#anyways will byers is a miracle!!

[pinkeoni]

“What if it’s not a mistake, what if it’s a miracle” HMMMMMMM

[bari-the-witch]

“You boys are lucky Nancy Wheeler called me in advance or else I wouldn’t have let you in. I’m a bit surprised though that you still talk to her Steve - I can call you Steve, right? - after everything that happened with her and Byers.” Murray makes a dismissive motion with his hand. “Whatever. But it seems like you've moved on so … congratulations. This one's suited better for you anyway."

Before Steve can fully comprehend Murray’s words there is a spluttered protest coming from his left.

“It - it’s not like that what the -.”

“Oh please no, not another clueless one. What’s with you teenagers these days? It’s a miracle you’re still able to have relationships with each other.” He takes a big gulp from the glass of water he picked up from the table before he continues. “But yeah. I don’t think that’s the reason you came here in the first place, isn’t it? Why don’t you sit down first and tell me everything?”

“Uh, ok,” Steve draws the last word out, blinking in confusion at Murray’s words and Eddie’s reaction. He still isn’t sure what Murray is getting at or why Eddie’s face suddenly is rivaling a ripe tomato, but he sits down and props up his elbows on his thighs. Murray is right, they aren’t here for whatever this is. He needs answers and hopefully the other can give them to him.

This snippet's from a WIP I'm currently working on (started it for NaNo) about Steve having powers and maybe I'm putting it on AO3 when I'm fisnished.

[rogue-durin-16]

SUNGLASSES AND LIPSTICK STAINS (part II/III)

Summary: After his punch-up with Billy, Steve is in need of medical attention. Going to the hospital isn't an option, so the kids take him to the closest thing they know to a doctor. Funny how the girl who mended his heart back at Tina's party would be the one mending his body.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Genre: angst-fluff (hurt/comfort)

Tags:

Sunglasses And Lipstick Stains: @shycupcakealissa

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads

Warnings: blood, injuries, head trauma, brief mention of smoking, language

A/N: not so fun fact! I didn't have to do much research on head injuries because I've had my fair share of experiences. It's literally a miracle that I'm still completely okay lmao. Anyways enjoy<3

Part I

Part III

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Something was not right. I noticed straight up as I climbed off Samantha's car when she dropped me off —I just couldn't pinpoint what exactly was not right.

There were clear signs, though. The shed's door left ajar; a freshly dug patch of land that lacked grass; the storm cellar's gates wide open.

"Dustin?" My tone was wary when I called for my little brother from our front door.

No response.

"Dustin!" I tried again, setting one foot after another into our home.

Nothing. I felt my nerves beginning to rise. He should be home by now.

I stalked to our landline and picked the phone handle, pressing the number I had so many times called to when Dustin forgot his curfew.

That was probably it, but since Will's disappearance, everyone was on edge. The eerie screeches Samantha and I had heard on our way to my house hadn't helped either.

It didn't take long for a gentle motherly voice to greet me from the other side of the line. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Wheeler! Y/n here. I know it's late but uh..." My leg bounced as I tried to sound as casual as possible. "I was just wondering if Dustin was still there by any chance?"

"Uhm... Dustin wasn't here today, Y/n."

"He... wasn't?" My brows furrowed, the cable of the phone being anxiously twisted on my index finger.

"I... think he might be staying the night at the Byers'?" I hummed at the information, a light relief settling inside me —though it was swiftly torn out by her next sentence. "I don't know what's wrong with these kids today. Billy dropped by a while ago looking for his sister."

"Billy... Hargrove?" My heart nearly stopped at Karen's confirmation, followed by a little ramble about how charming the boy was.

Charming. Well, now, I personally wouldn't have used that word to describe Billy Hargrove.

Thanking Karen for her information, I hung up and trotted to the door. I would walk to the Byers' if I had to.

Just as I got a hold of my set of house keys, the sound of a rear was heard in our quiet street. A peep through my window was enough to make me freeze, because that was Billy Hargrove's car.

Billy Hargrove's car had just mowed down our mailbox.

In the span of five seconds in which I lost sight of our yard in order to open the front door, the scene turned even more bizarre. From the crashed Chevrolet Camaro's driver seat, a petite red haired girl climbed off. To further shock, Dustin, Lucas and Mike scrambled out of the vehicle right after, practically dragging out a semiconscious Steve Harrington.

What the fuck was going on.

One Hour Earlier

DUSTIN'S P. O. V.

I had barely registered Steve's wince after the headlights' overcurrent had blinded us, so seeing the eldest of us stumble to the car for some kind of support, only for his legs to give in once he got to the vehicle, nearly put me under cardiac arrest.

"Shit— Steve?" I called, taking a tentative step towards him while I signaled the others to stay put. "Are you good?"

"Yeah, Dustin, I'm great." The sarcastic response left his lungs in a strained grunt. Before any of us could throw a carless comeback at our assigned babysitter, his torso contorted to the side, allowing him to not throw up on his lap.

There was a colorful variety of panicked gasps, spit as a rapid fire by the four of us who remained standing while I rushed to kneel besides Steve.

"Oh my god..." I exclaimed, tugging Steve's arm to drag him further from his vomit whilst trying not to stare at it. I would so puke myself if I spared the puddle a single glance.

"He has to go to the hospital." Max took a step forward with a concerned frown darkening her gaze.

"No!" Mike made us all jump with his negative. "We just went into the tunnels. Bet if they run tests on him, they'll know something's off."

I heard a very much lost 'Wait what?' coming from Steve as I raised to my feet, hands thrown on the back of my head. "Holy shit."

"Okay but we gotta take him somewhere." Max insisted with urgency. "I mean, look at him."

"Guys I think... I think might pass out."

"Shit..." I cursed under my breath, crouching down momentarily to make sure Steve's back stayed laid on the side of the Camaro. "Shit shit shit. Okay, let me think."

No hospitals. Okay, but he needed medical attention. We needed a doctor. Or at least something close to it. Maybe a medic or...

"She's gonna kill me."

"Who's gon-" Lucas mouthed a quiet 'oh'.

"She's gonna have to suck it up." Mike stated, picking up on who we were talking about and how she felt about people like Steve. Or Nancy, matter-of-factly.

"Who's gonna have to suck it up?" Max exasperated begging for an explanation fell on deaf ears.

"Can you drive us to my house?" I inquired.

She sighed, a determined yet exhausted look lighting up her irises. "Put him in the car."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

"Y/n!" I could barely process Dustin abandoning his friends to run to me, hands raised in surrender and an apologetic smile dancing on his face. "Y/n, hey. Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"What the fuck's going on?" I managed to question, my pitch as high as it could get due to the surreal situation before me.

"You remember what you learned in that first aid course, right?" He decided to ignore my inquiry as he moved my flabbergasted frame aside so Lucas and Mike could carry Steve inside.

"What?" My horrified eyes clocked the older teen's bloodied, swollen face. "The hell happened to him?!"

"My brother's an asshole, that's what happened to him." The ginger girl I finally recognized as Billy's little sister rumbled behind Dustin with folded arms. If I was not mistaken, it must have been the same girl my brother had a crush on— Max, I believed. "I... I think he might have a concussion."

"I'm sorry, how old are you?" She shuffled, sneaking my brother a begging side glance.

"It's okay, she's cool." Dustin whispered.

"Thirteen."

"THIRTEEN?!" I yelled, making them both flinch. "YOU DROVE THEM ALL THE WAY FROM—"

"Y/n! I'm gonna need you to calm down." Dustin's words were slow and clear. "We can't fill you in right now, but I promise—"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"I PROMISE" he reiterated over my words, a bit louder this time. "That I'll tell you everything, but now I need you to fix up Steve." I opened my mouth again, but no words came out of it before Dustin cut me off once more. "I know what you're thinking. 'Dustin, you know I wouldn't touch Steve Harrington with ten-foot pole', but he's a good dude." the oblivious confidence in his words was actually funny, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

"He saved our lives." The girl added.

"Is that why he's—"

"Kinda."

"Yeah!" Dustin shouted, though by the readhead's face, it must have been a half truth. "Now please, can you help him? Please."

A silence reigned among the three of us for a couple of seconds, in which I tried to assess the situation with the little information I had.

In all fairness there wasn't much of a choice to make. Casting my head down for a second, I re-entered the house, now with the pair of kids trailing after me.

"Alright, give him some space." I commanded Mike and Lucas, who were struggling to keep Steve sat still on our largest couch.

My heart clenched the moment I kneeled before my classmate, as I finally had the chance to fully take in his swollen face, peppered in purplish black bruises. "Holy fuck," I muttered, lifting my hand to move a rogue strand of hair out of the way. "He sure did a number on you, didn't he?"

"Henderson." There was some kind of surprise gleaming in his bloodshot orbs at the sight of me. "I'm alright. Just need a bit of sleep."

"You sure? 'cause a little birdie told me you might have a concussion." I whispered, taking my hands to the back of my pocket in order to fish out the half empty pack of smokes inside if which I kept my lighter.

"You smoke?!" Dustin screeched behind me, earning a chastising nudge from Lucas. "What."

"Yes, Dustin. I smoke." I confirmed in a hiss, rotating in the spot to throw daggers at my brother. "And if you tell mom, I'll slit your throat."

Dustin nodded rapidly at my deadpanning warning.

Once I was sure he had gotten the memo, I spun back to look at Steve. "Let me know if I hurt you." With a nod from him, I took a tender hold of his face, the pad of my thumb pressing on the skin beneath his left lower lid in order to open his eyes.

"Woahwoahwoah- what are you doing?" Steve slurred, trying and failing to slip away from my grasp by wrapping his digits around my wrist when he saw the lighter's flame moving close.

"I'm just— Stay still!" He winced at my loud tone, but complied nonetheless. "I'm just checking something. Keep your eyes on me, okay?"

There were a few seconds of expectant silence while I tested Steve's pupils' reaction time to the bright light of the tiny flame before him. It took the boy no time to break it with a soft whisper that surely made my cheeks flush.

"You have like, the prettiest lips." I should have seen something like that was coming by the look on his face.

"And you have a concussion." I declared in response, hoping in vain none of the kids had heard his statement, nor his enchanted tone. "Guys, he needs a hospital."

"No hospitals." Mike's statement held a finality that left me even more confused.

"What do you mean 'no hospitals'?"

"It's okay, Y/n." Steve agreed, which made it all more suspicious. "Just patch me up and I'll go home."

"How? Walking?" I countered, tilting my head to try and meet his avoidant gaze. I soon gave up on him, turning to the kids behind me instead. "Was he unconscious?"

"Yeah but for like, a couple of minutes?" Max asked with a tinge of anxiety in the back of her throat.

"How long's a couple of minutes."

"I don't know, maybe five?" I widened my eyes at Dustin's levity trying my best not to fume.

"Five?!"

"Then he was on and off." Lucas finished, his demeanor closer to Max's than it was to Dustin's.

I gathered all the patience I could find in me to not yell at the kids, and instead chose to return to Steve. "Listen, you need to see a doctor."

"Y/n, it's alright."

"No, it's not alright. What's wrong with you all?" I huffed, attempting to get up, only to be secured in place by Steve's lazy grasp. "I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"NO!"

"Y/N, PLEASE!"

"NO HOSPITALS!"

"Jesus Christ my head..." Steve groaned, bending over with the balls of his hands pressing against his eyes.

"Stop that!" I scolded him, taking his hands in mine. "Everybody SHUT UP!"

I immediately muttered an apology under my breath to Steve for the noise, whose forehead had come to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm gonna clean you up, and we'll... we'll move on from there." The boy nodded, messy hair bouncing at the movement and tickling my cheeks. "C'mon, Harrington, upsy-daisy. Wheeler! a little help here, please."

As soon as I began to pull him up with me, both Lucas and Mike appeared on either sides of my peripheral vision, scooping Steve's arms over their shoulders.

"Take him to the bath— actually no, take him to my room." I commanded them, walking over to the kitchen sink in order to wash my hands. "Dustin, go check if mom's still asleep."

At the lack of movement, I spared the two remaining kids in the room a look of urgency, only to be met by Dustin's baffled face.

"What."

"What was that?" He inquired in an accusative tone.

"I genuinely don't know what you're talking about." I lied, choosing to play stupid, keeping myself busy with filling a bowl with warm water and, right after, digging in our freezer for ice to avoid meeting Dustin's inquisitive eyes.

"You know what I'm talking about." I did my best to look clueless, which only seemed to exasperate my brother more. "The sexual electricity!"

"The what?" Max questioned, pulling a face at Dustin while my eyes widened because who the fuck taught him that.

Before I could get a word in, the two taller boys that had carried Steve to my room came back.

"Just check if mom's asleep, okay?" I insisted, taking backwards steps into the hall to reach the bathroom. "I'll be right back."

STEVE'S P. O. V.

The silence of Y/n's room was filled with the buzzing going on my head. As much as I would have loved to take a look around to hopefully catch a more solid grip of her already visible personality, keeping my eyes open with the light on was an effort I couldn't afford.

Due to being laid down on my back across the mattress with my forearm over my eyes, I didn't acknowledge Y/n's presence until she spoke.

"Hey."

"Hey." I reciprocated the greeting in the same soft, careful tone without changing my position. I was tempted to peek from under my temporary light shield when I heard her pacing around the room, moving from one corner to another, but I ended up waiting for her signal.

Soon enough, a two switches were flipped and a hand was patting my thigh. "C'mon, pretty boy."

I opened my eyes to see the room's ceiling light had been replaced with a warm toned night lamp by our side.

Without a word and some struggle, I propped myself forward and attempted to sit upright. The not so genuine smile I spared the girl before sitting on a chair earned me a sympathetic look.

She seemed to want to say a thousand different things, but stayed quiet instead, soaking a cotton cloth on an undersized bowl which rested atop her lap.

"Y/n?" She hummed, prompting me to go on. "You okay?"

Her irises shot up from her lap with incredulity. "Me?" She huffed, reaching to carefully remove the couple of colorful band-aids the kids had placed on my temple. "I'm peachy. You, on the other hand?"

"I'll be okay."

"I know." She raised the wet cloth to my forehead, and distractedly whispered, "Let me know if it hurts." before squeezing the piece of fabric above it, letting the lukewarm water run down the cut.

