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augustjustice · 9 months

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Sharing Smokes Outside the Snow Ball

AO3 Link

It's the Winter of 1999, and Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are standing outside the Hawkins Middle School Snow Ball, sharing a smoke.

Eddie can't believe he's back here, the whole thing feeling nearly as surreal as that nightmare, wayward Spring Break over ten years ago. He'd barely made it out of that hell hole alive, Steve himself practically having to hold Eddie together as they made their way from Forest Hill to Hawkins Memorial Hospital.

Spring had turned into summer, sweltering and oppressive as Eddie slowly, painfully healed.

There had been bright spots, though. Watching Lucas and Erica squabble during the one-shot campaign he had cooked up just for the party that June. Evenings out beside the Harrington's temperature controlled pool, beer bottle sweating in his hand as he traded a joint back and forth between Argyle and Jonathan, the sound of Robin's cackle loud and bright as she managed to hipcheck Steve into the pool. Steve's own blinding smile--a longtime feature of Eddie's secret high school fantasies--being turned on him the first time he made it from the front doors of the physical therapy clinic to the passenger side of his BMW, without needing any help at all.

But then summer had ended, and Eddie, finally back together again like a character out of a children's nursery rhyme, had packed up his van and headed straight to Chicago, not looking back.

Sure, there'd been post cards sent, phone calls to Dustin and the other Hellfire brats, promises to see everyone soon. Promises that Eddie couldn't keep, even if he wanted to.

Not when he didn't dare set foot in Hawkins, not ever again.

Then, over a decade into his second life as a struggling guitarist by night, record shop employee by day, his cousin Brooke had landed on his doorstep, looking too tired and too young all at once, a bruise around her eye. Behind her, her eleven year old son was studying the apartment hall's tiling.

"I left him." Eddie didn't need an explanation for that one. Her good-for-nothing husband, Nash. "Jake won't be any trouble, he just...needs a place to stay, while I get back on my feet. Somewhere his daddy can't find him. Just for a little while."

Eddie thought of his Mama. And then he called Wayne.

"Shit, Uncle Wayne, I--don't know what to do."

"Come on home now, boy," Wayne said, easy as anything, like Eddie had left only yesterday. "Come on back home."

So Eddie had.

That had been six months ago. And now he was standing in the aforementioned middle school parking lot with Steve 'the Hair' Harrington, while their kids--and wasn't that just a fucking head trip and a half--danced the night away.

"I keep half expecting Click to round the corner screaming my name," Eddie admits as he gives Steve a light. "Remember junior year, I sold to you in the alley behind the gym? Old bat nearly got me that time."

"Remember? I literally had to shove that joint down the front of my shorts, dude," Steve admits, which draws a snort out of Eddie to match his own chuckle. "Most of the guys on the basketball team couldn't move half as fast as you did that day. You practically vanished into the woods before she even made it to the stadium. Totally shoulda gone out for the track team, Eds."

Eddie clutches his chest, as though he's been shot. "Don't speak such blasphemy to me, Harrington."

"Yeah, well, you can quit worrying. Pretty sure she finally retired," Steve tells him, taking a long drag before he's passing the cigarette back to Eddie, even that brief touch enough to send sparks of electricity up Eddie's arm. Then he shoots Eddie that charming, infamous Harrington smile, boyish and cocky, the one that says he's used to getting exactly what he wants. "Even if she's not, I'm head of the PTA. If Higgins tries anything, I'll just threaten not to bring cupcakes to the next bake sale."

"Harrington, my hero," Eddie fakes a swoon, collapsing for a brief second against Steve's shoulder, an excuse to get close.

The theatrics get no rise out of Steve beyond an amused smirk. Even after all these years, he's still used to Eddie's antics, it seems.

"You know, it was total déjà vu," he nods to the middle school gymnasium, all decked out in blue and white, "dropping Sam off here."

Though he's actually gotten to know the Harrington offspring in person since he's been back, Eddie had received the rundown from Dustin and the others on Steve's journey to dadhood in their scattered calls over the years.

The December after Eddie had left, Steve had met a girl, taken her out on a few dates, and accidentally gotten her pregnant.

With Samantha, a name Dustin had proudly persuaded Steve into as the little girl's godfather. Every bit as adorable, now that Eddie had seen her, as the gushing picture the party had painted for him, all big blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair just like her father's.

Steve had gotten down on one knee long before she was born, determined to tie the knot and do right by her mother nearly as soon as he'd heard the news.

The pair had been divorced not even two years later.

"I don't think they were ever really in love," Dustin had informed Eddie one sunny afternoon impromptu of nothing, as always blunt in his honesty. "But you know what Steve is like. He's a hopeless romantic."

Eddie didn't, not exactly. But he's gotten enough glimpses, both back in '86 and much more recently, that he's starting to put the picture together.

Steve draws Eddie out of that particular reverie with another bright laugh. And then he's recounting the memory of Dustin's hair, done up in the infamous Harrington 'do, as Steve pulled up in front of the '84 Snow Ball playing chaperone in his trusty Beemer, long since traded in for the much more affordable sedan he's driving now.

"I demand photographic evidence, Harrington," Eddie insists, smile crooked, that distracting dimple appearing in his right cheek, "you can't conjure up an image like that and then not fork over the goods."

"Hey, man, talk to Dustin. Mrs. Henderson took like...a million pictures that night," Steve laughs.

