#stranger things request

Falling for Steve Harrington was not something you expected. Back in high school, you hated him. Well, hate may be too strong of a word, but you didn’t like him. He was arrogant, rude at times, and all around only seemed to care about himself, but that was before everything in Hawkins turned upside down, no pun intended.

You worked with him and Robin at Scoops Ahoy and later at Family Video. You saw how protective he was of his friends, how goofy he could be, and just how kind-hearted and caring he was. Before you even realized it, you were head over heels for him.

Steve had really proven himself time and time again that he had changed for the better, but there was one thing you knew would never change,

his feelings for Nancy.

Nancy Wheeler was perfect. Smart, ambitious, creative, driven, brave, beautiful, you could go on. Not to mention she was a complete badass. She truly was perfect, and it was no surprise that Steve fell for her, hard. And despite what your friends told you, you knew you were nothing like Nancy, not even in the slightest.

A sting echoed in your chest whenever you saw the way he looked at her, with such love and admiration. You wished you could talk to Robin about it, but to you it seemed that she was rooting for the two of them to get back together, so you wallowed in self-pity instead, allowing yourself to get lost in your daydreams of what it might be like to gain Steve’s affection. There were times when he would smile at you that you thought, if only just for the tiniest moment, he might have feelings for you, but once Nancy was even mentioned, Steve would go all moony-eyed. Lately, it seemed he was in some sort of competition with Jonathan to gain her favor. Your only saving grace with that was Nancy seemed more annoyed by it than flattered, which you didn’t blame her, there more pressing matters at hand.

One such example of Steve and Jonathan’s feud happened when you, Dustin, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan all got to Hawkins Lab in the Upside Down.

Dustin told you all his theory of there being a shield generator somewhere in the lab that would take down the wall, so you set off to look for it.

When you opened the door to the stairwell, you looked over towards the others, “Up or down?”

Nancy answered right away with a sense of determination, “I say both. Search in two teams. Cover more ground.”

“Yeah, that’s cool with me, but can we just switch the teams up? Nance, you and me go up?”

“Really, Steve?” You released a huff of air, trying not to take offence by Steve’s suggestion, but it went unnoticed when Jonathan responded to the idea in clear annoyance.

“Are you serious?”

“Me and Henderson need some space.”

“Please.” Dustin begged.

“Fine. How about me and you?” Jonathan suggested.

“I think we need some space too.” The tone of Steve’s voice shifted, and you wanted to roll your eyes

“Fine, then how about Dustin comes with us, and you go with Y/N?”

“Uh…um,” Steve hesitated, not able to come up with an answer, and it left a bitter sting in your heart.

Jonathan laughed, “What, you need space from her too? So, everyone but Nancy. That’s just convenient.”

“I don’t need space from—” Steve was cut off by Nancy.

“Hey! We don’t have time for this. Let’s just keep it simple, stick to the usual teams,” both Steve and Dustin tried to protest, but Nancy shut them down, “End of discussion.”

As Nancy and Jonathan made their way up the stairs, you turned to Steve, “Well, guess you’re stuck with me. Sorry. Let’s go.”

Steve gave an exasperated sigh before following you and Dustin down the stairs, “Just awesome.”

~

Your descent to the basement of the lab was silent. The tension between Steve and Dustin could have been cut with a knife, and a dull one at that, and the tension between you and Steve was only getting thicker, though that may have been more one-sided on your part. The silence was killing you. You just hoped that you would find this shield generator thing, so you could leave as quickly as possible before any of the tension escalated.

But things never seem to work out the way you want them to.

You had gone with Dustin to continue searching in the basement, leaving Steve in the rainbow room, much to his disappointment. The almost sad look in his eyes when you told him you were going to go with Dustin made you want to run over to him and apologize, but you didn’t feel like being alone with him. Unfortunately, your search came up empty, and when you returned to the rainbow room, you found Steve struggling to solve a Rubik’s Cube.

“Really you’re actually playing in here?” Dustin asked snidely.

“I’m just following orders, dude,” Steve threw his hands up in exasperation, the only mood he seemed to have towards Dustin lately, “Judging by your pissy look, I assume you didn’t find the shield generator.”

“I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” You answered.

“But you didn’t find it.” Steve’s cynical tone made you want to slap him; you really hated when he was like this.

“Yeah, not on this floor.” Dustin bit back in an equally irritated tone.

“Dustin’s right, let’s just head back up and catch up to Nancy and Jonathan.” You turned to head for the stairs but stopped when Steve stood up and continued berating Dustin.

“So, you were wrong.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, “You would just love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Guys,” you released an annoyed huff and muttered to yourself, “this really isn’t the time for this.”

“No, I’m just stating a fact.”

“No, you’re gloating,” Dustin countered, “Despite the fact that if I am wrong, we don’t reach past the wall, and don’t find Holly and the other kids. Do you understand how selfish you’re being?

“Okay, Dustin—” You attempted to try and deescalate, but Steve cut you off.

“Me? Selfish?” he pointed to himself then to Dustin, “You wanna talk about selfish? How about when we finally reach Hop and El, we promptly ditched them to pursue this bullshit theory of yours? Not to mention, you’re the reason that we lost contact with them in the first place because of your no-show at the crawl. So, this whole mess is actually your fault. And I haven’t heard so much as a sorry.”

“Steve—” You were cut off again by Dustin.

“Shit. Again, it’s not like I just didn’t show up, Steve. I was attacked.”

“No, you wanted a fight, and that’s exactly what you got. Just look at your face, man,” Steve stepped closer to Dustin, “You’ve done some stupid shit in the past, but this? Man, this takes the cake.”

“You wanna talk to me about dumb shit? How about chasing somebody else’s girlfriend while the world is ending?”

And with that, you admitted defeat to yourself and leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, figuring that once this long overdue argument blew over, you all could get back to the task at hand.

Steve quickly glanced over at you, then back to Dustin, “Nancy is a friend. She’s a friend, okay? You remember what that’s like? Having friends?”

“Yeah, I do remember what it was like to have a good friend, a real friend who actually believed in me, and who was actually kind to me.”

“Aha!” Steve exclaimed, wagging his finger as if he had just pulled the truth out of Dustin, “Aha!”

“What?”

“There we go. What this has all been about, really, is Eddie. All your bullshit, pushing everyone away, it’s because no one could ever be as perfect as he was.”

You noticed Dustin tense at the mention of Eddie. It was clear that Eddie’s death took a toll on Dustin. He hadn’t been the same since, and everyone moving on, even if it was just for the sake of appearances, didn’t help him with his grieving.

“He wasn’t perfect, but at least he knew that, unlike you.” Steve scoffed but Dustin continued, “He was never fake. He didn’t care what other people thought about him. He was just himself. And you know what? He was the smartest, kindest person I’ve ever met. And he would’ve solved this,” Dustin held up the Rubik’s Cube Steve had been working on, “in thirty seconds flat.

“Well, if I’m such a goddamn idiot, how come I’m the one still standing here?”

Your head snapped in Steve’s direction, and you spoke to him with urgency and sternness “Steve, don’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That night, I told you not to be heroes. I told both of you. What did Eddie do? He charged into a swarm of killer bats.”

“To save my life!”

“He saved no one.”

“Steve!” You interjected.

“He saved everyone!”

“You can keep telling yourself that, Henderson, but deep down, the reason you’re so goddamn pissed is because you know the truth. Eddie wanted play hero, and he made a dumb call, and he got himself killed.”

“Shut up!”

Dustin threw the Rubik’s Cube at Steve, then lunged at him, backing him up against the wall. Steve tried to pull him off, taking the punches that Dustin landed on his side.

“Dustin, stop!” You ran over towards them, hoping in vain that Dustin would give up the fight.

“What the hell, man? Stop it!” Steve managed to shove Dustin off, causing him to fall to the floor, but Dustin grabbed a nearby chessboard and started hitting Steve in the legs. Steve was on the defensive, only blocking Dustin’s hits and punches, not wanting to hurt him. Right as Dustin was about to land another hit, you grabbed his arm, telling him again to stop. He shoved you back with enough force to make you crash into one of the shelves of toys and games and fall to the floor. You heard Steve scream out your name before Dustin landed another blow, this time to his face.

“Enough, man! Enough!” Steve grabbed Dustin, trying to pin down his arms, “Stop!”

Dustin drove Steve back into the wall again, and they both fell to the floor.

As Steve began to stand up, he looked at Dustin with a pained expression, “You know what, man? I’m done,” he walked over to you and crouched down, “You good?”

You nodded, allowing Steve to take hold of your hand and help you stand.

“I’m done.” Steve said again as the two of you left the room.

“Alright, yeah, just go and crawl back to Nance!” Dustin yelled, “You dumb…fake asshole!”

The sadness in Dustin’s voice broke your heart. You wanted to stay and make sure he was alright, but Steve pulled you along until you were back in the stairwell.

He sat you down on the stairs and crouched down in front of you, looking over your face for any injuries, “Where did he hit you?”

“Steve, I’m fine, really.” You pushed his hands away.

“No, he hurt you, let me make sure you’re okay.”

“Steve!” you stood up, “I’m fine. Let’s just go up.”

You started up the stairs, but he got in front of you and blocked you from going up any further, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“What the hell’s wrong with me? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Steve deflated, sitting down on the steps. “Great, so now you’re mad at me too?”

“Why would you bring up Eddie? Do you not get that Dustin is grieving? He lost someone important to him, and everyone just expects him to be able to move on, and pretending everything’s okay? Do you seriously not understand that?” you tried to stop yourself, but once you got the ball rolling it was like word vomit, “Oh, no, of course you don’t, because you don’t understand anyone’s emotions, even when someone makes them crystal freaking clear, unless it’s Nancy, then you understand everything, like you have a fucking PhD in Nance-ology.”

Steve’s brows pinched together in confusion, “What does Nance have to do with this?”

“Oh my god! She has to do with everything! Do you think we don’t see this stupid, macho, he-man competition you’ve been in with Jonathan? You have been so busy chasing after what could have been with Nancy, that you have become blind to the person who has been pining for you for two years!”

In the silence that followed your outburst, you wanted to fade away, faze into the floor or just be swallowed by it. You never meant to tell him, and even if you had one day been brave enough to, you never wanted to tell him like that.

The sting of tears filled your eyes, and you looked down to avoid Steve’s gaze.

“Um,” Steve cleared his throat, “you and I both know Robin hasn’t been pining for me.”

You couldn’t help the pathetic laugh that bubbled up from your chest; you should’ve known he wouldn’t get it. With a deep, calming breath, you plucked up your courage, “I wasn’t talking about Robin, dingus.” You sat down on the steps next to him.

You watched as Steve’s face contorted into expressions you had never seen before as he tried to work this out in his head, “Well, then who?”

“Steve, how long have we been friends?” You said, offering him assistance.

“Two yea—” he cut himself off, “oh!”

“Yeah.” you nodded, “And I feel so stupid being so jealous about Nancy, but I can’t help it. You’re in love her, and I’m nothing like her.” You buried your head in your hands and waited for the rejection, one way or another, you knew it was coming. You just wished Steve would be kind and not laugh in your face.

“I’m not in love with Nancy.”

“What?”

Steve took hold of your hand and pulled it away from your face, “I may have been, but I’m not anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

He chuckled, “Listen, when Nancy and I were together, I did love her, and I’ll admit, for a while, I wasn’t sure if I would ever get over her. But then this one crazy summer, I got a job with two of the coolest people who ended up becoming my best friends,” he squeezed your hand in his, “And as we grew closer, one of those friends, I realized, was the funniest, most kind-hearted, and caring people I’ve ever met, and before I even really realized it, I fell for her, hard.”

“Steve…”

“I’m sorry for being…what’s the word Robin’s used before?”

“Obtuse?”

He snapped his fingers, “That’s the one, thank you. I’m sorry for being obtuse and not realizing how you felt.”

You squeezed his hand, “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

“Well then, I’m sorry for not telling you how I felt sooner.”

You watched Steve’s eyes glance down to your lips and butterflies filled your stomach. He began to lean in and you felt yourself lean in as well. Just before his lips could brush yours, you pulled back.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked, his voice just above a whisper.

You sighed, a single tear rolling down your cheek, “I just…I wish I could be more like Nancy.”

“Hey,” Steve wiped the tear away and gently cradled your face, “You don’t need to be like Nancy. You just need to be you. And I think you is pretty great.”

