#twelve days of stevemas

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Made With Love (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Made With Love (Rated T)

Request?: Technically YES (say thank you to @bakerstreethound, everyone)

Pairing: Husband!Steve Harrington x Wife!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k+

Warnings: Brief infrequent language with a slight innuendo; Reader is also AFAB (a female at birth) due to mention of pregnancy

Summary: For Stevemas Day 10; After getting married, you and Steve started to move into his parents' old home. Upon packing, you come across some of Steve's old belongings. When more of these creations keep popping up, you come to discover your husband has a bit of a surprise for you. What happens when it turns out you have a surprise of your own?

The first experience you had with Steve’s new hobby happened shortly after you moved into your new home. Well, your new home, his old one. Once the two of you officially tied the knot, Steve’s parents allowed their son to take ownership of their home. In actuality, it had taken a lot of convincing to get them to feel comfortable moving into a smaller place on the outskirts of Hawkins. For months, your husband needed to go back and forth packing and unpacking boxes of yours and theirs. 

It was a lot of work, but he wouldn’t have changed it for the world. The end result was the two of you finally have a place to call your own. You finally had somewhere to settle down and have the family you both laid awake for hours imagining. 

You were home. 

One night when you were unpacking boxes, you came across some of Steve’s old things. Before the house, your shared apartment was incredibly small, just cozy enough for the two of you to cuddle on the couch to watch tapes from work and go to bed together every night. Most of your belongings had either ended up stashed in boxes in the closet or in your mother’s garage until you had found a more permanent home. Sure, you had to share space with your younger brother’s mad science lab, but at least your stuff was safe…relatively speaking. 

You hardly remembered seeing this box prior to the move and curiosity was a temptress. As you flipped open the lid, a smile fluttered against your face when you noticed a soft knitted blanket nestled atop other trinkets. You reached in to pull it out and found yourself immediately wrapping it around your frame. It was a mishmash of pastel colors: blues and greens and purples all intertwined by the softest yarn you had ever felt in your life. You assumed it was a gift to Steve from his grandma, Eleanor Louise Harrington. 

When you were dating, Steve would tell you the most wonderful stories about the woman who was always there for him. She would be in charge of watching over him whenever his parents were out of town at a young age, which was more often than not. Grandma Eleanor was the reason little Steve loved the holidays. She’d always make it special for him, whether it was reading the Twas the Night Before Christmas every Christmas Eve or teaching him to make her special gingersnaps for Santa. When she passed away when he was thirteen, Steve had needed to learn the hard way how the world wasn’t always made of the magic Grandma Eleanor helped him believe in.

It wasn’t until he met you that his Christmas spirit slowly started to make its return. 

You placed the blanket back in the box and set it on your husband’s side of the closet. Even though you had already peeked inside, you didn’t want to invade the remainder of his privacy. For the rest of the day, your gaze would lock onto the box and a smile would fall upon your features before you kissed Steve for being sentimental. Now, Steve himself didn’t understand just why you were being so affectionate, but there was one thing he knew for a fact: he would never refuse kisses from the love of his life. 

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

Your second encounter occurred a few months later, once the winter chill began to set in. You had been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot behind the wheel of your husband’s treasured BMW for your brother to barge out and demand entry into the passenger’s seat. Steve had decided to take on another shift at Family Video in order to have a little extra cash for holidays, so you volunteered to pick Dustin up from school.

“It’s alright if you need to use the heat, babe,” Steve had called out. “It’s cold out there. Don’t need you turning into a popsicle before Christmas!” 

“Good thing I have you to warm me up when I get back,” you teased with a smile and a wink, fingers snatching up the keys from his left coat pocket. 

“A husband’s job is never done, is it?” Steve gave a rather dramatic sigh.

As you made contact with the cold metal, your hand brushed something else much softer. You frowned as you reached deeper inside the pocket and pulled out a grey knitted glove. It was slightly misshapen but made from soft yarn, similar to that of the blanket still stashed away in your shared bedroom. Without thinking, you raised it up into the air in question toward your husband. 

“Think I might steal these,” you called out and grabbed the matching mitt from his pocket before you head out the door toward his car. 

A knock on the passenger window snapped you from your thoughts. As you turned your head, you noticed Dustin waving at you with a frown on his face. “Can you open the door?” his muffled shout questioned. “I’m freezing my nuts off out here.”

His naturally curly hair looked matted as he yanked off his hat: a red knitted trapper. “Jesus,” he continued to ramble as he tugged on the seat belt across his form. “Where were you?! It has to be like negative ten outside.”

“I’ve been waiting out here for the last thirty minutes!” you argued. “I was starting to think you had gotten a ride from someone else.”

“I mean where were you just now? I was knocking on the window for at least five minutes.”

Oh, whoops. “Sorry.” You reached over the center console to adjust the heat and turn up the radio. A smile formed as “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” began to play over the speakers. “Guess I got a little bit distracted.”

Your brother scoffed. “I’ll say,” he muttered. “Get married and all of a sudden, you and Steve hardly ever pay attention to us anymore. Do you guys ever take a breath from sucking face or is that just around me?”

“Dustin!”

“Fine, fine!” Dustin held his hands up in mock surrender. “Can you just drop me off at Mike’s? We’re supposed to be planning this oneshot for when Will finally gets back home.” 

There was a pregnant pause that lingered throughout the car as you shifted gears and started the trek to the Wheeler’s residence. You felt Dustin’s eyes on you the entire time. His mouth opened and then shut a few times, as though he was preparing to ask you something and had decided against it. 

“Something’s different about you,” he mused. You felt his stare on you, much more focused than before. In your peripheral, you noticed he was squinting now. “Did you get a haircut?”

“...No?” you shifted self-consciously in the driver’s seat. Your brother was the Sherlock Holmes of the family, detective extraordinaire. Great for uncovering interference from the Upside Down, not so much when it comes to getting involved in your personal life. “And will you stop staring at me like that?” You waved a free mitten-covered hand in his direction. “It’s freaking me the hell out.”

“Oh, he gave you a pair, too!” Dustin noted with a grin. “They’re a lot better than his first try, aren’t they?”

You frowned and risked a quick glance in his direction before you returned your gaze to the road ahead. “What?”

“The gloves! Steve gave ‘em to you, right?”

“Not exactly,” you explained. “I took them from his coat. What do you mean they’re better than his first try?”

The car returned to silence once again. 

“Dustin?”

Silence. A quick look over toward your brother revealed he had suddenly become interested in the fresh piles of snow against the side of the road. Nose wrinkled, you shook your head and pulled into the Wheeler’s street. Unfortunately for Dustin, mystery solving was in your genetics, and this was one question you wanted answered.  

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

“Babe?” you called out as you walked into the foyer of the house that evening. When you had taken Steve’s car from work, you had left him yours in the parking lot. You were surprised to see it back in the driveway once you arrived home after dropping Dustin off. Your stay had been much longer than you anticipated, with Nancy trying to make plans to finish Christmas shopping with you later in the week since she was home from Boston. 

“Shit,” came the faint hiss of your husband’s voice from the living room. As you started to make your way toward the sound, you heard him clear his throat. “You’re back early, babe. I thought Dustin wanted to go to the mall to do some shopping.”

“Uh, no. He needed us to drop him off at the Wheelers. Something about some campaign they’ve been planning for Will,” you said with a frown. “Why is it so dark in here?”

As you flicked the lights on, you couldn’t help but blink at the sight before you. There was your husband perched in one of the armchairs you had gotten from your mother. He was wearing his wire-framed glasses, a side-effect of a few too many blows to the noggin over the years. Half a blanket was draped over his knee, pooling onto the floor below. As you walked closer, you noticed two large metal sticks in his hands. They were twitching as he stared over at you owlishly with wide eyes. 

“Did you…make this?” you whispered almost far too quietly as you knelt down to lift up the edge of the blanket. Running your hand along it, you smiled at the soft yarn’s texture. It was a beautiful blanket with its blend of purples, orange, and yellows. The pattern reminded you of your favorite time of day: sunset. When you started dating, you used to drag Steve to the top of Walker’s Mountain to watch it almost every night. To most people, the setting of the sun meant the end of another busy day. To you, though, it was a reminder of how you survived another day no matter what evils may have been against you. 

“Uh, y-yeah,” Steve stuttered. “It was mostly me.”

You tilted your head to look up at him. “Mostly?”

“Well, Virginia helped. Marge, too.”

“Marge? Virginia?” An amused smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Something I have to be worried about, honey?”

“No!!” your husband was quick to exclaim. “No, no. They’re just…”

“Just…?”

A sigh escaped Steve’s lips as he set the knitting needles down into his lap. He leaned forward to ghost his lips against your hairline. “Look,” he said. “I’ve uh, I’ve been going to the community center between shifts at the store on Saturday. There’s this class they host– more like a club.” He hesitated, glancing between you and the blanket in his lap. “They teach you how to knit.”

You smiled. “So you’ve been learning to knit?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded. “It’s actually been…nice, you know? Helps give me something to do. I don’t feel as helpless as I used to. It’s more peaceful than anything.”

“You know I wouldn’t tease you for this, right?” you asked, hands reaching up to gently cradle his face. Your heart strained at the thought of Steve being afraid of getting judged by you for what his father would have considered a so-called woman’s hobby. “I think it’s great you’ve found a hobby.”

“What?” Steve asked in shock. “No- no, that’s not why I was- oh, shit, babe. Did you think I didn’t want to- oh, no. That’s not it. I was going to tell you!” He chuckled a bit and sighed, lifting up the unfinished blanket in his lap. “I, uh, I just didn’t want to until I finished this.”

“Is this,” you started, “for me?”

Your husband nodded and used one hand to smooth out the knitted material. “I know how much you love sunsets,” he said quietly, “and I know we missed a lot of them with everything that went down over the years. I thought this might make up for it.”

You practically melted into a puddle from your kneeling position on the floor. Without another word, you bounced up as pressed your lips to his, ignoring the awkward feeling of his frames as they pressed into your face. “I love you,” you breathed out as you broke apart. 

“I love you, too,” Steve was quick to reply. “I just didn’t want to jinx myself and mess up this surprise, you know?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” you soothed. “But, uh, I think you might need to make a few adjustments to it.”

Steve’s face dropped. “Is something wrong with it? Do you not like it?!” he fretted. “Oh God, I knew I should have picked another pattern–”

“Babe,” you interrupted. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What?” 

Hiding a smile, you reached across his lap to smooth out the blanket. You absentmindedly started to trace shapes into it as you glanced up at him. “It’s a beautiful blanket, Steve,” you said slowly. “But I think it’ll need to be a little bigger.”

Steve furrowed his brow and tilted his head to the side. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “This should be plenty big for us to use on the couch.”

“For right now, yeah,” you chose your words carefully. A knowing smile threatened to stretch around your lips and you had to fight the urge to let it show. “But I don’t think that’ll be the case in a year.”

Steve followed your gaze lower down your body, resting upon your abdomen. You couldn’t help it. A risked glance back up at him told you his brain was slowly putting the pieces together. “Are you-” he asked, eyes snapping up to meet yours. “Are you really?”

When your smile finally broke free and you nodded, your husband all but threw his unfinished product across the room and pulled you into a heated kiss. As you threaded your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, you felt his lips curl into a smile against your own. His fingers danced their way under the hem of your shirt and pressed themselves against the skin of your stomach. He let them linger there for a moment before he released you on his lap.

“I was going to wait until Christmas to tell you,” you admitted, “but I just couldn’t help it. Especially when you were being as sweet as this.”

Steve laughed, a genuine one that sent butterflies soaring within your stomach. Your heart swelled at the sight of pure happiness which radiated off of him in waves. “That little shit was right,” he said between chuckles. “Knew I should have listened to him.”

You rolled your eyes. Leave it to your little brother’s observational skills to almost ruin the moment.  

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

One year later, you sat on the couch with Steve’s sunset blanket across your lap and two little babies asleep in your arms. It had been a long and eventful year, but you wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything. This year was Amelia and Emery’s first Christmas as part of your little family and you couldn’t be happier.

Yes, you and Steve hardly had any sleep the night before, thanks to last minute preparations between the screams of hungry twins. Yes, you were already exhausted despite only being fully awake for two hours. Yet this was the moment you had been dreaming about for twelve months. You weren’t so much as going to blink if it meant risking losing a moment of this special day.

A few moments later, Steve slid onto the couch beside you with two mugs of hot chocolate in hand. As much as you would kill for a real caffeine hit, you couldn’t resist the alluring smell of melted chocolate and cinnamon. Your husband placed his mug on the coffee table and reached for Em so you could take the warm beverage from his other hand. 

The two of you enjoyed the peaceful sounds of cooing four-month-olds paired with the soft hum of Christmas carols played over the radio for a while. As you leaned against your husband, he pressed a kiss to your temple and gently tapped your side – a signal to adjust your position. He placed a sleeping Em into the portable crib you had brought downstairs the previous evening before doing the same for Amy. 

“Sorry,” he apologized with a meek smile. “I would’ve let them sleep there, but I have something for you.” He walked over to the tree and picked up a small box wrapped in candy cane patterned paper. When he came back to the couch, he set it atop the blanket on your lap and moved to sit down with an arm draped over your shoulders. 

“I thought we said no gifts for each other this year,” you mused. “It was just for the girls.”

“We did,” Steve agreed with a nod. “I mean, technically I didn’t break that promise. It’s not anything big, I promise. I just…I thought you might like it.”

You shot him a questioning glance before you used your fingers to delicately tear at the wrapping, being incredibly careful not to wake the sleeping children nearby. When you opened the box, a small gasp escaped your lips. Inside, wrapped in a cocoon of white tissue paper, were two small Santa hats. Knitted in a yarn as red of holly berries, both hats were adorned with a fuzzy white pom-pom and trim around the brim. When you lifted them out of the box, you began to tear up. At the brim of each hat was a series of embroidery of your daughters’ names: Amelia Robin Harrington and Emery Louise Harrington.

Overcome with emotion, you immediately turned to look at your husband. Steve was already looking down at you, concern etched on his features. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asked, voice shaking slightly. “Do you not like it–”

 Just like you did twelve months ago, you silenced his ramblings with a kiss. This time, it was one of pure unadulterated love. You clung onto his blue and white Christmas sweater for dear life. Tears of happiness pricked at your eyes as you ran a hand against the side of his face. When you broke apart, you sent him a teary smile. “You really are amazing, Steve Harrington,” you whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he answered almost immediately. 

You turned your attention back down to the little hats in your lap and glanced over to the portable crib that held your sleeping angels. You knew it would be a struggle to keep the hats on for long, but you hoped it would at least last until Jonathan arrived with his camera later on in the evening. 

This was by far the best Christmas you had ever had and deep down you knew this was only the beginning. You smiled fondly to yourself as you thought about all of the other Christmas Days your little family would have for the rest of your lives. It had been a tough journey to get to where you were, but you wouldn't have changed a second for the world because you and Steve found your family… 

…and that's all you could ever want or need.

============

Author's Note: I'm not crying, you are. No seriously, I had so much fun writing down this idea after receiving this through an ask by the amazing Ace. I got to explore the early days of Dad!Steve and learn more about his life with the reader a bit along the way. My only frustration is I couldn't keep this fic as gender neutral as I would have liked, but I'm still incredibly happy with how it came out.

We're only two fics away from the end of Stevemas. How are we liking the event so far?! If you enjoyed this fic and want to see more like it on my blog, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend who you think might like it, and reblog this post! Likes are appreciated, but it's these other interactions that really help spread the word about my writing and motivate me to keep creating content like this for you all to enjoy! If you want to keep up to date with the last few days of Stevemas or want to see more of my work in the future, maybe consider giving my blog a follow, too! I promise I won't spam you too much with promoting other writers' amazing works :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Letters to Santa - (Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Letters to Santa (Rated G)

Pairing: Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: None; Just fluffy Christmas fun with the kiddos again!

Summary: For Stevemas; It’s Christmastime again and the girls are around five years old now. When you and Steve try to start writing letters to Santa, little Amy refuses. What’s threatening your family’s Christmas cheer and is there anything you can do to save the holiday?

“Alright, squirts,” Steve said as leaned down to be eye-level with the twins. “It’s time!” He braced his palms against the rough fabric of his Levi’s and stared into the bright eyes before him. Even though they were about five years old by now, the idea of how tiny they once were still blew his mind. 

Little Emery was his spitting image as she clasped her hands together. Her light brown copper curls bounced in excitement as she tilted her head side to side. Her lighter-haired sister, Amelia, was more subdued with her questioning look. She had gotten most of her mannerisms from you, Steve swore. Unlike her twin, Amy left her hands in her lap and merely peeked up at her father’s brown eyes. 

His beautiful little girls, who were growing up way too fast. They had just started preschool this September, which, while it allowed both you and Steve to return back to work, it broke his heart to have to drop them off at the classroom every morning.

“Whatsit time for, daddy?” Em asked, question mixed with giggles which stemmed from Steve’s exaggerated look of surprise. 

“Well, Emmy,” he replied with an air of mischief to his tone, “I’m so glad you asked. It’s time to write our letters to Santa!!” 

