#Nancy C. Weeks

[seat-safety-switch]

There's a diner near me that is really mad about all the construction. This shouldn't be a surprise to everyone, because the natural enemy of any small business owner is "literally anything." Turns out that the big wigs at City Hall callously decided that they should repair the sidewalk in front of the diner, so that little old ladies don't trip and bust their heads open on their way to buy a $19 brunch.

Now, any normal person would simply shrug and accept that it's going to be a little inconvenient to eat there for a couple of weeks. Not these folks, who immediately flew off the handle and demanded the resignation and/or ritual suicide of their city councillor. Then the councillors of the adjacent ridings. Then the mayor. By the time they were done screaming at every politician they could find up to and including on the International Space Station (which has an informal "mayor" astronaut onboard at all times, due to historical precedent) they were out of legal options. It was time for them to get dirty.

I took the contract, of course. Being a freelance shithead has become really easy since the advent of the internet. Used to be, you'd have to make a name for yourself being a sort of apprentice henchperson, before you could really do all the serious henching. Now, if your website is nice enough, you can jump right to the head of the class. I had my friend XHTML Nancy put it together for me. She's really good at making the little CSS animations of me beating a bookie half to death with a blackjack.

My job was to get revenge on the local councillor, by stealing their car. Now, I'm not one of those folks who would ordinarily mess with anyone else's vehicle. Cars are a unique expression of one's innermost personality, and have natural virtue on their own regardless of your opini– hot goddamn, a Mercedes C-class? You might as well just drive a taxi to work. Anyway, I hotwired that shit, but then quickly realized I don't know how to drive an automatic transmission. I ended up leaving it in "R," for "revenge," at which point the car made a scary noise, that in retrospect was probably a working stereo (I am also unfamiliar with this concept.) In fear, I hopped out of the car, only to watch it careen across the parking lot, jump a sidewalk, and then smash directly into the window of the diner across the street.

I still got paid – the rent-a-thug platform is very serious about either settling your bill or getting a bad rating – but things worked out in the end. I'm told that after all the commotion, the city's construction worker union refused to work at an unsafe job site and just left a giant, empty pit where the sidewalk used to be in front of the diner. Every morning, the councillor goes over and inspects it. That's some good foot traffic. I bet he can afford the $25 mimosa platter, too.

[raven-dor]

i'll be watching you

in which steve harrington can’t stop thinking about the one girl who believed in him

PAIRING: steve harrington x fem!reader, dustin henderson x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, realization, ANGST ANGST ANGST, nostalgia, hurt/comfort, CRAZY amounts of yearning, obliviousness

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

🎶 : every breath you take - the police

AN: 🩵💛💗♥️ - this hurt to write... enjoy!! (also the 'present' is the mid 90's, so Steve and you are in your late 20's)

Steve was utterly confused. First, he decides, of his own volition, to apologize to Jonathan Wheeler. Then, he knocks on the boy’s door to find Y/N, panic evident in her expression and her hand bleeding. 

He bursts in, worried about her safety, to then find that his girlfriend is also there, with a gun pointed at his face.

He was then dragged through the Wheeler’s house away from some sort of creature before finally being ushered out by Y/N, her words haunting him as he opened the car door. “I don’t want you wrapped up in this, Steve. Just leave it alone.” 

Why would she care? And why could she be involved, but not him? No, Steve thought to himself as he grabbed his bat, she could not go through this alone. (He would later reference this moment as the second his feelings for her grew past friendship.) Screams rang through the Byers property, and Steve burst through the door once more, swinging his bat and slamming the monster square in the face. 

Y/N was on the floor, grinning wildly at the boy before her. “Steve!” He ran over, extending his hand and pulling her into his arms. “What are you-” 

“Don’t tell me to leave it alone ever again.” He whispered.

She nodded, hugging him tightly. “Fine.” 

A cough interrupted their moment, and they pulled apart, remembering where they were. Y/N laughed, nudging the King of Hawkins lightly. “You’re quite the hero.” 

A chill ran down his spine, and he clenched his eyes shut. She made him crazy sometimes.

Steve groaned, shoving his face further into his pillow. Not again, he thought. This had been the third time this week he’d woke up this early. Every time it was the same, it was almost like he was going back in time, his dreams exactly as they had been in real life. 

And every time it revolved around her. 

He rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Why couldn’t he have a dream about puppies or his dream job?

His alarm clock rang, and his heart dropped. “Shit!” Jumping out of bed, he sprinted to the bathroom, fixing his hair as best he could in two minutes.

His real shift at his very real job started in ten minutes.

“Y/N!” 

God, she forgot how dismal this gym could be. All the horrible memories of middle school gym class came rushing back. Over by the locker room is where Tracy C. tripped her ‘on accident.’ The bleachers were where she’d sit when she wasn’t picked for dodgeball. 

And by the exit door was where she would secretly cheer for Steve as he played basketball. 

She was sure some of these kids, at least the ones she knew, had had the same happen to them. The doors to the gym opened for the hundredth time, Dustin Henderson walking through with what Y/N could only identify as a Steve Harrington special. 

She waved at the boy, smiling brightly as he walked across the gym to meet her.

She hoped he hadn’t seen her space out.

“Are you okay?” 

So he had. Y/N smiled, nodding. “Of course I am, now that you’re here.” He blushed. “You look very handsome, Dustin.” 

“Thank you.” He grinned. “Steve helped me.” 

“Really?” She smiled, laughing to herself. “That’s really nice of him.” 

“We’re friends now!” Dustin was still grinning. “He drove me here.” 

Her eyes darted toward the entrance, and the young boy’s face fell ever so slightly. “He said he doesn’t want to come in because…” He motioned for Y/N to lean down, whispering in her ear. “Because of Nancy.” 

Of course, how could she forget about Nancy? She loved her friend, but her heart ached to think about Steve’s undying love for her. “Ah.” She locked her lips, figuratively throwing away the key. “Your secret is safe with-” 

“Henderson.” 

She looked up, locking eyes with Steve’s instantly. He was beautiful in that color, she realized. It brought out the gold in his eyes.

“Wow.” Steve smiled shyly, rubbing a hand on his neck. “You-” 

“Are you kidding me?” He murmured as his eyes peeled open. 

This had to stop. 

He already deeply regretted his life choices, and now he couldn’t even escape them in sleep. He drove to work grumpily, parked his car grumpily, and stood at the Family Video counter grumpily. Robin laughed, shaking her head. 

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” 

He glared, sticking his tongue out. “Good morning to you too, Robin.” 

“You’ve been pissy lately,” Robin said it like it was a fact like everyone in Hawkins had been talking about it. “What’s up, Harrington?” 

“I-” He couldn’t tell Robin, she would never let him live this down. No, this was the type of thing you kept to yourself, driving yourself crazy until- “Just had a rough night.” 

“Okay.” Her shoulders deflated, grabbing the cart full of VHS tapes. “Let me know when you want to tell the truth.” 

“Shit, shit shit.” Y/N’s eyes were glassy as she clung to Steve’s side, supporting him as he walked. “Why’d you have to be the hero?” 

“That’s part of my-” He winced, laughing as her face grew even more worried. “Part of my charm, babe.” 

Y/N ignored the way her cheeks flushed, leaning him against the giant boulder. “Just be quiet.”

He nodded, leaning his head back in pain. “No problem.” 

“Really?” She scoffed, muttering thanks as Robin handed her cloth to wrap around his (chiseled) abdomen. “You scared me, you know.” 

Her voice was soft, much softer than normal. It sounded weak; scared even. He frowned, reaching out and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t mean to.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Well, you did, Harrington.”

“Can you just-” He sighed. “Can you look at me? You haven’t met my eyes since you’ve gotten down here.” 

She shook her head, trying her best to wipe away the dirt from his gaping wound. “I really hope this doesn’t get infected.” 

“Y/N, come on.” He smiled, forcing himself not to cry out in pain. “Look at me.” 

“I think Eddie’s-” Robin received a hard glare from Steve, and she nodded, walking away without another word. 

Her face felt hot, eyes watery as she looked up at him. He grinned, whispering so that only they could hear. “There she is.”

“Here I am.” She whispered back, tears falling down her cheeks freely. “Now can I-” 

“I’m so mad at you right now.” 

Her head cocked to the side. “What?” She must have misheard him. 

“You heard me.” His tone was tense, but his eyes told a different story. “I said to stay in the boat, didn’t I? Don’t follow after me.” He scoffed, flailing his arms, pain ringing through his aching muscles. “And what did you do? You followed me.” 

“As opposed to what? Watching helplessly as you were dragged into hell?” She stood up, glaring. “Would you rather have died down here?” More tears fell as she stared, hissing at him so the others couldn’t hear. “You don’t have to do everything alone!” 

“I know that-” 

“Then why can’t I follow after you? Huh?” She glared. “You’re not the boss of-” 

“I didn’t want you wrapped up in this!” He yelled, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin jumping at the sound. “You should’ve left it alone.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, last I checked, I was involved first.” She yelled back. “Now shut up so I can fix you.” She knelt again, tying the cloth Robin gave her earlier gently around him. An uncomfortable silence fell over them before she spoke once more. “Just be careful, alright? I can’t do this without you.” 

“Y/N…” His eyes were watering, from the pain or what she said, he couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry.” 

“Good.” She wiped the dirt from her hands. “I’m sorry too, I guess.” She stood up, muttering. “Even though I have no reason to apologize.” 

He laughed, reaching out for her hold. “Could I-” 

“Yes! Yeah, of course.” His arm expertly laid around her shoulders, and in another life, they could have walked through Hawkins High like this. “Please stop acting like the hero. I can’t bear it.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes full of desperation, and his heart skipped. Shit. “Yeah.” 

He nodded, kissing her temple gently. “Whatever you want, babe.” 

“Hey!” Eddie’s voice interrupted whatever was happening between them. “Why don’t you take a break? I can take care of Harrington for a bit.” 

“Are you sure?” Y/N frowned, not even bothering to look at her best friend, still staring up at Steve with that dangerous look in her eyes. “I really don’t mind.” 

“Y/N.” Steve whispered. “You’ve done enough for me to last a lifetime. I’ll be okay.” 

She looked hurt, but let go of Steve regardless. “Alright, he’s all yours, Munson.” 

Eddie waited until she was by Robin and Nancy to speak. “She was the first one to dive in after you.”

Steve smiled. “Really?”

Eddie nodded. “You know she likes you, right?” 

“I know.” He laughed as he watched her jump on Robin’s back. “I like her too.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie placed a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Just, don’t hurt her, okay? She seems strong, but…” 

“I won’t.” Steve was so confident in it, so sure. “I would never do anything to hurt her.” 

His latest dream had thrown him for a loop. Eddie, a man he was never close with in school, died hours after that. God, he thought as he ran through the streets of his neighborhood, that had been the last time he’d talked to the metalhead. 

