#post starcourt

[metalhoops]

Steve’s party trick was appearing sober long past the point of inebriation. 

It was an act he’d perfected through observation. He’d watched his mother down wine like water and waltz into a garden party looking sober as a saint. So when everything went down at the Starcourt Mall, with the drugs and the appearance of another burgeoning concussion-induced migraine fogging the edges of his vision, he’d pushed through with professional tact. 

Steve couldn’t explain how it happened. One moment he was sitting on the kitchen counter, cradling a bag of frozen peas to his bare face, freezer burn nipping at the edges of his consciousness, and the next he was sprawled out on the carpet of a stranger’s house. 

What happened in between, he’d never know. 

Maybe it was for the best. Ignorance was bliss, in Steve’s opinion. His life was so much easier before the Upside Down. He would’ve been a worse person and lived a worse life. Yet his life would’ve been close to normal, not the mercurial mess it’d become.  He wouldn’t have spent the night locked in a secret underground soviet bunker, his face doubling as a punching bag for a man he didn’t know, while monsters roamed about the town. 

The mall had burned down, Steve remembered. After all was said and done, Mrs Byers dropped him and Robin off at their respective homes. Steve insisted he didn’t need to go to the hospital, that he was fine and, more importantly, that his parents were home. When Robin sobered up, she’d realise Steve had lied.

He’d told Robin a lot of things, and after the night in the mall, so had she. She knew Steve’s parents had been out of town for months, but she’d been flying too high to use any of her admittedly brilliant brain to put two and two together. Steve loved Robin. He loved her differently after that night, but he still loved her. He was human. He needed time to lick his wounds and some space. The quiet of the Harrington house had seemed like a blessing, so where the hell was he now?

“Hey, what did you take?” A vaguely familiar voice shook Steve from his stupor. 

He rolled away from the sound, burying his face in the carpet. He cringed as a  spark of pain shot through the veiled numbness that’d inhabited his body since the Russian drugs had hijacked his system. 

“Ouch,” Steve grumbled miserably. 

His head throbbed. One eye was entirely swollen shut. Even if Steve was sober, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to place the boy through his hazy vision. All he could make out were colours, pale skin, dark hair, and darker clothes. 

“I know. I know. You’ve got a real shiner, Harrington. Come on, up,” the boy instructed. 

Steve felt cool skin graze against the nape of his neck, pulling him up into a sitting position. Steve remained boneless, not making the task easy. 

He felt separate from his body, not sure where he ended and the rest of the world began. Once pulled up, he kept falling forward, his face making contact with the dark fabric of the boy’s shirt. The boy was more comfortable than the floor, with less carpet burn and more smooth leather. He smelled of smoke, sweat and an earthy kind of cologne that hadn’t been refreshed in hours.

“Elevator up,” Steve chuckled, laughing too hard for his own good. 

His ribs ached. He felt a laugh shudder through the boy’s body as he pulled Steve back, trying to get a better look at him. He held a finger in front of Steve’s face. 

“Not sure what this is meant to do but I’ve seen it in movies,” the boy commented as he moved his finger right to left, inspecting Steve’s face for something, neither boy was quite sure of. 

“Alright. You’ve gotta know I’m the least likely person to narc on you, Harrington. What did you take? Special K? Some Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds? Were you Chasing the Dragon? Gotta be something stronger than weed, man,” the boy insisted. 

Steve screwed up his nose and moved away from the man. 

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Steve complained, trying to untangle the string of words the guy had thrown his way. 

Steve staggered to his feet, swaying before propping himself up, leaning against the wall, and feeling the whole thing tilt under his weight. 

“Dude, your walls are broken,” Steve muttered, as his legs gave out and he slid down to the floor. 

“We’re in a trailer, Steve,” the boy pointed out. Steve looked around the place, trying to make shapes from the blurs of colour and light. 

“Oh yeah,” He noted before resting his chin on his knee. 

The boy sat down in front of him, mirroring Steve’s posture, his chin resting on the bare knees of his ripped jeans. 

“Do you know what you took?” He pushed on, this time taking a different approach. 

“No,” Steve admitted, at last, sliding forward. 

The boy’s rings had caught his attention. They were little halos of light. He curiously tugged at his hand, pulling him close to examine the shine. He ran his fingers over the rise and fall of the rings. 

“Okay,” the dark-haired boy breathed, seemingly to himself. 

“I think you need to go to the hospital, dude.” 

“No hospitals,” Steve remarked eloquently as he returned to his previous position, face down on the carpet, taking the boy's hand with him. 

“Yeah well, I’m not so sure I like the idea of you sleeping either, Stevie,” He reasoned, his voice sounding strangled.   

“I’m tired,” Steve rebutted, his eyes sliding shut. 

There the boy was again, taking Steve’s face into his palm and pulling him up. For a moment, the vision in his good eye cleared enough to make out brown eyes painted with concern. 

“Look, I know we hated each other’s guts in high school but I don’t want you to O.D. on my carpet. It’s not good for the ambience,” the boy continued. 

Steve squinted, trying to place the face. Sure, he’d been a jerk in high school, particularly before his senior year, but he didn’t remember hating anyone. Not really. Maybe Jonathan, for a time, but that had passed. 

Munson. Steve’s brain supplied at last. The boy was Eddie Munson. He sold drugs and hung out on the fringes of Steve’s bigger parties back in the peak of his ‘King Steve’ era. 

“You hated me?” Steve asked, hearing the hurt in his voice before he realised what he was feeling. Eddie’s eyes widened in alarm, Steve’s face still in his palm. 

“What? No. I thought you hated me. I mean, you were a jock and I’ve got my whole ‘fuck the man shtick’, so it wasn’t like we ran in the same circles,” Eddie elaborated. 

“Jocks are ‘the man’?” Steve questioned. He’d like to blame the drugs, but he’d probably ask the question sober. 

“No. Yes. Kind of. Jocks are like... the grease for a cog in the wheel of the machine. All mass compliance to societal norms... or whatever.” 

Steve blinked owlishly at Eddie, trying to make a lick of sense out of what he’d said before resigning himself to the fact that he was completely lost. 

“I like Grease. It’s a cool movie,” he settled on, startling another laugh out of Eddie. He gently lowered Steve’s face onto the carpet and sighed. 

“Yeah, it’s a cool movie,” he muttered, leaving Steve for a moment, tossing sheets and a pillow from the sofa to the floor beside him. 

“Look, I’m going to stay up and make sure you don’t choke on your own tongue. You can stay here for the night, but I’m not letting you crash until my uncle gives you the thumbs up, weirdo.” 

Eddie slid a cushion beneath Steve’s head and draped the sheet over him. Steve was bone tired. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, but the pain in his body was growing by the moment and less favourable memories were leaking back into the forefront of his mind. He watched as Eddie placed a tape into the VCR and sat down beside Steve. It took him too long to realise the film was Grease. 

