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katyawriteswhump · 3 months

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the power of love (new steve whump/steddie/stobin fic)

Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Inspired by a prompt from the awesome @stevie-crow Mainly Steve and Eddie POV, but the prologue is Robin, as she’s central in this too.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

(also on AO3 here and as part of my steve whump fic series)

Prologue—Robin POV

“He’s gone!” In front of the trailer, Dustin sobs, cradling Eddie’s body in his arms. “He fought like Gandalf the White then sacrificed himself like Gandalf the Grey. He was the g-greatest hero—now he’s gone.”

“No. No way.” Steve rushes to Dustin, crouches beside him. “I know CPR. I got this.”

“What?” Dustin sounds more distraught than ever, tears dripping from his nose, spattering onto all that blood. Eddie’s blood. “Steve, what’s wrong with you? He’s. Gone.”

And Robin?

She stands there like a goose. Watching as the nightmare unfolds further, beneath that evil red-lightning-cracked sky. Not only, after all they’d done, is Vecna NOT apparently dead.

Eddie blatantly IS.

Tears blur Robin’s eyes. Dustin rocks Eddie’s lifeless body to the rhythms of his sobs. Nancy Wheeler—self-contained to the point of creepiness—stands beside her, stock still. Staring. Possibly trembling, though not as bad as Robin.

Steve, however, is still in the denial phase.

He’s gotten Dustin by the shoulders, jostling him away from Eddie. Physically dragging Dustin, then steering him toward Robin. Steve lays Eddie down flat, leans close over Eddie’s face, scrutinising for signs of life.

“Steve, you can’t help him.” Nancy sounds broken enough, reaching out. Not quite daring to touch Steve. “We’ve gotta get out of here. Let’s go.”

Robin kind of agrees with her. No way is she gonna back her up against Steve, though.

He brushes Nancy off anyhow. “I already brought two people back when I was lifeguarding. Neither were breathing. One’s heart was stopped.”

Nancy shakes her head. “The odds of even that are—”

“Christ, gimme space, Nance.”

Steve starts to administer CPR. Robin clings tight to Dustin, who clings back. She wants to close her eyes and deny any of this is happening, though… One miracle has already happened today, right?

That said, from what she’s gleaned from Dustin’s broken descriptions, Eddie’s sacrifice could’ve been the cause of said miracle. Ergo, it was not that miraculous. And possibly, all in vain. Either way, watching Steve work is killing her. He puffs into Eddie’s bloody mouth, then methodically crunches—possibly breaking—his poor ribs.

“Steve, enough!” says Nancy.

“No. I can do this.”

He squeezes Eddie’s nose, blows again into Eddie’s limp form.

“Steve, we—” Nancy gasps. Staggers back. Robin’s heart gives an actual jump.

“Eddie!” Dustin buries his fingers under his stupid little Ewok hood—was he supposed to look like an Ewok? She’s gotten no clue anymore—and throws himself forward, colliding heavily with Steve.

Robin’s witnessing her first undoubted miracle of the day.

Eddie’s eyes are open. He’s choking and spluttering blood and he’s... alive. Steve enfolds arms around him and raises him a little, tugging his collar, helping him breathe.

“I gotcha, Munson. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The next few minutes pass in the blur. Eddie vomits out a ton of blood, which makes Robin gag too, so that’s fun. Then, shakily, with Steve’s help, Eddie rises to his feet. He’s a ghastly, greenish-white and looks… like somebody who’s just died. Which is fair enough.

He’s still not said a word. Which is not very Eddie.

“Are we sure,” Robin whispers to Nancy, “whether Steve has actually revived Eddie or if he’s been possessed by some twisted ghoul from the Upside Down?”

Nancy replies with an exasperated glare. Steve, meanwhile, hooks Eddie’s arm over his shoulder and makes for the trailer, face set with a grim determination. Robin helps Dustin, who’s limping badly.

They struggle back through the ceiling. Back out of the Upside Down, and through the place where Chrissy was mangled to death.

“It’s astonishing I’ve not been barfing constantly the past few days,” murmurs Robin to Dustin.

Dustin sniffs, rubs his pink eyes.

They’ve just exited the trailer back home, when that earthquake shit hits the fan again. A massive, fiery fissure swallows the trailer whole.

...

Chapter 1

Eddie POV

He figures he must be in shock.

He has no clue how he got where he is—sitting on a posh couch, in some open plan fancy-pants living room. His eyes are wide open, have been for some time, yet only now is he actually beginning to really see anything, to take stuff in.

Robin is staring at him, like…

…like I just died or something!?!

Some decidedly disturbing memories trickle back.

Oh. Shit.

She jabs at him with an antiseptic wipe, which she’s trying to smear up and under his distressingly blood-drenched Hellfire club t-shirt. The wipe is cold and stings like a bitch.

“Uuuuh, Robin?” His throat is raw, his voice wrecked.

“Eddie!” She springs up off the couch.

“What the heck is going on?”

“It is you, right? You’re not possessed, or—”

“Noooo. I believe it’s lil’ old me. I… I’m goddamn confused and have a distinct memory of… choking on my own blood.” Explains the gritty gunk lining his mouth and his throat, the disgusting taste. “And then… then…”

He’s pretty damn sure he passed.

When he tries to remember that part… Nope, his brain don’t wanna, so he’s not gonna. He sure as hell recollects the not-entirely-unpleasant memory of Steve Harrington’s mouth plastered over his, marred by yet more gargling with blood, then…

“Okay, I’m gonna take on trust you’re you.” Robin doesn’t sound convinced. “So… Henderson was adamant you were dead, but then… Uh, you weren’t. Awesome as Steve is at CPR, let's assume you never really were, or that death happens differently in the Upside Down, or you weren’t as badly hurt as it seemed, or something along those lines, because… Uh, not like I’ve looked everywhere, as I think we’ve all been violated enough today, but…” She facepalms, reddening beneath her freckles. “Sorry… prattling. As I said, I’ve not checked you everywhere, but… Eddie, you don’t even seem that badly munched.”

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Cool?”

Robin gives him a glass of water, and he takes a sip. Wipes his mouth on a table napkin lying close then takes a glug. God, he’s never been so parched.

She settles opposite him, on another plush couch. “Does it hurt?”

Eddie puts down the empty glass and performs a brief body scan. Sticks his hand up his shirt, which comes back predictably bloody, but it’s gritty, dry blood. His wounds have pretty much knitted up. “No. Well, it’s kinda itchy. Um, Where the heck are we? This place isn’t yours.”

“No. It’s Steve’s.”

“You’re kidding?” Eddie’s voice comes out embarrassingly high pitched. “His parents see me, they’ll call the cops and—”

“Chill. His parents are out of town. They’re literally never here.”

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s… um… He said he fancied a swim. Go figure. Hey, you hungry?”

“Maybe some cereal,” mumbles Eddie, which is bullshit, because he’s not hungry. However, he’s starting to shiver, and he’s verging on losing his shit, and… he needs something to feel normal. He might as well try chewing cereal, because right now, he’s chewing his nails like he’s back in third grade.

I died. I goddamn died.

The glory of the Master of Puppets is way more of a distant dream than his recollections of being caught at the heart of that be-fanged whirlwind of death. That’s crystal-frickin’-clear. Those flapping fiends ripping into him, his defences faltering, his knees buckling… choking… drowning… the searing pain… and Dustin’s tears.

Crap, Dustin!

“There you go.” Robin dumps the packet on Eddie’s lap, a bowl and milk on a nearby glass table. “They only have the boring overpriced brands.”

Eddie stares stupidly at the packet. “Dustin… Is he okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s shaken. I guess we all are. Wheeler took him to get his ankle looked at. He’s… thrilled you made it. He thought you were a goner.”

Yeah. I was. I really, really was.

“Robin, how the heck am I here?”

Her mouth opens. Snaps it closed again.

The sliding doors open, and Steve steps in. Momentarily, the undiluted horror of Eddie’s recent existence evaporates. Steve looks mighty fine, dripping wet, his modesty preserved by a small-ish towel around his waist. There are scars around his throat, fresh ones piled upon the old, though really, nothing that spoils that super-hot torso…

…until he lifts the hand he’s clasped on his side, where the bats had gotten him when they went through Lover’s Lake. It’s soaked in blood. The white towel tucked beneath is slowly turning pink.

“Oh my God!” Robin launches at him, as he staggers forward, swaying slightly. “Why the hell did you think getting your wounds wet would help, dingus? There’s literally no logic there.”

“Jesus, it didn’t make anything worse. Swimming always… uh… clears my head.” She grabs him and steers him toward the seating area.

They’re almost there, when the whites of Steve’s eyes flash up. He crumples limply against Robin, who squeaks at the sudden weight, and slings him toward Eddie’s couch to break his fall.

...

Part 2

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Also now on AO3

#steve harrington whump #steddie #steddie fic #platonic stobin #stobin #stranger things fanfic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson lives #current wip

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ticklishraspberries · 8 months

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Ren Faire (Eddie/Steve)

Summary: Steve, Eddie, and Robin go to a Renaissance Fair and see some interesting demonstrations. (This fic is for my lovely friend @gigglyrambles!! I literally just pulled this whole plot out of my ass and wrote it in one sitting, so I really hope you like it, LOL. Also, shoutout to @wordstrings because I know she has written something similar for Our Flag Means Death, I hope you don't mind me taking inspiration!!)

Steve isn’t sure how he ended up being dragged along to a Renaissance Fair with none other than Robin and Eddie, but he found it hard to say no to either of their puppy dog eyes and incessant begging.

His outfit is simple, consisting of a white, long-sleeved shirt with laces at the neckline, tight brown pants, and brown boots. He feels only a little bit ridiculous, but after seeing what his friends are wearing, he supposes he isn’t the weirdest looking one.

Eddie is decked out in black, an intricately detailed top with ruffles and buttons. A fake sword sits in a holder on his waist. Robin has gone for a more masculine look, a cloak over her shoulders and a bow and arrow in her hand.

“Screw historical accuracy,” she’d said.

“The fact that you’re a girl isn’t the problem, it’s that you couldn’t hit a moving target with an arrow to save your life,” Eddie had teased, and Robin had elbowed him in the ribs, making Steve laugh.

Now that they’ve arrived, Steve has relaxed a bit. He used to feel out of place whenever he attended events that he wouldn’t have been caught dead at in high school. Corroded Coffin concerts, DnD campaigns, and that one time he drove Eddie and Robin to the nearest gay bar in Indiana. It had definitely been more awkward sober, and before he realized that he’s bisexual, and could have totally had more fun if he’d been aware of and okay with that information at the time.

He’s sort of glad he wasn’t, though, because kissing Eddie Munson during a childish game of truth or dare was a much funnier way to have your queer awakening, and dating Eddie Munson is way more fun than hooking up with random guys in a bar.

“They have really good beer here,” Eddie comments, to which Steve holds up his car keys and jingles them. No medieval mead is going to keep him from being the designated driver.

“I can drive us home,” Robin says, absolutely joking, but Steve still gives her a horrified look and makes a show of sliding his keys back into his pocket, patting the denim for safe keeping. She sticks her tongue out at him, and he flicks her cheek.

Eddie does end up getting some beer, and Steve allows himself a few sips. They’ll be here for at least a few hours, he’ll surely sober up by then. He also samples the gigantic turkey leg that Eddie gets, and Robin wrinkles her nose in disgust at the messy nature of the food.

As they walk around, Steve finds himself getting into the spirit more than he had expected. They eat, watch musical performances, and shop at the little stalls set up by various vendors. Eddie buys a few rings for himself, and buys a handmade mug for Uncle Wayne. Robin indulges in candles and soaps, and even dares to see a fortune teller.

“She said that I’ll meet my future husband soon,” she says, giggling. “Clearly she’s a fraud, or she’d know I’m not interested.”

When Robin runs off to find a bathroom, somehow, Eddie and Steve end up standing around a demonstration about medieval punishments and torture, which Steve expects to be gruesome, and quickly finds he would rather hear gritty, gorey details than stand her and watch this happen.

A pretty girl, probably around their age, is locked into a pair of wooden stocks, and—

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Steve mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Eddie looks absolutely delighted as he leans in close. “What’s wrong, Stevie? The demonstration isn’t bothering you, is it?” he asks. His cheeks are flushed, too. A few months ago, Eddie would probably be the one stuttering and staring at the ground right now, but ever since he introduced this little world to Steve, he’s gained a confidence about it that only comes out when he gets to tease Steve into oblivion.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up, I’m trying to watch. Maybe I can get some pointers from these guys.”

‘These guys’ refers to the two men who have started tickling the girl’s trapped feet, and frantic giggles fill the air and make Steve’s stomach flip.

“Oh, she’s handling this better than you would,” Eddie continues to tease. “I’d already be called every insult under the sun if you couldn’t kick me instead.”

“I will kick you right now,” Steve threatens. It’s a complete lie. He’s frozen to the spot on the grass, torn between watching and focusing on the grass. Everyone else in the crowd is behaving like this is so normal, no big deal, just a silly show.

One of the men has moved behind the girl to tickle her ribs, her arms secured above her head. Steve crosses his arms over his chest, subconsciously protecting his own sensitive spots, like just watching her could tickle him, too.

“You love that spot,” Eddie coos. “You make the cutest sounds when I tickle you there.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you,” Steve grits out.

“Sure you will, sweetheart. Can it wait ‘til after I’ve made you cry real pretty for me?”

Just then, Robin appears at his side. “This looks like my worst nightmare,” she says. “I hope this girl is getting paid well.”

Steve makes a noise of agreement, but can’t bring himself to look over. Eddie Munson is going to be the fucking death of him. Thankfully, Robin is immediately bored of the display and drags them off to explore. Eddie subtly gives Steve’s side a quick pinch as he walks past him, and Steve suddenly can’t wait to go home.

***

“You are a fucking menace,” Steve accuses the moment they’ve made it through the door.

His parents aren’t home, Robin was dropped off back at her house, and now, Steve is alone with Eddie for the first time all day, and he refuses to voice how excited he is for whatever Eddie’s got planned.

But Eddie just grins, tugging off the more elaborate pieces of his costume, leaving himself in socks, boxers, and a white t-shirt. He makes his way to the kitchen, comes back with two cans of beer, sits on the couch like he isn’t ignoring the clear tension in the room.

Steve gapes at him for a minute before joining him on the couch, kicking off his boots and taking a beer as well. Maybe Eddie’s changed his mind…Maybe he just isn’t the mood, and Steve isn’t going to pressure him into anything.

But…Well, he has a sneaking suspicion that isn’t the case at all.

“If you’re waiting for me to ask, it’s not gonna happen,” he says.

“Ask for what?” Eddie tilts his head curiously, but there’s a glint in his eye that proves Steve’s theory.

“Nothing,” Steve replies, playing along. “All that talk back there just made me think you had a plan for when we got home. But if you’re not interested, that’s fine too.”

“Did you want me to have a plan?”

Steve huffs. “Maybe. But if you don’t, then let’s forget about it.”

“Oh, c’mon baby,” Eddie says, throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him close. “All you’ve gotta do is ask if you want it so bad.”

His cheeks burn. Stubborn as ever, he shakes his head.

Eddie sighs with exaggerated disappointment. “If you insist. I guess I’ll just keep my hands to myself tonight…”

“Good,” Steve says, and turns the television on.

It takes two beers and a stupid scene in a film to break him. It’s a quick, barely there tickle, but the character’s laugh makes Steve perk up like a dog hearing a doorbell ring.

“Fine,” he says.

“What’s fine?” Eddie asks.

“Just fucking tickle me, you dick.”

Eddie grins and wastes no time, lunging across the couch and pinning Steve to the cushions.

“I knew you’d crack eventually, sweetheart,” he teases. “Sorry we don’t have quite the same set up, but I’ll hold you down real nice, okay?”

Steve is already grinning. He can’t help it, he’s so lovestruck by his boyfriend and desperate to laugh his head off. And laugh he does when Eddie goes straight for his ribs, scratching at the dips between each little bone.

“There’s that pretty sound,” he says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s jaw that is both sweet and ticklish under the current circumstance.

The stupid shirt with the laces is pulled over his head and discarded on the floor, and Eddie pins Steve’s wrists and tells him to stay still before exploring each ticklish spot on his torso, making him shriek and cackle and snort like a fool.

He doesn’t stay still for very long, arms shooting down to his sides when Eddie attacks his belly with blunt fingernails, and Eddie scolds him but doesn’t stop.

As he squirms on the couch, giggling like mad, he wonders if they sell some of those bondage contraptions there. He thinks that they should go back to the Ren Faire sometime.

#steddie #steddie ticklefic #steddie tickle fic #stranger things ticklefic #stranger things tickle fic #stranger things tickling #steddie fic #steddie fluff #stranger things #tickle fic #ticklefic #raspberry writes

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stobinesque · 9 months

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A Cure for All That Ails You 🥪

For Lex's Spicy Six Summer Challenge! Thanks so much for putting this together, @thefreakandthehair! rating: T | wc: 6k | cw: none | tags: Stobin, Fluff, Post-season 3 prompt: “How did you go through life so far without knowing how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?” I took inspiration from the recipe in this post when writing the fic. I have also been informed by my partner that reading this may, in fact, make you want a grilled cheese, so there's a recipe handy if you need to sate your hunger afterwards. [ READ ON AO3 ]

Light slants in through the window at too sharp an angle, and Robin blinks away the blurriness from her eyes. Her head is bent at an awkward angle, tucked into the crook of Steve’s neck. He’s snoring loudly in her ear.

Robin pushes herself upright on unsteady elbows. Most of the achiness in her muscles has faded by now. The worst of her injuries had been some whiplash, and the persistent ringing in her ears from the fireworks.

She looks down at Steve—his bruises are still healing, a mottled yellow-green painting his eye socket and cheekbone. That’s the least of it. She knows there’s worse hidden below the blanket from the cracked ribs he’d gotten up from the Russians.

It’s been five days.

Robin stares down at her hands where they’re folded in her lap. She squeezes them into fists. Stretches them wide. Tries to convince herself that she can connect sight and sensation to the fact of her body’s existence.

It’s been five days.

She’s alive.

Slotting herself back into the world that she’d known before she plummeted into the depths of the earth has felt impossible.

Though maybe that’s because there’s nothing left to slot herself into.

No school to return to, yet. No job to speak of—its remains a pile of rubble at the outskirts of town. No friends who know what happened.

No old friends, anyway.

There’s Steve.

He doesn’t quite feel like a friend though. He’s something…more. Something that exists beyond her understanding of what friendship or even love used to be. She’s never had a sibling—never wanted a sibling—and neither has Steve, so neither of them know enough to gauge if the weird, intense bond that’s sprouted between is sibling-like in nature. But it doesn’t feel like something so simple as that. She feels at once like she chose him, and like he was a gift to her from the universe.

It’s been five days. And he’s already the most important person in her life.

Robin sighs, and squeezes her eyes shut again, listening to the echoing silence of her house. It’s Tuesday. Her parents had taken the first few days after Starcourt off to help take care of her and Steve. Not that they were necessarily a huge help. But they’d made soup, and helped Steve with his bandages when needed. And it was just…nice to have them around. Their presence was grounding. Not so much because they were an especially calming pair, and more because their existence was so fundamentally at odds with the remembered atmosphere of the bunker and the tunnels, that seeing and hearing them made it almost impossible for Robin to forget where she was.

But today is their first day back at work, and the silence feels tangible. If she closes her eyes for too long she’ll be back in that cell, hands tied together, while a man spits sludge at her and asks what she knows; threatens to hurt her little friend if she doesn’t give up the intel he needs. Never touches her, never hurts her, but speaks with a glint in his eyes and a leer on his face that sets her teeth on edge and makes her stomach flip.

It’s been five days.

“Steve.” Her voice is hoarse, desperately scraping up her throat. She wants to hold his hand— rain bearing down, staring blankly at joined hands, linked fingers as her heart races—“Steve.”