His shower was cold, and not because he forgot to pay the water bill. He’d made it cold on purpose, maybe this was how he would stop having these dreams. 

Lately, they felt closer to nightmares. This one, in particular, had reminded him of how close they'd been, of how hard Y/N had taken it when Eddie had died. It had never been the right time to ask her, he kept telling himself, even after she left, and he stayed. 

'Never the right time' had been his downfall. 

Work had been the same, a mother asking for a children’s movie, a teenager who was obviously not old enough to rent an R-rated movie asking where they could find one, and an older couple asking for Gone With The Wind. The door rang for the fourth time that day, and he recited the same old boring greeting. “Welcome to Family Video, do you need-” He looked up, his breath catching in his throat. 

It couldn’t be. 

“It’s been a while, Harrington.” She laughed, and his heart fluttered. God, her laugh was still the most perfect sound he’d ever heard. “Are you doing alright?” 

“I-” He grinned. Was this real? It had to be- nope, he had officially losing it. He should have opened up to Robin when he had the chance.

“Hello?” She stepped forward, giggling. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re spacing out on me. That’s my thing, you know. Not yours.” 

He laughed. “You look-” 

“Mama!” A little boy ran through the front door, clinging to Y/N’s leg. 

Steve’s head felt like it was spinning. 

“Hey, babe.” A man, around their age, walked up beside her, kissing her cheek gently. She grinned, leaning into his hold. “I tried to entertain him in the parking lot-” 

“It’s fine, honey.” She smiled, looking back at Steve with a sort of melancholy look. “This is Steve.” 

Steve waved, and the man waved back. Y/N’s cheeks were red, and in any normal situation, Steve would have laughed. She was cute when she was flustered. 

Right now, he couldn't find it in him to tease. He just wanted to curl up on the floor and die. “This is my husband Nick, and our son, Edmund.”

“No!” The little boy’s shrill yell livened up the place. 

Y/N laughed, looking down endearingly. “No, huh?” 

He nodded. “My name is Eddie.” 

Steve’s heart dropped, tears forming in his eyes as he stared at Y/N. Her husband laughed too, kneeling. “Kiddo, your nickname is Eddie. Your name is-” 

“Eddie!” 

‘Nick’ just laughed again, standing up. “There’s no convincing this one, I’m afraid.” 

Y/N stared back at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction. He finally spoke, finally said a full sentence for the first time since she’d walked in. “It’s a good name, Eddie.” 

She nodded, her eyes growing teary. “It is.” 

She was just as perfect as the last time he’d seen her. Radiant, happy, glowing, all things she was now. He knew, deep down, if he had told her that he loved her, she would have stayed, put her life on hold to be with him. And that - that was Steve’s worst nightmare. 

She had an actual chance, to leave, to make something of herself, and he wasn’t going to be the reason she never achieved it. He hadn’t, as he stared helplessly at her family, heart officially breaking when her husband set his hand on her growing stomach. “I get to name the next one.” 

Y/N shook her head, smacking his chest playfully. “I thought you said you liked Edmund.” 

“Kidding, babe.” He looked at Steve, smiling awkwardly. “Did you two know each other well?” 

Steve shook his head before he could think. “Just knew each other from school.” How do you tell the love of your life’s husband that you fought monsters together? He was almost sure Y/N hadn’t told him, and Steve didn’t blame her. He’d never told anyone either. “She was always the smart one, no one could keep up.” 

She wiped the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, laughing. “I wouldn’t say that…” 

Nick, who was really a nice guy, Steve would later realize (even if he hated his guts at that moment) nodded. “You still are.” He looked at Steve again, laughing. “She runs circles around me. I wouldn’t have it any other way though.” He kissed Y/N on the cheek, staring at her the way Steve wished he could. “Keeps me young.” 

That had made Steve laugh. Damn it. Y/N had laughed too, rolling her eyes. “You're 29, Nick. Not exactly old here.” 

“Speak for yourself.” Nick clapped his hands, grabbing Edmund from his wife’s leg. “Have any cartoons for this one?” 

Steve nodded, leading them down the aisles toward the kid's section. “Aladdin’s a good one.” 

Eddie had lost energy as quickly as he’d gained it, Nick carrying him to the car with a haphazard ‘nice to meet you’ thrown in Steve’s general direction. 

Y/N stood in front of the counter, handing Steve the cash for the movie. Her tone was light as she spoke, almost like no time had passed. “He’s a good kid.” 

Steve smiled. “Takes after his mother.” 

“He-” Her voice sounded thick, and she stared at him with something Steve couldn’t quite place. “I hope you’re doing okay, really.” 

He nodded. That seemed to be all he could do now. “I am.” 

“Well…” She clapped her hands, walking back. “I’ll see you.” 

She pushed the door open, sparing one last look before disappearing from his sight.

Maybe, he thought to himself as his very soul began to die, it would have been better just to go mad. Go mad thinking about what could have been, rather than seeing her and realizing she had everything he'd hoped for.

Just not with him.

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[ataliagold]

I Want Ours To Be An Endless Song

For @astrangersummer week 12 prompt 'not-date.' Title from Love Like Ghosts by Lord Huron.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T

W/C: 1245

Tags: Post Series 4, Everyone Lives, Eddie's in love with Steve, Steve loves him back but Eddie's a bit oblivious, fluff, first date, summer, picnic, first kiss, getting together

Summary: Eddie's been trying for months to keep his feelings for Steve in check. But unbeknownst to Eddie, Steve's taken him on a date.

___

It’s not a date, Eddie reminds himself for about the hundredth time that afternoon.

It’s just that the others must’ve cancelled, he figures. Robin and Nancy, because they definitely would’ve been asked too, maybe even Jonathan and Argyle, but it’s summer, people have other plans, the others just…must not have been available.

He tells himself this firmly as he follows Steve on the little path through the woods to the edge of Lover’s Lake.

As Steve sets up the picnic blanket, Eddie repeats it to himself again. And while he puts the little basket down, while he pulls out baked goods and small sandwiches with the crusts cut off Eddie chews on his bottom lip and digs his nails into his palms because Steve’s so fucking perfect and Eddie would love more than anything for the two of them to be something more, for this picnic to be something other than just an outing of friends…

But Steve isn’t his, and this is not a date.

“Want a beer?” Steve asks, blinking up at Eddie.

“Uh…yeah,” Eddie wills himself to speak, to unfreeze, to act fucking normal.

He lowers himself onto the blanket next to Steve, looks out across the lake. It’s a hot day, barely a breeze to shift the muggy air around, and the lake is still and clear as glass. Eddie sneaks glances at Steve as he rifles around in the basket for the beers he’d stashed there earlier. Steve’s in a tank top and stupidly short shorts, and he’s all golden skin kissed with moles and cheeks slightly reddened from long days spent in the sun and Eddie wants to reach out and touch…

He swallows thickly instead. Takes the beer Steve’s holding out to him, sips at it, then again to give his mouth something to do so he doesn’t say something stupid…

“S’nice here, huh?” Steve comments, taking the lid off one of his containers and offering it to Eddie.

Eddie reaches in, pulls out a cookie, no doubt carefully baked by Steve the day before.

Why did he have to be so perfect?

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, clearing his throat. He flaps a hand towards the water. “Certainly nicer than when we were last here.”

Steve chuckles lightly, nods. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to – they all know they’re remembering that time in the dark, in the cold; slimy tentacles and black depths and a gaping gate to hell.

They’ve come to the opposite side of the lake today, Eddie notices. As far away from…that spot as they can be. And everything looks different from this angle, like if he squinted they could be somewhere else entirely.

That had no doubt been intentional on Steve’s part, he supposes.

They eat in silence for a short time, until Eddie can’t bear it anymore – he never was very good at keeping his mouth shut.

“A shame Buckley and the others couldn’t make it,” he says through a mouthful of bread.

Steve frowns, a flicker of confusion passing over his face. “Huh?”

“Buckley,” Eddie repeats, swallowing before he was quite ready to, wincing as the food hurt his throat going down. “And Nance, Jonathan and Argyle…were they busy or something? They would’ve liked this.”

Steve’s frown deepens. “I dunno, I didn’t…I didn’t ask them.”

What?

Eddie falters. Stutters around his sentence a bit. “You didn’t? I – I just…well, I thought…you and Robin do everything together and Nancy often tags along with her now and so I just figured you would’ve asked them at least, too.”

Steve’s brow unknits. He puts down his beer, turns to Eddie, sunlight dancing in his eyes.

Eddie’s heart thumps at the sight.

“Eds…I wanted to come here with you. Just you.”

“Why?” Eddie refuses to admit the way that word came out as a squeak.

Steve tilts his head, a small smile playing across his lips. “You don’t know?”

No, Eddie very much doesn’t, because he’s been refusing to let himself believe even for a moment that Steve is remotely interested in him for anything other than friendship because he’ll be let down, he’ll be so fucking disappointed when it turns out not to be true. So he’s been strict with himself, he’s told himself over and over that Steve doesn’t like him like that, has ignored the lingering looks from the other man and the soft touches to the back of his hand, to his shoulder, because Steve’s a touchy sort of guy, they don’t mean anything.

Eddie’s not in love with Steve Harrington, he’s told himself every single damn day for months now.

The truth is, he’d fallen ass over tit in love with the former King that fateful night in Reefer Rick’s boatshed.

“Eddie,” Steve continues softly, reaching cautiously for his hand, taking it gently.

Eddie lets him. Thinks he’d let this man do anything.

“I…I like you. All this -” Steve gestures around them, to the lake, to the picnic blanket, to the food he’d prepared, “ – you know this is…a date, right?”

Oh.

Oh.

“This is me trying to…woo you, or whatever, maybe it sounds stupid but I’ve only ever done this with girls and they always liked this sort of thing so I thought…well. Sorry. If it’s stupid. Or…” Steve waves a hand, drops his chin to his chest, cheeks flushed with something more than just the sun now. “We can go somewhere else, if you want. Or home. If you want to go home. I could drive you back -”

“No,” Eddie interrupts, perhaps a little too zealously because Steve snaps his mouth shut. “I didn’t…I didn’t know this was a date.”

Amusement dances across Steve’s face. “You didn’t think the picnic with just the two of us at Lover’s Lake of all places was a date?”

Eddie sniffs, because when it was put like that…

Steve laughs, shuffles closer to him. “Sorry, Eds. Maybe I should’ve just told you. I was nervous, ok?”

“You? Nervous? Because of a date?” Eddie splutters. “You’ve been on so many, you could like…tutor people on dating, and shit.” And that was…a little lame, but Eddie’s reeling here.

“But this is you,” Steve says quietly, and it’s so sincere that Eddie goes still, looks down at their joined hands. “It matters.”

Eddie breathes out. Looks up again, meets Steve’s eyes and goes warm all over because Steve’s gazing at him like he hung the moon or something.

He’d try, if Steve asked him to.