The loud gasp that filled the room soon after was music to Steve’s ears. Em began bouncing excitedly against the old sofa cushion. She all but threw herself at her father, which caused Steve to quickly wrap his arms protectively around her small form. Ever since the two of you began the tradition with your daughters, Em couldn’t wait for it. When you would sit with the girls on your nights off of work, she would crowd around the toys section of the paper and ask you to cut things out here and there. Steve was pretty sure that Santa was really going to have his work cut out for him this year. 

Thank the North Pole for his little helpers. 

Amy had shared her twin’s excitement the last two years. When she broached with the activity now, her eyes dulled and went back to watching It’s A Wonderful Life on the television set. It was almost as if she wasn’t interested…but that’s not possible, is it?

“C’mon Amy,” Steve tried to coax his girl into his only other free arm. “Don’t ya wanna write a letter to Santa? Tell him what you want this year?”

To his surprise, Amy only shook her head. “No thank you,” she mumbled, eyes still transfixed on the television. What kid didn’t want to write a letter to Santa asking for new toys? 

“Are you sure?” he tried again, adjusting Em to rest against his hip. The darker-haired twin was still bouncing with excitement, chubby hands grabbing at his shirt. “How else is he gunna know what toys to bring ya?”

“I don’t want anything.”

Now this was concerning. It was one thing to not want to write a letter, but not wanting anything for Christmas? That’s when Steve started to panic. Was it something the two of you had done? Did he say something to upset her about Christmas? Sure, you had been heatedly discussing the financials for the rest of the year, but you had made a promise to always set aside some money to give the girls a good Christmas. He had thought the girls were sleeping at the time. Was it possible Amy had overheard? 

Desperate for a second opinion, Steve tried a different approach. “Alright,” he relented. “But how about you come to the kitchen with us anyway? Maybe we can have some of Auntie Robin’s christmas cookies before dinner. It’ll be our little secret, but you’ll have to eat it in the kitchen, okay?”

After promising to not tell you about the great cookie heist plan, Amy reluctantly agreed to trail behind him into the kitchen to where you were waiting. You looked up from your spot at the kitchen table and nearly melted at the sight. Steve was obviously vying for the Father of the Year title with one child on his hip, the other delicately holding his hand while walking beside him. 

“Who’s ready to write to…Santa?” you asked excitedly, trailing off a bit when you noticed your husband’s subtle shake of the head and glance at Amy. 

“ME!” Em squirmed to be let out of Steve’s grip. He obliged rather quickly, depositing her in the seat across from you. Your dark-haired daughter’s legs kicked happily against the wooden legs as she reached for a pen. 

“Hold on a second, Emmy bear,” Steve cautioned, being careful to push the pens just out of reach. As she pouted, your husband glanced over at you with a worrisome look. The silent question reverberated off his face: can we talk?

As you made your way into the hallway, Steve made quick work of swiping two cookies for your girls before following you out of the room. As he stood before you, you knit your brow together. “What’s going on?” you asked. 

“Amy doesn’t want to write a letter to Santa,”  your husband blurted out. 

You felt your eyes widen in shock. “What?!”

“I don’t know why! And when I asked her how he was gunna know what she wants, she said she didn’t want anything!” The sheer panic was evident in Steve’s voice. Almost instantly you understood what was going on in his mind. It may have taken you a few years to understand his quirks, but now that you knew them, it was like reading a far-more-intricate picture book. The last thing he wanted was for his kids to resent Christmas as much as he did as a kid without a real family. 

You placed your palms against his sweater sleeves and rubbed soothing circles into the soft fabric. “Baby,” you said, “it’s going to be okay. One letter does not mean she hates Christmas! She was excited about it the other day.” 

“What happened then?” Steve fretted. “It took us so long to convince her the tradition was real. What did we do-”

“We didn’t do anything!” you tried to snap him out of it. “At least, I don’t think so. Why don’t we just, I don’t know, ask her what’s going on instead of trying to understand a four-year-old on our own?”

“Right…right. That…would probably make more sense.” Steve poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey Amy, honey, could you come out here for a minute?”

The house was silent for a moment before you heard the small pitter-patter of tiny feet crossing through the kitchen. A minute later, Amy stood before you, cookie crumbs still apparent on her face. You had to fight the urge to smile at her sad pout. “Yesh, daddy?” she asked Steve.  

Without another word, you scooped up your precious growing girl into your arms and sat down cross-legged on the floor. “Daddy was just telling me you don’t want to write to Santa this year,” you explained. “Do you not know what you want to say to him? Because we can always wait a few days, bean.”

Amy shook her head. “S’okay,” she said. 

You frowned at Steve over her head. This did seem weird. Not even three days ago, you had overheard her talking to Em about their letters to Santa. You were pretty sure she was going to ask for a new doll…or a puppy. Only one of which would even be able to happen, thanks to your and Steve’s hectic work schedules. This new attitude toward the task was the ultimate switch. “Did something happen?” you didn’t want to press her, but her outlook was concerning. 

There was a long moment of silence as your daughter squirmed uncomfortably in your lap. She appeared to be contemplating something, which was impressive for a four-year-old. “Tyler said Santa’s for babies,” she spoke quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “And that he’s not real.”

Steve met your gaze for a moment over your daughter’s light-haired head. This was what was bothering her? “Why’s it Tyler says Santa isn’t real, bean?” he asked softly. 

“‘Cause he hasn’t seen ‘im.”

 “Well, just because you haven’t seen something,” you chimed in, voice gentle as a summer breeze, “doesn’t mean it’s not real.” 

Your husband nodded in agreement. “Yeah, just because you haven’t seen Uncle Dustin in a little while doesn’t make him less real, does it?” 

You felt your body relax at the mention of your little brother. Dustin was Amy’s own personal hero, who had recently abandoned her by choosing to study in New York at Columbia. To say you were proud of him would be an understatement. Ever since he was a kid, he had big plans of making an even bigger discovery. This was his dream and you couldn’t be any happier for him. Needless to say, though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t frustrated about the cost of your phone bill because of his long conversations with his niece…and your husband. 

Amy considered her father’s response. “No…” she relented quietly. 

“Well now, see?” You encouraged, lifting her a bit to be standing in your lap. “Tyler just doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I guess so,” the lisp in your daughter’s voice melted your heart. 

“How about…” Steve said as he reached over to steal her from you. “We write Santa the nicest and most specialist card he’s ever gotten. Who knows? Maybe he’ll write back!”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Really?!” she asked. 

Your husband nodded, determination glittering in his honey-brown eyes. “Mhm,” he said with a hum. “Then you can show it to Tyler when you go back to school, yeah? Wouldn’t that be something?!”

You have never seen your quiet daughter’s head bob up and down that fast. “Yeah!!” As soon as Steve set her down, Amy made a beeline for the kitchen table, already babbling to Em about her new master plan. 

“I knew it was a bad idea to send her to preschool,” Steve muttered to you while you both attempted to stand up again. Turns out getting older and having children made even the simplest of tasks more difficult. “Gets exposed to a punk like Tyler and-”

“Steve,” you interrupted him. “It’s one kid. We can’t hide them from the world forever.”

“I know, I know. I just- maybe until they’re old enough to go into kindergarten? I could switch my shifts around with Keith, be here more during the day-”

“HURRY UP, DADDY!” You nearly laughed at the impatience in Amy’s tone. Once she made her mind up on something, there was no stopping her. “WE GOTTA WRITETA SANTA!”

You stood on your tiptoes and placed a kiss against Steve’s cheek. “It’s going to be fine,” you promised. “We just have to let them grow up a little while still keeping the magic alive. I’ll take care of the girls. You go set up the special Santa mailbox outside.” Before you took another step, you appeared to reconsider. “Actually, on second thought, I’ll do that so you don’t break a finger again.”

“It was one time!!” Steve defended with an unwilling smile. As he turned to go back toward the kitchen, he caught you making a face in the corner of his eye. He shook his head in amusement before he stepped into the next room. He knew the rest of the evening would be exhausting, trying to stop the girls from fighting over which pen they could use, making sure no papers were ripped…but he wouldn’t change anything about it. 

His girls deserved the world, especially on Christmas. He just needed to get a little more creative on how to bring the Christmas spirit into their lives…

…lucky for him– and Amy– he had just the right idea.

============

Author’s Note: We’re back everyone! So sorry for the delay in posting Stevemas fics. Yesterday was particularly crazy for me and I learned that Tumblr was munching on posts. Hopefully it doesn’t happen with this fic. Amy and Em can’t wait to see you all again soon!

If you enjoyed this story and want to see more like it on my blog, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, and reblog this post. While likes are appreciated, its interactions like these that help spread the word about my writing and motivate me to keep writing for you all! Also, so you don’t miss an update, maybe give my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I won’t spam you with too many fandom rants and posts (except other amazing writers’ works).

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Tag list: @bakerstreethound

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Secret Santa (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Secret Santa (Rated G)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: None! Although, I'm sure my interpretation of secret santa is incorrect -- just a heads up.

Summary: For Stevemas Day 11; This Christmas, Robin decided to host a holiday celebration to bring the party together. When she adds in a little extra magic by starting a secret santa, Eddie recruits himself to help you find that perfect gift for that special someone.

It took you three times to read the two words on the page before you could finally understand it. Steve Harrington was written in red glitter pen on the folded slip in your hand. It was unmistakably Robin’s messy scrawl, but it still felt as if it was written in another language. Surely this couldn’t be right. 

“Alright,” came the voice of the aforementioned bubbly coworker. “Does everyone have a name for Secret Santa?”

There was a low murmur of agreement, followed by the crunch of paper, which spread throughout the Wheeler’s basement. Why you all continued to set up a base of operations in your best friend’s home remained a mystery. Perhaps you were just creatures of habit. Routines kept you safe, comfortable even. 

“Who’d you get?” The low voice of Eddie Munson caused you to quite literally jump from your thoughts. When he noticed your flinch, the metal head gave a small tut of concern. “Hey, you’re alright, you’re okay. It’s just me. It’s just…me.”

Ever since the attack, you’ve been considerably on edge. While nightmares took over your nights, paranoia filled your days. Every action could set you off. Whenever you closed your eyes, you saw it: that place and the horrors it contained. It happened so often and it felt so real. Sometimes you worried Henry had made his return. You had taken to sleeping with your Walkman at night, just in case. Never again did you want to return to that hellscape. 

Eddie repeated his question. “Who’d you get for secret Santa?”

“Why don’t you just mind your own business, Munson?” you snapped at the metalhead. “I think I’d be violating some sacred oath of the secret Santa if I told you.”

“I got Henderson,” Eddie supplied far too quickly. He rested his chin on your shoulder and tilted his head to look at you. “There. Now you have to tell me. And I know it isn’t me…you’d be grinning like the Cheshire cat if it was.” 

You sighed and held up the slip of paper clutched in your palm. Eddie wasted no time in snatching it up like the little gremlin that he was. A slow quiet whistle escaped him as he took in the name. “Well damn,” he said. “Didn’t you get lucky? This should be easy as pie for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The curly dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow at you in surprise. “You mean you’re not?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “Eddie, what are you talking about?”

“You and Harrington. You’re not…together or anything?”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Sure, you had found yourself spending more time with Steve Harrington over the last two years, but it didn’t mean you were together. The Upside Down had messed with each and every one of your friends, who you considered to be more like family by now. Your panic somehow ended up bringing you closer to Steve, a guy you only admired from afar during your high school days. If you had told your freshman self you would be swapping horror stories and spilling blood with King Steve, you’re pretty sure they would have a heart attack. 

The truth was, Steve had turned out to be the exact opposite of what you imagine. He was gentle and kind. The two of you had formed an unofficial nightmare prevention club. The near-nightly meetings would consist of multiple-hour-long conversations over stretched out phone cords or late night drives around downtown Hawkins. Other times, it was just silently sitting in Steve’s dark and abandoned living room, grip tightened on small objects hidden under blankets. These moments were your battle scars and it would be a long healing process. Fortunately, the two of you had gotten really good at being there for each other in the meantime. 

“No, Eddie,” you corrected with a heavy sigh. “We’re not together. We’re just–”

“Friends? Yeah, right,” your friend shook his head with an angry passion. “Don’t go bullshitting me here, kid.”

“I’m not-”

Eddie held up a hand to your face to silence your argument. “Listen,” he said. “You might not see it, but I do. All of us do, actually. The two of you have been practically joined at the hip these days.” He tilted his head toward Steve’s direction. The man of the hour was talking to Robin at the time, the two of them getting into another one of their half-hearted arguments over something you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“You can’t tell me there isn’t something there, babe,” Eddie’s tone now softened. “I see the way you look at him.”

Your lower lip became the punching bag for a barrage of anxious bites as his words echoed in your mind. I see the way you look at him. Was it possible you had feelings for Steve? You continued to watch him as he maneuvered his way through the party, Robin continuing to ramble on as she followed on his coattails. It was almost effortless how he moved, sending smiles to each of the kids as he passed by. They were genuine with their accompanying eye sparkle, something you knew after the hours of late night conversations. 

It was a side effect of Steve realizing he didn’t need to change who he was to be respected by others. Besides his adventures with the kids, he talked a lot about his childhood and what it was like growing up with parents who were more concerned about appearance than their child’s happiness. He shared with you once how he felt being a member of a family meant acting in the world’s longest lasting play. You always had to play the part of the perfect person, he had explained, hiding your imperfections and letting go of the important things everyone else thought were stupid. 

“Ya know,” Steve mentioned at one point, “I think my parents would care less if I came home or not when they’re in town. As long as I was making a name for myself that was…positive and they could compare to some other set of snobs. Not some nobody who makes a lousy four bucks an hour shelving tapes every day.”

It broke your heart to hear his story. “Steve,” you had tried to console. “You’re not a nobody.”

“Not to you, or Henderson,” he relented. “God, I think the kid would probably have a heart attack if I didn’t answer to his every beck and call. Damn kid thinks he’s entitled now.”

You didn’t miss the ghost of a smile that dimly lit up his gaze as he spoke about Dustin. That “damn kid” changed him for the better, you knew Steve was beyond grateful for that. If it wasn’t for Dustin– and Nancy breaking his heart– he could have just been another cog in the corporate machine with wandering eyes. Now he was a man of heart, who valued family no matter what, even if it wasn’t by blood. 

“Hey, Eds?” you asked, eyes still locked onto the back of Steve’s too-tight blue and white rugby shirt. “Think you could give me a hand with something this week?”

The dazzling smile you received in response was more than enough confirmation. “For you, kid? Always.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

“Eddie, no.”

“But it’s real music!” your best friend argued as he waved the cassette tape in the air rather aggressively. “If you’re going to do this, you may as well culture him with the good stuff while you’re at it.”

“I want him to like it.” You shook your head and plucked the tape from his grasp, setting it back down in its place in the box. “If he blows his eardrums out in the process, I think he’d have a hard time being able to enjoy the rest of it.” 

 The metalhead clutched at his chest dramatically, followed up with a slow flop against his beaten mattress. “You wound me,” he mumbled into the pillows. A second later, he popped back up and leaned over the edge of the mattress. He seemed intent on finding something and soon sat back up with another smaller box clutched in his hands. “Try some of these.”

Intrigued, you frowned and reached for the box. As you lifted the top off, you noticed two tightly packed rows of tapes. You used your fingers to pry one loose and lifted it into the light. A snort escaped you as you read the label. “Blondie?” you asked, tone clearly that of amusement. 

Eddie rolled his eyes and began his own search through the original box of tapes. 

Another laugh sounded from you as you continued to dig through the selection in your lap. “Okay, okay. You have to explain why you, Edward James Munson, have not one, but two ABBA tapes in your possession.” 

“Blame it on Buckley,” he mumbled back in a bitter response. “She showed up one day to show me what she thought was good music. Why people enjoy this shit nowadays is just depressing.”

“Then why do you still have this shit?”

The only answer you received was a bored shrug. “I let you come in here and use my stereo system and go through my music collection to let you make your present for your dream boy-”

“Steve is not my dream boy-”

“Ah bah bah,” Eddie cut you off. “Don’t interrupt the generous man, kid. I give you access to my castle to work on your project for free. It doesn’t mean you get the chance to interrogate me about my collection like some kind of FBI agent.” He flicked two fingers in your general direction. “Make your picks.”

Your eyes drifted back to the box in your lap, a small smile tugging at your lips as you searched. The idea of a mixtape seemed like a good idea at first, but now that you were faced with the difficult decision of what to include on said mixtape, your confidence faltered just a bit. You took a deep breath, eyes closing to help you better concentrate. What was it that you wanted this to say to Steve? 

If you had the opportunity to say anything to the boy you had already bared most of your soul to, what would you say? Your heart rate increased as you thought about the look on his face in your bedroom window, sneaking in to comfort you when you had a nightmare: soft hazel eyes and an even softer smile on lips that would press into your hairline absentmindedly. You would cling onto the boy for dear life, terrified to lose your connection to reality. 

Without even trying, Steve had become your rock– the anchor tethered you from straying too far with your deepest fears. You couldn’t do this without him and, deep down, you hoped he felt the same way about you. Suddenly, everything started to click into place and you knew what you wanted to say. 

You just hoped that you’d be able to find exactly what you were looking for.  

