bit more on his softer parts, but how they traverse the scarred blades with caution. The circular motions of his fingers a gentle lull.

He hums at the sensation. Falling into it all a little more.

Eddie always enjoys giving Steve back scratches if only to see him fall asleep. Even if it’s on the couch, while they’re watching one of his favorite movies. He switches between etched lines and tracing the shape of Steve’s shoulders blades. Goes from circular scratches to whole palm sweeps. Just to make sure that Steve continues his late night nap. He can always tell when it’s been a long day by two things: when Steve takes a nap, and how he asks for his back to be scratched.

Sometimes, Steve will just ask the question. Usually when he’s more lucid or if he’s still slow to waking up. But, typically, it’s forcing Eddie’s hand on his back. Leaning into the touch. Nuzzling in close and all too warm.

It’s forty minutes later when Steve does wake back up. Rousing gently, slowly. Instead of startling awake like he does with a nightmare. His shoulders shift, shimmying nearly. Arms tighten around Eddie’s waist. Rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, lips smearing on his shirt, the drool wetting Eddie’s skin a bit. “Mm, sorry,” he mumbles, “fell asleep during the movie.”

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs right back. “Back scratch must’ve been good.”

“Should get a job as a professional back scratcher,” Steve says. But his words slur slightly, as if he’s already trying to go back to sleep. It probably doesn’t help that Eddie is still moving his nails over Steve’s shoulders, up to the base of his neck, down his spine.

Eddie snorts. “Getting sleepy, baby?”

“Yeah,” Steve admits with a sigh.

“Alright, Stevie, let’s get you to bed.”

And he starts their nightly routine all over again. Shutting off the movie. Hauling Steve up. Indulging when he wants a back scratch. Telling him about his day.

“It was a great day,” he begins, “because I was able to love you.”

😴—————😴

[chaptersleftunwritten]

(6. New Years Eve and 11. New Apartment) For my ficlet event with Steve Harrington with hints of Eddie Munson! And yes… I did request this one myself , also! Feel free to send any prompts in with your desired character! Xoxo

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, smoking, drugs… let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Apartment block 2, House No. 11

Your new home across the landing from a handsome stranger whose name you hadn’t acquired yet. He was sweet enough to help the moving men you had hired up the multi-storey stair case with your sofa and furniture— unfortunately you weren’t there to witness it. But you had been told.

You would always glimpse parts of his life as you walked by his front door. There would be laughter and noise coming from inside, groans of agitation when the sports games were on and live electric guitar being played throughout the supposing quiet hours of the day. Sometimes you could have sworn that you could smell hints of marijuana seeping in through your open window from the fire escape.

He didn’t seem like a smoker— but who were you to label him? You didn’t know him. Not yet.

It was New Year’s Eve and you watched from the comfort of your sofa as the night fallen city roared to life. People in glittering dresses and party hats. Empty beverage bottles and metal cans littered the streets and you watched drunken revellers sway and sing as they dragged themselves along the concrete below your window. The clock had barely just struck 8 p.m. and you would be lying if you said you weren’t shocked to see people celebrating this early.

However, maybe you were just feeling a little sour because you had nowhere to go. No party to attend. No friends to catch up with.

The joys of starting a new life in a new city.

You feed yourself the last bite of ice cream and as you set the empty ceramic bowl and spoon into the sink with a clank and bang that’s when you first hear the speakers playing through the wall. A thumping bass that seems to rattle every bone in your body.

In the stairwell you can hear people spilling into the apartment next door, not caring to keep their voices down as they pile inside. The masses grow and by 8:30 p.m. the place is packed full of sweaty, drunken fools bringing in the close to the year.

Dread settles within you and you find momentary solace on the fire escape, breathing in the fresh cool air— until someone else seems to feel the need to join you there.

“You must be the new neighbour! Welcome to the jungle.” His cigarette cherry illuminates his face and casts complimentary shadows across his chiselled bone structure. You try to pinpoint if you have seen him before, but your mind comes up blank. You don’t recognise his long, unruly dark hair and the black tattoos inked across his pale skin.

He seemed friendly enough, trying to spark a mediocre conversation with you. But you weren’t in a very talkative mood. You just wanted some peace and quiet. You wanted to be able to hear yourself think.

“Aren’t you gonna come and join the party? It’s New Year��s!” He exclaims as he flicks his cigarette bud across the railing and your eyes watch it as it plummets to the ground below. Still lit at the end.

Horror startles you into a frenzy as the man starts to climb over toward your perched body and you splay your hands out flat in front of you, “No, no! Don’t come over here— you might fall!” To your dismay and bewilderment, he makes it across to you safely and only now are you able to truly look at him in all of his Metal glory.