Instinctively, I raised the hem of my shirt to dry the droplets, but Y/n's expertise hands were much quicker. With a dry piece of toilet paper, she made sure the now dirty water wouldn't drip on my clothes, whilst beginning to ever so gently tap on the cut with the wet cloth.

I didn't realize how tense I was until the girl halted her actions, furrowing her brows at me. "Am I hurting you?"

"No- shit, not at all." I'm just not used to people taking care of me, my heart wanted to confess; my brain barely refrained it. And, had I kept my eyes on Y/n's for an instant longer, the sentence would have slipped anyway.

"Let's get you more comfortable, okay?" She suggested, moving the first aid items from her lap to the nightstand.

I simply nodded at her suggestion, chin still downcasted even when her grip secured my forearms to help me turn and slide backwards. An inpatient, mildly frustrated curse escaped her lips due to the struggle, stealing the ghost of a laugh from me when she had to abandon the chair and plant her knees on the mattress.

"I think I can do this myself." I teased, digging my heels on the blanket to push and help with my relocation.

"I think it's too late for that." She snapped back, releasing one of my forearms to cup the back of my head before it could hit the headboard. "Careful now." She muttered, only letting her fingers slide out of my hair when the back of her palm was pressed against the wooden piece of furniture.

I had to repress a mewl at the loss of touch, though I couldn't hide my pout when the warmth of her skin abandoned mine —nor could I avoid how I instinctively reached to hold her thigh in place when she attempted to retreat back to the chair.

Don't leave.

Instead of moving away, she lowered her own hand on mine, rubbing soothing circles on top of it with her thumb.

I'm not going anywhere.

After readjusting the lamp besides us and taking back the bowl and cloth, she repeated in silence the process carried out on the cut splitting my temple, this time on the one in my swollen lip.

"Did he only go for the head or...?" She questioned once she was done cleaning the open cuts.

Truth was, I didn't really know. After the third punch, everything was blank, but Y/n was worried enough as she was; adding that to the mix wouldn't do any good. "Pretty much."

"He's a fucking tool." She seethed, grabbing the antiseptic lotion to apply it on my temple. "Should've let Sam run him over at Tina's party."

"That would've made my night." I realized too late that the amused smile twisting my lips reopened the slit, and earned me some lighthearted chastising from Y/n.

"As if I didn't make your night." She taunted me, paying extra attention to my lips to make sure the bleeding was cut short before she brushed in the lotion with her fingertip.

The scene was too reminiscent of that one night, and I wondered if Y/n's intense stare on my mouth meant she was feeling the same urge to kiss me now that I had felt then.

"So uhm... Does Dustin know—"

And just like that, the spell was broken.

"Jesus, no." She snorted, straightening up her position. "And he's never gonna find out."

"Because you're embarrassed?" I furrowed my brows at the senior before me. She immediately mirrored my visage, and I felt the need to explain myself. "In the car, Dustin and Lucas were going on about how you despise me. And I mean, I got a complete different impression at Tina's party, but maybe you— I don't know, are ashamed of what happened?"

"What? No! No." She gulped, suddenly finding the clean gauze on her folded thigh very interesting. "I mean, I might have— I might have mentioned you weren't my uhhh favorite person to Dustin a couple of times, but— yeah, no." She shook her head to emphasize her words.

"Then why?" I hated the neediness in my tone; the way my voice broke. I blamed the lack of sleep and the adrenaline rollercoaster the last couple of days had been.

"First off, my little brother has no business in my love life." She fairly pointed out with a quirked brow. "And second, he'll tell Mike, and I bet Mike will tell Nancy."

"We broke up." I blurted out. With what intention? I didn't really know, and by the look on her face, neither did Y/n.

"You know it'll still piss her off."

"It was just a kiss."

She stared blankly at me for a second.

'No, it wasn't' was the sentence read on her expression —and she was right, it hadn't just a kiss. It was the best kiss I've ever had.

"And that's why no one needs to know." She said instead, with deluded resignation in her words. "Listen, Steve." Sigh. "We got more important... Matters to attend. Don't you think?"

"Right."

The following few minutes elapsed without a word. We drowned in the quietness of the room while Y/n finished patching me up. Hadn't I know better, I would have said she was lingering.

"You could use those sunglasses right now." She observed, taking my chin between her thumb and index to move me around.

"I'm pretty sure they're at the Byers'."

She gave her head a couple of slow shakes. I had earlier wondered if she would interrogate me any further about the events leading up to this moment, given how little she had asked about it, and the time had come. "How did you end up babysitting these assholes?"

"Your little shit of a brother got me mixed up in some dangerous business 'cause no one else was around." I explained, trying my best to give away nothing apart from the necessary. "It kinda kept escalating from there."

She dropped her hands on her lap, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times before finally asking, "what's going on, Steve?"

I didn't have time to say a single thing before the door was shoved open, making us both jolt on the spot.

"I'M NOT LOOKING!" Dustin yelled from the entrance with covered eyes.

"Dustin, what the fuck?!" The girl turned to hysterically gesture at the kid, whose hand fell limply to his side with a relieved exhale when he was met with nothing but his sister handing me an ice bag. "What is it."

"Can Lucas, Mike and Max stay the night?" It took a hot minute for Y/n to give her brother an affirmative response. She probably wasn't a fan of Billy showing up at her doorstep looking for Max like he had done at the Byers'.

"I'll get Max pj's in a moment." The eldest sister relented, shooing her little brother out shortly after.

"This kid."

"I know." She agreed with a breathy laugh, giving me an up-and-down. "Okay, you're all good. Or as good as it gets."

"I'm all ready to go home?"

Y/n's slack jawed expression made it really hard not to throw a fit of laughter. "And how the fuck will you go home, Steve?"

"I'll walk to the Byers'." I began to explain in a Self-assured manner. "My car's there and—"

"So is Hargrove." She cut me off. "And then what, then you drive?"

I threw my hands up in surrender between us. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay the night." The girl before me put that out there as if it was the most logical response; as if we had been friends for so long that not crashing in unprompted wasn't even up to question. It certainly wasn't the case. "Take the bed. I have to watch over and see if I gotta rush you to the hospital anyway." She nonchalantly explained, trying not so subtly to reassure me.

"I don't wanna be a bother."

"I'm inviting you." She responded, rocking herself slightly forward.

"Why are you so sweet to me?" It was more of an out loud thought than a real question, but I obtained a reply nevertheless.

"It's called minimal decency, Harrington." Flashing me a quick half smile, Y/n abandoned the bed and walked to the barely lit dresser at the foot of the bed. "I think I have... Ah, got it." She wiggled a piece of clothing I could barely discern and threw it at me. "You'll be more comfortable in that."

"Thanks." I mumbled after unfolding the item and realizing it was a big soft t-shirt.

"No worries." Y/n's body was back to being folded to fish out something else from the drawers, which i figured would be sleepwear for Max. "Alright, I'm gonna go arrange the gang of toddlers I have camped in the living room." I nodded at her, not missing the way her eyes slipped down to my torso once I had discarded both my jacket and shirt. "I'll... be right back."

In the last couple of days, I had had a lot of bizarre experiences, but one I certainly did not expect was sleeping in Y/n Henderson's bed. In her shirt. What was life even.

I had just barely accommodated myself under Y/n's covers when the door was once more shoved open, nearly giving my a heart attack. Unsurprisingly enough, the figure entering the room was not the girl who had just patched up my wounds, but Dustin.

"Everything okay?" I questioned, sitting up again, but the kid did not respond — not until he was sat on the chair by the bed anyway.

"Steve."

"Dustin."

I gave the kid a puzzled look when he took a deep breath, as if he was about to break some horrible news to me.

"Do you have a thing for my sister?"

"What?" It came out in a high-pitched, panicked tone, which definitely did not playing in my favor.

"I'm not gonna be mad," Dustin on the contrary spoke calmly, like a parent who was about to scold their child. "I just want to know."

"Jesus, Dustin. No. I do NOT have a thing for Y/n."

I felt myself getting smaller under the thirteen year old's scrutinizing glare, praying for him to be convinced because I didn't have the strength to have that conversation with anyone, let alone a child.

Eventually, the youngest Henderson caved in and spared me, choosing to get up and leave instead of questioning me any further. Maybe he himself didn't really want to know, or maybe he thought I had been put through enough already.

With one last squinted, unconvinced look from the room's entrance, Dustin closed the door, leaving me alone with just the warm colored night lamp to illuminate the space.

Releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding, I slid back into the silky sheets permeated with Y/n's perfume, which lulled me to sleep faster than I would have ever imagined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

It took me longer than expected to set up a proper sleeping place for the middle schoolers, but not long enough for someone to fall asleep in the meantime.

Yet there he was, sound asleep, lightly snoring in my bed when I got back to the bedroom. The mere thought of having to wake him up again was breaking my heart a little, but it was imperative.

With a quiet whine, I dragged my feet to the side of the bed before plopping down on the chair. God, even after fixing him up, he was in an awful state.

'Billy hit him pretty hard.' Max had confided me in a whisper, face full of guilt. 'I thought he was gonna kill him.'

"Steve." I called for him in the most gentle voice I could. Nothing. "Steve." I tried again. Again, nothing.

He was completely knocked out.

I resolved to try from a closer distance, so I leaned on until my lips were inches away from him and... Nothing came out of me. How could someone look so beautiful all beaten up?

I didn't fully register my movements until my lips were lightly pressed on his cheekbone. The positive side is that that seemed to do the trick to wake him up. The negative was that he had definitely felt the kiss.

His initial confusion, however, was quick to melt into an entranced expression I couldn't fully decipher.

"Hi." He whispered under his breath, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Hi." I greeted back with what I was sure it looked like a smitten smile. "I brought you Tylenol." He muttered a relieved 'thank god', propping himself on his forearms to take first the medicine and then the glass of water I was offering him. "I'm gonna stay put for a little while." I informed him, taking back the now empty glass to place it on the cramped nightstand. "If I'm sleeping and you start to feel like you're dying, wake me up."

It was a half joke, but Steve only furrowed his brows. "Wait are you gonna sleep on that?" He pointed at my chair with disgust while going back to his previous position.

"Where the hell do you want me to sleep?" I asked rhetorically with the intention of pointing out the lack of free sleeping places in the house, but I got a response.

"Lay down with me?"

I would be lying if I said I wasn't tempted by the offer, but it just seemed wrong, so with a halfhearted smile, I shook my head no.

"Had to try." Steve clicked his tongue, poorly hiding his own disappointment. "Night, Henderson."

"Night, Harrington." I mumbled back, folding my arms over the mattress and resting my chin on them.

"Thank you." Had we not been in complete silence, the dozed off boy's words would have been inaudible. "For everything." He added, finding my fingers with his own and lazily intertwining them.

My heart skipped a bit at the touch and I silently cursed myself, because I was definitely crushing on Steve Harrington.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Love Is

There are some logical things Steve should do immediately after the world gets saved by El in November of 1984 and they meet again at the Byers' house. This concussed, bloodied and beaten Steve who's just breathed in tons of toxic spores and was ready to die protecting Dustin from a pack of demodogs, all that while nonchalantly breaking up with his beloved girlfriend for her own good and giving her a green light for her new relationship, this Steve should prioritize some self-care.  He should at least get his wounds properly treated or get checked for damage to his head. That is the rational approach. 

But that isn't the Steve Harrington approach. 

Instead of that, he wobbles towards Joyce and starts apologizing for the demodog carcass in her freezer, but also for the broken plate because he was supposed to keep an eye on things, he just can't bear to disappoint her more because she's just lost her boyfriend, he didn't know him, of course, but it doesn't matter, Steve knows what it's like to be in love and he doesn't want to imagine what she's going through, can't imagine losing that connection for good. And so he explains how sorry he is for causing more problems. Basically he apologizes for everything, for getting beaten to a pulp by Billy (who was conveniently gone when they came back, Max snickers at Billy probably walking home since she stole his car), for stuffing a dead demodog into her freezer because Dustin asked him to ("and I understand how unhygienic and disturbing that is, Mrs. Byers, I really do, but the kid seems really smart and this is so important to him, maybe I could move it to my house so you don't have to keep it here, I don't use our fridge anyway..."), for bleeding on her floor. 

Joyce's mouth is agape. She is frozen in place, only her pupils move as Steve points out the plate shards, the blood, the shelves he and Billy knocked into. 

Steve keeps standing there, looking at the tips of his shoes while swaying from side to side, and rambles on. "I'm so sorry for your plate Mrs. Byers, I didn't mean to shatter it, I mean it wasn't me who did that but it shattered over my face so I still kind of am at fault, I will clean that in a second if you can just point me to a broom...also there might be some more damage to your house, I'm pretty sure Max - you know, the ginger girl - created a few holes in your floor and I'll figure out how to fix that, to be fair I think it was needed in that moment but I understand if you're angry about that, the blood will hopefully come off if I get to it soon, I will also get you new plates or-!"

And Joyce's eyes grow glassy, she can't imagine why this boy would be so concerned for her house when he looks like he might faint any second, when he just protected all her son's friends while hardly able to stand. She just mutters "screw this house and the plates" and pulls Steve into a hug. It's messy, sticky (Joyce is still sweaty from exorcising the Mindflayer from Will and Steve is covered in crusts of blood, soil and indescribable stuff from the Upside Down), but it's perfect.

Steve doesn't understand what's happening, probably wouldn't understand even if he was in his right mind, but he returns the hug and Joyce keeps whispering to him "you did so well, you basically accomplished a miracle, thank god you were here, Steve, those kids are so lucky to have you on their side". 

When he untangles himself from Joyce's arms and tries to reassure her that he's (probably) going to be fine, Hopper appears behind him, trying to give El at least a shred of privacy to reconnect with Mike. "You really did well, kid," he smiles at Steve and grasps his shoulder. "I'll ask you about the details in a while, I would very much like to know everything about who did this because there is a file just begging to be opened...hell, I might even come to work on time tomorrow. But first..." 

He looks to the side and Steve just now notices Joyce standing there with a first aid kit. "Oh yes, please check on the kids," he nods and wobbles to the side. "Wheeler got grabbed by one of those tentacle things and his ankle might be bruised or something, I mean he walks fine but I'd still rather-" 

But Hopper isn't having any of it. "Sit," he orders and there is no question, no maybe in his tone. Steve does as he's told and, as he's taking a deep breath, gets interrupted again. "And shut up for a moment, it'll do your jaw some good. The others are okay," Hopper adds when he sees the uneasy glance towards the living room. "Unlike you. You know, you didn't have to do what you did. That makes it even more...commendable," he grumbles and grabs the disinfection from the first aid kit, checks under the colorful band aids on Steve's face. 