“Who’d you get into a fight with this time?” Eddie asked, seemingly aware of Steve’s sudden restlessness. 

Steve didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to. 

“Were the drugs before or after?” He pushed, searching for something Steve couldn’t work out.

Again, Steve didn’t know how to answer. Once more, Eddie let it slide. 

“You want me to call anyone? A girlfriend... or?” He doesn’t mention Steve’s parents. 

Maybe he was at more parties than Steve remembered, enough to know that the Harringtons being in Hawkins was rarer than a blue moon, less frequent than even Steve would admit to. 

“No,” Steve grumbled, starting to feel the swelling in his lip. 

Eddie nodded and let Steve have his silence. He half paid attention to the flashing lights on the screen, fading in and out of consciousness. Eddie would gently elbow his side each time Steve almost reached sleep. It was a long night, broken only by the opening of a door come sunrise. 

The light was too bright, too sudden. Steve shrunk from it curling into the closest point of dark comfort. Steve realised too late he’d curled himself into a small ball, tucking his face into the familiar darkness provided by Eddie’s crossed legs. 

“What in the Sam Hill have you gotten into, kid?” Steve heard a gruff voice ask in the doorway. Despite his words, the man didn’t sound angry, more amused. 

Steve felt Eddie pull the sheets up to hide his broken face from the light. 

“You know when I was fourteen, and I brought home that stray cat?” Eddie asked. 

Steve heard a door shutting and the scrape of a dining chair sliding against the linoleum. 

“The one that was sick as a dog?” The gruff voice replied. Probably Eddie’s uncle. 

“Same situation,” Eddie spoke.

“You’re telling me you found a kid wanderin’ round the trailer park at night and thought you’d bring him home? You remember what happened to that cat, right?” His uncle asked. 

“He went missing after a week. Then we found him half-kickin’ curled up in the back seat of the Johnsons’ cinder-blocked Austin,” Eddie muttered, stating the words as though it were a conversation Eddie and his uncle had before.  

“And you didn’t leave your room for a week.” 

“Your point, old man?” Eddie remarked.

“My point is, I love you, kid. But sometimes your bleeding heart is more trouble than it’s worth.” 

To Steve’s surprise, the sheet was pulled off his head. The next thing he knew he was face to face with Eddie’s uncle. The man shone a torch in Steve’s eyes, echoing Eddie’s movements, placing a finger in front of his eyes. Eddie watched in silence at Steve’s side. 

“He’s got a pretty bad concussion,” Eddie’s uncle supplied after a beat. 

“He was on something when I found him,” Eddie said. 

Steve was getting sick of people talking about him like he wasn’t there but in the same vein, he wanted to convalesce in peace. Eddie’s uncle shot him a sceptical look.

“Nothing I gave him, promise. He’s not letting me take him to the hospital.” 

“He’s right here,” Steve interjected.

He watched as Eddie’s uncle levelled him under his intense gaze. For the first time since he’d entered the room, he wasn’t seeing symptoms, or a problem Eddie had dropped in his lap but a boy. A kid, in Wayne’s eyes, one that looked worse for wear. It was the goddamn cat all over again. 

“I’m going to get you water and some aspirin. Eds, get some rest. No buts, kid you look like you haven’t slept a wink. Should also be safe enough for you to try to get some shut-eye, boy. I’m not Eddie, you can’t bat your eyes at me and get your way. I’m taking you to the hospital if anything happens, right?” 

Steve looked at the man with narrowly masked surprise before giving him a weak nod. He couldn’t imagine his parents doing the same, not even for one of Steve’s friends, let alone a stranger. 

“Come on, you can sleep in my room,” Eddie uttered, springing to his feet with a joviality that someone who’d gone twenty-four hours without sleep shouldn’t be able to muster. 

Steve blinked, slowly standing and gathering the sheets around himself, acutely aware of how ridiculous he looked. 

“Keep the door open,” Wayne called at their retreating backs. 

That was how Steve spent the summer of ‘85 hauled up and healing at the Munsons’ trailer. A few months later, he’d return the favour. When Eddie went missing, Wayne knew where to look. 

#steddie #steddie ficlet #Pre season 4 #because I'm on my pre season 4 #steddie bullishit #again #stranger things #fictlet #post starcourt #st 4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #my unused psych degree #wants you to know that #what Steve experienced is called a #dissociative fugue #steddie drabble #drabble #Metalhoops writes

[italiansteebie]

The first time Steve is exposed to subculture, it changes his life. The sneer his mother gives ins't surprising, but Steve can't help but be entranced by the glinting silver on this random man's body.

They're everywhere, in his nose, lips, and when he flicks his tongue out, Steve even catches sight of the shining jewelry in his tongue. And maybe Steve was already 13, practically grown up at this point, but he sees this man and thinks, that's who he wants to be when he grows up.

Unfortunately, that is not how things go.

His mother sees him studying the style of the delinquent in front of them and smacks his lightly on the head. "You have a reputation to uphold, Steven," She mutters through gritted teeth. So Steve hangs his head, and his dreams of looking like the colored haired boy he saw in the grocery store.

So years later, he's still adorned in polo shirts and light washed jeans. He's snuck in some goofy hair, but it's no where near what he'd want it to be ideally.

And here's the thing, he knew his family's reputation was important, but now that he's been denied from every college he applied to, including tech, and he's been lowered to serving ice cream in a sailor uniform, he wonders just how important the reputation was.

--

He can't help but wonder if he's going to die like this.

Covered in vomit and blood, in a sailor outfit on a dirty bathroom floor curled up to a lesbian, who he thinks maybe his soulmate. Platonically, of course.

"I've always wanted, like- colored hair. 'Nd piercings 'nd stuff. Y'know." Steve said, letting his head fall against Robin's shoulder. "Why haven't you?" Robin asked, resting her head on his. Steve shrugged, "Reputation, I guess. I think my parents would commit homicide."

Robin snorted, "If only they could see you now," she giggles. Steve shifts to retaliate, but can only laugh along with her. Steve nods, laughing harder when an angry looking Dustin and Erica barge into the bathroom.

--

They make it out alive.

Somehow. But they do.

And that's how they ended up here.

"Rob, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course it is! Look, Eddie is probably the only punk adjacent guy for miles, and he probably knows about all those records you think you hide in your closet."

"You've seen those?"

Robin shrugs, "When there's a box labeled 'do not open' in King Steve's closet, you take a look. It doesn't matter! I'm sure he knows who Iron Maiden is!"

The door swings open, "Of course I do."

Eddie Munson stands in front of them in all his glory.

"Told ya." Robin says, a light sneer on her face. Steve shoves her over, before looking back at Eddie, about to speak before he cuts him off. "I know Iron Maiden, what I don't know, is why King Steve is on my front porch with Robin from band. And why he's asking about Iron Maiden of all things." Eddie looks a bit like he want's to turn them away, but he steps back and opens the door wider, motioning for them to come in.