He let Steve bring a hand to his cheek. Let him guide him forward, until their noses brushed, until their lips pressed together, and then Eddie Munson was kissing Steve Harrington and stranger things had happened - the two of them were all too fucking aware of that, they were sitting on top of a nightmare realm for fuck’s sake.

But somehow the Upside Down had been easier for Eddie to wrap his head around than this.

Steve kisses him. Gently, with his hand tangled in Eddie’s curls, and Eddie thinks he could die here, on the shore of the lake that really had nearly killed them.

But then Steve’s pulling back a little, and Eddie remembers how to breathe, and he’s very much not dead, he’s alive and Steve’s smiling at him and Eddie feels like the luckiest man alive.

“You do that on every date, Stevie?” Eddie quips, but he’s panting a little, Steve having stolen the air from his lungs.

Steve grins. “Only the best ones.”

___

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[royal-wren]

Okay tis me

@dionysian-daphne (since you also asked)

Books of pre-Hellenic Greece (with archaeology bc it's important in the way Hellenic polytheists learn about archaic-hellenistic era Greece):

The Emergence of Civilisation: The Cyclades and the Aegean in the Third Millennium BC by Colin Renfrew

The Archaeology of Greece: An Introduction by William R. Biers

Architecture of Minoan Crete: Constructing Identity in the Aegean Bronze Age by John C. McEnroe

Minoan and Mycenaean Art by Reynold Higgins

The Oxford Handbook of the Bronze Age Aegean by Eric H. Cline

Aegean Art and Architecture by Donald Preziosi and Louise A. Hitchcock

The Cambridge Companion to the Aegean Bronze Age by Cynthia W. Shelmerdine

For Games Or For Gods?: An Investigation Of Minoan Cup-holes by Niklas Hillbom

Some new Minoan-Mycenaean gods by Leonard Robert Palmer

Before Olympos: A study of the aniconic origins of Poseidon, Hermes, and Eros by Elmer George Suhr

The Minoan Pantheon: Towards an understanding of its nature and extent by Marina L. Moss

The Minoan-Mycenaean Religion and Its Survival in Greek Religion by Martin Nilsson

The Mycenaean World by John Chadwick

The Cultic Life of Trees in the Prehistoric Aegean, Levant, Egypt, and Cyprus (Aegaeum) by CJ Tully

Communities in Transition: The Circum-Aegean Area During the 5th and 4th Millennia BC by Søren Dietz and Fanis Mavridis

Cyprus Before History: From the Earliest Settlers to the End of the Bronze Age by Louise Steel

The End of the Bronze Age by Robert Drews

Linear B: An Introduction by J.T. Hooker

Documents in Mycenaean Greek: Three Hundred Selected Tablets from Knossos, Pylos, and Mycenae with Commentary and Vocabulary by Michael Ventris and John Chadwick

Greece Before History: An Archaeological Companion and Guide by Curtis Runnels and Priscilla Murray

Minoans: Life in Bronze Age Crete by Rodney Castleden

Minoan Kingship and the Solar Goddess: A Near Eastern Koine by Nanno Marinatos

Popular Religion and Ritual in prehistoric and ancient Greece and the eastern Mediterranean by Giorgos Vavouranakis and Konstantinos Kopanias

Dawn of the Gods: Minoan and Mycenaean Origins of Greece by Jacquetta Hawkes

Papers:

A Pantheon without attributes? Goddesses and gods in Minoan and Mycenaean iconography by Fritz Blakolmer

Deities and Religion in the Aegean Bronze Age by Metaxia Tsipopoulou

A Minoan deity from London Medicine Papyrus by Alexander Akulov

Minoan Goddess & Her Hidden World by Constantinos Filippou

Minoan Origins of Athena by Virginia Hicks

The Minoan Goddess(es): Textual Evidence for Minoan Religion by Dimitri Nakassis

Worship of Minoan and Mycenaean Gods and Goddesses by Helene Perdicoyianni-Paleologou

The Master of Animals (Hermes dominant) by Jacqueline Chittende

Di-wi-ja and E-ra in the Linear B Texts by Ratko Duev

Aphrodite, Goddess of Cyprus by Jacqueline Karageorghis

Engendering Aphrodite: Women and Society in Ancient Cyprus by Nancy Serwint (goes into how her neighbors influenced her, but weren't the same goddess)

Becoming Classical Artemis: A Glimpse at the Evolution of the Goddess as Traced in Ancient Arcadia by Olga Albert Zolotnikova

Classical Studies/Ancient Studies 2005, Greek Mythology, Thornloe University affiliated with Laurentian University, Sudbury, Ontario, Canada by Sally Katari (it's a nice look into how (pre) history and myth/religion mix)

The Great Goddess of Cyprus: Kypris Aphrodite (documentary, also led by Jacqueline Karageorghis)

*there's more, but this is what I can pull together in one night over waiting weeks

[kats0nlin3]

who’s crying now? | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary A late-night study session is interrupted by an unexpected visitor — and even more unexpected feelings.

warnings 18+ only, mild language, minor romantic tension, suggestive thoughts (nothing explicit), Y/N, reader wears 👓

𝜗𝜚

“The most popular song in the land for the seventh big week in a row is by the Police, Every Breath You Take.”

You scribble a few half-formed answers onto the page, your pencil tapping impatiently against the margin as you glance back and forth between the paper and your open chemistry textbook. The formulas blur together, refusing to stick. Mr. Kaminsky’s tests were as impossible as Nancy had warned—no mercy, no curve, just pure academic brutality.

You sigh, sinking deeper into the uncomfortable desk chair you'd dragged from the kitchen. With your phone unplugged from the wall and snacks out of reach, you’d planned for a distraction-free cram session. Well… almost distraction-free.

A sudden scuffle outside the window breaks the silence—gravel crunching, a muffled thud, then footsteps. You freeze. A knock follows, sharp and deliberate.

Knock knock knock.

You groan audibly and throw your head back. The joys of switching rooms with your sister—unexpected visitors.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" you call, voice hoarse from lack of use.

Grabbing your robe from the edge of the bed, you toss it over your shoulders and stumble over to the window. You yank up the blinds and slide the pane open, the cool night air rushing in. There, leaning casually against the windowsill like it’s the most natural thing in the world, is Steve Harrington—Nancy’s boyfriend, Hawkins High's golden boy, with that smug half-smile plastered across his annoyingly perfect face.

“You know the front door exists, right?” you deadpan, squinting at him through the dark.

"Nice to see you too, Specs," Steve says as he swings one leg through the window and lands inside with a dull thud. He dusts off his jeans like he just did you a favor and not, in fact, tracked in half the yard.

"I told you to stop calling me that!" Arms folded tight across your chest, you glare at him. “And Nancy isn’t home.”

Steve shrugs, completely unbothered. "Figured. Guess I’ll just hang out here with you until she gets back."

Before you can protest, he’s already flopping down onto your bed like it belongs to him. Shoes and all. Dirt smears your comforter like a signature left behind by poor decisions.

“Absolutely not.” You march over and shove his feet off the mattress with more force than necessary. “Off. The. Bed.” You swipe at the muddy smudge with your sleeve, scowling. “I’ve got a chemistry test to study for, and with offense? You are the exact opposite of focus.”

“Well then just let me help,” Steve offers, already making his way to your desk like you’d said yes. He snatches your worksheet off the surface, squinting at it like it’s a foreign language. “What even is this? Did you write this during an earthquake?”

You shoot him a look. “You failed chemistry.”

“C-minus,” he corrects with pride, holding the paper higher as you reach for it. Of course, he pulls back—annoyingly fast, and the unfair height difference doesn’t help.

“In that case…” You make a grab for it and this time manage to snag it from his fingers, though the paper is now a crumpled mess. You scowl down at it, but barely have time to be annoyed before you realize how close you are to him.

Really close.

You’re practically pressed against him, and his hand—steadier than you’d expect—is resting lightly on your back, probably to keep you from toppling over during your little victory tug-of-war. His eyes flick to yours, and for a second everything slows. His smirk softens, and you’re suddenly very aware of just how close his face is to yours.

Then—footsteps.

Heavy, deliberate, climbing the stairs.

You both snap apart like magnets flipped the wrong way. Judging by the familiar weight of the footsteps, you don’t even need to look to know—it’s your dad.

“Hurry!” you whisper-shout, frantically motioning toward the window.

Steve’s eyes dart to the open window, his brain clearly running the math. He takes one step toward it—then hesitates. Too risky. Spraining an ankle before Saturday’s big game? Not worth it.

Without another word, he drops to the floor with a grunt and shimmies under your bed like some kind of reverse action hero. You barely have time to adjust your face before you plop back into your chair, heart hammering, and grab your pencil as if it had never left your hand.

Just then, your door creaks open.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says from the hallway, peering into your room with that sleepy dad squint.

You spin around in your chair a little too fast and give him your best innocent smile, praying the color has drained from your face by now. “Hi, Daddy! Off to bed?”

“Yeah,” he says with a yawn, rubbing the back of his neck. “Got to get up early in the morning.”

Your smile stays frozen, even as your foot nudges the edge of your bed, under which Steve is almost definitely not breathing.

“Well, have a good night!” you say, a little too brightly as you stand from your chair and cross the room to give your dad a kiss on the cheek. You hope the gesture distracts from the slight tremble in your voice and the growing pit of panic in your stomach.

He leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes scanning your room like a security camera with dad-level intuition.

“Something wrong?” you ask, doing your best to sound confused, innocent, and not at all like you’re hiding a teenage boy under your bed.

Your dad’s eyes narrow. “I thought I heard you talking to someone. Is Nancy home?”

Your brain scrambles for a response. “Oh! No—uh, I was on the phone. With Jonathan.”

His eyebrows lift a fraction. “Byers’s kid? This late at night?”

“Yeah,” you say, keeping your tone casual, even as your heart slams against your ribs. “We’ve got a group project coming up. We were just working out the details.”

“Hmm.” Your dad doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

“Dad,” you say with an exaggerated laugh. “He’s my best friend.”

That seems to settle it. He gives you a small smile, though his eyes flick once more around the room like he's scanning for hidden contraband. “Alright, alright. Have a good night, honey. Make sure you get some rest too.” He nods toward your desk, still a mess of textbooks, loose papers, and at least three pencils that have mysteriously vanished beneath your notes.

He leans down to kiss the top of your head, and you force yourself to stay perfectly still—even though your pulse is still racing. With a soft click, he shuts the door behind him.

You sigh in relief, turning back toward the room—and nearly jump.

Sitting on the edge of your bed is your stuffed animal, wobbling slightly, clearly being puppeteered from below.

In a high-pitched, desperate voice, Steve whines, “Please don’t kick poor Stevie out into the cold, Specs!”

You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. Marching over, you snatch the plush from his hand, but can’t hold back a giggle. “Idiot,” you murmur fondly.