Joyce is by his side, preparing band aids more appropriate to the size of Steve's injuries, and hums in agreement. "Very commendable. I would also say reckless, but I don't think any of us were...how do I say it...careful?" 

"Not stupid," Hopper huffs again and finishes taking care of Steve's cuts. "Now, Harrington, right? Get some rest and I will pay you a visit tomorrow to ensure this," he gestures vaguely to his face, "doesn't happen again."

As Steve nods, quietly thanks them and turns to leave, he hears Joyce clear her throat. "Um...Steve. I don't mean to pry, but are your parents home?" 

He shakes his head, as gently as possible to avoid any more pain. "No. They...I think they're on dad's business trip or...something." He honestly doesn't know and doesn't care, it's not like their presence would change anything. "Don't worry Mrs. Byers, I think this," he points to his bruised face, "will go away before they decide to come back. They won't know anything." 

Joyce just groans and closes her eyes. "I'll pretend I just didn't hear that," she mutters before looking back at Steve, pointing towards the couch. "Then you're staying here for the night. You got hit in the head, Steve. You need someone with you just in case. The couch is not the most comfortable one in existence, but if anything happens, I'll be nearby. I probably won't sleep anyway, so it's not like you'll be any extra work," she adds. Her smile is tired, tense, she is exhausted but determined to see that Will is okay and will remain to be. "I'll get you some clothes and blankets." 

Hopper shushes Steve when he begins to protest. "Now that's a wise woman. Don't tell her I said that. But she's right, you're in no condition to drive and I'll sleep much better if I know no one's going to wake me up in two hours to report a concussed teenager crashing into a tree. So, you're under house arrest until," he ponders, stroking his mustache, "let's say nine. I will stop by and check on you." 

Steve still feels sore as Jonathan hands him a clean t-shirt and sweatpants and gently directs him to the bathroom, making sure three times that the size is okay with him.

He feels his heart aching from the recent breakup as Nancy takes over preparing the couch and creates a mountain of pillows so he doesn't suffocate in his sleep if anything happens, then squeezes his hand and thanks him for saving her brother from his own recklessness.

He definitely still feels confused when Dustin ponders for a moment before leaving, reaches out as if to shake Steve's hand and then just hugs Steve, arms tight around his waist. "Thank you for everything, Steve. You're really cool, you know," he smiles at him and demands that Hopper brigs him along the following day to verify what Steve remembers from his fight with Billy. 

But most of all, he feels more loved than he has in his whole life. He thinks it might just be the potential concussion, gratefulness and possible guilt that will eventually fade away, so he tries his best not to get used to the feeling, not to expect anything. He closes his eyes, buries his aching head in the pillow mountain and falls asleep.

During the night, he sometimes hears soft steps, even imagines feeling gentle fingers on his forehead. He feels safe.

In the morning, Joyce brings him a glass of juice and some light food he can stomach, her small hands pushing his chest back to lie down when he tries to at least help with the dishes. He feels cared for. 

Six minutes after nine, Hopper announces himself with three sharp knocks. He greets Joyce and immediately walks to Steve, checking on him and jotting down some notes on the damage he sustained. He feels protected. 

Dustin doesn't arrive with Hopper ("he needs the sleep and I told him so yesterday, the kid is too nosy for his own good"), but the small gremlin arrives shortly afterwards on his bike. He's breathless, but when he barges in and sees Steve sitting up and talking to Hopper, his face breaks out into a wide smile. "You're fine!" he yells and, after being shushed by the whole household, tiptoes to check on Will. He's back in a few minutes, sitting down next to Steve. Hopper seems dangerously close to strangling him, especially when Dustin starts reenacting the fight with Billy, but Steve is smiling and ruffles Dustin's hair from time to time. He still feels loved. 

And to Steve's surprise, that feeling doesn't go away. Dustin keeps checking on him, finding the weirdest pretenses to stop by, once claiming he'd like to swim in the pool in late November. He becomes a constant in Steve's life and soon he's driving Dustin to school, chatting with him about anything and everything. Friendships have never been this easy. 

He sees El a few weeks later when Hopper asks him to stop by to discuss the next steps regarding Billy. She checks his face, now mostly healed, and reaches out to grasp his hand. "You saved Mike. Thank you." She stops for a moment, thinking, and then adds. "If he hurts you again, I will break his legs." 

Max comes to thank him when he drops charges against Billy after a quiet agreement between both parties, no charges, also no mention of Max stabbing a needle in Billy's neck. "You're cool, you know," she tells him, giving him one of her rare smiles. "I thought you were insane back at the junkyard...but Dustin was right. It was really cool." 

Lucas and Mike come to him some days, bringing leftover food from Karen Wheeler. She knows his parents are never home and now that Nancy spends so much time at Joyce's house, there is always some food to give away. Steve might no longer be with Nancy, but Karen has known him for over a year and her care doesn't end with a breakup. Lucas is clear with his affection, openly acknowledging they'd all be dead if Steve wasn't with them that night. Mike scoffs and complains about being used as a food delivery service, but Lucas just laughs and nudges Mike's side. "Don't mind him," he says to Steve quietly so that Mike doesn't hear him, "he likes you too. He even reminded his mom when she forgot to give him today's box." 

Steve doesn't have a romantic relationship anymore. He doesn't even try to find one in the last year at school, settling into his new routine instead. But despite falling asleep alone and pushing away all interested girls in the Hawkins High, he has never felt more loved.

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 18

word count: 503

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

February 14, 1989

Dear Will,

I hate Valentine’s Day with a burning passion. You know this already. It’s a day where people profess their love for each other in the cheesiest, most materialistic ways and it makes me want to vomit. And it’s not just that; it’s the fact that people like me aren’t able to do those same things… at least, not in public. But that’s the whole point of Valentine’s Day– declaring your love for someone, and everyone else knows about it.

But the worst part about this particular Valentine’s Day was that you got valentines from so many girls. It was like they were vultures circling overhead, waiting for their chance to swoop in and get their chance with William Jacob Byers, the insanely attractive, sweet, talented artist with a smile that contains the light of a thousand suns. I mean, I don’t blame them, because if I were a girl, I would be… I’m not even gonna try and finish that sentence. I know for a fact that even if I were a girl, I wouldn’t have a shot with you. You turned down all the real ones, so why would I be any different?

Anyway, the plot thickens: during lunch, some girl came up to us looking all shy and asking to speak with you in private. The way she smiled at you reminded me of a bloodthirsty shark, or maybe a rabid saber tooth lion. You looked at me, almost as if you were afraid to be alone with her. I would be too, if I’m being completely honest with you. I told her that you were busy going over our math homework that was due next period (we didn’t even have it out at that point, but whatever). She scoffed at me before proceeding to ask you if you wanted to go and get ice cream “or something” after school, “like, a date.” I think she and I both held our breath while awaiting your response. 

By some miracle, you told her you were flattered, but you weren’t interested; you had plans with me this afternoon. Which wasn’t technically true, since we hadn’t made any plans that were set in stone, but I backed you up and helped let her down… well, not so slowly. More like tossing her off a cliff at the speed of light. But still. She thanked you anyway and walked off, probably to go cry in the girls’ bathroom or some shit. You glanced in my direction to thank me, and I asked if you were serious about having plans with me later. You shrugged and said, “Well, I’m down if you are.” I was down, alright. So unbelievably down, you have no idea. Spending Valentine’s Day with you is an opportunity I would never pass up, platonic or otherwise. And now it’s just a matter of time until you come over. I have a Star Wars marathon and all your favorite snacks ready to go. I can’t wait.

Love,

Mike

-

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homepage

[sade-alicious]

summer reading list except byler edition (all AO3) - im still reading new fics btw so there’ll be updates on this post (updated 10/22)

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a dream always the same

Mike learns more about himself in four months than he has in fourteen years and comes to realise that he's fallen in love with his best friend.

A four part historically accurate coming of age story set between July and October 1985.

this one is my number one, its set between the battle of starcourt and when the byers move away, its from mikes pov and not short of amazingly written, it includes all of the canon events in the show towards the end of the s3 finale but manages to tie them in really well, absolutely read this

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over a bridge of time

Hawkins isn't the same without Will. So Mike goes to visit him in Chicago.

Set during Thanksgiving in November 1985.

this is a sequel to adats, same thing goes for this work, but be warned, this is the second (but not last) completed work in a series, so its gonna end on a cliffhanger/unresolved problems like the first fic

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the red envelope

Will writes a letter to Mike, confessing everything. Unknowingly and stupidly, he lets Mike take the envelope home, forgetting just the amount of secrets inside. At the end of the letter he tells Mike to meet him at Castle Byers Saturday at two, to tell him yes or no. Because of course Will had to ask for Mike to be his boyfriend at the end of the letter. So now Will has two choices, somehow get the letter back, or wait at Castle Byers praying for a miracle?

this one is good, it has an interesting concept and was “will they or wont they?” for me. u can read the sequel, but i really dont like because 1. smut (ew, but dont worry only the sequel has it) 2. it follows a will byers has powers trope, and i dont care for it

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touch like velvet

It was easy for Will Byers to fall in love with Mike Wheeler.

The trouble came when he had to pretend it wasn't real.

this one is an au of will and mike not meeting until they’re 17, there is no upside down and el isnt a lab experiment but instead a normal person. will still has the rest of the party, but its sort of split in two. will, lucas, and dustin are all bsfs, and el and max are gfs who are coworkers/friends with mike. this one i truly recommend so so much. its a lengthy slowburn, but it is unfinished and updates slow

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im tearing you asunder

The world ends, and then some. Mike and Will find each other again, amidst the debris and distance.

someone made AMAZING fanart based off of this which ill link here. but anyways this ones really nice, mike isnt an asshole and actually treats will like a friend. its a lead off of the s4 finale and ive been obsessed with those fanfics rn. (if you have any recs please comment them🙏)

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kiss it better

Mike and Will, through the years and in between the lines of friendship and something more.

i LOVE young mike and will and this one has plenty. it has byler scenarios over the course of their friendship from 5 to 18 which shows their relationship evolving the years. its a great concept in it of itself. but yeah, please read this one

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let me lead

this one just has a snippet of the fic so ill try to explain. basically this is a lead off of s4, so pretty much everyone thinks this is their last night alive, and to which mike says “screw it” and invites will over and confronts him about some things

so for my opinion, they wrote it in a scenario like, if i dont say what i think/feel now…when will i? which is great because it helps move things along quickly, so its not exactly a slowburn but they write everything in just under 6k words from el breaking up with mike, to an angsty fight, to byler confessing in a way that doesnt feel rushed

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pictures of you

Will is the last one left at Mike's house after a day playing DnD.

Mike brings out an old box, full of memories of their past.

ugh this one is short but its so good. it does a lot in under 3k words and is a great byler first kiss scenario

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a game of truths

Mike and Will play a game of truths.

this one is amazing, like the rest of the fanfics ive listed. its one of the more byler centric ones. most of it is just mike and will talking and having their moments. its really cute (esp with young mike and will) and does byler justice without writing two long paragraphs of them just making out. 

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8/14/22

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where is my mind?

On November 6th, 1985, Will Byers crashed his bicycle while riding home from the Wheeler household, damaging his head and waking up two days later with no recollection of who he was.

Plagued with the absence of his memories and a dark haired boy who refuses to tell Will his name, all Will Byers has to do is remember. That's the hard part.

this is by the same author that wrote “touch like velvet” and they’re a GENIUS. this one like the other fic, its an au aside from the upside down where will just suffers from memory loss instead of getting kidnapped and everything, but its really cute because its like no matter what will and mike still love each other

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static re-connection

A miles-apart, oblivious mutual pining, emotional summer vacation disaster-fest starring Mike, Will, and one incredibly unreliable radio connection.

miscommunication trope at its FINEST. once the angst started it hurt, the confession is great and we get plenty of mike and nancy sibling moments👍

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i never find out ‘til i’m head over heels

Wherein Mike believes he’s being obvious, Will doesn’t know what he believes, and the pair of them could use a lesson or two in effective communication. Somehow all of this has both nothing and everything to do with five years' worth of school dances.

this ones great but also kind of funny because will’s being the oblivious one instead of mike. its light angst btw so u dont have to worry abt your heart being ripped out of your chest.

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10/13/22

——————

head over heels

On their way to Hawkins, the group decides to stay at a motel for the night.

Mike and Will get a moment alone to talk.

i was praying for more byler scenes in volume 2 whether be at a gas station, motel, or literally anywhere else so this fanfic gave us what we deserved, but yea its really cute def recommend !!

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undertow

Will has never had his first kiss. Mike is happy to lend a hand

as you can tell its gonna be a mike teaching will how to kiss and those are always cute even tho ive only read two successful versions of this scenario. also madwheeler🫶🫶 its really fluffy and cute at the end so this was also a good 3am read

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force of gravity

Will loved ordinary things, an uneventful existence was something he craved. Sadly, when Mike Wheeler walks into his life, Will’s easy going path snaps right in half. A passion he could never imagine overtaking his whole being.

It was too bad their friend groups hated each other and his sister had a huge crush on the musician. Off limits.

Fantastic.

you already KNOW i had to include this one, its too good not too. and you probably already heard of this if not read it bc its like the most popular fanfic among the byler ship/fandom (it might as well be a fandom at this point) right now. but yea the amount of times when i thought they were gonna have a normal conversation but then start argueing is INSANE. hella angst. fluff if you look past the bucket loads of angst and just GO READ IT IF YOU HAVENT

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10/22/22

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to hell and back again

After Mike unwittingly stumbles into a series of interpersonal bombshells, he immediately sets out to find Will so he can find out what, exactly, that painting meant, and why Will lied about it. Unfortunately, Mike is obsessively obstinate and relentless to a fault, and he'll go to the literal ends of the earth to get the answers he needs.