A quiet laugh fell from your lips, “I don’t think that was grammatically correct.”

“Oh, shut up.” Steve moved his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you forward, placing your lips on his. You instantly wrapped your arms around his neck and allowed yourself to get completely lost in the kiss. When Steve started to pull away, you pulled him right back in, both of you smiling as you continued.

When you finally separated, both breathless, Steve placed a quick kiss to your cheek, then leaned his forehead against yours.

“I think you need to apologize to Dustin.”

With a slightly annoyed huff, Steve leaned back, moving his hand into yours, “Are we seriously talking about Henderson right now?”

“Steve, he’s hurting. Be the bigger man. Plus, I know you are incapable of staying mad at him.”

He sighed heavily, “You’re right. But I think I need a few minutes, the little jerk packs quite the punch.”

You examined the red mark on his cheek before placing a gentle kiss to it, “That make it feel better?”

“It’s really no problem. I only had one drink, and I kind of want to go with her.” A heavy blush paints Vickie’s cheeks at her confession, a protective arm wrapped around Robin who could barely keep her eyes open. 

“Go ahead, the spare key is under the mat,” Steve tells her, trying to hide the way his skin crawls at the idea of letting the drunk girl out of his sight. A need to take care of her tugging at his heart. He had half a mind to follow behind them but he also knew Robin would never forgive him if he did. This was her moment. 

“Thank you, I promise we’ll be safe,” she says once more before stalking off, a smiling Robin stumbling beside her. As soon as they’re out of earshot, you let out a huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. 

It’s then Steve realizes that even the two drinks you had did nothing to lighten your hatred towards him. Not that he cared, it would just save him the trouble of you acting bratty on the way home. 

“Are you riding with me, Princess, or hitch hiking?” he sneers, using the nickname to deem you as high maintenance, no interest in what you decide. The only reason he was still offering is he was quite certain Robin would shave his head while he was sleeping if he had left you behind. 

You glare at him for the nickname. “To be honest I don’t have a preference, Harrington. Both are bad choices,” you state, trying to mask the unease you have at being alone with him. Steve Harrington had been the bane of your existence since middle school. From the moment younger you had slipped a love note in his locker and heard him laugh with his friends as you waited around the corner. What a fool you’d been and an asshole he always was. 

“Fine, walk,” he says with a heavy roll of his eyes, turning to the front yard where his BMW resided with a few other abandoned cars from the party you both had just attended. 

“Not that it matters to you but I don’t have any interest in ruining these new shoes, so I’m coming,” you growl, stomping after him with anger and determination. He made your blood boil and the adrenaline that gave you was better than any drug you could’ve had here. It was enough for you to willingly swing open the door and slide inside of the car. 

“Pretty princess and her poor shoes,” Steve mumbles, joining you in the cab of the car and slamming his door shut behind him. 

You smirk as he turns the key over, the engine rumbling to life. “At least you think I’m pretty,” you tease and he fumes, steam practically coming from his ears at your words. Yet he ignores you, shifting the car into drive and leaving the party in both of your wakes. Hopefully the entire situation as well. 

You last only five minutes before you start fumbling with the radio, unable to take the silence and the close proximity of the evil boy beside you. His cologne invades your senses and stray hairs fall onto his forehead, it was annoying and made your skin crawl. You don’t miss the way he scowls every time you switch it from a song he likes. Finally, you land on a station that plays a staticky version of Waterloo by ABBA, and you’re immediately humming along. 

“God, you have shit taste in music,” Steve mutters, and you roll your eyes. Not the least bit surprised he couldn’t recognize the fun and whimsy of ABBA and instead probably lived by synth rock, Tears for Fear and Starship, all bands who wouldn’t exist without the ones from the 70s, including ABBA. It only made you even more annoyed with him. 

“Damn, I guess I’ll never be good enough for you Harrington,” it’s a low blow, you know it, but he deserved it. You loathed him for all the right reasons, he was smug and cruel, but he loathed you for everything else. The very being of who you were and things you couldn’t change, and that made all the difference. 

“I don’t recall ever saying that, Princess,” he says, fingers gripping tightly over the steering wheel as he sped down the dark street. Determined to get as far away from this night and you as possible. 

“Oh please. It’s always something about me having bad taste in music. I’m too loud. Not good looking enough to date,” the last one slips out as you mock him, words uttered from so long ago, heavy laughs bellowing through the halls and shattering your heart even more. A bitter taste settles on your tongue and you accept that your anger has revealed more of your feelings than originally planned. 

Silence fills the car, a realization settling over Steve as the last few years play behind his eyes. He had despised you for making assumptions about him, always seeing the worst, and never giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now he knew there was reason, something tangible enough to fuel this fire towards him for so long. You had overheard him and his friends all those years ago and suddenly some of your resentment had become reasonable. Yet a new spark of anger hits him, annoyed at you for not being honest with him from the start, and instead assuming it had been him who said those vicious words all those years ago. Now it made sense why you hated him so much when he had become friends with Robin. No matter what he did, or your shared best friend said, you still wouldn't give him an inch. Instead you had been making his life hell for so long instead of just asking him for the truth. 

“And this is supposed to make me pity you? You are always calling me an asshole, assuming I don’t care about anyone, pestering me by asking when was the last time I did something nice for someone? God it drives me nuts!” he gasps out, mocking you right back, and his dismissal of your words reignites the deep hatred for him in a whole new way. You knew some of your claims had been unjust, that he did in fact care deeply for many people, and had just been nice enough to still drive you home. It still didn’t change the fact that he thought he was better than you when you pined after him all those years ago. 

“Yeah well someone ought to put you in your place,” you huff, watching as he slams the gear shift into park, now across the street from your house. All the lights are off inside, your parents probably expecting you to stay the night with Robin. 

“Yeah well, someone should put you in yours,” he exclaims as he turns to face you, no longer half focusing on the road. He cuts the engine, either to not wake your neighbors or yell at you more, you’re not sure. Yet when the headlights go out and you’re both left in the dark, something electric fills the vehicle. 

“Oh yeah? And how exactly would someone do that?” you ask viscously, body instinctively leaning closer with a need to hurt him or maybe something else. 

Steve isn’t sure what comes over him, whether it was the adrenaline from the current fight, or the single beer he had at the party, whatever it was he finds that his distaste for you borderlines with something heavier. A desperate need tugging at him and as he studies your face, eyebrows high and angry, he finds himself grabbing the back of your head and smashing his mouth against yours.

You don’t react, a bit shocked but a little fuzzy from the blood pumping in your veins and Steve Harrington’s lips against yours. You hate that he tastes like mint and cigarette smoke, a dizzying combination, and you also hate that it makes you melt into his embrace. Your anger matches his own, bleeding into something else that brings you to grip the collar of his shirt. When it’s clear you’re both participating in this shocking turn of events, Steve dares to dart his tongue into your mouth, tasting and memorizing the feeling of you against him. He’s on autopilot, embracing the heat of your anger, and lust stirring something deep in him that yearns for more of you. 

“This doesn’t change anything, by the way,” you say when his mouth finds your neck, sucking and scraping teeth against skin as your perfume invades his senses. His hands light your skin on fire, and when one of his palms cups your breast, it’s shocking how wet you get for him. 

“Trust me, I still can’t stand you,” he mutters against your skin but his hands roaming every inch of you says otherwise. Knowing you’re both on the same page, you surprise even yourself by tugging your shirt off your form, detaching Steve from your neck for only a moment before his lips find his way trailing down your skin and to the tops of your breasts. 

“Sure seems like it,” you say in a heavy breath, fingers tangling in his hair when he pulls one of the cups of your bra down and runs a tongue over your hardened nipple. He growls against your flesh, fingers brushing softly over your stomach as his hand travels down and under your skirt. He doesn’t regard the material of your panties, merely tugging it to the side when a calloused finger drags through your wet folds. 

“Same goes for you,” he smirks, now aware of how turned on you were for him. Quickly he teases your clit and enjoys the feeling of you soaking his fingers. You want to give a snarky comeback but it feels too good, the arousal coming from the deep hatred the both of you shared. There was something hotter about the fact it was Steve of all people making you feel like this. Both of you too worked up to care if it was the other filling that need. 

Instead of yelling at him some more you tug him close and put your lips back on his. He accepts the kiss the same time his free hand circles around your back and finds the clasp of your bra. It annoys you even more that he’s able to undo it with just one hand, the straps falling down your shoulders and leaving your upper half completely bare. You couldn’t be anymore thankful for the fact your parents were asleep right now. He stops kissing you only to suck a nipple into his mouth the same time he plunges a finger deep into you. You can’t suppress the loud moan that falls from your lips at the combined sensation. He grins against your skin and moves to tease and suck your other nipple, finger pumping in and out of you as you drip against his hand. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he mumbles against your chest, leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake that you knew would fuel your anger even more in the morning. 

Wanting to feel like you have some sort of control you reach for his pants, hand traveling blindly until you feel his hard length taut against his zipper. You grip him over the fabric, feeling his body shutter against yours despite the pesky center console in both of your ways. Almost as if he was arguing physically, he adds a second finger, feeling you clamp down on his hand the same time you begin to drag down his zipper. With much effort you finally have him freed from his pants, heavy length squeezed tightly in your palm, thumb rubbing the beads of precum softly against his tip. His cock twitches from the touch, giving way how good it is for him too, and for just a moment instead of hating each other, you both jerk each other off. 

“Fuck it, take those panties off,” he demands, hand slipping out from under your skirt. You want to disobey, glare at him for trying to boss you around, but then you watch him suck his fingers clean and without a single thought you lift your hips and slide the fabric out from under your skirt. At the same time Steve slides his seat as far back as it can go before discarding his shirt and tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees. 

“Come here,” he says once your panties are abandoned on the floor along with the wedges you previously didn’t want to destroy on the walk home. You move quickly, hands finding his shoulders as your leg swings over his lap and center console. You clench around nothing when his hardened length brushes against your heat now sat over him. You grind softly against him, watching as his eyes close before grabbing the handle on the side of the seat and watch as it lays him almost all the way down. 

“I’m in charge now,” you tell him, feeling his fingers tighten around your hips as you reach between you both to grab him again. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as you drag his tip through your folds, using your wetness to make it easier to take all of him. He was bigger than any guy you’d had before but you’d never tell him that. Instead you press him against your entrance and slowly sink down until he’s all the way inside. You don’t move at first, hands steadying yourself on his hairy chest that only makes you even more wet. It was a curse that he was this attractive for an asshole. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks after you don’t move for a long time and you roll your eyes before lifting and sinking back down. His head falls back against the seat when you do and the reaction causes you to find a pace, moving up and down and gasping every time he hits the right spot. Pretty soon it’s no longer about pleasuring him but finding that angle that feels just right. When you start grinding back and forth with him inside you, whining as the coil inside you begins to tighten. Steve sees his opportunity, reaching to rub circles onto your clit so you’ll cum before he does. He didn’t need the extra embarrassment of finishing too soon, especially with you of all people.

“I’m close,” you tell him, panting out your words as his hips start to lift and meet your own. You’ve left scratch marks down his chest, dangling your tits in his face. When finally you meet each other in one hard thrust that has you crumbling on top of him, cumming fast and hard as you shudder against his body. The suddenness has him finishing right behind you, hips bouncing your almost limp body above him, and adding to the sensation of both of your orgasms. 

Finally silence settles in the car, something other than indifference and desire filling the air. You lay against his chest, neither of you speaking or looking at the other even though he was still inside you. It was intimate and scary, both of you showing more to the other than you ever have before. The shield of hatred is drawn away for just a moment and you can still barely feel the heartache younger you still carried for the boy. A puppy love that might never go away. 

“I better get going,” you grumble when it becomes too much, sitting up and reaching for your shirt while still straddling his lap. You avoid eye contact at all costs, pulling the shirt over your head and pretending you weren’t still pressed against Steve Harrington of all people. 

He watches with furrowed brows as you reach over and collect your shoes and bra, avoiding the confrontation of what you both just did before popping his car door open and slipping out. Finally your head lifts, eyes meeting his own that look different for the first time you have ever known him. Your anger is still there but for a moment it temporarily settles in your stomach and doesn’t jump to be let out. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him and he nods, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his pants and boxers back up his still half hard length. A fear constricting him at the prospect he may never feel this good with someone ever again. 

“Anytime,” he jokes, still remembering how an hour ago he was prepared to leave you behind and instead a weird and different kind of fondness intermingled with his annoyance towards you. It’s then he remembers your words from before. 