But he's already mentally going through the album tucked away on a bookcase back at home, positive he's got his own photo to show for it. It'll make for a nice excuse to invite Eddie over for dinner one night.

The subject turns then to their own checkered experiences with school dances.

"Class of '85, baby! That's when they made your 'King Steve' title official," Eddie crows, teasing as he taps Steve once on the nose.

Steve goes a bit cross-eyed, following the movement of his finger.

"Yeah, well, talk about a total let-down of a night. I didn't even bring a date," Steve admits, tone blasé. The truth is, his entire senior year had been something of a disappointed trudge towards graduation, a walk he had taken mostly alone. There had been bright spots--the little band of miscreants he'd fallen into babysitting, for one--but they had all been far outside the walls of Hawkins High. "I'm guessing you weren't around for that? Not really your scene, especially with the Munson Doctrine's strict rules about 'forced conforming.'"

He puts Eddie's words in deliberate air quotes, his turn to give him a teasing smile.

"You're wrong about that one, big boy. I saw them, adorning your glorious locks with the crown." That mischievous smile is back. "We're not that old, dude, don't tell me you already forgot the whole 'prom streaking' incident?"

Eddie shoots him a loaded, deliberate look.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Shaking his head with a laugh, Steve waves his arms in front of him, like he's calling a time out. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me. That was you?"

"The one and only. What can I say, Jeff and Gareth dared me. Besides, by that point," Eddie shrugs casually, "I already knew I didn't have a shot at graduating anyway, so. Thought I'd close out the year with a bang."

"You've seriously never considered doing anything halfway in your life, have you, Munson?" Steve asks, giving Eddie's shoulder an almost exasperated nudge, smile fond in spite of himself.

"Absolutely not, Stevie boy. Life's too short. Where's the fun in playing it safe?"

Eddie swings into Steve's space, then, dark eyes sparkling. Goading and flirtatious. Just like when they were teenagers, thrown together in the worst of circumstances but making the best of it, before time and pain and trauma put all that distance between them.

And if Steve's eyes drop down to Eddie's lips as they share air, slow enough it can't be anything but deliberate, and their fingers brush just a tad too intimately the next time they trade the cigarette back and forth...well. They've got a lot of lost time--and shared smokes in school parking lots--to make up for.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my stuff #my things #i watched the end of season 2 for the umpteenth time this evening #remembered i always wanted a steddie scene parallel to the jopper smoking scene outside the snow ball #and then wrote this in a fevered haze over the past two hours #so apologies for any mistakes and messiness

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runninguplenorahills · 1 year

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costume party gone wrong ⭐️🍄

uncolored version and close up of Mike under the cut

#byler #the girls are lenora girl and snow ball girl btw #byler fanart #will byers #mike wheeler #will byers fanart #mike wheeler fanart #stranger things #stranger things fanart #lenora’s stranger things art #super mario movie

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strawberryspence · 2 years

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Part 1 / Part 2 (please read part 1 first)

Robin Buckley finds birthdays weird. The first one you ever have, all the people around you celebrate while you don’t understand anything. You don’t remember much of the next few ones, maybe your seventh, your eighth.

Robin’s favorite birthday from her childhood is her twelfth. It’s nothing special. But she remembers the day so clearly, her friends, grandparents and parents singing in the park as she blows out candles. She remembers playing at the park for the rest of the day with her friends and this one boy. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and a toothy smile. She remembers telling him it’s her birthday and she remembers the boy softly singing three lines of Happy Birthday as her other friends play in the background. Robin watches him make a flower crown with daisies, before offering it to her, as a birthday present. Robin takes a few daisies, tucks it into his brown hair. Before he leaves, Robin asks him to keep the daisies, to remember her by, and Robin keeps the remnants of the flower crown tucked in an old book somewhere.

Robin’s best birthday ever is her nineteenth birthday. It’s the first of her birthdays that she and Steve celebrate together as bestfriends. Steve makes a big deal out of it. He bakes a chocolate cake, garnished with shaved chocolates on top just the way she likes it. Steve drives them to Indianapolis, takes her to her favorite stores, buys her a tiny rainbow pin and tucking it in her jean jacket with the softest smile. He buys one of his own, tucks it in the sleeve of his ridiculous wine red sweater.

They go home, and at home Steve shows her his room. He’s shy, doesn’t even want to show her. His room, even with dull and colorless wallpaper has never been dull when Steve Harrington is in it. But tonight, it’s filled with the brightest fairylights, stringed around the room, turning it into the smallest and most wonderful wonderland.

“It’s the closest thing to Paris I have right now.”

Because Paris is Robin Buckley’s dream destination. Because Steve Harrington knows her, like the back of his hand. Because Steve Harrington is his soulmate.

There Steve sings her a soft, quiet Happy Birthday and asks her to make a wish. They sit in bed all night, eating the cake with two forks in the same plate, wearing ridiculous party hats, as the lights surround them.

“Someday, we’re going to Paris, watch the lights, and eat some ridiculously expensive cake.” Steve announces.

Robin laughs, “All right. It’s a deal, Dingus.” She playfully puts out her pinky, and Steve laughs, looping his pinky into hers.

Steve gives her his gifts, an old pocket book for touring Europe and a black denim jacket, with sherpa collar. It has patches sewn all over it, carefully choosen and sewn together.

“Dude, did you make this!?” Steve laughs, shaking his head, no. “Well, I didn’t do everything. But I did this.” He takes the coat, flipping it inside out. In the right chest, just above the pocket is a rainbow sewn in patch.