Or: Mike and Will's Apocalypse Romcom Spectacular

this one is actually super underrated and i havent seen many people talking abt it, and the author has been updating the fic recently too. but ANYWAYS im on chapter 11 rn and its really giving apocalypse byler, what we’ve ALL been praying for for season 5🙏 but other than that its really good so far but OML MIKE NEEDS TO GET HIS PRIORITIES STRAIGHT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THINGS GOOD HE IS SO DOWN BAD ITS LAUGHABLE

[findafight]

THANK YOU for the scoops troop post starcourt fic bc it’s been driving me CRAZY that the whole tortured by Russian MILITARY as teenagers was never brought up again!? Especially with Steve - like I don’t know how my guy handles physical touch and affection after all he’s been through physically and emotionally and he’s written off as a haha character most of the time but there’s SO much there with trauma, especially since the only other person with an inkling of what happened with the Russians is Robin

Ahhh yeah continuing this fic is definitely on the list. sorry this gets a little rambling and idk if it makes sense. Because obviously Steve and Robin don't outright tell Dustin and Erica what happened but they're smart kids and sort figured there was some light torture happening. And when you're running on adrenaline a lot of stuff doesn't register right away, so they have to have a chat about that and guilt for 'letting' it happen.

And like, they could have mentioned it when everyone regrouped in the food court but by that point Robin and Steve were crashing from Russian drugs and I can only assume they thought it was pretty obvious where they'd been what with Erica telling Murray how to actually get in. But then it's over and Hopper is dead and so is billy so it's not even the biggest deal that they were tortured and Robin definitely thought Steve was dead for a bit. They can deal with it together.

With Steve it's like "haha Steve is slow on the uptake and doesn't understand a lot and isn't very smart and asks a lot of dumb questions" and never "steve has had two severe concussions within a year of each other and he still graduated highschool on time only to be concussed AGAIN" my poor beloved blorbo please someone let him rest. And I desperately want one of the actual adult members of the upside down crew to realize that he's just sort of. Dealt with it by himself or with Robin, that he doesn't have the same support network as the party or Joyce and Hop or Nancy and Jonathan (who both have siblings that understand, Jon with his mom as well). And yeah he has Robin after S3, and Dustin is basically his brother, but it's different, because the only one who he'd remotely be absolutely honest with is Robin, who also only has him, and actually it's a miracle they're functional at all.

And I want Steve to be confused why the Grown Ups are mad (worried?) That he didn't tell them he and Robin were actually literally tortured because they all had better things to do, they had no obligations to Steve. He and Robin had each other, and he and Robin supported Dustin and Erica, and they're all fine now. The first few months were rough, sure, but now it's okay.

Plus the fact that the Byers were moving leaving Steve as the oldest person besides Murray who didn't live in Hawkins who knew about the upsidedown. He was the one that was supposed to be in charge and responsible, because no one else should have to do that when they're all trying to move on, so what good would telling Joyce, who would be far from Hawkins and its horrors, about how he could barely wear his watch sometime because it reminded him of being tied back to back with Robin. She couldn't do anything about it and she didn't get it the way Robin would.

So he and Robin have sleep overs and long talks so they're semi functional and can help Erica and Dustin work through it too. They deal with it together, because none of their parents know and Steve is accustomed to adults being unreliable even without world ending secrets involved. And there aren't any grown ups around anyways so. He's the grown up of the group and it's his job to make sure all the kids are okay.

I think out of anyone outside of Scoops Troop, Lucas probably knows the most because Erica is his sister and now she knows he gets her to talk about it. She's reluctant at first because he wasn't there, but does, because Lucas is her big brother and he is there for her. And while he and Steve were friends after Billy in S2 and Steve's protective streak, Lucas gets really close to Steve with Erica, because they're both clingy to each other and Steve, for all he's basically a bag of nervously shaking chihuahuas with hairspray and ibuprofen keeping him from breaking down at any given moment he isn't holding Robin's hand, seems like a stable force in their lives.

[reddthekingg]

Well, howdy hey! I'm Rowan/Redd!

You may know me from... nothing. You don't know who I am, let's be honest here. BUT I'd like for you to know me! Not ME me, but know me for my writing!

I have a big project planned for 2024. I say big, but I don't think most people will consider it big, but it is for me! For a huge amount of time, I have been OBSESSED with the idea of writing a long Byler fanfic that people get attached to and anticipate updates to. My original ideas have all been very uncoordinated and, honestly? So is this one. :')

I don't want to just figure out the story as I'm writing. I want to have it planned before release. But I'm a stubborn little fella, so in spite of my own warnings, I have begun writing!

So far, only the prologue has been released. It's very short and doesn't give much insight into the characters. I've made character cards for all of the main and supporting cast, but I'm hesitant to post it because of spoilers.

My main focus with this fic is to COMPLETELY rewrite the characters, only keeping fundamental aspect of them intact. I want to make my own Will and Mike but still have them recognisable to read. I want to create a story, not just a fan work, if that makes any sense.

I've had this idea brewing in my head for awhile now. Initially, I only wanted to make 13 chapters, but I think I may make more, depending on how much I enjoy the story or how you guys like my retelling of Byler. I want you to fall in love with these characters just as much as I have.

Now, whats this story called, you may ask? Well, I'll gladly tell you! My story is called...

Two of Hearts!

Wow, so original, a title based off of playing cards. Enough self deprecation, now, whats the synapse of this story?

'' Mike Wheeler is a self hating fuck. For years, he has been blaming himself for every mishap in his life, every hiccup. Despite all that, he was a people pleaser, he would do anything to make sure those around him were as happiest as they could be. That’s why he’s dating a girl, despite being a gay man. It’s not like he was out, so she wouldn’t have known his sexuality to stop herself from confessing. It’s not like he would have turned her down. On the flip side of the card, William Byers, at least to the outside world, was so far up his own ass he’d marry himself, if given the chance. That’s not exactly true however. Deep rooted anxiety and insecurities chip away at him every single day, it’s a fucking miracle he’s still here. But keeping up appearances has always been easy for him. Even when life was at it’s worst.

But when Mike begins dating Jane Hopper, Will’s sister, it isn’t long before Will see’s through the boys flimsy facade. The two hate the ground the other walks on, but what happens when the only people they have left to count on is one another? 

Everyone has to move on, eventually. Right? ,,

Oooooooo ambigousssssssssss

Anyway, if you'd like to check out the prologue for this story (and maybe bookmark it for further chapters), I present thy with: the link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/52280314/chapters/132249784

And there ya' have it, folks! I really hope you stick around to see where these two silly goobers end up, and if you'd like to ask any questions about the story or the characters, drop a little ask in my box and I'll get to it as soon as!

Thank you!

-Redd/Rowan

[berenwrites]

Beyond the Battle - Chapter 22 - Stranger Things - Steddie

Beyond the Battle­: Action & Consequence

Click here for All Posted Chapters

Summary: Steve hits things with a bat or gets hit depending on who you ask. He definitely does not have anything to do with the psychic stuff. That is El’s domain. However, as Vecna is defeated, the rules change.

Pairing: steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Other Relationships: Steve & Robin, Steve & Dustin, Eddie & Dustin

Rating: Teen

A/N: Multi-chapter story, updated regularly. Honestly not sure how many chapters it will have yet because it's still a bit hand wavy in the middle, but definitely more than 12. Thank you to my beta for find my mistakes and to all those who read/like/reblog.💖 Follow #st:beyond-the-battle for updates.

Also on AO3

Chapter 22. An Ordinary Morning?

Max had given him a smile and a wave as he and El were ushered out of the hospital room. The doctors had been discussing removing one of Max’s casts so they could x-ray her arm to see if splints were necessary anymore. It wasn’t as if he could just step in and tell them anything, so he just hoped they didn’t keep her waiting too long. Max was likely to find some power tools and do it herself if the professionals took too much time.

Joyce had also invited him back to the Hopper/Byers residence for a large breakfast, but he had politely declined. He was flying high and he was kind of hoping that maybe Eddie would be interested in celebrating his success. He’d vaguely planned on food in there somewhere as well, but he’d taken one of his shakes with him and hadn’t needed to use anywhere near the energy he had the previous day, so that was secondary on his agenda.

“Thanks, Joyce,” he said as she pulled up in front of his house. “See you later, El.”

“Bye, Steve,” El replied with a big smile.

“Make sure to eat something,” Joyce told him in her motherly tone.

“First thing on the list,” he fibbed with a smile of his own.

He gave them a wave as he let himself in, kicking his shoes off and heading for the kitchen, hoping to find Eddie where he had left him a couple of hours previously. Who he actually found was Wayne, sitting at the table reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, Mr … Wayne,” he greeted, correcting himself at the last second.

“Mornin’,” Wayne replied, taking a sip from a mug Steve was sure did not come from his house.

“Find everything you need?” he asked, placing his backpack on one of the chairs, and taking out the sports bottle from inside.

Moving over to the sink, he turned on the tap so he could wash it out.

“Eddie showed me,” Wayne replied. “Nice kitchen you have here.”

“Both my grandmas are big on food,” Steve explained as he used a little dish soap on his bottle. “My mom likes to cook too, she just doesn’t get much time these days. I guess I inherited the gene too, so the kitchen gets a lot of use.”

Wayne made a humming sound.

“Eddie not around?” Steve asked as he walked over to where the coffee pot was three-quarters full.

“Went a bit of a funny colour and said he needed to lie down,” Wayne replied. “Told me not to worry, it was just an after effect of something that happened that he couldn’t talk about, an’ the doctors had given him a clean bill of health. That true?”

Steve did his very best not to let his instant worry show, grabbing himself a mug and filling it from the coffee pot before turning round.

“If it’s what I think it is, then yes,” he replied, hoping that he was pulling off nonchalant. “But I’m guessing that isn’t going to stop either of us worrying anyway.”

“Yep,” Wayne said.

Steve took a sip of the coffee and was thrown out of his worry by the shock of the taste.

“Did you change out the coffee?” he asked, taking another sip. “God this is good.”

“Nope,” Wayne said, “just did what I always do.”

“Then I think you worked a miracle,” he decided. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on Eddie.”

“Be seein’ ya,” Wayne replied, going back to his paper.

Taking his coffee, Steve walked out of the room trying to look as if he was in no hurry. Once he was through the door, he sped up. He left the coffee on the table on the landing at the top of the stairs and hurried into his bedroom.

“Eddie?” he said when he found his boyfriend sitting on the bed, knees pulled up and head down.

As Eddie lifted his head, dark, almost black eyes met his own. He shut the door behind him.

“Thirsty again?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure of the answer.

“Like a man in a desert,” Eddie replied. “I was about to cook Wayne some breakfast and it just hit.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said, walking across and sitting down close to Eddie.

“Max all okay?” Eddie asked.

“Fit as a fiddle and ready to chew off her casts,” he replied with a smile. “I think if El wanted to take over the world we’d all be in trouble because she does innocent amazingly well. Owens bought the story hook line and sinker. He has people dealing with everything to get Max sorted as soon as possible, but it’s probably going to take a couple of days because they have to do tests to confirm what we already know.”

“How are you feeling?” was Eddie’s next question.

“Really good, honestly,” he said. “I was hungry again after, but my shake sorted that out and it didn’t take even half as much energy as before. It felt easier too, like doing something I’d already practiced.”

“Maybe you learn people,” Eddie suggested.

“Maybe,” he agreed with a small shrug. “So, shall we get you sorted?”

Eddie gave him an unimpressed look.

“Steve,” Eddie said, “it may not have been as hard as yesterday, but you healed Max this morning. I don’t think donating blood is a good idea.”

“Honestly, I’m good,” he promised. “Not that I don’t intend to go downstairs and eat a whole second breakfast as soon as we’re done. But I refuse to leave you up here suffering.”

“I’m not suffering, I’m just really, really thirsty,” Eddie protested.

“Tell me it’s not driving you crazy,” he countered.

Eddie didn’t say anything.

“Look, I know what thirst is like,” he decided to come clean. “When we were in the Upside Down, after those damn bats got me, I was so thirsty when we got back right side up, I wanted to stick my head under a faucet. And after the Russians, oh god, whatever they pumped into me and Robin, it made my mouth like the Sahara. We almost fought over the water fountain, which was funny, because two teenagers in sailor outfits stoned out of their brains fighting over a source of water, but so frustrating. And I’m pretty sure those two experiences are just a reflection of what you’re feeling right now. So, please let me help.”

Eddie still didn’t say anything.

“I don’t want to put you through that again,” Eddie finally admitted, voice so small Steve could barely hear him. “I hurt you.”

Reaching out, Steve took his boyfriend’s hand.

“Okay, confession time,” he said. “I wasn’t kidding about the kink stuff. When you bit me last time, I liked it, I really, really liked it, if you get my drift. And I think if you hadn’t been so overwhelmed by the whole thing, you probably would have noticed how much I liked it so quickly.”

He was pretty sure he was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush by the time he finished speaking.

“You liked the pain?” Eddie asked, eyes wide.

“Not specifically,” he admitted. “The pain was pretty irrelevant actually, but you sucking on my wrist. that was definitely, very much not irrelevant. If you’d kept going, I probably would have embarrassed myself.”

He did not want Eddie getting the wrong impression, so he spoke very plainly.

“Really?” Eddie asked, because tact was not always one of his finer points.

“Yes, absolutely yes,” he replied. “And at some point, I’d really like to explore that further, but your uncle’s currently downstairs, so please can we postpone that?”

“Wayne’s half deaf from working with heavy machinery his whole life,” Eddie said, and Steve could have sworn his eyes sparkled.

“Still seems rude to leave…”

Steve shut up when Eddie’s lips covered his own. He was only human, and Eddie kissed like a drowning man in search of oxygen. Who was he to argue.

“Please let me make you feel as good as you make me,” Eddie whispered against his mouth.

He moaned as Eddie climbed into his lap.

“You’re incorrigible,” was the best he could do as a comeback.

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asked, kissing along his jaw and down his neck.

“It’s your fault if I can’t look your uncle in the eye ever again,” he replied, well aware he had already lost this round, “but yes.”

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asked, running one hand down his front between them with very obvious intent.

“God yes,” Steve said, already hardening in his jeans at Eddie’s actions.

So much for sensible conversations. Steve rested one hand on Eddie’s waist and used one to prop himself up on the bed. At which point, Eddie made very short work of getting into his pants.

“Holy fuck,” Steve whined as Eddie’s hand slipped into his boxers.

“Let me know when you’re gonna go,” Eddie said, leaning back and looking at him, eyes dark and red-ringed, and fangs showing in his pleased grin.