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

“You made it!” Robin exclaimed with a cheery smile. She was quick to envelope you into a tight hug. You had to hide the wince that threatened to be revealed when the hard plastic ornaments sewn into her christmas sweater dug into the fabric of your own top. “Are you ready for a good time?”

“That better not mean beer, Buckley,” you chided.

“‘Course not!” your friend beamed. You couldn’t tell if this was just her natural enthusiasm, or if she had already had a couple drinks too many. “We got something much more festive! Jonathan and Argyle made the eggnog!”

You blinked. With the two California boys in charge of the beverages, this would certainly be an interesting evening. “Jonathan and Argyle…made the eggnog?”

“Yep! It’s actually really good.” Robin held out her mug. “Try it! It’ll warm you up really fast!”

“I’m sure.” As you leant forward to take a small sniff, you were instantly greeted by the stench of way too much bourbon. You were taken aback by the dark-nailed hand of a certain metalhead reaching past you for the cup. 

“Well, if you won’t, I will,” he said, knocking back the remaining liquid down into his throat. “Damn, that’s good.”

“RIGHT?!”

“...okay, Robs,” you said as you reached for her arm. “Let’s get you back inside. Maybe find Nance.”

“She’s with Steve,” the short-haired girl slurred. “Talkin’ ‘bout something.” Robin gave a vague gesture toward the living room area, where Steve was currently resting against the doorframe talking to Nancy Wheeler. The two of them were laughing, although you noticed Nancy giving a few concerned looks in Robin's direction.

You couldn’t lie, there was a slight twinge of jealousy in your heart as you witnessed the two of them talking again. Logically, you knew they wouldn’t be getting back together. Nancy had moved on years ago–twice actually– and was finally in a stable relationship with herself. Determined to make a name for herself at Emerson, she took on her independence with pride and was loving her experience. She talked so much about the journalism program that Robin decided to apply and would be joining her the following school year as a communications major. 

You and Steve had a bet that it would only be a matter of time before they would eventually end up together. It was almost an arguable match made in heaven. Robin’s nerves combined with Nancy’s determination…there wouldn’t be anything the two couldn’t do. You just hoped that one day they would see it too. 

As the two of you approached them in the living room, you caught Steve giving you the brightest grin. He held out one of the mugs he had been carrying over to you. When you tried to send him a subtle decline, he merely shook his head. “Not spiked,” he called out over the loud Christmas music blasting through the room. “Brought my own stash since I know you don’t like alcohol.”

You gave him a soft smile as you accepted his offering, lifting the drink to your lips. It was smooth and creamy, with those spicy hints of cinnamon and nutmeg. It reminded you of Christmas from the very first sip. The fact that Steve had remembered about your alcohol aversion made you warmer from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. 

“Awww, aren’t they cute?!” you heard Robin whisper dramatically to Nancy. “I can’t wait until they see-”

“Isn’t it time for the secret Santa?” Nancy interrupted the jittery dirty blonde. 

Completely distracted from her previous statement, Robin nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” she exclaimed. “Can’t forget that! C’mon dinguses.”

As the gift exchange began, you couldn’t help but feel nervous as Steve lifted his gift out of the pile. You had tried to wrap it as neatly as you could, using paper you knew he hadn’t seen at your house before. The whole point of the game was for it to be a secret until the last possible second. How could you possibly eliminate that fun?

When it was your turn to go up, you picked up the package with your name typed– not written– on the card. Someone else seemed very adamant about keeping their identity a secret, too. As you moved back to your seat on the couch, your fingers anxiously fiddled with the neatly tied bow atop the small box. It was beautifully wrapped with blue and white paper, some of your favorite colors. Whoever this person was, they definitely knew you pretty well.

When Robin gave the go ahead, everyone took turns freeing the presents from their papery prisons. You couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped you. Tucked inside the box was a cassette with your name on it. As you flipped it over to read the description, a smile graced your lips. It was a collection of some of your favorite songs. There were small marks next to certain songs, which you didn’t understand. Maybe it was your Secret Santa’s favorite, too. 

Looking around the room, you tried to guess who could have gotten you the gift. You knew it wasn’t Eddie, as he had given Dustin one of his original dungeon master journals. It could have been Robin, but she was more enthused with Jonathan’s present of new patches for her denim jacket. You risked a glance over at Steve to gauge his reaction to his gift and your heart stopped in surprise.

He was staring directly at you.

Steve raised an eyebrow at you and tilted his head toward the front door. Can we talk? his eyes asked in a silent question. 

You nodded and immediately went into the hall to grab your coats, shoving the new tape into the garment’s pocket. As you walked outside onto the front porch, Steve didn’t waste any time with what he wanted to say. 

“It was you,” he questioned. “Wasn’t it? You’re my secret Santa.”

You nodded bashfully. “Look, I get that it’s nothing special, but I thought it could be something different.”

“I love it.” Steve took a few steps closer. “I just…I find it funny that even after all this time, we’re still on the same wavelength.” He pointed to your pocket. “Cyndi Lauper, David Bowie, Joan Jett…”

When you looked at him confused, he gave a small smile. “Those are all your favorites. You listen to them all the time when you’re stressed or you can’t sleep.”

“You’re my secret Santa…” it dawned on you slowly. 

Steve blinked. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t expect you to know something like that,” you admitted. With some hesitation, you reached into your coat pocket and held out the tape. “What are-”

“The marks?” he asked. “Oh, yeah, I uh, I was wondering if you were going to ask me about that.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “You uh, sometimes when you’re at work, you hum to yourself. They’re mostly the songs on the tape but, you know. Those in particular…well, I like to hear you sing them.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, eyes searching Steve’s. It was almost as though you were looking at him– truly looking at him– for the first time in your lives. There was something hidden behind his gaze. There was a sparkle in them, almost as if he was laughing about an inside joke only he knew. It was mixed with a flicker of something you hadn’t seen before. Nerves? Sadness? Adoration? 

Steve cleared his throat to break the silence. “And, uh, I wouldn’t mind being able to hear you sing them more.”

“So you made me a tape…to hear me sing karaoke?”

“Not…not exactly,” he stammered. “God, am I really not that obvious?”

Confusion struck you again and you tilted your head in silent question. What was he talking about? Now Steve seemed nervous– something you had never seen him be before in the years you had known him. Steve Harrington had confidence, he was cocky; he didn’t get nervous, especially not around you. “Steve, what are you-”

“I love you,” the three words blurted out of his mouth in such a hurry, you had to blink a few times to process the exclamation. “I love you and I’ve been in love with you for a while now. There isn’t anyone else that knows me like you do, who listens– and I mean truly listens– like you do. You don’t judge me, you don’t make me feel like the idiot I totally am.”

He paused for a moment to take both of your hands in his. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to act anymore. I can be myself around you and know that that’s the person I want to be for the rest of my life. You are the person I want to be around for as long as you’ll have me. I love you.”

With the way he was holding you, your body felt warmer than it would with any festive beverage. You weren’t imagining this, were you? Did Steve, the boy you watched from a distance for so long, just say he loved you? “You’re not- this isn’t-” you stammered. “Is this a dream?”

“No, sweetheart,” Steve whispered softly as he took a step closer to you. “It’s real.”

He cradled one of his hands under your chin, tilting his own face to be near your own. The look he gave you asked if this was okay, and somehow you managed the slightest of nods in response. When he slanted his lips over yours, you immediately began to melt into his embrace. You hadn’t dreamed of this moment before, but it still felt like a fairy tale. It was soft and gentle, everything you could have wanted. 

When you finally broke apart, a smile graced upon your lips. “In case it wasn’t completely obvious,” you said. “I love you, too.”

Steve grinned and pulled you in for another kiss. This one was a bit more heated, but it was just enough. To the two of you, nothing else mattered in that exact moment. All that mattered was that you and him were finally happy and you were happy together. 

“Well it’s about time!!” Robin’s voice called out, forcing the two of you to jump apart from each other. You had been so engrossed in the moment, the two of you hadn’t heard the front door open behind you. “Thought you’d never get together. Now can you guys hurry up and come back inside? It’s almost time to eat.” With a huff and a smile, she closed the door with a solid thud, causing the two of you to start laughing.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” you whispered.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he replied as he pulled you against him once more so you could walk hand-in-hand back to your family.

================

Author's Note: Merry Christmas Eve to my readers who celebrate the holiday. Can you believe we're almost to the end of Stevemas already?! It's been a crazy two weeks and I really hope you all have enjoyed the (basically) daily uploads. This was a really fun fic to write and I have to give a shoutout to @familyvideostevie for the inspiration after seeing the secret Santa prompt on their 12 days of christmas list. Make sure to check out their works because they're amazing!! I also wanted to do something a little different this time around to make my fics more interactive, so I hope you enjoyed listening to the actual mixtape you made for Steve while you read this story! :)

If you enjoyed this fic and want to see more like it on my blog, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, or reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's these other types of interactions that help to spread the word about my works. Not only that, but it helps me feel motivated to keep writing and posting content. If you're interested in getting updates on the final day of Stevemas or any of my other works, maybe consider giving my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I won't spam you too much with other amazing creators' works! :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove, @maddipoof

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Family Dinner (College!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Family Dinner (Rated T)

Pairing: College!Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k+ (I got carried away)

Warnings: A few brief innuendos and Steve being a flirt. Nothing too crazy!

Summary: Stevemas Day 7- A continuation of Take Me Home for Christmas, you and Steve landed in your hometown and you're already dreading the first meeting between him and your parents. When the family dinner finally rolls around, the two of you are forced to confront your feelings due to a surprising question from your younger cousin.

“Steve, you don’t have to do this,” you glanced up at your boyfriend with the widest of pleading eyes you could muster. “You don’t have a hotel, you can just fly back to Hawkins and I’ll meet you there in a few days like we planned-”

“Babe,” Steve cut you off with a small smile. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a few days.” He let go of his suitcase handle to hold both of your arms rather gently. ”Besides, your family is the reason you’re in my life, so how bad can it be?”

Just as you opened your mouth to answer, the shrill sound of your mother’s familiar tone as it called your full name scraped its way into your eardrums. You winced at the volume and tried your best to hide yourself against Steve’s form. “Oh god,” you muttered in a tone only he could hear. “It’s only been a minute and I already want to go. Can’t we just hop on another flight?”

“Think it’s a little too late for that,” your boyfriend muttered back, a fake smile already plastered against his lips. As he let go of your arms, he slipped a hand around your waist, pulling your back against his chest ever so gently. “Just smile and wave; it’ll be over soon.”

A sigh escaped your lips and you shook your head subtly in protest. Oh, poor Steve. Poor sweet, innocent, incredibly charming Steve. If you had known he was coming before the flight, you would have been able to give him much more than the two hour breakdown on your family’s quirks you had given him during the journey. 

“Oh, there you are!!” your mother tutted. “My favorite child, my pride and joy-“

“Mom. I’m your only child.” You felt Steve try to hold back a laugh against your back. 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be my favorite.” The dazzling smile your mother beamed at you soon became rather discomforting. You knew that look; it was the look of first impressions. A trick she had taught you years ago, your mother knew the way to charm anyone or anything. Every time the holidays rolled around, you swore this expression was superglued to her face. The fact that Steve was here didn’t help matters much, either. 

Steve was new. Steve wasn’t like your other friends you had brought with you for the holidays. Considering you hadn’t even mentioned him to her, it was only natural your mother would be curious who this young man is with her child. 

“You must be Steve,” she said once she made eye contact. “We spoke on the phone.”

Your boyfriend smiled courteously before he reached out his free hand for her to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he spoke with an air of confidence, a tone he reserved for some of your stricter professors or advisors. It brought a smile to your face. Steve was trying to impress your parents. That had to mean something, right?

It was a minute before your father came to stand by your mother’s side. “We have get a move on if we want to beat the rush hour. It was already starting to back up when we were pulling into the parking lot.” When turned his head, you noticed the bulky black frame of his portable phone. “No, Jerry. We have to act now or else we’ll lose the sale.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Dad,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Steve subtly squeezed your hip with his hand before using his thumb to rub circles against the fabric of your shirt. Be calm, it said. You’re not alone with this anymore. I’m right here. 

“Merry Christmas, sir,” his voice came to your aid. “I’m Steve Harrington, I go to school with your-“

“Oh, right.” Your father adjusted the phone and reached a hand to shake Steve’s. “You’re the young man staying with us. Hope you were warned. The holidays around here…are known to be a bit…memorable.”

A light-hearted chuckle sounded from Steve’s throat. It was almost natural, as though it was something he was used to. Come to think of it, he probably was. Steve had told you about the Christmases of old: ones with fancy parties his parents would host for the snoots of hometown Hawkins. Steve knew how to play the part, almost as well as your parents. “So I’ve heard, sir.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

After driving back to the house, your mother had dragged your father out to the grocery store to pick up some extra ingredients for your great-grandma Agnes’ homemade stuffing. Your father fulfilled his societal obligation to frown upon the two of you being alone together in your room. You had playfully indulged him, arguing how you and Steve were both well into your twenties and were responsible adults. Besides, the spare guest bedroom was meant to be given to Aunt Ruth when her plane arrived the following morning. Steve couldn’t be expected to get a hotel room this close to the holiday! Unaware of what was actually happening, Steve had kindly offered to take the floor or the couch in order to respect everyone’s wishes. You wanted to kiss him senseless right then and there for his beautiful nature…maybe later. 

To be honest, the two of you were thankful for the reprieve. The entire ride to the house was full of questions, mostly directed toward you. How was school? Did you still like your major? How did you two meet? You had expected more intrusive questions, but you supposed the rest would come at the family dinner. 

Steve let out a low whistle as he set down yours and his luggage on the floor. He glanced around the pale colored walls and picture frames, a crooked smile plastered against his face. He was much more relaxed now that you were alone. This was the first time he would have a chance to learn more about your past. Steve certainly wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Your childhood bedroom wasn’t much, especially since it was mostly cleared out to fill your dorm, but it still told a story; a beautiful story of the person Steve had come to fall in love with so easily in such a short time. 

Photos of you and family were lined against the walls, mostly of you and your parents. Steve knew you had had a difficult relationship with your extended family— including your own parents. While you had been sure they meant well, you had always felt like the outcast, the one who never truly measured up to everyone’s expectations of you. As he looked at each picture, Steve felt his heart sink at the thought of a smaller you faking a smile for a picture before racing back to whatever book or song you were distracted with before. 

He wished your younger self had the smile he had tucked away in his wallet, a Polaroid he had swiped from Robin after the night he asked you out. You were laughing at something he had said. Granted, he was probably being incredibly pathetic, but you… you were really happy. Steve remembered how that day he decided your laugh was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, and he would do whatever it took to keep hearing it every day for the rest of his life. 

Each frame was hung in a particular pattern. It was clear to Steve that someone had taken great care to ensure perfection. That someone was most likely you, too. He had seen your shared dorm with Robin. While the adorable babbling musician’s side of the room was messy, yours was always kept tidy. He could hardly remember a time he’d seen something on the floor. Well, aside from that one time… Steve’s lips quirked into a smirk at the memory. 

“Nice room,” he commented, raising an index finger toward a peeling Care Bears poster. “Cute.”

He just about laughed at the way your eyes widened and you lunged to be in his field of vision. “That’s uh,” you stammered. “That’s really old.” 

Steve nodded slowly, a grin stretched across his features. “Sure it is, sweetheart,” he mused, taking a step forward to pull you back into his chest. He pressed a few kisses against your hairline. “I still think it’s adorable. Seeing you with all your little stuffed bears…”

“Stop itttt,” you whined, hiding your face deeper in his sweater. 

Steve in fact could not stop. “I bet you had like ten or twelve of ‘em and that you were even more adorable than you are now.”

Another groan escaped you as you attempted to get absorbed into his much taller frame. You could hear his heart thudding against his chest in a slow rhythm. Bum bum, bum bum, bum bum. Just hearing his heartbeat, feeling him close by, helped you to relax. It was silly, but you were more at home with Steve than you were in your childhood bedroom. 

“Can we take a nap?” your voice came out muffled from within the cotton material. After a multi-hour-long plane ride and a stressful first meeting, there was nothing you wanted more than to curl up with your boyfriend and become dead to the world. Unbeknownst to everyone else, Steve was a cuddler at night. Less of a guilty pleasure than a need, you secretly believed being held in his arms was the cure-all to everything. 

As usual, Steve was more than willing to accommodate your request. A grin stretched across his face and he wrapped his arms around your waist. “When’s the dinner?” he asked with a gentle kiss pressed to your temple. 

“Not for hours and hours,” you mumbled, voice thick with the need to sleep. Your fingers gripped into the material as you tried to physically phase yourself into your boyfriend. 

Steve’s chest expanded with a heavy sigh and he nodded. “Alright,” he agreed. “As long as your folks are alright with seeing us in the same bed. Don’t want to spend Christmas in the emergency room, babe.”

“They’ve seen worse.”

“...something you need to tell me about, sweetheart?” 

“Hm?” Your drowsy state didn’t help you recognize what you had shared with the boy before you. When he guided your head back gently to capture your gaze with his own, your brow wrinkled in confusion. Why was he looking at you like that? He looked worried, almost afraid even. Almost like he was afraid you were…

“OH!” you suddenly exclaimed. “Oh, oh, god no! No, it wasn’t me! It was my, uh, it was my cousin and his girlfriend. They had gotten a little too deep into the eggnog and decided my parent’s room would be a great spot for, uh, yeah.”