Once they're all milling about Eddie's tiny living room, Steve starts. "I know you've got this whole," Steve gestures at Eddie, "Metal head look going on and, well. I need some advice. Guidance, if you will." Robin nods along with him. "Yeah, a lot of guidance. He want's to get his nose pierced, but he only has polos."

Steve scoffs at this. "I have band shirts, Buckley. I'm just not allowed to wear them. But no more! I'm fully embracing this side of me."

Eddie watches, slightly amused, "So what do you need my help for?" He asks, eyebrow arching. "I need you to pierce my nose. Or at least tall me where to go," Steve rambles, shifting from foot to foot.

He watches as the metal head mulls this over. Eddie sighs, and shakes his head, Steve's shoulders dropping. "C'mon, Rob. He's not gonna do it, let's just go." He says quietly. "Woah, hey! I never said I wouldn't do it. I just don't uh- Why me?"

"You're the only person I thought could be helpful." Steve admits, watching as a smirk spreads across Eddie's face. "Alright then, big boy. Step into my office."

Steve follows Eddie into the bathroom, Robin hot on his heels, watching in some combination of awe and fear as Eddie pulls out. needle from the medicine cabinet. "Oh shit," Steve breathes. Eddie raises an eyebrow, but moves on. "Stay here while I get the jewelry."

"You okay, Steve? Oh my god, you're shaking." Robin frets, "Do you wanna back out? We don't have to do this." She says, grabbing Steve's hand. Steve swallows thickly, "I- I want to. I just. The needle is really freaking me out. I keep seeing that fucking syringe." Robin nods, rubbing Steve's shoulder, laying her head on his shoulder.

Eddie comes bounding back into the bathroom, "Hey- woah. Am I interrupting? No PDA in the trailer, please." He laughs. Steve and Robin jump away from each other, "Oh ew. He is so not my type," Robin groans.

"Whatever, let's do this Stevie. We're doing your septum, right?"

Steve tilts his head, and Eddie sighs "The one right here," Eddie places his hands on his own septum. "Oh, yeah. That one." Eddie nods, getting to work.

Eddie lies the needle up with Steve's nose, "Okay, breath in," Steve follows, "And breath out," Eddie instructs, and slides the needle through. In a fluid motion, Eddie slides the jewelry in, screwing on the ball and checking his work.

"Alright, we're all done, Steve-o." Eddie says, patting his cheek, before looking up at the boy. He looked a bit pale. "Steve?" He asked, before Steve promptly passed out, flopping to the floor in a boneless heap. "Oh, shit. Steve!" Robin cries, bending down. Eddie freezes for a second, "Oh shit. Okay. He probably just fainted, it happens sometimes. Lemme get him some water." He practically leaps through the trailer to grab some water.

He's back in the bathroom right as Steve comes to, "Scoops! I work for scoops, please!" He's shouting, there's tearing streaming down his face and Robin is there next to him, holding him close. "Shh, Steve. We're in the trailer, remember? Eddie's trailer? He pierced your nose." Robin soothes.

Eddie moves in closer, "yeah, I uh. I got you some water," he says, handing him the water. Steve grabs it with a shakey hand, "Thanks, Munson." He breathes, tears slowing. "Uh. Sorry. I had a long month. Y'know," Steve shrugs, and it leaves Eddie reeling. Was he just going to pretend this didn't just happen? The guy was still sitting on his bathroom floor. "Steve, seriously? Look, just sit here, I'm gonna go call someone to pick us up." Robin sighs, before making her way out of the small space.

"Are you okay," Eddie asks, sincerely, "No." Steve answers, voice cracking as he does so. "I was in that mall fire last month, and the hospital trip involved a lot of needles. I guess I didn't realize they still kind of freak me out." Eddie nodded in understanding. "I get that. I couldn't look at a blue chevy for the longest time cause it reminded me of my dad."

Steve sighed, "Thanks for doing this, Eddie. Hey, uh. How much do I owe you?" Eddie waved his hand, "It's all good, Harrington." He dismissed. Steve shook his head, "No way man, I gotta pay you back somehow." He insisted.

Eddie mulled it over, "take me to dinner?" He asked, before realizing what the fuck he just said, "I mean- fuck. Not- I didn't" He scrambled to his feet. Steve grabbed his hand, "Eddie, wait. It's fine."

"Fine? I asked you on a date. If you hadn't just passed out in my bathroom, I'm positive you would've decked me by now!" Eddie squealed. Steve shook his head, "I- I like both, Eddie. Y'know, boys and girls. And honestly. I'd love to go on a date with you," Steve said, smiling up at him.

"Steve! Joyce's here to pick us up since you died!" Robin called from the living room. Eddie helped Steve stand, and walked him to the living room. Steve leaned a little heavier into his side, "I'll call you when I'm a little less weak in the knees, okay?" Steve said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before following Robin outside.

"Thanks again, Eds!" Steve called once he was in the car.

Eddie couldn't wait for that phone call.

#punk steve harrington #punk steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie #robin buckley #best friend robin #post starcourt #starcourt aftermath #stranger things #steddie #steddie ficlet #best friend robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #steve has bad parents

[crayonboxcolors607]

in honor of Part 1 getting 100 likes and like 15 reblogs! (a lot for tiny stupid me lol) i decided to suck it up and write another part bc ppl have asked for it

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ PART ONE, PLEASE DO SO!

After Robin found out, things were a bit better for Steve. The two of them practiced their signs during slow shifts at the Family Video. Robin showed him a new sign every day and helped him improve his lip reading. It benefited his daily life too. Gone were the days when he had to walk all the way across the store to talk to Robin, now the two of them could have conversations from opposite sides of the store, their hands flying fast as they spoke.

Robin was a fucking godsend, bullying Keith into giving Steve more time off in case of migraines and providing excuses when he couldn't drive the kids around. She begged Steve to wear his hearing aids, eventually telling him that if he played his cards right he could cover them up with his hair, which ultimately convinced him. She'd helped him find a new hairstyle that almost eliminated them completely, clapping her hands excitedly as the shock on his face was evident when he turned them on and could differentiate sounds again.

Of course, there were still things that were hard, even with the hearing aids. Steve needed to be directly facing someone in order to have a basic understanding of what they were saying, and there couldn't be anything obstructing their mouth. This proved especially difficult when Steve interacted with the younger Party members, although they continued to chalk it up to Steve's usual airheadedness. For once, he was grateful to be stereotyped as a dumb jock.

One random day in October, however, things began to change.

Dustin had somehow roped Steve into driving him, Mike, and Lucas to some fancy-ass comic store in Indianapolis, claiming that "the one in Hawkins is not nearly comprehensive enough, Steve". He'd rolled his eyes and responded with what they referred to as his "Mom Pose", his hands on his hips and his eyebrow cocked as he stared at them judgementally. Eventually, though, he'd relented, letting them fight over who got shotgun and who had to sit in the back.