Steve’s head rocks back and forth, and a small whine escapes him as he stretches and blinks against light. “Robs?” he voices is soft and slurry; it almost makes her smile.

“Morning, sleepy head.”

“Mmph.” He sits up, squinting heavily as he stares at her. His hair is all mussed, sticking up in every direction, and a thump of fondness beats in her chest, because she’s pretty sure that there aren’t many other people who get to see Steve “The Hair” Harrington without his signature coif. Maybe she should feel bad that she’s having such a stereotypical straight girl thought about it, but it’s not like she’s happy he’s in love with her or anything, it’s just…he’s hers now, and the way he’s trusting her like this makes her think that maybe she’s his now, too.

She’s never been another person’s favorite person before.

Her parents like her, sure. Love her, even. But she’s pretty sure she’s not their favorite person. She’s too anxious. Too loud, in the wrong ways, and never quiet in the right ones. She thought at one point she was Barb’s favorite person, but then Nancy came along and you can’t exactly ditch someone as easily as Barb ditched her if they’re your favorite person, right?

God, she needs to think about literally anything else right now.

“I’m hungry.”

Steve’s stomach growls the moment she says it. He scrubs a hand over his face and glares into the open air, like he’s offended his body has physical needs. “Me too, apparently.” He pushes himself upright, looking around the room. “‘time is it?”

Robin glances over at her clock. “Eleven.”

“Ugh. I want to sleep forever.” Instead, he pushes himself up and to a standing position. “C’mon, let’s go make some breakfast.” He reaches out a hand to her, and she accepts it with a decisive nod.

“That sounds like a great idea. Although I’m really more in the mood for lunch fare? At the very least something heartier than breakfast. Well, not heartier, because really a good breakfast should be pretty hearty since you’re eating for the first time in several hours and your body needs the extra boost. But, still, breakfast foods are so limiting, you know? Like, why are pancakes only a breakfast food? And eggs? I guess eggs can be an anytime food, but they’re usually a breakfast food, and for some reason there are some types of egg preparation that are extra especially breakfast-food-only. Like, who’s ever had an omelet for dinner, you know?”

“Robin.”

“Yeah?”

Steve stares at her for a beat, and for a second her heart rate kicks up—like going on some dumb little monologue about breakfast food is going to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and makes him realize he doesn’t want such a weirdo for a friend.

He smiles. “I love you.”

Robin thinks she should balk at that. He’d just confessed to having a crush on her five days ago. She doesn’t want them to go on with him carrying a torch for her that she’ll never be able to accept.

But… Well. Robin’s not exactly an expert on romance. Even less an expert on reading people. But she thinks she’s figured out the secret code to Steve Harrington, and he’s not looking at her with tortured, lovelorn puppy eyes. He’s looking at her like she’s the sun. Like she’s some miraculous thing. But there’s nothing romantic there. He’s not staring at her mouth, or her chest. He’s looking at her like she’s nothing more and nothing less than the best thing he’s ever seen, and like that would be true no matter what she looked like.

She shakes her head. Smiles. “Love you too, dingo.”

“That one’s new.”

Robin shrugs. “Just possibly watching you take a bunch of punches to the gut from Russian spies made me feel like ‘dingus’ was a tad unfair.”

Steve laughs. “I’m flattered, but you can call me dingus all you want.”

“Okay then, dingus. What’s for breakfast-lunch then?”

“I think that’s just called ‘brunch,’ Bobs. But, um…how about soup and grilled cheese?”

“Only if you’re cooking, or want cold cheese on toast.”

Steve stops in his tracks and turns to stare at her. “Robs…do you not know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?”

Robin shakes her head, feeling her cheeks warm a little. She’s more than capable of fending for herself when it comes to food. Can even cook a couple of staples. And she’s great when it comes to baking, and recipes with highly detailed instructions. But grilled cheese always felt like one of those kinds of things that are deceptively complicated. Like the fact that it’s supposed to be so simple is exactly the thing making it so hard. She was certain if she ever tried it’d come out a half-burnt, half-unmelted-cheese mess. “No…?”

“How did you go through life so far without knowing how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?” Steve looks genuinely distressed by this newfound knowledge.

Robin shrugs. “Never seemed important, I guess. Never really liked them when my mom made them, so I never bothered to figure out how, even once I realized that you can make them with cheese that isn’t glorified plastic.”

Steve gives her a despairing look. “Please don’t tell me your only experience of grilled cheeses have been ones made with Kraft singles.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you!” She says brightly.

Steve looks to be on the brink of tears.

“Hey…it’s okay, Steve. I promise you can pop my good-grilled-cheese cherry!”

Steve’s expression, if anything, grows even more pained. “Please, for the love of God, do not put it like that.”

Robin just grins at him, watching as he opens her fridge to take a look around. He rummages around for far longer than seems necessary for sussing out ingredients for a grilled cheese, but maybe he’s just taking stock of the contents for later? He comes back bearing all the cheeses currently residing in the Buckley fridge (sans the package of Kraft singles): a sharp cheddar, pepper jack, muenster, and swiss. He sets them down on the counter in front of them “Okay, pick one to three of these.”

Robin throws him a skeptical look, but points to the pepper jack and the muenster.

“Beautiful, okay. Now, lets see…” Steve sweeps his gaze across the kitchen, taking stock of the cabinets. He makes for the narrow one crammed between the stove and the sink, pulling it open to reveal the small stock of spices. He moans in disappointment. “I’m taking you grocery shopping after this. This is pathetic, Buckley. What do you all even eat?”

Robin shrugs, feeling a little self-conscious. “Mostly pasta, and sometimes roasted veggies, I guess?”

Steve turns to look at her, and his gaze is a little too sharp. A lot too knowing. The semi-judgmental look drops from his face, and is replaced by something more…tender? “Okay, yeah, me too, until I figured out how to cook for myself. My parents weren’t really into the whole ‘family meal’ thing.”

Robin shrugs. “Mine either.”

Steve looks surprised. “Really? But…I don’t know, they seem like they’d be into that kind of thing.”

Robin snorts. “What makes you say that?”

“Your parents seem to actually like spending time with you.”

“Do they?” Robin’s never gotten the sense that they hate being around her or anything. But sometimes she feels more like an inconvenient stray they took in than their kid.

Steve shrugs; stares down at his feet. “More than mine, anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Something tells me that’s not a high bar to clear.” Robin doesn’t know much about Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, but the fact that it’s been nearly a week since their son almost died and she’s seen neither hide nor hair of them speaks for itself. “But, no, my parents think that family meals and the ‘standard nuclear family’ are capitalist propaganda designed to create corporate drones who will destroy the planet. So. No family dinners. I don’t think it ever occurred to them that the reason some people do it is to have an organized reason to spend time with their family.” Robin tilts her head, considering. “Then again, they aren’t really into ‘organization’ in general.”

Steve nods with a small frown. “So…we both have fucked up parents, but in directly opposing ways?”

Robin hesitates. “I don’t know if I’d call them ‘fucked up,’ but they’re definitely not what you’d call functional parents, no.”

“Well, it’s a travesty that you’ve made it through 17 years on this planet without a proper grilled cheese, so I’m going to do the best I can with your meager offerings, and then we’re going to go shopping so that you’re armed to the teeth for any future grilled-cheese-making expenditures you may wish to embark on.”

Robin raises an eyebrow and shoots him a look. “I think Dustin’s rubbing off on you, buddy.”

Steve blinks and visibly plays back what he just said. “I don’t know where any of that came from,” he whispers in a joking panic.

Robin pats him on the shoulder. “It’s alright. Comes with the territory of befriending someone with an obnoxiously large personality.”

Steve grins at her. “Looking forward to it.”

Robin’s heart turns to goo and the smile she shoots back at him feels like it might split her face in two. “Me too.” Robin places her hands on her hips and turns to stare at the spice shelf. “Now, what exactly do you think we’re lacking on the spice front?”

“Robin, I don’t think we have time for me to list every single thing this cabinet is missing.”

“Fine, then tell me the things you wish were in it right now.”

Steve sighs. “Red pepper flakes, for one—although I guess if we’re using pepper jack for this it’s less important. It still makes me despair for the food you’ve been making before now that you don’t have it, though. And, uh…I guess herbs other than oregano and basil? Those are fine, but some variety would be nice, you know? Where’s the sage? The thyme? The rosemary? I guess we can go with oregano for now, though.” He pulls the jar from the cabinet and sets it on the counter. “Other than that I guess this is all we need for now— Oh!” Steve grabs the container of black pepper from the cabinet and adds it to his pile of ingredients. He keeps staring up at the cabinet, hands on his hip, and a small little frown on his face. "I’m still definitely helping you all stock up, because even if you’re just eating pasta and veggies you should still be using more spices than you’ve got here.”

Robin stares at him. “Steve Harrington…are you a cooking nerd?”

Steve’s head whips around and he stares at her, mouth agape. “No? What? Take that back right now!”

Robin crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head. “Nuh-uh. You are, aren’t you? You taught yourself a bunch of cooking tricks and have them all memorized. You can launch off onto little rants about flavor profiles and culinary technique, can’t you? I bet you have cookbooks stashed under your bed, or something.”

Steve fish-faces at her, waving an accusatory finger in her direction. “I’m…you…how did you know that?”

Robin laughs, delighted. “Genuine guess. But you do? Oh, that’s delicious. Becoming friends with you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The Steve Harrington lore is long and varied. You should be studied for science.” She throws her head back with a pleased cackle.

Steve is just staring at her, dumbfounded, a light dusting of pink on his face.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Steve shakes his head, and his eyes lose a little of the glassy quality they’d gained. “Nothing.” His hand reaches up to pinch at his nose for a second before falling away. “I just…do you mean that?”

“Do I mean what?”

“That being my friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

Robin blinks at him slowly. “Yeah? I mean the how of it wasn’t ideal, but even without the Russians we were already on our way here, right? The trauma just sort of…fast-forwarded it.”

“I…” Steve looks around the kitchen like he’s looking for an emergency exit. “Yeah. I guess.”

Robin feels her face fall. “Do you…do you not feel the same?”

“No! I mean, yes!! I just…” Steve rakes a frantic hand through his hair. “I’m not, uh, used to people liking me that much. I guess.”

Robin frowns. “What are you talking about, dingus? You were literally Hawkins Royalty!”

Steve huffs in frustration. “Yeah, but that’s not…being popular isn’t the same as people liking you, you know?” She doesn’t. Or, maybe she can guess, based on what he said in the bunker. But it still seems…wrong, somehow. Like everything she understood about the world is backwards.

Steve keeps talking, before her thoughts can spiral away from her. “Sure, I was popular. But my only actual friends were Tommy and Carol, and they…I mean, they weren’t bad friends, I guess? Terrible people, sure, but they were actually pretty…I mean, for all the fucked up shit…they always had my back?”

“Until you wanted to stop being a douchebag, you mean?”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah. I think they were…all three of us, really, were trapped in our own misery too much to let other people’s happiness pass without punishment. So I don’t think they liked when I tried to find some of my own.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.”

A part of Robin wants to ask What about Nancy? the question poised at the tip of her tongue. But he said himself that he’s not in love with her anymore. Robin’s not sure how much she believes that, because he seems pretty smitten whenever she comes up in conversation—not that it’s happened a whole lot in the week since The Bathroom. Then again, that’s also sort of how he talks about her, and Robin’s reasonably sure that his crush petered out about as quickly as it appeared. Once the drugs were out of his system he admitted that he hadn’t really thought of her like that until Dustin had suggested they’d be good together, and after her bathroom confession he realized that while he did love her, it wasn’t actually romantic.

She doesn’t know anything about how Steve and Nancy broke up, though. Doesn’t know what baggage is or isn’t there—maybe it was just a regular teenage break up; goodness knows she doesn’t trust the Hawkins’ rumor mill as far as she can throw it. But she does know that he didn’t offer any caveats to his initial declaration—I’m not used to people liking me—and Robin's not going to go around shining lights in dark corners unless he does so first.

Robin’s stomach growls.

“Okay, sappy hour’s over. I’ve got to eat something stat, or else I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

Steve shakes his head like he’s shaking loose cobwebs and leaps into action. He’s not finished gathering ingredients, though, apparently. He bustles around the kitchen until he’s added the butter bell, a few cloves of garlic, a loaf of bread, and a small jar of honey to his haul.

“What the fuck.”

Steve points in her direction with the spatula he’s materialized out of nowhere. “Just trust me, Bobbin.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Last time I did that I wound up trapped in an elevator to a secret Russian base.”

“Ouch.” There’s a genuine grimace of pain on his face.

“Too soon?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“Sorry.”

“No worries.” Steve turns to the stove, where he’s already unearthed and deposited one of the two frying pans in the house. “Now, let’s get started. First things first: the butter. The goal is to make the outside of the sandwich as tasty as the inside of the sandwich, so you’ve got to find a way to imbue the bread with flavor.”

Robin nods along. “Sure. What’s that got to do with butter?”

“You’re killing me, Buckley,” he says with a beleaguered little groan. He gestures to the frying pan. “First we’ve gotta imbue the butter with some flavor, so that the bread can soak it all up—which is part of why I wanted pepper flakes, but we’ll just have to make do with herbs and black pepper, I guess.”

Robin watches as Steve takes what seems like an obscene amount of butter and plops it into the pan, followed by a small handful of the oregano, a couple shakes of pepper, and a pinch of salt. “Okay, so now we’re going to turn the heat on—at low, we don’t want to burn anything—and we’re just gonna let that sit a bit until the butter melts and we start to smell the oregano on the air.”

“So…we just stand here and watch?”

“You can stir a bit to encourage the butter to melt a little quicker. But otherwise, yeah. Leave it alone. Let the butter and the heat do their thing together.”

“And then what?”

“Well, that should take about a minute or two, so now we can work on assembling our sandwiches. Sadly, you’ve only got Wonder Bread. Next time I’ll pick up a loaf of sourdough or something from Giant Eagle.” Steve waves the spatula through the air. “Or maybe we can make a quick loaf together.”

“Ugh, I hate baking bread.”

“…you know how to bake bread, but not how to make a grilled cheese?”

“…yeah? Baking makes sense. It’s just instructions.”

“I…yeah, okay, that makes sense.” Steve pulls a couple slices of bread from the bag, and starts spreading honey onto each one. “So what’s wrong with baking bread?”

“It’s sticky, and kneading the dough takes so much time, and it’s never the right consistency. I prefer, like, cakes and stuff. Brownies are perfect. Cookies are okay.”

“So: batter over dough, got it.”

“Exactly.” Robin joins Steve in spreading honey onto two slices of her own. “So, why the honey?”

“The sweetness adds some depth of flavor. Honey, butter, and cheese is a flavor profile without compare.” Steve stares in the direction of the pan. “Oh, shit, I forgot the most important ingredient! The garlic. Okay, drop what you’re doing. I should have thought to say this when I was talking about the herbs! The whole point is you want to get all your aromatics going at once, and what is garlic if not the world’s single most powerful aromatic? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing. But that’s okay, we can salvage this.” Steve grabs a couple cloves of garlic, a knife and just fucking…smashes the garlic with the flat of the blade.

“What the fuck…” Robin whispers to herself.

Steve just keeps moving like he isn’t getting up to absolute kitchen-wizardry, peeling away the papery skins from the cloves and tossing their mangled forms into the pan.

“We can give that another minute. The oregano might crisp up, but better to have crispy herbs and garlicky-butter than perfectly toasted herbs and sad, garlic-anemic butter.”

“I’ll just have to take your word on that, dude.”

Steve grins at her. “See, you do trust me.”

“Against my better judgment.” Robin deposits the second honeyed-bread slice on the plate in front of her. “Okay, what next?”

“Cheese!” Steve shakes out a few slices each of the pepper jack and muenster, layering them onto two of the four slices of bread spread out in front of them as the kitchen starts to fill with the scent of herbs and garlic. Robin’s cooked with garlic before, but usually she just chops it up and dumps it into the pot or pan along with everything else, so she’s never had the experience of smelling it on its own. She’s shocked by how much the scent makes it smell like a whole gourmet meal is already close to completion. She thinks back to every time she’s ever been over someone’s house while their mom was cooking and said something like wow, that smells great, Mrs. Johnson, and wonders if the only thing that’d actually been on the stove at that point was some garlic and herbs.

Robin shakes the thought from her head as she realizes Steve’s been monologuing. “…at this point you’ll want to turn the heat up a little.”

Robin nods again like she’s been following along this whole time. “Sure. Okay. Sandwich into butter, that makes sense.”

“Not sandwich time quite yet. Not a closed one, anyway. We want to be able to watch the cheese reach its melting point.” Steve drops two open-faced bread-with-cheese not-yet-sandwiches into the pan side by side, before reaching to turn the knob on the stove up to ‘5’. “Now we wait.”

Robin leans an elbow against the counter, staring intently at the sizzling pan. “How long?”

Steve shrugs. “Until the cheese starts to melt, or until it feels right. Some cheese melts more quickly, and some breads toast faster than others. You’re kind of aiming for the middle point of melty-cheese and golden-toasty-bread.”

Robin nods, and stares into the pan, fixated. Her grandmother’s voice floats through her head—a watched pot never boils, sweetheart. Robin knows it's an idiom, but she’s only ever had it said to her when she was literally watching a pot, waiting for it to boil. But Steve’s doing the same thing, watching as the garlic in the pan turns golden and crisp, and the butter bubbles and pops, and the edges of the bread begin to brown up.

Out of nowhere, she wishes there was music playing. She misses dancing around Scoops with him after close.

“What’re you humming?”

“Huh?” She hadn’t realized she’d been making any sound.

“The little,” Steve twirls a finger through the air and starts humming back at her, and Robin almost starts laughing.

“Apparently I was humming That’s What Friends Are For.” It had been on the songs on the closing mixtape they’d made together, but at the time she’d mostly added it as a joke.

Steve smiles at her, and it’s soft and cheesy, like the sandwiches sizzling away in the pan. He picks up the melody from her, extending a hand for hers.

“Steve, I’ve got two left feet.”

“Yeah, I know that, Robs,” he says, long-suffering, and takes her hand into his anyway. He resumes his humming, and yanks her into a little slow dance, spinning her around the kitchen like they’re two newly-weds, or care-free teenagers at the prom, blissfully unaware there are portals to hell beneath their feet. Except they’re better than that: two best friends dancing in the kitchen together after saving the world, while one of them teaches the other how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

Robin takes over humming some of the lines when she thinks the song switches over from Dionne to Elton or Stevie—which she can’t quite bite back a snort at, when the thought drifts through her mind—and they carry on like that. They’re probably not really following the progression of the song, because neither of them are actually singing, but Robin has snatches of the lyrics running through her head as she concentrates on not stepping on Steve’s feet, and letting herself be dramatically dipped at odd intervals.

Steve hums the melody that Robin thinks matches up to knowing you can always count on me, and she finds herself leaning her head against his chest. His arms come up to wrap around her, and she burrows herself into his embrace. There are stupid little tears welling up at the corners of her eyes, but it barely even phases her. She feels no need to reach up and dash them away before someone can sniff out the sign of weakness. It feels silly, almost, to be so worked up about dancing around the kitchen in her sock-feet with this boy she’s barely known for a month, tentatively liked for a few weeks, and has loved for all of seven days. But that’s where she is, and she doesn’t think there’s any place she’d rather be.

Eventually Steve’s voice tapers off, and he slows them to a stop in the middle of the room. She stares up at him, her vision still a little blurry with tears. Steve’s looking down at her like she hung the moon, and leans in to press a kiss to her forehead. It sends the new tears spilling over, and she collapses back into him. “I’m so glad you made it out of there, dingus,” she says into his chest, right over his breastbone, his heartbeat thrumming against her lips.

“Yeah, me too, Bobby.” He squeezes his arms around her tight.