You lean over the edge of the bed, plush still in hand, and find him already staring back up at you with those ridiculous, soft brown eyes—doe-eyed and shamelessly begging.

“Fine,” you huff, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips. “You can hang out until Nancy gets home.”

He grins.

“But,” you add, holding up a finger. “I need to study. No funny business, got it?”

Steve raises his hand like he’s taking an oath. “Scout’s honor.”

You squint at him. “You were never a scout.”

“Details.”

You settle back into your chair, flipping to the next page in your textbook. Behind you, Steve climbs onto your bed again—this time, he has the decency to kick off his shoes.

For the next hour or so, the room is filled with the soft scratch of your pencil and the occasional click of the radio as Steve lazily flips through stations. Sometimes it lands on static, sometimes on soft rock, sometimes on the tail end of a commercial. You don't say anything—neither of you do. It’s not awkward. It’s just quiet. Easy.

Eventually, the station stops changing. You glance back and find him passed out, one arm draped across his stomach, mouth slightly open. You shake your head and turn back to your notes, finishing one last problem before giving in to the weight in your own eyes.

You slip into the kitchen, the hum of the fridge the only sound as you fill your cup with water. You take a long sip just as the front door creaks open.

Nancy steps inside, her bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly windswept. She looks exhausted, but manages a smile when she sees you. “Hey,” she says, voice soft. “What are you still doing up?”

You set your cup down on the counter. “Waiting for you.”

She furrows her brow, curious. “Why?”

“Your boyfriend is here,” you say casually. “Sleeping in my bed.”

Her eyes snap wide open. “Steve is here?”

“Mhm.” You nod, taking another sip. “And I need you to wake him up, please. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Her sleepiness vanishes in an instant as she drops her bag by the door. “Unbelievable.”

You gesture vaguely toward the stairs. “Tell him he’s got five minutes before I drag him out by the ankles.”

Nancy hurried up the stairs, her steps light but quick. When you step into your room, she’s already kneeling by the bed, brushing a bit of hair from Steve’s forehead and speaking in a soft, almost secret tone. “Steve?”

He stirs with a low groan, blinking up at her through bleary eyes. A sleepy smile spreads across his face. “Hey, beautiful,” he mumbles, voice rough and warm.

They both lean in without hesitation, exchanging a few sleepy kisses. You turn away instinctively, eyes finding a spot on the floor. There's a weird twist in your stomach—tight and uncomfortable. Not jealousy, exactly, but something. Something you don’t want to name.

“Hey, so, um,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “hate to disrupt your little Hallmark moment, but it’s late, and I’d really like to go to bed sometime tonight...”

Nancy laughs softly, straightening up. “Right, sorry, Y/N. We’ll be out of your hair. Come on, Steve.”

Steve sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he reaches down to grab his shoes. As he stretches, his shirt lifts just enough to expose a sliver of toned stomach—and that traitorous little line of muscle leading downward that your eyes should not be noticing.

Nope. Absolutely not.

What the hell were you thinking?

You quickly snap your gaze away, but not before your face starts burning up like it’s been dunked in lava. Thankfully, Nancy is too busy helping Steve gather his things to notice the full-body blush consuming you.

You grab your cup off the desk and sip furiously like hydration can drown the thought before it forms completely.

Nancy slipped into the hallway first, peeking around to make sure the coast was clear. Steve lingered behind her, still pulling on his jacket, but before he followed her out, he turned back to you.

“Thanks for letting me hang out here, Specs,” he said, flashing you that easy, lopsided grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You rolled your eyes, dragging out the word, “Sureee,” in the most unbothered tone you could manage.

Without warning, he reached out and ruffled your hair, completely ignoring your half-hearted protests. You scoffed, swatting at his hand, but he was already chuckling and disappearing out into the hallway after Nancy.

Finally—finally—you were alone.

The house had gone still, the only sound the soft whistle of the wind against the windows. You shrugged off your robe, letting it fall onto the chair, then reached up to remove your glasses, placing them neatly on your nightstand.

Crossing the room, you collapsed onto the bed, dragging the blankets up around your shoulders like a cocoon. The mattress was still warm from Steve's body, the weight of his presence lingering heavier than you expected.

You shifted slightly, nestling deeper into the pillow—and froze for a moment when you realized something.

He left his scent behind.

It was faint, but unmistakable—something like cologne mixed with the clean, sun-warmed smell of his jacket. Comforting in a way that made your chest ache.

With a small, helpless sigh, you buried your face into the pillow, breathing in that leftover warmth.

And before you knew it, you drifted off to sleep, the faintest trace of a smile curving your lips.

[steddieas-shegoes]

envious for nothing

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event prompt 'envy'

rated t | 666 words | cw: mention of recreational drug use | tags: season 2 era, eddie has a crush on steve, he doesn't do anything about it in this but it's there, introspective eddie

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

Eddie is the freak, has always been the freak, will always be the freak. Even when his band makes it big, he'll be marked as the weird one, the devil worshipper, the satanist.

He doesn't mind it most of the time. Sometimes he even embraces it, usually in public, mostly to throw off the bullies. But there's times when he looks at the jocks and the popular kids and he wonders what would happen if he just conformed. His life would be easier right?

Look at Steve Harrington, for example. Rich, popular guy, athletic, charming, good with the ladies. Probably gets a C or better average in classes. He'll probably go to an Ivy League school and work for his dad's company, marry Nancy Wheeler and pop out two kids, live in Hawkins forever, and then retire so he can spend time with his grandchildren. The perfect life.

Eddie wishes that could be enough for him. He wishes he could wake up in the morning and decide that being a good student and wearing nice clothes and shooting balls into laundry baskets was good enough. It would definitely make things easier on him, easier on Wayne.

He can shut off his nonconformist mentality and do what society says is good for him. He knows he can.

But he won't.

Because as much as he sees Steve and his buddies thriving, he also sees them struggling. They sneak out to meet him when their parents are in bed or out of town to buy whatever product will help them numb the feeling of not being good enough while giving the best they can. They drink until they don't remember how they failed that test that was their ticket to a passing grade in science class. They put others down because it's the only way they feel big.

Steve in particular is damn good at hiding how miserable he is to everyone. Everyone except Eddie.

He sees when Steve sits in his car alone after practice, dropping the fake smile and the alluring charm. He sees him wipe his hand over his face, through his hair, biting his lip until it's damn near bleeding.

At the Harington house parties, Steve sneaks off alone for a while, and Eddie's found him alone by the pool, sitting on the floor against his bed, even in the bathtub in a hidden bathroom upstairs.

He used to envy Harrington's house, how spacious it was, how he never had to wonder if the lights would turn on or the stove would work. But when he realized that Harrington was the only one throwing parties because his parents were never home, he saw that the house was depressing, empty, lonely. Steve was basically alone at 17 years old, probably long before that.

Sometimes he still thinks he could talk to Steve one of those times he catches him alone, probably even have a decent conversation. He might be funny, and Eddie's sure he'd fall victim to his charm. He's never been mean to Eddie or his friends directly.

Maybe they could even be friends once the whole high school thing is said and done and they don't have to keep pretending any of this matters.

He looks over at Steve now as he contemplates what a friendship with him might look like.

Maybe they'd smoke together, stare up at the stars and get introspective about their existence. Maybe Steve would convince him to try playing a sport and Eddie would give in because when Steve smiles in a certain way, it makes him lightheaded.

Maybe he doesn't have to be jealous of the life Steve lives if he's a part of it.

Jeff nudges his arm and he focuses back in on the conversation around him.

"You good, man?" He asks.

Eddie nods, looks down at his lunchbox.

"Frankie suggested we add some Maiden to the setlist next week."

"Sure, yeah, sounds good."

Maybe Steve would want to come hear him play next week.

[crybabyddl]

In My Room

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warning: angst, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (PLEASE WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!!!), sexual tension, sexual themes, mentions of weed, death, su!c!de, and SH, all characters are 18+, 18+ content. MDNI.

Author's Note: this is something different to what I normally write. Just feeling very sappy and a bit angsty, so here's what I'm giving you. Maybe you'll like it. Inspired by 'In My Room' by Julia Wolf.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Eddie's fingers trace a straight line through the dust that's accumulated on the shade of the lamp on your nightstand. It's not much, but it's enough that he has to wipe his hand on the leg of his jeans. The door to your room has been closed for a month now, so your scent is still lingering from the last time you sprayed your Sand & Sable perfume—the one that Eddie finds himself inhaling in large doses, even spraying the bottle you left at his house on himself before leaving for work.

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

He's been googling your name at least once every day, just to see if any more news articles came out. They were hard to read; they didn't do you justice. "loved by friends and family" wasn't enough to describe just how much of your heart you'd given the people in your life. He knew it was unrealistic to expect from a journalist, but "angel on earth" was the only true epitaph for you.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Too scared to move anything, he sits on your bed, staring at the pale yellow walls before inhaling deeply, allowing his eyes to close. He imagines you coming up behind him and obstructing his vision with your hands.

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

The way your life slowly slipped from his hands as he cradled you. He'd tried to stop the bleeding, but there wasn't much else he could do. The last time you looked in his eyes was permanently branded in his brain, burning and scarring in a way that severely wounded Eddie, but was almost comforting in a sense.

I like when it's dark out, October will cure me

He dared to open your closet, immediately recognizing the skirt you wore on Halloween when the two of you dressed up as Bender and Claire from The Breakfast Club. You looked beautiful that night, at the Hellfire Club's Halloween campaign party.

I'm walking these woods, am I thirty or thirteen?

He thinks back to the first time you met, in the woods behind the school. You wanted to try smoking weed, and your friends asked Eddie to meet you there one afternoon the first week of school. He always wondered why you didn't ask him yourself, but he assumed it was because you didn't want to risk your peers hearing that you wanted to buy drugs from the local Satanist freak.

Not asking for much, man, thought maybe you'd call me.

Eddie couldn't help himself. He would call your landline constantly, once in the morning, and once before bed. He never left a message, not wanting your voicemail box to fill up and prevent him from hearing your voice again.

I slit my own throat, just to see if you'd mourn me, yeah

The scene replayed in his mind, the way Vecna had his hand wrapped so tightly around your throat. Just as your breathing was about to cease, he grabbed you by your hair and turned you to face your friends. With a single sharp claw, Vecna dragged his finger deep across your neck, giving Nancy, Steve, Robin, and Eddie a front row seat to your death—the image of blood cascading down the front of your body never to be forgotten.

Eddie knew it was crazy and stupid, but he did it anyway. He took apart an old razor that had been sitting in his bathroom cupboard for a couple years, gliding the metal against the pale skin on his left wrist. Not too deep, he knew that would upset you... he just wanted to see if, maybe, blood sacrifices worked. What if that was all it took to bring you back? But alas, his efforts failed to return you to him.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

Your favorite jean jacket was on the back of the chair at your vanity. It had been too cold to wear it that fateful day, opting instead for your olive green army jacket with the fleece lining. In a way, Eddie was glad you weren't wearing it, it would've made things feel too real. One month was enough time to still deny the truth, that you were actually gone.