Somehow, although he himself didn't quite seem to know how, Lucas managed to snag the front seat. He'd slid in quietly as Dustin and Mike threw themselves into the backseat, yelling obnoxiously about unfairness and favoritism. Steve refrained from pointing out that he'd had no part in the tussle for shotgun, instead allowing it to play out.

He and Lucas had been engaging in conversation about sports when Lucas had quietly mentioned that he was thinking of trying out for the school's basketball team, tentatively asking Steve if they could meet up the next weekend so he could give him some pointers. Steve had agreed without even thinking, but he began to panic once he got home later that afternoon. How was he supposed to go over skills in basketball when he couldn't even hear out of his left ear?

But in typical Steve fashion, he procrastinated until the last minute, eventually deciding that he simply wouldn't wear the hearing aids. He'd be fine for one basketball practice, right?

And so, Steve drove to the basketball courts that Saturday, removing his hearing aids as he arrived, and thus reintroducing a fuzzy ringing in his ears that he hadn't experienced in a long time. It felt alien, but he shook his head around a bit and started to shoot baskets. He'd forgotten how good sports made him feel, and was pleasantly surprised at the adrenaline that began pumping through his veins. In fact, his new lack of hearing made it easier for him to practice, as it allowed him to tune out the rest of the world and focus solely on himself and his own fluid motions.

This did prove to be a slight problem, however, as he didn't hear Lucas dropping his stuff on the bench, nor did he notice him walking up to Steve. So the tapping on his shoulder startled him far more than it should have.

"Jesus Sinclair!" Steve exclaimed. "You scared the shit outta me, man!" Lucas seemed confused at Steve's reaction, and he silently reminded himself that none of the kids knew about his hearing.

"Uhh, sorry Steve," Lucas said slowly. "Are um, are you okay?" The concern on his face melted Steve's heart just a little bit.

"I'm fine buddy," he reassured the young teen. "Was just in my own world a bit, you know, focusing and stuff." His explanation seemed to comfort Lucas enough, and he grinned.

"You ready to get started?" he asked, tossing the younger boy the ball. Lucas caught it with a practiced ease and began dribbling, feinting left and right. Steve dropped down into his defensive position, mirroring Lucas's every movement, tracking his feet to predict which direction he would go next.

He felt himself slipping back into that headspace that he loved so much, the one that drew him into sports in the first place. Because he didn’t need to think about it, the strategies were always in his brain. He just needed to rely on muscle memory, all his former skills coming back to him as he and Lucas scrimmaged.

They played for about thirty minutes before taking a quick break to grab water and snacks, both of them struggling to catch their breath. Lucas opened his Gatorade™ and said something Steve, causing him to look over in surprise as he struggled to figure out what the younger boy was saying.

"Pardon?" he said, pretending he just hadn't been paying attention. Lucas repeated himself, or at least Steve had to assume that he did, because again, he couldn't understand a single word that left the younger boy's mouth.

There was a heavy feeling in his stomach as he debated asking Lucas to repeat himself a third time.

Someone tapped his leg, pulling him out of his own spiraling headspace. Steve looked up, feeling even worse as he registered the fear on Lucas' face.

"Steve," Lucas began slowly, seeming struggling with what to say next. "Can you, uh, can you not hear me?"

Of course, that sentence Steve was able to comprehend.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head.

"Not really," he replied, looking anywhere but at Lucas. "My hearing started to go after Billy smashed my head with a plate. And it got worse after Starcourt." He looked up then, a grim smile on his face. "Turns out multiple concussions aren't exactly good for a person."

Lucas' eyes widened at the confession. "So, are you deaf?" he asked. Or at least, Steve assumed that's what he said.

"Partially," Steve replied. "I can't hear at all out of my left ear, that's where I got the most damage. My right ear can function, but not normally. I mostly rely on reading lips and context clues."

"Oh my god," Lucas said slowly, the gears visibly turning in his head. "Oh my god! W-we kept teasing you! We kept calling you stupid a-and laughing at you! You couldn't even hear us! And you-" The boy suddenly slumped over and placed his head in his hands. He said something, Steve was sure of it, but it was additionally muffled by him covering his face.

"Uh, Lucas, buddy," Steve said hesitantly. "I can't understand you if I can't see your face." Lucas looked up at him then, tears pooling in his eyes.

"It's my fault," he said. Steve felt his mouth drop open in shock, and began to protest, but Lucas stopped him.

"Billy was coming after me," he insisted, talking clearer so Steve could understand. "He was attacking me! You stepped in and tried to defend me -- now you're deaf and it's all my fault!"

Steve felt his heart drop.

He'd been so scared to tell anyone because he was worried they wouldn't view him the same way as before, that he hadn't even considered how the kids might feel if they knew he was like this because of his attempts to protect them.

"Oh Lucas," Steve said softly, gathering the crying teen into his arms. "It's not your fault. There isn't a world where I wouldn't have done the same. You're my kid. I'm always gonna protect you. That's just how it works." He felt Lucas try to push away, to protest, but he just held him tighter. "You and your little gaggle of idiots are worth everything. I'd go deaf a thousand times if it meant keeping you all safe."

With a sniffle, Lucas detached himself from the older boy.

"Really?" he said, eyes shiny with tears.

"Of course," Steve responded, without missing a beat. He gave the younger boy a final squeeze, before wiping away the few tears that had escaped while he and Lucas were talking. "I'd better get you home anyway. Your mom will have my head on a stick if you miss dinner." He kept his hand on Lucas' back as he wiped his tears and sniffed a final time.

"Okay," he said. "But you're staying for dinner."

HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED! ONLY TOOK ME 9 MONTHS LOL

okay okay so i did talk about the older members of the party finding out next as well as dustin but i just had to make a liar out of myself bc when i started writing this my brain was just like "but what if we did a wholesome reveal with Lucas instead??" and now here we are and i regret nothing

except the lack of sleep. i regret that a lot.

also, i am not an athlete. i am a depressed and introverted high school theater kid who has never played basketball in my entire life bc i am a measly 5ft 1in (roughly 155cm). so dont come at me if the sportsball lingo is incorrect bc i have no fucking clue what im doing.

also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND ALL THE LIKES AND REBLOGS ON MY LAST POST!!

#stranger things #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #the battle of starcourt #post starcourt #deaf steve harrington #hoh steve harrington #hard of hearing steve harrington #fluff #wholesome #heartwarming #i cried writing this #i hope you cry reading this #jk #not really tho

[half-oz-eddie]

Tw for PTSD, thoughts of suicide, self harm

God I feel like if Billy survived his PTSD would be so horrible.

He would probably feel like things were crawling inside his skin for a long time. The way he would scratch his arms until they bled would leave nasty scars everywhere.