“M’ Eddie, by the way. Harrington’s friend.” His thumb shoots back to where he had clambered over from and at the confusion that crosses your face he laughs before crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his ringed fingers beneath his armpits, “Steve. Steve Harrington. Your neighbour?”

A newfound sense of clarity washes over you and you nod meekly, slightly embarrassed, “We haven’t been introduced yet, I suppose. It’s nice to put a name to a face.” You shrug your shoulders and Eddie leans lesuirely against the rusted railing behind him.

“Why don’t you come over then? Be all neighbourly and crash his party. I’m sure he would love to see you there.” Alongside the lilt in Eddie’s voice and the wide grin on his face it hinted to you that he knew something that you didn’t and it made you nervous but all the more curious to know what he meant.

You found yourself wondering what Steve’s apartment looked like. How it was decorated; what colours did he like? What colours did he hate? Did he live alone or was he in a relationship? Any pets? What did he do for work?

You were intrigued. So intrigued that you allowed this stranger to convince you to attend the party next door.

And when you walked in side by side with Eddie, you felt as though you had this gravitational pull that forced eyes to wander to you. They would settle on you for a second or two before they would drift back to whatever they were focused on before your arrival. It gave you a brief power trip. You felt desired. Welcomed.

“Hey, Harrington!!” Eddie used his fingers to whistle over the deafening music and the sight of Steve turning his heated gaze to settle on you made you want to melt into a puddle. His eyes were so warm and glossy— like honey. If you weren’t careful, you could get lost in them, “I set up this official meet, thank me later,” with a dramatic cough of his throat Eddie continues, “Steve this is neighbour, Neighbour this is Steve. Enjoy.” With a not so subtle wink Eddie disperses to somewhere located within the premises and you are left standing with Steve. Finding yourself rather jealous of the volume in his hair.

“It’s nice to meet you— finally.” He smiles down at you and you fight back a blush. You were meeting him under totally normal circumstances however you were still quite flustered by the fact that you hadn’t introduced yourself before now. It had been a few weeks and you hadn’t spoken to one another; not even once. You felt you could’ve insulted him— you thought of yourself as rude.

However, with Steve’s soft demeanour, you were led to believe otherwise. Maybe he was just as embarrassed as you.

“It’s nice to meet you too! It’s strange how formal Eddie made it but I’m glad he invited me nonetheless.”

“I was going to invite you,” a sheet of panic washes over Steve, “I just wasn’t sure if you were the type to enjoy parties…”

Excuses, excuses.

The actual reason he hadn’t invited you was because he thought you were cute— gorgeous, even, and he was a bit too bashful to just come straight out and talk to you. He knew that a party invitation could have been a good ice breaker, but he was also aware that it could have made him out to be a total jackass. And that was the last thing he wanted.

“I get it, don’t worry! I’m here now.” You’re smiling up at him, much more relaxed than you were before, and Steve settles into your presence like a you were a friend he had known for years. He liked you. You were polite and respectful.

“So, any New Year’s resolutions? Mines is that I should definitely stop drinking so much beer.” It made you giggle as you watched him finish off his can of Bud and you tap your index finger against your lips, lost in a beat of thought.

“Mines would be that I should talk to my neighbours more often— I met one of them recently and they seem to be really nice. Hopefully he stays that way.” You were proud of how your confidence had sky rocketed within the last 10 minutes and Steve wiggles his eyebrows at you knowingly.

“I’m sure he’ll remain that way. Especially since his neighbour is a total heartthrob and a sweetheart.” He blamed the alcohol for his flirtatious forwardness but he couldn’t help it. Not with you looking up at him like that.

You shake your head as you laugh, scanning around his living room for any signs of an untouched drink, “If he play his cards right he might end up with a New Year’s kiss at the end of the night— but first, I need a drink. Have you got any?”

He nods a little too eagerly and your heart swells and swoons in your chest. You were kicking yourself at the fact you had left this interaction untouched for so long. What were you so afraid of? Steve was like a puppy dog.

“Wait here, I’ll go and grab you one from the fridge.” You watch as he swivels and swerves through the sea of dancing bodies and you keep your feet planted exactly where they were on the hardwood floor. Excited for Steve’s return.

Beer pong, shots and drunken charades had all been filtered in throughout the night. 12 a.m. was fast approaching and the adrenaline flooding your veins at the thought of stealing a kiss from Steve left you buzzing with happiness and nerves.

You eyed him from across the room, admiring his black suit jacket and his perfectly styled hair. You watched as he interacted with his friends and party guests— so kind and nurturing. It only cemented your agenda.

As soon as that countdown began, you were running to him. And luckily for you— you didn’t have long to wait.

“1 minute everybody!!” Someone screams from your side, their voice bellowing in your ear and grabbing your attention. Your heart flutters in your chest and as you look back over at Steve you are pleasantly surprised to see that he is also looking at you. You chew on your bottom lip in anticipation, all girlish and excited for what the near future holds.