I stalk myself on the internet just to see what you'll find

He saw the terrible articles written about himself following your death. Accusations that you'd killed yourself because your boyfriend filled your head with blasphemy and wizardry. It was bullshit, but it was more believable than a monster from another dimension claiming the lives of people who were struggling to get by.

I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time

At least your parents believed him. They knew Eddie loved you too much to let anything happen to you. To their knowledge, you'd died from the earthquake, falling onto a sharp rock that impaled your throat. If this was how it felt to know the truth, he knew it was better for them not to be aware of it, as shitty as it felt to lie to them.

They were kind enough to let him visit whenever he wanted, knowing he'd just skulk to the end of the hallway to the right of the kitchen and quietly observe. They pretended not to hear the choking back of sobs from their perches in the living room, opting instead to start a pot of boiling water in case Eddie wanted a cup of tea before he left.

You make it look so easy, leaving everything behind

He wanted to be angry at you, wanted to scream up at the sky. How could you leave him? How was he supposed to get by without you? You were supposed to be next to him on stage at graduation, slow dancing and sneaking swigs from his flask at the prom you were definitely going to ditch after an hour to get high at Skull Rock. He opened the closet again, imagining what kind of dress you would've worn. He'd assumed everything had stayed the same as you'd left it, but upon further inspection, he noticed a hanger with a plastic covering over it tucked away to the left of the rack. He made a mental note that it belonged between your purple raincoat and your graduation robe that you'd gotten fitted for the week prior to the tragedy.

I want your things in my–

Carefully laying the bagged hanger on the bed, he unzipped the swishy black cover, revealing what was going to be your prom dress. He stared down at his right ring finger. Your dress was navy blue, the exact shade of the stone in the middle of his ring. It made his heart swell, your thoughtfulness present even after you'd left.

You look so cool getting high

It was Eddie's idea, going to the field that turned into a drive-in theater in the summer. He'd rolled a joint, expertly packed and long enough to get the both of you higher than the hills—his version of a rose. He'd gotten so worked up on the drive over to your house. He kept telling himself it wasn't a date, but how could he believe otherwise when you skipped down your porch steps wearing such a sweet outfit? After getting in his van, you immediately started messing with the radio, hoping to find something other than Madonna, to no avail. Eddie noticed your demeanor shift, clearly unhappy with the music.

"Check the glove compartment, I think I've got some tapes in there that might be more your taste."

And you did just that, selecting the I Love Rock 'n Roll tape and putting it in the cassette player.

The drive was short, but felt all too long for the man in the driver's seat, having to settle for stealing quick glances at you as you sang along to Joan Jett with your eyes closed.

You made everything look effortless, at least that's how it felt to Eddie. You were leaning against the rock, peering over his shoulder as he rifled through his backpack in search of his lighter. Your perfume invaded his senses, and it scared him, knowing that the smell of it would instantly bring you to the front of his mind from that day forward.

No handlebars, you wanna fly

Wayne had finally decided to let Eddie take the motorcycle for a spin after an hour of begging. He'd helped repair it all summer, and all he wanted was to go for a ride. But he wanted you with him. He sped down the roads of Hawkins, nearly running over a turtle on his way to your house.

You weren't expecting anyone, so when you heard the doorbell ring, your first instinct was that it was on the television. That is, until it sounded again, this time with a knock on the door to accompany it. You tried to see who it was from the window near the door, but it was too dark and you'd wake up your parents if they saw the glow of the porch lights seeping through their cream-colored voile curtains. So you decided to take the risk, opening the door to find Eddie, helmet in hand, with Wayne's black bike on the side of the street behind him.

"What are you doing?" You whispered with a hiss.

Your parents would tear you a new one if they knew you had become friends with Eddie, but he wasn't anything like the town of Hawkins made him out to be. But they'd absolutely have a cow if they found out you were about to sneak out to ride on his motorcycle. But the smile on your friend's face was too charming to even consider turning him down. He gave you the helmet, much to your protest. He took you for a joyride around the block, passing by the school and flipping off the building. You'd be graduating in a few months, and you were going to do everything in your power to make sure Eddie would be walking in a cap and gown beside you.

The ride was overwhelming in every sense of the word. You were cold, the air whipping against your short-clad legs, only a sweatshirt to protect your arms, but you were also warm, the fire in your spine and cheeks still burning from when Eddie brought your hands around his waist, telling you to hold on tight. You were anxious, playing out the scenario that awaited you if your parents had woken up, picturing the scowls on their faces as you climbed through your bedroom window to already find them waiting for you. On the other hand, you'd never felt more free. If you could do this, what couldn't you do?

You look so cool, I wanna die

Eddie eventually takes you back to your house, but it's the last thing he wants to do. If it were up to him, he'd have you pack a bag and hop back on the motorcycle. He'd ask you where you wanted to go, and he'd ride off in that direction. He'd make sure you had everything you needed to be content. You were the first person to make him feel like himself. He had other friends, sure, but he had a role to play for the underclassmen in Hellfire Club. He didn't have to be anything other than himself for you—the desire to look after you came naturally, and he found it by no means to be a burden.

He gave you a boost so that you could scale the flower trellis below your bedroom. You went to lift the window pane, but it remains in its place. It was locked—you weren't expecting to leave the house tonight. You looked down at Eddie, whispering what the problem was. He instructs you to come down, grabbing you by the hips to guide you to the ground. Being the excellent carjacker and delinquent he was, he knew how to crack open a window before he knew how to even spell the word 'delinquent'. With a shimmy of his multi-tool, the glass of your bedroom window rose like it'd been able to open the whole time. He jumps back down, ready to assist you in returning you to your bedroom safe and sound. He doesn't expect you to wave him in, silently asking him to come up and join you. He wasn't about to say no to you; he'd never dream of it.

Eddie was about to start sweating from places other than his underarms, the physical exertion of climbing up and down multiple times expending more energy than he'd anticipated. You were taking off your sweatshirt that you'd put on to get cozy while watching tv, and your pajama shirt lifted in the process. Eddie wished you were facing the other way. He knew it was wrong, to fantasize about seeing his friend's breasts, but what was he supposed to think about? For him to act like you weren't attractive would be impossible. He'd been fighting off the increasingly frequent thoughts for a few weeks now, hoping they'd subside on their own. However, it seemed like they weren't going anywhere, and he didn't know how much longer he could withstand it. Your shorts were so short—had they gotten shorter since the last time he stared at your ass, five minutes ago? The universe was playing a cruel trick on him, he'd been sure of it. He felt his dick twitch in his jeans at the thought of you hiking them up on purpose, like you were teasing him.

"Could you help me? I think my necklace got caught in my hair."

It felt like fate, the perfect excuse to get closer to you without having to make the move himself. You had in fact gotten your necklace entangled with a knot in your hair, probably from the wind. He stood behind you, assessing how to detangle the piece of jewelry. He tried moving some of your hair out of the way, moving most of it over your left shoulder. He was able to get a clearer view of the problem, but in an attempt to free some of your hair, he might've pulled too hard.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" Eddie could picture the scowl on your face and how your brows were pinched together in impatience. He refocused on the matter at hand, finally making some progress in the detangling.

He was oblivious to the fact that his breath was hitting your clavicle, causing goosebumps to form on your chest. He continued making steady work with his hands, eventually separating your heart-shaped necklace from the hair at the nape of your neck.

You turned to face him, hand held out to retrieve your jewelry. Eddie complied, placing the dainty chain in your outstretched palm. Before he can stop the thought, he's imagining your freshly painted nails, burgundy, scratching down his back as he thrusts into you just right.

Is it too soon to say what's on my mind?

"So, uh, why'd you want me to come up here?" Eddie asked, suddenly feeling out of place, and slightly paranoid that you could see the filthy things running rampant in his mind.

Without a word, you hung your necklace on the little metal hook on your jewelry holder. Once done, you walked over, standing right in front of him, a smile playing on your lips as your eyes found his. You took one of his hands in yours, interlocking your fingers. It wasn't uncommon for you to hold his hand, but the silence made the air thick with a tension that Eddie only felt when he was fighting off the dirty images being conjured by his traitorous brain.

Next thing he knew, you were leading him to your bed, pulling him to straddle over top of you. He doesn't remember if it was his doing or yours, but somehow, your lips were on each other. He wanted to be a gentleman, give you a chance to stop and change your mind. But when you tug his bottom lip with your teeth, it renders him defenseless. The sigh that slipped out of Eddie was desperate, and he would've been embarrassed if you weren't completely scrambling his senses.

He was hard, painfully so, precum having already created a wet patch on his boxers. He cradled your face in his hands, deepening the hot and heavy embrace. You took a risk, slipping your hands under his shirt, dragging your fingers down his chest, not stopping until you reached below his navel, unknowingly bit your lip when you felt his happy trail peaking just above the waistband of his boxers.

"You're so hot." you breathed, looking up into Eddie's eyes. You had no words to describe them other than beautiful, and you momentarily considered buying eyeliner in that chocolate hue you couldn't get enough of.

He wants to tell you he loves you. It's on the tip of his tongue, though it's preoccupied at the moment, swiping the underside of your top lip. If you kept lifting your hips to meet his like that, he'd end up cumming in his pants. Before he can even open his mouth to warn you, you're tugging down his pants and grabbing his dick through his boxers.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he swallows hard. "I've dreamt of this, you know."

Your giggle is quiet, but it crashes like waves in his ears. You had the advantage, no doubt about it. He would get on his knees and beg if that was what you asked of him. Your lips creep up the side of his neck, leaving ghosts of kisses until they're decorating the shell of his ear.

"So have I."

Fuck it.

Eddie pulled down your shorts, taking a second to admire the cute pair of underwear you'd chosen without expecting to see him. A baby pink thong, a complete contrast to the Led Zeppelin shirt and Hawkins athletics sweatshorts that you'd chosen as pajamas. The thong is discarded somewhere on your bed; it's unimportant right now. A kiss on your lower stomach makes your breath hitch. Eddies hands rubbed along your thighs, his rings only adding to the excitement you felt from his touch.

"You gonna let me taste you?" he asked, wanting to be polite despite knowing the answer.

You nodded.

He lowered himself to meet your pussy, breath fanning over the sensitive area. He could see your arousal starting to drip out of you. The mix of your perfume and your body was intoxicating. He kissed you, licking the skin on your inner thighs before moving closer to where you needed him most. The sounds you made, the gasps, breaths, and whimpers were making Eddie feel drunk. Surely, he was in heaven, and you were the angel making his dreams come true.

His tongue circled your clit, his lips closing around it as he devoured you. He briefly dips the muscle into your hole before replacing it with his middle finger.