Steve blinked. “Well, that’s just stupid.” 

“Eggnog, Steve,” your tone was adamant. “Heavily spiked eggnog.”

“So stay away from the eggnog, then. Noted- oof.” The force of yours and Steve’s bodies made a soft thud as you caused the two of you to fall down onto the mattress. Your boyfriend gave a soft huff into the pillow he was now face down on. “Hey, what was that for?!”

“Shhh,” you said with a hum. “Sleep time, pretty boy.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

A few hours later, you woke up feeling much more refreshed and warm next to the boy you loved. Your lips twitched up into a fond smile as you took in the sight beside you. Steve was still passed out, muted snores escaping him every so often. He looked incredibly peaceful with the slight smile that seemed plastered to his face. A few stray hairs fell into his line of sight and you fought the urge to push them out of the way in fear of accidentally waking him up. 

As you watched him sleep just a bit longer, a warmth spread throughout your body. Butterflies fluttered about in your stomach and you began to wonder how you ended up in this situation. It almost seemed like something that could be written as one of those store-end-cap cheesy romance novels. Person A meets Person B, they fall in love, Person A surprises Person B on a plane on the way to meet Person B’s parents for Christmas. 

“Take a picture,” Steve croaked out in a hoarse sleep drunk tone, “it’ll last longer.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, already feeling the red hot flush as it made its ascent up your neck. “You know what they say, though. When you find good art, you take the time to appreciate it.”

“I’ve also heard that flattery gets you everywhere. How long did we sleep?”

You turned your head to glance over at the analog alarm clock perched on your old nightstand. It was almost six o’clock, meaning you had about…forty-five minutes to get ready for the most chaotic meal of your year. “A few hours,” you replied with a sigh. 

A swear escaped Steve’s lips. “We’re going to be late for dinner.”

“Nooo!” you playfully groaned as you flopped into him. You snuggled your face into his sweater again, hands sliding up his back underneath it. “We could just hide up here. ‘Sneak downstairs later to pick at some of the leftovers. Mom always ends up makin’ too much, anyway.”

“As tempting as it sounds, sweetheart,” Steve replied. “I want to make a good impression on your family. Something tells me the two of us staying up in your room all night might do just the opposite.”

You tried to reply by snuggling closer, but Steve was quicker. He scooted his way to the edge of the bed, hands pushing you gently back onto the mattress. With a stretch, he yawned and bent over to pick up the suitcase he packed. He tossed it haphazardly beside you and quickly unzipped it, pulling out the two dress shirts laid on top. The first shirt was a deep maroon with black buttons with thin horizontal white lines, one of your favorites on him. The other was a navy and grey checkered shirt you had only Steve wear for special occasions. Knowing that he selected it to bring and wear for your parents only made the warmth within you spread.

“Which one?” he asked you.

Without any hesitation, you sat up and raised an index finger toward the red shirt. “That one.”

Steve nodded at your choice, setting the other shirt back into the suitcase. He reached down to the hem of his sweater and began to lift it up off his form. You couldn’t help the stare that locked onto the skin which was slowly being revealed. When he noticed, Steve sent a wink your way. “Like what you see, babe?”

Just as you were about to answer, a barrage of knocks descended upon your door. “Dinner’s in thirty minutes!” your father’s voice boomed behind the wood. “Your mother needs help with the place settings and wrangling the kids into the dining room.”

You hung your head in exaggerated exasperation, eyes flickering back to Steve. He was attempting to smother a laugh at your expression. “Sure thing, Dad,” you called back. “Just need a minute.”

When you and Steve finally made your way downstairs, it looked as though a tornado had torn through the hallway. Backpacks, jackets, and diaper bags littered the floors and coat hangers. Several pairs of shoes were left as a heap in favor of sliding on the hardwood floors with socks. You managed to avoid having a head-on collision with your nine-year-old cousin, Alexandra, as she slid by. 

Steve, on the other hand, was not as lucky. 

“Oof,” your boyfriend exclaimed as he quickly reached down to secure the girl who had collided into him. “Are you okay?”

Your cousin merely blinked. “You’re new,” she said flatly. “Who are you?”

“Alex-” you started. 

“No, no. It’s alright, babe. I got this.” Steve waved at you with a small smile. He glanced down at the young girl before him. “I’m your cousin’s boyfriend.”

Alexandra crossed her arms and cocked a hip, eyes locked onto yours with a raised eyebrow. “You,” she said, “have a boyfriend?”

You shifted your weight side to side, left hand coming up to rub against your right arm. Sure, you knew the second you saw Steve on the plane that things were going to be even more eventful at this year’s Christmas dinner. The last thing you expected, though, was for your cousin to be the first to question your new relationship. Over the years, she had been less than supportive of your dating life, once she learned what dating was about. Every single date you had needed to pass Alex’s test – they had to be worthy enough.

Lucky for you, Steve was quick to jump to your defense. “Sure does,” he replied as he sidled over to you and wrapped an arm around your waist. A gentle press of his lips to your temple was enough for you to melt against his frame. “Somehow I managed to snag a date with this one over the semester.”

“So you go to the same school?” Alexandra questioned.  

Steve nodded and gave a gentle squeeze against your hip. “Her roommate is my best friend. Well, second best friend, if you ask this kid- Dustin Henderson. He’s staked some claim to the title, which I admit is pretty weird, but he’s a pretty cool kid-”

“Steve.” You raised a hand to place atop the arm he still had wrapped around you. When he turned his head to look at you, you could see the warmth and love in his eyes. Steve hardly ever rambled. It was a behavior reserved for moments when he was stressed or nervous. Apparently Alex had that effect on everyone she stared down. You reached up to brush his hair back in an attempt to calm him down. He immediately turned into putty in your hands, eyes closed briefly and a soft hum sounding from his throat. 

“Do you love each other?” Alexandra’s voice shattered through the magic of the moment, eyes trained solely on Steve. It caused the older boy to waver, eyes flickering between you and the small girl who challenged his existence. 

Your own breath caught in your throat. The two of you had hardly reached the title stage of your relationship. Sure, you admired the boy who had stolen your heart. You’d probably even go as far as to say you were in love with everything he did. But the question became: did he feel the same? It wasn’t something you wanted to push him into, especially not by means of a nine-year-old. What if this scared him off? What if he broke up with you right then and there, before Christmas? What if-

“‘Course we do,” Steve responded before placing a kiss on your cheek. “Your cousin is my person. And I think we all need a person, even you little miss...”

“Alexandra,” your cousin said as she held out her hand. “But you can call me Alex.”

Steve leaned down to shake her hand firmly. “Pleasure to meet you, Alex,” he said. “My name’s Steve.”

“Welcome to the family, Steve.”

Your boyfriend smiled and glanced back at you. His face was the epitome of happiness in that exact moment. Even without being able to see it, you knew that your own expression mirrored his emotions. This Christmas, the two of you had each other. Despite the rest of the chaos which ensued throughout the remainder of the evening, including your grandmother’s insistence on you retelling how the two of you met, it was one of the best dinners of your life. 

“Hey, uh, Steve,” you stuttered out when you had led him into a quiet corner of the house. You had hoped to speak to him sooner, but given the commotion of multiple little kids and gossiping family members, it proved to be more of a challenge than you anticipated. 

“Yeah?” he asked, concern etched upon his features. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! No, uh, yeah, everything’s fine!” you replied, hands reaching for his own. “I just wanted you to know that, uh, you’re mine, too.”

Steve knit his eyebrows together. “What?”

“My person, I mean. I, uh, I think of you as my person, too.”

A soft ‘oh’ left Steve’s lips as he let his hands drop down to your sides. His thumbs rubbed circles above the fabric of your shirt and he stepped closer. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. It wasn’t long or messy, just a silent promise of many Christmas dinners and plane rides to come. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered against your mouth.

You grinned as you pulled him in for another soft kiss. “Merry Christmas, Steve.” 

==============

Author's Note: I couldn't resist. After writing the first part, I needed to write the second part where Steve met your family. I'm a serious sucker for Hallmark movie trope stories and I feel Steve is just the best character to use for these situations. This fic is significantly longer than most of the others in this event, but we can consider this a bit of a consolation for the missed day on the 17th. College AU Steve is actually pretty fun to write for...maybe we should do a part 3 where we travel back to Hawkins. What does everyone think?

If you enjoyed this story, please make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, or reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's interactions like these that not only help spread the word about my work, but give me the motivation to keep producing content like this for you all! For more updates on Stevemas and to make sure you never miss a post, maybe consider following my blog! I promise I won't spam with anything other than amazing authors' works :)

Until next time, my little sparks! <3

Taglist; @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Last Christmas (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Last Christmas (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k+ (get yer cocoa, everyone!)

Warnings: Brief moderate language, Steve Harrington being an idiot (as usual, but we love him anyway), friends-to-lovers (if that's a warning)

Summary: Co-written with @mischief_and_mercy on AO3 for Day 8 of Stevemas. Takes place at the end of Stranger Things 2 and inspired by the infamous titular song. You and Steve have been friends for years. You've seen him change and go from relationship to relationship, wishing that one day he might feel the same as you do. When Steve tries to hatch a plan with you to get Nancy back, tensions run high. Will your friendship be over?

It was no secret Steve Harrington struggled with luck. It was even clearer that he had lost his heart to a very prominent figure who also went to Hawkins High: Nancy Wheeler. Despite being friend-zoned too many times to count, you still harbored feelings for the hazel-eyed King Steve. You knew it was stupid—you should know better than to fall for someone who already gave his heart to someone else. 

Everyone saw the way Steve looked at Nancy. Even now, as you both sat in his bedroom, you knew his only thought was of walking into the Snow Ball to see her. He wanted to try to speak with her, to reconcile the broken relationship between the two of them. 

“What would I even-” the boy started as he paced around his room. “I mean, what could I even say to her? She’s…different now, ya know?”

“Yeah,” you said with a nod in agreement, “but so are you.”

Steve groaned, hands reaching up to cover and slide down his face. “Why does this have to be so damn complicated?”

“To quote the great Phil Collins-”

“NO!” He was quick to cut you off. “Don’t you start.”

In all the years he’s known you, Steve should have realized this was a losing battle. “You can’t hurry love,” you crooned in a terribly offkey melody. “No, you just have to wait. Love doesn’t come easy, it’s a game of give and take.”

“You’re such a nerd,” he groaned, head falling backwards in frustration. “Besides, wasn’t that song done by the Supremes like a million years ago?”

“And you have the audacity to call me a nerd.”

Steve scrunched his nose, causing a series of wrinkles to appear across his face. “Blame it on my dad,” he argued. “Used to blast that shit everywhere we went. We’re getting off topic here, though. How can I uncomplicate this?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want Steve to be happy. In fact, it was quite the opposite; there was nothing you wanted more for him. The two of you had known each other for years and you knew the struggles he had going on at home. More than anything, Steve deserved to find someone who would love him unconditionally.

But…that person wasn’t Nancy. As much as they tried, you can’t force two puzzle pieces together that don’t fit. It only damages the structure of one or both puzzle pieces. And in this situation, the broken puzzle piece was Steve. Nancy had remained intact, perfectly fine to be without Steve. Steve, on the other hand, could barely function without her. As much as you hated it, he had convinced himself that Nancy was the one for him, and as his best friend, you had to do what you could to support him.

“What if you gave her a gift?” you suggested. “Something…nice, that’ll help her remember you. Maybe like a locket?”

Steve paused mid step and tilted his head side to side, as though he was pondering your suggestion. 

Last Christmas I gave you my heart

But the very next day you gave it away

“Maybe I should ditch,” he remarked, mostly to himself. “Maybe I’ll just leave Dustin, run back into the car, and come back here.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Steven Joseph Harrington, I swear to God if you have stressed me out for nothing, I am going to suffocate you with your own damn pillow.”

“Stressed you out?!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, it stressed me out! You are absolutely incapable of making a decision and not completely wimping out on that same decision! Grow some balls!”

The dark-haired boy before you wrinkled his nose. “You know,” he started, “we would be having a completely different conversation right now if this was your problem. If you wanted to get back with Frankie Wallace– God knows why you’d want to– you’d be stressing over every detail.” 

“Well, good thing for you I don’t want to go out with Frankie Wallace,” you said evenly as you rested your head on your hand. The unspoken words remained resting on your tongue, heavy and dark. I want to go out with you.

“Yeah, see, that’s your problem. You need to get back out there again,” Steve encouraged, entirely oblivious to your distant longing stares. “Show the little shitbag what he’s missing.”

“That’s gross, Steve. Last time you encouraged me to do that, he stuck his tongue down my throat and I had to sucker punch him in his. Would you like to try that again? Wanna relive another trip to the principal?” 

You watched as your best friend’s jaw clenched and un-clenched in a silent rhythm. He flexed his fingers into a fist. “He did that to you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Why would that matter to him? Was he jealous? As wrong as it was, you almost wished he had some feeling comparable to yours when he looked at Nancy. But you knew it would never happen. Try as hard as you might, you would never truly be Steve’s…person. He would never look at you the way he saw Nancy. To Steve, you would always be his little friend with a face full of freckles and braces, the one who was more interested in homework than the important social gatherings of the school year. 

After the Snow Ball came and went, with Steve’s plan hopefully going off without a hitch, life would go back to normal. You’d pass each other by in the halls, smile on occasion when he’d visit your locker. 

“Yeah, Steve. That’s what happens when you pick the wrong guy.” 

Once bitten and twice shy

I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye

Tell me baby, do you recognize me?

Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me

You knew that Steve remembered what it was like to attract the wrong girl. But… he didn’t know what it was like to look at your best friend, every day, knowing that there would be no one else that could measure up to who you wanted. Despite the absentee parents, Steve had always known how to treat his partners. He would tell you about his dates, how he’d always try to pull out all the stops. You knew his moves, his quirks…those sly tactics he thought were smooth that you had convinced him were borderline sketchy, even if he didn’t mean it to be. If anything, being alone most of his life made him gentle and caring. 

Steve told you about his dream once, when he and Nancy first started dating. He wanted this great big Hawkins family that would have all the love he never received growing up. It shattered your heart into a thousand pieces to hear, but it also made you all the more protective of him. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t the future Nancy would want. She was a girl with big ambitions, who wanted to do more than stay in a town as small as Hawkins. You knew that Steve would support her either way, even if it meant sacrificing what he wanted most, but it didn’t seem fair. Your best friend didn’t deserve to have his heart broken; not by Nancy Wheeler or anyone else. 

“You never…” Steve cleared his throat. “You never told me that.”

“That’s because you were a little…” Too preoccupied with sucking your girlfriend’s face off. “...busy.”

“You can still tell me things!” he exclaimed. The guilt swirled in his eyes, immediately hitting you right in the chest with your own pang of guilt. You probably should have told him when it happened. It would have saved you long nights of avoiding him to cry in your bedroom listening to Bowie and hating how stupid you were. Maybe it would have helped your pride to have him knock some sense into the creep. Although, you knew he would just be picking another fight he was destined to lose.

“I didn’t want to bother you.” I didn’t want to make you feel bad for me while you were happy with your own girlfriend.

Steve whispered your name quietly as he sat on the bed next to you. “No matter how busy I am with a girlfriend, with my friends, there will always be time for you.” He reached over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. “You’re my best friend. It’s part of my responsibilities to protect you from douchebags like Wallace. Not to mention I’d be lost without you.”

You shifted uncomfortably on the comforter, fingers smoothing the material as you refused to meet your best friend’s gaze. How could he say that to you? Your heart thudded against your chest like a rubber ball against a brick exterior. 

“Then why won’t you notice me?” you blurted out, your face burning as your mind registered what had just slipped out of your mouth. “Why do you always go to Nancy when clearly, the both of you can’t work out?!”

Steve recoiled from his position, his expression mimicking that of someone who had been slapped. Burning rage filled your heart, but not at him—never by him. It was at yourself, for ruining the relationship and the gentle peace the both of you had together. Your feelings had always toed the line between friendship and something more with Steve, but you never truly dared to make the leap and cross it. Teasing remarks, gentle touches that lingered just a little too long…yet you didn’t want to take the ultimate risk of revealing your feelings and losing Steve in the process. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as you gathered your belongings as quickly as possible with tears building up against your lash line. “I shouldn’t have said that, it was wrong of me and not my place at all.”

A hand encircled your wrist, one that most definitely was not your own. Your gaze flicked from the ground to Steve’s chest, unable to look him in the eyes directly. How could you? You had basically ruined your friendship in one fell swoop. Now you know what a fool you’ve been.

You cleared your throat, still staring at the floor. To hell with it all. You’ve said this much already, what more could happen from you pouring out your heart?

“I’ve liked you for a while, Steve.” you stated quietly, still staring at your sock-covered toes. “I… I think I realized last Christmas. But… When I asked if we were going to spend Christmas together like usual, you preferred to spend it with Nancy. I… I lost my heart that day, Steve. I lost it to you.”