“10…” You freeze as the chant begins.

“9…” You prepare yourself, setting your cup down on a random flat surface.

“8…” You feel like your heart is beating outside of your chest.

“7…” Steve’s hands twitch with longing and you watch his face contour with nerves.

“6…” You are making your way over to him, your feet are quick against the hard and slightly sticky floor.

“5…” It’s a fight against bodies and time, and Steve is quick to try and meet you through the crowd.

“4…”You begin to fret that you won’t make it to him in time, sandwiched between a couple who are already making out.

“3…” Steve rounds the couple and takes your wrists into his smooth but massive hands.

“2…” It’s all eye contact now. Unwritten permission being asked.

“1…” You nod feverishly. And in a blink of an eye Steve’s lips are on yours as chaos ignites around your stilled bodies. His fingertips trace and tangle through your hair as he cups your face closer to his. Your shaky hands steady themselves on his broad and plump chest and you struggle to breathe as you devour one another.

“Happy New Year!!” The crowd scream but you and Steve remain unmoved and entangled in one another.

It really was a Happy start to the New Year indeed.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

Crush

Stranger Things Masterlist

Summary: You thought it was a good idea to go to that Halloween party. After all, everyone was going. But when you start getting harassed and made fun of, you realize you don’t belong there. Until someone unexpected decides to step up for you, even if it means getting injured in the process. Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader Warning: Fluff, bullying, slight violence Word Count: 2536 Square filled: Accept Injury to Protect Someone for @hurtcomfort-bingo A/n: Okay so I was supposed to finish this and post it on Halloween, but like @deans-spinster-witch said, Halloween is not just a holiday, so here you go!! Don't forget to leave a feedback!! (Sorry for any mistake!)

At first it seemed like a good idea. 

It wasn't your kind of night, obviously, and usually you would have declined and ignored the invitation, stayed home and watched a good horror movie with your cat. But this year, you promised yourself. Everybody kept saying it, without effort, you would never get anything. You had to do something to get what you wanted.

So this year, it’ll be different.

And then, you received an invitation. It was strange, how it got to you. Almost everyone had received them at school, but you usually never received one. It was either Steve or his friends that had them and decided who to invite, leaving behind the nerds and people they didn’t particularly like. It was the party that could not be missed, so every invitation mattered like a winning lottery ticket. 

So how surprised were you when you found one in your favorite book at the school library. Now, you thought about it. Maybe someone forgot it in the book, or used it as a marker. But first of all, those invitations were worth a lot, so no one would ever risk leaving it behind or use it as a marker. And second, you picked up this book every day during lunch to read, and placed it in a particular spot on the shelf you only knew about. If someone else found it, it had to be a miracle or some sort. 

And there was also kind of your name on the invitation, so…

It had to be for you, right?

Since it was in none other than Steve Harrington's big, dreamy house, the annual Halloween party was always highly anticipated. And since it was your first time being invited, how could you say no, especially now that you wanted your year to be different?

Your costume was very simple, and although it was out of your comfort zone, you wanted to wear it. The skirt reached almost to your knees, so not too short. The collar wasn't low-cut, although the sleeves fell down your arms, baring your shoulders more than you would have liked, but it wasn't anything too significant. The maid outfit was cute, with the little apron and the bows here and there, you felt pretty. Beautiful.

Taking a deep breath, you made sure your hair still had those beautiful curls you took an hour to style before entering the house. The music was echoing outside, you started to hear it a street away and now that you were near the door, the booms of the song seemed to be ringing within your body and not from the house.

So, okay, you never went to that kind of party, but you knew the ethics to have. Don't knock, never arrive on time, even less early, and above all, have fun.

“You can do it, Y/n,” you cheered yourself up. A barely trembling hand rested on the cold doorknob. Then, you twist it to open the door. The music wafted from inside, along with the heat and a strong smell of alcohol, popcorn, and sweat hitting you in the face.

Not letting that slow you down, you took a step forward and entered the house.

-

The music wasn't that bad. There were drinks other than alcohol offered. Popcorn wasn't the only snack on the table. Most of the smokers were outside. Yeah, you were cheering yourself up about the party and finding excuses to stay.

Oh, and Steve was there. Obviously, since it was his house. But even if the party wasn’t at his place, he probably would have been there anyway. Steve wasn't someone who missed these kinds of parties. 

But, just thinking that maybe, surely, you would meet him caused your heart to beat frantically. Suddenly, you felt hot, and it wasn't the juice you'd been sipping for the past few hours that was going to help. The need for air won out, so you headed towards the back to get out of the house.

It wasn't that there was anything between you and Steve. It was probably all in your head, anyway. But since the signs were raining down around you, how could you not imagine that there was something?