He’d be afraid to go out into the sun, thinking it would burn him. He’d probably become agoraphobic and never want to go outside, because the last time he was out in a crowd, he panicked. He just can’t do it again. He can’t be around people anymore.

He would hear voices. dark whispers calling his name, and he’d cover his ears, crying for them to shut the fuck up.

And the nightmares? Oh, the nightmares would be dreadful. Fuck sleep, he’d never get any of that again. All he would remember is the people he hurt, the people he got killed in all of this.

He’d remember how he almost died, and still feel the pain of being pierced by the mind flayer’s tentacles.

He would have heightened senses, or think he does, or maybe he experiences sensory overload now. Everything’s brighter, Everything’s louder. Even a dog barking outside makes him jumpy. And he can always smell things. What is that? The smell of something rotting? He smells it all the time. He would think it’s coming from his own body, but it isn’t.

Billy would shower—constantly. The water would always be cold, because…he likes it cold. That’s all he would be able to remember. He’d be used to it.

Anytime someone would come over to visit, the house would be dark, freezing and all the curtains would be closed. He’d probably give someone a key to enter, because he’d never come to the door. He would always stay in bed, or in a corner. He couldn’t even stand eye contact with anyone. Partly because of shame and guilt, partly because he was afraid to hurt someone.

Steve was the only one who dared to get close enough. “You need some sunlight in here, buddy.” He’d say as he would try to open the curtain, only to be tackled to the ground by a panicked Billy.

“You can’t stay in here like this! You’re gonna kill yourself!” Steve would shout through the struggle.

“Yeah, well maybe I should!” Billy would shout back.

The sudden admission would be met with silence, and for the first time in months, Billy would make eye contact with someone. He would quickly let Steve go, and turn away from him.

“Get out.”

And Steve would refuse.

“This isn’t a way to live. You’ve gotta let a little sunlight in. It’ll feel like it’s still alive if you keep it so dark and cold in here.”

Eventually, he’d let a little sunlight in. Maybe he’d let Steve in too. But it would take time. A really long time.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #post starcourt

[stranger-rants]

Billy would probably feel abandoned by everyone had he survived Starcourt, but what hurts the most about it would be the way people avoid talking about it. They don’t acknowledge what they did or didn’t do before Billy nearly died. They act like it was all necessary to stop The Mindflayer, and Billy can’t be around them when they feel like talking about it. When they talk about the Upside Down and it’s creatures and the crazy, scary shit they’ve fought off or Vecna or whatever… he just has to leave the room, because no one ever ever considers what it felt like the whole time. Like, they realize he’s pretty messed up from it all but they don’t consider how messed up he is emotionally just from not having a single person on his side. Again.

Yeah, he stood up to The Mindflayer which was “badass” and they use his heroism as a way into their circle, but that doesn’t change the fact that they were going to find any way they could to put him down and as guilty as he feels about all the death and destruction (that wasn’t his fault) it still hurts. It hurts like when his mother left. It hurts like when he called and she stopped answering. None of them understand how alone he feels, and how much help he needs. They take his fierce independence and unwillingness to ask for help to be just Billy’s stubbornness but the reality is that he doesn’t trust anyone to help him and they prove that to him by not being there when he does need help. He just feels angry and alone and internalizes that no one will ever protect him.

It’s not intentional on anyone’s part. They just don’t get it, and Billy fears that if he advocates for himself then all his past misdeeds will be used against him which is what happens when you’re surviving abuse. Maybe Billy goes silent when people joke around him, or hides away in his room when people come over, or slams the door when he’s overwhelmed, and people will say “what’s his problem?” or “what did I do?” or “some things never change” but they don’t understand that on the other side of the door he’s reliving every single moment of those few days he was possessed and he just needs someone to care. He just needs someone to acknowledge his pain, and stop acting like everything’s okay now. He just needs someone to say he didn’t deserve it - he deserved to be helped, and he was let down.

#disabled billy #billy hargrove #post starcourt

[feral-jackdaw]

Just Stay

Day 4 of #steddieweek2023 - hurt/comfort

Eddie couldn't care less that the Starcourt mall burned down. Sure, he most likely just lost his summer job, but he was never a fan of it anyway.

There was just one thing bothering him. The only positive of his job was that he finally got to know THE Steve Harrington, who worked in an ice cream parlor right across the bookstore where Eddie worked. And his silly crush on the boy got even bigger after he saw him in the ridiculous sailor uniform.

The two eventually became friends since they kept meeting outside during their breaks, when Eddie was going out to smoke and Steve just wanted a moment of peace and quiet.

And now Eddie had no idea if Steve was okay. He anxiously tried to keep up with the news, relieved not to see Steve and Robin's names among the victims of the fire, but they just kept adding more and more names with each report. And Eddie couldn't take it anymore.

....

Hearing someone knock on the door, Steve got roused from his half-asleep state. He tried to sit up as slowly as possible, but the dizzines hit him anyway, making him want to lay back down and stay there forever. But the knocking continued, so he eventually managed to drag himself to the hall to open the door.

As soon as he opened it, he got blinded by the bright light outside. Inside the house, he had all the blinds pulled to block out the light that was making his headache worse. And right now, he felt as if someone set his brain on fire.

“Steve?” he heard someone call in a concerned tone. He couldn't see the person but he recognized their voice. Eddie.

“What happened to you? Holy shit. Who did this?�� Eddie questioned.

Steve just stood there, trying to come up with some story, but his head refused to cooperate.

“I- I just- it's nothing, I just-” he stuttered

“Yeah, it's totally nothing,” Eddie mocked. “Come on, let me... Let me help you.”

Before Steve knew, he got grabbed by the shoulder and led back to the living room.

“Sit down,” Eddie instructed in a soft tone. “Just tell me where you keep your... medical stuff,” he requested.

“Oh, it's in the...”

Wait, where? What was even the question?

“Okay, nevermind, I'll handle this,” Eddie decided. “Just stay here. I'll be right back,” he assured.

For the next ten minutes, Steve could hear him bustling about. Wait, why was he here again? What was he doing?

But Steve couldn't really be bothered to worry about it right now because his head started to feel heavy again and he had to lay down.

Next thing he knew, there was something cold on his face. It was a sudden sensation, but it felt good. It eased the pain a bit.

“Hey there,” someone spoke. Ah, right, it's Eddie, Steve realized, he's here for some reason. “Can you hear me?”

“Mhm,” Steve mumbled in response.

“Good,” Eddie whispered. “Look, I brought you paracetamol, but you need to sit up for a moment, okay? I'll help you,” he offered.

Before Steve could say anything, he felt a hand slide under his back and slowly lift him into a seated position.

“Here,” Eddie spoke, handing Steve a pill.

Steve looked up at him in confusion.

“It will help your pain,” Eddie explained.

Oh, yeah, right, Steve remembered. Eddie gave him the pill and then helped him drink some water, holding the glass for him.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Eddie asked, helping Steve lay back down.