“Steve.” She chokes out, hand shaking as she gently caresses the patch.

Steve smirks at her, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”

Robin laughs, “Stop being so creepy!”

They laugh.

It’s Robin’s best birthday ever.

It’s Robin Buckley’s first birthday with Steve Harrington.

It’s Robin Buckley’s last birthday with Steve Harrington.

Her schmuck, her bestfriend, her soulmate, her Steve. Just gone.

All she has left is money, clothes and a box she can’t even fucking open.

She storms his closet, greedy for anything that had even the smallest hint of his smell, that ridiculous hairspray and some kind of fucking wood that she can’t name. She takes a box out, takes that ridiculous yellow sweater he threw at Eddie. The same sweater they went back for, the same one he cried over, the same one he was clutching as he admitted feeling that hint of electricity with Eddie. She sees the denim vest neatly folded in the bottom of his closet, and Robin knows she needs to give it to Dustin or Wayne or to anyone but she shucks it to the box. She takes his letterman jacket, takes the stripes polo she always made fun of, took some of his old Hawkins shirts, she knows she can’t take everything. Max and Dustin and Erica would want some, but she wants everything she can take, anything that has a smidge left of Steve Harrington. She wants— no, she needs it. Because her bestfriend is just gone.

The moment her hand furls against the familiar fabric, tears fills her eyes. Robin has cried so much in the last twenty-five days that she should be empty, she should be all cried out. But the moment her hand touches the wine red sweater, she breaks, her knees buckling as she falls to the floor with a thud. She touches the sleeves, and something prickly touches her, she knows what it is. But the sight of the raindow pin still tucked in the sleeve makes her scream, a scream stuck between a sob and a wail, as she hugs the sweater closer, Steve’s ridiculous fucking perfume sweeping her nostrils.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Steve Harrington!” She sobs, she hears the door swinging open, and she’s not even sure who’s comforting her, who’s hugging her, but they’re also shaking, chest sobbing. Robin crumples the sweater to her chest, as close as she can as if it’ll squeeze out the essence of her bestfriend.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this without you, please, Steve."

Robin has never cried harder, she’s exhausted, her throat is hoarse, she hasn’t slept in the last twenty-five days and someone is holding her.

If she squeezes her eyes shot hard enough, holds the sweater close enough to smell and imagine. It’s just another day, just another day, she just woke up with a the worst nightmare and Steve is holding her in his familiar arms, lulling her back to sleep, to safety with his warmth.

Robin blacks out. It’s the first night she slept all through the night since Steve Harrington died.

Robin’s twentieth birthday is quiet. The kids, Nancy, Jon and Argyle baked her a cake. It’s not chocolate, but it tasted good. They sing, and Robin acts like she’s making a wish. She doesn't have the heart to tell them that no amount of candles, or birthday wishes, can ever bring back her wish. They watch more than three movies at the Wheeler basement, eat junk, eat cake and laugh, like there aren’t missing holes in their lives.

When the time comes, they all go home. Robin goes home, hangs her black denim jacket on the wall, and just like the days before the box on top of her desk taunts her. She hasn’t opened it yet, not that she knows where the key is. Her bestfriend only decided to be cryptic when he’s already six feet under the ground. Once, Dustin saw it and smiled at her, some kind of understanding flashing in his face, “You haven’t opened it too, huh?”

“How do you want me to open this, you fucking Dingus?” Robin whispers, shaking the box.

A thud makes her turn around, the hook where her jacket was hooked fell of the wall, leaving a dent and a few holes on the wall. Robin squints at it, the hook has been there since she was a child and has never went loose. She slowly moves closer to take the jacket off the floor, when she catches glimpse of the embroidered rainbow patch.

She smiles at it, slowly caressing it, and as if he’s just behind her, a whisper of voice in the back of her mind, “If you need anything, you will find the key here.”

“You fucking weirdo.” Robin laughs, tears starting to fill her eyes as she ransacks her room for a seam ripper. When she finds one, she’s laughing like a maniac as she tears a small part of it, not intending to remove the whole patch but just enough to take the key out. Robin squeezes just enough for the key to fall out. And there it is, in her hands, a small golden key.

She scrambles to reach for the box, falling to the floor as she tries to reach for it. She sits on the floor, criss-crossed as her hands shake and tears falls from her eyes. She opens the box.

It’s filled with white envelopes. A small note clipped on the lid:

If you’re opening this, I am sorry. I promise I am with you for every birthday. I tried my best to do as many as I can.

You are my soulmate, Robin Buckley. Maybe in some other universe, I will spend birthdays with you since day one. For this one, I hope this will do.

Happy Birthday. I love you.

- Dingus.

P.S. Go to Paris for the both of us, huh? Buy the most ridiculously expensive chocolate cake you can find.

Robin thumbs over the envelopes, numbering from 20 to 90. With shaky hands, she reaches for 20, gingerly opening it.

It’s a hallmark card, with three ice creams on the front. CONE-GRATULATIONS! It’s your birthday!

Robin chuckles as she opens it, her bestfriends familiar handwriting scribbled on the white card.

Happy 20th, Buckley! I hope to God you don’t get to read this card! I want to be there for your 20th and I sure as hell will be there!

In the off chance that you’re reading this, fuck, I am sorry. I must’ve done something stupid. I am sorry we don’t get to spend more birthdays together. I will be with you through a card every year.