“I-” Steve started as his hand tightened around your wrist. “I didn’t know-”

“How could you, Steve?” you asked bitterly. Considering the rhetorical question, you continued on your outpouring of feelings. “You were too invested with Nancy to see what it was doing to me. You only have eyes for one girl at a time. So when Nancy entered the picture… I was lost from you, Steve.” Your voice broke on your last sentence, “I was lost from you, Steve, and I still am.”

“But you’re right here,” he argued. “I’m right here. Everything’s okay now. I mean, yeah, Hawkins went to shit again, but we’re still alive. We’re still-”

“Just because I am physically here, Steve, doesn’t mean that I don’t feel lost from you! When’s the last time you’ve asked about my day, or about one of my tests, or offered to help me study for one of those tests, or, hell, did you even bother to call me back when I broke up with Frankie?”

“I guess, I guess I, uh,” Steve ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. You could tell he was struggling to search through his memory, holding onto a glimmer of hope he could find a reason. But the truth was, he couldn’t and he never would.

“Forgot,” you huffed in frustration. “You forgot. Again. Because Nancy is the only thing that occupies your brain anymore.”

“That’s not true!!”

“Then what the hell is the truth, then, Steve?! Tell me the damn truth!”

A blank look overtook your best friend’s face as you grew silent after your outburst. You hadn’t meant to lash out at him like you did. It was a therapeutic feeling, though. After watching from the sidelines for so long, having that chance to really tell Steve how you really felt was…freeing. After a moment, you gave up on waiting for an answer. It didn’t really matter what he had to say. You said your piece and now you needed to move on before it was far too late, not only for your friendship – but for yourself. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, you bit your lower lip and grabbed your backpack back up from off the floor. Steve barely registered your movements, only coming back to the real world just before you started down the stairs. You heard his voice call out your name as you walked out the front door, but you had to ignore it. This Christmas, you needed to move on. You needed to let go of Steve Harrington, even if it hurt like hell.  

= = = = = = = = = = =

You hadn’t spoken to Steve for the rest of that day. When he called later that evening, you let it go to voicemail. At school, you ignored him outside of classes, being quick to spot some random “friend” of yours that you hardly knew. You spent most of the day after helping your younger sister get ready for the snow ball, no matter how much she argued that having her older sibling help was practically a dramatic attempt for social suicide.

Well, at least she wasn’t going to the Snow Ball in what she thought was the epitome of fashion (which it was most definitely not). Resisting the urge to ruffle her hair, you all but shoved her out the door to the car. Why put all of your hard work to waste and let her be late for the event?

The last thing on your mind was if you would cross paths with Steve in the parking lot. Given everything that had gone on since your last conversation, it wasn’t as if he was at the forefront of your thoughts. At this point, your main focus was on making sure your little sister had the best Snow Ball ever, even if it meant you needed to sit and monitor a punch bowl for three hours.

After placing the keys in the ignition, you drove to the biggest event your middle school sister could ever dream to have. As you entered the parking lot of Hawkins Middle School, you could already tell that no expense had been spared with the event planning committee’s strenuous budget. Balloons and streamers littered the walls in a variety of pale winter colors. You were almost glad that you had opted to dress you and your sister in darker tones, as it would help you stand out against the backdrops.

Once parked, your sister couldn’t wait to get out of the car. She made a beeline for the sign-in sheet and was quick to start catching up with her new friend, Max. After you signed yourself in, you couldn’t help but look around for Dustin. You had half expected him to be here by now, but there was no sign of the curly haired genius child.  

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes

I'm hiding from you and your soul of ice

Despite your vehement wishes for Steve not to show up, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when you didn’t see him walk through the doors. You wanted him not to show up, it’s what you had hoped for all along… Right? But the heavy feeling in your chest and the spiraling thoughts inside of your head said otherwise. You tried to distract yourself with ever-so-important punch monitor duties, dragging the ladle through the liquid to create ripples within the bowl. 

About an hour into your self-made prison, you heard the sound of a throat clearing in front of you. Oh. Oh no. As you glanced up, you locked eyes with the boy you had spent the last few days trying to avoid. Steve wasn’t dressed up, not really. He had on his favorite red sweater and a pair of Levi’s. Even with the curious look of concern etched into his features, he still looked incredibly Steve-like. 

My God, I thought you were someone to rely on

Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on

Now that feeling in your chest blossomed into something incredibly unwanted that would make you forgive Steve in the span of a fraction of a second. This time, it was familiar. It was the same feeling that made you hold onto the thought of him finally dating you for oh so long.

“Hey,” he stuttered. “Can I, uh, have some punch, please?”

“Pretty sure it’s just for the kids,” you couldn’t help the sharpness to your tone.

“I could make sure it’s not spiked?” he offered weakly. The puppy eyes he gave you were enough to make you want to put your hands over your face, if not just to resist the temptation of forgiving him oh-so-quickly. You knew it would hurt even more if you let him back into your heart. So why were you longing to pour some punch in a glass in a peace-making gesture?

Deep down, you knew why. 

It was because it was Steve, the boy you had known since the two of you could crawl (albeit not very well on his part). This was the guy who spent every minute of summer break in your backyard, talking for hours about the things he wanted to do when he could finally get away from his home – to finally be free. This was Steve, your best friend, who knew your favorite ice cream flavor and your favorite movies. It wouldn’t matter how many times he broke your heart, because he would always be there, in the back of your mind and your most important memories.

“That’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, “that’s why people like me are on the payroll, I’m afraid. This punch has already passed inspection. Although, I’m sure Nance might need some help at table seven.”

“I don’t want to help Nancy,” Steve explained as a bite of frustration crept into his tone. “I want to focus on you.”

Your words rang back to you in what you had spit at him during your fight. Nancy is the only thing that occupies your brain anymore. You hated that he still held onto that. Despite the truth to those words you had said, regret slithered around your heart and crushed it in a vice-like grip. Was there truly any more hope towards a relationship between you and Steve?

“Then why do I find that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’ve messed up,” Steve said honestly. “I’ve messed up, but I really, really want to be able to make it up to you. Please, let me make this up to you.” 

A sigh escaped your lips and your gaze traveled back down to the punch bowl before you. It would be an internal battle, this decision. But really, what else did you have to lose? He had already shattered your heart before. What’s one more time? “And how do you expect to do that, Harrington?”

His hand dipped into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box, which was horribly wrapped. The edges of your lips twitched in an attempt to silence your laughter at how poor his wrapping job truly was.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“A present… for you. I just… I thought you should have it, y’know, in case you won’t let me do anything for Christmas. As awful as it sounds, I figured you’d actually take the present in public rather than in private… I know you hate me. I’ve been an awful friend.”

Hate. For some reason, that word just bothered you. Did you really hate Steve? After everything the two of you had been through as kids, would this really be the end of your friendship? 

Swallowing hard, you reached your hand out wordlessly for the gift. “For the record,” you mused as you picked at the paper, “I don’t hate you. I’m just…I guess I don’t know how to feel. I said some things and you…well, you didn’t. I don’t know where that leaves us now.” 

“I… I don’t really know where that leaves us either,” Steve said quietly. “But what I do know is I don’t want to lose you.”

Without another word, you started to rip at the wrapping paper. After removing its disguise, you discovered it was a small silver box. You frowned up at Steve in confusion as you lifted the lid off of the top. What you saw surprised you even more. Placed on a bed of crushed purple velvet sat a silver letter “S”.

“You decided to get me something with your initial?” you asked, unamused.

“It’s not- It’s not to mark you as mine or stupid shit like that!” Steve spit out. “I uh… I just uh…” He somehow managed to pull himself together enough to say, “I want to be yours. I want to gift you flowers and make you breakfast and point at random stars in the night sky and act like I know the story behind constellations I still can’t see. And most of all… I want to remind you that you are always going to take priority. I don’t want anyone else.”

“But- but what about Nancy?” you asked, wide eyes locked onto his own soft gaze.

“It’s not about Nancy anymore,” he replied. “To be honest with you, I don’t think it ever really was. See, when Nance…when she left me, I think I just– well, I think I felt pretty stupid. Like maybe, maybe there was something wrong with me. I was a jerk these last few years. No, no, I was more than a jerk. I was a real dick. And I guess…” He hesitated before he continued. “I guess I was afraid if I even tried to find someone else, I’d just screw it up like I normally do.”

You frowned. “You don’t screw things up, Steve.”

“No, I did,” he argued. “I really, really did.”

“You didn’t-” you started again.

“If I didn’t screw things up, then why didn’t I have the guts to tell you I loved you six years ago?”

“Because I didn’t have the guts to tell you that I loved you either.”

The two of you stood in silence for several minutes, eyes flickering around the room to find something– anything– to talk about and break the spell. Something had changed between the two of you now and there was definitely no going back. While part of you wanted to scream of happiness from Steve’s confession, another part of you was scared. What if you tried and it messed everything up even more? What if you lost Steve entirely?

As if he sensed your unease, Steve took a few steps around the side of the table. His hand found your own as he laced his fingers with yours. The other hand went to your cheek, cradling your face gently. His eyes searched yours as he leaned closer, his cologne sweeping through your senses and preventing smells other than him from making their way to you. Lips grazed yours as both your eyes shuttered closed, bodies leaning into one another. 

Finally, finally you were kissing Steve Harrington…and he was kissing you back.

Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.

------------ Authors' Note:

frostandflames- Well that's a wrap on day 8 of my Stevemas event. I just want to say thank you to mischief_and_mercy for helping me out and being willing to collaborate with me on today’s fic. This story was actually their idea, so make sure to give them some support and check out their stuff over on AO3! They write for a variety of characters, including the gang from Stranger Things and MCU.

If you liked this story and want to see more collabs like this on either of our profiles, make sure to comment, tag your friends, and reblog. Likes are appreciated, but it's the other types on interactions that help spread the word about our work and motivate our brain cells to keep working together.

AND if you want updates on the rest of Stevemas, maybe consider giving my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I won't spam your dash outside of sharing the works of other amazing writers and creators on this hellsite.

Until next time, my little sparks! <3

mischief_and_mercy: Hey guys! I hope y'all enjoy the fic! Give all the love to El for coming up with the idea and helping us along (no matter what she says about me…). She's put so much hard work into this, so give her all the love you can spare <3 please leave a comment or a reblog (or both ;D)! Happy Holidays lovelies!

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Of Sweets & Sweaters (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Of Sweets & Sweaters (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Brief language and suggestive comment made by Steve, nothing too crazy.

Summary: Stevemas Day 5- A few months after the Great Hawkins 'Quake, Robin decides to throw a little holiday celebration for the party and the older kids. However, Steve isn't too happy with the dress code. Is there anything you can do to convince him otherwise?

“Hey, babe?” Steve’s voice called out from your shared bedroom.You had to bite back the smile that threatened to stretch its way across your face at his tone of voice. It was fairly obvious what his whining could be about. What was so wrong about having a little fun in the process?

“Yes, honey?” you replied in the sweetest tone you could muster. 

“You love me, right?”

You couldn’t help it; a small snort escaped. “Of course I love you. Why would you ask that?”

“Because if you loved me,” your boyfriend’s voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen, “you wouldn’t be forcing me to wear this absolute and utter monstrosity.”

He stepped into the room wearing the brightest red sweater you had ever seen in your life. Covered in pom-poms and tinsel, Steve looked as though he had stepped right out of an offensive Christmas card. To top it all off, there was very exaggerated Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer stitched into the front of the sweater.

You gave a low whistle. “Damn, babe,” you mused. “And here I thought it looked good on the mannequin. This is so much better. I think red really is your color.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Well then, where’s yours? I wouldn’t want you to miss out on sharing this experience with me.” 

You smiled and held up your hands, which were currently covered in dough. There was a dusting of flour all over your clothes, making you look as though you had spent plenty of time in the fresh snow from the previous evening. For the last few hours, you had been slaving over a hot oven putting together the fixings for some of your friends’ favorite holiday desserts. 

Dustin loved brownies, especially when you folded pieces of Three Musketeers bars into the batter. Eleven had found herself becoming partial to your peanut butter blossoms, although it’s most likely because Mike introduced her to the best part: the Hershey’s kiss. There were cookies for Max and Lucas, who preferred to have their snacks on the go. Nancy always preferred the elegant classics, so you went with a chocolate silk pie, which you knew she would love to share with your queen of sweets: Robin. For Eddie, you made your spiked eggnog meltaways, which you knew for a fact Jonathan always stole a few bites of when no one else was looking. 

“My god, it looks like a bakery exploded in here,” Steve remarked, walking over to the counter to swipe some cream cheese frosting that you made for Argyle and Will’s pineapple-banana hummingbird cupcakes. 

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away after he stuck the dollop in his mouth. You tried your best to shoo him back from your workstation. “You have your own desserts coming. I’ve been baking for four days now. Wait your turn, mister.”

“Desserts, as in plural, hm?” Your boyfriend sidled up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck. 

“I may have made that chocolate bark you love so much,” you said with a hum, allowing yourself to melt into his hold for a moment. There was something so special and intimate about these moments with your boyfriend. Steve made you feel like you were the most important person in the world, not just to him, but everyone. You always hated attention, but the love and admiration you noticed in his eyes every time he tells you he loves you makes you overlook that distaste – if only just to see him happy. 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiled against your skin, his lips pressing against it in the form of many light kisses. You had to refrain from giggling. “What else?”

“And there might be some fresh gingerbread in the oven right now.”

There was a gentle nip to your ear, which was accompanied by wiggling fingers that danced along your sides. “Mmm, nothing else?”

You gasped and turned to swat at him again. “Steven Joseph Harrington!” you exclaimed. “You get your mind out of the gutter this instant! How dare you try to seduce me while I’m baking for the children.”

Steve groaned. “I can’t help it how hot you look in that apron, babe,” he whined. “Just want to eat you up.”

A hot flush burned at your neck as it spread up and across your cheeks. “Well, maybe later,” you stuttered out. “But for now, I have to get back to work on these treats if they’re going to be ready for us to take to Robin’s tonight.”

In preparation for the holiday season, yours and Steve’s shared best friend, Robin Buckley, had decided to throw a little impromptu party for your friends. After everything that had gone on in your small town over the years, she was determined to salvage one of the happiest (or, to quote the great Andy Williams, the most wonderful) times of the years. She had been planning the party for weeks, selecting only the “best” Christmas films of all time and records that would keep everyone feeling the Christmas spirit – even if it meant playing a few Black Sabbath songs for Eddie. Everyone was meant to bring something to eat and you had volunteered to bring the desserts. While you had nothing against the local bakery, there was nothing like the taste of a freshly made baked good that came from the heart rather than a plastic container. 

The only catch? The dress code was U.C.S.O.:

Ugly Christmas Sweaters Only, otherwise known as what Steve liked to refer to as his own personal hell.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he sighed and stepped away from torturing you momentarily to run his fingers through his dark brown hair. “Fine,” he relented. “Do you need any help, though?” 

With a sigh, you glanced around the warzone of a kitchen and placed your hands on your hips. Everything was pretty much done for the most part. There were a few things in the oven, but everything that needed to be prepped before the party was already set aside and cooling. “I mean, I think I’m just about done. Just have to clean up and get everything out of the oven.”

“If you want,” Steve offered, “I can finish and clean up so you can get ready.”

You felt your heart grow soft as you smiled at the man before you. “Really?” you asked. “You’d do that for me?”

Your boyfriend shrugged. “Of course! How could I say no to my baby like that? I would be, like, the world’s worst boyfriend then, wouldn’t I?”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Not the worst. But you would most certainly still be the cutest.”

“Well, shucks, babe,” Steve teased as he began to roll up his sleeves. “I’m flattered.”

With a wink, he pulled on his yellow rubber gloves and procured a sponge from beside the faucet. His outfit reminded you of the old days, back when your relationship was still new and the two of you were battling an alien dog that had eaten one of your babysitting charges’ cat. While you were glad those days were behind you, there was still a part of you that missed the adventure and worried if the quiet domesticity would be enough for Steve. 

It wasn’t that you were afraid it wasn’t what he wanted– the two of you had had a lengthy conversation about your futures, with both of you being in agreement of wanting to start a family together at some point. You were more worried about the fact Steve may become bored with the idea of a domestic you, where the most rebellious thing you did each day would be whether or not you cut the crusts off your sandwich. 

“Babe?” Steve’s voice cut through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. When you glanced over to acknowledge him, you noticed the concern practically radiating off of his face. “Are you okay?”

“Hm? Oh, uh, yeah,” you tried to console him. “Just…got lost in thought is all.”

Unfortunately, that hardly did anything to lessen the stress your boyfriend exhibited. His frown only deepened as he set down the sponge and pulled the gloves off to cradle your face in his hands. There was an emotion you couldn’t quite place flickering in his expression. It was almost like a twinge of sadness mixed with…guilt? 

“Are you sure?” he asked, more urgently this time. “You looked like you were in, like, another world or somethin’.”

Oh. 

It made more sense now. Ever since the earthquake, Steve had been increasingly protective over you. He worried about your every move for months, especially since you had become seduced by the siren song of a ticking clock. The same song that took the lives of so many others. It almost took you away from him, too. The night you froze in his arms, shaking in fear with eyes rolled toward the back of your head. They didn’t know your favorite song, they didn’t know how to save you. In an act of blind desperation, Steve had hummed the only song he could think of, which was coincidentally the first song you danced to at the kid’s Snow Ball: Time After Time. 