“…do you think the grilled cheeses are done now?” Her voice is still muffled from her face being buried against his chest. For all that she’s been swept away by emotion, she’s still really hungry.

“Mmm, well, it’d be hard for them to be done with only one slice of bread, but they might be ready to close and flip.”

Steve gently disentangles them and shuffles back over to the stove. The cheese does seem to be nicely melted now, and Steve hums in satisfaction, closing each sandwich with the other two honeyed slices of bread, before taking up the spatula again, and flipping each one with a little flourish. Robin cuts her eyes at him “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

Steve smirks. “Are you not?”

“Remains to be seen, Harrington. You might be all flair and no substance. The proof is in the pudding.”

“Well, they should be done in another few minutes, so you’ll get a chance to taste for yourself.”

The bread of the cooked side of the sandwich facing up at them is nicely crisped. Buttery and golden—almost brown in the center, and along the edges—and Robin can feel her mouth watering. She won’t say it until she knows for sure, but it certainly looks like one of the best things she’s ever tasted. She wants it in her mouth immediately.

“Cooking involves so much waiting,” she whines.

“So does baking.”

“Yeah, but unless you’re making bread, all of the waiting happens at the end. With cooking you’ve got all these mini waiting times: you’ve got to wait for the water to boil, or the pan to heat. You have to wait for something to cook the right amount before adding the next thing. You have to wait for the actual thing you’re cooking to cook enough on one side and then you’ve got to flip it and wait that same amount of time for it to cook evenly on the other side. It’s maddening! I don’t know how you do it.”

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitch. “I guess I’ve never thought of it like that. And it’s different with something like this, because this is pretty low on prep work. But with most things you always have stuff you can be doing during the waiting times. You have vegetables to chop, or you can get a head start on washing the dishes you used. If whatever you’re making involves having two pans or pots going you can time it so that you’re always doing something in at least one dish. And a lot of stuff involves active waiting. Like, you’ve got to stir the pot every now and then, or you have to slowly add something to the pan. And, I don’t know, I kind of like the pace of it. Having to keep track of all the little variables. It’s soothing.”

Robin squints at him. “You’re a weirdo, Steve Harrington.”

“Am not!”

“Are too! You’re a tiny little weirdo, who managed to convince the entire populace of Hawkins that you’re a cookie-cutter little rich boy. I’m almost impressed.” Robin pokes him in the chest. “You’re a weirdo, and a nerd, and a dork, to boot!” She’s grinning so wide again her cheeks ache. “And you’re my favorite person.”

“Well you’re my favorite person and you are also a weirdo, so there!”

“Stevie, I think we all already knew I was a weirdo.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” Steve picks up the spatula again and carefully shuffles the sandwiches from their warm, buttery home. “Stuff your face so I don’t have to hear you yap any more,” he says. There’s a touch of faux-annoyance in his tone, but there’s no edge to it, and Robin can see a smile just as wide as her own plastered on his face.

“Okay, gimme the goods, Harrington.” She makes grabby hands at the chipped plate he’s deposited the first sandwich onto.

“Alright, alright, hold your horses.” Steve hands the plate to her, finishes scooping his own sandwich from the pan, and turns the heat off. He stares down at the plate in his own hand with a considering look. “I think we can skip the soup; I’ve already spent too much time talking your ear off about the grilled cheese. If I have to walk you through making soup, we’ll be here all week.”

“I know how to make soup!” Robin squawks, a bit offended.

Steve casts another despairing look at the spice cabinet. “See, somehow that’s worse.”

Robin sticks her tongue out at him. “Rude.”

Steve holds up his free hand in surrender. “Hey, I’m just of the opinion that if people are taking the time to make food for themselves it should taste good.”

“You've had soup here before!”

“Yeah, and I’ve also been concussed all week!”

“Rude!” She shouts again. She flaps her hands in his face. “And, I’ll have you know that my French onion soup is amazing!”

Steve narrows his eyes. “I cannot accept that. There is no thyme to be found here.”

“What is your obsession with thyme?”

“It’s not an obsession! It’s a spice cabinet staple!”

“Ugh, whatever. Let’s eat before I murder you out of sheer hunger.”

“I don’t like the link you’re making between those two concepts.”

Robin pats a hand on his cheek as she walks past him to the tiny table tucked against the kitchen wall. “Don’t worry, babe. The giant meat monster put me off of cannibalism.”

“Thanks,” he mutters after her. “That’s so comforting.”

Robin folds herself into one of the vinyl chairs at the table, and Steve drops into the one across from her. She picks the grilled cheese up off the plate with careful fingers, grease immediately welling up from the soaked bread and running down her fingers.

It smells…divine, actually. The bread is perfectly crisp, and she can smell the garlic wafting from it. She leans forward to take a tentative bite, careful of burning herself, and can’t bite back the full-throated moan that pours out of her. Garlic and honey break out across her tongue, followed by the heat of the pepper, and the fatty goodness of the cheeses. “Oh my God,” she groans, fully ignoring the etiquette of waiting to swallow before talking as she speaks around her mouthful. “I’m in love with you,” she says to the sandwich, and she thinks she’s going to cry. There might be actual tears welling up again. This sandwich is better than most orgasms she’s hand—and sure, maybe she doesn’t really know what she’s doing with herself on that front, but up until this moment she also didn’t know what she was doing when it came to making a grilled cheese sandwich, so it feels like a totally reasonable to comparison.

“So…you like it, huh?”

Robin’s head jerks as she tears her gaze away from the sandwich and looks over at Steve, who has a giant, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh, shut up, asshole.”

“I’m not the one practically orgasming at the table, Bobs.”

“Am not.”

“You definitely are. I’m flattered, really. I didn’t realize my prowess extended this far.”

Robin flaps a hand in his face. “Ew, disgusting! Stop that!”

Steve throws his head back and cackles. “Oh my god, the look on your face!” He reaches up to wipe away a stray tear, and tilts his head back down to shoot her a fond look. “Seriously, though, I’m glad you like it.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but smiles at him anyway. “Yeah, thanks for making it, dingus.”

Steve smiles right back. “Anytime, dingo.”

Robin takes another bite. In this bubble of space, with a song on loop in her head, a smile on Steve’s face, and the taste of the world’s best grilled cheese on her tongue, Robin thinks that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be alright.

#lexssummerfanworkschallenge #stobin #platonic stobin #stobin fic #stranger things #read writes #6k of stobin being absolute doofuses

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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emmy, i think you’d nail modern!steve trying to navigate bereal. like, i think he’d be so stressed once that notification goes out that he drops whatever (or whoever 🤭) he’s doing to make sure he gets his photo in on time.

also, feel free to ignore this since it isn’t necessarily a request per say, but i don’t know, i think it could be something funny to write about if nothing else is tickling your fancy

love, ali :)

Honestly, for someone who didn’t fuss with Facebook or Snapchat, or any other popular social media, Steve was really into BeReal.

Max and Lucas had shown him, explaining how the app worked as Eddie rolled his eyes on the couch behind them, telling them all how it was just another ploy from the government, the big guys wanting to know what everyone was up to at all times.

Steve downloaded it anyway.

His uploads were innocent enough, the usual kind of boring shots that everyone was grateful for after years of living through a real life horror movie. Photos of him and Robin at work, their cheeks squished together as they stacked shelves, an empty storefront before them.

Dinner with you, his smiling face in one photo, you beaming back at him from across the table in the other. Dimly lit images of you on his lap, sitting on the hood of Steve’s car in the dark, the moon hitting the lake in front of you both. These kinds of photos were always met with blurry reactions from the kids gagging, Max usually mid eye roll and Robin’s middle finger.

Steve would get flustered when the notification came through, usually at the most inconvenient times. But Dustin would call him out whenever he posted too late, resulting in an argument only you could put an end to, most of the time with folded arms and a disapproving stare sent to Steve.

“Really, babe? He’s sixteen.”

But it meant that Steve got a little bolder with his photos, snapshots taken at the most inappropriate moments, starting small with him and Eddie in the cinema, the accidental flash illuminating the people behind them both, all glaring at the camera lens. Eddie was mid popcorn chew, looking disgruntled and caught off guard. Then there was the traffic stop, Steve’s cell in his lap as his camera caught his chin and the line of his jaw as he spoke to the unsuspecting cop who was giving him a warning for speeding.

The group chat exploded the night he posted a photo of his black eye and bloodied nose, the front camera catching the end of his baseball bat on the ground, covered in a substance no one really knew what to call, but the nails glinted in the low light and El’s sneaker could be seen in the corner. Luckily, the body of the rogue demodog was just out of shot.

“C’mon, I barely have anyone but you guys on the app,” Steve had countered.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when you were on top of your boyfriend one day - messy haired and topless, black bra strap hanging from a shoulder - that he reached for his phone on the nightstand when it pinged.

“Steve Harrington, you better be fucking joking,” you’d said, deadpan.

The boy grinned, pink cheeked and lips kiss bitten as he tried to catch his breath from when you’d stolen it with your mouth on his throat. He shrugged and shook his phone.

“C’mon, I’m proving a point,” he murmured, voice lilted and soft, teasing. He ran a warm hand down the expanse of your chest, over the dark lace and across the stripe of skin above the hand of your shorts. “Babe. Baby.”

“Proving a point to who? Dustin?” You laughed, squirming when Steve poked at your ribs, grinning when he groaned at the movement of you over his lap. “The boys know you’re not a virgin, babe, it’s okay.”

Steve huffed and tried not to let his cheeks warm at your words, holding the phone up even when you still laughed. But he waited, brows raised expectantly, his smile a little smug.

“Fine,” you huffed, rolling your eyes at the pleased expression on his face as he stayed against the pillows, grin wide, eyes a little hazy, hair a mess from your tugging fingers.

He snapped the photo just as you covered your face with both hands, thighs still splayed over his hips, your bare stomach on show and your own exasperated grin showing through the gap in your palms. If people looked close enough, they’d see the lavender and rose coloured marks on your neck, the one just hidden by your forearm on your chest.

The group chat turned into chaos mere minutes after, the kids calling for Steve to be banned from the app, Nancy trying to explain that nobody needed to see that, and god, it’s the middle of the day, guys! Eddie called you both animals, Jonathan made an offhand comment about the composition of the photo, Robin said she was blocking Steve and Argyle sent ten thumbs up emojis.

…

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #Steve baby blurb

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avrilsky · 2 years

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Robin and Steve getting an apartment together (cause those motherfuckers are codependent and are also platonic soulmates). It's one of the few places they can be themselves. A tiny two bedroom apartment with clashing decorations and mismatched furniture, a little kitchen with one too many coffee mugs and too few spoons, a fridge filled with more bottles of beer than actual food but they love it all the save because it's Theirs.

The kids are there more often than not, filling the small space with laughter and the sound of dice rolling along a wooden table. Their couch is a bed most nights for one kid or another trying to escape their parents or the thoughts in their head.

Max stays over the most, usually on nights her mom is so drunk she barely remembers her own name, let alone Max's. Some nights it's just because Max had fallen asleep during movie night and neither Robin nor Steve had the heart to wake her, they'd just tuck her in with a blanket from the back of the couch and leave the light on in the kitchen for her. Robin cooks her breakfast in the morning and Steve makes sure she makes it to school on time. They barely see themselves as functioning adults, they have no idea how to take care of a teenager, but they try their best, try to give the care they wished their parents had shown them to Max, to all the kids really. And they aren't really sure they're doing a good job but it's more than enough for Max.

Nancy claims the lone armchair and the coffee mug stolen from the diner in town as her own. She keeps a yellow legal pad and her favorite pen under the coffee table for when she's over and working on a story for the newspaper (Robin doesn't allow any of the kids to use it for d&d). Nancy makes sure Robin and Steve eat more than pizza and frozen TV dinners. She buys them fresh fruit and veggies, and teaches Steve how to put together a simple salad. Even before she and Robin officially start dating whenever Nancy stays over, she and Robin share Robin's bed, always starting off on opposite sides of the bed only to be wrapped up together by morning, blushing bright red as they separate themselves. They share their first kiss in the tiny kitchen, the taste of beer and popcorn on their lips, Nancy gripping the collar of Robin's denim jacket and pulling her in.

Will finds them like that, smiling into a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. In her shock, Robin shoves away from the counter, away from Nancy, slamming her back into the fridge with a mumbled fuck. They expect to find him staring at them with disgust, with barely concealed hatred but instead he looks relieved, like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He steps forward looking taller than Nancy ever remembered him being, looks at both of them and smiles. "I thought I was the only one who was different." Nancy pulls him into a hug and Robin grins at her over his shoulder.

Eddie usually lounges on the floor in front of the tv with Dustin during movie nights. He leaves one of his old guitars there and plays everyone a song or two when they are just sitting around drinking beers. When he spends the night, he sleeps in Steve's bed while Steve camps out on his bedroom floor, silently cursing himself for not working up the courage to slide into bed next to Eddie, for not taking his hand when their fingers brushed as Steve handed over a pair of sleep shorts.

Steve and Robin take care of one another when one of them is having a bad day. A warm blanket straight from the dryer draped over slouched shoulders, whatever movie is their comfort flick at the time popped into the vcr. Robin makes Steve a pot of homemade chicken noodle soup, the only thing her mom taught her to make and it somehow becomes Steve's comfort meal. Steve makes Robin a slightly burnt grilled cheese, poking Robin in the ribs when she teases him about it being burnt even though she secretly liked those little burnt bits. They spend the day like that, watching movies or talking their feelings out.

More than once Nancy let herself into the apartment with the key Steve had given her to find her girlfriend and her ex cuddled together on the couch, sleeping peacefully, Steve tucked under Robin's arm. And it used to make her jealous back when she still thought Robin and Steve were together, back when she wanted nothing more than to be the one Robin held like that. Now though the sight made her heart soar as she smiled softly down at them, happy they had each other.

Just the potential of Steve and Robin sharing an apartment together.

#shared apartment au #robin buckley #steve harrington #ronance #found family #slight steddie #sarah rambles

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fastcardotmp3 · 11 months

Text

The White Rabbit (Part 1/3)

Because Eddie does a headcount.

And there are five people, not four, standing at the bottom of this dried up lake, and one of them is tearing the final bat in half with his bare hands.

Robin chokes, hunches over and vomits straight onto the ground.

Fair enough, considering they’re looking at Steve Harrington.

Fair enough, considering they’re looking at a dead man.

read on ao3 | playlist

steddie - 17k words - rated M excerpt under the cut

“I’m,” Eddie clears his throat, which has Robin looking at him closely, “I’m. Cashing in on it.”

Steve’s shoulders slump, unimpressed deadpan to his tone as he repeats, “cashing in on it.”

“Yep,” Eddie grins as smarmy and smug as he can. “You, Steve Harrington, owe me a favor. In case you forgot.”

“Since when?” Steve makes a face, all scrunched towards the center with befuddled disbelief like Eddie has just said something of personal offense to him.

Eddie, for his part, can’t help but grin when Steve makes that face.

“Since forever, probably,” he shrugs, “who cares, but you definitely owe me for something at some point since you’re, y’know, a fuckin’ bastard and a half, so I’m cashing in.”

Steve stares him down, scowl only growing as Eddie stares at him right back with a closed-lipped smirk of a grin, Robin looking between the two of them like she’s watching a tennis match for all of three seconds of silent communication until she’s snorting, throwing her hands up, and walking in between the two of them with the declaration—

“I’m taking my ten. Or, like, my however long this takes.”

She waggles her fingers at Steve in a little wave and Steve, in return, rolls his eyes in a way that’s far too fond for the interaction, but which makes sense with the synced-up movement as Robin disappears into the back through the door and Steve hops through the window and take her place up front.

A well-oiled machine, the two of them, but not the point of Eddie crashing their work day.

“Do I actually owe you a favor or is this your way of telling me you got new stock in?” Steve leans forward onto his hands at the counter in the same moment when Eddie leans back with the cross of his arms over his chest, flannel tied around his waist swaying with the motion.

“I mean, you definitely owe me a favor,” Eddie shrugs, “but both things can be true.”

“You realize I pay you, right? With cash?” Steve snarks, and it’s such a thing with him, tone, that Eddie feels like he’s constantly relearning how to read the book of Harrington, the layers of distaste and amusement and genuine good guy syndrome hidden somewhere underneath. “Is that not favor enough any-fucking-more?”

“Oh, dear Steve,” Eddie smirks, forces it out despite the roll of his gut that he’s chosen to ignore for now and also forever thank you very much, “the money is for the good shit, but you helping me fix the rail on my porch is for, y’know, the kid tax.”

Steve makes a face. He’s kind of the king of making faces, and faces that work their way between Eddie’s ribs specifically, but this isn’t something Steve’s gonna win with a quirk of the brow and a frown to his lips.

The kid tax is Eddie’s own personal self destruct mode after all– the kind designed to take anyone in the remote vicinity down with him– it’s all his fear wrapped up in a set of rules that no one but him knows in their entirety and it affects Steve Harrington’s drug habit pretty exclusively.

Steve is all reluctant exasperation in a little hat as he all but actually rolls his eyes at Eddie. He looks away, looks everywhere except Eddie’s eye, and grumbles, “I get off at six.”

The most telling part about that?

Eddie hasn’t really won either.

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#dot fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie stranger things #WR fic #I've been banging my head against the wall about this fic for months it's yours now BYE gotta start part 2

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stvharrngton · 1 year

Note

💌 for stevie with prompt 4 from list 3 🤍 something about the way your name sounds next to his makes him feel giddy and soft. DEFINITELY writes your name out with his and daydreams about it all the time. also harrington is a hot last name ☹️ give me it.

-bella <3 @pouringmyheartoutforpaper

a/n: this concept is so cute i almost died writing this 😭 thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy my love! <3

pairing: steve harrington x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

word count: 1k

warnings: none, lots of fluff, best friends to lovers, mutual pining

prompt: asking them how your name + their surname would sound like (or/and vice versa)

taglist: @sweetiestevie @dukesmebby @sw34terw34ther @sweetbabygirlsworld

1k celebration

“Do you ever wanna get married, Steve?”

Steve knew his answer before you could even finish asking the question. He’d known for a while now, his views on marriage skewed by his parents less than adequate example of a successful marriage.

But you. You had changed his view entirely. The idea of forever with someone now sounded rather nice. Especially if that someone was you. Obviously, you had no clue about his feelings towards you, oblivious to the way he stared at you so dreamily when you weren’t looking. No idea about how he dreamed about spending the rest of his life with you.

Steve Harrington was totally, and utterly in love with you.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking a sip of his milkshake, “don’t know if I could find anyone to put up with me, though.” Steve said it with a light chuckle, though his features turned glum.

You wrinkled your nose at his response, chewing on your fries thoughtfully.

“I think you’d make a great husband, Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, eyes lighting up at your statement. Lips tugging towards his cheeks, a toothy grin spreading across his face, “You think so?”

You returned his grin with a soft smile of your own, your hand reaching over the table to lace your fingers with Steve’s, like you often did, “I know so.”

Steve felt like his chest was caving in, his brain short circuiting at your words, your hand in his, everything. You gave his hand one final squeeze before turning your attention back to your fries.

You left him in a daze, warm brown eyes blinking straight ahead. Mouth hanging open just a little, his heart thumping against his rib cage. The boy only snapping back to reality when you’d asked him a question, your finger prodding his hand when he hasn’t answered.

“Huh?” His eyes flitted back to yours, your brows pinched together, “Sorry, what did you say?” Steve mumbled.

“I said, do you think our names would sound good together?” You stated, matter of factly. As if it was a perfectly normal question to ask your best friend.

Steve quirked an eyebrow at you, not sure he fully understood your question. Or rather, he didn’t want to jump the gun and read too much into it.

“I… what—?” He stammered, his tongue not able to form any words, “What do you mean?”

You giggled at the poor boy’s confused stare, rolling your eyes playfully, “I mean, like, if we got married, would our names sound good together?”