“It was Tommy by the way. He was the one who found that note and said you weren’t good looking enough. If I had found it I would have checked yes. I still would,” the confession feels like a bomb dropped, shocking you to your very core and you can still picture the lined paper now. 

Do you like me? ▢ yes ▢ no

And your nervous signature signed sweetly beneath with a crooked heart next to it. Steve still had it, stuffed in a drawer at home, but he would probably never tell you. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” you say, using his actual name for the first time all night and Steve nods, lips pressed together tightly. Slowly you walk away on shaky legs, leaving behind your panties as a reminder of the one time you both seemed to be on the same page. When Steve sees you disappear inside the house he lets out a heavy sigh and restarts his car, wishing he could go back in time and change how things happened between you two. 

November 1984

You knew something was up the minute you pulled into the driveway, parking directly behind the BMW. As usual, his parents' cars were nowhere to be seen, but you'd honestly be more concerned if you did see them in the driveway.

As you got out of your car, you studied the house. The lights were off, most of the curtains drawn, the gate leading into the backyard still closed. You glanced at your watch, half-convinced you'd gotten the time wrong, but no—it was nearly 7 p.m. on a Friday night, and Steve was alone in his house.

For a moment, something like hope filled your chest. Then you remembered what happened Halloween night, two days ago, and you realized it was probably a lot worse.

'It,' of course, was how you and Steve danced around the subject of his substance use: the smoking and the drinking that had started early for him and had only gotten worse over the past few years.

The problem with being best friends with Steve Harrington for so long was that you'd watched him become his worst self and felt powerless to stop it. Carol and Tommy always made it worse, and Steve had always been...susceptible to peer pressure, no matter how much you begged and pleaded with him to just be careful.

Nancy's influence had been a good one—you hadn't seen Steve smoke since she complained about tasting it when he kissed her and he'd cut down on his drinking. You had even silently cheered with her at parties when Steve began turning down drinks. But after their rather pitiful fight in the bathroom that you'd had the misfortune to overhear and the conversation they'd had the following day, your hope that this behavior would continue was practically nonexistent.

You took a deep breath as you headed for the door, admonishing yourself silently. You're here to help him through this so he doesn't do all that again, not yell at him and make it worse. He needs someone in his corner right now.

The front door was unlocked, as you had expected it to be. You stepped inside and looked around. The house was empty and strangely clean, as if Steve had done a very early spring cleaning to distract himself.

But even though the house looked like it hadn't seen a party in weeks, it smelled like one had been raging for several days. Sighing, you climbed up the stairs and headed for Steve's room. It was empty, but the sight still made you mutter, "Oh, Steve..."

His bed was unmade and there was an empty bottle of vodka on his nightstand. Next to it was an abandoned rocks glass of half-drunk whiskey, a semi-melted ice cube in it. "Mixing liquors again, are we?" you sighed, picking it up and taking it into the bathroom. You dumped the liquor down the sink.

Back in his room, the ashtray you thought he'd thrown out was back on his dresser, clearly used, a cigarette butt in it. A pack of cigarettes—mercifully mostly full—was beside it.

You picked up the empty bottle of Absolut and carried it and the rocks glass back into the kitchen. You tossed the bottle and washed the glass out. You put it back in the cupboard, grabbed two water bottles from the fridge, and headed out to the pool.

As you had expected, Steve was outside. He had rolled his jeans up to his knees and sat on the edge of the pool with his legs in the water. There was a beer can beside him. The air was thick with the smell of a cigar, the embers of it glowing between his fingers. He lowered it from his mouth and exhaled heavily. His hair was disorganized and falling into his eyes.

"Hey," you said heavily as you approached, sitting down cross-legged beside him. You handed him the water. Steve took it wordlessly and slumped his head onto your shoulder. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," Steve mumbled.

"It might help," you insisted.

Steve scoffed. "What's there to talk about? You were outside the bathroom when I left, you know what Nance said. She doesn't—" He cut himself off, his lower lip trembling. He lifted the beer to his lips.

You covered it with your hand. "Drink the water, Steve," you admonished gently. "It'll help more than the alcohol."

Steve, who had heard this from you multiple times before, rolled his eyes and muttered a half-hearted, harmless, "Fuck off."

The pair of you fell into silence with Steve's head rested on your shoulder. You gently plucked the cigar from his hand and wrapped your arm around him, resting your head against his. He made a soft sound of thanks and you repeated your mantra to yourself as butterflies came to life in your belly: Friends first.

Those two words had gotten you through the past few years of Steve's promiscuity, especially his relationship with Nancy. It meant shoving your own feelings for your best friend since childhood to the side in favor of his friendship and supporting him, no matter how painful it was—as it had been with Nancy, when you were almost certain you were going to lose him to her forever.

So as supportive as you were trying to be, some small part of you was a little relieved their relationship had gone belly up.

You were pulled from your slightly guilty thoughts by Steve whispering into your sleeve, "I miss her."

More guilt curled through your stomach. "I know, I'm sorry," you murmured. "I miss her, too."

"Is it already weird? Without her?" he asked.

You shrugged. "A little. I'm more worried about you, though."

Steve lifted his head, a frown on his face. "She was so worried about Barb and lying to her parents. She had...something weird going on and I'm worried—"

"Doesn't she always have something weird going on, Steve?" you asked, a little more sharply than you would have liked.

"I mean I guess so, but—" He looked up at you. "Are you...upset with me about something?"

"What? No!" Liar. You were terribly upset about all the alcohol he'd consumed, his intoxication in his eyes and how unfeeling he was to the cold water his legs were in and the looseness of his body. But now wasn't the time to chide him.

"Sorry, sorry, it's just...you look mad."

You sighed heavily, pulling Steve into a hug he more than happily fell into. "I'm not mad at you," you promised, keeping your voice soft. "But you're upset, which means I'm upset too, that's just how this works, Steve."

He held you tighter. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered, a phrase you had never heard Steve utter except when he was plastered.

"I'll always be here," you said softly, despite it all, and you held each other until Steve started to shiver. "Hey, why don't you get out of the water?"

Wordlessly, Steve untangled himself from you and got out of the pool. He sighed heavily and drank the rest of his beer. You took the empty can from him when he was finished and the two of you made your way back into the house, much warmer than outside.

"Weren't you supposed to winterize the pool already?" you asked as you shut the door to the patio behind you.

Steve shrugged. "I forgot to do it earlier this month, then thought it might be nice for Halloween if I had a party, but then everyone was going to Tina's party, so...no point in having my own, y'know?"

You nodded, accepting his explanation. "We'll close it soon, okay?"

He nodded. "It... It made Nancy mad that I left it open. B'cause of Barb," he said, his words slowing down and slurring. He'd built up a high tolerance, but the alcohol was finally kicking in. He looked disgruntled for a moment, then said, "Did she expect me to cement it in or something?"

"I doubt it," you told him. "I think that is just the alcohol talking."

He made a face. "You don't like me drinking, do you?"

"No, I don't, and you already know that," you said, rolling your eyes. "We'll talk about it when you're not hammered. For now, why don't you drink some more water and then get to bed?"

"Okay," he said, surprisingly agreeable. You'd been expecting a bit of an argument.

You helped Steve walk up the stairs, stopping every so often as he got woozy, with an arm looped under his own arms. He stumbled toward his room and stopped at his bedside, staring at his nightstand like he knew there should be alcohol there but couldn't quite figure out why it wasn't.

After a moment, Steve just shrugged and unbuttoned his jeans without warning. He unzipped them and stripped them off; you turned away to give him privacy while also watching him out of the corner of your eye to make sure he didn't fall over.

As if that's your only reason, you scolded yourself, your belly flipping as Steve pulled his shirt over his head. He crawled into bed in his boxers.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked over him. "You gonna be okay if I leave you?"

"Don't leave," he pleaded. "I—I don't wanna be alone."

You looked at Steve for a long moment, then sighed. He looked so small beneath the covers, alone in a way he hadn't been since the first time his parents left him by himself for a business trip. You'd been kids then.

"Alright," you relented. "Shove over."

Steve wiggled to one side of his bed while you pulled off your sweater and your jeans. You stole a pair of his sweatpants and crawled into bed in them and your tank top after shutting off the lights.

"Thank you," Steve whispered, shutting his eyes and exhaling slowly.

You hummed quietly. You didn't protest as Steve reached over and took your hand, keeping it between your bodies like you had done when you'd been much younger and Steve had terrible nightmares.

Into the dark, some time later, you said, "It's gonna be alright, Steve. We'll figure it all out. Your life isn't over because of a breakup, okay?" Silence. "Steve?"

You scooted closer and listened to his breathing; he was dead asleep.

"Good night, Steve," you sighed.

~❊~

The next morning you woke in an empty bed to the noise of Steve's dresser drawers opening and closing. You sat up in bed and stared blearily at him.

"What're you doing?" you asked groggily.

"Where can I buy nice flowers?" he asked without looking for you, still digging through his clothes. It took you a moment to realize he was just standing in a blue shirt and his boxers, apparently looking for a specific pair of jeans. The shirt did absolutely nothing to cover his ass and you found yourself staring for a moment, an action you'd done so often throughout your friendship that Steve no longer noticed or teased you about it.

"Good morning to you too," you grumbled, rolling out of his bed and wiping sleep from your eyes.

"Morning," he said distractedly. "What kind of flowers should I buy?"

"Steve, what are you going on about?" you asked, frowning. "Flowers?"

He finally turned around to you, jeans in hand. His eyes were much brighter than you had been expecting for a guy who had to have woken up with a massive hangover. "I'm gonna fix it. I'm gonna apologize to Nancy for the fight and make it up to her and I'm gonna give her flowers."

You stared at him. "Steve, what are you apologizing for? She's the one who couldn't tell you she loves you!"

He winced but ignored your remark. "Uh...for being a dick?"

You sighed. "Look, you can be a dick and you definitely have been, but I don't think you were the dick in this scenario."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, Nancy seems to think I was, so I'm gonna fix this."

You pulled a face. "Why are you apologizing for doing what you were told, Steve? She can try to tell Barb's parents what really happened all she'd like, but we were told to keep our mouths shut."

"Yeah, but you know Nance," he said quietly. "She...feels like it's her fault."

You recognized the look on his face and you felt something in your chest crack. "Oh, Steve... She's blamed you for it, too, hasn't she?"

Refusing to make eye contact with you, Steve pulled on his jeans. "If she hadn't stayed with me that night, she would have left with Barb, and maybe she'd be alive right now."

"Or maybe they'd both be dead," you snapped. You sighed as he flinched. "Look, I'm sorry, it's just— There's no use thinking about what we could have done differently. Sure, a lot of what happened that night was a mistake, but we can't change that. Even though we want to. Look at me, Steve."

His gaze remained trained on the floor as he busied himself with putting his socks on, balancing awkwardly on one foot.

"Please," you insisted, shoving the covers back and nudging him with your foot.

Steve finally looked around to you. His eyes were watery and now you could see the signs of a hangover on his face. Every word you had prepared to say died in your throat at the sight of him and you sighed heavily.

"If you want to try to make up with Nancy, be my guest. Just...don't feel guilty about listening to the officials."

Steve shrugged. "Maybe she's right. Maybe we're wrong to listen to them and let them get away with it."

You smiled ruefully. "Yeah, well... Nancy's right more often than not."

He looked at you for a long moment and you wondered if you'd said it wrong, somehow. Was your tone too bitter? Could he tell that some small part of you resented that he listened to her when he had once listened to you?

But after a moment, Steve just said, "Can you help me choose some flowers?"

You sighed. "Sure. Let me get my clothes on."

Steve made a face. "You want to put your dirty clothes back on?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure you don't have any more of my clothes here."

He checked his dresser quickly, then shook his head. He threw one of his sweatshirts at you instead. "Here, put that on."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Sweatpants and a sweatshirt? In public? Really?"

He shrugged. "What? You look cute. Guys'll love that."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head. "They're your clothes, Steve."

He understood the implication you didn't have to spell out. He rolled his eyes and held his hand out. "Give it back, then."

You drew away from him. "No."

Steve sighed as you pulled your shoes on. "You confuse me."

"That's my goal," you said with a faux sweet smile. You stood up and headed for the door. "C'mon. We'll have the best luck at that floral shop on Main Street."

Steve grabbed his keys off of his nightstand. "Next to the record store?"