"You're so wet, fuck." he groaned, subconsciously grinding his hips into your bed.

"Need you in me, please." the last word becoming a whine as Eddie detached every part of himself from you.

Pulling down his boxers, you grabbed a hold of his cock. You gave it the perfect amount of attention, licking up the shaft before taking all of it. Your hand was gripping his thigh, and it was unclear if you were doing so to stabilize Eddie or yourself.

"Shit, shit! You're too good at that—don't wanna cum yet," Eddie managed to pry you off of him as you frowned. "Don't look at me like that, honey. I'm just giving you what you wanted."

The second part felt slightly patronizing, like you were an impatient brat who needed to be fucked right then and there to feel satisfied. And maybe you were, neither of you was to say. The tip of Eddie's dick prodded your wetness, but he pauses.

"What are you–"

"Condom." was all he said.

"Pill." you countered, reaching out to play with the guitar pick hanging around his neck.

He nudged himself into you, warm, wet, and so inviting. He moaned as he bottomed out, slowly withdrawing. His eyes remained steady on you, wanting to gauge your reaction.

"Fuck, Eddie. I'm good, it's good. Please just keep going."

No further confirmation was needed. He continued his movements, bordering on being torturously slow. But you were making the prettiest noises, and he'd do anything to keep hearing them.

"God, your pussy is so fuckin' tight," Eddie breathed, quickening the rhythm of his hips. "Tryna squeeze me to death?"

You watched as his necklace swayed forward and back, a beat behind his thrusts. It left your brain scrambling for words, only to come up empty.

"So good, fuck. You're so hot, holy fuck."

Eddie didn't even bother trying to suppress the smile that came to his face as a result of your praise. He could hardly believe you found him hot, let alone wanting and enjoying having sex with him.

"You should see yourself. You're the sweetest, sexiest thing I think I've ever seen. I'd do some heinous shit to be able to do this again," he paused to kiss you passionately on the lips, causing his body to shift in a way that had his dick reaching a new angle inside you. He noticed how your lips parted so scandalously, and how your eyebrows knitted, like you were unable to handle the amount of pleasure you were feeling. "Oh, there it is. Needed me there, huh?"

Eddie brought his handup to his mouth, gathering spit before letting it slip past his lips onto the pad of his thumb. He brought it down to your clit, easily finding the swollen bud and rubbing it in deliberate, hypnotizing circles. Your whines only encouraged him, loving how your eyes squeezed shut as you told him you were getting close.

"Fuck," you opened your eyes to see Eddie, staring down at where your bodies connected, focused intently on giving your clit the stimulation it craved. "I'm gonna cum if you keep, doing that."

"Yeah? Do it for me, baby. I want you to feel so good. Want you to soak me like a good girl, c'mon." His coaxings had you unraveling even sooner than you'd anticipated.

"Please, fuck, please! You're close, right?"

Eddie nodded enthusiastically, his hair starting to get slightly damp with sweat. The noises he made were so sweet and honey-drenched. It was so attractive to know you were making him feel that way, and you were still in disbelief that he was doing things to you that made you feel the same after fantasizing about it for so long.

"Fuck," Eddie groaned as he felt you tighten around him even more, climaxing as the sound of your moans mingled with his. "That's it."

He couldn't help but kiss you again, hoping to ease your whimpers as your body became oversensitive to the sensations.

I want your things in my–

Eddie laid on your bed, but not before taking off his boots. He clasped his hands, resting them on his ribcage as he stared at the plain white ceiling. He should've done more. He should've run up to Vecna and started swinging at him. Instead, he stood with everyone else, frozen in horror and disbelief. He knew you wouldn't want him to blame himself, but how could he not? He was your boyfriend, he was supposed to protect you. He made a promise to do just that, and the one time you actually needed him to, he didn't. How was he supposed to carry on, knowing he'd failed you when it mattered the most?

He tried to take his therapist's advice, to not judge his emotions, to show himself compassion when his thoughts turned gloomy. You were watching over him now, weren't you?

With a deep sigh, Eddie couldn't help but imagine you sitting at your vanity, getting ready for one of those semi-formal dances that you'd somehow convinced him to accompany you to, as friends of course. There was only one that you had gone to as a couple, but Eddie didn't need any convincing to attend that one. He still kept his flask inside his jacket pocket, but he genuinely enjoyed himself. It didn't hurt that you were absolutely glowing in the twinkling lights strung around the Hawkins High gymnasium.

Your phantom silhouette dissolved as he started to conjure up memories of the two of you cuddling in bed on those rainy days where you felt like doing absolutely nothing. It was the perfect conditions for a joint, but you were always scared your parents would smell the weed. But you still took the risk, even without much effort to persuade on Eddie's part. You'd banish him to the other side of your room, allowing the rain to soak in between the now exposed window frame before lighting an incense stick. The air held the fragrance, the smoke lingering just above the tops of your bedframe posts, creating a haze similar to the fog hovering above the wet concrete on the sidewalk. The mix of your perfume, the incense, and the herb created a surprisingly harmonious aroma, one that was just as intoxicating as the smoke Eddie inhaled.

He the way you played with his hair, making little braids throughout his waves. He'd asked you to do it for a Corroded Coffin gig, and the crowd was electric that night. He liked to think it was because of your magic touch, the pampering giving him that extra boost of confidence. He longed for your touch, the featherlight caresses that lived under his skin long after your fingers had left. He could almost feel it now, chills creeping up his arms. Your lips were so soft, even when they were chapped from your nervous habit of biting the gentle skin. He wanted to wrap his arms around you, pick you up, and spin you around like he did every time he picked you up from work.

Eddie missed you—beautiful, kindhearted, smart, funny, wonderful you. And all he could do was sit in your room and pretend you were just in the kitchen making tea, a minute away from coming back and joining him in bed.

[saywhat-politics]

Louis Prevost, the older brother of Pope Leo XIV, said in an interview with Piers Morgan on Tuesday that he’ll likely tone down the right-wing, pro-Donald Trump posts on social media now that his older sibling is the head of the Catholic Church.

After Leo was elected last week as the first U.S.-born pope, it emerged that his sibling had shared vile content online, including one video that called former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-Calif.) a “drunk c***.”

[steviewashere]

WIP Word Game!

Rules: You will be given a word. Share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

Thank you for the tag @sidekick-hero! This is...(*looks at calendar nervously*) several days late, but it's fineeee...! My word is:

ESCAPISM

All snippets are going to be under the cut! Excuse any that are crazy long, I like yapping!

Totally forgot to add CWs: Grief/Mourning, Death of a Minor Character (mentioned), Body Dysmorphia/General Negative Talk Surrounding Weight! I think that's it, let me know if I missed anything!

E

Eddie really didn’t want to hear any of the news he heard today. He thought, genuinely, that he was getting better. And he was in some ways. Earned more mobility in his legs, now able to switch from walker to crutches, his scars don’t itch as bad, he can finally breathe on his own, eat solid foods—all that shit. The whole thing with his weight, though, kinda throws a wrench into all of his getting better.

from WIP "eddie recover wg"

S

Sundays were his off days. Not for a religious reason or with any comforting purpose. Just because he could. It was his day to get the grocery shopping done. The day to spruce up the trailer or go for a mid-morning drive or take them out for pancakes when all was said and done. He didn’t rise with the sun; instead remaining asleep for a few hours more, waking when Eddie got too rowdy watching something of his own on the television. Eddie had found him. Had called the funeral home—well, he called Hopper first, who then directed him to call the funeral home and to call him right back afterwards. He’d let himself be calmed by Hopper’s guidance. And in the coming weeks, after Wayne had been carted off and the funeral had been made out and the attendees all left to their homes with fists full of tissues—afterwards, Eddie sat at the dining table in the trailer, staring stark across the room to Wayne’s empty chair, still reclined with the throw blanket at its foot and the remote laying flat to the armrest.

from WIP "eddie loses wayne"

C

Considering how easy it was for the guy to lean into his space in the Upside Down, quirk his dimpled grin, flash his crazy eyes, and laugh around raspy, tired breaths. Shockingly, it was easy to let him. To have Eddie in his space. To joke and poke and tease. If anything, Steve’s only continued to bring that energy to their hang-outs; though, now that they’re around each other more, he’s come to notice that Eddie doesn’t casually enter Steve’s space or joke or tease or…whatever else he fancies doing. No, Eddie would rather sit as far as possible, and snark rather than smirk. With the alcohol, Eddie’s come right back to square one.

from WIP "wish you were a girl eddie"

A

And the crockpot had been on all day—slow roasting corned beef seasoning throughout their house. He had fallen out of it. That’s what he told Steve. “I just don’t think I love you the way I used to.” Out of everything Steve has ever been through, hearing those words, in that exact order, in the defeated tone that Eddie delivered them in—out of all the things he’s worked through—that has to be the worst. Not the first time his dad had smacked him across the face, not when his dad told him he couldn’t do theater, not when Nancy didn’t love him, not when Robin rejected him, not his parents’ divorce or the movers in his childhood bedroom, it wasn’t the concussion or the second concussion or the third or the fourth, not the plate to the head or the drugs in his neck or the black and blue; he’d rather sit through the hell that is all of that, endlessly, in one singular day than ever experience Eddie’s truth in the open.

from WIP "lavender marriage stobin"

P

“Please baby, I can take it.”

from WIP "the face one" (explicit)

I

“I hate myself right now,” Eddie admits. Loudly. From the center of his soul kind of loud. Because the world should know. They should be able to see him. “I know I’m not one to really care too much about how I look. And it’s not like it ever matters if I’m, like, the hottest guy around town or something. But…Steve, god, I’ve never felt so…so out of place. Ugly—I don’t know. “Like! It’s not—I’m not saying that people who are this way or ugly or something! It’s just…”—Eddie shrugs and bends his head forward so he doesn’t have to see the pain in Steve’s eyes—“…this isn’t me. I can’t do half the shit I used to because I don’t have much mass. My body feels like a shadow or something. If scarecrows were people, I think I’d be one of them. I just… “I feel so shitty, Steve. Just so endlessly shitty. I can, like, see my ribcage expand in the mirror. Make out the exact shape of my brow bones. Sometimes, I swear it, I can feel the outline of my heart through my chest. Maybe I’m just missing so much of myself that I’m trying to make up for it with shit that just doesn’t make sense, but I just…I’m tired of feeling this way. “I wanna be me.”

from WIP "eddie recover wg"

S

Steve clears his throat. “I stopped by the cemetery,” he tries. Still nothing. “Brought flowers for Wayne. Tidied the grass around his headstone. Scrubbed it—a…a bird had done y’know what on the stone. Figured you wouldn’t want that to stay there, yeah?” Eddie takes a deep breath. Finally blinks. Scrunches his hands where they rest in his lap. And Steve settles across from him again.

from WIP "eddie loses wayne"

M [steve is speaking on the first line, his name just doesn't start with an M in the text fic]

Mine won’t save it to the cloud. Have to upgrade my iCloud storage. Steve: Just save and close it. I’ll print it out later and delete it from your computer. Robin: Wait. Hold on. I’m reading it. Steve: What the fuck? Robs, what??? No, don’t read it! Robin: …why do you have a vagina in this one? Robin: wait…is this one of those omegaverse things Steve: Nope. Just close it, please. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Robin: Steve, you know I’m not shaming you, right? If that’s something you’re into, I’m not going to make fun of you for it. Robin: Okay, maybe a little bit. Like. If it’s a kink thing, of course I’m going to make fun of you for it. You do it to me, too. Steve: I know. It’s not what you’re thinking it is, okay? Steve: Seriously, Robin, I’m not ready to talk about it. I wrote that just for me. Steve: I don’t even want Eddie to read it. Not yet at least. Robin: okay, yeah. I saved it, okay? Closed now. Robin: but you do know that if there’s something you need to talk about, you can always come to me. Steve: Of course I do.

from WIP "text fic pt2"

Did I cheat on that last one? Yeah, but also turns out I don't use the letter M that much in my writing, apparently? Anyway!