Steve almost choked on his milkshake, eyes bulging out of his head as he answered almost a little too quickly, “Yeah, I think so.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, a cute pink flush sprinkling across your skin at Steve’s reply. It was your shameless attempt at flirting, sneakily trying to gauge his reaction and whether there was any truth behind Robin and Eddie’s teasing.

Your booth was silent for a beat, the noise of the diner flowing around you both. You and Steve sat there with warm cheeks and pursed lips, both trying to hide the grins you couldn’t help sport.

“I’d take your last name though, right?” Steve spoke, a light teasing to his tone.

“What? No way!” You squealed, swatting at his shoulder from across the table, “I’d be taking your last name, Harrington.”

You both leaned on the table by your elbows, your faces inches away from each other. You and Steve always seemed to gravitate towards one another when alone but never able to cross that theoretical line.

“Yeah?” Steve asked, flashing that same grin that was reserved just for you, “That sounds nice. I like that.”

Steve would be lying if he said he’d never thought of it before, never imagined his name next to yours. In reality he dreamt of it constantly, doodling your names next to one another in the back of his notebook when his mind lost focus on the task in hand.

“Me too.” You breathed, eyelashes fluttering up at the boy innocently.

“Shall we get out of here?” Steve asked, his voice soft and quiet in the busy diner. His heart hammered against his chest, his palms clammy against his own thighs.

You nodded as Steve moved to dig out his wallet, chucking a couple bills on the table as you exited the diner side by side, his arm slung around your shoulders. Steve walked you to the passenger side of his Beemer like always, opening the door for you and closing it behind you.

The tension between you had changed, something in the air had shifted since your playful flirting in the diner. Something lingered in the space between you both, something new, something exciting. A long awaited confession on the tips of your tongues.

Steve pulled up outside of your house, pulling up the parking brake. You moved to get out of the car, having said your goodbyes, your feelings for Steve being stuffed back down as he stayed silent, a nervous look on his face.

He sighed as he watched you walk to your front door, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel, “God, what are you doing, Harrington?” Steve mumbled to himself.

And with that he was out of the car in a flash, door slamming behind him as he ran after you, “Hey, wait up!” he called out after you.

“Steve? Wha—“ you were cut off by his lips crashing to yours. His large warm palms cupped your cheeks so softly, the tip of his nose pressing into your cheek as Steve kissed you hard.

Your breath hitched in your throat, your hands resting on his firm chest. You were both panting as Steve broke the kiss, his forehead resting against your own as you both started to giggle at each other.

Steve sighed contently as he brushed his lips against yours once more, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He spoke against your lips.

“I think I do, Stevie.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfic #k.fic #request #stvharrngton1k

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hitlikehammers · 8 months

Text

For @embersonfiredeux, who wanted a little coffee shop AU.

Steddie 🦇 Modern Coffee Shop!AU ☕️

✨🦇✨☕️✨

It was actually almost the reason he lost a shot at the job in the first place.

(‘We almost lost a shot at the job, Dingus,’ as Robin never fails to remind him, and while he appreciates the fact of it—they’re a package deal, ride or die, hell or high water—he still believes he’s in the right.)

Know why he’s in the right?

Because he fucking counted, took over Robin’s not-so-secret mini whiteboard swiped when they left the ice cream place years ago, that last summer of high school, and made fucking notes, and he can say with absolute certainty: 9 out of 10 customers, whether grabbing a seat or hitting the drive-thru, get their coffee orders in to-go cups. Disposable, reusable: doesn’t matter. Either way, they’ve got a goddamn lid on them.

So: you know what’s entirely superfluous?

Latte art.

Because you can’t fucking see latte art under a goddamn lid. Flat out idiocy. And hell, since they’re cogs in the capitalist monstrosity: it’s also inefficient, which is probably the greater sin.

Also, if they’re driving? Not contributing to a distraction which requires dismantling a hot beverage and operating a motor vehicle at the same time is a goddamn public service and Steve should honestly be commended, gold star, at least employee of the month for like three consecutive months on that account.

Definitely should not have almost been told to hang up his apron in the first week when he refused to learn how to make the foam just right, to dribble it onto the espresso in the shape of a wobbly looking leaf.

They’re desperate though, and short staffed with the start of a new semester at the university he and Robin are both slogging through grad programs at, so where Robs makes flawless hearts for all the pretty girls, Steve gets the stink eye from his manager for three whole weeks before it’s largely forgotten.

And honestly, that’s the only thing he sees anyone use the fucking skillset for. Showing off—with varied levels of success—in the interest of flirting.

Steve doesn’t need milk drawings to help him fucking flirt Jesus.

And he still does not need little lactose doodles on his side to let someone know he’s interested, thanks very much; he just…starts to consider the benefits of it, when the hot fucking mess of chains and ink with the wild curls and dimples starts showing up.

First, Steve thinks the guys might be the bane of his existence. He comes in every morning—mid-morning, doesn’t seem like a morning person and orders something different every day, and does it in the most annoying fucking way: a flat black with milk foam; a flat white with extra milk and ‘superfluous levels of foam on top, if you’d be so kind’; a latte, ‘please, but if the amounts of milk and foam and foam could be, like, measured totally equal that’d be swell’.

Steve’s tempted to fuck up his latest request on purpose—‘just a macchiato but can you add some chocolate, maybe, and like a little extra foam?’—when Robin elbows him in the ribs and almost makes him spill what was gonna be a plain fucking americano, not ‘hey, would it be possible to make an americano but like almost no extra water and whipped cream on top?’, no matter how big this douchecanoe stretches his eyes all wide and pleading and shit, but then Robin’s hissing at him:

‘He’s trying to flirt with your dumb ass, open your eyes to the doe ones staring at your every goddamn move!’

Steve stills. Chances a glance out the corner of his eye and: oh.

Oh, douchecanoe is staring. Like, staring staring.

And Steve…feels. A way. About it.

Because douchecanoe is…watching—staring—like he’s trying a little bit, but not too hard, to be surreptitious about the whole affair and it’s overcast, probably like mid-60s outside; no reason for the little flush under the fluorescents save for…what he’s not being particularly surreptitious about.

So Steve changes tactics.

Turns out the inventive ways of ordering that had been driving Steve nuts for weeks were attempts he was too oblivious to notice at creating extra moments for chit-chat. And now that Steve’s paying attention? When they’re slammed and the guy comes in, he orders like a normal person. Quick, painless, sits in the same corner by the window and scribbles for a couple hours.

Huh.

But when it’s dead in the store, the guy makes small talk, and Steve learns he’s in the band who plays Fridays at the bar Steve likes just off-campus, too far for most undergrads and enough of a vibe that Steve’s willing to branch out in his musical repertoire as a trade off—he wishes he’d been paying attention to the metal gig he and Robin always talked over to decompress their weeks, to see if the guitarist’s dimples were visible from the shitty little stage set up every week.

Steve’s definitely going to look this Friday. Start paying attention.

But by day, when he comes here to caffeinate, and before and after too, the guy’s doing his own grad work in composition—Steve sometimes forgets their school has a conservatory—but for all the guy looks a little too into wearing a lot of metal and black everything to fit the mold? He talks about mastering the ‘totality of his field so he can shatter the rules with both expertise and total glee’.

Steve grins and makes an intentional note of the actual name on the order: Eddie.

Eddie’s…endearing. Whip-smart, in weird little ways. Funny. Cute as fuck. More than cute, really. Kinda…like…

Okay, when he comes in early enough, which is rare but: when he comes in when the sun’s behind him? Guy goddamn glows.

Sue Steve for being kinda blindsided now that he’s paying fucking attention.

And also, screw Robin for choke-laughing at him when she catches him taking longer on all his orders the next morning, and comes over to investigate.

‘What are you trying to make?’ she points at the latte he’s trying to draw a little shape on top of.

‘Clouds,’ which isn’t what he was trying for but it’s the closest thing he can think of on the fly that looks like he didn’t fuck it up.

‘They’ll look like better clouds by accident, like, without you trying to help,’ Robin deadpans but doesn’t push; doesn’t have to. She see through the lie, just doesn’t know the specific truth.

Fucking…latte art.

But Steve…Steve likes Eddie. He really likes Eddie, from his smile to his snide humor to the way he talks about the real rock opera he’s writing, gonna send everywhere and anywhere when he’s got his degree in hand as clout, the concentration on his face when he bites his tongue and scribbles notes from his booth by the window.

But then, when he asks about Steve. How he slept, how he’s doing like he cares to hear the answer Steve gives because he always follows up. Compliments Steve’s shirt, or almost seems like he tries to make Steve laugh for how he lights up when he succeeds and…

‘You could just write your number on his cup,’ Robin points out, but Steve scoffs immediately.

‘That’s skeevy as shit.’

‘It absolutely is not.’

‘Trite. Unimaginative.’

‘Ah,’ Robin smirks, a little smug; ‘you really like him.’

Steve feels himself flush and glances at the door; too early for the root cause of her words actually having any effect.

Small mercies.

Because Steve’s…making progress.

But they still get hidden under the lids of the cups.

So what if he writes a little neater, with a little bit of flourish when he labels Eddie’s cup, in the meantime. So what.

Eddie’s the only person who even looks, like he’s enjoys seeing Steve’s handwriting just because, and if Steve’s just projecting on that point?

Fuck you.

It’s end of October, which means he’s only just shy of losing the shred of thematic excuse for the whole thing but honestly? It’s a paper thin excuse.

Much like ‘Oh shit, out of lids, just a second’ when he goes to cap Eddie’s order—when Steve specifically moved them an hour ago—so that the drink is left open-topped while he grabs the strategically-displaced stack of lids and when he returns he’s not sure Eddie will even have thought about looking at the—

‘Is this a bat?’

Eddie’s bent down level to the counter, head tipped and breath held, studying the…shit, probably a total mess of an attempt at a shape that was maybe a bat, probably more like a vaguely grinning fanged blob, definitely wanted to be a bat though, and Steve can feel his cheeks heating up before Eddie’s eyes flick away from the coffee cup for first time—

To lock onto Steve’s.

‘It tried to be,’ Steve sighs, accepting failure at both the art—which is neither all that important or at all surprising, he’s shit at art; it’s the failure at trying to, who knows, maybe woo, the pretty nerdy boy who makes his pulse tick up just walking through the door? That part’s the failure he’s gonna mourn.

‘But y’know. Like your,’ and Steve gestures at Eddie’s ink peeking from his shirt sleeves, because that was what initially sparked the idea, then he clocks his betrayer-mouth and tries to save the confession, knowing it’s useless: ‘and then it’s October so—‘ he starts to shrug, to hide his hands in his apron pocket and stare meaningfully at the tile floor, probably needs mopping, but then—

‘It’s amazing,’ Eddie says, a little breathless, and Steve looks up immediately to catch the awe in his tiny grin, the kind Steve’s never seen on him before, so soft it makes Steve’s pulse jump a little into the hug of his collar

‘I didn’t know you could do that. Have you been putting them under,’ Eddie’s face turns mildly horrified as he gestures to the cup, and the lid in Steve’s hand—which is honestly kinda adorable; ‘all this time and I missed it?’

‘God no,’ Steve snorts, reassures; ‘I actually almost lost my job because I thought it was dumb to put all the work in just to cover it up.’

And Eddie’s grin comes back, with an added bite of his top teeth against his bottom lip, and a length of his curls dragged to try—and fail—to hide it.

‘I’m really glad you didn’t lose your job,’ he says quietly, and Steve’s chest feels warmer than a fresh fucking shot of espresso.

Which reminds him:

‘It’s gonna get cold,’ Steve holds out the lid and nods at the slowly-melting bat-blob, and Eddie takes it but doesn’t put it on, still chewing at his bottom lip before he raises those big dark eyes Steve’s way again and confesses, sounding a little lost, maybe just shy of heartbroken:

‘I don’t wanna ruin it.’

And Steve’s heart doesn’t break for any of it; fucking swells and soars and hopes because this man is…he’s…

Steve grabs the lid back, lets his fingers brush with intent against Eddie’s and tells himself he knows he reads the almost inaudible—but only almost—gasp from Eddie at the contact right before he gets to work on the same drink with a normal, boring non-flourish on the top, though he does add the caramel sprinkles he knows Eddie likes even if they don’t match the standard recipe, before popping the lid on this cup and sliding it next to the now-unrecognizable bat.

‘On the house,’ Steve says softly, and he thinks it might be too much to wink but Eddie lights up like a Christmas tree and so he gives it a shot, and then Eddie’s just looks giddy as he tries to balance the two cups on his way to his normal seat.

Steve’s gonna fucking write his number on the cup tomorrow.

(In the end, though: he doesn’t get a chance.

He walks in, second shift, and he’s barely apron’d up before Robin, who opened hours ago, slides him a large to-go cup with a pointed ‘Might want to open the lid, it got too hot’ before slipping away.

And Steve’s not a moron, so he opens the lid.

It’s a pile of foam and maybe whipped cream with a cocoa-and-possibly-chocolate-sprinkle heart drawn on top, and Steve’s almost too charmed by it to notice what else is waiting under the lid.

But like, under the lid, in the tiniest possible letters:

‘I had to make a stencil out of a postcard to try and do this at home so I’m sorry if this is the actual worst. But I’d really like to take you out for something you don’t make for yourself all day. I have some ideas, but I’d meet you wherever. Text me, or even call—I swear I’d make a point to answer if it’s you.’

And the biggest thing written, and traced over to be BOLD, is a phone number.

But then, more teeny tiny words:

‘Also: please DO NOT drink this—I just wanted it to look decent, not taste good. Plus the main flavor profile might be sharpie by now, anyway.’

And Steve snorts to himself, sniffs the drink and oh, yeah. Yeah, that’s an aroma of permanent-marker, for sure.

‘Though the lid is clean, I didn’t reuse an old one,’ the note goes on: ‘though maybe, if you text (or call!), we’ll end the evening where swapping spit’s kind of the point ~’

There’s a little heart that barely fits but is as recognizable as the one on the undrinkable-drink and Steve barely feel Robin’s hand push his shoulder toward the back corner by the window where a certain curly-haired composer’s leg is bouncing fast enough to hear against the floor on approach, Reeboks squeaking against the tile; where a man’s sitting who Steve would really like to close the week out—or even the day, if he’s real lucky—as being able to just call ‘boyfriend’, instead of anything else.

✨🦇✨☕️✨

Originally from Twitter, where you can totally ask for a fic-me-up when you’re having A DAY, too;

Also on Ao3.

#steddie #tooth rotting fluff #coffee shop au #shit i write #gift fic #fic-me-up #embersonfiredeux #steddie fluff

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contentconsumer · 2 years

Text

a second chance

a/n: okay so i started a series, welcome to part 1! this is more of an introduction/setup for the rest of the series but y/n was kinda based on this post. hopefully posting part 2 later this week, let me know your thoughts and requests are still open - my prompt list can be found here. ily guys! also have a playlist for this series so let me know if you wanna hear it word count:3.4k(ish) requested?: no pairing: steve harrington x reader warnings?: um awkward steve, enemies, nancy slander (sorry not sorry) summary: you hate steve harrington. until you are forced to save hawkins together. then you don’t hate steve so much?

“Hi, I’m really sorry but we are closed now.” You smile at the customer in front of you, praying they would retaliate with the same kindness. However, that would be too easy, “Can’t you just make me a coffee? I just want a small one.” You grit your teeth trying not to let your customer service smile drop, “Unfortunately, everything’s shut down and I was literally just about to lock the doors.” The older gentleman who stands before you exaggeratedly sighs, “Well, you’ve just lost a customer. You should make your opening times WAY more clear.” He turns on his heel and leaves, ironically speeding past the door with your store's opening time clearly printed on. Letting out an aspirated sigh, you continue cashing up - today feels like it has gone on forever. It had been a hot day in Hawkins so of course it felt like the whole population decided to flock to your place of work, a small and normally quiet coffee shop which conveniently also sells milkshakes - you had made a lot of milkshakes. As if God couldn’t give you a break, you hear the bell above the door ring again, assuming it’s the same guy coming back because he didn’t get his kick out of being rude and pouting to a teenage girl earlier therefore, without looking up you’re beginning to say “Look-” while simultaneously cursing him out in your head, yet before you manage any other words a voice you recognise calls out, “Gooooooood afternoon gorgeous!” Your best friend Eddie’s voice bellows across the store, “Hiya Eds, how are you?” You look up with a smile and a fond shake of your head, slightly surprised to find Eddie standing with others - who weren’t in his little DnD group. “Better now I’ve seen you.” Eddie shamelessly flirts but that’s just how your friendship worked, everything was strictly platonic but to an outside eye may not seem that way.

It certainly didn’t look that way to Steve, who stood behind Eddie and to the left of Robin, his mouth physically ajar in confusion of why on earth it appeared Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson was flirting with the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Robin picked up on Steve’s gawking which lead to him receiving a prompt elbow to the ribs, Steve hissed and rubbed his hand where his friend had hit him, “What the fuck was that for?” He moaned, Robin stared at him “You’ll catch flies.” she scolded. Before any bickering can begin, your voice pulls their attention back to the issue at hand. Eddie had demanded that all of them pick you up on the way to see the rest of the gang in hopes to discuss what their next plan for Vecna was. You knew about the Upside Down and all that came with it after you met Max and Dustin. They came in to your work in attempts to find Eddie when he had gone on the run from the police, you demanded more information as you were scared shitless for your best friend, not to mention you were certain there was no way Eddie murdered Chrissy making you all up for proving his innocence. What you weren’t expecting was the full run down of Hawkins and how many secrets the small town harboured.

Despite this, there was no way you were backing out, not even when you saw Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington standing opposite you. You tried extremely hard not to roll your eyes at the mere sight of the boy but it was taking all your energy. You hate Steve Harrington and the worst part is, by the look in his eye (as he was very obviously checking you out), he didn’t remember who you were. You were the unfortunate soul who was forced to have the locker next to Steve for the whole time he attended Hawkins High, even though you had tried to swap with your friends. On multiple occasions. Regardless of this, you ended up stuck listening to the king of Hawkins High himself complain to his friends about issues you didn’t give a shit about for example, who was holding this week's party, how he was failing Spanish, his dad catching him drinking and/or smoking, the list goes on. Or if he wasn’t whining so loud the whole hall could hear, he was making out with Nancy Wheeler, a girl you never really spoke to, predetermining you two wouldn’t get along by the way she walked around the school with her nose turned up, right against your locker, meaning you were forced to attend many lessons without your appropriate books - being too nervous to try and get the two to stop playing ‘tonsil tennis’ as Eddie named it. Instead, you stuck with Eddie and a few others, but now you had also befriended Robin after bumping into her when you were passing through the halls with Max. But Steve? Up until this point you had luckily not run into him since he had graduated yet you knew the reunion would be coming sooner rather than later after Dustin started talking about how he was also in the group.

“Okay, so if we let Steve-” Dustin began as you drove him and Max home from a long day of questioning you about Eddie, “Hang on,” You butt in, “Steve as in Steve Harrington?” You can’t help the grimace that plastered itself on your face, to which Dustin physically retracted at, “Oh no, don’t tell me you two slept together too?” “Ew,” You shudder, “No. I-actually it doesn’t matter.” You don’t offer any more information about how you knew Steve much to Dustin’s dismay who was now very curious.

“Okay, so why am I coming to this meeting?” You questioned Eddie before moving your attention to Robin, “Hey Robin” You greet with a smile, the girl replies with a small wave but notices how your smile drops as your gaze shifts to Steve. Before you have a chance to hurl abuse at the poor boy who still hasn’t realised who you are, Eddie interrupts, “Because you’re my best friend and I said to.” “Sounds good enough to me,” You giggle and Steve swears he physically swoons over the sound but also can’t help but feel relief at Eddie’s use of ‘best friend’ - he notes you two aren’t actually together. “Let me just lock up and I’ll drive down behind you.” You raise your eyebrows at Eddie, “Oh hell no,�� he waves his hand in the air, “I’ll come with you - Robin and Steve can lead, can’t ya?” Eddie turns to Steve, expecting a response, “Oh-uh-yeah for sure. You can follow us, yep.” Steve mumbles, running a desperate hand through his hair and tugging on it slightly, embarrassed. “Right let's go then dingus.” Robin grabs Steve by the arm, half yanking him out of the store, she turns her head to face you as she leaves, “See you in a sec!”