You can still remember how soft and broken his voice sounded as he sang to you. 

“If you're lost, you can look, and you will find me,” he whispered between tears. “Time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting. Time after time.” 

If you didn’t believe in the power of true love before then, you did the moment you broke free from the trace and came face-to-face with Steve’s teary hazel eyes. When he finally realized you had come back, he pulled you into a dizzying and searing kiss you can sometimes still feel if you think about it. It wasn’t just a declaration of love, or the feeling of relief, but a promise of a future he one day hoped to share with you. 

“Steve.” You reached up to grab his face with your own hands. “I’m fine, I promise. I was just thinking about things.”

“Are- are you sure?” His voice came out a bit crackly, as though he was on the verge of anxious tears. 

“Absolutely one-hundred-percent sure,” you assured him. With a bit of additional height gained from being on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss onto his lips. I’m here, it said. And I’m not going anywhere. 

“Now. I’m going to go get cleaned up and get this flour out of my hair so we can get ready to go. If we make them all wait for too long, Robin’s gunna put us on dishes duty.” 

Steve groaned. “But we already did so much…” 

“No, I did the baking. You just stood there and looked pretty.”

Your boyfriend playfully lifted a nearby dish towel and proceeded to swat at your butt with it. “Okay, that’s enough outta you, babe. Go get ready.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - -

About an hour later, you arrived back downstairs feeling refreshed and excited for the holiday festivities that undoubtedly lay ahead of you for the rest of the night. You tugged are your sweater, hoping the material wouldn’t rise up too much over the course of wearing it. When you had washed the sweaters, you had made the mistake of drying yours a bit too long. You were pretty sure it had shrunk, but there was nothing else you could do about it. 

“Well, damn,” Steve let out a low whistle. “I think it’s official. My baby can make anything look good.”

Flattered, you blushed and gave your boyfriend a playful twirl. The sweater wasn’t that much different than his. Fashioned from a similar red colored yarn, your sweater boasted more snowflakes that pom-poms. A non-red-nosed reindeer outfitted the front, its grin appearing a little too eager for the holidays. Tinsel adorned the neck and wrists of the top, as well, ensuring that you’d definitely stand out alongside Steve. 

“Why thank you,” you teased. “But I still think you wear Melvald’s originals better than I do, babe.”

“Remind me to burn that store to the ground one day.” 

You rolled your eyes and slipped on your coat. “It’s not that bad, Steve!” 

“Says you!!” your boyfriend argued. “You literally look smoking hot, while I’m over here looking like a very festive tomato.”

“Ah, yes. But you’re my festive tomato.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before you picked up a tower of cookie containers. Was this potentially too many desserts? Possibly. But what else are the holidays for if not enjoying sweet treats with the ones you love most? 

“Come on, tomato boy!” you called from over your shoulders. “Help me load in these desserts so we can go show the kids just who means business at Christmas trivia.”

==============

Author's Note: Anddd we're back. How's everyone enjoying Stevemas so far? We're almost halfway through at this point, and I have to admit, I'm starting to lose a bit of steam. I have about four unplanned fics left to write, so if anyone has any Christmas (or other holiday season) ideas, please feel free to send them my way!

If you enjoyed this story, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend who might be interested, and give this post a cheeky reblog! These types of interactions really help me out as a writer. They tell me what you like to see and keep me motivated and writing! I mentioned this last time and I think it helped out a bit with the engagement, so if you want to stay in the loop of all things Stevemas or any of my other fics, don't be afraid to follow or ask to be included in my tag lists. I promise I'm a very friendly person who won't spam you too much with my fandom musings :)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Santa Who? (Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Santa Who? (Rated G)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: None, just Christmas cuteness and toddler hijinks! Dad Steve is back, everyone!

Summary: Amy and Emery Harrington are three years old and cannot wait for Christmas! When your husband tries to keep up a tradition, they begin to question who this mysterious man in a red suit is. Can Uncle Dustin save the day?

“Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen!” your husband read out dramatically, glancing up excitedly at the two little girls sat comfortably on either of your legs. Only one had managed to stay awake the entire way through, whereas the other was watching him read with rapt attention. It was officially the Christmas season and Steve was beyond excited to be able to continue his tradition of reading the beloved holiday poem to your twins.  

“On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen!
 To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall!
 Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Steve’s attempt to deepen his voice similar to that of the man in red. He gave a jolly laugh which woke Amy up before continuing with the story in his normal voice. “And I heard him exclaim as he flew out of sight, ‘Merry Christmas to all! And to all, a good night!’”

As he closed the hardcover book and moved to set it on the side table, little Emery Harrington reached over to tug on his shirtsleeve. “What dat ‘bout, Daddy?” 

Steve smiled down at his little princess. “It’s about Christmas, babe,” he explained gently. “When Saint Nick comes to visit.”

He was met with an adorable head tilt. “Daint….Nick?”

You pecked the soft tufts of light brown copper locks upon her head. “Santa, squirt,” you tried to help. “Remember Santa?”

To your surprise, both girls shook their heads in your lap. 

“You never taught your children about Santa?!” Dustin’s voice cracked in disbelief from his position on the floor. It was your brother’s last Christmas in Hawkins before he would be moving to New York for college next summer. You had made the terrible decision to offer for him to stay with you and your family for a few days during the break. “You really are a disgrace to the Henderson name. I mean, honestly….”

“Hey!” Steve reached around your waist and pulled you closer toward his lap protectively. “It’s Harrington now, you little shiiiiiitake mushroom.” He smiled sheepishly at the eye roll you gave in response to his terrible cover-up of a swear in front of the kids. “Besides, we told them about Santa last year. I think they were just too young to remember.”

“Sure, Steve.” Dustin sighed and straightened his back as he stood up, eyes now locked onto yours. “I have to make a call.” 

He was already halfway to the receiver before you even gave a nod, the phone cord soon stretched under the guest bedroom door. 

“Sure, go ahead,” you remarked under your breath. “Use our phone. What’s mine is yours, dear brother. Not that you even care.”

Steve laughed at your remark, reaching over to pull Em into his lap. “You should have known this was going to happen if you invited him over for the break,” he said, bouncing the dark haired three-year-old up and down for her amusement. 

“Yeah, I know, but-“

“Who Fanta?” Em interrupted you with an innocent pout. 

Your husband glanced down at her small frame in his hold. She almost looked like a miniature grown-up, big brown eyes serious, stare evident. “Santa?” Steve asked her. 

She nodded. “Yesh. Who dat?”

“Well, you kind of know who he is, babe,” he explained. “Remember we got yours and Amy’s picture taken at the mall the other day?” A fond smile lit up both of your faces at the memory. It had been a literal fight with the devil to get the girls in their holiday outfits and to the mall before close. You had told Steve you were going to just take the day off of work to get them prepped, but he had insisted upon helping after work — a mistake that caused a total race to the finish at seven o’clock on the dot. The girls were nearly asleep by the time you got them situated with the kind man in red, but to the two of you, it was a well-earned victory that left you driving home with ten copies of images in your bags. 

“Well, Santa knows the names of every little girl and boy in the world and brings presents to the ones who are especially good,” your husband continued to explain. “And on Christmas Eve, he visits everyone’s houses with his reindeer and leaves presents for the good kids and coal for the naughty ones.”

Amy whimpered in your lap and pressed her face against your stomach. Concerned, you frowned and stroked a hand through her short hair. “Whatsa matter, bean?” you cooed. 

“Dun want Fanna!!” The light haired angel sobbed into your shirt. 

Sharing a confused glance with Steve, you lifted Amy up in your arms to gently wipe at her tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong with Santa, bean, hm?” 

Amy only continued to sob, small hands grabbing onto your shirt. 

“Babe, you have nothing to worry about,” Steve tried to console her next. He reached over to run three of his fingers up and down her small back. You felt her shiver against you and give a small shake of her head. “You’ve been such a good girl this year. Santa’s not going to give you coal.” 

This only made Amy howl more. 

What happened? Your gaze silently questioned Steve. Your husband merely gave a shrug in response. Your guess was clearly as good as his. 

“I think it’s time for a bit of a nap, don’t you?” he proposed softly. “Then we can have dinner and watch a movie.” 

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

Aside from the earlier confusion, the rest of the evening went on as most did within the Harrington house. You and Steve worked together to make dinner. Actually, that was a lie. Steve mostly made dinner. You sat at the kitchen counter, eyes locked onto the way a smile wormed its way across his face and how his body swayed to the faint melody of whatever Christmas Carol he had been humming. It had taken the two of you a while, but before long, a warm home cooked meal was ready to be eaten at the kitchen table. 

Dustin sat between Amy and Em, at the former’s request. It wasn’t surprising. Uncle Dustin was her idol and everything he did was interesting to her. Amy herself seemed much better after her nap. She had apparently forgotten about the whole Santa conversation and was quick to lose herself in the mashed potatoes on her plate. Much to your chagrin, she discovered how her spoon could be used as the perfect catapult (something you felt sure you could blame Dustin for teaching her at some point). Fortunately, said brother appeared the target of the projectiles, so perhaps he already had his just desserts moment. 

“Amy, bean, don’t play with your food,” you pleaded as you reached over to wipe her hands free of the starchy side dish. The next task you busied yourself with was cleaning up the spoon, which you planned on using to help feed her, should her escapades get out of hand. 

“My paddews!!” Amy howled sadly. She reached her arms out toward you as you wiped at the utensil before ultimately deciding to swap it for a new one. 

“….your what?” Steve couldn’t hide his smile at her antics. 

“Her paddles, obviously,” Dustin came to his faithful niece’s aid. He looked far too proud in your opinion, aside from the glob of potatoes still stuck in his curly hair. “Her paddles to guide her on her latest curiosity journey.”

You sighed, and were about to chide your brother for providing the spark for too much curiosity, when there was a knock on the door. Confused, you turned to Steve with a knit brow and frown. “Were you expecting anyone else?” 

Your husband shook his head. “No,” he replied. “Could be carolers, though. It’s around that time.” 

The knock sounded again — three short ones to be exact, separated with a brief pause each time. It continued two more times before a quick double tap. When the cycle repeated, you could almost make out the familiar beat of jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way….

“Maybe the girls should answer it!” Dustin supplied suddenly. “I think it might be a good idea to start teaching them some independence during this wonderful time we call the holiday season, don’t you?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at your brother in suspicion. “What are you up to, Henderson?”

“Me? Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing at all! Can’t an uncle want to teach his nieces some life skills during Christmas?!”

When the knocking repeated its rhythm for a third time, you heard the low mumble of laughter coming from outside. “Ho Ho Ho,” a deep voice let out. “Is this the Harrington residence?” 

You blinked and looked from the door in the hallway over to your brother, who merely smirked and gave a small shrug. “I told you. I had to make a call.” 

Without another word, you and Steve got up from the table and picked up a daughter each. As you neared the front door, you could see the shadow of a very familiar looking hat. Turning the doorknob and opening the door, you were surprised. Sporting a belly as jiggly as a bowl full of jelly and nose as red as a cherry was the man in red himself: Santa Claus. You felt your heart swell as you glanced up at his sparkling eyes and incredibly bushy white beard. 

Jim Hopper gave you a small wink as he leaned down to smile at both of your girls. “Well, hello here, Amelia and Emery,” he said in an overly deep voice. “Merry Christmas. Do you know who I am?”

Em could hardly keep herself from flying out of Steve’s arms. “FANTA!” she exclaimed. “FANTA CLAWS!” 

Amy, on the other hand, was as frozen as an icicle in your hold. She blinked at the man before her in fear. Your heart broke to see her lower lip quiver in what you could only assume was an indication of an upcoming tantrum — something you rarely experienced with your typically quiet child. 

As though he could sense the impending doom, “Santa” turned his attention over to Amy. “I heard from my elves at the North Pole that you two were some of the first kids on the nice list this year,” he said in a jolly tone. “That’s pretty impressive, so I thought I might drop by and give you a little something special early.” 

With a wink, he turned behind him to brandish a red and gold embroidered sack. You let out a small snort at his antics, wiggling his white-gloved fingers before reaching dramatically into the bag to pull out a small mailbox outfitted in red and green paper. Along the side of the box in gold lettering was written, For Santa’s Eyes Only. With a smile, he held it out to you and Amy. “No one else has one quite like this,” he exaggerated his whisper. “You and your sister are the only ones that’ll be able to have direct contact with us up in the North Pole. You can be my little helpers, okay? Can I count on you two?” 

Em grinned. “YESH!” she shouted in excitement. 

“Santa” returned her grin in a similar fashion. “Why thank you, Miss Emery,” he replied, turning to face you and Amy. “Now, what about you, Miss Amelia?”

Almost in deep thought, Amy hesitated before waving her hand in a “come hither” motion. With a confused smile, “Santa” obeyed and leaned his ear closer to hear her whispers. After a moment, he grinned and gave a jolly laugh. “Oh, I think we can definitely manage that,” he replied with a smile. “You two take care of that special mailbox for me, alright? I have to head back to the North Pole to help the elves get ready for Christmas. I heard Rudolph may have gotten loose in the kitchen again.”

After saying your goodbyes and sending a silent thanks to Hopper, your little family made your way back inside. Em was far too excited and eager to tell Dustin about their latest visitor, jumping around the mailbox you had set on the living room coffee table as she shared the story. Even Amy was in far better spirits. Later that night, she asked for your help to write her first original letter to Santa, thanking him for stopping by and keeping their little secret. 

When you asked Dustin what she meant by that the next day, he only smiled and gave you a wink. “Never trust an uncle and his nieces around a cookie jar, my dear sibling,” he responded rather dramatically, “for it only leads to temptation.”

==================

Author's Note: Dad Steve is back everyone and he brought his adorable little munchkins alongside him. You all seemed to love Amy and Emery so much with my thanksgiving fic, Recipe for Family, I just had to bring them back. They are absolutely adorable and I would be lying if I said I didn't squeal several times whilst writing this fic!

If you want to see more dad!Steve fics on my blog or during Stevemas, make sure to leave a comment or reblog! These two interactions really help me understand what you all like to see from me -- plus it gives me the motivation to keep writing/posting. I'm not sure if it's Tumblr eating my posts or if I'm just picking the wrong times, but it would really make my day to see how many people are enjoying my first Tumblr event! If you have any suggestions for future fics, send me an ask or DM and I would love to chat with you about it. Who knows...maybe it'll end up on the fic schedule ;)

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

(Want to join the taglist? Let me know! :) )

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Letters from Santa (Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader)

Letters from Santa (Rated G)

Pairing: Dad!Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

Warnings: None!

Summary: For Day 9 of Stevemas; A continuation of Letters to Santa, little Amelia can't wait to get her letter back from Santa Claus to prove her point to a classmate. What happens when one day, just a few days before Christmas, your husband discovers a very special delivery from the man in red himself.

“Did it come?” Amelia asked as you opened the door to your car and helped her into her carseat. 

It’s a question that she has been asking you for weeks now. Ever since Steve promised that if she was really nice to Santa in her letter, she would hear back. Now this was all she was worried about when you came to pick her up from preschool after your shift.

Amy pouted, just as she’d done every time she asked and you hesitated to answer her. 

It always broke her heart when you had to tell her no. She had so much hope instilled in her by her father. From the minute she was lifted up to release the envelope into the special red and green mailbox (which just so happened to be a direct line to Santa that appeared every time the girls were ready to contact him), she was so excited to go back to school with her response. To find out it hadn’t come yet completely crushed her. 

A sigh escaped your lips, just as it did every time you watched her facial expression morph into one of pleading. Except this time, it was accompanied by a cheeky smirk you hoped your twin daughters wouldn’t detect as you strapped Em in her carseat. “I’m sorry, bean,” you apologized before slipping into the driver’s seat. “Nothing in the mailbox yet.” 

You watched your daughter’s arms slump from your view of the rearview mirror. Emery reached over to gently pat her sister’s arm. “Itsokay, Amy,” she soothed. “Soon! Like Daddy said.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, another small smile toyed upon your lips as you began to make your way back home. “Soon!”

Little did she know how soon it would be…

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

“Are those my girls?” Steve’s voice called from the kitchen when he heard the sound of the front door opening up. 

“DADDY!” two familiar voices cried out. 

He wiped his hands on a dish towel and slung it over his shoulder before he poked his head into the hallway. A smile stretched its way across his face as he noticed you attempting to balance two small backpacks in one hand, one light-haired toddler on your hip, and another dark-haired toddler vice-gripped to your right leg. 

It was a sight Steve would never tire of seeing every single day of his life until the day he died: you with his family– your shared family that you were growing together. He knew he found the right person when he told you his dream and you didn’t laugh. You didn’t mock him, challenge it, or make him feel as though it was overall stupid. Instead, you thought it was admirable to want to have a family to love and protect after not truly having one for so long.

While you had made him promise that the two of you would grow your family slowly, given the time off needed and your current finances… God, he couldn’t wait for the day you could carry another little bundle of joy through that front door. Maybe even two. 