"Mhm. Grab your coat—it might rain later." You started out the door, heading for the stairs.

Sighing, Steve pulled on his gray jacket, hesitated for a moment, and then grabbed a flask from a drawer in his nightstand. He filled it quickly with a bottle of whiskey you'd miraculously missed in your cleansing of his room last night.

"Steve!" you shouted from downstairs. "What's taking so long?"

"Coming!" Steve called back. He capped the bottle, shoved the flask into his jacket pocket, and followed you out of his house.

~❊~

Hours later, you found yourself waiting in the back of Steve's BMW, watching him walk down toward the Wheeler's house, carrying red roses. The two of you had spent far too much time talking to the florist about arranging a bouquet with floral meanings before Steve had decided to go simple and to the point.

You knew he was mumbling different variations of his practiced apology to Nancy as he walked, vaguely hearing him mumble to himself through the cracked passenger side window. You were pleased to hear him mutter, "What the hell am I sorry for?" Clearly, he was getting the message you were trying to tell him: he had no reason to apologize for being upset that Nancy was lying about being in love with him. (Although you did think he ought to apologize to her for a good many other things.)

"Steve!"

You glanced out the window to find a young boy—you'd seen him before, hadn't you? It took you a moment to realize it was one of Mike's friends, glimpsed in brief when you hung out with Nancy. Which one was this?

Perplexed, Steve stopped.

"Are those for Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler?" the boy asked. (Curly hair... Baseball cap... You fought to remember his name. Nancy had told you all of the boys' names, right?)

Steve glanced down at his roses. "No."

"Good!" The boy grabbed them, walking toward the BMW.

"Hey! What the hell!" Steve snapped, picking up a fallen rose petal flower.

"Nancy isn't home," the boy said without stopping.

Steve frowned. "Where is she?"

"Doesn't matter," the kid said, though you could see the gears in Steve's head turning. You sat up straighter in the backseat as the kid opened the passenger door. "We have bigger problems than your love life. You still have that bat?"

"Bat? What bat?"

"The one with the nails," he said, and his exasperation made you remember.

"Dustin!" you said aloud, snapping your fingers. He glanced back at you and waved.

"Why?" Steve asked.

"I'll explain it on the way," Dustin said, climbing into the car. He glanced back at you. "Why are you back there?"

You shrugged. "Easier to chide him when I can make eye contact through the rearview mirror."

"Now?" Steve asked.

"Now!" Dustin called.

"What's going on?" you asked.

Dustin swiveled to stare at you again. "I...can't tell you. You weren't involved last year, so—"

"She knows," Steve said, climbing into the car.

Dustin spluttered. "You told her?!"

"She's my best friend, of course I told her," Steve snapped, raising his voice over Dustin's incredulous yipping—something about the government and federal secrets and bad men with anger issues.

You cleared your throat. "Kinda hard to keep a secret when he comes back all bruised and bloody and refuses to go to the hospital. And I'm really good at annoying him."

"You refused to go to the hospital?"

"Mhm," you said, loud enough to be heard over Steve's groan as he pulled away from the Wheeler's driveway. You mimicked Steve's voice as you said, "It's fine, I've got a bottle of bourbon I've been meaning to use! Special occasion! And then he passed out."

"Shut up!" Steve whisper-hissed at you, glaring at you through the mirror.

You rolled your eyes and huffed, sitting back in your seat.

"That was a terrible idea, Steve!" Dustin chided.

"Stubborn, isn't he?" you said.

"What did I say?" Steve asked, putting on that scolding tone. You raised your eyebrows and he quickly dropped it.

"Whatever, doesn't matter right now," Dustin said. "We need to find my pet demodog."

You frowned. "Your pet what?" you and Steve asked at the same time.

Sighing, Dustin launched into an overly detailed explanation that had you forcing yourself to remember your eighth grade science classes. Though you struggled to keep up with the terminology as much as Steve did, you managed to follow along enough: something from the Upside Down had found Dustin, and he'd taken it in as a pet for some reason, it had now eaten his cat and gotten loose.

"So we just gotta find this thing?" you asked.

"Yeah," Dustin said.

"Can't be that hard," you reasoned. "What does it eat?"

"Whoa, what?" Steve asked.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, c'mon, it's simple! We buy whatever food it likes and leave it out for it to find. Got any idea where it might be headed, Dusty?"

Dustin grinned at you. "I think it might be trying to go home. And I'm pretty sure Dart eats only meat."

"Great. Steve, pull over at the store, we can get some pre-packaged stuff for...Dart," you said, pausing on the little beast's name. You hadn't asked Dustin what he planned to do when he caught the demodog, but you weren't totally sure he'd thought that far ahead.

Well, you'd cross that bridge when you came to it.

Steve pulled into the grocery store parking lot. "Alright, kid. Go get what you need."

Dustin was up and out of the car before you could tell him to wait for you. You sighed, pushing your door open. "You coming, Steve...?"

You trailed off as you turned back toward him, finding him with his head thrown back, a flask at his lips. Had it been a painting, you would have found it beautiful. But that was just the thing—it wasn't a painting, it wasn't some guy depicted in the throes of his worst nightmare. It was Steve. Your Steve, falling back on the same old bad habits you'd been trying so damn hard to curb stomp out of him.

"Steve." Your voice was flat.

He took another swig before lowering the flask. He offered it to you. "Want some?"

You scoffed. "Seriously? Want some? Are you insane?"

Steve blinked, taken aback by the sudden harshness in your tone. "What—"

"Look, I get it, this is stressful and annoying and not what you had planned for the day. I didn't plan for this either! But can you put the damn drink down?" you snapped. "You're the one driving, for Christ's sake!"

He sighed. "Alright, fine, maybe it's not the smartest idea—"

"Not the smartest?" you echoed. You slammed the car door shut again. "Steve, what the fuck?"

"Oh, come on, what's with you all of a sudden? You never cared before!"

"Yeah, before," you snapped, "when we were friends with deplorable people? Before, when casual drinking was all we did? Before, when it wasn't a damn problem you won't admit to?"

Steve turned around in his seat to glare at you. "A problem? What are you talking about? I've been perfectly fine and I am well aware of how much I'm drinking. It's not a problem, I've got it under control!"

You scoffed. "Sounds exactly like something an alcoholic unwilling to admit it would say, dumbass." It wasn't until the word left your mouth that you realized its tone had changed from the sweet, affectionate name-calling to a hard, angry punctuation.

Steve flinched. "I'm not a fucking alcoholic, I'm not my damn father!"

"I never said you were, but ironic you thought about that, isn't it?" Before you could feel bad, you continued, "Look, I know that all this—" You gestured around you, summing up all of Hawkins and its problems. "—has been a lot to take in recently. I realize Nancy made it worse. I know this is hard for you. But, Jesus, Steve. The vodka and whiskey in your room last night? The beer, the cigs? You're overdoing it, again, and I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do it."

"So stop fucking watching," he snapped. "Leave me to my own devices—" You scowled, recognizing a phrase from the last time you'd snapped at him about his drinking. "—and handle your own shit, huh? I can take care of myself!"

The irony tingled as it sat on your skin. You could remind him that you'd taken care of him last night, could remind him about the dozen or so times before you'd had to take care of him when he couldn't do it himself, so inebriated he didn't know up from down or his shirt from his pants.

But you only shoved the door open and climbed out of the car. You reached back in through the open window. "Gimme the flask, Steve."

He scowled at you. "What are you, my mother?"

Absolutely not. I'm here, and she's not. But you pulled back the nasty retort, waggling your fingers again. "Give it here."

Rolling his eyes, he tossed it to you. You caught it, sniffing it. It was more than half full of bourbon—the expensive bottle his dad kept in the back of the kitchen cabinet, judging by the smell of it. You huffed.

"Thank you," you said, trying to soften your voice. You stared at him where he sulked in his seat, refusing to meet your eyes. "I'm just trying to watch out for you, Steve. You won't do it for yourself, not right now. So forgive me if there's one person that actually cares about you." He glanced over at you, brows knit. You pointed into the store Dustin had disappeared into. "He needs you. The other kids need you. Keep it together for them, if not for me, if not for yourself."

You uncapped the flask and tipped it, pouring the liquor onto the pavement at your feet. Steve opened his mouth, but the sound of protest died on his lips as your gaze snapped back up to him.

"This is my battle, not yours," he said after a moment.

"Oh, yeah?" You chucked the flask back at him. He barely caught it. "Then fight it."

You turned on your heel and stalked into the store after Dustin, waiting until the doors had shut behind you before you swiped a knuckle over your eye.

~❊~

December 1984

Christmas was a family affair in your house—except this year, it was especially busy at your house as family and friends alike flitted through your doors. Steve was spending Christmas with you like he always did when his family wasn't in town for the holiday, and this year, he'd brought the gaggle of kids with him. They slipped from room to room and house to house, some staying for only a few minutes (like Lucas and Will, who were celebrating mostly with their families but had wanted to stop in) and some stayed much longer (like Dustin, who had become attached to Steve, and Max, who preferred your company over her family's).

You were happy to have them all, of course, even if the extra noise was a bit much for your ears and the extra bodies meant less space. There was, however, plenty of food to go around and to send the kids home with, as your mother had cooked more than your family could eat.

You were standing in the kitchen, helping to put away newly washed dishes, when Dustin appeared at your arm, looking worried.

"Have you seen Steve?" he asked. You glanced around, expecting him to see him in the kitchen—it had become quite normal for Steve to help clean up after gatherings like this, but he was nowhere to be found.

You put the plate in your hands away and said to Dustin, "I'll go find him, don't worry."

Dustin nodded. "Thanks. I have to leave soon, and I want to say goodbye before I go."

You ruffled his hair, silently melting inside over his attachment to your best friend. Steve had never said it, but you knew he felt the same way about the kid just from how he looked at him.

You left the kitchen and glanced quickly outside, though you were certain Steve wasn't stupid enough to be out in the cold this late at night, especially not with the thick crust of snow outside. The snow outside the door was undisturbed, so you went up to your bedroom—a place Steve had always known he was welcome in when he needed to be away from his parents.

As you had expected, he was sitting on your bed, looking quite dejected. He had a glass in his hand, empty except for a half-melted block of ice. He looked up when you stopped in the doorway.

"Sorry," he said, lifting the glass. "I know I promised I wouldn't, but..."

"Steve," you said softly, decidedly upset that he'd broken his promise—made shortly after he told you he'd finally talked to Nancy, that she'd finally said to his face she wasn't coming back—but trying not to show it. You crossed to your bed and sat down beside him. "What's wrong?"

He shrugged. "Got to thinking."

"About?"

Steve sighed, leaving his head against your shoulder. "I spent last Christmas with the Wheelers." After a moment, he added, "With Nancy."

It's only been a month, you reminded yourself as an uncomfortable twisting started in your gut—the familiar feeling of jealousy that was becoming stronger every time Steve talked about Nancy. But, as you were reminding yourself, it had only been a month since she had quite literally broken his heart.

"Oh, Steve," you sighed.

"I know, you're probably getting tired of hearing about her," Steve said. "It's just..."

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I'm not tired of it," you assured him. You chose your next words very delicately. "Or you. I'm more concerned about how you're...medicating," you said, gesturing to the empty drink.

"It was my only one of the night," he promised.

"Well, that's something," you said dryly.

Steve looked at you, incredibly guilty. "You're disappointed in me." It wasn't a question.

"A little," you admitted.

"I am, too," he said quietly.

Out of words to comfort him, your heart broken by those three words, you held out both arms. He passed you the glass and gave you a moment to put it on the ground before he accepted your hug, his body slumping against yours.

You held Steve and prayed he could not hear the pounding of your heart. The smell of him enveloped you, clean laundry and aftershave and shampoo, all tinged with the slightest bit of whiskey on his breath. A sense of ease settled over you, bringing with it the desire to stay like this until everyone left.

"Dustin's looking for you. He wants to say goodbye before he leaves," you said quietly.

Steve huffed through his nose and held you tighter. Your heart began to pound in your ears. "The kid can wait a second." He buried his head in your shoulder and you understood what he wouldn't say: You come first.

You rested your head against Steve's. "I know we've fought about all this a thousand times, and I've told you this just as much...but if you ever need anything, anybody to talk to—my door is always open, Steve. I'd rather you come to me than to..."

"My vices," he finished for you. He pulled himself away from you and wiped at his eyes, trying only half-heartedly to hide it from you.