“Yeah,” you squint and draw your eyebrows in confusion, “See you in a sec.” “Steve, what the actual fuck was that?” Robin whisper-yells at her friend as soon as they exit the store. “I have no idea, was it bad? It felt like it was kinda bad.” Steve cringes, a blush forming on his cheeks, “It was like watching a train wreck. In slow motion.” Robin deadpans, “Wow thanks Robin, you have such a way with words.” Steve glares. “Oh Steve, will you please enlighten me on why on earth you just fell apart when speaking to Y/N Y/L/N? You like puddleified.” “Puddleified?” “Melted, like turning into a puddle. Wasn’t my question. Answer. Now.” At this point they have reached Steve’s car and as he unlocks the doors, he can’t help but feel like he knows your name from somewhere - he just can’t put his finger on it. “What? She’s pretty. Pretty girls make me nervous.” Steve tries to explain but cuts himself off when he hears Robin scoff, “What?” he slides into the driver’s seat and turns his head to look at her, “That’s the most embarrassing excuse I think I have ever heard, and I had to listen to you try and get out that date with Stacy last week.” “I handled that well!” Steve proclaims, “Steve, you told her you had chickenpox! You’re 19! And statistically 90% of cases of chickenpox are children 5 and below!” She hits his arm, “Anyway, you’ve got no chance idiot.” “Why? Do you think she likes Eddie?” Steve can’t help the wave of disappointment wash over him as he tries to draw to a conclusion, “No way.” Robin states, “They have been friends forever, I think if anything would’ve happened, it would’ve happened by now.” “Then why do you think I have ‘no chance’.” Steve uses air quotes, before turning to face the front of the store, seeing Eddie chat to you as you smile at him and lock the doors before replying to whatever the metalhead has said to you. Steve turns his key in the ignition, waiting for the engine to catch. “Because,” Robin says cockily, “She hates you.” She says it as if it’s a fact everyone should know. Like, oh the grass is green, the sky is blue and Y/N Y/L/N hates Steve Harrington. Steve can’t help but whip his head back round to the passenger seat, “What? Why would she hate me? She doesn’t know me.” Robin tuts slightly, “Oh but Stevie,” She teases with a shit eating grin, “She does.” “Since when?” Steve shoots back, a part of him thinking Robin is just making this all up. “School you imbecile, she had the locker next to you and from that experience, she hates you.” A singsong tone covering her voice. It’s like everything clicks into place, he falls back into his seat, head thrown back as he groans, “Oh my god.” He mumbles before running both hands over his face, memories flooding back to him, you rolling your eyes everytime you tried to get to your locker, sighing and walking off when he was spending time with Nance, or mumbling curse words under your breath when you saw him heading towards his locker, “You’re right. She does hate me.” Before either of the pair have a chance to say anything else, a knock on Steve's window makes him bring his hands down. Face to face with Eddie, he rolls his window down with a “What?” to which Eddie replies, “Dude are you gonna leave or? Y/N doesn’t know the way to Dustin’s house.” “Right.” Steve lets out a huge sigh, “Yep.” He slaps his hands onto the wheel.

Eddie returns to your car and slips into the passenger seat, “Well?” You scowl slightly, “He’s going now.” Eddie points his thumb in the direction of Steve’s car, who still had the window slightly ajar meaning you could hear Robin’s laughter from where you were sitting. You start to reverse your own car, before looking over to Eddie, “You might wanna like-crouch down?” “Crouch down?” Eddie laughs, “You know, in case the police drive past, I don’t really wanna be caught with a fugitive in my car.” “I am not a fugitive.” “Eds, you are about as fugitive as they come right now.” You laugh, “Anyway, whose house are we going to?” “Dustin’s.” “And Steve just knows the way there because?” “They’re friends?” Eddie tries to state but it comes out as more of a question, you let out a huff. “Y/N you can’t hate him forever.” “Don’t you start too,” You interject, “First Robin, now you, oh he’s changed. He’s so nice now.” You purposely put on a high pitched voice exaggeratedly pretending to be Robin, making Eddie giggle, “I’m being real with you, he’s actually alright, well so far.” Eddie shrugs, “Exactly,” You try, “So far. We still don’t even know that much about him.” You complain, “Yeah but Robin does, hell they even work together and I don’t see Robin hanging out with someone who is, as you claim, a total dickward.” “HE is a total dickward,” You wave your hands around letting Eddie grab the wheel as your car almost swerves, “Hands on the wheel please Y/N or this fugitive is going to be found dead in your car.” “If he keeps trying to make me befriend Steve Harrington then maybe it’s for the best.” You purse your lips trying to hide your smile, Eddie lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his heart, “You would let your BEST FRIEND DIE because he’s asking you to give a guy a second chance?” He shouts, “I don’t care about giving ‘a guy’ a second chance,” You mumble, “Just not Steve Harrington. Man, I hate Steve Harrington.” “We’ve established that.” “Fuck off Munson.”

You arrive at Dustin’s house, far too quick for your liking. Slightly hitting the curb with your wheels you begrudgingly set your car into park. Meanwhile Eddie, the dramatic, is acting as if you just got into a head on collision, grumbling about your wheels and how if you damage them he doesn’t want to be the person who changes them, again. “Firstly, you offered to change them last time and who am I to stop you? And secondly, if I can change the wheels on my motorcycle I doubt it’s much harder.” You retort, “Wait?” Robin’s voice makes you jump, not realising she had caught up with you two as you march towards Dustin’s door, “You have a motorcycle? That’s so badass” She sounds awestruck, “Yeah,” You wave your hand, “It’s in the shop right now thanks to idiot-” You gesture to Eddie, “And his genius idea to try and drive it himself.” “It wasn’t that bad.” “It certainly was that bad,” You exclaim, “You took my prized possession and drove it straight into a tree!” You begin to recall the dreaded night Eddie, after too much weed, decided to give his hand at motorbike driving, “You didn’t tell me it was gonna go so fast.” Eddie tries to bicker with you, an argument you had been repeatedly having since the incident, “I was high Eddie. You got me high then crashed my bike so I’m stuck driving my godforsaken mother’s Honda around.” “I like your mom’s Honda.” “No Eds, you like my mom.” “Well, have you seen her?” Both you and Robin make various noises of disgust, all the while Steve trudges along behind the three of you. Wondering how he was going to make up for 5 years of his ‘King Steve’ era that you had witnessed, yet he couldn’t help his look of surprise after listening to your story involving both drugs and a motorcycle - he didn’t take you for a motorcycle rider and definitely not a stoner. Nevertheless, he shakes his head in a way to physically remove the thoughts of you that seemed to plague him. Eddie knocks on the door in front of him and Dustin swings it open with a happy grin, “Oh perfect, you’re all here.” He says before hurriedly waving the group of older teens through the door. “Common, hurry, we only have an hour before my mom’s gonna be back from bookclub.” He rambles, “Oh shit, I’m missing book club for this shit?” You gasp, voice laced with so much sarcasm Steve can’t help the laugh that bubbles then leaves his chest. Your head shoots to look at him, “Nice one.” He coughs, nerves overwhelming him, “Thanks.” You tilt your head in confusion, there was no way Steve Harrington laughed at your stupid joke. “Stop with the sarcasm and get inside or have you forgotten we have a literal demon running around Hawkins?” “Eddie’s right here. Not running anywhere?” You smirk, earning a punch in the shoulder from Eddie and a hushed, “No more talking from you.” From Dustin, Steve freely lets his smile widen at the sound of your voice.

Once you settle into Dustin’s living room squished between Eddie and Steve, after of course complaining to Max about her being sat in the armchair (to which you got a “You snooze you lose Y/L/N.” in response) Dustin began talking. Laying out facts you knew, and some you didn’t - you tried to pretend you were shocked at the horrors which were being described in front of you but Steve felt your body stiffen, almost without thinking he went to rest his hand on your thigh in attempts to reassure you but he stopped himself, Robin’s words echoing in his mind, instead he chooses to place his hand back on his lap, ringing his fingers together. All the while you took a deep breath trying to focus on what Dustin was saying and not the warmth radiating from Steve, if he didn’t disgust you as much you might’ve relaxed into him. But he does. You hate him. You almost have to remind yourself after your eyes flicker to the moles which litter his cheek.

The meeting continued on, Lucas explaining to the group that he overheard Jason telling the whole basketball team they were going to pay you a visit in hopes of figuring out where Eddie was hiding, in response you guys formed a plan which involved you occupying the Hawkins Tigers at work, in an attempt to buy time. Luckily, no one had noticed the tension between you and Steve, that was until Robin had to open her big mouth, “So Steve,” She claps her hands together to turn and leans on her knees to speak to the boy in question, “You’ve met Y/N obviously, why don’t you give her hand, y’know make sure things don’t go south.” Robin tries to sound innocent but she can’t help but have a teasing undertone. Before Steve has a chance to reply you do, “Actually Robin, I’m good-” you sit back and cross your arms over your chest, “I can assure you I don’t need any help in keeping basketballers busy.” As you finish Steve starts, “I would uh actually agree with Y/N, I don’t think I can provide much help.” He curses as he feels a blush creep up the back of his neck, something you take a note of but don’t speak on, instead your own scheme forms in your head, “On second thought,” The gang turn to you, a smirk peeking under your bitten lip, “I could probably do with some help just incase you know ‘things go south.’” You quote, “So what do ya say Harrington?” Steve feels all the air exit his lungs hearing you say his surname. “Uh-oh of course.” He manages to squeak out, “Would love to do that.” He sighs, “Okay it’s sorted then,” Mike starts, “You two keep Jason busy while we look through his car to see if he has anything that could explain why Vecna chose Chrissy as his victim.”

As you leave the Henderson house, Eddie is hot on your heels, “Staying over Munson?” You question as he clambers into your mom’s car. “You know it. What was that thing?” His thumb jerks back to the house you had just exited, “I thought you hated Steve?” “Oh,” you giggle, “I do. But for whatever reason I clearly make him nervous, so I thought it would be fun.” You face the road, “What would be fun?” Eddie can’t keep up with how you mind works, he says it’s because you’re a woman and you say it’s because he’s stupid. “Spending some alone time with him. See if he remembers me. I might actually be able to get an apology from him but I won’t count on it.” “Y/N don’t tease the poor boy.” Eddie reasons, nervous for what you’re going to put Steve through, “I won’t. I just uh want to y’know,” You turn in your seat, “Give him a second chance.” You wink, “I should’ve known you would use my own wise words against me. I’m hurt Y/N. You’re never hearing this wisdom again.” Eddie laughs, “I think I’ll survive.” You beam.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things masterlist #stranger things x reader #stranger things ship #contentconsumer #Minx talks #minx writes #steve #harrington #harrington x reader #harrington series #a second chance

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xirayn · 1 year

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Like Biting Bats (Very Metal)

Read Ch 1 of the full fic here

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Featuring @aibhlynn as Eddie

The tape with Corroded Coffin’s music has been playing in Steve’s car on repeat. The few attempts to sing along have been made difficult by the live-wire energy of Eddie’s vocals. They tear through the instrumentals in a battle that neither side is winning. When Robin had heard it, she compared Eddie’s voice to a hot pepper overpowering the flavors of a chili, while Steve’s voice is more like chocolate. He had been lost until she explained that the best chilies use chocolate to balance out the heat of the peppers and enhance the flavors of the spices in that slow, leading way she does while waiting for him to catch up.

Steve tries again while waiting for Eddie in the school parking lot. The music is turned down so he doesn’t have to compete with it. His eyes close to help him better hear his spot among the melody and meter. After a deep breath, he stops trying to imitate Eddie’s voice, lets himself be Steve, and starts singing. Images of singing with Eddie come up as he does; seeing the way his dark eyes light up when they hit a harmony.

A thud against the window startles Steve. He twists around ready for a fight, but the sight of a paper with ‘B+’ at the top in bold, red marker by Eddie’s name has the adrenaline giving way to excitement.

It’s the last passing grade Eddie needed to graduate.

“Nancy did it!” Steve exclaims through the glass. His eyes move to Eddie, who was beaming like an absolute idiot. “You did it!”

“I did it!” Eddie whoops. He clutches the paper to his chest and does a joyous little jig before darting around the front of the car. He opens the door and flings himself into the passenger seat, quickly yanking the door closed and buckling his seatbelt.

“I owe Nancy the biggest thank you,” he laughs in a high voice that bubbles with excitement. The paper is held out as far as he can in admiration.

“Cake.” His expression gets impossibly brighter as he looks over at Steve. “We need to get a cake. And- I don’t know – ice cream. We can get everyone together and throw a party because I’m finally fucking graduating!”

“You’re graduating!” Steve clasps Eddie’s shoulder and affectionately shakes it, matching that infectious, celebratory energy.

“I’m graduating.” Eddie’s arms drop and he stares down at the paper crinkled between his fingers. His wild grin settles into something quiet and happy. He chuckles. “Man - how do you even plan a party?”

He has seen the graduation parties of his friends and peers who had ultimately left him behind, along with Hawkins High. Now it was his turn. He going to walk that stage, look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, flip him the bird, snatch that diploma and-

His eyes flick towards Steve.

“This is real, right? I passed? This is a B+ next to my name?” Eddie’s excitement was beginning to be tempered by disbelief. He’s rarely gotten above a C in anything.

“Yep. Just don’t cause too much trouble and it’s all downhill from here, man.”

Eddie scoffs, leaning forward to shove the paper into his bag. “Who do you think you’re talking to, Harrington?” He sits back up with a mischievous grin and prods Steve between the ribs. “Trouble is my middle name.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve swats away the finger jabbing his side. “Where does the future graduate want to go?”

They don’t have any obligations until band practice tomorrow since the kids are spending the night at the Hopper-Byers’ house. Vickie has also been having Robin over for ‘girls nights’ that Robin insists don’t mean anything. Even if it isn’t anything, Steve is happy for her. She deserves friends beyond him.

“I’m starving,” Eddie comments. He goes to poke Steve again, only to pull back before his hand is smacked again. A playful wink accentuates his grin. “Steak and Ale,” he suggests since the government is generously paying the hush money that allows for the occasional splurge, “or did you want to grab a pizza? There is also that new soda shop on Second Street.”

Steven snorts at the idea of them in a soda shop. For a moment, he imagines them as Sandy and Danny, the prep and the greaser, drinking a root beer float with two straws. Except that Steve is no Sandy in a way that has nothing to do with gender.

“Your choice, man.”

Tag list

@amoris-no-smut-allowed @zerokrox-blog @babyrunsforfanfic @killmeinmydreams @beeing-stuupid @impeachy @archerwithmanybows @alienace @awkwardgravity1 @nuttychaosface @lexyvey @beckkthewreck @obsessivlyme @artiststarme @icecweme @estrellami-1 @spectrum-spectre @newtstabber

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #steddie fic #stranger things au #steddie au #let steve be in the band

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berenwrites · 1 year

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Whole New Us Ch20 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Whole New Us: Trauma Bonded and Beyond

Also on AO3 | Or here CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | CH6 | CH7 | CH8 | CH9 | CH10 | CH11 | CH12 | CH13 | CH14 | CH15 | CH16 | CH17 | CH18 | CH19 | CH20 | CH21 | CH22 | CH23 | CH24 | CH25 (Mature) | CH25 (Fade to black) COMPLETE

Summary: Steve has been ignoring his own problems, he��s been busy. They’ve all been busy, preoccupied with fixing everything that was broken. Vecna has been defeated, but the Upside Down is still there, and the gates are not completely closed even though Hawkins has almost returned to normal. It’s been a couple of months and the aftereffects of Steve’s encounter with the demobats is about to come back to bite him. However, it also brings some unexpected hope.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Rating: Teen (with mature content in later chapters)

Chapter 20. Unexpected Truth

Steve sighed as Mike threw popcorn at Dustin, but he was so content that he didn’t have the heart to yell at him. He was going to have to take out all the couch cushions to clean, again, but they looked so happy. It had been a week and a half since graduation and Dustin had begged for a movie night as summer boredom set in. It was him, Robin, Eddie and all the kids except Erica, who was having a sleepover with Tina because she did not trust anyone else’s taste in movies.

Eddie was almost sitting on top of Steve, but Eddie was a touchy-feely kind of guy, so no one had even blinked, and Robin was on his other side using him as a sentient space heater even though it was late June. She always complained the AC was on too high.

The movie was just about over and, for once, Steve had made it all the way through. He still wasn’t quite back to one hundred percent and had an unfortunate habit of falling asleep when there wasn’t anything actively taking his attention. Robin was constantly ribbing him for it, especially at work, although, suspiciously, she always left him to it if they didn’t have any customers to deal with.

There was a big fight scene going on when he suddenly had the strangest feeling. His hackles went up and he was instantly alert, then the front door slammed. Nearly everyone in the room was ready to leap out of their seat at that, but Steve was the only one who stood as shock made him move.

“Mom, Dad,” he said, staring at his parents, “you didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

“Clearly,” his mom said, looking at all the kids in their movie night PJs.

“Well, this is inconvenient,” was what his dad chose to say, annoyance dripping from his tone.

Steve had no idea how to respond.

“No, nope, definitely not, just no,” it was Eddie’s voice that cut through the uncomfortable atmosphere as he stepped past Steve, putting himself right in the firing line. “You do not have the right to call the family Steve found because you couldn’t be bothered to be here, inconvenient.”

“How dare you,” Steve’s mother said.

“Who the hell are you?” his father said at the same time.

“Probably your worst nightmare,” Eddie replied.

Steve reached out to put his fingers on Eddie’s shoulder, but Eddie gave him a look. It said so many things.

“Wait, I’ve seen you before,” his father said.

Eddie put a hand up to his face, covering the scars on his cheek.

“Better?” he asked, his tone scathing. “I didn’t have the pretty additions when they took my picture.”

Steve saw his father’s eyes open in shock.

“You’re the man who killed the Cunningham girl,” his father accused, because of course he did.

“No, he didn’t,” Steve said very loudly and very firmly.

Eddie momentarily shrank a little at the accusation, the guilt at not being able to save Chrissy clearly obvious, and Steve was not having that.

“Eddie was a victim, just as much as Chrissy,” he said, refusing to back down from his father’s angry stare. “He was completely exonerated, and he nearly died saving Dustin, so don’t accuse him of what you don’t understand.”

“Which you would have known if you had been here,” Eddie added, totally not helping.

“That’s enough,” his father shouted, “I want everyone who does not live here out of my house now.”

Steve’s heart thudded in his chest as the thought of being alone crashed into him.

“No.”

Eddie’s voice cut like a knife. Steve’s father opened his mouth to say something scathing back.

“No,” Eddie said again, “you don’t get to say that. This might be your house, but it’s Steve’s home. If you had told him you were coming back, I have no doubt he would have made sure your big empty house was perfect for you, but you didn’t even give him that courtesy, so, no, you don’t get to say that. He needs this more than you need your spotless house.”

“Steven, do something about your friends,” his father demanded, but Steve didn’t know what to say. “You’re a disgrace, lounging around in bedclothes with children.”

“Stop right there,” Eddie said in a tone that added or-I’ll-make-you without it being said. “Your son is the farthest thing from a disgrace you can get. He is one of the bravest men I have ever met, and he’ll look after anyone who needs it. At the moment I can’t for the life of me figure out where he picked up either of those traits.”

“How dare…” was as far as his father got.

“How dare I, I’ll tell you how I dare,” Eddie went on, and all Steve could do was stare. “While you weren’t looking, your son helped save the world five times…”

“Eddie,” Robin hissed.

