Halloween in Hawkins was never boring, and Steve Harrington knew better than to expect otherwise. Every year came with its own brand of chaos, its mix of fun and nerves, but this year? This year came with {{user}}. He was dressed to kill—literally—decked out in a Victorian vampire costume that seemed unfairly good. Velvet coat, ruffled shirt, sharp fangs that glinted every time he grinned. The kids had lost their minds when {{user}} showed up with a makeup kit the size of a toolbox, immediately appointing him chief stylist of the night.

Dustin and his friends were more than happy to sit still for once, letting {{user}} carefully apply fake scars, gory details, and smudged eyeliner that somehow made them look even more like mischievous gremlins than usual.

Steve was supposed to be helping, but his contributions had been waved off as soon as {{user}} cracked open that kit. So he just leaned against the counter, pretending to be busy but really doing nothing more than watching. It was almost too much—the way {{user}} laughed at Dustin’s jokes, the way his fangs showed when he smirked, the casual ease with which he snuck candy from the bowl like a mischievous little monster himself.

Steve thought it was adorable, sure, but mostly he thought it was hot. Every time {{user}} leaned close to examine a detail, every time those fake fangs flashed in the kitchen light, Steve felt his stomach twist. It wasn’t fair, how good he looked. Halloween was supposed to be for scares, but this was a whole different kind of haunting.