There was how you kept falling on him, or rushing into him, how he had the reflex to reach out to catch you, and as he did so, his perfect scent enveloped you. How he always sat in front of you in class and almost every time, turned to ask you something. One day, it was a pencil. Then, what day it was. Or to make a pretty bad joke that you laughed at anyway. How he would wink at you then, run a hand through his perfect hair to straighten it, and turn around to listen to the class. When he had to pass the papers back, he always took the trouble to get up and distribute them to everyone. And for you, he always said “Here you go, my sweet Y/n.”

It was probably stupid and selfish, but you had a big crush on him since forever and liked to imagine he did all of that because he liked you too.

Your head in the clouds full of Steve, you weren't looking where you were heading. Now outside, you were looking up at the starry sky while walking, completely lost in your thoughts when you hit something solid.

Of course, it woke you up completely like you just received a cold shower. Unfortunately, too late to realize that you were still holding your drink, the cup full of juice becoming the first impact with the obstacle, which poured all the liquid out and splashed it on...

“Oh come on, fuck! Can’t watch where you’re going, freak?!”

Tommy Hagan himself. Steve's best friend and the guy you avoided as much as possible in school, even going so far as to change hallways when you saw him in the distance with Carol. And as if by magic, disguised as a cat - “disguised” being a very big word, her body was barely covered in fabric, if you didn't count the ears on her head-, she appeared behind him.

“I’m so so so sorry,” you hastened to say, hoping deep down that maybe, somewhere in them, there was an ounce of kindness. Turning your head from left to right, you looked around for a cloth, anything to clean the dark stain spreading across Tommy's white shirt. But of course there was nothing.

“Can’t look where you’re going?” Carol jumped in, her voice loud for everyone to hear. Feeling dozens of pairs of eyes on you, your whole body felt like getting on fire. You hated this kind of attention.

“Hey, I said sorry, okay?” Not knowing what to do to make things right and feeling the nervousness building to a critical level within you, you started backing away.

“You should be sorry for being there. Why are you even here? Who the fuck invited the teacher’s pet?” Carol added, a hand placed on her hip. Behind her, you could hear some people agreeing with her words.

Your heart sank.

Obviously, because you were the best in your class, people saw you as the teacher's pet. However, Steve too, was one of the best in several classes. And no one made that kind of comment to him.

“No one wants you here, loser!” Someone shouted somewhere. Each word felt like a stab in the back. Arching more and more forward, you wanted to hide. Hide in yourself. Disappear. 

“You ruin everything you touch, clearly.” Now right in front of you, Carol was looking down on you. By wanting to disappear, you made yourself very small, so much she seemed giant in front of you. “And what are you supposed to be, a maid? Go clean this, then.”

Everything happened quickly.

The cup Carol was holding, this one containing not juice but something worse, beer, flew in your direction. All its contents left the plastic and ended up on you. On your costume. The smell rose to your nose with nausea and tears burning your eyes. But that wasn't the worst. No, the worst part was the laughter that accompanied her gesture. Tommy walked right into your personal space, so close that you could smell the perfume he put on in a far too much quantity.

“You’re insufferable.”

A blink of the eyes. Tears ran down your cheeks. A second blink, and you were about to turn around and run away when heat pressed against your back, trapping you between Tommy and the exit.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You recognized the voice immediately. Shame overwhelmed you once again, and you opened your mouth to apologize, to say that you were planning to leave immediately, but when you turned your head to look behind you, it was to see that Steve's attention was completely on Tommy.

“What do you mean?” Tommy stepped back, both arms outstretched. “I’m just telling the truth. No one wants her here. I don’t even think half the people here know who she is.”

More stabs in the back. He was right. Of course. You didn’t have your place here. Suddenly, you missed your cat at home. 

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

Not expecting the voice to get so soft and to be directed to you, you didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you kept your head down and looked at the ground. When the heat left your back and the black shoes entered your sight, you finally lifted your head, more tears falling down your cheeks as you met Steve’s eyes.

God. He was so close. So handsome. And he just asked you if you were okay. You were frozen for a moment, not able to move a single muscle. Completely in the trance of his gaze. The thumps of your heart were so loud, ringing in your ears and pushing against your rib cage.

“Alright, everyone! Mr. Loverman here has a little crush for the nerd!” Tommy shouted for everyone to hear, but most of the people were back to minding their own business. Steve had that power, after all. It was his house, his party. His rules.

“I’m gonna ask you to leave,” he said, barely acknowledging what Tommy just said.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know you wanted her that bad, huh?” Tommy added, getting dangerously too close to Steve.

“Guys, please, it’s fine, I’ll just leave,” you muttered, not liking where this was going.

“No. Y/n, you are welcome here. Tommy, Carol, not so much.” Sticking out a finger, Steve pressed it against his friend’s torso. Well, you guessed there weren’t really friends anymore? The way they looked at each other, clearly, something was off. “Leave.”