“Just... stay,” Steve replied.

“Of course,” Eddie replied. He grabbed Steve's hand and started rubbing it gently with his thumb. “I'll be right here.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #fanfiction #fanfic #my wrtitng #steddieweek2023 #hurt/comfort #whump #whump fic #steve harrington whump #caretaking #caretaker eddie munson #post starcourt #stranger things s3

[thegoblinboy]

Do you know how obsessed I am with scenes that are slightly changed to include Eddie? Like right now I can't help myself but write a one shot where he runs into Steve after Starcourt or something. Its been written so many times but god do I need to take my own spin at it.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #post starcourt #the middle between season three and four is my heart and soul

[withacapitalp]

Steve has a routine for nights like this. A routine for the times when his world gets flipped on its axis. Just four simple steps to keep his body alive while his mind tries to sort through whatever fucked up thing he just went through. 

Steve has a Routine. 

Robin breaks that Routine.

#Steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #qpr stobin #Steve and robin #stranger things #stranger things 3 #post s3 #post starcourt #st #Steve Harrington has ptsd #h/c #stranger things fic #I worked so hard on this y'all I hope you like it #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

By the time all the fighting against monsters era came to an end and their lives were peaceful for the first time ever, Max’s legs were fully disabled, Billy was permanently attached to an oxygen tank, and Steve had an eyepatch and hearing aids. After spending a few months doing nothing besides watching movies, football games, and playing Monopoly a sickening amount of times, they decided they needed something new. They had a comfortable sum of money they managed to ween out of the government. They were safe in their three bedroom double wide. The walls were thin and the fire alarms would start beeping as soon as the stove turned on, but it was home to the three of them. More of a home than either of them had ever had.

Steve and Billy shared a room. It took them a while to get along past awkward silences and childish bickering. But, eventually Billy let down some of his walls and Steve stopped the endless snark. Max lived with her headphones on most days. The boys were lucky if she exited her room and ate dinner with them in the beginning. And eventually they were inseparable.

But, eventually, they got bored. Max would get lonely with all her friends away at school while she got tutored from home. Steve and Billy wanted to work. They felt useless without responsibilities.

They went to the shelter after a month of endless wandering about each day trying to pin point why they all felt antsy.

“How are we supposed to decide which one we take home,” Steve crouched down as a plump puppy waddled it’s way over to him. It licked his hand and he laughed before looking up at Billy and Max.

Billy looked around and Max shrugged her shoulders. She bent down almost painfully to reach a different puppy by the right wheel of her chair.

Billy made his way over to a big cage in the center of the kennel area. A thin, raggedy looking Great Dane laid sprawled and panting happily before him. White hairs decorated her coat and one of her eyes were showing signs of blindness. Very similar to Steve’s dead eye. He smiled at her and spooked a little when her head suddenly popped up to look behind him.

Steve’s hand touched the cage and Billy looked up at him. Both their eyes wide as they made contact.

A worker seemed to notice their interest because a voice broke their moment, “This is Franny,” she patted the cage, “As you can see she’s blind in her left eye and she doesn’t walk too well. We can’t tell how old she is, but we know she doesn’t have the longest time left.”

Max had wheeled herself over and stuck a finger in the cage, face serene, “How much for her?”

The worker smiled big at the three of them circling the cage, “Free actually.”

Steve held onto Billy’s arm for a moment as he stood back up, “We’ll take her.”

Billy blinked back some tears that threatened to spill as Franny barked almost like the puppies around them. He opened the cage and sat to wait as she slowly stood up and walked to him. Her breath wasn’t pretty but he let her lick him anyway.

Steve sat by him as the lady went to grab the paperwork and he felt Max roll over to his other side.

“She’s beautiful,” Max ran a hand over Franny’s head and scratched gently.

Steve waved his patch at her and giggled like a child when she laid down and set her paw on his lap.

Billy laughed when she rose her pretty dark eyes up at him as she rested her head again.

“Welcome to the family, Old Girl.”

“You’re a sap, Hargrove.”

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #max mayfield #disabled characters #stranger things #harringrove #billy/steve #found family #post starcourt #post st4

[creepydude78]

Billy after starcourt playing some basketball, he'd give tommy shit for telling him to hurry up since he's slower even after healing up

#billy hargrove #stranger things fanart #billy hargrove fanart #billy hargrove lives #post starcourt #injured billy #scarred billy hargrove

[threewaywithdelusion]

Steve Loves Robin, Pre Capital P

When Steve works at Scoops Ahoy, he asks out damn near every girl who walks into the place. 

He asks out the girls who just graduated alongside him, the girls who are a year older than him, the girls who are old enough to never have gone to school with him and not remember King Steve or his quick and shameful fall from grace. 

Every single one of them says no. They all know they’re too good for him, a lowlife with a dead-end job who once ruled Hawkins High. 

Robin draws tally after tally on the “you suck” side of the whiteboard and Steve can’t help but feel that she’s more right than she knows. 

~~~

Steve’s confession of love to Robin is in an unglamorous, unromantic public bathroom after they’ve both vomited the drugs mostly out of their system. After they’ve been tortured together. After Steve realizes that Robin is the type of person who will stay behind and hold the door with Steve to allow two kids she hardly knows the chance to escape.

She’s the type of girl to laugh while tied to a chair in a torture chamber. The type of girl to spit in a Russian soldier’s face. The type of girl to give up information, not because she’s being threatened, but because Steve is.

She tries to protect Steve.

No one ever tries to protect Steve. Steve is the shield. He’s the one who puts himself between Nancy and the demogorgon, between Lucas and Billy, between Dustin and the demodogs. 

It feels weird to be the one being protected for once. 

It feels almost like being loved. 

At least he thinks so. What would Steve know about love? His parents have never loved him, Nancy never loved him, certainly none of the girls he’s dated have ever loved him. The kids like him, like how he drives them places, like the free ice cream he gives them and how he lets them sneak through the back into the movie theater. 

But Steve thinks Robin — brave, sarcastic, beautiful Robin — might love him. 

Someday. Maybe. If he’s good enough. 

She turns him down. Of course she does. But it’s actually kind of nice, knowing it’s not about him. Robin doesn’t like him because Robin likes girls and Steve isn’t a girl. Not because Steve is too cool or not cool enough, because he’s stupid, because he’s fake, because he’s bullshit. 

Robin says she likes him. 

She doesn’t mean it that way, but she doesn’t have to. 

Robin Buckley, one of the best people Steve has ever met, likes him. 

He’s never letting her go.

~~~

Three nights after Starcourt, Robin shows up at Steve’s front door at two in the morning. 

“I can’t sleep,” she says. 

Steve doesn’t think he’s slept since 1983. 

He invites Robin in and leads her up to his room, where she hesitates by the bed. 