Steve had no idea what Eddie had in mind, but he could follow instructions. He was going to warn Eddie it was unlikely to take long, but Eddie moved his hand in such a way he forgot how to speak for a couple of seconds. He hadn’t been touched by anyone else in a while now, most of his recent dates having been abandoned long before anything hotter than kissing, and then the apocalypse making survival the only thing on his mind. He was sensitive and responsive, and that it was Eddie’s hand on him was making it that much more.

Biting his lip and counting backwards from one hundred were the only things between him and this being over embarrassingly quickly.

When Eddie started nibbling on his neck, teasing him with blunt incisors and licking over the same spot, he almost lost it straight away.

“Now,” he managed to stutter out before his body completely betrayed him.

As his orgasm hit, Eddie bit and everything whited out. The pain wasn’t irrelevant this time as it joined with the overloading nerve impulses running through his body and he gasped, barely able to breathe. He had never in his life felt anything like it and it went on and on and on as Eddie sucked on his neck. Never had he imagined anything could feel this good.

Thought vanished from his head as all he could do was feel.

When Eddie pulled back, instincts fired and the soreness on the side of his neck disappeared without him consciously thinking about it. Which was a good thing, because sensible brain function was still beyond him.

“Wow,” Eddie said, and Steve opened his eyes to find his boyfriend staring at his neck.

“Yeah,” he agreed, as he scraped together the few braincells he had not just completely blown.

There was blood on Eddie’s lips and chin, and his pupils were blown wide and dark, and Steve thought he had never seen anything more inviting.

“Come here,” he said, bringing both his hands to either side of Eddie’s face.

He didn’t care that he was tasting his own blood as he claimed Eddie’s mouth with his. They began to fall towards the bed because he was no longer bracing them, but he kept on kissing. He never wanted to stop.

Ten minutes later he was reluctantly back downstairs, all cleaned up, making excuses and doing his very best not to look Wayne Munson in the face. He wasn’t sure how well he was pulling it off.

~*~

Steve was expecting a phone call for arrangements for later in the day when he had agreed with El he would do some more experimenting with her and Will. What he was not expecting was for Hopper to arrive in what looked like a new truck, with El and Will in tow.

“Hi,” he said, opening the door.

“Our house smells funny,” El said as she walked in. “Hello, Steve.”

She gave him a quick hug.

“Argyle accidentally smoked in the house,” Will offered the explanation. “Is it alright if we practice here?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, “come on in. We’ll just have to be careful once Wayne gets up though. He’s sleeping at the moment.”

“Hey Supergirl, Will the Wise, Chief,” Eddie greeted from behind him.

“Still not the chief of police anymore,” Hopper said, entering with a plain brown box in his hands.

“Looks like you have a nice new truck though,” Steve said as he closed the door.

“It’s a bribe,” Hopper said with a grin.

“For what?” Eddie asked before Steve got there.

“Owens offered me a job as head of security at the lab,” Hopper replied. “I told him I’d think about it and he gave me the truck to sweeten the deal.”

“They’re going to keep the lab open then?” Steve asked following everyone into the main living area.

“The way Owens tells it, it’s too risky not to, what with the Russians knowing about the Upside Down,” Hopper explained. “It’s going to be a monitoring station.”

“So, no more experiments on kids?” Eddie said.

“Only me,” El replied. “I wish to understand more about my powers.”

“Okay,” Steve said, because he really hadn’t expected El to sound so happy about something like that. “So, you’ll be taking the job then?” he added, looking at Hopper.

“Oh yeah,” the ex-Chief replied with a grin. “No way my daughter is going in there without me watching every damn thing they’re doing.”

That did go some way to explaining why El seemed perfectly happy with the idea.

“Just don’t want Owens taking me for granted, so I’ll keep him on the hook for a while,” Hopper added. “Munson, this belongs to you,” the man went on, placing the box on the coffee table.

“It does?” Eddie said, stepping past Steve.

“Picked it up from Powell this morning,” was the short explanation.

“My books?” Eddie asked, eyes lighting up with hope.

“Take a look,” Hopper said, looking very pleased with himself.

Eddie flipped the lid off the box like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Hell yes,” he said, joyfully, “come to me my pretties.”

Several Dungeons and Dragons manuals came out of the box first, being placed reverently on the table, before Eddie paused. Steve watched, fascinated as Eddie pulled out a dark blue, spiral bound notebook, treating it as if it was the holy grail. He even lifted it up and kissed it, before pulling it to his chest and wrapping both his arms around it. That was when Steve caught sight of the hand-drawn Hellfire logo on the front.

“Thank you, Chief,” Eddie said without a flicker of playfulness in his tone. “You don’t know what these mean to me.”

“I think I can see, Kid,” Hopper said in a surprisingly fatherly tone.

Steve really wanted to wrap his arms around Eddie but had to suffice with smiling and putting a hand on his shoulder instead.

“I need to plan a new campaign,” Eddie decided with an overexcited gleam in his eyes. “A campaign to end all campaigns in honour of our triumph.”

“Awesome,” was Will’s reaction to the announcement.

“Dining room table is all yours for planning and playing, if you want it,” Steve offered. “I would offer to steal your DM throne from the school, but that might be a bit obvious.”

“How do you know about my throne?” Eddie asked.

“Dustin never shut up about it,” Steve replied with a grin. “Do you know how many coolness points a throne gets you with Henderson.”

Eddie’s grin at that was utterly infectious. Steve had to sit on his desire to kiss it off his boyfriend’s face.

“Right, well that’s my delivery job done,” Hopper said before Steve could make an idiot out of himself. “Give me a call when you want rid of these two terrors, and I’ll swing by to pick them up.”

“Dad,” El protested as being called a terror, whereas Will just laughed.

“I can drop them back,” Steve immediately offered.

“After what they’ve been planning, I think I’d rather you didn’t get behind the wheel,” Hopper replied, heading back for the door. “Good luck with them.”

Steve was suddenly nervous at the look of glee in El and Will’s eyes.

End of Chapter 22

Chapter 23

[deadpoetinautumn]

Steve Harrington and his god-awful music

Steve Harrington has been moping about for two weeks now. Nancy Wheeler chose Jonathan Byers over him for the second time in his life - the first being in 1984 and somehow just as crushing. I’ve been there for both, regrettably. I was there when he whimpered in his sleep and wept on his pillow. I was there when he ‘got back on the scene’ again after it all, like bambi on ice. I was there when he whined on about Robin Buckley being ‘the one’ until she wasn’t any longer. Most irritatingly though, I have been there through every use of his utterly horrific heartbreak mixtape.

‘Say it isn’t so’, ‘Where do broken hearts go?’, ‘(I just) Died in your arms’, ‘why’

The list goes on and on. It’s the most vicious form of torture because there is nothing I can do about it. I’ve tried putting him onto The Smiths, The Cure, god only knows I’ve tried. It’s no use. He’s unmovable every time. And this time is no different.

Steve is on my bed on his back, legs hanging off the edge and into oblivion. His Walkman is on, and by no means quiet. I can hear it through the headphones. I’m at my desk trying, and failing to work. The playlist is on its fourth loop. I’m getting restless. I swivel round in my seat with one sharp movement. He does not budge.

“You said you were over Nancy three weeks ago. What’s changed?” My voice is more bitter and clipped than I intended it to be. As expected there’s nothing but a shrug. His gaze remains fixed on my textured bedroom ceiling. His eyes are unblinking.

This is killing me. I think, snatching up the little stack of matches and lucky strikes in my inkwell and heading for the open window.

***

It’s been a month since the Nancy incident and Harrington is talking again. I’ll never say it out loud but god is it nice to see that grin again. Robin Buckley ruins it, as per, by greeting us with a “How are you lovebirds doing?” And a sly grin, to which Steve screws up his nose. “Gross, Robin, seriously.” I wince.

He’s still got the odd quiet moment; He’ll he spaced out and when I hit him with a “Hey, Steve-o, what-cha thinkin’?” He looks at me, purses his lips into some semblance of what’s supposed to be a reassuring smile, shakes his head and says “It’s nothing.”

Steve didn’t used to “it’s nothing.” Steve used to be a total dick. And I was friends with him anyway because he was all I had. It started out that I was his tutor for English, which he always found funny because I actually am British. He’d ask me when I came to America every week. The same question. It wasn’t to be funny, or clever or even mean. It was because he genuinely couldn’t remember. He’d ask me things about myself and would’ve forgotten by the next week. That was end of middle school, start of high school so I don’t blame him. Prime ‘King Steve’ era, he had lots to be thinking about. And I was nobody.

But he still came round to my house every week. He brought my Mother flowers on her birthday and he “Heya Buddy”-ed my little brother when he came in to see what we were doing. And he got a B plus in that class at the end of semester which was, lightly put, an absolute miracle. And so he kept seeing me. All through high school. All through the girlfriends and the basketball tournaments and the pep rallies. He somehow kept up his real American high school experience and me. At the same time. I guess that’s why I was so fond of Steve “the hair” Harrington before he became the babysitter. He never did give me much, but it was always just enough.

And now look at us. Here we are, Nineteen years old and openly best friends. We’re at somebody’s College Party. (I do the classes, Steve does the parties.) There are benches in the Frat house garden and Steve is lying across one, semi passed out, hand drooped and withered on his wrist like a dried rose on its stalk. His favourite song is playing on stereo inside, ‘Object of my Desire’ by Starpoint. Total shit. Completely typical that he’s missing it. He’s utterly plastered. I’m sitting on the floor facing him, smoking, stone-cold sober. I’ve never been one for partying. Steve likes to tease me for it, calls me Grandma. I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s because my Dad is an alcoholic. He’d only feel needlessly bad, I don’t want that.

I look at the way the light from inside falls on his face, casting its deep amber glow across his features. I look at the outline of his nose, and the way his eyelashes graze the skin on his cheek. I look at the way his lips part and the way the moles on his face are dotted like sparse freckles. I watch the way his brow creases like he’s having a nightmare; it makes him look troubled. I reach out my hand to soothe him, to smooth the gathered skin there.

All of a sudden he stirs, mumbling, groaning. I jump back, retracting my hand like lightning. He murmurs my name as he settles back into slumber and it sounds like honey on his lips. That is, before he lets out the most unholy snore I’ve ever heard in my life, at which I giggle like a little girl, and slump back against the plant pot at my spine as the song changes into something marginally more acceptable.

***

It’s the beginning of winter now, my birthday was weeks ago. Steve takes me skating on Lover’s Lake. I try not to think anything of the name. It’s just a coincidence. He plays Daryl Hall and John Oates all the way there in the car. It’s unbearable, I almost ask him to turn it off. That is before he starts singing along, and I erupt in laughter. We’re still laughing when we get out of the car at the lake. Once my skates are on I look to him. He’s standing and ready to go, but skateless.

“Aren’t you putting your skates on?” I ask him, tilting my head to the side.

He smiles, looking serene. “I thought it would be sensible to watch you, make sure you don’t drown.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You are a liability you know.” He’s joking but I can sense the anxiety in his voice. I’ve known him too long for him to be able to hide it. I reach out for him, letting my touch rest gently on his arm. He shivers with what’s presumably the cold.

“Steve, look at me.”

There’s a second before he looks.

“It’s done. He’s gone. It’s over.”

“I know.” He replies. I can tell he’s disregarding everything I say, so I huff and skate off with one languid movement. I can hear him pottering after me.

We skate for a while, the cold nipping at our cheeks. His go apple-shaped and rosy, his eyes glassy and wide. It makes me grin. He grins back. I love seeing him happy again.

Quite suddenly I give a start, my eyes widening as I’m propelled backwards and down, tumbling, falling. Steve goes white and lets out a yelp, reaching for me. He catches me by the shoulders just as I hit the Ice, pulling me to him so forcefully my back nearly snaps in two.

“Jesus, woah woah Steve.” I exclaim, waving my arms. “It’s okay, it’s alright, I just fell.” I’m reaching for him. My arms hook themselves around his neck. I can feel how erratically he’s breathing. He lets out a whimper and scoops me up like I’m dying, clinging onto me. I go to run my hands through his hair to soothe him and he doesn’t even swat me off, that’s how distressed he is. He practically drags me across the ice and manhandles me back to the car. Neither of us say a word as he drives me home.

***

It’s the New Year now, 1987. Steve’s music taste hasn’t improved with age. Neither has the fact that I’m, begrudgingly, in love with him. He appears at my door first thing in the morning on New Year’s Day looking distinctly rough with a lump of coal in hand. Morrissey’s new-ish single is playing on my record player. I pretend not to notice as he screws up his nose at it.

“I’ve come to be your foot first.” He says with what I presume is supposed to be a dashing grin.

“My first foot.” I correct him.

“Yeah your foot first, whatever.” He barges his way past me into my apartment. When he’s in my bedroom he turns to me and wiggles his eyebrows.

“You have now officially got good luck for the rest of the year.”

“Let’s bloody hope so.” I murmur under my breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

***

We’re in the supermarket and I’m gathering up the courage to tell him. One of his songs are playing on the loudspeakers, I don’t know which one it is. I don’t care either. My hands are sweating. I’m going to say it. Here goes nothing. I open my mouth. And then Robin appears like a phantom apparition from nowhere with her supermarket uniform on. Shit.

“Evening lovebirds.” She grins. He sighs, and my heart gives a hopeful leap when he doesn’t berate her, only tiredly asks her where the maple syrup is. I pretend not to notice the excited wink Robin shoots him, or the smug look on her face that says ‘I knew he’d come around’. But he hasn’t come around. Not yet anyway.

***

Steve drives me home, changing the cassette in his car before opening the doors and getting out with me. It’s raining like a fucking monsoon. We make a mad dash to the porch together, jackets over heads, laughing, pushing, splashing. Until we’re in the dry. We’re breathing hard, ghosts of laughs still etched somewhere on our features, but falling fast. Steve looks at the ground and chuckles nervously. I watch a raindrop caress the straight line of his nose and fall onto his bottom lip. My thumb twitches at my side.

“Did I ever tell you about that time Nancy got stuck in a thunderstorm with a pink dress on?” He chuckles again. Something within me falls and shatters. I’m rifling through my head to find the ability within myself to act nonchalant. I manage a tight smile, but Steve seems to notice he’s said something wrong before he even has to read my expression.