“And what if we don’t?” Tommy stepped forward, not impressed at all by Steve.

“Alright then,” Steve shrugged and turned around to leave. You met his gaze for half a second, but it was half a second too long. The moment Steve saw you were still crying, something changed. His whole facial expression switched like he was finally removing his mask. And then, he was spinning around, his fist clenched tight, and punched Tommy right in the chin.

You really weren’t expecting a fight tonight. Especially not a fight because of you. You already hated being in the middle of the attention, even more being the cause of a fight at a party. Already, people were circling as Steve and Tommy were fighting while all you could do was stand back and watch, both hands on your mouth as more tears ran down your cheeks.

Some tried to pull them apart while most of the spectators were cheering. While the fight didn’t last very long, it felt like forever until finally, two people were able to drag Tommy away from a very bruised Steve laying on the ground. Once Tommy was properly kicked out of Steve’s property, followed by Carol, the crowd dissipated and you immediately rushed to Steve.

Sitting up, he had a bloody nose and one of his eyes was already starting to swollen. You kneeled next to him as he was wiping his nose and spitting blood on the other side.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You checked his face, his injuries, and cursed yourself for not having anything to press against his face, like ice, or just a cold cloth. “I’m so sorry,” you immediately apologized. Somewhere behind you, a hand gave you what you wanted, a wet cloth that you took and softly pressed against his split lip and nose. Steve winced.

“Don’t be sorry,” he muttered and sighed. “Tommy went too far.” 

“B-But,” you stammered, panic still strong in your body. Your whole body was shaking, you didn’t know if it was because of how cold you were since you were soaked in beer, or because of all the anxiety.

Like he was feeling your worry, Steve's hand landed softly on your wrist. Immediately, your shaking stopped as the warmth spread all around you. 

“I was happy to see you decided to come,” he finally admitted. Your eyes were big as you didn’t think something like that would come out of Steve’s mouth. 

“But it got you injured…” You couldn’t help a sob to break your voice and felt even guiltier when you noticed Steve's reaction. His eyes filled with a sadness you never wanted to see in his beautiful eyes.

“If it meant protecting you, then I would do it again.”

That had to be a dream. Why was an injured, beaten up Steve, so sweet to you? It was almost like he…

No. He couldn’t… Have a crush on you, right?

Your heart was still beating frantically, but this time, it wasn’t a bad thing. The organ in your chest was hoping, expecting, praying for this moment to be true.

“The invitation to this party,” you started, unsure if saying what you wanted to say would ruin the moment. Yes, you were still outside. Yes, there were people around, even though most of them were completely unaware of what was happening or interested. But you didn’t mind them. Not when your world seemed to turn inside out, your whole insides feeling like a merry go round never stopping. “It appeared in my favorite book in the library. Isn’t that weird, it was like someone knew I read it everyday during lunch.”

A smile so beautiful stretched his lips. Even if it was split, Steve didn’t seem to mind the pain in doing so. “Yeah. How weird? How could someone know you loved The Hobbit so much?”

This time, the smile reached your face.

“How did you know it was The Hobbit?”

A wink from his non injured eye. “Let’s go talk inside, you’re freezing.”

Even if he was the one injured, Steve helped you get up and led you inside. No one made another comment against you or him, people even got out of the way to let you two walk in. Even if he lost the fight against Tommy, Steve was still the king.

And you had a crush on him. He had a crush on you. How cool was that?

Forever taglist: @nitnat6245 @eevvvaa @wickedinspirations​@fictional-affairs @awkward-and-indecisive​​ @peachyaliien @katbratsupernaturalwhore

[sunflowerharrington]

stwg prompt (27/4/23) - buzzed hair/shaved head

wc: 1076

🩵

Wayne hasn’t been feeling too confident in his looks, lately. Usually he doesn’t care, but when he looks at Eddie, he wishes he still had hair like that. Every so often in Hawkins a new person gets the “hair” nickname. Currently it’s Steve Harrington, Eddie’s friend — or more than a friend, Wayne’s not too sure — and it reminded him of when that used to happen in Tennessee too. When Wayne was in highschool, he was “the hair.”

He’s surprised he hasn’t died yet from the fumes of hairspray finally catching up to him, but the smoking will do that someday. All the products he used to use, all the times at school when the girls would come to him for hair techniques… All of that is gone now, and so is his hair.

A slight sob catches in his throat as he runs his fingers over what’s left of his hair. What’s left of his hair… Nothing much. It’s gray and white and barely there now. But he can’t let go of his highschool days. How the hell is he supposed to go back out into the dating scene without his long, luscious locs to help him?

He hasn’t dated since then, hasn’t had the courage or the confidence. Even when he still had his hair, he couldn’t bring himself to ask a girl out.