No pressure tags:

@wheneverfeasible @alwaysurvalentine @adverbally @queenie-ofthe-void @scoops-aboy86

@sidekick-hero (hehe a little tag back) @thefreakandthehair @hotluncheddie

Your word is:

WRESTLE

[1americanconservative]

@Real_RobN

The Drunk Driver Paul Pelosi, the husband of Insider Trading Inc. Nancy Pelosi, has received $1,709,100 of PPP loans from the federal government, which won’t have to be repaid ever.

Net worth:

1987 $165,000

2024 $265 million

In office 34 fucken years.

Speaker’s salary $193,400

A: In July 2021, the Drunk Driver purchased 20,000 shares of Nvidia, a multinational semiconductor company, worth between $1 million and $5 million. This trade came ahead of a vote in the Senate that set aside $52 billion to boost domestic semiconductor manufacturing and give tax credits for production.

B: In May of 2021, the Sleazebag’s husband placed a bet of up to $6 million on Apple, Amazon and Google-parent company Alphabet ahead of a powerful House committee moving forward with bills aimed at reining in the powers of Big Tech.

C: In March 2021, the Drunk Driver purchased $1.95 million worth of Microsoft call options less than two weeks before the tech giant secured a $22 billion contract to supply U.S. Army combat troops with augmented reality headsets.

D: In January 2021, the Drunk Driver purchased up to $1 million of Tesla calls before the Biden Criminal Administration delivered its plans to provide incentives to promote the shift away from fossil fueled automobiles and toward fossil fueled electric vehicles.

E: The Treacherous Witch’s biggest financial gains came from when her Drunk Driver sold 30,000 shares of Google from Dec 20 to Dec 2023 —just before the Department of Justice launched an antitrust probe of the tech giant.

In 2020, Sleazebag Nancy Pelosi and her Drunk Driver Paul Pelosi outperformed the S&P 500 by a whopping 14.3 percent.

Now, why did Martha Stewart go to prison for insider trading and the Treacherous Witch has not?!

[luvrxbunny]

sundress

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Prompt: Sundress

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, some praise (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.9k

A/N: couldn’t figure out how to end this *crying in the distance*

Steve opens the front door with a sigh, his hand running through his hair as he walks in. His day was more stressful than it needed to be. There was an early summer rush and Robin had left him high and dry to hang out with Nancy so he didn’t even have time to find someone to cover her shift. The only thing that got him through the day was the thought that you were at his home. 

His parents are away for a month and after one week of you going back and forth between your house and his, he offered you to move in with him. You’ve been with him since, the little light at the end of his tunnel. He likes having you around, having you here when he gets home, it makes him feel like an old-timey married couple. You’re usually working at his desk, in his shirt and sometimes his jacket. Today’s sight is awakening something inside him though. 

You’re in a sundress, and an apron, cooking at the stove. He can smell something sweet in the air, like you’ve been baking and humming a song in the kitchen. It’s a scene out of a movie from the '60s; you’re dancing around the kitchen with that pretty, soft smile on your face. You light up when you see him. “Steve!” You put down the bowl you were mixing and wipe your hands on your apron before rushing over to him. “I wanted to have a picnic or something? We can stay inside if you want- I’m not sure what the weather’s like but-” 

He wraps his arms around you and drops some of his weight on you, earning a giggle at his name. He stays silent, breathing you in and imagining how peaceful life would be with you. He’d come home to this, almost every day, you in your frilly little apron, baking for him and greeting him with that beaming smile of yours. If he’s lucky you’ll let him get you pregnant, and you’d have a little one on your hip while stirring whatever you’re cooking for dinner. Maybe some he’d come home early to you dusting around the house, sweeping, or mopping. His housewife. Steve wants you to be his housewife. “Steve?”

You question softly, he’s silently inhaling your scent, his hands slowly tightening around you. He groans low against the top of your head and sighs again. “Missed you.” You squeeze him tighter and snuggle your head into his chest. “I missed you too, baby.” You slowly lift your head and he moves his to let you. You stare into his eyes for a bit before leaning up to kiss him, all the tension leaving both of your bodies. He slides his hands to your shoulder and pulls you closer, towering over you as you try and pull away with a giggle. 

“My stuff’s gonna burn, Stevie!” You slip out of his arms and head back into the kitchen, muttering about how your muffins are going to be crunchier than you wanted. He feels like he’s in a dream as he watches you turn off the oven, inspecting your muffins before pulling them out. He takes his shoes off as you finally finish your meals and desserts. You’re setting everything up on a blanket you put down in the middle of his living room. He’s moving sluggishly as he takes off his vest. 

You notice his heaviness, how down he seems and it wipes the smile off your face. “Do you want to? We don’t have to- I know you’re probably- you might be tired. We can-” He smiles to himself at your rambling before walking over to you and placing a grounding kiss on your forehead. He shakes his head and puts on a smile for you. “I’m alright, baby.”

He’s silent for most of the night, listening to the drama of your life and your new obsessions, he’s attentive while listening but doesn’t speak up often. You’re now washing the dishes as he packs up the rest of the picnic. He’s bringing you abandoned dishware, dropping the occasional spoon or cup into the sink with an apologetic face you meet with a smile. You’re almost finished when you hear his footsteps come up behind you, you’re waiting for him to put another dish in the sink but instead, he just stops behind you. You feel like you can see the broad shadow he’s casting over the sink area as he stands. You try to stay calm, ignoring the way you buzz under his gaze until you finish the dishes. 

You take your gloves off and turn to him with a smile. He already has a desperate look in his eye, one you had expected to see when he walked in earlier, it was the whole reason you whipped out your apron. You’d seen the way he’s been looking at you since you’ve been living with him so you wanted to test something out. But poor Steve came home too tired to give you any reaction. Now that he’s fed and energized though, the sundress that’s been hiding beneath your apron looks really good. He’s staring right down your cleavage, not even trying to hide his gaze and you don’t hide the obvious step forward you take to press his bulge against your lower stomach. His eyes flutter shut and he gives you a shaky exhale, his cool breath fanning over your face. 

“But my muffins…” You trail off, a soft pout resting on your face. He chuckles at you, a smile splitting his soft lips as he brings his hands to your cheeks and leans down. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses you with everything he has and his hands immediately leave your face to reach your thighs, tapping them twice for you to jump. He lifts you, holding you with your legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walks over to the island in his kitchen and sits you there with a groan as you bite into his lip softly. “I need you.”

He says it differently than he normally does, less frantic and urgent, more pleading, more needy. You caress his face gently and your heart warms at the way his eyes flutter shut.  “I know, Stevie.” He whimpers and leans into you, pressing you against the cold granite of the counter and draping you in his warmth. His hand is bunching in your dress, pulling them up to your hips, and moans, happily surprised to find you wearing nothing underneath. His eyes shoot open and lock with yours, painfully aroused by the shy smirk on your face. 

You giggle at him and push your hips up, prompting him to keep moving, he shakes his head at you, feigning disappointment as he turns his attention back to your leaking pussy. His rough jean material digs into your sensitive thighs and lips as he presses himself against you. Your hands fly to his belt desperately, pulling at any leather you can get your hands on and hoping you pull the right thing at some point. Steve lets you struggle, he watches your hands fumble on his belt, frantic for his cock. He tries not to let his smirk get on his face but your frustrated whine at his uncooperative belt forces the smile onto his face. He brings his hands down to gently pull yours away from his belt. 

You pout below him, upset that his belt wasn't working with you. He takes it off himself and wiggles his jeans down with his briefs, leaving just enough room for his cock and throbbing balls. He wraps his hand around his cock with a sigh, bringing your attention away from your little tantrum and back to him. He watches you look him over and your gaze locks on his red, throbbing cock. He waits for you to look back up at him but you don’t your eyes stay on his dick as he slowly pumps it. He’s trying to stay calm but your gaze is turning him on so much he’s started to leak onto you, a small string of precum dripping down from his tip and rolling down your mound, getting lost between your lips. 

You shiver and finally look up at him with begging eyes. He holds your contact, bringing one hand up to your face to keep it turned toward him as his other hand guides his dick into you. His breathing stutters at your overwhelming warmth, at the way he’s instantly coated in your slick. He takes a deep breath and leans down to you, pressing his chest against yours before pushing the rest of his cock into you. You scream out his name and your hands bury in his hair, his favorite feeling. “Just like that, Stevie. Right there, my love.”

His eyes roll back at your praise and his hands come to your hips, pulling you onto him while he thrusts into you with all the energy he has left. His head is resting on your chest, his ear on your heart, and listening to the way it’s pounding. His eyes are clenched shut, trying to focus on your pleasure instead of the way you’re sucking him in. He’s already pulsing inside you and you’re fluttering around him. Your hips keep twitching in his grip, trying to fuck yourself on his dick faster than he wanted to fuck you. Even though his hands are stopping your hips from moving, your pussy still chokes him every time you try, uncontrollably tightening on him and forcing groan after groan from his lips. 

He grinds his hips into you slowly, nudging his tip into your cervix and his patch of curls into your clit; the perfect combination, Steve knows it too. He already has a smirk on his face when your moans kick up, pitching into something ethereal. His hips snap into you more desperately as he feels his balls tense. He lifts his head off of your chest and your hands are pulling his face to yours instantly. You moan into his lips, your lips wet and bitten against his, he can’t help the whines that fall into you. His hands leave your hips to hold your face to his as his hips take on a mind of their own, fucking into you with a pace that’ll have both of you exploding in a matter of minutes. 

Your face is stuck in a shocked, silent moan as you stare at him, little whimpers resembling his name are the only noises he’s able to get out of you until your eyes roll back and you go limp against him. Ragged moans shoot out of you as you suffocate him, your hands almost ripping his hair from his head as he thrusts into you, chasing his orgasm as he watches your eyes cross. His cock throbs again, a warning before it explodes inside you. 