“I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine.” I move to open the door.

“No wait, I’m sorry, let me just-“ he’s moving after me. I wish he’d go away. I’m trying desperately to get away from him before I start crying.

He takes a gentle hold of my upper arm, and mutters my name, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth once, softly, in apology.

I’m turning slowly, tearful. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t pretend.

He looks at me and sighs, wiping one tear away with his thumb and then leaning in to kiss away the other. I’m a bit startled by this, confused. Even more baffled when I realise he’s sliding his hands up both of my arms and cradling me against his chest, hands holding my head to him.

“Why is it so easy for you to believe I’m in love with anyone else but you?” He asks me with a sigh.

I sniffle. “What?”

He sighs again, deeply, and pulls away, hands on either side of my face.

“What are we gonna do with you.” He smiles at my expression.

“Steve-“

He hushes me easily. Kisses my forehead, the bridge of my nose, the tip, and finally his lips fold against mine. They dance around one another until we’re comfortable enough for them to just meet.

“I love you and your shitty songs.” He murmurs against them.

I just laugh and look up at Steve Harrington, because I have never been so in love with anyone in my life, let alone someone with such blatantly awful taste in music.

[saltypiratepunk]

Btw, am I the only one who noticed Hopper-Byers family being someone's miracle parallel?

I mean, first Joyce, saving Hopper and not a minute before Enzo indirectly calling her Jim's miracle

Then it was Hop's turn to be a miracle(sort of, Murray also was involved, but he's kinda part of the family at this point), when Steve, Robin and Nancy were magically freed from those vines, as soon as they restored their breaths Robin says she never believed in God or smth, but adds that it was a real miracle.

Moreover, El technically brought back Max from the dead, afterwards near the end of ep 9 when almost all the gang were at the hospital visiting Max, Lucas says that she was dead for some time and then she came back. After adding that it was a miracle, thus, again indirectly, calling El a miracle.

I don't know, maybe I'm digging too deep here, but these parallels felt kinda intentional. Anyway, would love to see gifs of them. Although, I would like also to see the same parallel in the show with Jonathan and Will, especially Will. My boy is a miracle and deserves to have anything he wants. Duffers, just let him be happy for fuck's sake.

[claryxjackson]

wait now I wanna know about your stranger things ocs. what are they up to in season four? what are interesting facts about them? important details from their backstories? give me the goods rn 🤺

love you for this <3

okay so my stranger things ocs can all kind of trace back to this one family; the Lansings.

also, pinterest boards for vibes

Jack Lansing

backstory: Jack and his wife Gen have a daughter, but she went missing when she was four which for context is, ~5 years before season one takes place. He moved out of Hawkins around a year after she disappeared and, while still legally married to Gen, they might as well be divorced.

as of season one Jack is- back in Hawkins, serving as a police deputy. and lo and behold. Will Byers goes missing and boy does it send good old Jack on a spiral, and right back to Gen.

as of season four, honestly that man is doing the best he ever has, but more on that later.

a fun fact about Jack is that he- by some miracle, never really loses patience with the kids throughout the seasons, and it makes him a very good counterpart for wildly impatient Hopper whenever they need help

next up we have, Genevieve Hopper, who was, for a time, Gen Lansing.

she's Hopper's younger sister, and she used to work at Hawkins Lab. She has since been unemployed.

oh Gen- Gen has not been good since her daughter disappeared. she has in fact been, very bad. like commonly known town weirdo levels of bad. People think she's weirder than Joyce in season one. It's been a bad five years for poor Gen, but she's gotten a job as a Hawkins High science teacher since losing her job at Hawkins Lab.

she likes the job a lot right up until her estranged husband's sister ends up failing her class

as of season one Gen is- reeling from Will's disappearance, though her attention to his disappearance drops almost completely when her brother lets slip that they think a kid escaped from the Lab

if he weren't only targeting teenagers, Gen would be a prime target for Vecna. the woman is drowning in guilt.

and i know this sounds like- not much but i promise it's building up to something

okay so, next we have Nineteen.

she escaped from Hawkins Lab with Eleven, but separated herself from her- pretty quickly because she- truthfully didn't get along with her very well when they were in the lab.

she's around ten years old. this girl is going Through It.

also, Tina has- very few early memories of being at the Lab, but neither does El so she figures it's- normal

okay so she's kinda boring in season one. Jack's sister April found her wandering in the woods and literally just- befriended this strange woodland child as if she were a fairy or something.

gave her food, clothes, talked to her, though Nineteen never talked back.

by season four, she's thriving. She's living with Jack and Gen. April has given her the nickname Tina, and pretty much everybody just assumes that's her name anyway. She's enrolled in Hawkins Middle. Vecna isn't targeting her because she didn't totally fuck him up and lock him in the Upside Down like El. However, she still does have her powers so she's, still a part of the whole mess, just not in the same way El is.

lastly in this whole family mess is April Lansing.

she's Jack's younger sister, and she moved with him when he left Hawkins (she was 11) because their parents were dead and she- didn't want to stay with her grandparents. Besides, Jack knew well enough how to raise a kid, and he, didn't mind.

she's- none too thrilled about their move back to Hawkins as she is very much a city girl at this point, she's dreading going to a small town.

they live out by Lover's Lake, so she just, decides to spend all her time in the woods to kill time, which is how she meets Tina. and in season four it's why she ends up just- chilling with suspected killer Eddie Munson.

ngl she might be a love interest for Eddie idk yet

but in the midst of her struggling to adjust to living in Hawkins- Teddy Wheeler pops up.

Teddy was her- best friend when she was like 10. and he figures he might as well help her get used to the town. April is not having it, and aggressively ignores him.

by season four she's: joined the Hellfire Club and- girl's gonna get Vecna'd so- prepare for that.

and i don't have much for Teddy. boy is more of a secondary character tbh

[ryuzakemo128]

Cosmic - A Stranger Things Fanfic

Chapter One

Author's Note: A long one, don't expect more than a single chapter every three or four days. No pairings until I watch season four.

Headcanons for Marianna: HERE

Masterlist: Here

Chapter Master List: Link

1979

Her parents died shortly after midnight on Thursday. When they got home from their "date night," Marianna, the child of the deceased parents, was intact, in her chair, and the reporters proclaimed that it was a miracle that she survived without being injured. I am sure that if her parents had been that fortunate, she would not have ended up in an orphanage. Depending on the circumstances, it might have been a drunk driver or it might not have been. The details of her case have been a topic of speculation for years among the people around her. As a twelve-year-old girl, she was mourning the loss of her parents on the day of their funeral, when they died.

It took them a year after her adoption for them to be able to see her for the first time. A lot of reasons could be cited as to why it would be better if they did not adopt her and then kill her afterwards. The fact that she did not adapt well to large crowds was one of the reasons that she avoided them whenever possible. The first kickboxing class she attended after school was when she met Galina. After a fight, they became fast friends.

Marianna and Galina were both bullied during this time. While she doesn't mind them talking behind her back. It bothers Galina, as she doesn't like anyone talking about her behind her back. She doesn't allow it and she often says "If you think that about her and you're telling me that you think that way, the most effective way for you to solve that is to just tell her."

But they'd never really listened to her, never really paid any attention to the things she said. This was because they were too intimidated by her to actually sit down and try talking to her. The only thing they ever saw was a strong and brave 12-year-old girl who moved from Russia to America. Which became the main thing they targeted her for. Her Russian heritage and her Russian accent. People looked at her as if she were some tiny Russian spy. No matter how many times she said she wasn't one, they never believed her.

"I suppose this is how things are now." Marianna said to Galina with a sigh.

"No, it's not always going to be this awful. I know that for a fact that it'll never be this way again." Galina promised.

"If you say so, I'm not holding my breath and I certainly hope you start making sense sooner or later. Otherwise someone could kick it at you. More powerful than any punch I've thrown at you." 

"It might also be a smart idea to lighten up a bit as well, you know. Nothing is all doom and gloom like Russia."

"I'll have to hold you to that Galina. Otherwise we're going to have to stop hanging out so much."

1983

Marianna pulled up in her black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Just another day in Hawkins, the same people ogling her precious yet extremely expensive car. Normally she would have chosen another car, but it used to belong to her father. She didn't have the willpower to get rid of it. Most of the students attending the school didn't concern her; she didn't even care to know most of them. Galina did most of the talking between the two of them. She knew what to say anyway so why bother putting more effort into speaking to them? 

Initially, it was the effort put into finding Will Byers that caught her eye, and she volunteered to help find him despite the protests of her friends. Elliot, one of the sons of her parents, and his boyfriend helped her by keeping her company in the woods until it was late. She didn't care if she got hurt, she cared about the fact that some poor child is lost, alone and afraid somewhere.

"Can we get you home in one piece please?" Duncan yelled out.

"Maybe, just maybe", Elliot responded.

"Get back to the car, my dudes, I'll be right there in five or ten minutes," Marianna yelled out to them before hearing a growl a few meters away from her. Then she said, "you know what, nevermind let's just leave now." She sprinted to her car, feeling as if she slowed down something would have eaten her alive.

"I'm dropping you off at home, then I might go back, I might, but if I am, you're returning home first. I'm not getting grounded because you decided to get eaten." She stated getting into her car.

"You should have thought of that before,"

"Well I wasn't thinking before, but I certainly am now," she pointed out starting the car.

"Like the time you jumped and got yourself impaled on the fence?" Elliot pointed out remembering each time she bad a bad decision. Which in turn got herself hurt in one way or another.

"I trusted that my friend would have told me about the ginat spikes. Unfortunately no, she didn't tell me and there, I got impaled by a piece of metal."

"And the time you fell out of a tree?"

"Again not my fault,"

"What about the fact that a door slammed meters away and you still got scared?"

"Fear is a natural human emotion."

"When it's rational,"

"Listen, doors shouldn't open and close by themselves. It's a natural response to have to that kind of thing,"

"You have seen so many horror movies. How are you still scared at this point?"

"Watching scary movies and enjoying them is one thing. Being there when something spooky happens in real life is something else entirely." She explained to them.

"Let's stop arguing about this, this is getting to a place that's really uncomfortable for me. Really fast." Duncan states stopping the argument there.

"Go, shoo," She responded waving her arm at the front door of Duncan's place, "You two kids stay there,"

Marianna went back to her house to get her katana from her wall in the living room and headed back to the forest. She didn't want to be defenseless if something were to attack her.

She saw not one, not two but three young boys looking for their friends. Squinting through the glare of the flashlight.

"Why aren't they home? Their parents wouldn't want them out here," she thought to herself as she approached them. She turned off her flashlight in case she heard that creature again. She got closer just to get a clear look at three small monsters that are children, before asking, "what on earth are you doing out this late?"

"What are you doing out this late?" Mike snapped at her.

"Looking for the-"

"What's that?" Dustin asked pointing towards the katana in her hand.

"It's a Japanese sword. It's also something to keep me safe. You three on the other hand should have known better. What if one of you lil dudes disappears?"

"I am not your little dude, stop calling me that."

"As a figure of speech, you are like a duckling. You're most likely to get yourself hurt. Trust me, I know for a fact you will." A long awkward silence washed over for what felt like an hour. "Well, looks like we're stuck with each other. Besides, I heard some weird shit earlier. Let's not dawdle."

[mlmxreader]

Distraction | John Fitzgerald Byers x gn!reader

request: Yes once again asking for Byers... I'm...yeah...

Byers with the prompt "Look at that brilliant smile"

Thank you 💙

summary: living with the Gunmen has its perks... especially because you can distract your boyfriend.

warnings: swearing

You stretched as the sound of Frohike chastising Jimmy filtered through the cramped office, and despite knowing it would be cold and empty, you reached out to the other side of the bed; it was cold, but you knew that your boyfriend was still around. The tapping of a computer keyboard from his side of the office made you grumble as you dared to sit up, grabbing the dressing gown he always left out for you, knowing that you would steal it anyway but wanting to make it easier for you. It was still warm from the dryer where he had washed it long before you stirred; Byers had a habit of getting up earlier than anyone else.

But then, you exited the section that was closed off and called a bedroom, and you went up to Frohike, leaning against Jimmy as you raised a brow.

"Coffee filters in the printer again?" You guessed.

Frohike showed you the evidence, which made you stifle a laugh. "That's twice this week!"

"Relax," you yawned, shaking your head. "I'm sure Scully or Mulder can steal one from HQ if you're really that worried about the printer."

Frohike shook his head, waving you and Jimmy away, but while Jimmy went to go watch the television, you found yourself at Byers' desk, sitting on the empty spot he always left for you, making sure that there weren't any papers there, and he smiled up at you.

"Good morning," he sounded chipper. "How did you sleep?"

You shrugged, looking at his screen for a moment and starting to read what he had already drafted up. "Pretty good... this about the San Francisco garter snakes?"

"Uh, yeah," he nodded. "You don't... you don't think it's good?"

"Oh, it's good," you reassured with a shake of your head. "Reminds me of the bear, though."

"It, it does?" He questioned, a slight frown on his pretty lips.

You nodded. "Yeah, except this time there wasn't a knife to your face."

Byers sighed, running a hand through his hair as he kept your gaze, leaning back in his seat a little. "I had to do something."

"I know," you hummed. "But... even I gotta admit, it was pretty hot how you stared that poacher down."

His features flushed with pink as he cleared his throat and tried to adjust his perfectly set tie. "Y-you think so?"

You came to stand behind him, letting your hands drift to his chest as you leaned down, your lips against his ear. "It was hot as fuck, Byers, give yourself some credit."

Closing his eyes, Byers swallowed thickly, daring to grab one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours almost by nothing but instinct. "Thanks..."

When you caught his smile, you used your free hand to gently trace his jaw, chuckling softly. "Look at that brilliant smile... absolutely gorgeous."

Byers knew that he needed to get the article done, he needed to write what he had, but with you providing such a wonderful distraction, he knew that he needed a miracle; although, if he was honest, he wouldn't have asked for one.

[stevie-wicks]

baby, it’s cold outside

cw: infidelity, cannibalism (this is up for debate)

The snow in the driveway comes up to Steve’s calves. Enough of it to build a snowman as big as the house. Stick a candy-cane North Pole sign on it and you wouldn’t know the difference.

The point is, it’s fucking cold. And Nancy’s watching from the window, waiting for Steve to get a move on.