Some people can take up addictions to help with loss and grief, but if he were to tell anyone he’s a smoker because it helps him deal with the stress of losing his hair and not being “attractive” anymore, they’d laugh at him, make a joke out of it. There’s only so many jeers and snide comments he can take before he drives back home and cries himself to sleep.

He’s been doing that a lot lately, hoping his pillow muffles it enough so Eddie can’t hear. But Eddie can’t exactly hear anything outside of his room when he’s blasting that goddamn metal. Not that it’s bad or anything, Wayne likes it too, sometimes, but only when it’s not at an eardrum-shattering volume.

Today is the worst of it, the worst he’s felt in a long ass time about his looks. But there’s no point in buying a wig or trying to grow it out again because anyone who knows him already knows what he looks like without it. So there’s no point, and he won’t bother.

But maybe having hair might help him feel better about himself? No, it takes too long to grow out and he sure as hell knows nothing’s gonna grow on the top of his head anymore, maybe the sides, but that’ll look ridiculous.

So he doesn’t bother.

It’s only in the evening when he’s starting to feel a little better and has stopped crying. But not for long… because as he walks to the bathroom, the sound of a hair trimmer buzzes to life and someone’s laughing quietly to themselves in the bathroom.

Eddie.

It’s Eddie.

Half of his— what the fuck?

“What in the goddamn hell are you doing, son?” Wayne exclaims, watching as another few strands of Eddie’s hair fall into the sink. “Wha— Eddie! Put that damn thing down!”

Eddie does, in fact, not put that damn thing down and continues shaving. Strand after strand, his smile grows wider, and he looks at Wayne’s reflection in the mirror.

“Hair grows back,” Eddie says with a half smile. “I did it for you.”

“Why?” Wayne can't stop the tears from falling now, they gather in his lower eyelashes and drop down onto his cheeks.

“Because I want you to know that you’ve still got it. With or without hair. You’re a handsome man, and if anyone disagrees they’re obviously blind. You don’t need hair to be handsome and I don’t either.”

“You’re crazy,” Wayne says, laughing a little.

“On the contrary, I’m a genius,” Eddie says with another smile. “And I’m also doing this to help my friend, Jane. A bad man shaved her head and she hasn’t been feeling confident, says she looks ugly without hair. But she doesn’t. You look handsome without hair, she looks beautiful without hair, and Jim Hopper looks hotter than ever without hair.”

“Boy, don’t you dare tell me you’ve still got a thing for Jim.”

Eddie stays silent. Wayne frowns.

“What?” Eddie says, holding his hands up. “You gotta admit he’s hot.”

Wayne tuts. “He’s old enough to be your old man!”

“So?” Eddie smirks. “I’m legal, he’s legal…”

“He’s also married!”

Eddie gasps. “Jim and Joyce got married?! Why wasn’t I invited?!”

“I don’t think they’d want you jumping up on the tables at the reception, son,” Wayne replies, turning off the machine for him.

“I don’t— Oh… You’ve got a point.”

“I’ve got a point and no hair.”

“Me too!”

“No, I was right, you were wrong, son. I have the point.”

Eddie shrugs. “Alright, fine. You win. But he’s still ho—”

“No, not finishing this conversation,” Wayne interrupts, backing away out the door. “Be with someone your own age, like Harrington’s kid. I see the way you look at him and he looks at you—”

“And I’m not having that conversation,” Eddie replies.

Wayne snickers, starting to feel like himself again.

“No. Wayne, no. I don’t… I don’t like him like that! We’re just friends.”

“Mhm mhm.”

“Wayne!” Eddie whines. “Stop!”

“Son,” Wayne says, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Just try.”

“Okay fine, I’ll only do it if you ask Claudia on a date.”

“You want Dustin to be your brother, huh?” Wayne’s smiling again, so is Eddie.

“If I ever have an argument with Steve over who Dustin’s favorite is I wanna be able to say it’s obviously me ‘cause I’m his brother,” Eddie says. “But no, that’s not the only reason. You wanna find love, right? At least try. The worst she can say is no.”

“I’ve got better things to be doing than—”

“Remember the deal? You said—”

“Alright, fine!” Wayne throws his hands up. And he wonders where Eddie gets his dramatics from… “I’ll ask her on a date.”

Eddie fist pumps the air. “I love you!” He barrels Wayne into a hug.

Wayne smiles again, and finally, he feels like maybe he can still be handsome without his hair. He’s gonna remember this day for the rest of his life, maybe even add a part about it into his wedding speech if things with Claudia go well.

[be-steddie-myheart]

steve helps eddie quit smoking (just tobacco cigarettes but the weed)

i wish i had a friend like steve to help me quit smoking lol

“You know those are horrible for you, Eds.” Steve said pointedly, watching as Eddie lit another cigarette.