“Somebody was asking about the mail again,” your voice broke through his thoughts, dragging Steve back to the present. He watched as you placed Amy down on the hardwood floor and dropped their backpacks by the door. A stray piece of hair fell into your eyes and Steve had trouble battling the desire to walk over to put it back in place. 

The aforementioned child padded her way over toward him, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Did it come yet, Daddy?” Amy pressed. 

“What?” Steve raised his hands and let them flop dramatically against his thighs. “No ‘hi daddy?’ or ‘I love you, daddy, how was your day?’?!” 

Em took that as a sign to detach herself from your leg and connect with his own. “Hi Daddy!!”

Steve looked down with a fond smile, hand reaching down to ruffle her light brown copper curls. “Hi, squirt.” He diverted his attention back to the lighter haired girl beside him. “I thiiiink I can remember seeing something when I checked the mail this afternoon. Had an awful lot of stamps. Think it traveled a long way to get here.”

An expression of pure joy lit up the young girl’s face. “REALLY?” 

“It’s for you and your sister,” Steve replied with a smile and a nod. “I put it on the kitchen table.” 

He almost fell flat on his face with the amount of force Em used to run away from his leg. 

You laughed as you wrapped your arms around his waist to steady him. “Whoa,” you said between giggles. “Easy there, tiger. Who would’ve thought a four-year-old could take you out faster than an angry Byers.”

“Oh, low blow.” Steve pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. He then pulled you into a tighter hug, relishing in your form against his own. It was a feeling he could never tire of and he was glad to know he would never have to know what it would be like to live without it. “How was your day?”

“Long,” you mumbled against his chest. “Glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home too.” Steve pressed a few more kisses against your hairline. With you here, he felt safe. With you, he was home.

“Whatcha making for dinner?”

You felt the vibrations of his laugh in his chest against your face. It filled you with a warmth better than any coffee or soup ever could. “Well I was trying to make some Italian, but I got a little interrupted by-”

 “HE’S REAL!” Amy’s small voice came in from the kitchen. There was a smattering of footsteps that tore down the hall as the two girls came over to the two of you, the envelope waved in the air. “He’s really real, Daddy! Wote me a wetter like you said!!”

“ME TOO!” Em shouted, not to be outdone by her sister. 

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised with a smile, arms still wrapped around you. “I thought that return address looked familiar.”

Within seconds, two envelopes were thrust in his direction by some very tiny hands. “Can you read it, Daddy?”

A quiet groan escaped your lips for Steve’s ears only as you needed to detach yourself from his hold. He couldn’t help the grin on his face as he plucked the envelopes from their hands and began to ceremoniously pull the notes from their confinements. He cleared his throat and began to read: 

Dearest Amelia and Emery, You can only imagine how thrilled I was to receive your letters this Christmas. Mrs. Claus and I are doing just fine up in the North Pole. Although, I do miss the cookies over there in Hawkins. I don’t suppose you have any more of those chocolate chip ones you left for me last year, do you? The reindeer were so disappointed when I only gave them the carrots (they were so good, I just couldn’t share!).  It’s funny you should mention wanting a doll for Christmas this year. I think the elves might have something like that being cooked up in the workshop. About the puppy…I think I’ll have to see what I can do. I’m not sure if you know this, but for extra special requests like these, I need to check in with a few more of the elves.  I think I just heard a clatter from the stables. Rudolph’s been getting a bit impatient now that we’re so close to Christmas. We just can’t wait to visit you in Hawkins again this year!! Don’t forget about those cookies and we’ll see you soon! Sincerely, Santa Claus

“Well, would you look at that,” Steve said with a low whistle once he finished reading. “What does that signature say, girls?”

“SANTA CLAWS,” both girls shouted in excitement. 

Em bounced around the room, causing Steve to wonder just how many sugar cookies she had eaten at the preschool’s holiday party. Amy looked absolutely over the moon, eyes shining at the piece of paper held in her father’s hand as though it was the most precious jewel. She tugged gently on his pant leg, arm outstretched. 

“Can I have it, Daddy?” she asked softly.

You tilted your head to rest against Steve’s shoulder. “What do we say, bean?”

“Please?” 

Steve smiled and knelt down to hand the letter to her. “Here you go, squirt,” he said softly. “Told you he wouldn’t let you down.”

Amy hesitated for a moment before she threw her arms around his neck. The ends of her short hair tickled at his nose, but Steve didn’t move. He simply pressed a kiss to the top of her head and held her close. He could feel her beaming smile against his shoulder and knew his heart was going to burst from the sweetness at some point. “Fank you, Daddy,” she whispered. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he said and he meant it. 

On the day his two little miracles were born, Steve made a promise to himself and to them. Anytime his little girls needed him, he would be there. They needed help with a school bake sale? He’d stay up until four in the morning to make sure they had treats to sell. Someone breaks their heart? He’s there to break their bones with a bat. 

Steve Harrington was never going to let his girls stop believing in the things that brought them joy, because he sure as hell will never stop believing in them. 

-----------------------

Author's Note: We're almost there guys! Just three sleeps until Christmas. Honestly, I'm surprised I got this far. I won't lie to you all, there might be a bit of a delay on fics being posted, but the final three fics will be written and posted as soon as I'm able! I have two more days to write -- let's keep our fingers crossed these ideas will start to write themselves after a while. In the meantime, Dad!Steve is back and ready to protect his little girls. I honestly love this version of Steve and it still makes me smile to think about how we've all collectively decided he's a girl dad. Great job everyone!

If you liked this story and want to see more like it on my blog, make sure to leave a comment, tag a friend, and reblog this post. Likes are appreciated, but it's the other types of interactions that really help me out as a writer. It spreads the word about my works and lets me know what types of content you like to see, motivating me to keep writing/posting! If you want updates on Stevemas or the rest of my fandom-related ramblings, maybe consider giving my blog a follow! We're nearing another big milestone, so start sending me ideas for things you'd like to see for a celebration.

Until next time, my little sparks! <3

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Light Up My Life (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Light Up My Life (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Brief language and some suggestive situations, but mainly fluff!

Summary: For Stevemas Day 12; Your and your boyfriend, Steve, have been dating for some time. Although time has never been on your side, the two of you are determined to spend the holiday together this year. When you decide to have an early Christmas date night, Steve comes up with a way to make it even more magical...

You sighed to yourself as you stared over the counter to the parking lot outside, hands toying with a random piece of scrap paper. The sun had just started to set for the night, casting shadows against the asphalt and sending vibrant hues of orange sunlight through the windows. For the Christmas season, you would think the bookstore would be even busier. People would pass in and out to pick up whatever cheap new release there was for the friendly bookworm. Come January, loyal customers would come in to exchange the attempt to connect for the new book title they were really interested in.

Except this year, it seemed paperbacks were replaced by whatever the latest technology was. Even Dustin Henderson had charted a new course on his voyage of curiosity that all but left the world of Dungeons and Dragons guides and physics textbooks behind. Mrs. Peterson was the lonely lingering customer in the corners of bookshelves. Her eyes flickered between a paperback copy of The Dead Poets Society or a leather-bound collection of Emily Dickinson’s works. 

She was one of your regulars, the bookworms with heart, as you called them. Every Christmas, Mrs. Peterson would show up to the store with a mission to find the perfect book for every person on her shopping list. 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you crossed the store to help her. “Mrs. Peterson,” you called over. “Doing some last-minute shopping? Anything I can help you with today?”

“Oh, hello dear!” the older woman glanced up from the covers with an endearing smile. She held out the two books in your direction. “I’m trying to find something for my great-niece, Dariah. She wasn’t supposed to be coming to Christmas dinner, since she needed to fly in all the way from California. She started college there, did I tell you? Southern California University…no, wait. That isn’t quite it.” 

She paused to raise an index finger to her lower lip in thought. A moment later, Mrs. Peterson’s face lit up as she gave a small exclamation. “University of Southern California! Yes, yes,” she jabbered on with an eager series of nods, “that’s it! She’s been studying literature there. Told me herself that she wants to get published, maybe even work in the publishing world.”

“Oh wow, that’s fantastic, Mrs. Peterson!” you tried to sound excited for the older woman. Truly, you did. “You must be so proud! California isn’t a bad place to study.”

You glanced over to the large clock affixed to the wall by the checkout counter. 6:55, it read. Your boyfriend was supposed to pick you up after close – sometime after seven o’clock. He worked across the street at the local video rental store, Family Video, so it wouldn’t be too far of a trek. The last thing you wanted, though, was for him to have to sit and wait for you to finish with a customer. 

“Yes, well,” Mrs. Peterson agreed, “but I wish she didn’t live so far away and then decide to come home on a spur of the moment. Now I’m having a hard time figuring out what to get her.”

“Hmm.” You let your eyes wander around the store, the seemingly endless rows of books new and old. You tilted your head and started to walk through the shelves, dodging and weaving until you found the nonfiction section. Personally, you never really visited this section for leisure, but you had a vague idea of what hidden gems lurked amongst the shelves. “You mentioned she was looking to be published?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Peterson replied. “She’s always been writing ever since she was a child. I mean, the stories she’s come up with–”

 “I’m sure they’re lovely, Mrs. P,” you tried to politely reroute the conversation back to the original topic. Reaching up, you plucked a dark-blue covered book and held it out to the woman. “On Writing Well by Micheal Zinsser. It was published just this year and we’ve already had numerous orders of it from the local universities. She might get something out of it in terms of writing.”

As she took the book from you, she gave a small tut of appreciation. “Oh thank you, dear. Somehow you always know exactly what I’m looking for.”

You chuckled and shrugged your shoulders, taking the other two books from her hand and walked over to place them back in their rightful places. “Sometimes it’s less about finding the perfect book for a person, and more about the perfect person for the book.” You gestured vaguely over your shoulder toward the register. “What do you say we get you all checked out and you can head home to finish up those last-minute preparations for Dariah, yeah?”

“I mean it, dear,” the woman said as she walked over to the counter. “I don’t know how you manage to do it every time. You’re quite the young person. More people should be like you.”

“Well,” a familiar voice cut into the conversation, “as much as I appreciate your compliments here, Mrs. Peterson, if there were more people like your favorite employee over here, I would be a very jealous man.”

You glanced up to catch the hazel-eyed stare of your boyfriend leaning against the front door of the shop. He jerked a thumb toward the handle. “You forgot to lock up. Gotta be careful, sweetheart. You never know who will come barging in after hours.”

“Oh, Steve,” Mrs. Peterson smiled as you rang up her purchase, “you’ve found yourself quite the keeper.”

“That I have, Mrs. Peterson.” Steve said as he strode into the store. He ducked down under the counter flap to wrap his arms around your waist and placed a resounding lip smack against your cheek. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

You shivered at his show of affection, which caused Mrs. Peterson to chuckle. “Don’t let this one slip away.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on letting this one go for a long, long, long time,” your boyfriend promised. 

You turned your head to catch his gaze. “A long, long, long time?” you teased.

“As long as you’ll have me.”

A hot flush crept up your neck and tickled your cheeks. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed by his comments. Steve had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. He never did it to make you uncomfortable. Over the last five years you dated, you had come to find that every word he said he meant. The fact that someone would say these things about you, much less mean what they said, was difficult to comprehend at times. It had only taken a few months for the first “I love you” – something that you had never done before. But with Steve, it was easy. 

He made things easy and you could spend every day finding new ways to fall in love with him. 

“Get ready for the long haul, then, Harrington,” you mumbled as you reached over the counter to hand a receipt to Mrs. Peterson and waved goodbye. 

Your boyfriend hummed and sent his own goodbye to your customer, opting to stick his face into your neck once the door shut behind her. Another thing you learned about Steve over the years was how clingy he was. No matter what you were doing together, Steve always had to touch you in some capacity. A hand clasped in your as you shopped for groceries in town, lips pressed to your temple as you sat in his lap while Dustin explained his latest theories. His fingertips would slide their way up under the hem of your shirt when he was just standing next to you, tracing random shapes into the skin. 

“Ready for our date, sweetheart?” Steve mumbled into the junction of your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the area and hummed when he felt you shiver under his touch. 

“Just about,” you responded absentmindedly. “Just have to clean and lock up before we can go.”

“I can help.”

You shot him a frown, eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You sure?”

Your boyfriend nodded and released you from his grip to pick up a stack of books off the counter. “Babe,” he said with a tsking sound, “I sort tapes for a living across the street. I think I can manage a few books.”

“Yeah, but there’s a certain order-”

“I got this,” Steve tried to calm you. “Go get ready to lock up. The lights of Loch Nora are waiting for us. Don’t want them to burn out before we get there, yeah?”

A little hesitant at first, you finally agreed to give Steve a stack of books meant for the fiction section. Your hope was that even if he didn’t recognize or understand the sorting system of the store, he would at least be able to rely on his skills from the video store to help him out. To no one’s surprise, Steve handled the stack with ease. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t waited a moment just to take in the view of his chin holding the stack in place, his free hand putting book after book back on the shelf. 

“Hey babe?” he called out after a few moments of sorting. “Where’s your horror section?”

“Over by the romance.” You used the stepstool to replace the leather copies of The Hobbit and Fellowship on the collectors’ shelf. Why your boss thought it would be a good idea to sell ninety dollar editions of the classic stories was beyond you. None of your typical Hawkins customers could afford it, unless they won the lottery. “Don’t ask me to explain the system. They’re just in the same area.”

“Aaaaaaand done!” Steve clapped his hands together and emerged from the back of the store a moment later, a small paperback clutched in his right hand. “Hey, do people really read this shit?”

At first, you couldn’t tell what the book was. Being in a literal bookstore made it difficult to narrow it down. However, when Steve held it up to the light, you caught sight of the title and your stomach dropped: After the Stars Fall. The cover image was simple enough, depicting a man and a woman as they embraced in front of a fireplace.

“I, uh,” you stuttered. “I think we’ve sold a few of those. Not recently, though. It’s a couple years old.”

“Huh.” Steve glanced down at the book in his hands. “Is it any good?” 

Even though you hadn’t read the book yourself, you knew the reputation these novels had. Karen Wheeler in particular always seemed rather flustered whenever she picked up her latest installment. You thought that was a pretty clear sign to steer clear until the later stages of life. 

“I mean,” you chuckled half-heartedly, “those two look pretty cozy. Probably just got some quiet time by the fire after they put the kids to bed. Domestic bliss; must be nice.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve’s voice sounded distant. When you glanced back up at him in concern, you noticed he was staring at you. Yet, as you looked closer, you noticed he was staring past you. He was lost in a dreamworld of sorts, allowing his mind to wander in ways you would most likely never understand. 

“Steve?” you asked timidly, hand placed against his bicep. “Babe, are you okay?”

 All of a sudden, Steve flinched and his eyes flickered to yours. A smile graced his features as he nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Yeah,” he soothed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Let me go start the car and we can go, alright? Don’t want you freezing that cute little butt of yours off waiting for the heat.”

You laughed and gave a little wink as you walked to grab your jacket from the back room. “Something tells me I’d have something else to help keep me warm.”

⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ ⧫ 

Growing up in Hawkins, one could find themselves becoming desensitized to the small-town charm. Who wouldn’t? Being around the same stores, the same people, the same town…a change of scenery started to sound nice after a while. You tried to get out about four years ago. After graduating high school in the summer of ‘85, you followed the Byers out west to attend University of California, Berkeley. It was a tough transition, especially without your boyfriend. The two of you made the long distance work as best you could over the year, relying on phone calls, letters, even the occasional surprise visits when you could. 

After spring break freshman year, you knew the next three would drag on if you stayed in California. You couldn’t let Hawkins go. Your family was here— both biological and otherwise— so was your home…and Steve. You couldn’t let it go, not again. 

So you didn’t leave. 

After the earthquake, you made the decision to move back to Indiana for good. You transferred to Indiana State University, finished your degree, and took up a job doing something you loved in the process. It had taken you some time, but in between loan payments, you and Steve were able to put rent down on a lease. The apartment itself wasn’t grand by any means, but it was home. 

This year marked the first Christmas you and Steve would spend without the stress of finals or scheduling conflicts. The two of you made sure to request the day off in advance, going as far as taking additional shifts to cover the expenses. It was tough, but you knew it would all be worth it to wake up on Christmas morning with Steve by your side. 

You rarely found yourself traveling through the Loch Nora neighborhood during the rest of the year. The big houses were daunting and the people who lived inside were even more so. People said Hawkins was cursed, plagued by a mystical evil that corrupted those who went looking in the wrong places. Once upon a time, you thought that to be true, too. Now, as you see the displays of red, green, and gold lights strung up over houses and fresh trees neatly dressed with popcorn in people’s yards, you only saw the magic. 

As Steve drove through the streets of your small home town, you felt yourself begin to relax into the leather seats of your boyfriend’s car. The sound of Christmas carols wormed its way into your ears from the stereo speakers, pairing nicely with the low hum of Steve’s voice as it sang along to the lyrics. 

“I can’t remember the worst December,” Steve sang quietly, both hands still situated upon the wheel. “Just watch the icicles form. What do I care if icicles form? I've got my love to keep me warm.”

You felt a flush heat your skin while it crept up your neck at the sound of his voice. Almost as if sensing your bashfulness, Steve tilted his head toward you when he pulled up to the next stoplight. Ever the flirt, he gave you a small smile and quick wink as he continued to hum along with the tune. “Off with my overcoat,” he sang a bit louder now, another cheeky grin at the corner of his lips, “off with my gloves. Who needs an overcoat? I’m burning with love.”