Hope Byers brings a snowplow, Steve thinks grimly, trudging into the darkness. Hope he’s bundled up in enough layers before he comes to fuck my wife.

(ao3 link)

Maybe Karen’s in on it, too. Maybe she’ll ask Steve to stay a little longer. Long enough for pillow talk, for Jonathan to kiss Nancy goodbye; sweet farewells like they’re in fucking Romeo and Juliet. “Have a cookie, Steve; they’re fresh from the oven!” Karen in a fancy dress, a smile just like her daughter’s. “Some eggnog while you wait for Johnny-boy to pull out!”

He doubts the prescription is real, anyway. It’s the first he’s ever hearing of Nancy’s insomnia; she’s usually out like a light by the time Steve goes to bed, and the only thing in their room that hasn’t been there before is another man’s condom. It’s probably a couple of Tic-Tac in a bottle, prescribed in Nancy’s own handwriting. Maybe it’s peppermint-flavored. A little festive cheer he can’t find in his own goddamn home.

It’s so fucking cold. At least the snow has stopped, so. Small miracles.

Loch Nora is a good ways from Karen’s. Halfway there, Steve considers sinking face-first into the snow. Let the flurries seal his tomb. They’ll dig him out come spring. Hope the hairdo is cryopreserved.

Maybe Nancy will cry at his funeral. And then she’ll let Jonathan fuck her on his grave. Here lies Steve Harrington, beloved cuck.

A misshapen snowman leers at him from Karen’s front yard. Stone-cold eyes watch him scramble up the front steps.

It isn’t Nancy’s mother who opens the door.

“Hey.” The man grins. Drags heavy blue eyes along the length of Steve’s body. He leans against the doorway as he drawls, “Looks like Santa dropped my present off earlier than I expected.”

It shouldn’t work. Still makes Steve blush, even though it’s minus bumhole degrees outside. “Uh, hi. Is- is Karen here?”

“Aw, shucks, pretty boy.” There’s that smile again- lazy and gorgeous. Steve bets he’s gotten a lot of things done with that smile. “I could show you a better time.”

No doubt, no doubt. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to decline.”

The guy winks. Sleazy on anybody else. He pulls it off. “You’ll come around.”

No doubt, no doubt. “Could you get her for me?”

“She went out.” A wicked tongue runs over almost razor-sharp teeth. “You’re welcome to wait inside, though.”

Steve has to admit, it’s a stroke of brilliance on Nancy’s part. “Ask Mom, she’s the one who knows where they are.” Make sure Karen’s gone out, so Steve has to wait. And if the cold gets to Steve before the arsenic does, all the better.

“So, you’re the new beau?” Steve wonders what this guy’s sob story is. Keith’s had been burnout after flunking out of college; Tommy’s girlfriend didn’t slap him around like he’d wanted her to. “Didn’t catch your name.”

Another razor-sharp grin. Jesus. “Billy.”

“Just Billy?”

“Just Billy.”

Daddy issues it is. “Nice to meet you, Billy; I’m Steve.”

“Just Steve?” the guy, Billy, Karen’s newest boy toy, teases.

“Harrington.”

“Ex?”

“I’m screwing her daughter.”

Incredulity looks good on Billy. “Clearly.”

“She sent me here to get her medication.” Steve doesn’t know what he’s trying to prove. If history means anything, Billy will be packing his bags before New Year’s. “Can’t fall asleep without it. Insomnia.”

“A good dicking usually does the trick.” It’s hard to tell if Billy’s taunting or flirting. Maybe a little bit of both. Maybe neither. Maybe Steve passed out in a snowbank and his subconscious is fucking with him.

“Know that from experience?” Steve musters up. A lukewarm retort. Staler than his and Nancy’s relationship has been since high school.

Billy grins. There it is again, that wicked tongue. Steve’s been celibate for far too long. “You look like you could use a good night’s sleep, pretty boy.”

It’s a come-on if he’s ever heard one. Steve refuses to rise to the bait.

For how long, though?

He changes the subject. “How long is Karen gone for?”

Billy shrugs. “Long enough for you and me to get to know each other better.”

Steve’s wife is sleeping with a guy who stalked her in high school. He deserves this.

Billy returns with two glasses and whiskey, by which time Steve’s made himself comfortable on Karen’s sofa. “You, me, ’n Jack Daniels. Ménage a trois.”

His French is abysmal. Steve’s dick stirs anyway.

“Merry Christmas Eve, pretty boy,” Billy says, pouring one out for Steve.

And another.

And another.

“That’s funny.” Steve hiccups, head lolling on the sofa. “Coulda sworn your eyes were blue.”

“Trick of the light,” Billy assures, ember-eyed.

Steve wonders if it’s the light that makes Billy’s teeth look so sharp.

❄

Turns out, Billy’s right. A good dicking does do wonders for your sleep.

❄

Come Christmas morning, Steve wakes up with a hangover and Billy’s morning wood carving a hole into his side.

He extricates himself from under Billy’s arm and slithers out of bed. It’s hard to know which part of his body hates him more- his head or his ass.

They’re in Karen’s room. Steve steps over a negligee puddled on the floor. A bra discarded by someone all too eager to do so. His own boxers, rumpled but wearable. Someone’s wiped cum on the front; it’s still a little damp. Steve drags a finger across it, then puts it in his mouth.

He stumbles downstairs and makes a beeline for the kitchen. Pours himself a glass of water. Rubs the sleep from his eyes while he takes small sips.

It’s way too fucking bright outside. White skies, white snow, white Christmas. The trail of red sticks out like a sore thumb.

He’s barefoot. He should feel the cold.

There shouldn’t be blood on the snow.

It leads him to the shed in the backyard, a dilapidated old thing that houses gardening tools. Broken down appliances. Karen’s mangled body, crumpled in a corner.

“Oh, there she is.”

Billy’s a vision in the morning light. Gold hair, gold skin. Teeth stained red.

A beetle crawls out from where Karen���s arm had once been.

“Her arm’s gone,” Steve observes. What a sleuth. What’s he going to point out next, the teeth marks on her chest? The chunk of flesh missing from her thigh?

“Certainly looks like it,” Billy agrees.

“I think.” Steve takes a step back, right into Billy’s chest. He doesn’t budge from the doorway. “I think we should call the police.”

“It’s Christmas. You shouldn’t bother them.”

Steve nods, slow. Another beetle crawls out. Maybe they’re having a feast. “Nancy, then. She should know.” He turns around. Billy’s watching him. “That’s funny. Could’ve sworn your eyes were blue.”

“Trick of the light,” says Billy.

Steve takes a step back. Karen’s foot brushes his ankle. “My,” he says. “What sharp teeth you have.”

When Billy sinks his teeth into Steve’s flesh, all he can think is, I wonder what Nancy will say.

[skullrock]

the (secret) santa - Jonathan x Steve

12 days of fics day 2 - the (secret) santa

pairing: stonathan

summary: Steve is psyched to get Jonathan for Secret Santa, but has a hard time figuring out what to get him.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: simply none

a/n: Jonathan is Jewish here bc I love that headcanon <3 I used the Internet to tell me when Hanukkah was in 1986, and it said it was December 26th-January 3rd, so that's what I used! hope u enjoy <3 also I literally cannot find a good video to make a stonathan gif w sorry

30 days before Christmas; 31 days before Hanukkah

Steve knew Jonathan, but Steve didn’t know Jonathan. Not the way he’d like to, at least.

When he got Jonathan for Secret Santa, he was ecstatic. It seemed like the perfect way to get closer to him - to make things right, to see him in personal and intimate ways. Ways he has always wanted to. He was excited, until he realized that he didn’t know much about Jonathan, save that he made the bat Steve currently had in his trunk, liked to cook, was cute, and was a photographer. And Steve had already gotten Jonathan a camera, so that wasn’t a viable gift. Plus, the budget was twenty dollars.

Twenty dollars did not seem like enough money to spoil Jonathan Byers like he deserved.

So Steve did the only thing he knew how, which was talk, and try to be sneaky about it.

===

28 days before Christmas; 29 days before Hanukkah

“Jonathan!”

Jonathan and Will both turned on their heels to face the voice that had rung out. Will rolls his eyes when he sees Steve jogging towards them - of course it was Steve. And of course he wanted to talk to Jonathan. How neither of them saw it, he doesn’t know, but he climbs into the passenger seat to give them some space. They’ll get it soon enough.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, shoving his hands hastily into his pockets, as if he had something to hide. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man,” Steve pants, leaning forward just slightly and gripping his side. “Do you like music?”

“What?”

“You know?” Steve licks his lips. “Do you listen to music?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch together. “Yeah, I - I listen to music.”

“Me too.”

Jonathan stares, which is all he really knows how to do around Steve. Stare and observe. Take in the brunette and blonde locks, how they curl a bit on the end, how they all fall perfectly into place when Steve runs a tired hand through them. How his sweater is the color of red maple leaves in the fall, and how it clings to his shoulders. How that sweater rides up when Steve straightens, showing Jonathan the pale and smooth skin of his hips.

“What kind of music?”

Jonathan blinks and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He glances back to Will, smiling knowingly from the passenger seat, then back to Steve. “I kinda - I gotta take Will home.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, then bends forward to wave at Will. Jonathan’s still watching the way the sweater rides up. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“‘s okay,” Jonathan says with a bit of a laugh.

It’s at this point Jonathan realizes what’s going on. Steve was not very subtle about being his Secret Santa. And if that’s not it, then Steve is making an enormous effort to be Jonathan’s friend, and who is he to deprive him of that?

“The Smiths.”

“Who?”

“The Smiths,” he repeats. “And The Cure. Stuff like that.”

It takes Steve a moment to realize these are bands and not families in Hawkins. “Oh. Oh. Awesome. That’s so cool.”

There’s an awkward pause before Jonathan asks, “You?”

“Queen,” Steve says, almost immediately. “Yeah. Queen. And, like, other stuff, too.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Will knocks on the window and raises his eyebrows at Jonathan, because the sight was honestly a bit painful. Jonathan looks, then back to Steve. “I should -”

“Yeah,” Steve says again. “Yeah, go ‘head, don’t let me keep you.”

Jonathan doesn’t know why he feels so damn giddy, why a smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips, but it’s happening. He tucks his face towards the collar of his shirt as he rounds the car. “See you, Steve.”

“See you,” Steve calls back.

He wonders why Will is looking at him like that.

===

25 days before Christmas; 26 days until Hanukkah

There’s something about Jonathan Byers under the glow of Christmas lights.

Maybe it’s the mustard colored sweater he’s wearing, casting a warm glow on his face and illuminating the blonde in his hair. Maybe it’s just the holidays. Either way, Jonathan Byers looked beautiful, and it was just the two of them in Mike’s basement while the kids ran upstairs for snacks.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” Steve asks, his knee against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan bristles. “Oh, we celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers. “I - do you still do presents and stuff?”

“We do.” Jonathan shifts, bumping his knee against Steve’s again. “But we light the menorah and everything, too.”

“Oh.”

Steve mulls over the logistics of getting someone who is Jewish a Christmas present, but Jonathan luckily says, “So I could do the Secret Santa, because we still exchange presents. My family does, anyway.”

Steve hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable.

“What other things do you like?” Steve asks. “I - I just realized that we never really got to know each other.”

Jonathan feels himself about to smile again. “Music-wise?”

“Anything-wise.”

Jonathan doesn’t like talking about materialistic things, so he mumbles. Steve has to lean close to hear, and it makes his hair stand on end. “I like photography. And… peace.”

“Peace?” Steve smiles. “Past few years must have been real hell for you.”

Jonathan laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, they were.” He takes a deep breath. “And I like drawing, sometimes. But Will’s better than me.”

Steve scoffs. “Doubt it.”

“What?”

“I - no. Shit. That’s not what I meant - I mean, like, I’m sure you’re good, too.”

Jonathan lets out a confused laugh. “Thanks.” He relaxes, and his knee is firm against Steve’s now, and both of their breaths hitch. “I really like seeing my friends happy. And I like seeing Will happy. And mom.” And you, he wants to say, but it’s caught half in his chest and half in his throat.

“How is your mom?”

Jonathan wasn’t expecting that. “She’s doing okay.”

“Good. Good.” There’s a sincerity behind Steve’s voice that Jonathan also wasn’t expecting, but that sends his heart soaring in his chest. “If you guys ever need anything….” Steve uses his thumb to point to himself as he turns to Jonathan to show how serious he was. “I’m not that far away.”

“I know,” Jonathan says, and before either of them can say anything else, the kids hustle down the stairs screaming about a movie.

Steve and Jonathan scoot apart.

===

23 days before Christmas; 24 days before Hanukkah

Steve has never been to the Hawkins Library, but Dustin practically holds his hand through the process of finding and selecting a book to read. Steve wants to learn more about Hanukkah, and a children’s book seemed like the best way to understand it all. It takes him only half an hour to read it - a personal record, Steve thinks - and while he’s not still completely sure what Jonathan does to celebrate, he’s at least got a better idea.

Steve thinks of maybe buying Jonathan a hand-made menorah, but the price is well over twenty dollars. Then he considers getting them candles for the menorah, but figures they probably already have that covered. Robin seconds this.

“Just get him a vinyl or a walkman or something,” she says, laying on the floor of Family Video.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” she starts, sitting up slowly, “I would say you’re trying to… impress him.”

Steve stutters. “What? No. No. No way. I - I - I just like getting good presents. I think - I know I’m really, really good at it.”

Robin narrows her eyes at him before sighing. “Steve. I see how you stare at him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Robin says, sighing again. “It means nothing, Steve.”

About an hour later, a miracle happens - Jonathan comes to the store.

Jonathan Byers has never set foot into Family Video, and he treads lightly as he enters. Steve almost trips over himself when he sees Jonathan walk in, another pretty sweater on his slim frame.

“Can I help you?” he asks, approaching Jonathan, who stays relatively close to the door.

“I need to get Will something?” It’s more of a question than a statement. “He wants to watch a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I know the perfect thing!”

Jonathan watches Steve jog the short distance to the register and jog back. Jonathan wonders if he always runs around him to impress him, but he pushes that thought out of his head. Steve presents him with a VHS box with David Bowie on it - Labyrinth.

“Bowie?” Jonathan asks.