"Yeah," you said softly. "You could call it that, I guess."

The two of you stayed that way until you heard Dustin's foot on the stairs. You sprang apart as if you'd been caught doing something nefarious before he could find you. You shooed Steve out the door and kicked the rocks glass beneath your bed; you'd wash it when your parents weren't around to question if Steve really was doing alright like he'd insisted all of dinner.

"Steve?" Dustin called.

"Coming!" Steve said, standing. He gave you a half-smile before he walked out the door, pasting on the face he frequently put on for the kids: the always fine, always good-spirited Steve Harrington. Even as he shut the door behind him, you heard him say, voice pitched differently, "Hey, kid, you headed out?"

You sighed, flopping back on your bed. You glanced at the glass he'd left, fighting the urge to cry. All the unfinished arguments, the broken silences after you chastised him, the times his shoulders had slumped when he'd seen your disappointment on your face—one by one they flashed through your mind.

Maybe you were being too hard on him. Maybe yelling at him wasn't the answer.

But, God, you didn't know what was.

~❊~

February 1985

Steve couldn't recall the last time he'd spent a Valentine's alone. Once he'd gotten to high school, he'd had girls who'd giggle when he walked by on the thirteenth; by the morning of the fourteenth, he was going on a date with one of them.

Yet he'd never spent one with Nancy.

Somehow, it was a surprise to Steve that everything was back to normal Wednesday the thirteenth. There were still girls giggling at him in the hallway, though it wasn't the same group of girls he'd had watching him before. No, they were still ogling Billy as they'd done all year.

Steve found himself avoiding eye contact and feeling sorry for himself, his disappointment sitting heavy in his stomach.

"Hey, you!" Your voice hit his ears before you shoulder-checked him, nearly sending him careening into lockers before he steadied himself. You were surprisingly chipper for this time of day.

"Hi," Steve said. "What's got you all...energetic?"

"Coffee," you answered honestly. "I had an extra cup before I left the house today."

Steve frowned. "Uh...why?" You gave him a deadpan look that had him panicking immediately; he'd forgotten something important, hadn't he? "Well, I just mean—"

You rolled your eyes. "It's my presentation, remember? The one I've been working on since January started?"

"Oh—right, yeah, sorry," Steve said, grimacing. Fuck, had he been drinking the night you'd told him about the project? You'd kill him. But no, he assured himself, he hadn't, or he had to have been every night since to have forgotten so completely. He was just...out of it.

The pair of you walked past another group of girls who were quite obviously eyeing Steve. As he looked awkwardly away from them, they started giggling behind their hands. Steve didn't catch your eye roll.

"Sooo," you began, when the group was out of earshot, "you doing anything tomorrow?"

Steve huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "No," he said forlornly.

"Good!"

"Good?" he repeated, frowning at you.

But you just nodded. "We're going to, as friends, go get milkshakes and fries at that diner on the edge of town, and then we're going to go to that drive-in theater."

Steve's lips twitched. "You've got this all planned out, huh? What were you going to do if I said I had plans for tomorrow?"

You shrugged. "Eh, I don't know. I'd probably take Dustin. He's pretty bummed out about not having a girlfriend still. Especially now with Max and Lucas doing so well."

He sighed. "Yeah, he was telling me about that. Honestly, I don't know why he thinks it's as great as it's cracked up to be."

You rolled your eyes, this time quite obviously. "From you, dumbass. I've watched him use like, six of your tricks to pull girls, all in the last week!"

It was Steve's turn to roll his eyes, even though he knew you were right. "Alright, alright, jeez. Go to your class. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Great," you said. "Pick me up at seven!"

So at six the next evening, Steve was fixing his hair in the mirror before heading out. He felt a little foolish as he realized he'd dressed up for the night as if it really were a date and you were a girl he was trying to impress. The feeling worsened and he felt even his ears get red as he spritzed some cologne over himself. He didn't need to impress you; you were his best friend. You'd seen him in all states possible, so in fact, there was no shot at impressing you from here on out.

Steve walked to his car, checking his wallet to make sure he had enough money for the milkshakes and two movie tickets. You were going out of your way to make him feel less alone on Valentine's Day—after hours of couples kissing in the hallways—so he wasn't going to let you spend a single penny.

He drove to your house and got there early. Your driveway was empty, but the light was on in your bedroom. You appeared at the window as Steve shut the car off and gestured for him to give you a minute.

About twenty minutes later, you flounced out the front door.

Steve's jaw went a little slack at the sight of you. You'd styled your hair differently (and it looked great) and you were wearing a new skirt (which also looked great). As you got in the car, Steve realized you had on a new lip shade (looked amazing, actually) and that you smelled different, more sweet.

Suddenly Steve felt like he hadn't put in enough effort.

"You're early," you said as you pulled the car door shut behind you. "I didn't even have my hair done when you got here."

"You look nice," Steve said, hoping he sounded casual.

You beamed. "Thanks! It's the new skirt my aunt got me for my birthday last year. I haven't had an occasion to wear it yet, so I figured this was a good one for it."

It is. "It looks... You look very pretty." Jesus Christ, all of his best lines, and that was what came out of his mouth when he was talking to his best friend?

You excitedly held out your wrists, oblivious to his fumbling. "Oooo, and smell! I got a new perfume!"

Steve leaned down to sniff. That sugary scent was stronger now. "Whoa," he murmured, sitting back up. He glanced at your face; you were grinning the way you used to when you and Nancy would have what you'd called "girl talk."

"I know, right?" you practically squealed. You put your hands back in your lap. "Okay, okay, I'm ready now."

Steve pulled out of your driveway. You began to fiddle with the radio until you found a station you liked, humming quietly to the song.

"Diner first, then movie?" Steve asked, just to try and dispel the panic rattling around in his skull. Christ, how many times had you done this together? Why was it suddenly...nerve-wracking?

"Mhm," you said, then went back to humming. Apparently, you didn't feel the same buzzing that was wrecking Steve's entire nervous system.

Fifteen minutes later, Steve pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Through the windows, you could see the place was full of couple sipping out of the same milkshake with two separate straws.

Steve glanced at you. "Maybe we should've called ahead."

You giggled, and his heart seemed to leap out of his chest.

He got out of the car and walked to your side. There was a small, knowing smile on your face as he opened your door and offered you his hand.

"Aren't you sweet," you cooed, pinching his hand before you took it. Steve felt his cheeks flush with heat.

There was an empty table by the door that the two of you nabbed. The waitress was barely older than the two of you—perhaps a more recent graduate—who only barely managed to hide her upset as another couple sat in the diner.

"What can I get for you?" she asked.

"We'll take a chocolate and vanilla swirl milkshake, please," Steve said, "and a basket of fries to share."

"Anything else?" she asked.

Steve looked at you. You looked so perfect sitting there in your perfect skirt, all dolled up and pretty. He almost didn't catch it as you shook your head and told the waitress, "That's it, thank you!"

You looked like someone straight out of movie: the pretty girl with all the attention, who deserved every bit of it. The main character in one of those cheesy romcoms his mom had liked to watch when he was kid, though he hardly remembered most of them now.

You were...perfect. His best friend. The girl he'd fought otherworldly monsters for, just to make sure you didn't have to, to keep you safe from the very thing that had hurt so many of his friends.

Fuck, you were...everything.

Shit, Steve thought. I'm doomed.

You clicked your fingers in front of his face. "You alright, Steve? You're staring."

He flushed. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm fine, just... Thanks for making this day not shitty."

"Whaaat? Steve Harrington having a shitty Valentine's Day? Come on," you teased.

He shrugged. "This one would have been, so...thank you."

Sympathy softened your face. You reached over and squeezed his hand. "Hey. Any time."

The food arrived surprisingly quickly, and the two of you devoured it quickly. The fries were crispy and flavorful, heavily seasoned, and you wrinkled your nose but didn't say anything when Steve dipped a few into his milkshake.

You took what remained of your milkshakes to the drive-in theater. Steve flipped up the center console so you could scoot close enough to share a blanket against the slight chill that had permeated the night air. He was embarrassingly giddy about how quickly you pressed yourself into his side—as if you hadn't spent your childhoods doing just this on one of your couches on Friday movie nights.

One of the drive-in's waiters was wandering between cars, offering menus and drink tickets. He stopped at Steve's window. "Anything for you and the lady?"

Steve felt your eyes on him as he glanced at the waiter, eyes lingering briefly on the offer of a glass of wine and a beer. But he shook his head. "We're all set, thank you," he said, holding up his milkshake.

The waiter nodded and moved on, and Steve felt you settle more solidly against him, relieved.

Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "Get comfy," he whispered to you. "This movie's a long one."

"Good," you murmured. "But I might fall asleep."

He laughed. "Go ahead."

He thought you might have been joking, but less than twenty minutes later, you were fast asleep on his shoulder. Steve held you there, warmth in his stomach at the thought that you were so comfortable with him, that you trusted him this much.

Things had been better, really, now that you didn't catch him sneaking drinks at every gathering, now that he hadn't touched a bottle in weeks. And it was only because the thought of disappointing you—again—made his blood run cold.

Had it not been for you, if he was being honest with himself, he probably would have spent the night working his way through his father's collection of expensive bourbons and brandies, until his head ended up in a toilet. Not the most appealing night, he had to admit, but one he was all too familiar with.

One he was quite alright with giving up, if it meant having you nestled into his side like this.

"Fuck," Steve whispered, head falling back against the headrest. He glanced at you. Am I in love with my best friend?

But he was quite certain it was no longer a question.

You'd never go for it, he was certain. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many risks you'd have to take, too many reasons for you to not want to be involved with him any more than you already were. Wasn't he (and his drinking problem), after all, your biggest headache?

But if I remove the headache, if I make it easier for her...would she...?

Steve wasn't sure if he was brave enough to find out, but...would it be so bad to try? To take that first step and see?

He held you tighter, another whiff of that sweet perfume blessing him. Even if you'd never want more with him, at least he had this. At least he had now. And he'd do everything he could to get better. For you.

~❊~

July 1985

Hot, oppressive summers were no stranger to Indiana. What was strange was the idea of your best friend working at an ice cream shop. So of course you had to go see him.

On a day as hot as this, there was a line leading out of the Scoops Ahoy store front and wrapping past two other shops. You'd been standing in line for at least fifteen minutes before you even stepped foot into Scoops.

The shop was cute—themed to the ocean in every way imaginable, from the pinstriped blue and white walls to the porthole mirrors to the little anchors decorating everything.

Steve's voice dragged your attention to the counter, the words he was saying with forced enthusiasm like a shock to your nervous system: "Ahoy, sailor! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain, I'm Steve Harrington."

You peered around the line of people, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

Your eyes widened with the glee of a girl who now that the best blackmail she could have ever hoped for at the sight of him. He'd mentioned a work uniform, but had avoided the question when you'd asked how bad it was. Now you understood why.

Steve was a comically stereotyped sailor, decked out in a blue and white uniform that even included a bright red little neck tie. The worst part of it, though, was undoubtedly the awful white sailor hat that read "AHOY" sitting on his head.

You covered your mouth to stifle your laugh, and that was the exact moment Steve looked down the line and realized you were there. His eyes widened—in horror, you presumed—and the smallest giggle slipped between your fingers.

Less than ten minutes later, you were standing at the front of the line and Steve was ripping the hat off his head, looking miserable.

You were just about to crack a joke about his little sailor speech when he held up one finger. "Don't," he said quickly, softening it with a small, "Please."

Your shoulders shook as you held back a giggle.

He groaned. "Oh, come on. Does absolutely everyone I know have to see me in this thing?"

"It's not bad," you tried to say, your point undermined by the quiver of laughter in your voice.

"Uh huh," he said flatly. "Sure."

"It's cute!"

"It's demeaning," he corrected.

"It's on theme," you suggested.

"Don't you dare side with the company," he said, but you could see that you'd softened him a little.

"I wouldn't dare!"

"Hey, dingus!" A head popped through the now-open window behind Steve. "Hurry it up, there's a line!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it!" he snapped. He glanced back at you, apologetic. "That's Robin. She's...a bit of a handful. But, um, anyway... What can I get you?"

"My usual," you said, and Steve got to work on scooping out your favorite combo from the ice cream shop that was near your house.

He handed the cone to you. "It's on the house, by the way," he said, just as the door swung open and Robin took over at the counter, apparently not satisfied with the pace Steve was going at.