I am so glad you were born, I was nothing without you.

Love you, Robs. Happy Birthday!

— Your schmuck, Steve Harrington

“And I am nothing without you, Steve Harrington.” She gasps, holding the card to her chest, sobs rocking her body as she slips into the red sweater she wears to bed every night.

She hasn’t washed it once and it barely smells like him anymore. She wonders when she’ll forget how he smelled like, wonders if she’ll ever find the perfect candle that smells just like him so she can light it up anytime she needs it, wonders if they’ll ever discontinue the Farrah Fawcet spray she uses in her hair even though she doesn’t need it.

Robin falls asleep with a card clutched in her hand and a sweater that barely smells like her bestfriend anymore.

Robin’s twenty-sixth birthday is when she finally goes to Paris.

She leaves everything in the hotel but the old pocket book Steve gave her and her 26th birthday card.

She buys the most expensive chocolate cake she can find, asks for two forks and finds a sit just in front the bright Eiffel Tower.

She opens her card, laughs, cries, and thinks about what Steve could have been doing beside her right now. Golden hair, brown wide eyes, and toothy smile, in a wine red sweater and a scarf around his neck.

She eats her cake. It’s good. But the best chocolate cake she’s ever had was in a bed, in a bedroom filled with lights, eaten with two forks in one plate.

She clutches her coat closer, the wine red sweater keeping her warm, like it always has in the past six years.

She opens the forgotten pocket book. The one Steve gave her on her nineteenth birthday. She’s never opened it, never wanted to face the fact that she’s going alone. The cover is battered, the pages yellowing as she flips the book slowly.

A single piece of picture falls from it. It lands face down. Robin can recognize the handwriting from anywhere.

“This is 12 year old Steve in front of the Eiffel Tower! In a few years, it’ll be you and me! Happy nineteenth birthday, Robs! P.S. Don’t mind the flower! I got it from a friend! Didn’t want to remove it because it’s really old and dry.”

Robin flips the picture, and there he was. Golden hair, brown eyes, and toothy smile. The same boy she played with, but in front of the same tower she’s in front of right now.

A single dried daisy is taped on the corner.

Robin laughs, smiling with tears at the picture.

Way before they both realized, way before they even properly met, way before they scooped ice creams together, way before blood and drugs made them close.

Way before everything, there were two kids, who played together in a park, daisies weaved into their hairs.

Robin Buckley spent her favorite birthday, her best birthday, and will continue to spend the rest of her birthdays with her soulmate.

Because even beyond the grave, her soulmate will never let her celebrate alone.

Steve Harrington will be there, one way or another.

(again, i am very sorry. if it helps u feel better i can barely see through the tears while writing this)

#wine red sweater is the sweater steve was wearing when he dropped of dustin to the snow ball #stobin forever <33333 #my favorite platonic soulmates.#dae writes #daeheadcanons #stranger things headcanons #stranger things fic #stobin headcanon #stobin my favorite platonic soulmates #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie headcanon #steddie #stranger things #tw major character death #tw mcd

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tastytoecheese · 2 years

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From Will byers secret files. Its a cute book but pretty sad too

#stranger things #will byers #will byers supremacy #i love will byers #will byers deserves better #will deserves better #byler #stranger things 2 #snow ball

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katimanki · 10 months

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Lesbyler at 6, 12 and 22 🌈

#byler #lesbyler #my lesbyler ramblings:#willow and trans fem michelle #💕#ted and karen got michelle boys' toys but she was more interested in bugs and other forest creatures.#instead she let willow play with them when they were playing outside #the wooden sword was willows favourite because she could be a knight #they both hated the snow ball. willow got one of nancy's dresses to wear and she hated it #at 22 they're graduating college and more in love than ever #michelle started transitioning at around 19/20 after getting out of the wheeler's house #she always thought she couldn't get the girl she wanted :(((#stranger things #shitbyme

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llamahearted · 2 years

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most of vol2 felt like cheap emotional punches but when El appeared to Max in that middle school gymnasium I was inconsolable. teen girls forever

#max mayfield #elmax #stranger things 4 vol 2 #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanart #stranger things spoilers #i cannot think about how the snow ball memory and eleven saving her is the last thing she saw without ejecting myself into space #im so glad this show decided to have them be best friends i was so mad at the Ewww Two Girls dynamic in s2

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hawkyon-days · 7 months

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It's so funny to me how lumax is one of the best canon pairings and almost definitely endgame, but they are broken up and not even together most of the time

#stranger things #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #lumax #they ARE the best couple to me. but they're also broken up more than they are together #their most romantic interactions were the snow ball and the silent conversation they had at the end of s4 #and we all know how that ended #my post

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hawkinsmodeloff · 1 year

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Who’s the Prettiest Ch. in Stranger Things? - 2.3

Snow Ball Girl vs Jazzercize Guy

“She’s just really cute okay and if I was there I would dance with her.”

“I mean. Come on.”

#hawkins model off #round 2 #snow ball girl vs starcourt jazzercize guy #stranger things #stranger things poll #stranger things polls #st poll #st polls #st #polls #snow ball girl #starcourt jazzercize guy #contestants are picked to go against each other with a randomizer

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entelodontidae · 8 months

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Word Parallels in Stranger Things

These are just ones I’ve noticed so far!

——————————————————

You don’t love me?

Its bullshit.

Nancy to Steve, S2 E2

It’s romantic.