“No,” Eddie said turning to give her a look, “they need to know, or they will never get it. And I mean that absolutely literally, by the way,” Eddie went on staring down Steve’s parents, “there has been shit going down here you would not believe. I’m late to the party, I was only in on one of those, but Steve, and those kids over there, they’ve done it all five fucking times. And let’s not forget the fact that your darling boy has been kidnapped and tortured by the Russians twice, and you don’t have the remotest clue it happened even once.”

His mom was staring at him flicking between horror and disbelief.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his father started to say.

Steve just couldn’t take the tirade that he knew was about to come, so he did the only thing he could think of, he pulled his t-shirt off. The scars that littered his skin were clear for all to see. His mother gasped, dropping her clutch purse and immediately coming towards him.

“Oh my god,” she said, almost, but not quite reaching out to touch him, “my poor baby. Why didn’t you tell us?”

The cruel words that jumped into his head were ‘you wouldn’t have listened anyway’, but what he said was, “I wasn’t allowed to.”

“What do you mean weren’t allowed,” his father demanded, “we’re you parents? Tell me everything right now!”

It was exactly the wrong tone at exactly the wrong moment. Steve’s mind filled with memories. There was Starcourt and there was the brute with the cattle prod, overlayed on each other as the present vanished in pain and fear.

“Fuck,” he heard, but it sounded so distant.

He wanted to run, to struggle, but he was frozen, unable to do anything.

“Steve, Steve, sweetheart look at me.”

The voice called to him, but he couldn’t remember who it belonged to.

Someone grabbed his chin, yanking his head around and he couldn’t fight back. He felt Eddie, but he couldn’t see him. Did they have Eddie too? He couldn’t bear it if they had caught Eddie.

“Steve, it’s Eddie, I need you to come back,” the voice said, out of his captor’s distorted face. “You’re safe, Stevie, no one is going to hurt you.”

“Eddie,” he muttered, but Eddie hadn’t been at Starcourt.

Then it was like a revelation: but Eddie had come for him this time. Eddie had been there.

“Yes, Steve,” Eddie’s voice told him out of the chimera face his mind was conjuring, “that’s right, Eddie. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s all good.”

“Safe?” he asked, even more confused.

“Safe,” Eddie confirmed.

Ever so slowly the hard grip on his chin morphed until he could feel a hand on each of his cheeks, a gentle touch unlike the one his mind had conjured. And like the sun coming out from behind clouds, the twisted face in front of him melted away to leave Eddie’s worried visage. He blinked a couple of times just to make sure.

“Are you back, Stevie?” Eddie asked in an incredibly gentle tone.

He still felt a bit spacy, but Steve nodded. He wasn’t sure he could manage words right at that moment. When he realised his dad’s voice had sent him into a full-blown flashback he began to shake.

“Okay, Dingus,” Robin’s warm voice told him as she gently placed her hands on his shoulders, “we’ve got you. Time to sit down before you fall down.”

As Eddie and Robin guided him to the kid’s couch, he didn’t have any will to object. He found himself pushed down onto the soft cushions as the others made room for him before he was wrapped in a blanket and surrounded on all sides by careful teenagers.

“Look after him,” Eddie told Dustin, “we’ll deal with this.”

When Eddie looked over at Steve’s parents he tried to reach out, to protest or something, he wasn’t quite sure, but his arms were pinned in the blanket, and he had zero coordination to get out.

“Eddie,” he said, but any other words failed him.

“Steve,” Eddie said, no playfulness in his features at all, “let Robin and me handle this, you’re in no state. Let the kids keep you grounded, and Rob and I will be back soon.”

He really, really didn’t want Eddie to go anywhere, but after a moment he nodded.

Eddie shared a look with Robin which Steve couldn’t follow because his brain was too fuzzy before they stood back from the pile of people and walked where he couldn’t see. He almost panicked again, but El patted his shoulder and curled closer to his side and distracted him. Flashbacks were hard and his brain felt all out of sync, but he accepted the comfort as well as he could.

His eyes flicked to the TV screen where the credits of the movie were playing on mute.

“Don’t forget to rewind,” was possibly the stupidest thing he could say, but it was the only thing in his brain that made sense.

End of Chapter 20

Chapter 21

#stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie lives #stranger things #st: whole new us #fanfic #post season 4 #vampires #kind of vampires #hurt/comfort

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the bath

pairing: Steve x Reader

summary: Steve goes through some anniversary-related trauma. Reader helps him through it.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of PTSD

===

You sigh heavily as you open the door to your apartment, dropping your bag at your feet and shrugging your coat off. It was too cold for October, and you shivered as you kicked your shoes off. You make your way into the living room to find your boyfriend huddled up on the couch. He’s wearing an oversized grey hoodie and sweats, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days - because he hadn’t.

You approach carefully, afraid to wake him if he’s finally slept, but he stirs.

“Steve?”

He makes a weak noise in response, cuddling into himself more. You frown and sit in front of his reclined body, running your hand over his clothed shoulder. His face is pale, under eyes dark and sunken. His perfect hair flopped lazily over his forehead, flat on the top, as he hadn’t washed it in days. He didn’t have the energy to. He didn’t have the energy to do much at all the past week, his trauma overtaking his body. All he could do was think.

“You feelin’ any better?” you ask softly, though you know the answer.

He shakes his head. “‘m tired.”

“I know,” you coo. “Have you tried the sleep aids?”

Steve shakes his head once more, jaw setting. He didn’t want to take them because of the nightmares - that’s why he couldn’t sleep. All he could see was Barb, and her parents, and his pool, and Dustin’s torn up cat, and Demogorgons, monsters in lab suits, doctors with drugs. He swears he can feel the punches, taste the blood in his mouth. His body genuinely feels like it hurts - like the bruises on his ribs have formed again, sprouting blue and purple clouds across the skin of his torso. He feels dizzy, just as he did after Billy beat him, and after the artificial high from the Russians had worn off. His bones creak when he stands, his head pounds. He feels weak and sick and disgusting, hopeless, anxious, worn. When you’re gone, he cries; when you’re here, he’s silent. He keeps all the lights on in the house all hours of the day and apologizes profusely for it; he just doesn’t want anything sneaking up on him.

You understand.

“What can I do to help?”

A single shake of the head. “Nothin’.”

You frown and lean down, pressing a kiss to his earlobe.

“I’m gross.” He says it as a statement.

“No,” you say simply, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re cute.”

He smiles, but only slightly. “Wish I had the energy to stay in the shower longer than five minutes.”

You perk up suddenly, back straightening. “I have the perfect idea.” You jump up, leaning down to kiss the top of his forehead. “I’ll be back.”

He reaches for you, pulling you down. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll be back so fast, you won’t even know I’m gone,” you promise, reaching for his pinkie with yours. “Half an hour, honest.”

Steve stiffens slightly. “Be safe.”

“You know I will.”

You run to the store, literally run, grabbing what you need. A couple bath bombs, some bath salts. A lavender scented lotion. Steve has hordes of high-end masks, so you skip on those, and run to get the ingredients for his favorite food and dessert. He usually likes to cook and bake, but you can manage. Probably. He was a damn good cook - you had nothing on him. But it’s the thought that counts.

You return with multiple bags, kicking the door shut with your feet. Steve’s brows quirk up as he hears you come in. “That was fast.”

“You know me,” you smile, rushing to put the food away before walking back to him. “I’ve got an idea.”

“I figured,” he says. He has the hood over his head so you can’t see his eyes or mouth, but you can hear the joke in his voice.

“What if I give you a bath?”

Steve stills, and then peaks through the hood. He stares at you for a long moment before asking, “Are you sure?”

“I want to,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. You press a kiss to his scarred knuckles. “Wanna take care of you.”

He pauses for a while longer before nodding gingerly. You help him up, first to sit and then to stand. He stumbles slightly and curses, his cheeks flushing from embarrassment. You stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He reminds you so much of the boy he was, right now. His back hunches from the pain in his ribs. His shoulders slag from the lack of confidence. You can almost see the cuts and bruises on him, and it makes your stomach twist. Steve had pushed everything down quite well, all things considered - but when anniversaries come up, he reverts back into the scared and alone boy he was. And it kills you, because he’s the last person who deserves it.

You lead him to the bathroom with your materials and sit him on the toilet. You help him get his hoodie and undershirt off first, leaving him in his sweats. His eyes purposefully avoid the mirror, and it breaks your heart even more. You grab a washcloth and scrub his face with some water - he had, at least, been keeping up with washing himself. Then you grab one of his masks - a rose colored one, more expensive than your entire outfit - and begin to smooth it onto his face. He relaxes at the touch and smell, shoulders dropping, the crease in his forehead soothing.

“What’re you trying to say?” he quips. “Do I look that bad?”

“Christ, no,” you say. “As gorgeous as ever, Stevie. This is just… self care.”

He smiles slightly and you continue, washing the residue from your fingers when you’re done. You place two under eye patches onto him and he sighs, the smile growing.

“That feels so good,” he murmurs.

You can’t kiss his face, so you kiss the underside of his jaw, and his tension eases further. His hands flutter to your hips as you place another kiss onto the freckles that line his neck.

“‘m not trying to get freaky,” you whisper.

“Just want you close,” he replies.

You press one last kiss to his neck before pulling away and stepping to the bathtub. You run the water til it’s warm, and plug it. You sprinkle a few handfuls of bath salts into the water, and light a candle for him. You help hold Steve up as he steps out of his bottoms, and then help him step into the tub. A happy groan slips from his lips as he slides down, sinking into the water.

“Feel good?”

He hums happily and nods. He forces his eyes to flutter shut, knowing you’re at least here with him. “Don’t let me fall asleep.”

“You should,” you say. “You really should.”

Steve stays quiet, because he knows you’re right.

The salts in the bath slowly ease the tension and aches from his muscles, and the scent of the candle combined with the salts makes him feel a little more alive. You sit and watch his body relax, your own relaxing with it.

After a while, you grab the washcloth again, wetting it with warm water and heading over to remove his mask. You peel the under eye masks off and gently wipe the mask from his skin, revealing more radiant and plump skin underneath. “How do you feel?”

He hums once more. “Prettier.”

You giggle and push his hair back from his face with your hand, leaning in to give him a kiss. Then you grab a nail file and begin to file his nails, manicuring them as he usually does. You work on the hand closest to you, and then the other. Steve watches you the entire time, his eyes soft as you bite the inside of your cheek to concentrate on smoothing his nails down.

Steve knows, deep down, that he is worthy of love. You tell him every single day; Robin, Dustin, and the others reinforce it. Hell, even Mike Wheeler, Steve’s sworn enemy, has been there for him. He knows he’s better off than he ever was, even before the Upside Down consumed all remnants of a normal life. But it still feels bizarre, somewhere in the pit of his chest, to have people care about him. To have people look at him the way you look at him. And he never thought, in a million years, someone would file his nails, apply a face mask to him, and wash his hair with no judgement. But here you were, and here he was, and it was liberating and scary and so, so good.

You finish with his nails and he examines them, smiling softly before mumbling, “Eh, they’re okay.”

“Keep it up, and I won’t make you chicken alfredo,” you respond, and Steve slides down the bath in surprise.

“You - what the hell? It’s so expensive to make that -”

“You’re worth it.”

“No -”

“Yes,” you say, and your expression shuts Steve up. You reach up to twirl your finger through a lock of hair. “You ready?”

He nods, pushing himself up. You grab a large plastic cup and fill it with water. You put your free hand under Steve’s chin to tilt his head back before gently pouring the water over his head. He sighs at the feeling, happy once again, the feeling of warmth on his head relieving. You do this a few more times before grabbing his shampoo, a special kind, one he insists on using - which, you don’t mind, it smells like him. Sometimes you even sneak some to use, because you want the lingering smell of Steve on your hair for the day.

You begin to lather his hair, and his mouth drops. He leans back, his shoulders hitting the edge of the tub, and you giggle as you follow him. Little moans escape his lips - nothing quite sexual, just blissful. The week washes off with the shampoo, leaving him feeling clean and more awake, more alive. It also makes him feel vulnerable. His hair is his favorite feature, and not just anyone can touch it. But he feels safe with you, feels safe for you to see it greasy and flat, clean and sky high. He lets his guard down for the first time in a week, and almost feels ‘normal’ again.

You rinse the suds out and replace the shampoo with conditioner, applying it lightly, careful not to make it too greasy again. Steve smiles, because you’re doing it correctly and he didn’t even have to tell you. After a moment, you rinse it out with clean water. He reaches up and runs his hand through it, happy that it isn’t so heavy anymore.

“Better?”

“Much,” he says quietly.

You stand and get a fresh washcloth and get onto your knees again. The tile of the bathroom hurts, but you’d do it for him. You grab his body wash and he sort of gasps, brows creasing.

“You don’t gotta - I - it was just my hair -”

“Let me,” you say gently, and he relaxes.

You lather the cloth and begin to wash him; slowly, in circles, over the expanse of his chest and shoulders, down his arms and into his hands. As you reach each part, you whisper praises - “your freckles are so beautiful”; “you’ve got the nicest arms I’ve ever seen”; “your hands are always so soft.” Steve fights back tears while you do it, sets his jaw tight so they don’t spill over, his tongue desperately pushing at the roof of his mouth. He wasn’t expecting this. Not that he doesn’t like it, he just wasn’t expecting the love that pours from you, even as you move over his ribs and legs and back.

You rinse him off with the cup again, running your hands over his skin, smooth and supple. Steve looks younger, like years have been washed away from him, and it makes you smile.

You help him get out, being sure that he doesn’t slip, as the water drains. You wrap a towel around him snugly and sit him on the toilet. You kneel in front of him and use another towel to dry his hair for him. He melts into your touch, leaning so far off of the seat that he almost falls. You push him back gently, smiling.

“Feels good,” he mumbles, smiling wider than he has in a while.

“I know how much you like your hair being played with.”

He nudges your foot with his. “You said you weren’t trying to get freaky.”

“I’m not!”

“Okay.”

“Just stating the facts.”

“Alright.” He smiles and leans in, catching your lips in his for the briefest moment. “If you say so.”

You pull back, frowning. “Hey,” you say softly, cupping his cheek. “Just rest, okay? You need to.”

He looks down. “I know.”

“I know it’s hard,” you whisper. “But I will be right beside you. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“That’s not entirely it,” he whispers. “What if they… get you?”

You’d thought about it, of course. After Starcourt, you were a mess, keeping the lights on in your own house, calling Steve at three in the morning - he was always awake. You weren’t immune to your own weeks of worry and anxiety-induced nausea. But you put on a brave face for Steve.

“They won’t,” you whisper back. “It’s over.”

“That’s what we always say,” he mumbles, looking away from you.

You cup his cheek and bring him back to looking at you. “It’s true this time. We’re safe.”

“But what if we aren’t? What can I do? How can I protect everyone?”

“You can’t,” you stress. “And that’s not a bad thing. Everyone is more than capable of taking care of themselves. Especially the kids.”

Steve sighs. “They could probably kill Satan with just a slingshot, huh?”

“They pretty much already have.” You smile sadly. “So have you. Three times over. That’s a lot of practice for fighting interdimensional beings, don’t you think?”

He shrugs and softly adds, “I gave them Dustin’s address, remember?”

You pause, not quite sure what to say. “Dustin’s not mad at you.”

“I know,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper. “But what if they….”

He can’t even finish the thought. His eyes prick with tears and he squeezes his eyes shut.

You wrap him up into your arms, hugging him as tightly as you can. You feel him shake beneath you, and he finally lets out a sob. He hadn’t cried around you much before - you knew he did cry, you just never quite saw it. It makes your stomach drop, but all you can do is hold him, let him bury his face in the crook of your neck and cry.

“‘m sorry,” Steve hiccups.

You pull back. “For what?”

He looks like he has a hard time articulating. “For… for crying. For being like this.”

“Like the man I love?”

“Stop,” he hisses. His eyes soften immediately afterwards, welling with tears again. “Christ, I’m sorry - I didn’t mean -”

“I know,” you whisper. You wrap your fingers through his and squeeze. “I know, Steve. Can I get you dressed?”

He nods numbly and you lead him to your shared bedroom, grabbing him a clean pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He pulls them on gingerly, and you pull him to bed after, tucking him in.

“Stay,” he whispers, voice cracking and eyes pleading.

You slide under the covers with him, and he holds you closely, tightly, almost cutting off your breathing. He mumbles apologies into your hair, and you reach to his side to lightly pinch a sensitive spot.

“Hey.” You look up at him. “You better stop being sorry. I mean it.”

“But -”

“Genuinely nothing you do or say is going to make me get up and leave. Nothing. Not a thing. Because I know who you are, and I know who you’ve been. I know you don’t mean to snap. I know you’re scared. And that’s not grounds for apologies.”

He frowns. “I just don’t want to push you away.”

“I know it’s hard right now.” You reach up and push his hair away from his face again. “But I will be patient with you because I love you and you deserve it. You deserve the world.” He opens his mouth to protest again, but you press a finger to his lips. “No. I am going to go make you good food and dessert, and then I’m going to hold you all night. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says behind your finger.

You remove your finger and kiss him softly. “Take a nap, okay? I’m up, I’m here. I’ll protect you tonight.”

He squeezes you. “Promise?”

“Swear,” you reply. “Now let me go make you decent food, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats quietly.

You don’t move for a moment. Finally you whisper, “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“I love you,” he whispers. “My everything.”

“No, you.”

Steve smiles and buries his face in your hair again. “No, you.”

===

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #my fics #the way I projected onto Steve....

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mrvdocks · 3 years

Text

Plus One

Summary: Steve gets some closure. You and Nancy get a big surprise.

A/N: well, well, well, here we are. One chapter away from the finale. I hope you guys enjoy it. :)

Two weeks. You’d been gone for two weeks.

At first, he thought you just needed some time to cool off, so he waited. And waited.

And waited.

When you didn’t return after the third day, that’s when he started to panic. He’d called Robin, only to be met with an earful of how you were too good for him and that he needed to make a reassessment of his life. He knew that.

The days started to feel long and lonely. Mickey was there sure, but he was starting to miss your presence. Your loud and annoying laughter didn’t fill his ears when he would watch your favorite shows. He wished you’d come out of the room at times and yell at him for using your luxurious things.

He’d broken the foot tub. He didn’t know how, but he’d broken it and he wasn’t nearly as knowledgeable about fixing things as much as you were.

Just when he was cleaning up his mess for the day, there was a knock on the door. He froze.

His heartbeat suddenly started to shake and rattle against his rib cage. There was an uneasy feeling in his stomach. One where you know you’ve done something wrong and tried to put it off and now have to face it.

He exhales slowly, dropping what he’s doing and preparing himself for the worst. Maybe you’d push past him or call him names or take Mickey. He thinks taking Mickey would be worse. He didn’t like being alone with his thoughts and God knows he couldn’t charm anyone else to spend time with him lately.

He opens the door in a swift motion, ready to say the usual “I’m sorry” but is met with someone he did not ever expect to see in the area.

Don Harrington. And company.

He’s in a grey suit jacket and jeans and sensible shoes, all things Steve hadn’t seen in a long time. Next to Don are two kids, the same kids that he hadn’t seen since he’d left Hawkins.

“Stranger! Stranger!” They yell in unison, pointing at Steve.

“Guys! It’s okay, it’s just Steve, remember?” Don laughs charmingly, bringing his hands onto the boys’ shoulders and rubbing them to calm them down.

“Dad?” Steve asks, completely wide-eyed.

The kids push past Steve and begin their scream-a-thon again. Steve is too struck by his father standing in front of him to even care that they’re probably making a mess inside.

“Hey son,” Don shoves his hands into his suit jacket. “Got a minute?”

Steve sighs.

Steve reaches for the water basin to give his dad water and almost hides his opened bottle of alcohol but in a small thought, offers it to his dad. Don refuses it, saying he’s watching his figure. Steve scoffs to himself, just a few years earlier his dad would’ve loved a cup, or at least the whole thing.