"Steve, you don't have to—"

"Of course I do," he interrupted. "Your my best friend."

His eyes locked on yours and held. Your jaw slackened at the fondness on his face, his eyes as open and as vulnerable as you'd ever seen them. They were clear, too, a sight that you'd been treated to more and more as of late, since he'd cleared the house of alcohol. By throwing out, this time, rather than drinking it.

"Steve," you whispered. "You're staring again."

"I know," he whispered back.

You blushed, not used to him not deflecting. "Take me on a date before you look at me like that," you teased. "You'll give a girl ideas otherwise." The heat of your cheeks increased. Fuck, why did I say that? Why'd I say it like that?

"I would," he said quickly. He blushed, more fiercely than you were. "If, um, if you were really asking, I mean."

Heart hammering in your ribs, you said, "I'm really asking, Steve."

Looking as shocked as you felt, Steve exhaled slowly. "Okay, um... How about tonight, then? At seven?"

You nodded quickly, afraid that if you didn't react fast enough, he'd take it back and you'd have to spend the rest of your life pretending it never happened.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, cheeks now flushed with excitement.

"I, uh—"

"Wait, never mind, don't answer that. I'll think of something fun for us to do," he said.

"Okay," you whispered.

"Okay?" he asked, and you heard the are you that he'd forgotten to actually say.

You nodded. "Okay," you said again. "Really, really okay."

He grinned. "I'll see you tonight. I'll pick you up!"

"Okay!" you said.

You flounced out of the store, feeling lighter than you had in months—years, really—and were already thinking about what you'd wear on the date (did you have anything in your closet Steve hadn't seen yet?) as you drove home.

And yet, the date you were so excited for, would not come for several days. You should have known, of course—this was, after all, Hawkins.

~❊~

Foot tapping nervously, you sat in one of those ridiculously uncomfortable chairs, directly next to Steve's bed. The steady beeping of the machines he was hooked up to kept you from resting, which the doctors had assured you was all he was doing.

Steve had already been asleep in the bed when you'd arrived at his hospital room, following a very disjointed call from Dustin hours afer you'd given up on your date, who'd been hurriedly whispering about substances interacting strangely, Russians, some sort of wildly violent hit Steve had somehow taken, and had then asked, very quietly, "Do you know if he's had a lot to drink lately? It doesn't look like he's reacting to the meds properly."

So now you sat as his side, as you had for the past four hours, and waited while you racked your brain.

Steve hadn't been drinking, you were almost certain. You'd seen him brush off drinks offered by friends, had heard him opt for sodas when out to eat, had watched him drop lemons and limes into sparkling water even though his face twisted at the taste. It was anything but alcohol, as far as you could tell.

And yet...

You took a deep breath and told yourself it would be fine—he would be fine. The monsters and the Russians (had you really heard him correctly?) that Dustin had mentioned would not be Steve's downfall.

Bits and pieces of what had happened at the mall came to you from the others. Nancy sat with you for an hour, talking under her breath about a creature the kids had called the Mindflayer chasing the car Steve had been driving, and Dustin had come in again with a wild story about Steve and Robin getting lost in the vents and beat up and drugged by Russians (surely that had to stand for something, right?) and only when your brain was melted did he pause.

"Oh, and, um. The Mindflayer—y'know, the thing made up of all those people who kept acting strange and disappearing—it killed Max's brother."

You nearly choked. "You mean Billy?" For a moment, all you could remember was Steve's complaints about the guy from the year before.

"Yeah," Dustin said. "So, um, she's not doing too great either."

"Right," you murmured to yourself.

Dustin stood. "I should go check on her," he said. "I'll just be down the hall if anything changes here."

You nodded and watched Dustin leave. Only when the door was firmly shut behind him did you take Steve's hand, squeezing softly. "I'd really appreciate if you'd wake up now," you said quietly. "You're starting to freak me out."

But Steve's eyes remained shut, his breathing even. You watched the screens of the monitors on the opposite wall, relieved that his vitals looked—to your eye, at least—normal.

So you waited.

And waited.

Waited.

Eventually, your eyes began to get heavy. You curled up in the chair as best as you could, your hand still clasped around Steve's, and let your head rest against your own shoulder. You could at least attempt to get some rest while you were here...

You hadn't been in that position very long—though it had been long enough that your neck was starting to cramp and your legs had gone numb—when the blankets next to you rustled.

Steve's grip on your hand changed, tightened as his fingers curled around yours.

"Steve?" you whispered.

He made a soft sound of recognition, head rolling toward you. His lids fluttered for a moment before cracking open, barely a sliver. But it was enough for him to see you, his lips twitching into a half-smile.

Given how bruised he was, you wouldn't be surprised if that was all he could manage.

"Hey," he croaked.

You couldn't help but smile, your body faint with relief. "Hey, how're you feeling?"

Steve paused, taking quick stock of himself. "Pretty bad," he said at last. He sighed. "How long have I...?"

"Two hours," you said. "Well, you've been here for two hours, I don't know...much about before then."

He looked at you for a long moment, apprehensive, like he was trying to gauge how mad you were. "I meant to tell you about all this sooner," he said in a rush. "It's just— Well, there was so much going on and then we were told to keep quiet and then it felt cruel to drag you into all of this when it had mostly left you alone—"

"Steve," you interrupted. "I'm not mad about that. It's okay. Actually, I'm not really mad at all, I'm just a little...freaked out. Dustin keeps rambling about you saving the day but also getting beat up? And everyone has a different version of what happened? And then the news—all that's been on the news for the past like three hours is that Starcourt's decimated and on fire—they still haven't contained that, by the way—and they've given no official reason yet but Dustin says there's a, what did he call it?"

"A Mindflayer," Steve supplied. "Yeah. Big fleshy thing that chased us around town and smashed the roof in. Kept trying to eat us or absorb us or whatever. The kids decided to blow it up with fireworks."

You stared at him for a moment, a stuck breath finally escaping with a quiet sound of disbelief. You shook your head as Steve laughed quietly, shaking his head.

"Russians?" you asked. "That's code for something, right?"

"I wish," Steve snorted. "They drugged me and Robin."

"They drugged you?"

"Mhm, and then they beat us up, in their little underground base," he added, and he sounded loopy enough that you believed him. He lifted one hand to his head, gingerly touching his bruises. "Actually, it wasn't little. It was big and confusing and I got lost like four times. Good thing about it all, though, is that now we're pretty good friends. Me and Robin, I mean."

You leaned forward, resting your forearms on his bed. "Good. You needed a friend other than me and some middle schoolers."

"Hey," he complained, attempting to flick your head. You didn't tell him that it didn't quite land.

In the silence that settled over you, you said softly, "But...you are okay? You will be okay?"

He nodded. "I'm okay," he promised. He reached up and slowly ruffled your hair, smiling. "Pretty sure everything's out of my system but the morphine they gave me." He held up the arm with the IV in it and sighed. "But I guess this means my sober streak's over." He glanced at you, mouth twitching into an awkward line.

You took his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. His pulse kicked up beneath your fingers. "I won't count it if you won't."

"You're not mad?"

"How could I be? You got drugged against your will and beat up, apparently by Russian spies!" You found yourself laughing at the improbability of it all. You laced your fingers with his. "How did you even...?"

He shrugged. "Had to protect the others."

"C'mon, Steve," you sighed. "Do you always gotta be the one to put yourself in danger? Take the reckless chance?" He shrugged, glancing away from your questions. "I... I get it, really. You always put the kids first. I guess it makes sense now, if you've been getting...chased by homicidal creatures from hell itself, from what the others have said, but..." You nuzzled against his hand, mumbling, "I think I'd prefer you drinking and smoking in excess to nearly dying all the time." Steve raised a brow. "I'd rather take back every argument and every jab I made if it would keep you safe."

He shook his head. "Hey, you are keeping me safe," he said. "Just...in the way you know how. And honestly, I'm...glad that you did. I don't think I'd be able to...show up for these guys the way I have if you hadn't." He glanced over at you. "Or you."

"Steve, you were always there when I needed you—"

"It upset you," he said simply. "Even if I was physically there, I wasn't... I wasn't paying attention to you the way I should have. I wasn't showing up for you like I needed to, not always." He shrugged away the protest you didn't get to voice the moment you opened your mouth. "If I had, I would have asked you on a date a lot sooner." His face fell very suddenly. "I'm sorry I bailed—"

You scoffed. "You didn't bail, Steve, you ended up in a hidden basement and got tortured!"

He huffed. "Yeah. Alright." His lips twitched. "Do you still want to?"

Squeezing his hand, you grinned. "Of course I do." You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Once you don't look like you lost a fistfight."

Steve blushed, shaking his head. "They drugged me!"

"I'm only teasing," you murmured. "But honestly—you should get some more rest."

He shook his head. "I'll sleep when I'm home. Can you grab a nurse?"

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "If I'm gonna be an invalid, I'm gonna do it in my own bed." He glanced at you. "And then maybe you could stay and cuddle up next to me?"

You smiled. "Lemme go see if I can find someone to discharge you."

And off you went, Steve grinning behind you and lazy, content butterflies brushing the walls of your stomach.

~❊~

August 1985

Steve had never thought the perfect date would just happen in his car, but sitting here, parked on the side of the lake, he couldn't think of a time he'd on a better date.

Or maybe it was just because he was finally on a date with you.

The radio was playing soft music, the volume low and somehow sensual. From the cracked windows, you could hear the soft sound of water, the lake lapped at its banks. The remnants of your finished meal had been tossed into the backseat: fries and burgers, a milkshake split between you, which still sat in the cupholder in the console.

And your fingers were laced in his across the console.

Your head rested on his shoulder. As he had been doing for the last five minutes, Steve turned his head to softly kiss the crown of your head. This quiet—it was easy with you, when on any other date silence had made Steve fidgety, his date's expectations obvious.

Your only expectation, it seemed, was to enjoy the view together. And to fall asleep on his shoulder.

Steve's arm, wrapped around you, gave you a gentle squeeze on the next kiss. You hummed happily, nuzzling against him. You mumbled his name.

"Mmm?"

"This is nice," you murmured.

Steve hummed. "Yeah," he said. "I...know it's nothing special, but..."

"Doesn't have to be," you said simply. "I'm happy just to hang out with you."

"Does that mean when it gets warmer you'll be happy when I toss you in the pool?"

"Don't you dare, Steve Harrington." He laughed. You looked up at him, eyes sparkling despite the unimpressed look on your face. "I'm serious! I'll take you down with me."

He brushed your hair out of your face. "Can't say I'd really complain about it."

Your eyes seemed to melt, syrupy with your affection, as you leaned into the touch. Steve felt that familiar flutter in his chest, desperate and needy. Shit, you were beautiful like this, staring at him with an adoration he’d once thought he’d only ever dream. He realized as you smiled that he was staring—noticeably so. But you didn’t seem to mind the look into his eyes at all.

Steve brushed his thumb over your cheekbone. “May I…?”

“Please,” you whispered.

He pulled you closer, arm around your neck. His lips met yours—pillowy soft, gentle. He pulled away with a slight laugh. Your hand cupped his cheek, drawing him close to you. Steve kissed you again, unable to stop his grin. “I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured against you, “for so long.”

“Keep going,” you whispered. “Keep kissing me.”

He did. One by one, he pressed gentle kisses to your lips. At last you whimpered, “More, Steve, please.” He wasn’t sure if it was the request or simply the sound of his name on your breathless lips, that did him in, but his restraint snapped. Fumbling a little, he moved the milkshake, flipped up the console, and pulled your body tight against his own. His hands stayed on your waist, massaging you gently as he kissed you, deeper than before.

“Fuck, Steve,” you murmured. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned into your mouth, gripping your hip. “C’mere, pretty girl.”

You melted, letting him move you, happily adjusting to sit in his lap. His arms slipped up your back, cradling you against him. A hand slipped into your hair and you hummed, returning the gesture. Steve smiled.

“Knew you liked my hair,” he mumbled.

“Who doesn’t?” you asked. You pulled back briefly, running your fingers through it. “It looks a lot better now, you know. Then when you were King Steve.”

He huffed. “You should’ve smacked me upside the head for all of that.”

You rolled your eyes. “I tried, if you recall.”

Steve hummed. “Yeah. I’m just a sucky listener, huh?”

You shook your head. “In the past,” you said. “Right now, I’m in your lap.”