“I’m aware Harrington, but they’re just so good.” Eddie flashed him a dazzling smile, and Steve tried not to think about why that had made his heart clench and beat faster. They were laying on the roof of Eddie’s newly gifted, government hush-hush trailer, staring at the stars. The moonlight shining on Eddies face made had Steve staring for longer than he knew he should. Probably something to explore later.

“Seriously, Eddie, you should quit. I can help you. I used to smoke but I realized it was just stinky and I could never breathe.”

“I wont go down without a fight, Steve. You can pry these cigarettes out of my cold dead hands.” Eddie laughed.

“Thats what your hands are gonna be if you dont quit.” Steve glared at Eddie. Eddie put his hands up in mock surrender.

“Okay okay. Do your worst.”

~~~~

“Don’t you think I know how bad this is?” Eddie stared at the three different pamphlets Steve had handed him a couple days after their conversation on the roof. “None of these facts are gonna scare me.”

“You haven’t even read the information, Ed.”

“Don’t have to, I’m aware of it sweetheart.” Steves stomach fluttered at the nickname and he could feel a blush creeping up onto his neck. Again, something to focus on later.

~~~~

Steve was so sure he had the perfect idea to get Eddie to quit this time. He had printed out pictures of what smokers lungs look like. No way Eddie would want to continue after seeing how awful these images are. He knocked on Eddies door. He could hear footsteps and then the doorknob rattling. The door opened and Steve had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. Eddie stood before him with no shirt on, hair pulled back into a low bun and in a pair of old grey sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips. Steve could see the band of his boxers, and the trail of hair that started under his naval and traveled all the way down….

“What a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie asked, unaware of the effect he was having on Steve. Steve wasnt even sure what kind of effect it was, but he packed it away for later. His Eddie box was going to burst at the seams if he didnt examine it soon. Steve cleared his throat and shook his head.

“These are your lungs, Munson.” Steve handed over the pictures.

“How did you get these pictures of my lungs exactly, Harrington?” Eddie teased.

Steve felt the blush creeping up his neck again, “you know what i mean ass, this is what the smoking is doing to your lungs. See how black they are? Thats not healthy.”

“Its pretty metal. Blackened lungs? Good song name. Maybe I’ll start writing it and dedicate it to you.” Eddie laid his head against the doorframe and smiled at Steve. Steve packed more things away. Too many things.

“You’re impossible.” Steve rolled his eyes.

~~~~

Steve and Eddie were laying on his roof again, looking up at the stars when Eddie reached into his pocket and got his cigarettes and a lighter out. Steve snatched it out his hand before he could put it in his mouth.

“Give that back, Harrington.” Eddie honest to god giggled.

“No! These are not good for you, have a sucker instead.” Steve reached into his own pocket and pulled out a small sucker. “I have plenty of them, they should help in case you need something in your mouth or something to do with your hands.”

“Something in my mouth would probably help with the cravings.” Eddie winked at Steve. Alarm bells were going off in his head and he was packing, packing, packing more stuff away in his little box. Steves entire body felt hot. Almost on autopilot he gave Eddie both the cigarette and the sucker back. His voice was not working.

~~~~

“What if for every day you didnt smoke, you got a reward or something? Like, a dollar, or a guitar pick, or something?” Steve asked Eddie. They were sharing a joint on Steves bed.

“How come I can smoke weed but not cigarettes?” Eddie asked, ignoring Steve entirely.

“Well, cigarettes cause cancer. And weed is just, ya know, weed. Its not bad for you.” Steve supplied.

“Mm,” Eddie hummed in response, “a reward you said?”

“Yeah like something to look forward to so you dont get the urge to smoke. Whatever you want, I can do it for you if you try to quit smoking.”

“How about every day that I don’t smoke, you give me a nice little kiss for a job well done?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. Steves entire body froze.

“Uh, well.. wait, are you sure? serious? Um, that could.. I guess if you were serious about.. That would be a helpful reward.” Steve stumbled out and Eddie laughed.

“Relax big boy, you don’t have to kiss me. I was just teasing.”

Everything was quiet for a little bit. Steve and Eddie laying next to each other, passing a joint back and forth in silence. Steve’s Eddie box was threatening to burst open. Maybe now would be a good time to unpack. Theres no time like the present or whatever the fuck they say. Steve thought to himself.

“What, uh, Eddie, whats it like? Kissing a boy?” Steve didnt know if this was going to go good or bad. But he had opened the box and now there was no closing it.

“Well, my only kiss for a girl was when I was 12 years old and trying to make myself like girls so I dont have much experience there to compare. I’d think it would be pretty similar. Except you know, girls are probably smooth whereas boys can have stubbly cheeks. It can kind of tickle.” Eddie responded, seeming unsure of where this conversation was going.