“What are you doing here, Dad?” Steve asks, pouring the water.

Don’s fingers tapped against the wooden table in drum-like motions. “Can’t a father visit his son with his future step-brothers? I’m worried about you, kid, you haven’t responded to any of my calls.”

Steve stops pouring. “Let’s not do this, alright?”

Don’s brows furrow. “Do what?”

Steve shoves the basin to the side. “Don’t pretend like you want to be there for me now. You had all that time then, why now?”

Don shuts his eyes.

“Steve, I’m sorry. Really, I am. Listen, I know I wasn’t the greatest -”

“You were a grade-A asshole who ruined our family.”

Don doesn’t fight with his son. He knows his sins. But that’s what he’s here for, atonement.

“Did I make some harsh decisions for you to toughen up? Yes. Did I make your mother and you lose trust in me? Yes, but I’m here now Steve. I didn’t leave. I could’ve but I didn’t.”

“So all of this,” he gestures to Don and the kids, “suddenly just makes up for all the bullshit you’ve given me? Do you know how many times I heard mom crying in the middle of the night? All those times she pretended like those business trips you took were actually for business? Hell, do you even remember what happened when I left?”

“Yes, I do.” Don nods, closing his eyes again in uneasy remembrance.

It would be better if the past was just forgotten.

“I know you’re angry at me. You have every right to be, but I did say I wanted to bury the hatchet. Everything I did is in the past now, your mother and I - you know, we moved on. She found someone and I did too. I think it’s only fair that you do as well. And I see you have.”

Steve tenses up a little at the latter half of Don’s sentence. He did, didn’t he?

“Yeah. Maybe not, Dad.” Steve avoids his father’s eyes and fiddles with things on the counter.

Don catches on. “Why?”

Exasperated, Steve stops what he’s doing.

“What happened? You made this girl sound like she was your soulmate tenfold!”

“Maybe soulmates don’t exist, Dad. Maybe not for me anyway.” Steve plops himself down in front of his dad, clutching the mug of water to sober himself up more.

Don frowns. “What happened?”

Steve hesitates. He’s never bared his feelings to his dad since he left. And even then, it was all just dry replies and sarcasm and bitterness. But maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the fact that his dad really does seem like he’s changed.

“I screwed it up. I just let myself get in my head and I - I pushed her away.”

Don places a comforting hand atop his son’s own. Steve recoils at first but settles. His father had never been too affectionate, no, that was his mother’s job. It felt off.

But it also felt a little more comfortable, honest. Like there wasn’t a hint of being affectionate for the sake of hiding some grand affair.

“Steve, you’d tell me the truth if I asked you right?”

“I guess.”

“Do you hate Mary?”

“What? No. No.”

“Then why are you so mad about us?”

“I’m not mad, Dad. I just - when you and mom split, it messed me up. I didn’t want to be like you guys. I just wanted to find the one and hang onto her forever. And now I’m completely alone, so. And you’re just moving onto your next family.”

“Steve, I’m sorry that your mother and I splitting up hurt you so much. I’d be nothing if I hadn’t met her and I also wouldn’t have you. But kiddo, as long as your mother and I are alive, you’ll never be alone. Including your girlfriend. It's not too late to fix things."

“Thanks for letting me crash here, Nancy. I promise I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You say, fixing up your couch bed.

Nancy waves your concern away.

“Don’t even worry about it, it’s nice having company. Plus it gets kind of lonely at night.” She says, setting the white timer on and setting it down on the counter.

“You cooking something?”

“No….just trying to time something.” She says vaguely. You don’t read too much into it for now.

Nancy smiles warmly instead, passing you a thick fleece blanket from the other couch. Jonathan was off doing a piece on the Northern Lights somewhere in Alaska. When Nancy had first revealed to him that you were staying with her until things settled, he had a few choice words for Steve.

You felt odd, having turned Steve’s friends somewhat against him. Nancy reassured you that this was familiar territory. They knew how Steve was. This is how she had remembered him in Hawkins during that honeymoon period they were in.

“Do you miss him?” Nancy asks, settling into the blanket with you and putting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. She was about to play the movie you two had debated on for a solid three minutes.

You shrugged as you fiddled with the chipped nail polish on your fingers. “I love him, Nance. But if I can’t convince him that nothing’s going on, then what’s the point?”

You sigh as you close your eyes and try to imagine when the last time you saw Steve happy was. You think the day in California was the best day of your life. He was like a little kid again, running around the boardwalk and trying to impress you with the “test your strength” games. The sunset perfectly illuminated him when you laid on the cooling sand, a single curl falling loose on his forehead from his quiffed hair.

“I don’t think you should let this deter you. Maybe Steve’s just scared. I mean why wouldn’t he? He’s had a fear of unfaithfulness forever. His parents, his friends, me and Jonathan. To him, there’s always been someone better.”

“I know.” You frown. “But, and excuse the cliche, when I’m with him - it’s like nobody else matters. If I was still with Danny the second I moved in with Steve and Robin, I think I would’ve been in trouble.”

Nancy’s brows perk up, intrigued. “How so?”

“I’ve been in love with Steve since the day I moved in. I promised myself I wouldn’t move on so fast after Danny but, I messed up that day.”

Nancy smiles at the sweet thought.

You shake your head in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t his type after all.”

“Oh please, you’re definitely his type. Smart, tough, independent AND you have the balls to call him out on his bull? You’re his dream girl!”

You blush at the compliment. “Thanks, Nance.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, let’s riff on this romcom and throw popcorn when things get too cheesy.”

The movie goes on for half an hour, the bottom of the tv set covered in popcorn bits and kernels. You and Nancy laugh hysterically and boo at the cheesy romantic scenes whenever they pop up. When the timer goes off Nancy glances over her shoulder and stands, giving you the half-empty bowl of popcorn.

“I’ll be back.” She says, going to the upstairs bathroom.

“Alright, but don’t take too long. I think Tom Hanks gets naked in the next scene.”

“I won’t.” She chuckles and disappears.

You take a handful of popcorn in your hand and dump it in the hood of your sweater, bobbing for it in an attempt to stay distracted.

Five minutes pass and Nancy hasn’t returned. You glance at the time on the tape player. It’s only so long that you can bear to stare at Tom Hanks’ eyes before he loses his charm.

“Nancy?” You call out, hearing shifting from upstairs. No response though.

You count to three, getting up and letting pieces of popcorn fall to the ground.

“Naaancy.” You step onto the stairs carefully, grabbing onto the wooden railing.

Still no answer. You huff and resolve to go up the stairs.

“Nancy if this is your idea of a prank, just know it’s not great! I don’t get scared easily!”

You make it all the way to the top and glance down both ends of the hallway. You see a light on at the end of the hallway on the left, the door left ajar just enough to see the shower. You approach with caution, hoping not to catch Nancy in an unflattering position.

“Nancy?” You call again, now at the front of the bathroom door. You can hear sniffles like someone’s crying. Your brows furrow.

“Nancy?” You swing the bathroom door open slowly, meeting a crying Nancy on the floor next to the toilet.

“Hey,” Your voice lowers an octave and becomes soft. “You okay?”

You kneel down to her level and put a hand on her back, rubbing in circles.

She shakes her head, revealing a white stick in her hand. Your eyes widen when you realize what it is.

“These aren’t real right? These are joke tests?”

Nancy looks up at you in teary puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t know,” she hiccups. “I don’t know what to do. I was hoping it was a false alarm.”

Trying to make her feel better, you grab one of the untouched sticks and sit on the top of the toilet. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll pee on one too, and then we can see if it’s a false positive okay?”

“Okay.” She murmurs softly, chin now resting on her knees as she cowers against the shower door.

“Have you and Jonathan talked about this kind of stuff?” You ask, shimmying your sweats down.

She shrugs and looks to the side. “It’s too early. He’s just so focused on his career and I just got this job….it’s in the plans...just - not right now.”

You cock your head to the side with a sympathetic look.

“Hey. It’s all going to work out fine alright? You don’t have to tell him yet. We can figure it out. I’ll help you.”

Nancy sniffles and dabs at her teary eyes. She nods.

You both wait for the test results after a few minutes. You try to make her feel better with some small talk but you can tell the results weigh heavily on her mind. You grab the stick when enough time has passed, eager to make her feel better until you take a look at it.

“See? Nothing to be worried about.” You reassure her, waving the stick a few inches away from her face.

Nancy does a double-take. Her mouth formed an “O”.

“What?” Your grin falls. “Two lines means not pregnant right?”

She stands quickly, balancing herself on the edge of the sink. “Two lines is….pregnant.”

Your heart drops.

“Please say you’re joking.”

“No, it says it right here, look.” She hands you the paper from the box and on it clear as day, two lines equal pregnant.

You drop the stick onto the sink and start to hyperventilate. Nancy abandons the paper and wraps an arm around you.

“Are you? Are you - pregnant too?”

“No! No, I can’t be. I - I haven’t had sex since like Halloween week!”

Nancy gives you a knowing look. Your face falls.

“I’m too young to be pregnant!” You exclaim.

“What?”

“Nothing, brain fart.”

You rush out the bathroom door and downstairs to the kitchen where she keeps the home phone. You dial Robin’s number as fast as you can and tap your feet impatiently as you hear the line trilling.

“Come on, pick up.” You whisper.

Nancy rushes downstairs to stand in the doorway, clutching the manual and listening.

“Hello?” Robin’s voice alleviates some of your panic.

“Hold on I’m putting you on speaker.” You say, letting Nancy get a better listen.

“What? What’s going on? Did Steve apologize yet?”

You exhale shakily. “No, no he didn’t, I - um, I have something to tell you.”

You can hear Robin set down whatever she was holding as you capture her full attention. “What is it? You’re scaring me.”

“There’s no easy way to say this….but…I think, I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?! Shut up!” Robin screeches. “Kali! Get in here!”

“What happened?” You hear Kali’s voice a split second later.

“Say what you just said again!” Robin commands.

“Kali, I think I’m pregnant.”

“You’re what?!?!” She gasps.

“I know!” You clap your hands over your face in shame and silently scream into them.

“Oh my god, what have you done? To like - the world?!” Robin cuts in.

“Robin…” Kali scolds.

“I’m sorry!”

“Oh god, what do I do?” You question the speakerphone.

“That kid is going to come out with a full head of hair and try to flirt with the nurse the second it’s born.” Robin bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Not funny, Robin!” You glare at the phone, trying to remain calm.

“Well, now you have to tell him!” Kali says.

“No, I don’t! You saw how well things went over a coffee machine, imagine a kid!”

“You have to! What if this is what he needs to stop acting like a kid?” Robin tries to reason. “He was always good with kids in high school and part of the reason is that those were his only friends!”

You cringe, remembering those stories.

“If losing his best friend wasn’t enough for him to stop acting like an idiot, what makes you think throwing a kid into the mix would?”

“I dunno. But Kali’s right. You have to tell him. Otherwise what happens when you start showing and the worst thing he can think is you’re getting fat?”

You scoff.

“Maybe they’re right,” Nancy chimes in. “I mean, how long are you going to go without talking to him? You have to make up at some point.”

You groan in frustration, raking your hands through your hair.

“I really hate that I consider you guys my moral compass. I truly do.”

Having responsible friends really was a pain sometimes.

The phone line rings and blares red as another call was coming through.

“That must be Jonathan.” Nancy guesses.

“Robin hold on, Jonathan might be on the line.”

“Oh good, I want to know what he thinks of all this.”

Nancy puts Robin on hold and picks up the phone from the receiver.

“Hello? Hold on, hold on, what’s going on?”

You can hear whoever’s calling speaking fast.

“No, she’s not here.” She lies.

You take a break from your panic attack to try and listen to the frantic voice on the other end. It’s all too fast for you to understand.

“You’re where? Slow down!” Nancy asks, glancing at you now and pointing to the phone.

“It’s Steve.” She mouths.

You freeze.

“Okay! Okay! I’ll let her know if I see her.” She hangs up and presses the button to get Robin back.

“What’s the sitch?”

“He said something about a dog.”

“Mickey?” Your voice grows concerned.

“I guess? He just said that something was wrong and he went to take him to the animal hospital.”

Your stomach dropped to your ass. You rushed over to the front door and put on your shoes as fast as you could.

“Did he say which one?” You ask, borrowing one of Jonathan’s coats. There was no way you were going out there in just sweats and a henley.

“Ummm I don’t know, I think the one on West and 61st street.”

“That’s where I work!” You exclaim. “You don’t have a car?”

Nancy shakes her head. “Jonathan’s the one who drives.”

“What about you Robin?”

“No can do, me and Kali have a meeting but keep me posted! Good luck!”

“Screw it I’ll take a cab.” You say goodbye to Nancy and rush out the door and brave the cold.

You whistle down a cab and hop in. “Murray’s Animal Hospital, please. And step on it!”

“Wait, (Y/N)? Is that you?” A familiar voice asks you.

The driver turns around, revealing himself to be…..speak of the devil, Danny.

“Danny? Oh for fuck’s sake.” You sigh and rub at your temples.

“Hey!” He says in a lighthearted tone. “Long time no see.”

“Danny, I will literally pay you extra to shut up and drive like hell alright?”

Danny does as he’s told and hauls ass. You grab a hold of the bar on top of your head for each swerve and crazed turn he does that earns him a honk of the horn from other cars and nearly sends you flying out of your seat.

Two messy car ride minutes later and you rush out of the taxi as soon as he parks outside the entrance to the animal hospital.

“Hey!”

“Give me a minute!” You flip him off and ignore him as you try not to think of the worst-case scenario happening with Mickey.

You must look like a lunatic to the girl sitting at your desk with wild hair and an overall messy appearance. You try your best to fix yourself up.

“Where is he? Where’s Mickey?” You ask frantically.

“Who?” Your replacement sitting at your desk asks.

“A black dog! He came in with someone, big hair? Big head?”

She gets the gist and points to the right and down the hallway. You take deep breaths as you will yourself to put on a brave face.

Steve’s sitting on a chair with his face in his hands. He looks up when he hears the patterning of your footsteps against the sheet vinyl flooring. He gets up quickly, nearly knocking the chair over.

“H-Hey.” He says nervously, hand on his arm.

Come on, you can do this. You can do this.

“Hey.” You breathe.

He’s taking you in from top to bottom. It’s the first time he’s seen you since Halloween night.

“I missed you.”

“What happened?”

You both say in unison.

Your mouth falls agape as you take in his confession. Fortunately, he pretends like your question took more priority.

“I don’t know. One second my stepbrothers are playing with him, the next he’s choking on some toy they brought.”

“What was so important that you couldn’t keep an eye on him? I knew it. I knew I should’ve come back for him.”

You didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but the situation was starting to make you realize something. Say you did have this kid, would it even survive for a month?

“My dad came to visit.” He stares down at the tips of his shoes, shoving his hands into his pockets. The same way he did last time you saw him.

“Oh.” You let out. Well, this changes things.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to fix things.”

“Did it work?”

He shrugs. “Having that talk with him, it made me realize something.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “What is it?”

“Hey, you coming or not? The meter’s running.” Danny’s voice comes to interrupt a peaceful conversation.

“Danny.” Steve acknowledges.

“Hey,” Danny replies, eyeing him. “Stan, right?”

“It’s actually Steve.” He corrects.

Danny laughs it off. “Okay man.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you know this situation just took a turn. You grab a handful of bills from your pocket and shove them into his chest.

“Fuck off.” You command.

Danny takes his wad of money and leaves.

Things fall silent again as Steve clears his throat.

“So….Danny huh?”

“Oh shut up, I needed a ride. I didn’t know he was the one driving the damn cab.”

“Does he know about me?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I figure the whole sleeping with my sister thing cancels out if he sees me with someone else.”

Steve nods, confused.

Beat.

“Can I...can I tell you something?” Steve asks, getting closer and closer to you. You feel butterflies when he does.

“Please don’t make a big speech.”

“It’s not a big speech. It’s a medium - medium speech.”

“Okay….”

“You were right. You were completely and totally right about me. I am an asshole. And you were right about these weddings. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I would get in my head about all these things that the perfect person should or shouldn’t be. And I’ve been thinking. A lot. Being alone in that apartment made me realize something.”

“That you’re lonely and afraid of commitment?”

He chuckles. “No. You’re not there to insult me or make fun of me when I come home from work. You’re not there to tell me how much of an idiot I look in the groomsmen photos or how my speech was shitty. You’re not even there with me and Mickey.”

He’s starting to tear up, his eyes get blurry and watery and he has to wipe discreetly at them. It was time to confront his demons and make it up to you. Being alone was just a taste of what would become of him if he didn’t swallow his pride.

“And I know the only reason you’re not there is because I hurt you. I hurt the one person who never deserved it. And I pushed you away because I’m stupid and I’m selfish and fuck me for being too late but I love you! I love you.”

You felt your lip quivering with each little detail he added about his epiphany. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was the declaration of love.

“Y-You love me?” Your voice cracks.

“Of course.” He breathes out, hands reaching for yours to take reassuringly.

“Steve...I really….I have to tell you something.”

“Please don’t say you and Danny are back together.”

“No...no it’s not that,” you try to work up the courage to tell him. “I’m....I think - I’m pregnant.”

Steve steps back for a moment. He feels the shock settle in. He lets out a surprised gasp as he takes both his hands and folds them behind his head.

“You’re what?”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #plus one #stranger things imagine #HERE YOU GO

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stevesnailbat · 4 years

Text

i shouldn’t be feeling this, but it’s too hard to resist | robin buckley

summary: Y/N is falling for someone, but it’s not someone they planned to fall for.

warnings: mutual pining, slightest mentions of homophobia

word count: 1.9K

a/n: this fic is loosely based off girls by girl in red!! i feel like the song just fits robin so perfectly, so here’s my take on it! i’m changing my writing style to be more inclusive also, so the perspective is different on this one! the gif used above is by @harringtown once again!!!

You knew you shouldn’t have said yes to it. But there you were, sitting on the edge of Robin Buckley’s bed, chewing on your lip nervously as you waited for her to come back into the room.

You and Robin were meant to be nothing more than coworkers at Family Video, maybe acquaintances at most. You had planned on it staying that way, and on keeping your distance. But, there was always just something special about Robin. There was something about Robin's smile that was so convincing, so inviting, so beautiful. There was something that kept pulling you back in for more.

Just friends, you told yourself, nothing more. You didn’t want it to progress into anything more—it couldn’t possibly progress into anything more, not if you wanted to save yourself from the judgement that would most likely ensue.

When the door opened once more, you had to look away, avoiding eye contact with her. You could feel her eyes on you as she walked in with the widest grin, plopping down on the bed next to where you were perched. She sat a bowl of popcorn down on the bed along with a movie and a few boxes of candy after sitting down.

“I snuck a copy of Carrie from the store, I remembered you said you liked that one.” Robin said as she leaned down to rifle through some things under her bed. “Do you want to drink? I bought some wine because I thought it’d be fun to, y’know, let loose for once.”

“Oh—uh—yeah!” you reply with a nervous smile, only making eye contact with her for a fraction of a second. “I’ll take some.”

She smiled over at you again as she pulled the bottle and corkscrew from under the bed, working to open it as soon as she took it out. You cursed yourself for how awkward you were making the situation, but it was unavoidable. Every time you looked at her you felt like your heart was going to explode, so you avoided it at all costs. You knew it was wrong, what you were feeling about her. It felt so wrong that it made the pit of your stomach turn in knots and your heart ache. The feeling wasn’t going away any time soon, though.

Robin could tell something was up from the moment you walked into the house, truthfully. In the past four months of working with you, she’d developed a theory that you just flat out didn’t like her, so she wanted that to change. There were shifts where you would ignore her completely, and others where you’d only give her a sympathetic smile when she’d talk to you.