“Thank God for that,” Steve said, pulling you in again. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And maybe he had taken a while to get here. But every second was worth it. You tasted better than any alcohol that had every touched his lips.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

-

Eddie was sitting next to Y/N in the back of his van at the Drive-Thru. Neither were really even watching it as they were just talking to each other. He was surprised to find out that she liked a lot of the same things he did.

"Actually, Rocky Horror is gonna be showed a town over in two weeks. I was planning on going, maybe, if you wanted, we could go together." The smile on her face as soft as she asked him.

He returned the smile and nodded, "That would be fun." He leaned back, against the side of his van. "One question. Do you dress up?"

She laughed, "Of course I do! Usually I do Janet as that's all that I really have clothes for. But I recently found a old maids outfit that I'm gonna fix up to look like Magenta. Hopefully it'll be ready in time."

He grabbed a piece of popcorn and popped it into his mouth. "I bet it will be."

He laughed lightly and she smiled at him confused. "What?"

"I just...I don't get this. You're literally so...perfect. I mean. You're so nice, you like the same things as me, and you're hot." She felt her face heat up at the last comment. "You're like a dream come true Y/N Y/L/N."

She smirked, "What? Did you think that I was gonna like a lot of popular stuff?"

"Kinda?"

She laughed, "I do like some of it. There are some chick-flicks that I love. Some music. I just like whatever I like."

He nodded, "What's your opinion on DnD."

"I've never played. But it seems pretty interesting. I don't really understand why people say it's 'satanic'. And that people who play it are 'devil worshippers' and 'evil'. Games don't make being evil. It's what they're surrounded by that do it."

He smiled, "I like your thinking."

For the rest of the film, the two of them continued to just talk about different things that they liked. And Eddie continued to be surprised that the two of them liked the same things as each other.

But the guilt that he just asked her out on a bet grew more and more.

-

The two had gotten together in January and now March was ending and April was starting. Eddie had truly started to fall for Y/N after a week. But he kept feeling guilty that this all started because of a stupid bet he had made with his friends. He had felt like he was using her this whole time. But he knew it wasn't true. Everything he had said and done had been true. And when he told her that he loved her. He had meant it.

But he knew he would have to tell her the truth at some point. Even if he knew that he would hurt the both of them. But he wasn't going to do that until after he talked to Jeff and Gareth and called the bet off.

-

Y/N walked down the hall to the Hellfire room. She had to ask Eddie if she had left her jacket over at his trailer. But she felt her blood run cold when she overheard a conversation that she knew she shouldn't have.

"-You can't do that dude! You calling off the bet means that you have to pay us! I thought that you hated losing!"

"Yeah? Well I didn't plan on actually falling for her! I can't go through with the fucking bet! It'll just hurt her!"

"That's your fault bro. You knew that this could happen, but you went through with it. You asked Y/N out on a bet, knowing that you easily could fall for her."

She hadn't realized that she walked into the room fully until she dropped the books in her arms and the three boys turned to her. Guilt covered Eddie's face when he saw her. And he was barely able to get her name out before she ran out of the room. He cursed under his breath and turned to Gareth and Jeff. "The bet is over. I'll pay you two tomorrow." And then without even giving them a chance to respond, he ran out to find Y/N.

He had a good idea where she would be. He remembered something she had mentioned once about a place in the woods. Different than the place he would meet people for deals. She had shown him it once. And when he made it to there, he felt his heart break. He heard her crying. And it pained him to know that she was crying because of him. Because of what he had done.

As a twig snapped under his foot, her head snapped around. She wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Leave me alone."

"Princess-"

"No. No don't. Don't do that." She stood up, "Don't sit there and say 'princess' and act all innocent. Act-act as if...as if this isn't all a lie!"

He shook his head, "It isn't a lie! I do love you! More than anything!"

She shook her head, "I was nothing more than a fucking bet. You asked me out just so you could...could what? Get money? Prove that you aren't a fucking loser?"

"Y/N I-"

"Was any of it even real?"

"What?"

She walked over to him and poked his chest, "Any of it? Was. It. Even. Real. Did you mean any of it? Or was it all apart of the fucking bet?"

"I meant everything I said and did!"

She let in a shaky breath, "Why me? Why did you choose me to be the fucking victim?" She laughed, "Actually. No wait, let me guess. You asked me because you thought I would be easy. Because you knew I had fucking liked you for years. Am I right?" He stayed silent. She was right. He had originally asked her because he knew that she would say right. She let out a small, dry laugh. "I should have fucking known. It was all too good to be true. I mean, why else would Eddie 'the freak' Munson ask me out? Why else if I wasn't just supposed to be another notch on his belt?" She looked at him, "Well, go find yourself some other girl to fuck with. Because we're fucking done." She pushed past him, but not without saying, "God, I wish I never had been seen with the freak of Hawkins."

And he watched as she walked away and felt him heart tear into a million pieces. He knew he had fucked up. He knew he should have told her the minute he gained feelings. But he didn't and now he had fucked everything up.

Ko Fi: https://ko-fi.com/hoppers_babygirl

@sarahisslytherin​

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Fics, Blurbs, Mood Boards, Playlists    Will Write: Eddie, Steve, Fluff, Banter Won’t Write: Dark!Fic SFW/NSFW: SFW Note: Request refusal at author discretion 

@classickook

Request Type: Drabbles, Blurbs  Will Write: Eddie, Steve, Fluff Won’t Write: Dark, Taboo, Poly, SA, Drug Use, ED, SH, Kidnapping SFW/NSFW: Both

@keeryshouse

Request Type: One Shots, Fics   Will Write: Steve, Fluff, Angst Won’t Write: Sad Endings  SFW/NSFW: Both

@seolaseoul

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Blurbs   Will Write: Steve, Eddie, Fluff, Angst Won’t Write: Smut, Dark, Triggers SFW/NSFW: SFW

@foreverrogers

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Head Canons, Blurbs   Will Write: Steve, Eddie, Fluff, Angst Won’t Write: Dark, Non-Con, Dub-Con, RPF SFW/NSFW: Both

@delicrieux

Request Type: Drabbles Will Write: Angst, Fluff Won’t Write: SA, SH, Age-gap,  SFW/NSFW: Both 

@yellowharrington

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Fics, Blurbs Will Write: Eddie, Steve, Fluff Won’t Write: Cheating, Pregnancy, Kids, CNC, Triggers SFW/NSFW: Both

@ssweetleaf

Request Type: One Shots, Drabbles Will Write: Eddie, Steve, Open to Others, Fluff, Angst Won’t Write: SA, Pregnancy, Underage SFW/NSFW: NSFW Note: x reader content only

@s1ater

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Fics, Mini Series, Head Canons, Blurbs, Mood Boards   Will Write: Eddie, Preference: Steve, Fluff, Angst Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW:Both

@plus-size-reader

Request Type: Fics, Head Canons   Will Write: All Character, Fluff, Angst  Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: SFW mostly, open to NSFW

@wildieflower

Request Type: Any   Will Write: All Characters   Won’t Write: Incest, Taboo SFW/NSFW: SFW

@1986harrington

Request Type: One-Shots, Drabbles   Will Write: Steve x Reader Won’t Write: Pregnancy SFW/NSFW: Both

@givemearock

Request Type: Drabbles, One-Shots, Headcanons   Will Write: The Older Teens, The Party, Hellfire Club, Fluff, Angst, Ships   Won’t Write: NSFW,BSFW, Underage, Taboo, Incest, Illegal Ships   SFW/NSFW: SFW

@stranger-than-fictionn

Request Type: One Shots, Fics, Mini Series, Preferences     Will Write: Fluff, Eddie, Steve, Nancy, Robin, Argyle, Jonathan, Hopper, Joyce?, Billy? Won’t Write: Non Con, Fluid Play, Non Canon Deaths,   SFW/NSFW:Both Note: NSFW Requests 18+ Only

@runawaymunson

Fic Concepts Only

@sharpsapphic666

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Fics, Head Canon Will Write: Eddie, Steve, Robin Won’t Write: Major Angst SFW/NSFW: NSFW Mostly

@perksofbeingpayton

Request Type: Any   Will Write: All Characters, Fluff, Angst   Won’t Write: Underage SFW/NSFW: Both Note: Fluff only for younger characters

@hawkins-losers

Request Type: One-Shots, Blurbs Will Write: Fluff, Angst, Robin, Eddie, Billy, Steve Won’t Write: Pregnancy, SA, Non Con, ED, Feet, Anal  SFW/NSFW: Both Note: Requests are subject to author discretion

@cierrawrites

Request Type: Any   Will Write: All Characters Won’t Write: Fluid Play, Underage, Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both

@thatonegirlwhowrites

Request Type:Drabbles,One Shots,Fics,Mini Series, Head Canon, Blurbs Will Write: Fluff, Angst,Eddie, Nancy, Steve, Robin, El, Max, Lucas, Dustin, Mike Won’t Write: SH, SFW/NSFW:Both Note: SFW Only for younger characters

@wannabeschyulersister

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Mini Series, Blurbs   Will Write: Fluff, Angst, Preference: Eddie,Steve, Acceptable: Nancy,Robin,Jonathan,   Won’t Write: Triggers,   SFW/NSFW: Both

@will-on-the-internet

Request Type: Fic Will Write: Eddie x Steve, Reader x: Eddie, Jon, Steve, Robin, Won’t Write: Feet, Abuse, Taboo SFW/NSFW: SFW

@munsonsmuse

Request Type: Fic, Oneshot, Drabbles, Blurbs, Headcanons   Will Write: Eddie, Steve, Fluff, Angst,Fitx-it, Fem!reader, GN!reader, Steamy Won’t Write: NSFW, Dark!Fic, Taboo SFW/NSFW: SFW Note: Angst will always have happy ending per author's preference

@willbyers-buffbunny

Request Type: Fic, One Shots, Imagines, Headcannons  Will Write: Male!reader, FtM!Reader, Crossdressing, Poly, Non- 80s au, Hybrid au, Won’t Write: Fem!Reader, GN!Reader, Gore, Angst, Non-Con, Age Gap.  SFW/NSFW: SFW 

@familyvideostevie

Request Type:Drabbles, Blurbs, Fic Ideas   Will Write: Steve x Reader, Eddie x reader, Fluff Won’t Write: Pregnancy, Violence, Angst  SFW/NSFW: SFW

@upsidedownwithsteve

Request Type: Drabbles, One-Shots   Will Write: Steve x Reader Won’t Write: AU’s, pregnancy, future fics,Dub-Con, Taboo  SFW/NSFW: Both 

@sinclaiirs

Request Type:One-Shots   Will Write: Mostly Steve, Some Eddie Won’t Write: at author discretion   SFW/NSFW: Both

@hellfirexclub

Request Type: Any  Will Write: pretty much anything  Won’t Write: Non Con, Underage  SFW/NSFW:Both 

@lil-stark

Request Type: All   Will Write: Soft, Rom-Com, Fluff, Steve, Eddie Won’t Write: Violence, Gore, SFW/NSFW:Both 

@creelhousesteve

Request Type: One-Shots, Fic Will Write: Robin, Steve,Dark!Fic Won’t Write: SA, Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both

@magicchai

Request Type: One Shots, Drabbles, Blurbs, Headcanons   Will Write: Fem!Reader, GN!Reader, PlusSize!Reader, Steve, Eddie, Platonic!Robin,  Won’t Write: Smut, Drug Use, Drunk SFW/NSFW: SFW

@hellfireclubmember

Request Type:  Drabbles, One Shots Will Write: Steve, Robin, Eddie, Nancy, Jonathan, Fluff  Won’t Write: SA, Abuse, Slurs, Incest, Taboo  SFW/NSFW:Both Note: Robin x Fem!Reader Only 

@maryam-444

Request Type: Any  Will Write: Fluff Won’t Write:Male!Reader, Non-Con,  SFW/NSFW: Both Note: No more than 4 character per request 

@xtrafluffyteddy

Request Type: Any   Will Write:Steve, Eddie, Steddie   Won’t Write: Non-Con, Graphic Abuse,    SFW/NSFW: Both, SFW preference 

@hellfirewhores

Request Type: One Shots, Fics  Will Write:Steve, Eddie, Robin, Angst, Fluff  Won’t Write: Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both

@guccisweatpants

Request Type: Imagines  Will Write: Steve, Robin, Nancy, Smut, Fluff, Angst Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Both

@constillatedchaos

Request Type: Any  Will Write:  Won’t Write: Stalking, Non-Con, Age Play SFW/NSFW:Both 