“Apparently,” Steve answers. “Will said he wanted to watch it, and Keith finally ordered it. You like Bowie, too, right?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch and he smiles a bit, that swelling feeling once again apparent in his chest. “You remembered what Will wanted to see?”

“‘Course.” Steve puts his hands in his back pockets. “I was holding it for him.”

Will was the most important person to Jonathan Byers. He would very easily trade his life with his brother if he could. He would do anything to make him safe and comfortable and happy. And Jonathan never really saw Steve as someone who would care about his little brother in such a way that he saved a tape for him. Which, yeah, maybe the bar is low, but Jonathan’s known for a while now that Steve Harrington has a knack for defying all expectations.

“It’s free,” Steve says, Jonathan shocked into silence. “Just take it. Let me know how it is.”

“Do you want to watch it?”

Steve’s eyes widen before he blinks. “I mean, maybe -”

“Do you want to watch it with us?” Jonathan almost tags on an “as friends”, but Steve’s almost certainly not thinking it’s a date. Steve’s a boy. Jonathan’s a boy. Just friends.

Steve blinks again, his brain short circuiting - like, yeah, of course he wanted to watch a movie with Jonathan Byers, and yeah, Bowie did look hot in that outfit, and yeah, they’re two men that hardly know each other except on a very deeply personal level that Steve can’t think about without making his head spin. It makes Steve’s head hurt when he thinks about the bond he shares with Jonathan, even though they’d only had approximately seven conversations over four years. He thinks Jonathan looks at him like he has him figured out, and it makes Steve’s stomach turn in excitement and anxiety.

“Tonight?” he finally manages.

“Yeah.”

Steve licks his lips. “Yeah, man. Yeah! Yeah. I like movies. Yeah, man, I can come over. What time? Want me to bring something?”

“No,” Jonathan says quickly. “Just yourself. Eight?”

“I can do that,” Steve says, not a hint of a joke in his voice. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

Although Steve had only ever been at the Byers residence to thwart evil from overtaking the  universe, he does remember. He could make the drive with his eyes closed. “I do.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Robin smirks behind the counter.

===

Later, 9 pm

Jonathan cannot believe how obvious Steve is about being his Secret Santa.

“Do you listen to Bowie?” he whispers in the middle of the movie. Their knees are touching again.

“Yeah,” Jonathan whispers back.

“Do you, like, have all of his albums?”

Jonathan glances at Steve, then back at the TV. “I do.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh and Jonathan has to stifle his laugh behind his hand. Will can’t believe how obvious they’re being, either, but he tries to focus on the movie and not the scene happening beside him.

“Do you - like… um. Is there an artist you don’t have… an album… for?”

Steve cringes at himself.

“I’m set,” Jonathan says, trying to wrack his brain for anything he could give Steve. He feels pity for Steve, who’s just trying his best, but Jonathan isn’t exactly materialistic. He doesn’t even know why he let Will convince him to be part of the exchange.

Steve lets his eyes wander around, trying to think of anything he could get Jonathan. Maybe a nice blanket, or a sweater. Maybe a David Bowie poster. His eyes wander towards the kitchen window, where he can see a golden candlestick holder.

“Menorah?” he asks Jonathan, gesturing towards it.

“Yeah.” Jonathan looks towards it, too.

“It’s the twenty-sixth this year, right?”

“What?”

“Hanukkah,” Steve clarifies. “‘Til the third?”

“H- how’d you know that?”

“I looked it up,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“You looked it up?” Jonathan asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Steve frowns a bit. “Was I not supposed to?”

“Why’d you look it up?”

“So I could know more about what you celebrate.”

“Oh.” Jonathan looks back at the TV. “That. That’s nice of you.” And then he looks back at  Steve and with a small smirk says, “We don’t need candles for it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says with a smile, bumping his knee against Jonathan’s.

They both smile the rest of the movie.

===

16 days before Christmas; 17 days before Hanukkah

Steve takes his headphones off. “I don’t know if I like them.”

Jonathan scoffs and bristles. “What - what don’t you like about Joy Division?”

Jonathan’s bed dips under Steve as he adjusts, his knee and elbow hitting Jonathan’s. “They’re, like, sad.”

“That’s the point!”

Steve rolls his eyes slightly, but smiles. “Why do you always want to be sad?”

“I - I don’t - they’re just good.”

“I believe you,” Steve says, and he means it. “I mean, what do I know about music?”

“Here,” Jonathan says, leaning forward to grab a Bowie album. “Have you ever listened to Bowie?”

“On the radio.”

Jonathan smiles and puts the tape into the walkman, and Steve puts the headphones back on. He gives Jonathan an apprehensive look as the younger boy clicks through songs, and is pleasantly surprised by the music that comes through. It’s not as sad as Joy Division - not at all. Not whiney, either - it’s victorious and upbeat and Steve can’t help but to move, shimmying in place, leaning sideways to hit Jonathan’s arm with his as he dances. Jonathan smiles and says something, but the headphones block him out. “What?!”

Jonathan chuckles and pauses the music. “I said, do you like it?”

“It’s happy!” Steve asserts. “You should listen to this stuff more often.”

“I do listen to it.”

“More. Often,” Steve enunciates, and then presses play on the walkman, his hand brushing against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan realizes how much he likes Steve being happy. He always knew it, but he didn’t know how much he liked it. Steve moves like he owns the world, like he’s not ashamed or afraid of anything. And Jonathan knows how bullshitthat is, that Steve, at heart, is a scared and insecure person who needs to love and be loved every moment of the day. Jonathan wishes he could give that to him, but if David Bowie gets Steve close to as happy as Jonathan would like to make him, he’ll take it.

“Put it in your stereo,” Steve says suddenly, pausing the music. “We should both listen to it, shouldn’t we?”

Jonathan shrugs a shoulder and takes the tape from the walkman, slipping it into the stereo and playing it. They both jump at the volume before Jonathan turns it down, and then they sit together, listening to Heroes until it fades out.

“Like us,” Steve says. “Heroes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “I guess.” Jonathan chews his lip for a moment before pausing the tape. “You saved my life.”

“What?”

“When the….” Jonathan can’t say it. “With the bat.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve looks at his hands and then smiles. “After you saved mine by beating the shit out of me.” Jonathan stiffens, and Steve sighs. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m… God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jonathan says, voice a bit cooler. “It’s in the past.”

“You did save my life, though,” Steve says after a pause. “Seriously. If you didn’t beat sense into my brain….”

“You mean a concussion?”

“Sense,” Steve repeats. “If it wasn’t for you….”

“I know.”

It’s all that needs said.

“Another?” Steve asks.

“Really?”

“I like listening,” Steve says.

Jonathan suppresses another smile as he leans forward and turns the tape on again. Their arms are touching.

===

10 days before Christmas; 11 days before Hanukkah

“Just get him a new walkman,” Dustin says, tone bored, as Steve drags him through the biggest mall within an hour from Hawkins.

“It’s not good enough!”

Steve is exasperated, and desperate. He’d been spending way more time with Jonathan, and kept asking questions - he’s 90% sure Jonathan is on to him at this point - and he was still unsure of what to get him. Each day that passed made Steve more desperate to give Jonathan something that would make him happy, and a twenty dollar budget was just not enough for Steve. And though he feels like he knows Jonathan more than most people, he doesn’t quite understand Jonathan. And he wants to. He wants to so badly.

“Jesus, o-kay,” Dustin says, throwing his arms out.

“I’m not - I’m not mad at you.” Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair as he stares at  a sweater displayed in a window. “I just - I don’t know what to get him.”

Dustin knows why, but he still asks, “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t! I don’t. I don’t care that much.”

Dustin sees through the bullshit, but he doesn’t think a mall is the best place to talk to Steve about his feelings. “I just got Mike a new dice set. It’s not the best gift, but he’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m not lazy.”

Dustin pouts. “I’m not lazy -”

“And you’re not supposed to tell me who your person is -”

“You told me yours!” Dustin already knew Steve’s, but the point still stood.

Steve’s brows twitch in agitation. “Well, yeah, because I need help!”

“And I am helping you. Get him a damn walkman.”

As Steve contemplates the idea, a new one pops into his head.

“Perfect!” he shouts, making everyone stop to look at him. Dustin inclines his head, trying to get Steve to elaborate.

“We have to go to the music store. Now.”

===

3 days before Christmas, 4 days before Hanukkah

It’s official - Steve hates Joy Division. Not as much as he hates the Smiths, but he definitely hates it.

His ears hurt after listening to Jonathan’s favorite music, hand selecting the songs with the lyrics that Steve thought best exemplified Jonathan. In a way, the music helped Steve understand Jonathan, which was a happy surprise. And, quite honestly, Steve doesn’t mind listening to the music, because he knows it would make Jonathan happy, and that’s mainly what he cares about.

But something seems missing. Maybe it’s because no gift on Earth would be good enough for Steve to give to Jonathan. Jonathan deserved the world, deserved much better than what he was dealt. So did the rest of his family. Steve knows if he gave Jonathan anything worth anything, though, he wouldn’t take it. And if he did take it, he would share it - and Steve wanted to get him something that was purely for Jonathan. Maybe a mixtape was the perfect gift, but it didn’t feel like it. Something was missing.

Not that Steve had much time to contemplate another gift, because the exchange was happening tonight, and Steve couldn’t even write a two page paper in six hours, let alone find a better gift.

There’s always next year, he thinks as he’s wrapping it. Or his birthday. Or….

The wrapping paper his mom had purchased was patterned with bright green mistletoe, plum colored berries hanging from the leaves. Steve’s eyes focus on it for a while - intimacy was something that he missed. The closest he’d gotten in a year was his skin pushed up against Jonathan’s, knees and biceps touching. It made him yearn, and not for just anyone, but for him. For Jonathan.

But Steve doesn’t know how Jonathan feels. Yeah, they touch each other a lot, but maybe that’s just what friends do. Steve wouldn’t know. Jonathan’s eyes had lingered on Steve’s face before, and when they were smoking Jonathan didn’t even wince when Steve passed the joint to him. Isn’t that kind of like kissing? Steve doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to kiss Jonathan. He’s known for a while, and Robin told him after Steve cried to her one night that maybe he’s bisexual, and Steve had adopted that term because he wants to kiss Jonathan Byers so bad. And a kiss would be a personal, for-Jonathan-Byers-only gift.

A kiss, though, seems very straightforward. It doesn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe back in high school when Steve would kiss just about anyone, but not now. Not when he doesn’t even know if Jonathan swings that way.

So Steve finishes wrapping the tape, and he prints Jonathan on it in the best handwriting he can muster, and he hopes Jonathan understands through the lyrics.

===

“It’s got, like, you know.” Steve clears his throat. He’s too aware of the mistletoe above them. “The bands we listened to on it.”

“Steve,” Jonathan says, turning the tape over in his hands. His brows are furrowed together as he studies it, wondering what’s on the tape, wondering what Steve thought was intrinsically Jonathan Byers. It was such a personal gift that Jonathan didn’t even know what to do or say. “I…. Thanks. Thank you, Steve.”

Max grabs another gift from under the tree. “This one’s for Mike.” She chucks it at him and everyone’s eyes seem to turn to Mike, except for Will and Steve.

Their eyes meet, and Will gives Steve a look he doesn’t understand.

What? He mouths.

Will’s eyes flit up to the mistletoe, then back down to Steve and Jonathan. He repeats this a few times until Steve almost gasps at the suggestion. Does Will know something Steve doesn’t?

Steve nods his head as subtly as he can towards Jonathan. Him?

Will nods furiously, then looks back to Mike, who seems quite pleased with the dice Dustin had bought him. But Steve doesn’t get it, and when the presents are done, he pulls Will aside.

“What the hell?” he hisses. “What - what does that -” he mimics Will’s eye movements - “mean?”

Will rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he repeats. He gets quiet, and Steve can see Joyce in Will. “He likes you.”

“What? Did he say something to you?

“Steve. You touch each other, like, all the time.”

Steve deflates. “So he didn’t say something?”

“He doesn’t need to. Why do you think I convinced him to do this?”

Steve knows he’s saying “what?” too many times, but he says it again. “What?”

“We all planned this. We paired you two together on purpose.” And then he walks away because he’s tired of hearing about everyone’s love lives. This isn’t his problem. He just wants to play with Mike’s new dice.

When Steve looks towards the kids, they’re all staring. They quickly start talking to each other again, and Steve lets himself sit with the realization that these bunch of punks just pulled the most amazing Christmas hijink of perhaps all time.

Shitheads, Steve thinks, and while he’s definitely going to confront (and thank) them later, he’s got to talk to Jonathan first.

Later, 9 pm

“I knew it was you, you know.”

It’s cold outside, but it’s the best privacy they could get.

“How?” Steve asks, though he already knows.

“You’re not very conniving,” Jonathan says, once again suppressing a smile. “It was pretty obvious.”

“I just wanted to get you something you’d like,” Steve says. He breathes out and watches his breath disappear into the cold air. “You’re impossible to shop for, you know.”

Jonathan has the audacity to seem offended. “What?”

“Impossible,” Steve says, stepping forward. “You’re not a materialistic person.”

“So?”

“So,” Steve says. “So.” He can feel his heart in his throat, beating loud and fast - he hopes Jonathan can’t hear it. “So….”

And then they’re kissing under the mistletoe that Mrs. Wheeler hung on the porch.

Steve pulls back first, quick, surprised with himself. “Shit.”

Jonathan says nothing - he just stares.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, throat dry.

“Didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Jonathan blinks. “Then do it again.”

And this time Steve really steps forward, really takes Jonathan’s cold cheeks in his cold hands, and he really kisses him. Jonathan finally lets that smile come through for the first time in a month as he melts into Steve, like a snowflake into a snowbank. Steve’s warm - well, warmer than the air - and he tastes a lot like vanilla birthday cake. Jonathan’s never really liked cake, but he likes Steve’s lips. Weird.

Jonathan pulls back first this time, because it was getting increasingly harder to kiss as his smile grew. He even tries to hide it behind his hand again, but Steve stops him, taking his cold fingers and wrapping his own through them.

“Impossible to shop for,” Steve repeats, his own smile hurting his cheeks. “Good thing kisses are free and personal.”

A laugh bubbles up from Jonathan’s chest and to his lips. “Yeah.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Their chests are touching. “Good thing.”

===

tags: @pterawaters​ @mpmarypoppins​