She didn’t know what she did, but Robin wanted to get to the bottom of it. She had randomly sprung the idea of hanging out on you in the middle of a shift with her and Steve, you couldn’t say no to her. When you said yes, she was downright thrilled to actually get to know you after working quietly alongside you for this long.

You couldn’t help but stare at her as she worked the corkscrew into the bottle, taking in every little detail of her face for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself tear your gaze away as she continued, eyes wandering as she tugged her lip between her teeth. It was impossible to not think about how soft her lips looked, and how perfect she looked altogether. If someone could read your mind, they might think you were just jealous of the girl. But, truly, the feeling was something much more than jealousy. It was something along the lines of a feeling of longing and desire.

“Finally!” Robin proclaimed, setting the cork on the bed beside her as you broke from your daze. “Here, you can have the first drink and get comfortable while I get the movie set up.”

You nodded and smiled at her, but suddenly lost all desire to drink the alcohol in your hands. There was already a feeling of intoxication building inside of you, built on being around Robin alone. Just looking at her was enough to make you feel a little drunk. Her beauty was overwhelming to you, almost painful to think about in a way. Slowly, you had come to terms with the fact that what you were feeling wasn’t temporary, that what you were feeling—despite how wrong it felt—was there to stay.

“You alright?” she asked when she turned around to see you still sitting on the edge of the bed, frozen with the untouched bottle still in your hand.

“Yeah—yeah, sorry. I’m fine.” you lied, forcing a smile onto your lips as your heart pounded against your ribs.

“You don't seem fine.” Robin pointed out, setting the movie on top of the VCR as she furrowed her brows in concern. “What’s up?”

“It’s really nothing, I—I guess I’m just tired, that’s all.” you lied, hoping she wouldn’t see through the thinly-veiled lie you were telling. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be boring and fall asleep as soon as I get here."

“It’s okay!” she said quickly, moving away from the TV to sit next to you on the bed again. “We can just hang out and talk instead, if you want, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine!” you stammered abruptly, looking at the bowl of popcorn next to you to avoid her gaze again.

“Are you going to homecoming next weekend?” she asked, moving around on the bed to face you once more as she broke the odd silence.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to.” you laughed bitterly, rolling your eyes at the thought of it.

“You don't seem too thrilled about that. Do you not have a date or something?” she implored, reaching her hand out to take the bottle from your hands. “Or do you have a date and just not like them?”

“Yeah—Yeah, that one.” you said, cringing about it once more. “I’m supposed to go with my brother’s friend from the football team but I’m not interested at all. He’s—He’s just not—“

“He’s just a typical jock who’s boring and doesn’t want to have any real fun?” Robin interjected, eyebrows quirking up as a smile grew on her lips.

He’s not you, Robin Buckley. He’s not the girl with perfect skin and pretty blue eyes that looks fucking perfect in a flannel. He’s not the one who makes you want to scream into a pillow about what you were feeling. That’s what you wanted to say. You wanted to grab her by the shoulders and tell her that you really, really wanted to go with her, but you knew you couldn’t. What would your family say? What would everyone at school say? And most importantly, what would Robin even say if you told her?

“Yeah, I guess that’s probably what it is.” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders to brush it off in the most casual way possible. “I don’t want to act like I like the kid for a whole night, it feels like such a stupid waste of my time.”

“Well, don’t go with him then.” she suggested simply, watching as you tilt your head at her straightforward proposal. “Is there someone else that you actually want to go with?”

“Yeah—I mean, I don’t—I don't know.” you stuttered, a blush settling onto your cheeks as the words slipped from your lips.

“I heard you say yes at first, you can’t take that back!” she said, her eyes lighting up with amusement. “Who is it? Is it that one kid who comes into the store all the time?”

“God no! That kid isn’t in there to flirt, I think he actually just watches a different movie every damn night.” you giggled shyly, heart skipping a beat at the sound of Robin laughing with you.

“Well, who is it then?” Robin asked again, shoving her hand into the bowl of popcorn as if she was watching some interesting movie. “Actually, just tell me about them. You don’t have to name any names, just tell me why you like them. Is that easier?”

“Yeah, that works.” you sighed, chewing on your lip as you finally looked over to her. “I don’t really know where to start, I guess. They’re really like, one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. Obviously we’ve went to school together for a while, but I really have grown to like them a lot—like a lot—in the last few months. And—And I feel like shit for pushing them away for so long, but I just can’t bring myself to fully face how I feel.”

Robin continued to listen intently as you spoke, but was catching on rather quickly. She was shocked, to say the least. She never would’ve known that you felt this way, and would’ve done something about it a lot sooner if she had. There was a twisted feeling in your gut as you spoke, looking to Robin to see the waves of realization hitting her all at once.

“Why don’t—or didn’t—you want them to know?” Robin questioned, tearing her gaze away from yours to stare at her hands.

“Because I’m afraid of how they feel about me, and of what other people will say if I try to be with them.” you said softly, heart sinking as Robin’s smile faded into a focused frown.

“Yeah, I was scared too.” she replied, making your eyes go wide in shock for a moment. “I still am, I guess. I just have people who I know will actually support me, instead of ones who would disown me.”

“You—You’re—”

“Yeah, I am.” Robin laughed softly, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “I’m not very good at this whole thing yet. Which is obvious, considering I didn’t realize you might actually like me until just now.”

“Might like you?” you laughed, making her look up at you with a hope-filled gaze. “I really like you, Robin.”

“Well good.” she sighed, inching closer to you as she spoke. “Because I’m tired of shoving my feelings away every time I see you.”

You smiled, looking away for a moment as butterflies filled your gut. There was a feeling of relief in the air that was quickly replacing the dread and doubt that had filled the room minutes before. Robin reached to put her hand on top of yours, making your heart flutter for a quick moment. Her free hand hooked under your chin, pulling your gaze back to hers as she smiled at you longingly.

“I’m glad you could finally talk to me about this.” she admitted, her thumb rubbing along your cheek gently. “And I’m glad we could both get this off our chests.”

“Yeah, me too.” you replied with a nervous smile. “And since we’re on the subject, there’s something else I’ve been wanting to get off my chest for a while.”

Robin knew exactly what you were doing as she saw your eyes flicker towards her lips, but the feeling still made her heart race. You both had wanted this to happen for a while, and it was finally happening. You cupped her cheek and pulled her into the kiss, keeping it short and sweet. Her lips were just as wonderful and sweet as you had expected, and that thrilled you.

“Do you wanna watch the movie now?” you teased, brushing a strand of her behind her ear.

“I think the movie can wait, because I wanna do that again.” she laughed, pulling you back in for another sweet kiss.

tags (join here!) : @sourapplebaby @harringtown @jxnehxpper @charmed-asylum @heart-eye-harrington @daddystevee @a-magey @lemonypink @igotmadskills @ilovebucketbarnes @simplesammyx @willowrose99

#robin buckley #robin buckley x you #robin buckley fluff #stranger things #stranger things 1 #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #robin buckley one shot #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley fanfiction #robin buckley x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things one shot #stranger things x you

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Steve//i can see a better time, when all our dreams come true

hey! last part! i just want to say thank you to everyone who’s read, liked, reblogged and supported this series! you all mean the absolute world to me. i know this is gonna sound cringey or whatever, but this series is more than just that. i was originally supposed to write and post this last christmas. but something that i can’t really remember stopped me and i was so disappointed in myself. then this hell hole of a year happened and i had a major mental health crisis (something i am still recovering from) meaning i couldn’t do anything but watch the same three tv shows and scroll through instagram for about 3 months, as well as a bunch of other awful things. i thought it would be a miracle to just start writing requests again, but then when i was going through a notebook, i found this idea and remembered how much i loved it and how upset i was that i hadn’t done it. so i thought i’d try and do it, and after many, many days and nights of me stressing about the littlest things and driving my girlfriend absolutely insane by only talking about this (sorry, i love you!), i’d done it! and i am so proud of myself! i know its not the biggest achievement of the year, but it’s mine. so again thank you to not only everyone whose read this series, but also thank you to everyone who has read and supported everything i’ve done this year. i really do hope that next year is a better one for all of you! happy new year my loves!

They say that time moves in different ways depending on the situation.

For example, the day you spent hours driving to the beach with Steve and Robin felt like it was over in five minutes. But the time stuck under ground in a really crappy elevator with them felt more like a week.

From the time it takes Steve to take his bandana and goggles off and to walk the three steps to you, it feels like days and seconds all at once. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to him and the two of you let out a breath you feel like you’ve been holding for the past week. Finally you feel like you can breathe again, and finally the weight on Steve’s chest shifts a little.

Your hair is matted, your clothes dirty and torn and there’s a cut on your cheek, blood slowly trickles down your cheek, staining your face and your t-shirt red. But you’re you, and you’re alive and you look like you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” You’re the first to speak, your words stumbling over each other. A chuckle mixed with a sob passes your lips as you hug him again, you hold him tighter than he’s ever been hugged before, it feels like his ribs are being crushed but he doesn’t care. He just presses a kiss against your forehead, and runs his fingers through your knotted hair.

Hot tears land on the top of your head but you don’t feel them, you’re too busy crying into his shirt and the two of you stand like that for a few minute, thankful and very overwhelmed that the other one is alive and well.

“I think I do.” He sobs and you let out a short laugh. “I love you so much Y/n. I am so fucking sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” You cup his cheeks. “I was overreacting and I shouldn’t have stormed off. It’s fine.” You say and press a quick kiss to his lips, they’re salty because of the tears but neither of you care. “I love you Steve.” You finish and he breathes deeply, his shoulders sagging and the only thing that keeps him from falling is you.

“I thought you were dead.” He cries.

“Nah. You can’t get rid of me that easy.” You try, nudging his shoulder but he doesn’t smile.

“I thought I’d never see you again. I thought...I thought.”

“I’m fine.” You cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “Look. I’m good.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He teases and you stare at him offended.

“Rude. You do know that I almost died right?”

“You’re so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes and yours widen.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry who came all the way into an alternate dimension just to save me? Oh right. You.”

“I only did that because I had nothing better to do. You know after boxing day things got a bit boring.” He shrugs and you slap his shoulder.

“Asshole.” You mumble making him laugh. “How did you find me?”

“Do you really think I’d forget the place we first met?” He replies, sending you a look and you squint up at him, the light from his torch blinding you slightly. “Sorry.” He mumbles and quickly turns it off.

“I thought given the circumstances you would have at least tried.” You shrug, staring at the floor.

“Nah. Surprisingly it was the best day of my life.” He confesses and it surprises not only you but himself. That’s something he never thought he’d say.

He thought Halloween 1984 would be a day that always hurt to think about. And yeah, thinking about what Nancy said to him still stung, but then he remembers you.

You, in a costume he didn’t quite get. Your expression full of irritation that only softened when you saw him crying. You who asked what was wrong and stayed with him until he decided he wanted to go home. You who the next day found him to make sure he was okay.

“Will you marry me?” He asks and your eyes widen.

“What?” You splutter and he stares at you hopefully.

“I love you more than I have loved anything ever. You’re my favourite person ever, you make every day brighter. On days where I think I can’t do anything, when I think my dad is right about all the the shit he’s said and that little nagging voice in my head is shouting, you’re always there to tell me I’m wrong. You’ve helped me when I’ve been broken up with, beaten up and drugged. You fought a Russians for me and beaten up creatures from another dimension without even knowing what it was. I’ve never felt safer or happier with you by my side. I know I’m an idiot, but still...will you marry me?”

“Steve.” You gasp, tears roll down your cheeks mixing with the blood and goo. “Yes. Yes I will marry you.” You reply and he lets of a sigh of relief. “Although, you didn’t get on one knee, and I don’t see a ring.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

His hands cup your cheeks delicately, he ducks his head down and presses a gentle kiss against your chapped and sore lips.

“Steve? Steve? Are you okay?” Robin’s voice crackles through the walkie-talkie and you jump apart, suddenly remembering where you are. A loud crash comes from just outside and you and Steve freeze and stare at each other.

Thunder booms so loud it rings in your ears for a few seconds after and Steve feels the weight come back, only this time its shared with you too.

“I’ve got her.” He says slowly and eyes the bathroom suspiciously. “If you’re not already at the portal, go now. We’re on our way back...over.” He says and you hear a collection of relived sighs.

“Yay! You said it!” Annie cheers and Steve rolls his eyes.

“What she means is we’re glad you’re both okay. Now get your ass back.” Robin adds and you and Steve don’t need to be told twice. Steve grabs the bat he dropped on the floor and reaches for your hand. He starts to pull you but is instantly stopped when he hears your cry in pain.

“What? What’s wrong?” He’s in front of you instantly, looking you up and down for any injuries, and then his eyes land on your leg, and you watch him pale.

“Stupid ugly thing got me.” You mumble and glance down at it, you cringe at the sight of the now brown blood, and inflamed scratches. Yeah, there is no way you’re going to be able to get that stain out.

“Can you walk.” He asks and looks around for anything to help.

“I’ll be fine Steve. I just need to get used to it.” You reply.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Come on. I don’t want to be in Tina’s bathroom anymore than I already have been.”

“Same.” He huffs and wraps his bandana around you.

“What about you?” You ask while he puts the goggles on you.

“I’ll be fine.” He waves you off. “It’s only a bit of dust.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “Now come on.” He says quicker and wraps an arm around you. The two of you hobble towards the front door, tripping on a few vines and branches.

Steve helps you balance against the wall and the front door creaks as he pulls it open.

“Okay.” He nods and looks back at you. “Nothing is waiting to kill us so I think we’ll be fine.”

Famous last words.” You smirk and he rolls his eyes at you while helping you walk again.

As soon as your outside, the door slams closed making the two of you jump. Wind rushes around the two of you and brown and black works its way into the cracks of the sky. Buildings tumble down around you, almost as if an invisible force is stomping on each of them. You and Steve share a look as the chaos seems to get closer and closer to you.

“Shall we go then?” Steve asks, his eyes wide with fear and you quickly nod.

“Yep.” You reply. “I hate parties anyway.” You say and a small smile twitches on your lips. Steve returns it and the two of you make your way down the steps and onto the street.

Thankfully, Tina doesn’t live that far from you. In the past that was something you hated because it meant you couldn’t get out of parties, this time however, you’re very grateful for the closeness of your homes.

In an ideal world, it means you’ll be able to get back to the right and semi-safe world in less than twenty minutes. However, if the past seven years have taught you and Steve anything, it’s that you don’t live in an ideal world. You live in the opposite in fact.

Like you said, the habitants of The Upside Down, don’t care much for cleaning, and it’s only made worse now that the entire things seems to be collapsing around you. Either it’s doing it on purpose so none of you can escape, or all of you just have some really bad timing.

“So this whole place is dying?” You ask and look around. It certainly looks like it’s dying. It has done since you woke up and its only gotten worse. You also thought it was strange that you hadn’t been eaten by now.

“Yep.” He replies. “Apparently all those times we thought we’d won but hadn’t. Did actually do something. It just took a while for it to feel the affect.”

“And I’m in here because?”

“Annie said that whatever dragged you in, was probably looking for anything to eat.” He replies and you think about it for a few seconds.

“So why didn’t it eat me?”

“How the hell am I suppose to know.” He says. “Do I look like the scientist here?”

“Furthest from actually.”

“Exactly.” He smiles.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We get out as quickly as we can.”

“The more detailed plan?” You roll your eyes.

“Dustin and Lucas got a bunch of explosives and fireworks. We’ve dumped them in here and as soon as we get out, El and Will’s going to explode them!” He says proudly and you look at him impressed.

“Wo-Watch out!”

You and Steve narrowly miss being hit by a falling tree, only to trip over some sort of decaying monster.

“Gross.” You huff and look down at your hands, now covered in blood and guts. “Are you okay Steve?” You ask while trying to stand back up.

“No.” He mumbles and you frown as you turn around to face him. He’s hunched over in the middle of the road, dry heaving and your eyebrows furrow as you watch him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, however instead of answering you’re just met with a groan. “Steve? We haven’t got all day.”

“It went in my mouth!” He exclaims and turns around, throwing his hands up in the air. “That things guts were in my mouth. I can taste blood. Oh god. I’m gonna die. Or turn into one of those. Y/n, if I turn into anything like that please just kill me. You have my permission to take a baseball bat to my head...just please, bury me somewhere nice.” He rambles making you snort a laugh. “It’s not funny Y/n.”

“It kind of is.” You reply and he glares at you.

“It’s not.” He mutters and slowly walks towards you. However he freezes when he notices your eyes widening. “What?” He asks. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t move.” You whisper and he feels his blood run cold.

“What?” He squeaks and watches you slowly limp and pick up the bat lying on the floor.

“Oh god. It’s happening isn’t. I love you Y/n. Tell Robin it was me that broke her Walkman. I told her it was Dustin, but it was me.” He closes his eyes, expecting the worst.

Something scratches at his legs and he breathes in, this is it. He’s going to die, so are you and everything is going to be for nothing. He wants to reach out for you, to hold you close and then at least you’ll be together, but he can’t he’s frozen.

And then he hears a thud, a small whine and your heavy breathing. Slowly he opens one eye, expecting to see some sort of toothy monster staring back at him. But instead he’s met with the back of your head. He watches you drop the bat, the noise echoing into the darkness and slowly he looks down.

He’s not entirely sure what tried to kill him, it’s unrecognizable now that’s been beaten into the ground, but it looks scary anyway.

“It’s the same fucker that dragged me in here in the first place.” You look over your shoulder and wipe your forehead.

“I love you so much.” He stares at you in awe. “That was hot.”

“Shut up.” You huff but wink at him anyway. “Are you okay?” You ask and glance at his leg.

“Oh, yeah.” He shrugs and looks at the small scratch. “I’ll be fine. What about you?”

“I’ll live.” You shrug.

The two of you stumble around the corner and into the forest and you watch as your friends climb through the glowing doorway to the real world.

“Guys!” Steve shouts making everyone freeze. The kids have already gone through, leaving just Nancy, Jonathan, Robin, Annie and Joyce behind. Tears form in your eyes as you stare at your friends.

“Hurry up!” Jonathan shouts.

“I’m trying! It’s a bit difficult though with my leg hanging off!” You shout back and watch as Jonathan pushes Nancy through the goo before running towards you.

“Jonathan!” Joyce shouts, her voice can barely be heard over the wind. It blows through your ears and makes you shiver. Trees move wildly around you and you watch as the sky starts to fall away.

“Well that can’t be good.” You gulp and walk a bit quicker. Jonathan stands on the other side of you, holding your waist and the three of you stumble towards the portal.

They let go of you and push you through, you land on the forest floor with a loud thud and small groan escapes your lips.

“Y/n!” The group shout and everyone moves to help you stand. You’ve never been so happy to see everyone. Robin and Annie pull Jonathan, Steve and Joyce through. And as soon as Joyce is stood up, El and Will press the detonators. There’s a loud bang that makes you all jump back, and you watch as the portal vanishes, leaving the brown of the tree trunk behind.

“Is everyone here?” Joyce asks and scans the group.

“It’s a bit late if they’re not.” Robin replies. “But yes...I think we did it. We actually did it! Yes!!” She cheers and jumps up and down. Everyone shares a look before looking back at her and even Annie looks a little concerned.

“I can’t believe you all came for me.” You pull the goggles and fabric off of your face, and tears roll down your cheeks.

“Of course we did.” Dustin hugs you.

“You didn’t think we’d leave you in there did you?” Nancy asks also wrapping you up into a tight hug. The res of the group follow and soon you’re in the middle of an eleven people hug...not that you’re complaining though.

“Jesus Christ. How long were we in there?” Steve asks and looks at the now dark sky.

“Who the fuck cares. Let’s go home.”

Fireworks crackle and explode above your head. The sky lights up with red and oranges, leading the way home for the 12 of you.

The residents hope that the bright lights will keep the darkness at bay, but from now on, they won’t have to.

“Happy New Year love.”

“Happy New Year Steve.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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