I have a girl in my room, says the part of Steve’s brain that’s used to registering these things. She’s only in her pajamas, ratty shorts and a t-shirt so big it falls off one shoulder, revealing freckled collarbones. She looks so pretty, and part of Steve still wants to kiss her, wants to belong to this girl who followed him into hell and held his hand when he was scared. 

But she looks nervous, watching Steve like she isn’t quite sure she trusts him. Like after all they’ve been through — after Russians and monsters from another dimension — what scares her is being a girl, wanted by a boy. 

Steve wrenches his eyes away from her. “I can sleep on the floor.”

This is going to hurt like hell. Steve’s head hasn’t stopped hurting for a single second, no matter how many painkillers he’s taken, and he’s pretty sure his broken ribs won’t do well on the hard ground. 

But he’ll do anything to keep her from being scared. He’ll do anything to keep her here. To not have to be alone.

Robin’s shoulders drop a little with relief, but she still says “I didn’t come to your house to kick you out of your own bed.”

Steve watches from the corner of his eyes as she climbs into his bed, under the covers on the side he never uses. 

It was Nancy’s side, once upon a time. 

“C’mon, Dingus,” Robin says, chin tilted a little like she’s trying to be brave. “I trust you to be a gentleman.”

He climbs into bed carefully, staying a foot away from her, not crossing any lines. He can hear her breathing in the dark, steady and even, and it’s enough to lull him to sleep. 

When he wakes in the morning, he’s wrapped around her. Her head is on his shoulder and she looks peaceful. The sun is up, and Steve can’t remember the last time he slept for so many hours in a row. 

Steve makes extra sure his hands haven’t come to rest anywhere Robin wouldn’t want him touching. He needs to keep her, this girl who teases him and trusts him and helps him sleep through the night. 

Robin sleeps over every night after that.

#platonic stobin #steve and robin are platonic soulmates #post starcourt #stranger things fanfiction #Mia writes fanfic #I like the stories where Steve confuses friendship for romantic attraction with Robin #because this boy is definitely messed up about love #but I want to see more where he was actually in love with her #and then they still became platonic soulmates #there's something special about choosing to love someone #even if it hurts or it's not the way you wanted #and then having it be even better

[italiansteebie]

"Steve Harrington Local Hero"

Eddie snorts as he reads the headline, what kind of hero is harrington? the hero of caring too much about your looks?

he scoffs as he reads further, "local teen rescues middle school students from mall fire." he squints at the fuzzy picture pasted onto the newspaper. wait-

this look like those twerps that have the middle school DnD party. he's seen them occasionally, nodded at the little byers kid and his DM folder.

man, how does steve harrington of all people know these kids?

he rolls his eyes as he skims the paper, landed on the subtitle "local teen" that's got steve's face plastered under it. damn, he looks fucked up, a fire did that?

no way.

and look! apparently robin buckley from band was tangled up in the mess too! and what's even more surprising is the pictures of her and steve squished side by side in an ambulance, wearing matching sailor uniforms.

what the hell is going on?

#steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #stranger things #pre steddie #post starcourt #post star court #king steve #best friends robin and steve #the battle of starcourt #starcourt mall #outsiders POV #stranger things fic #ficlet

[crayonboxcolors607]

Steve didn't mean for anyone to find out.

Looking back, the ringing had started before Starcourt, before Billy even. He'd attributed the fuzziness to the recently acquired concussion he'd received from Jonathon, holy shit that guy could punch. Except it didn't go away. It stayed with him like a fucked up reminder of the asshole persona he'd worked so hard to shed.

And even after he came to terms with it, after he realized there was nothing to do about it, nobody seemed to notice. His constant asking of "Huh? and "What?" and when he was in school, "Could you repeat that please?" was chalked up to his airheaded jockiness.

He learned how to focus on people's lips when they spoke, how to not let it get under his skin when Nancy teased him about it, called him stupid, and then later, bullshit.

Billy's gruesome attack had admittedly made it much worse, had transferred the ringing from just the left side of his head to both, but still, nobody noticed. He struggled through the remainder of his senior year and failed to get accepted to any college he applied to. He let his father force him into a job, tell him that he wasn't worth a place in the family company, that he deserved to work minimum wage like the degreeless scum he was sure to be for the rest of his life.

He'd rolled his eyes and pretended to be snarky when Robin insulted him, her tongue moving so fast that he knew there was no chance he would've been able to understand even if he could hear perfectly. When he tried and failed to flirt with the girls that came into the Scoops Ahoy, he let her keep track of his failures on the board instead of writing the daily specials like she was supposed to.

He hid behind laughter as the kids in The Party teased him, told him "This is why you didn't go to college!", called him stupid when he didn't hear the setup for a joke, when Dustin became frustrated because he'd focused on the background music in the Russian transmission; the only part he didn't have to struggle to detect the sounds of.

God, the Russians.

It was as if he was underwater after that. The words were bubbly and distant, but still, he could understand them, sort of. He made an effort to get face-to-face with Robin in the bathroom, did his best to not make his staring at her lips too obvious as she confessed, and threw out a joke when he realized she was genuinely afraid that he would hate her.

He'd watched the other Party members so he could figure out what he was supposed to be doing, having given up trying to understand whatever instructions Dustin and Nancy were prattling out. He tagged along with Robin as Dustin and Erica rushed up the hill to guide Hopper, Murray, and Joyce throughout the Russian base using Cerebro, replying to her concerned “Are you okay dingus?” with an “I’m fine,” that he couldn’t even really hear.

He did his best to help out, feeling a twinge of accomplishment when he insisted that he and Robin go check out what the fuck was going on with Starcourt’s lights, although it was quickly drowned out by the worry for the children he’d come to adopt as his own.

Even as he and Robin got in the car though, he couldn’t ignore the little voice in the back of his head that snarked “Is that really all you’re good for now that you can’t hear? Noticing the lights?”, responding to it with an inner denial he didn’t even remember having.

He thought hard as he and Robin drove as fast as they could back to Starcourt, his mind racing. “You could maybe even live like this,” he told himself as he gripped the steering wheel.

Then he saw Billy’s Camaro speeding towards Nancy, saw her failed attempts at derailing him with bullets.

And he didn’t even think before flooring the gas pedal, pressing his and Robin’s backs into their seats as he crashed, head on, full speed, into Billy’s car. His head ricocheted off the steering wheel, back into the headrest of his seat.

Then the fuzzy underwater noises in his ears gave way to metallic ringing, and everything went dark.

His memories are murky and vague after that, flashes of clarity amidst all the chaos. Throwing lit packages of fireworks; the panic that grew in his chest when Billy brought El towards the Mindflayer; not being able to hear Billy and Max's screams well enough; the bile that rose in his throat when he learned that Hopper had been lost to the Upside-Down.

He remembers Robin screaming when a paramedic tried to pry the two of them apart, shaking her head and repeating, "No, no, no. I need to stay with him," as she'd cried. How El crumpled to the ground when she realized that her father was gone.