Its bullshit.

Max and Dustin commenting on Mike and El, S3 E1

——————————————————

Lucas to Max, S4 E4

“I thought we lost you.”

Joyce to Hopper, S4 E?

“Thought I lost you.”

Mike to Will, S4 E4

“Maybe I feel like I lost you or something.”

——————————————————

Mike to Will, S4 E4

“Thanks, by the way. For knocking some sense into me, I was being a total self pitying idiot.”

Steve to Nancy, S4 E9

“I think like, right out of the gate, I’m super confident. But I’m also, like, an idiot. … Thank you, for giving my head the biggest thump of its life.”

——————————————————

“Holy shit. What happened to you?” Mike to Dustin, s2 e9

“Holy shit! What happened to you?” Richie to Ben, IT(2017)

——————————————————

“I can do anything, I’m the chief of police.”

Brody, Jaws

“I’m the chief of police, I can do anything.”

Hopper, s3

——————————————————

“That sounds nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Nancy to Steve, S4 E7

“El needs you Mike, and she always will.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Will to Mike, S4 E7

——————————————————

“So, he asked you to take me home?”

“Yeah, I mean, he was really upset.”

Nance to Jonathan, S2 E3

“I mean… she [El] told me what to draw. She commissioned it, basically.”

Will to Mike, S4 E8

——————————————————

I knew you were acting weird. I just thought it was because of Will.” Nancy, s1

“I thought you were acting weird. I thought it was because of Steve.” Mike, s1

——————————————————

Mike to El, s3

“You said nana was sick.” El

“She is-“ Mike, gestures for Lucas to play along

“She is, super sick.” Lucas

“That’s why we were here, actually-“ Mike

Followed by breakup

Mike to Will, s3

“Fine. You guys win. I’m going home.” - Will

“No- no we want to keep playing, right?” Mike, gets Lucas to play along

“Uh- yeah.” Lucas

“We were just joking around, let’s finish the campaign for real.” Mike

Followed by fight

——————————————————

“I feel like I’m losing my mind”

“Not anymore than I am”

Hopper and Joyce, S3 E3

“Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Me, too.”

“Hey, well, if we’re both going crazy, we’ll go crazy together, right?”

“Yeah. Crazy together.”

Mike to Will, S2 E2

“Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart, and that damn stupid.”

Flo to Nancy, S2e6-8?

“You know, they do say it (love) makes you crazy.”

Mike to El, s3e7?

These might all just be coincidence, but it’s still fun to point them out!

#byler #I swear if they just disregard wills feelings for mike in s5 #I will write my own script #crazy together #in Ferris buellers the Restaurant Chez Luis has the same music as Enzo’s #and the snow ball’s music is in the prom in napoleon dynamite #stranger things theory #stranger things #stranger things thoughts #stranger things parallels #stranger things 5 #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #will byers #mike wheeler #stranger things dialogue

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emblazons · 1 year

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Started reading the comments on the now infamous reddit poll (as someone who was just watching the stuff go down lmao) and was honestly delighted by some of the commentary from people who admitted they didn't ship byler because...well.

"I understand why mlvn would leave a bad taste in your mouth after what they did to Will to accomplish it. Now all I think of when I see them is gay suffering"

"I don't know why they would have will fall in love with Mike the season before the last if he was going to get rejected"

"They keep giving Mike & El these problems and they're kind of irritating to watch at this point"

"if they intended us to support the main couple I have no idea what they were intending by doing that"

"I don't understand why they forced two 12 year olds to fall in love. It feels very shoe-horned in"

....maybe I underestimated a fair amount of redditor media literacy, because it sounds like they understand EXACTLY what's going on—

—they're just uninterested/upset in logical conclusion as to why someone might do those things as a writer because it means something they don't like is gonna happen instead. The loud and ignorant (and wrong) mlvn side just likes to yell and pretend it means everyone "agrees" with them when really they're just silent.

#byler #< target audience #anti mlvn #the fact that mlvn lost first and people are saying its just byler tumblrs fault when these people exist...lol #its encouraging as someone who loves stranger things as a whole and isn't just trying to 'prove byler'#like? the duffer did a good job making you hate them...and that was the point #they did what they intended to do lmfaoooo #at least. what matt duffer fully intended since he saw y'all romanticize the snow ball LOL #st commentary #my st commentary #stranger things #st reddit

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multifandomimagines · 1 year

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All I Want for Christmas - A Steve Harrington Imagine

Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 3410

Summary: The annual Christmas-themed Hawkins Middle School dance is fast approaching, but while they should be volunteering, Steve and the Reader spend their time with each other instead.

Warnings: Slight swearing, suggestive ending + angst - topics surrounding a previous breakup, as well as a mention of a bad relationship with parents.

Written by: Jasper

A/N: we’re back!!! we missed you guys SO much. i absolutely LOVED writing for steve and stranger things! our requests are always open, so if you love this as much as i loved writing it (as well as any of our other posts), please please please check out our requests post and send over your requests! merry christmas and happy holidays! <3

p.s. peep our new feature that we’ll sometimes be adding to our works! listen after or while you’re reading for the full experience 👀 ⤵️

Soundtrack: ‘Snow On The Beach’ by Taylor Swift ft. Lana Del Rey 🌨️

Disclaimer: GIF isn’t ours - credit to whoever it belongs to.

Snow Ball, 1984.