“Yeah, girls have smooth cheeks.” Steve responded, leaving a feeling of uncertainty in the air.

“Stevie,” Eddie started out slowly, “Are you asking because you’re just curious for curiosity sake, or…”

Steve decided to just go for it, he surged forward and smashed his lips against Eddie’s, no thinking allowed, only actions. Eddies cheek was a little stubbly, and Steve liked it. Steves entire body lit up and he felt like he could fly, he didn’t know how long to keep his lips on Eddie’s but if he got a choice it would be never.

A small gasp of surprise came out of Eddie when their lips first touched but then his hand went to the base of Steves neck. After what seemed like forever, Steve pulled away.

“Sorry if you didnt want that, but you made the joke about kissing as a reward and honestly Eddie ive been wondering for a while now what it would be like to kiss you and I just didnt think I could wait any longer, and you know its probably because of the weed, you can go-“ Steve was rambling and Eddie cut him off with another kiss to the lips.

“I’ll never smoke another cigarette again if thats my reward.” Eddie said lowly, his voice smooth and pooling at the bottom of Steves stomach. Steve thinks maybe kissing a guy might be better than kissing a girl.

“If you stop smoking you can have all the kisses you want.”

[strngr-thngs]

One of my favourite plot errors in stranger things is that Steve Harrington smokes but it’s only mentioned once.

He smokes at his “house party” he throws in the first season and then it’s never mentioned it again all because the show received backlash after season two ended up having so many more scenes with smoking in them than that first. And that it was apparently influencing younger people to start smoking and was tempting ex-smokers to start again. So they canned that aspect of his character because he plays a teenager in the show.

[alwaysteveswife]

Titanic | Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader (part 1)

Sorry, it took longer than I wanted to do this chapter, but I needed to redo the scenes where it was difficult to make the gender change fit in. Anyway, I'll try to upload more often 🥲.

(Short, I know, but it's five in the morning and I'm about to fall asleep listening to the Titanic soundtrack).

Words: 666

It had been more than three hours since the ship had sailed. Most of the passengers already had their belongings out of their suitcases, arranged in the trunks in the rooms or lying on the bed in complete disarray.

Robin and Y/N, like those many people, had stowed their few belongings in the small trunks given to the lower class.

The room was no big deal. It was small, so small that there was only a single berth, a nightstand and the trunk. Despite that, the girls couldn't have been more excited. Y/N had spent the last three hours going over how much money they had won in the bet, and Robin, on the other hand, had been pacing around the harried room, prattling on about how this was her dream come true.

"We have to go, Y/N, it's the welcome party, or boat, what difference does it make? it's a free party!" Robin insisted, sitting down on the floor next to her best friend and only confidant "it'll be fun, I promise."

Y/N let out a giggle so low that, if it weren't for Robin's incredible hearing, she wouldn't have even heard it. "Why don't you go by yourself? I don't feel like going out at this hour, it was too emotionally packed a day."

"I know, I know, but it'll only be ten minutes, after that you can come back here and rest" Robin pleaded, taking Y/N's hands and squeezing them gently "Please?".

She just rolled her eyes, causing a big smile to settle on Robin's face. She had won.

Y/N took a big breath of fresh air, letting out a big sigh and relaxing his muscles. Contrary to what she thought, the party had been very hectic. There were people dancing everywhere. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes flooded the room that could barely cope with all the people in it. Yes, it was suffocating, but it wasn't unpleasant to the point of vomiting either, or at least that's what Y/N tried to tell herself as she remembered the countless number of people she saw getting drunk until they passed out.

She stretched both arms above her head, walking across the deck of the ship slowly. It was quite late, so there weren't many people next to her, except for a few night workers watching from above.

She reached into her right pocket, pulling out a cigarette that, much to her regret -or so she tried to convince herself- she had been forced to steal.

She lit the fire as easily as an expert smoker could, perhaps she was. She sat on a bench near the ship's rail, taking a long puff of smoke and staring up at the night sky. It looked splendid.

She closed her eyes for a moment, barely a few seconds, seconds that were enough for quick, heavy footsteps to come towards her at full speed. When she opened her eyes there was no one in front of her. She looked both ways, stifling a gasp as she saw a smartly dressed man start to climb over the railing.

"Wait!" came from Y/N's lips, so loud and sure that even she couldn't believe she had said that. "Don't do it," she said, watching every move expectantly, slowly approaching.

And then, as if he was waiting for her to speak to him -or at least Y/N wanted to think so- the boy turned away.

The air caught in her throat as she saw him face to face. He was beautiful. There was a lot of wind, enough to ruffle his chocolate brown hair, his eyes looked dark but bright at the same time, they looked as if they were searching for a reason to live.

And Y/N set out to give it to him, even if it would only be temporary.

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Tag: @kaverichauhan