He doesn't remember how he made it through the physical exam from the ambulance staff without someone picking up on it, doesn't remember what they'd told him about his injuries.

He remembers peeling off his grimy uniform with Robin, trying to take turns in the shower, and eventually resorting to washing the other's hair in the bathroom sink because they couldn't reach up high enough to do it themself. How Robin had tried for days afterward to scrub the blood and sweat and ash out of their uniforms, breaking down in tears when Steve grabbed her hands and held her when she beat his chest as she cried.

He doesn't remember how Robin first figured it out, just knows that one day they were sitting on the floor of his barren room sifting through tapes, and she'd maneuvered the record player off his desk. How she'd looked utterly affronted when he asked her what the fuck she was doing, responding with an incredulous, "Because it's on your left, and you can't hear out of that ear, dingus," as if it was obvious. How she later explained to him that her father was deaf, that she knew sign language alongside Spanish, French, and Italian.

He remembers how she'd searched through Hawkins Library, and eventually taken a day trip to Indianapolis with him so they could find books to teach him American Sign Language. How giddy she had been when he signed his first sentence to her, how she'd said it felt like the secret code but without the malintent.

He remembers how Robin had eventually dragged him out to an audiologist in Indy, rationalizing the cost with his parent's money, and how they learned that he was 100% deaf in his left ear and had 30% hearing loss in his right. How he'd been given a set of hearing aids that he'd promptly put in a drawer and purposely ignored.

And yeah, the world was weird, and Steve couldn't really hear it, and there was really only one person with which he could actually communicate and understand.

But he would survive because he always did. Because he had to. He was Steve Harrington, for fuck's sake. It was his job to take care of other people.

So yeah, nobody was supposed to find out.

But Steve is fucking grateful that Robin did.

did i write this at 11pm instead of doing work? perhaps. will i probably fail several classes because of this current hyperfixation? most likely. do i care? not really, no.

im probably gonna write another one of these if this lands well (and also if it doesnt cuz thats what the brain worms want) so lemme know what you think

next one will probably be about dustin and/or the older members of the party (nancy, jonathan, etc)

#steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things 4 #stranger things 3 #post starcourt #the battle of starcourt #hard of hearing steve harrington #deaf steve harrington #robin buckley knows sign language #CODA robin buckley #american sign language #platonic stobin #robin buckley is amazing

[half-oz-eddie]

Post-Starcourt Billy after seeing the doctor

Billy: The doctor said I could touch myself whenever I feel like it.

Steve: What?? No, he said you could have a stroke at any time. You need to be careful.

#incorrect harringrove quotes #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #post starcourt

[stranger-rants]

Billy being rushed to the hospital after Starcourt. Everyone staying late, donating blood if they can, sleeping in uncomfortable plastic chairs waiting to see if he’ll pull through. Trying to process what Billy did for them. Getting checked up on themselves while they’re there. (Hopper is alive, reunited with El.) Billy could wake up if they wanted him to, but he’s in a medically induced coma until he’s strong enough to handle being awake. His room becomes steadily filled with cards and balloons and matchbox cars and teddies.

When he’s able to wake up, he spends most of his day sleeping anyway. He needs it. Sometimes he wakes up startled and confused, and they have to sedate him so he doesn’t rip open his stitches. El holds his hand sometimes. Tries to calm his mind. Remind him he’s safe. The adults take shifts to make him feel safe, too. He panics less when he’s not alone, even if he’s still barely awake. He shivers a lot and the staff cover him in warm blankets that make him feel like he’s being held. Warm. Safe.

It’s hard for him to eat. He can’t sit up without feeling faint. Despite the pain, Billy is terribly polite and apologetic. Sometimes he cries when he needs help, not because he doesn’t want to need it but because he feels like a burden. All those people. He should be dead. The nurse tells him It’s okay baby. You ate what you could. You moved as much as you could. Healing takes time. It’s okay. So he lays back down and takes in all the things left behind in his room and he feels something he hasn’t in a long while… he feels loved.

#that’s what i want to see #recovery is everything #billy hargrove #post starcourt #disabled billy

[dragonflylady77]

*FIC* Never fall for a straight guy

I wrote a thing, it's on Ao3 but you can read it here as well I guess...

Oh and it's for @prettyboybillyhargrove *mwah*

Chapter 1 - a dull sort of pain

Billy is browsing the movies in the Horror section at Family Video, trying to find something Max hasn’t seen yet, when he hears Harrington whisper from the counter. 

“You deal with him.”

“Steve…” Buckley whines and Billy moves closer to the head of the aisle so he can hear better, while still pretending to be oblivious and looking at the titles.

“No, Rob. I can’t. Not after…” Harrington stops and Billy feels a pang in his chest. 

He has apologized for that night at the Byers last year, and he meant it. He understands that people don’t have to forgive him. It hurts but there isn’t much he can do about it. He really thought that after he stopped the mind flayer and kinda saved the world (until the next time anyway), Harrington and Max’s weird friends would stop hating him at least. Seems he was asking too much.

“Fine,” Buckley replies with a huge sigh and suddenly Billy isn’t so sure he wants to hire a movie. Not if him being there is such a fucking imposition on both of them. 

He promised Max they would watch movies when she comes over to his place this weekend so he really needs to pick something. His very own apartment was one of the perks of making it out alive after being possessed by a monster from an alternate dimension. No longer being around his asshole of a father was definitely a huge help in his recovery. It gave him a chance to rebuild something with his sister after the fiasco that was the move to Hawkins. Billy is still working through the guilt he feels for the people he killed while under the influence of the mind flayer, but Neil Hargrove is one death that he can’t be sorry for. Will never be sorry for.

He moves further away from the counter, not keen to hear Harrington complain about him some more. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard already, Steve Harrington has never hidden how much he dislikes Billy.

Billy curses under his breath. He knew the rule, heard it enough times from his friends when he lived in California. Never fall for a straight guy. He can repeat it like a mantra all he wants but his heart (and his dick) refuse to listen. 

He keeps moving down the aisles, trying not to listen but hearing it anyway. The two at the counter are hardly being discreet, even if they’re speaking in some code… Apparently, Harrington has a crush and Buckley thinks he should tell whoever it is about it. 

Something in Billy’s chest starts hurting, a dull sort of pain, and he rubs absently at it. He can feel the scar tissue under the thin cotton of his shirt, and reminds himself that all this pining is pointless. Steve Harrington, with all his money and his perfect hair, wouldn’t want anything to do with a scarred high school dropout who works on cars for a living... 

“Fuck this,” Billy mumbles, putting down on a random shelf the couple of video tapes he’d picked up and exiting the video store without another glance at the boy plaguing his dreams. Maxine will just have to deal with the movies he already owns.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #+ robin buckley #dfl writes #there is pining #post starcourt #harringrove fanfic