 “Okay, now you’re just being mean,” you bemoaned. Without another word, you leaned over to lower the volume of the radio.

“Those are just the lyrics, babe,” your boyfriend defended. On any other occasion, you would have taken pity on him and let the situation go. Although, the grin which refused to remove itself from his face only made you smack him or cover your tinted face in your scarf. Maybe even both.

“Not the way you’re singing it. Just shut up and drive, Harrington.”

“Oh, well, isn’t someone bossy…” Steve snickered. “Maybe I like this new side of you. Where have you been hiding this one?”

He made another turn, this time onto a street that you were more familiar with. Through the early days of your friendship-turned-relationship, you would take this street to pull into Steve’s driveway when nightmares kept him up in the wee hours of the morning. His parents were hardly ever home, so it wasn’t like you needed to sneak in. Though now that the two of you had your own place, 

“What are we doing here?” you questioned, frowning at your boyfriend.

Steve merely smiled in response as he pulled up into the driveway and cut the ignition. He undid his seatbelt and gestured for you to do the same as he got out of the car. You couldn’t help but smile as he bolted over to the passenger side to open your door with a mock bow. It was such an old fashioned gesture, but it still felt entirely like Steve: an old soul with a big heart. “I want to show you something,” he said.

Steve held out his hand, which you were quick to accept. He took that as an opportunity to swing your interlaced fingers back and forth. Shoving his free hand in his pocket, he brandished a pair of keys and led you to unlock the back garden gate. It was darker than usual, the only light streamed from inside the pool. The two of you still knew your way around the yard, even in the dark. You allowed Steve to guide you along for a moment, before he suddenly stopped and rested his hands against your shoulders. 

“Alright,” he said. “Just– just wait here, okay?”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he stepped away, leaving you alone in the darkened backyard. You suddenly felt nervous for no apparent reason. Even though it had been a few years since the last interaction with the Upside Down, you remembered hearing about what happened to Barb in Steve’s backyard. You knew you could fend for yourself. It wouldn’t be your first tumble with the beasts from Hell. You also knew Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to you if there was a surprise intruder. 

Then why were you so anxious? 

Your thoughts were cut short by a flood of bright light which practically blinded you in the process. As you blinked away the initial shock, you were met with an even larger surprise. A gazebo was now tucked into the corner of the Harrington family’s backyard. It was illuminated by bright strands of warm yellow twinkling lights wrapped around the railing. Little paper snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, held up by invisible wire.  

Steve stood in the middle of the structure. An embarrassed smile stretched across his face and a flush burned bright pink against his cheeks. “Surprise?” he said weakly.

“Steve,” you trailed off in utter surprise. “What– what is this?”

“Well,” your boyfriend came closer to pull you under the overhang over the gazebo, hands tightly gripped against yours. “My, uh, parents always wanted a gazebo and I wanted to make this special, so I, uh, I guess two birds, one stone, yeah?”

You frowned and furrowed your brow. “You…you did this?”

Steve nodded and swallowed. His eyes shifted from one side of your face to the other, as though he was searching for something. After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

“I, uh, I had a whole speech prepared,” he admitted. “I wanted to tell you how much I love you, how much I want to be with you. I wanted to tell you about all the plans I had to make this Christmas as special as possible. But being here, now, today, that all flies out the window. Because, in the end, I know the flowery words won't matter. Because right now, all I see and all I feel is you.

“I know with everything that I have, that I want to be with you forever. I know that I will never stop loving you. I told you when you went off to college, I didn't care that we were only able to see each other during your breaks. That didn’t matter to me because it would be so worth it for you to come home. I guess the point here is I will never stop waiting for you, because you are my everything. You're everything I need, sweetheart.

“And right now, I really only have one thing left to ask you,” he continued, a teary and hopeful smile against his lips. As you looked over at him, you gasped as he knelt one knee onto the floor of the gazebo and produced a small box from his jacket pocket. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Steve,” you gasped and covered your mouth with two gloved hands. You felt the tears as they welled up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Steve asked gently. He scooted a bit closer to reach up and wipe the tears from your eyes. “Are you okay?”

You eagerly nodded. “Yeah, yeah,” you answered. “Yeah, I’m okay, Steve.”

A sigh escaped your boyfriend as his body released its tension to relax. “Okay, good,” he said with a nod. “That’s good. But, uh, I kinda need an answer here, babe.”

Not wanting to wait any longer, you slowly fell onto your knees to give him a kiss. Steve almost immediately melted into it. His hands wrapped around your waist as yours found the small tufts of hair at the base of his neck. Despite the cold chill of the December air, you felt as though you were sitting in front of an open fire. When you finally broke apart, a smile nearly threatened to split your face in two. 

“So…” Steve drawled out between huffs of breath. “Was that a yes?”

You kissed him again with a grin, much more quickly this time. “Yes,” you affirmed. “Yes, I will marry you. In every way and language. Oui, si, da, yes. Yes.”

You couldn’t believe this moment was really happening. After years of knowing each other, defeating monsters, and finally coming together, Steve was asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. You knew it wasn’t going to be perfect, but you knew it would be worth it. 

When you looked into your future, you saw the two of you finally living the lives you dreamed of. Whether it was in Hawkins or anywhere else, you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered is that you would be with Steve. He was your home, your family, and your future.

And you couldn’t wait to see what would happen next. 

============

Author's Note: And that officially concludes our Stevemas celebration. I can't believe this is the end. The last two weeks have sped by in a blur, but I couldn't be happier to have seen all the nice comments about this little event. I'll be honest when I say this started out as a completely self-indulgent challenge, but to see you all on every fic (and seeing some new faces, too), it really made my holiday season. I really wanted to make this last story special and I'm really happy with the end result.

That being said, thanks for sticking with me over the last 12 days. If you liked this fic and event series, and want to see more like it on my blog, please consider commenting, tagging a friend, and reblogging this post. Not only does it help motivate me to keep putting out new content, it also helps spread the word about my works. Likes are appreciated, but it's really these three interactions that help the most. If you want to get updates on any of my future stories, maybe consider giving my blog a cheeky follow. I promise I don't bite and won't spam you too much with mine and other creators' amazing work!

Until next time, my little sparks <3

Wishing you all a very merry christmas and an equally wonderful holiday season regardless of how you celebrate!

Taglist: @bakerstreethound, @theelmgrove, @maddipoof

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Make It Back for Christmas (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Make It Back for Christmas (Rated T)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 1.9k+

Warnings: Mild brief language, holiday fluff, pining Steve and Reader

Summary: It's the last week of the semester and you're dying to head back home to Hawkins for the holiday festivities. Not only that, but you haven't heard from your boyfriend in a week and you're already going through withdrawals. Will you be able to make it back in time for Christmas?

God, you hated finals week. 

This wasn’t like anything you experienced in your high school years. Or was it? Thanks to the last semester of all-nighters and unbelievable amounts of cram studying, the last four years all blended together. 

Three exams. You had three exams this week. Plus a term paper, a research project… one of your professors thought it would be fun to have an exam and a nine-page paper due the same week. Was it nine pages single-spaced or double? Hell if you knew. Your brain had already begun to hurt just thinking about everything you did to army-crawl your way through to break. Even though most of the hard work was done, you weren’t out of the clear yet— you still had a five hour drive home on Saturday and you hadn't packed yet. 

You just had to select a college five hours away. You hated being away from your home of small town Hawkins, Indiana. You missed your family, your friends. Some nights there was nothing you wanted more than to spend a few hours at the local arcade or the neighboring video store. 

The only thing that made everything seem a bit more bearable was your boyfriend. Usually, Steve would be the first one you would call and talk to after your latest exam or assignment, but you haven’t been able to reach him in days. The two of you had gotten together the summer before you left for college. It was a sweet summer romance story. You had known each other for years, practically growing up together. It was the typical cliche: two friends who had been skirting around their feelings throughout high school, mainly due to one garnering a reputation. 

Although, when you were with Steve, that’s all he was: Steve. Not overly cocky King Steve, not party keg master Steve; he was Steve Harrington, your best friend since preschool who always stole your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches because you hated them. The same Steve who would sit with you for hours in the backyard watching the clouds or the stars, listening to you talk about your superficial problems like they were an international threat of war. The Steve who was so terrified going out on his first date with Samantha Hollis in the sixth grade, he spent most of the morning excessively brushing his hair and gargling mouthwash in your bathroom while talking about his big first kiss plan — a conversation that later had your stomach turning and your dinner in the upstairs toilet. You hadn’t realized it at first, but you had fallen head over heels for your best friend. 

When you finally recognized and came to terms with your feelings for Steve in junior year, it had been too late. He had already started his “perfect” relationship with his dream girl: Nancy Wheeler. You had no malice toward the girl. In fact, you were both good friends. It was just hard to maintain that friendship when all the conversations ever gravitated toward was, well, your shared connection. 

“Steve and I were going to see that movie!”

“Oh, you’ll never believe what Steve said the other night.”

“Oh my god, isn’t he so clumsy? It’s adorable.”

Forced smiles and friendly nods became second nature for you. All you wanted was for Steve to be happy. If he was happy with Nancy, then you were happy for him. You had to admit they made an attractive couple. She was helping him in ways you never could, helping him succeed instead of just encouraging him to try and make a change. They were an unstoppable team. Steve didn’t need you anymore and you had to come to terms with it. You slowly began to distance yourself, just so you could sort through your feelings and not be awkward around them. It made things easier at first. 

Then Nancy broke his heart at Tina’s halloween bash. Suddenly you found yourself thrust back and immersed into Steve’s life once more. Only this time, you leaned into his touches a little more than usual. You two sat a bit too close at movie night. You split too many meals at the local diner. It was only when Dustin Henderson made a passing comment about how the two of you acted like an old married couple did you snap back to reality and attempt to distance yourself from Steve again. He didn’t need to lose the love of his life and another friend at the same time because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check. So you resorted to only hang around him with the kids when he needed to play carpool, taking them to the arcade, or the farmer’s market, or even the grocery store to pick up 

This only seemed to confuse your best friend. “Why aren’t you spending time with me?” he asked you when you brought El and Max to the mall over the summer. 

“What are you talking about?” you tried to appear nonchalant, like you weren’t doing this on purpose even if it killed you. Unfortunately, your poker face needed some much needed work. 

“No, no,” the look he gave you that day would haunt you forever. Steve looked like you had just kicked his puppy right in front of him. “Don’t bullshit me. You’ve been avoiding me all summer since we graduated. The only time I ever see you is with the kids and even then you spend more time with Dustin than me!”

It was true. After Dustin had oh-so-kindly exposed your emotions, you had somehow convinced the child to be your partner in distracting you from Steve. Well, it was less of a convincing and more of a “if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll lovingly end you” type of agreement. He stuck to you like Velcro when the three of you went out, making sure there were very few interactions that could lead into moments of longing. 

“It’s nothing, Steve,” you had tried explaining with no success. “Dustin just really wants my attention is all, I guess.” 

A frown on his face, Steve turned away mumbling something under his breath. You weren’t quite sure at the time, but it did sound oddly similar to, “he’s not the only one.”

It wasn’t until you found yourselves trapped in a Russian underground that you had to face more than one fear. Trapped in your own room, the soldiers tried to get you to admit how you found their base. They had even stabbed you with some type of drug, which you would only later discover its use. You couldn’t tell how long it was before you were released with the help of your best friend. Steve had looked so worse for wear, but even in the chaos, he was only concerned about your safety and well-being. 

“Are you okay?!” his slurred speech inquired as he ran hands up and down your arms before cradling your face. 

You weren’t sure if it was the stress or the inclusion of a truth serum in your system, but you did the only thing you could think of to answer his incessant questions: you leaned forward and kissed him. 

And he kissed you back. 

From that moment on, everything was different. You had gone from being best friends, to two people who went out to dinner, to being in an honest to goodness relationship. Just over a year later, you’re sat in your dorm room with a receiver broadcasting a busy signal in your ear. 

This was the sixth time this week Steve hadn’t answered the phone. He hadn’t called for his daily good morning or good nights. He didn’t call to check in on you during what he knew was going to be a stressful week. Concerned about his safety, you reached out to Dustin several times, who assured you that Steve was fine. He was just busy with all of the families renting out movies for the holidays. You knew you weren’t entitled to his time, but all the same…it had been a long week and all you wanted was to hear your boyfriend’s voice. 

Allowing a sigh to escape your lips, you dialed Steve’s number again, this time with the intent to leave a message. When the recording of his mother’s bored yet powerful voice played, you bit your lip to refrain from showing too much emotion over the phone. “Hey Steve,” you started. “It’s uh, it’s me calling…again. I just wanted to let you know that I, uh, that I miss you. Miss hearing your voice, seeing you. And I hope that you’re doing okay. Just a few more days until I can start my drive home and see you!” 

You let out a sad chuckle as there was a knock on your bedroom door. Your roommate, Allie, probably wanted to use the phone since you’d been hogging it for a few hours. “Oh, I gotta go. Call me back soon, okay? Love you.” As you hung up the phone, you moved to open the door. “Sorry, Allie. Just wanted to make sure-“

“Make sure I was doing okay?” A familiar voice cut you off and your breath caught in your throat.  You couldn’t believe it. Standing in front of you with rosy frost bitten cheeks, tired eyes, and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen was Steve. “I’d say I’m doing much better now that I’ve seen you, sweetheart.”

Without much thought, you ran into his arms and kissed him. And kissed him. And kissed him one more time, just for good measure. It was messy, all smiles and awkward breathing, but it was perfect. “What-“ you stuttered in surprise once you caught your breath. “What are you doing here? Why haven't you called?!”

Steve grinned sheepishly, head bent down to stare right in your gaze. A few strands of his perfectly unruly dark hair fell directly in his line of sight and you automatically moved your hand to brush it away. “I knew if I picked up the phone it would be really hard for me to keep my mouth shut. Did you really think I’d let my baby drive home alone for Christmas?” he said with mock disdain. “I don’t think that would make me a very good boyfriend, do you?”

“I have a car.”

“Yeah,” your boyfriend nodded in agreement, “but why waste gas if you’re not going to use it in Hawkins.” 

You frowned. What was he talking about? 

“Baby, you’re with the Harrington car service,” Steve’s smooth voice rolled over you like honey. “It’s door-to-door service, even during your trip.”

“….so you’re kidnapping me and not letting me drive my own car.” 

Steve gave a small huff, shoulders slouched. “Gee, when you put it like that…you really sucked the romance out of it, babe. You know I did just drive five hours-“

You silenced him with a gentle kiss to the lips. While not as rough or as passionate as the first reunion, it was just as loving. Your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his white Henley top and pulled him closer. He stumbled a bit from the action, but soon rested his hands on either of your hips, a low hum vibrating his throat. 

“I love you,” you whispered. 

The smile on Steve’s face stretched out to be a mile wide. “I love you, too, baby,” he replied, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Now come on. Let’s get you all packed up.”

You laughed at his dramatic hand gestures before he crossed his way into your room. “Your chariot awaits, my dear,” he mused, turning his head to glance back at you over his shoulder. “It’s time to get you back home for Christmas.”

====================

Author's Note: So this is happening. Is everyone excited?! To say I've been looking forward to this event for the last month plus now. I just want to give a small shout-out and thank you to two very amazing people, @bakerstreethound (for encouraging me to keep writing) and @upsidedownwithsteve (for inspiring me to try my hand at this -- so sorry for the tag!).

Writing this and some of the other fics for this event have me convinced Steve would be the perfect boyfriend around the holidays, even if he may be a bit of Scrooge sometimes. The number of times I've smiled writing these pieces...I've lost count. But stay tuned because we have a lot more headed your way (including some dad!Steve...)!

If you liked this post and want to see more like it on my blog, please make sure to leave a comment and reblog it! While likes are appreciated, it's these two things that really help spread the word about my writing and motivate me to keep making new content! Until next time, my little sparks! <3

[frostandflamesfanfic]

12 Days of Stevemas Masterlist

Event runs from 12/13 through 12/25

Day 1: Make It Back for Christmas (posting soon!)

Day 2: O Christmas Tree

Day 3: Take Me Home for Christmas

Day 4: TBA

Day 5: TBA

Day 6: TBA

Day 7: TBA

Day 8: TBA

Day 9: TBA

Day 10: TBA

Day 11: TBA

Day 12: TBA

So here it is, my brand new project/incredibly overdue 300 follower celebration event! If you came to my blog because of other non-Steve Harrington related stories, have no fear. I may or may not have some ideas up my sleeve. Now let's just hope I have enough time to write them, haha! In the meantime, I've tried to make each story as transferable as possible, so you can imagine your favorite characters in these fics instead!

Check back here for updates and to join the taglist! Full disclosure, I also haven't planned out the entire 12 days yet. So if anyone has any recommendations, I would love to see them in my DMs or ask inbox!

Taglist: @bakerstreethound

[frostandflamesfanfic]

Next Stevemas fic will be up in about an hour or so! It's a collaborative piece with a decent word count, so get yourselves and your popcorn ready.