Given everything that happened a month ago, Y/N should have felt elated to go and help out at the school dance; to act like everything was okay just for a night, to feel normal again, but she surprisingly felt quite the opposite. She begged and pleaded, more than she ever had in her whole life, to just stay home, but her mother refused with a swift, “You’ll regret it when you’re older.”

“She’s making me go,” Y/N whispered over the phone, peering around the corner to make sure her mother wasn’t eavesdropping from the living room.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” Steve Harrington’s voice came through the ear speaker. Her and the once snobby rich boy formed an unusual bond after last month’s troubling events. Going through something as traumatic as that certainly ties you to someone for life, and she guessed that was what ultimately made them become the best of friends so quickly. They came to each other for everything since then, and she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t formed a crush on him that first night… But he was just out of a heart-wrenching breakup, so she (as hard as it may be) kept quiet as to not make him feel uncomfortable or ruin their budding friendship, which meant so much to her already. “I guess it could be kind of nice for you…”

“Jesus Christ, not you too—” she rolled her eyes, aggressively leaning into the wall.

“I’m just saying,” his voice was muffled through the phone, seemingly because he put it between his ear and shoulder. “you haven’t been the same since… everything…”

“Of course I haven’t, Steve… Who would?” Y/N answered, frustration and impatience apparent in her voice. He stayed quiet, prompting her to remember all the times he has acted as if nothing had ever even happened, “Well, not everyone can be Mr. Perfect Steve Harrington who-ignores-all-his-problems.”

“I think we’ve established that no one thinks I’m Mr. Perfect,” he chuckled insincerely, hinting at what had happened between him and Nancy Wheeler a month prior. The two had gone through a rather nasty breakup— the boy was devastated, seemingly never quite moving on. The girl, however, moving on not even a couple days later, contributing greatly to Steve’s heartbreak.

I do, Y/N so desperately wanted to say, but instead she kept quiet, an awkward silence falling over the two them.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what,” Steve said, cutting through the quiet tension. “I’m taking Dustin to the dance— why don’t I come around, pick you up too, you can make yourself look all pretty or whatever, and then you can sorta lie to your mom; act like you’re going to the dance, but in reality, you’re just hanging out with me.”

“Are you asking me to the dance, Harrington?” Y/N laughed, trying to make Steve flustered. “And did you just call me pretty?”

“Technically, I’m asking you to ditch the dance and hangout with me instead,” he replied, making no mention of the pretty comment.

After a moment of thinking, “Fine. But you have to stay in the car, I don’t need my parents asking you any weird questions— we all know you’re awful at lying.”

“Deal.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

The night of the Snow Ball fast approached, and before Y/N knew it, the night had arrived. For hours beforehand, she had hastily gotten ready, trying to make herself look absolutely perfect. She wasn’t exactly certain why— sure, she had a crush on Steve and she would have made herself look nice for him anyways, but she wasn’t attending the dance, so was it really necessary to make herself so dance-ready? Picking out shoes that would be perfect for dancing, even picking out a flowy dress perfect for dancing?

“Y/N! Your date is here!” the girl’s mother called from the living room. “Is that really what he’s wearing to the dance?!”

“For the last time, Mom, he’s not technically my date…” Y/N answered, hurriedly rushing past her unbothered father sitting in his recliner, grabbing her bag off the coat hanger and opening the door. “Also it’s 1984, don’t judge other people’s attire. Bye, love you!”

“Is he not coming to meet us?—” was the last thing she heard before abruptly closing the door behind her, practically running to Steve’s car in the process.

She jumped in the backseat, “Step on it— Oh, hey, Dustin! I almost didn’t recognize you.”

The younger boy sat in the passenger, looking small in comparison to the older boy in the driver’s seat. His outfit was the epitome of the 1980s, puffy hair, bow tie and all. She wondered briefly if Steve had helped him get ready or if Dustin had done this all on his own. She looked over to Steve as Dustin greeted her, her attentiveness dying out instantly, no longer hearing a word the younger boy was saying.

Steve’s eyes were on her, and by the looks of it, they seemed to have been on her. The air between them suddenly felt on edge like never before— the way he looked at her made her heart hammer faster and faster against her ribcage; so loud that there was surely no way the other two couldn’t have heard it. His eyes sparkled in the dimming light as he took deep breaths, clearly mesmerized— well, until Dustin’s growing voice and finger snapping cut through the tension, “HELLO?! You two are going to make me late! Stare at each other later, it’s already getting dark!”

Steve pulled himself together first, slapping Dustin playfully on the arm, “We weren’t staring, smartass. OKAY, OKAY! I’m driving! Jesus Christ, you’re such a—”

But Y/N never really pulled herself together. The whole car ride to the dance was a blur, she didn’t even truly hear what the other two were saying. All she could focus on was the memory of his eyes on her, the look on his face, and the way she absolutely melted underneath his gaze. She was oddly quiet the rest of the ride, and Steve noticed— his eyes frequently shifting to the rearview mirror above him to glimpse back at her.

Quickly, she realized that the Hawkins Middle School building was emerging ahead of them; street lights and traffic finally snapping her out of her trance. Sitting up straight and leaning forward, she rested her forearms on the center console as Steve pulled the car around front, directly adjacent of the entrance doors. People streamed into the building in mostly pairs, all dressed head to toe in formal attire.

“All right, buddy, here we are…” Steve’s voice cut through the silence. Both him and Dustin looked to the doors, Dustin’s lingering on them a bit longer than Steve’s. “So, remember, once you get in there…”

Dustin looked back to Steve, nervousness somewhat apparent on his face. “Pretend like I don’t care.”