@familyvideostevie

Request Type: Drabbles, Blurbs, Fic Ideas  Will Write:Steve x Reader, Eddie x Reader, Fluff, Fem!Reader, GN!Reader,   Won’t Write: Pregnancy, Violence, Angst, Taboo SFW/NSFW: SFW

@wrenniebaby

Request Type: One Shots, Drabbles   Will Write:  Won’t Write: Billy, Chrissy x Eddie SFW/NSFW: Both

@maladaptive-day-dreams

Request Type: Fics, Drabbles, One Shots   Will Write: Eddie, Fluff, Angst, Fluff, Of-Age Characters   Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Note: Request refusal at author discretion  

@eddiemunscum

Request Type: Drabbles  Will Write: Fluff Won’t Write: SA, ED SFW/NSFW: Both

@fanatictypist

Request Type: Drabble, One-Shot   Will Write: Eddie, Argyle, Steve, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, AUs, Fluff, Some Angst Won’t Write: Non Con, Dub Con,  SFW/NSFW: SFW, Smut requests are last priority 

 @steveharringtonarchives

Request Type: Fic Ideas  Will Write: Fluff, Angst Won’t Write: Non Con, ddlg, Pedophilia, Incest, Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both

@fanfics-i-write-in-my-spare-time

Request Type: Drabbles, Fics, One Shots   Will Write: Fluff, Most Adult Characters Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW:Both Note:Check Masterlist for characters 

@taiyothewriter

Request Type: One Shots, Drabbles   Will Write: POC!Reader, Male!Reader Won’t Write: Billy, Dead Dove, Dark!Fic SFW/NSFW: Both

@mytheoristavenue

Request Type: One Shots, 2k - 4k  Will Write: All Character, Fluff, Smut, Angst Won’t Write: Jason, Billy  SFW/NSFW: Both Note: Younger characters are fluff only

@chopper-witch

Request Type: One Shots, Drabbles Will Write: Anything, Fluff, Angst, CNC, Preference: Nancy, Robin, Steve, Eddie, Argyle, Jonathan Won’t Write: Underage, Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both

@staticfangz

Request Type: Blurbs, Drabbles  Will Write: Preference: Eddie  Won’t Write: Underage SFW/NSFW: Both

@nostalgiaenthusiast

Request Type: Any   Will Write: Steve, Eddie, Enzo, Robin, Fluff, Smut Won’t Write: Racism, Underage, Taboo,  SFW/NSFW: Both Note: Will not deviate from confirmed sexuality  

@feverdreqmz

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots   Will Write:  Won’t Write: Dark!Fic SFW/NSFW:SFW 

@jvblood

Request Type: Any   Will Write: Fluff, Angst  Won’t Write: Major Death  SFW/NSFW: Both

@danowie

Request Type:  Drabbles, One Shots Will Write: Anything, Fluff, Smut Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW:Both  Note: Request refusal at author discretion

@wrenniebaby

Request Type: Blurb, Headcannons   Will Write: Preference: Eddie, Fluff, Acceptable: Nancy, Robin,Steve, Jim, Angst, Smut  Won’t Write: Eddissy, Billy, Underage SFW/NSFW: Both

@denim-mixtapes

Request Type: Fics  Will Write: Preference: Eddie, Steve, Acceptable: Robin, Nancy, Hopper Won’t Write: Heavy Angst SFW/NSFW: Both

@turdmongler

Request Type: One Shots, Headcannons,  Will Write: Anything Won’t Write: Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both Note: No Male NSFW content

@mad-elia

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Fics, Blurbs  Will Write: Preference: Eddie, Fluff, Accepted: Robin, Steve, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan   Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: SFW

@pappydaddy

Request Type:Fic   Will Write:  Won’t Write: Smut  SFW/NSFW:SFW 

@eyedrisaol111

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots Will Write: Eddie, Jonathan, Argyle, Fluff Won’t Write: Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both

@ridestomars

Request Type: Headcanons, Blurbs, Moodboards, Playlists   Will Write: Eddie, Steve, Nancy, Fluff Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: SFW

@bxnnywriting

Request Type: All  Will Write: Eddie Munson Won’t Write: Dub-Con SFW/NSFW: Both

@helpwhatsthis

Request Type: All Will Write:  Won’t Write: S.H. or S.A. SFW/NSFW: Both

@hopefulfuturenovelauthor

Request Type: Fic, One Shot, Mini Series, Drabble, Headcanon Will Write: Some Violence, Some Gore, Reader-Insert: Gender-Neutral, Female,Male Won’t Write: Underage, Unwanted, Forced SFW/NSFW: SFW Only

@eddiesmunsonss

Request Type: One-Shots  Will Write: Most Things Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: SFW Only

@0hollowpurple0

Request Type: One-Shots, Drabbles Will Write: Most Things, Male!Reader, Gender-Neutral!Reader Won’t Write: Fem!Reader, Hardcore Kinks SFW/NSFW: Both

@bunnyhoney111

Request Type: All, Fic Preference  Will Write: Female!Reader, Plus-Size!Reader Won’t Write: Male!Reader SFW/NSFW: NSFW Preference

@mvunson

Request Type: All Will Write: Literally Anything Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Both

@eminems-skittles

Request Type: Drabbles/blurbs, One-Shots, Headcanons, etc.  Will Write: Steve, Eddie, Robin, Suggestive, Fluff Prerence,  Won’t Write: characters outside of listed SFW/NSFW: SFW Only 

@petertinglesforbread

Fic Ideas Only  SFW/NSFW: Both No Requests

@sapphireplums

Request Type:  All Will Write: Won’t Write: SFW/NSFW: SFW Only 

@eddiemunsonssoulmate

Request Type:  Fic, 1k-3k word length Will Write: Most Things Won’t Write: Taboo / Weird SFW/NSFW: Both Note: has post FAQ

@where-is-francis

Request Type: All, Headcanon preference  Will Write: specific ideas, Male!reader, GenderNeutral!Reader,Poly Won’t Write: Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both Note: has posted rules list

@aphrogeneias

Request Type:  Drabbles, One-Shots Will Write: Preference: Eddie, Steve, Robin Won’t Write: Dark Fic SFW/NSFW: Both

@theoreticslut

Request Type: Fics, Drabbles, Headcanons, Moodboards Will Write: Eddie,Steve, Nancy, Robin,Jonathan Won’t Write: Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both 

@boldlyvoid

Request Type:  Blurbs, One-Shots and Fics upwards of 10k words Will Write: Eddie Munson x Reader Only Won’t Write: Blowjobs, Piss or Blood play SFW/NSFW:Both

@anangelwhodidntfall

Request Type:Fics, Drabble, and One-shots Will Write: Preference Eddie, Fluff Won’t Write: NSFW SFW/NSFW: SFW

@catonthesideoftheroad

Request Type: All Will Write: Preference:  Eddie, Steve, Nancy, and Robin  Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Both

@thefreakymunson

Request Type: All Will Write: Open Won’t Write: Non-Con, Abuse, Body Fluid SFW/NSFW: Both

@vintageobx

Request Type:  All Will Write: Preference Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy Won’t Write: NSFW, Smut SFW/NSFW: SFW

@midnightreid

Request Type: Fic Will Write: Eddie x Steve, Reader x: Eddie, Jon, Steve, Robin, Won’t Write: Feet, Cheating, Abuse, Taboo SFW/NSFW: NSFW

@will-on-the-internet

Request Type:  Fic Will Write: Steve, Jon, Eddie, Robin Won’t Write: Feet, Cheating, Abuse, Taboo SFW/NSFW: SFW

@greengoblinswifey

Request Type: All Will Write: Open, Stepcest Won’t Write: Incest SFW/NSFW: Both

@prettyboyeddiemunson

Request Type: Fics, Drabbles, One-shots  Will Write: Open Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Both, NSFW 18+

@moonlightsolo

Request Type: All  Will Write: Mildly Suggestive Won’t Write: NSFW, Smut  SFW/NSFW: SFW Note: x Reader Fics only

@thestoryden

Request Type: All  Will Write: Vampires, Fantasy, Bullying, Comfort  Won’t Write: Pregnancy, Cops, Race/Ethnicity Fetish SFW/NSFW: Both 

@toomanyfictionalboyfriends

Request Type: All  Will Write: All-Characters, Canon Violence Only Won’t Write: Incest, Pseudo-Incest, Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both Note: NSFW is 18+ Only, All-must be age appropriate/Aged-up

@inklore

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots  Will Write: Anything Won’t Write: Pregnancy, Sibling!Reader SFW/NSFW: Both

@uselsshuman

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots  Will Write: Gender Neutral!Reader, Female!Reader Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: SFW

@peterthepark

Request Type: Fics, One Shots Will Write:  Won’t Write: Triggering Content, Cheating SFW/NSFW: Both

@riouri

Request Type: All Will Write: Preference: Billy, Eddie, Steve, Sibling!Reader Won’t Write: Self-Harm,Suicide  SFW/NSFW: SFW mostly

@eddiebun

Request Type: All Will Write:  Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Both

@mggswhorificlover

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots Will Write:  Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Both

@heytherejulietx

Request Type: Fics, One Shots, Drabbles, Blurbs  Will Write: Hurt-Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Platonic, Romantic, Familial Platonic Won’t Write: NSFW SFW/NSFW: SFW

@mrvlbimbo

Request Type: All Will Write:  Won’t Write: SA, SH, Sibling!Reader  SFW/NSFW: NSFW mostly

@retrofeverdreams

Request Type: Drabbles, One Shots, Headcannons, Fics  Will Write:Fluff, Smut, Angst, Female!Reader, Gender Neutral!Reader, Preference:Eddie, Steve Won’t Write:  Incest, BDSM SFW/NSFW: Both Note: Requesters must be 18+

@two-red-lungs

Request Type: Fics, Drabbles, One Shots Will Write: Steve x Eddie x Reader, Eddie x Fem!Reader, Steve X Fem!Reader Won’t Write: Underage, Billy Hargrove,  SFW/NSFW: Both, NSFW preference

@heartvouge

Request Type: All Will Write: Steve x Reader, Eddie x Reader Won’t Write: Fluid Play, Suicide, DDLG, Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both

@eddiemunsonswhxre

Request Type: One Shots Will Write: Eddie Munson, All Characters/Ships Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW: Both

@fairymunson

Request Type: One Shots, Drabbles Will Write: Won’t Write: Billy, Chrissy x Eddie SFW/NSFW: Both Note: One Request per Ask

@la-duvalin

Request Type: One Shots Will Write: Dark!Fics, Fluff Only with Angst, Eddie Munson Only, Peter Ballard Only Won’t Write: Fluid Play, Underage, SFW/NSFW: Both, NSFW Preference 

@ladylannisterxo

Request Type:One Shots, Drabbles, Blurbs, Concepts, Headcanons Will Write: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Eddie, Steve, Billy Won’t Write: Underage SFW/NSFW: Both Note: open to other character if discussed prior

@thefinalgirlpng

Request Type: All Will Write: Steve, Eddie, Won’t Write: Pregnant!Reader, Parent!Reader SFW/NSFW: Both

@saintlessmunson

Request Type: Drabbles, Blurbs, One-Shots (depending) Will Write: Eddie, Steve, AU, Dark!fic Won’t Write: ddlg/age regression, fluid, foot fetish, pedophilia  SFW/NSFW: Both Note: Scenario preference: bartender, motel, trailer park

@maycat-19-142

Request Type: Blurb, Drabble, Head-cannons, Fics Will Write: Comfort Won’t Write: NSF, Yandere SFW/NSFW:SFW

@hellfireclubofficial

Request Type: Drabbles, Blurbs Will Write: AU, Eddie, Steve, Robin Won’t Write:SA, Mental Health Issues, Pregnancies   SFW/NSFW:SFW, Some Suggestive 

@munsonshandcuffs

Request Type:Fic Will Write:Eddie, Hard Kinks, Soft Smut Won’t Write:  SFW/NSFW:NSFW  

@glasvera

Request Type: One Shot, Drabble, and Headcanon Will Write: Eddie, Steve, or Robin x Fem!Reader  Won’t Write: Underage, Taboo SFW/NSFW: Both Note: Don’t request characters outside of specified 

@centralperksfunds

Request Type: Fic Will Write:Eddie x Fem!Reader, Angst Won’t Write: Taboo, Trigger, S.H. , S.A. SFW/NSFW: Both

@mggswhorificlover