“You don’t care,”

“I don’t care.”

“There you go. You’re learning, my friend. You’re learning.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ— are you actually teaching him that?!” Y/N scoffed in disbelief, interrupting the other two’s somewhat heartfelt conversation, laughter choking out from her throat.

“What do you know?” Steve replied, turning around in his seat to directly look at her for the first time since the start of the journey. His brazen gaze softened the moment his eyes landed on hers.

“I know that acting like you don’t care makes you look like an asshole—”

Dustin reached for the rearview mirror as the older two playfully argued (which was such a common occurrence at this point, to which everyone else just simply ignored) and snapping it rather hastily in his direction.

Steve looked back at the sudden noise, “Hey—”

“What?” Dustin replied, still glancing anxiously at himself in the mirror above him.

Steve grabbed the mirror from Dustin, pulling it back into his direction, “Come on, you look great, okay? You look— you look great.”

Dustin assured Steve that he was hearing what he was saying, but it seemed more like assurance to himself than anyone else. He more or less looked like he was about to cry— he looked frightened, almost as if he wished he could just stay in the car forever and never have to step foot through those daunting doors.

“Dustin, take it from a girl, okay?” Y/N said, reassuring the terrified younger boy. Steve smiled to himself. “You genuinely look amazing. How about you save me a dance for when we pick you up later, yeah?”

Dustin nodded, signifying he was listening despite him looking to the floor.

“Okay, you’re gonna go in there…” Steve said.

“Yeah…”

“Look like a million bucks—”

“Yeah,”

“And you’re gonna slay ‘em dead.”

“Like a lion,” Dustin replied, a newfound confidence in his voice. Suddenly, his mouth opened and a purring noise came out, issuing both Y/N and Steve to nervously glance at each other.

“Yeah… don’t do that, okay?” Steve said as Dustin stared back at him, doe-eyed.

“Okay,”

Steve reached out a loving hand to him, “Good luck.”

Dustin took it, a slight smile on his face. He nodded, turned, then exited the car. Both Steve and Y/N watched as Dustin walked into the building hesitantly, but more confidently as he started to speak to someone that Y/N couldn’t see. Then, awkward silence washed over them as they both watched through the doors, neither of them saying a single word to another.

She looked to Steve out of her peripheral, realizing that he had spotted something, a relatively distressed look apparent on his face, unalike the smile he had merely moments before.

“Steve?” she said gently, worrying what she would see if she put herself at his level. “You okay?”

After he didn’t answer, she leaned forward, eyes instantly falling on Nancy Wheeler. She looked absolutely beautiful, talking and laughing with attendees as they came to her for a cup of punch. Steve visibly didn’t know that Nancy was volunteering tonight— the thought of going from knowing everything about someone, to knowing nothing, appeared to hurt him greatly. She was happy, which must have pained Steve even more— he hadn’t seemed genuinely happy himself in so long. But knowing Steve, Y/N knew that it was bittersweet to him— he was happy that Nancy was happy, and to him, that’s all that really, truly mattered.

Turning away, hiding the pang of jealousy and hurt that she felt by this, Y/N acted as if she hadn’t seen what he was looking at. Instead, she hopped up into the passenger seat next to him, minding her dress, and looked over at him. She was now unknowingly blocking his view of Nancy, yet he didn’t really mind it. Honestly… he grew to like it better this way.

Y/N was always there for him; she was there through the thick of last month, saving his ass that night more than he cared to admit. She was there through the aftermath of the breakup; all the times he tried to hide his tears from her in fear that she would make fun of him, yet she never did. She’d even let him stay over on nights that his parents made him so furious he couldn’t even be in the same house as them. She was there through it all, yet Nancy hardly did the same. Y/N was better for him, and he was finally starting to realize it.

“You okay?” the girl asked again sincerely, her eyes glistening in the low light as she watched him closely.

The boy exhaled and looked away, shook his head, more so to himself than her, and shifted his gear from parked to driving, “For the first time in awhile, I’m okay.”

He drove around the side of the school and parked. The parking lot was now deserted of other people despite the amount of vehicles that resided in spots, their owners clearly dancing the night away inside the building, abandoned until hours later.

The two of them exited the car, walking around and taking a seat on the back. That seemed to be one of the things they did these days; parking off somewhere and sitting on the hood or trunk and having deep conversations. Y/N cherished those perfect moments, she was sure she cherished them a bit more than Steve did considering her feelings, but nonetheless, she was sure he adored them too, even if not the same way she did.

“You sure you’re okay? You looked pretty… blindsided back there—” Y/N hesitantly said, shifting her position to look at him. She feared he would be upset with her for bringing it up again. She braced for a sarcastic remark… but none ever came.

He looked back up, his dark hair falling over his forehead in pieces. He looked so innocently back at her, no sign of hurt or annoyance at her question. His voice was gentle, “More than okay.”

She chuckled, “Well, that’s a start. Why the change of heart?”

“You, actually.” He replied, his voice soft, unlike she’s ever heard it before. “It’s always been you.”

Her breathing shallowed, her heart beginning to palpitate. Was he meaning what she thought he was? Or was she simply looking too far into it? “I don’t understand—”

“You know,” he begin. “I can’t remember the last time Nancy asked me if I was okay, or simply cared if I was, if I’m being honest.”

Y/N simply sat and listened, not daring to say a single word or make him lose his train of thought.

“It was always me asking her if she was okay, always only caring about her and her well-being. I lost sight of myself and how I was doing, all just to make her happy… but I never got it in return.” he continued, looking out at the empty parking lot, remembering memories that he was trying so hard the past few weeks to forget. “I mean, I don’t blame her. She’s always had her own shit going on. I don’t know— I guess what I’m trying to say is… it’s been nice having someone care about me for once. You know, ask how I’m doing and all that shit. Maybe all this time I’ve just been focusing on someone who never really wanted me in the first place, while someone who’s been there for me since day one was getting the short end of the stick.”

“Steve—” Y/N began to say, the words dying out in her throat. Her comforting hand came to rest atop his beside them, their fingers slightly intertwining. Her eyes scanned his face, looking for any sign of hesitation or regret. Yet, there was none…

“You’re beautiful,” Steve spoke delicately, looking up from their embracing hands to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.”

“We still have time.” she smiled, squeezing his hand a bit tighter. She dreamt of this moment for so long, yet when it finally came, she felt as if she couldn’t speak properly; all the words she imagined saying to him died out in her throat the moment it was finally happening. It wasn’t just a dream this time— it was real life.

“I’m sorry— Jesus Christ, I haven’t even asked how you feel—” he backtracked, shaking his head, frustrated with himself. “I just assumed—”

“Are you kidding, Steve?” Y/N replied as he looked to her nervously. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He smiled, relief washing over his face in waves. This was atypical for Steve Harrington— not only the anxiousness he exuded in those few moments, but also the way he poured his entire heart out. Y/N was sure he must have done it with Nancy; he’d even done it with other topics to Y/N, but never in this way. Never so vulnerable— she figured that was the perfect word to describe it: Vulnerable.

Steve had changed so much over the past month. He was broken and bruised (even quite literally at one point), so much that it changed him. He was worried that Y/N didn’t feel the same— he had always just assumed Nancy did, but that didn’t turn out well for him now, did it? No, he needed to be absolutely sure this time.

“Y/N, are you sure?” Steve asked, glancing back at her hand atop his. “I can’t go through it again…”

Her lips met his, gently but urgently, washing away all of the doubts and insecurities swirling around in his head. In that moment, he forgot about Nancy wholeheartedly, forgot about every bad thing that had ever happened to him, even forgetting how him and Y/N got to this point. The only thing that mattered was the destination; her lips were soft moving against his, her hands caressing his skin in innocent places that she’d never touched him before.

Steve’s fingers came up to lace through her hair delicately, pulling her closer than ever. He ached to feel her nearer to him, to embrace her wholly, after so long of not knowing what that felt like.

He pulled away first, cold air replacing the heat of where his lips were mere seconds previously. Her senses on high alert, Y/N realized the music from inside the building could be faintly heard, interrupting the quiet of the dark, abandoned lot. Every Breath You Take was vaguely audible, the vibe of the dance changing drastically. She imagined the dance attendees slow dancing with another, taking the opportunity to kiss and be close to each other.

Steve jumped off the back of the car, held out a hand to her and said, “You didn’t think I’d let you come to a dance without making you dance with me, did you?”

She chuckled, smiling to herself, happiness overtaking her for the first time in awhile, “Not letting Dustin get the first dance with me, huh?”

“Never in a million years,” Steve joked. “you’re mine now.”

“I could get used to that…” Y/N flirted, taking his outstretched hand in hers.

The two found themselves embracing, slow dancing, spinning, playfully joking, until it got comfortably quiet between them. They basked in each other’s presence, feeling happier than they’ve felt in a long while. It was hard to imagine this any other way— it felt as if it had been this way between them forever.

She rested her head atop his shoulder, pulling him close and wrapping her arms around him. They both shut their eyes, the comfortable silence giving way to the song faintly coming to an end inside of the school. The moment felt bittersweet— both of them wishing it could last forever.

After a long pause, Y/N opened her eyes first, noticing that the scenery had slightly changed around them. A thin white sheet covered the ground and the cars residing in their respective spots, white flakes falling gently out of the sky.

“Steve—” she spoke, lightly backing out from his embrace. She glanced around them, “It’s snowing.”

He opened his eyes, both of them immediately landing on her, not bothering to even look out at the snow. As cheesy as it sounded in his head, she was more beautiful than anything nature could possibly do, and he didn’t want to miss her most of all.

He tucked a snow covered strand of hair out of her face, making her look to him. A smile formed on her mouth as his lips met hers for a second time, snow falling all around them like minuscule, twinkling stars.

“Hey…” Steve whispered, lips resting against Y/N’s. “How about we go back to my place? Pick Dustin up in a couple hours, yeah?”

“Mhm,” she replied, grinning, finally opening her eyes to meet his once again. “hey, wait— what happened to acting like you don’t care?”

Steve, remembering the advice he had just given Dustin less than a half an hour before, snickered, “Yeah, well, that was minutes ago— I’m a changed man now.”

She laughed, making a face at him as they got back into his car. They drove off to his house as Christmas music played vaguely over the radio, hands tenderly held near the stick shift, stealing glances at each other on well-lit streets.

As it turned out, her mother had been right in someway all along; Y/N would have regretted this night for the rest of her life if she hadn’t gone. As much as she hated to admit it, school dances, or lack thereof, turned out to not be so bad after all.

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