You can feel his warmth burst and spread throughout you and he grunts your name against your lips. His eyes shut tight, every muscle pulled tense as he shakes against you. The only sounds coming from him are gruff curses and your name. His hands are shaking as he cradles your face, keeping it close to his as his hips jerk into you, thrusting with the aftershocks of his orgasm before collapsing against you. You stroke his hair with a soft sigh as you try to even your breathing. He’s just resting against you, so loose you feel like he could slide onto the floor. 

All the stress from his day is gone. He thinks he could do this, deal with the stress of his job, whatever stress his outside life throws at him. He'll be okay as long as he's coming home to you.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[secretsleuthexchange]

Secret Sleuth 2024: Sign up now! 🕵️‍♀️❄️

The Secret Sleuth Gift Exchange is an online, fanworks-only Secret Santa-style event for the CW Nancy Drew fandom!

What type of gifts can I make?

You will only need to make one gift, which should be a type of fanwork. Whatever type of gift you end up creating, please ensure it meets these parameters:

Fanfiction: 1500 word minimum, 10,000 words maximum. Completed works only.

Graphics/gifsets: 2 image minimum

Fanart: 1 panel minimum 

Playlist: 15 song minimum, 1 cover image, and a link to the playlist on Spotify or Apple Music

Fanvids/edits: A minimum of at least 1m30s of video content, across either 1 or 2 videos

What happens if I sign up?

To sign up, you will need to fill out this form confirming a) what gift types you can create, b) what gift types you would like to receive, and c) basic information about yourself, such as your social media handles and your likes/dislikes.

After sign-ups close, our mod team will create a match and send you all relevant information to help you create your gift. And don't worry: the mod team will only ever match you with someone who wants a gift type that you are capable of creating, so you don't need to worry about making something outside of your comfort zone.

You will then have ~7 weeks to create your gift, which should be posted on an assigned day over 1st-12th January 2025. If your giftee is on tumblr, we encourage you to send them anonymous messages to build excitement and ask them questions to help inspire you!

**Important: Please don't reveal who you are to your giftee until after your gift has been posted. It's called SECRET Sleuth for a reason!**

What's the timeline?

Sign-ups open: October 21st

Sign-ups close: November 4th

You'll receive your match by: November 11th

Check-in #1: December 2nd

Check-in #2: December 16th (for scheduling your posting slot!)

Gifts should be ready by: December 31st

Gifts will be posted over: January 1st-12th 2025

What's different from last year?

This year, we're extending the gift creation window and gifts will be posted later. Instead of posting over the holidays, gifts will be posted starting in January. We hope this will take the pressure off those people who have finals for school, who have to work over the holidays, or who are busy with travel and seeing family, etc. We've also tightened up the gift requirements to ensure everyone gets a gift of similar quality.

How do I sign up?

It's easy! Fill out the sign-up form here. The deadline to sign up is Monday November 4th 2024.

-- The Secret Sleuth Mods xoxo

Join the 'have a nace day' Discord server here / Follow us on Twitter/X here

[ataliagold]

Keep Me Afloat

For @astrangersummer week 8 prompt 'ocean waves.' Title from Passenger by Noah Kahan.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: G

W/C: 1723

Tags: post-Vecna, established Steddie, Steve is self-conscious about his scars, Eddie loves every part of him, minor angst, emotional hurt/comfort.

Summary: Standing in ankle-deep water watching his friends enjoy a summer beach day, Steve looks down at himself and hates what he sees.

___

“You ok?” Robin murmured to him, hand on the small of Steve’s back, on the one small spot of skin unmarred by the now mostly-healed grazes on his back.

“Mmm hmm,” Steve said through tight lips, arms curled over his stomach.

Robin looked at him, eyes falling to where his hands were folded against his sides, against the extensive scarring there. “The kids don’t care, you know,” she said quietly.

Steve scoffed, something bitter and sad. “Yeah. I do, though.”

Ahead of them, the kids were shrieking in chest-deep water, Mike yelling as Lucas dunked him under a wave, Dustin pointing and laughing until he received the same treatment, resurfacing with an angry splutter and splashing water at Lucas.

Max and El were on the shore, Max’s chair parked up on a flat bit of sand, El content to sit beside her and watch their friends’ antics.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle were wandering to the other end of the beach, scouting out the possibility of an ice-cream stand down there.

None of them were even looking at Steve, at the state of the ugly scars across his skin, but it didn’t matter.

Steve was aware enough of them for everyone.

Robin dragged her foot through ankle-deep water. “It’s warm,” she commented, tone light. “Do you want to go in?”

He did.

He’d love to swim out past the kids, let his feet lift off the sand, allow the water to carry him out deep until he could just float under the warm sun and not think about anything for a while.

But he didn’t think he could.

Even now, with the water gently pulling at his toes, sucking at the sand below his feet, his heart rate was picking up.

Try as he might, he couldn’t help but think back to Lover’s Lake, to freezing water rushing into his lungs, to the slimy grip on his ankle that had pulled him down to hell.

Swallowing thickly, he shook his head.

Robin nodded, small and sad. “Eddie’ll be here soon,” she said, trying to cheer him up.

Steve managed a small smile at that. Of course Eddie had overslept for their beach day, leading to a rehash of their plans when Dustin had rung Steve complaining that Eddie hadn’t picked him up as planned.

He was arriving now, though – Steve heard the whine of his van coming to a slammed halt in the parking lot even from where he was standing in the shallows.

Eddie tumbled out, towel in hand, and grinned when he caught sight of Steve, raising his hand in greeting.

Steve smiled softly, a wave of fondness rushing over him.

Robin shook her head, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling too. “Here’s your knight in shining armour.”

Eddie tore his shirt off on his way to the water, balling it up and tossing it at Max who responded by grabbing the towel in her lap and snapping it against his ass. Shrieking, Eddie swore, clutching his butt with one hand as he ran the rest of the way over the hot sand.

Eddie wore his scars unashamedly.

They were in full view for everyone to see – the skin on his sides and torso left puckered and twisted, tattoos warped and some unrecognizable where flesh had been stripped. They were worse than Steve’s – the bats had bitten deeper, had had far longer to chow down on him than they had Steve.

But Eddie bared himself easily, confidently, and Steve burned with jealousy.

He’d asked Eddie, once, on a particular night curled up together on the couch when Steve had been feeling small. How he did it, how he didn’t care if people stared, how he wasn’t so…self-conscious.

Eddie had looked down at him through heavy lashes, had brushed his fingertips over Steve’s t shirt above the scarring on his back. “People have always stared at me, Stevie,” he murmured eventually. “Because of my clothes, my hair, because I play D&D, because I’m too loud or too…weird, or because I’m the Devil, I’m a murderer, whatever it is people think…I’ve been stared at and looked down on my whole life, I learnt to stop giving a shit what other people thought a long time ago.”

Steve had tried, he really had. Tried to be more like Eddie, tried to not worry about what other people thought of his appearance. But truthfully…his appearance had always been important to him. He was supposed to be strong, fit, athletic…the King of Hawkins High, once.

Not this pale, gaunt, chewed up and spat-out version of himself.

Eddie reached him with a loud splash, showering cool droplets across Steve’s thighs and stomach. He shivered lightly.

“Sorry,” Eddie panted, “got here as quick as I could. That little shrimp complain much?” he gestured ahead to Dustin.

“Only the whole way here,” Robin replied. “You’re lucky Nance had room in her car for him too.”

Eddie turned his gaze to Steve, smile quickly fading, replaced by a frown. “Stevie, you ok?” he asked gently, squeezing his upper arm.

“I’m gonna go check on the girls,” Robin said, making a strategic exit back towards Max and El, leaving Eddie and Steve alone in the water lapping at their feet.

“Hey, what is it?” Eddie breathed, stepping closer, trying to catch Steve’s eye.

But Steve kept his gaze fixed on the tiny waves, watching them break and recede again. “I’m fine. Just…you know.” He gestured down at himself, then quickly folded his arms back across his stomach.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured, hands coming to rest on Steve’s arms, not pulling them away but just holding. “You’re with friends here, ok? No one minds, no one’s looking. Well, except me, because you’re my boyfriend and you’re hot as hell and I never want to not be looking at you, but…”

One side of Steve’s mouth quirked up in a smile.

“Here.” Eddie coaxed one of Steve’s hands into his own, tugged him gently towards deeper water. “Come with me, sweetheart.”

Steve followed him, because he’d follow Eddie anywhere.

He sucked in a breath as the water climbed higher, over the top of his waistband, up to his chest.

“Eds,” he said eventually, breath coming faster as the water approached his shoulders. “S’deep enough.”

Eddie stopped, turning to face him, hair falling wetly around his neck. Despite Steve’s half-hearted protest because what if someone saw, Eddie pulled Steve to him, hands resting under the water on his hips, cold thumbs rubbing circles across the scars there. Although he was nervous at being in the deeper water, Steve was a little relieved to be out here, where the water covered his scars completely.

“You’re beautiful,” Eddie whispered to him.

“Eds…” Steve started, looking away.

“No.” Eddie brought one hand to his chin, keeping Steve’s gaze on him. “You are. I know you don’t like your scars, shit, I don’t like my own either. But they’re a part of us now, ok? And you know what?”

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, but Eddie waited, eyes wide and earnest until Steve muttered,

“What?”

“They mean we survived. We took everything that fucking place could throw at us, and we made it out, and those kids -” Eddie pointed across the water to the boys playing in the waves. “ – they’re alive because of you.”

“And you,” Steve murmured.

“Sure. And me. And I know it’s gonna take some time, Stevie, but please don’t think you need to hide around us. Your scars are part of you, and everyone here loves you.”

Steve took a shaky breath, hand grasping for Eddie’s under the water, holding it tight. “They’re so…they’re so ugly, Eds,” he whispered, looking down at himself.

“Steve,” Eddie said, with a ghost of a smile, “you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Scars and all, sweetheart, so please don’t say that.”

Steve floundered a little for something to say, feeling vulnerable under Eddie’s steady gaze.

“Do you think my scars are ugly?” Eddie tried.

Steve shook his head quickly. “No.” Because they weren’t, not to Steve. Eddie was badass, he’d gone through hell and been on death’s door for way too long and gone through a grueling recovery and Steve had kissed every one of his scars, he’d never dream of calling them ugly. They were Eddie.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

Eddie leaned in closer, forehead almost brushing against Steve’s. “When you see my scars, what do you think?”

“I think…I think they’re just…part of you, I love you, they don’t…they don’t matter to me,” Steve stammered, a wave of emotion rising up in his throat because he knew what Eddie was doing. “I don’t care how they look, and I love that you can be so confident about them, but I…I can’t do that. With my own. Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie’s brows knitted together. “Try, for me? Just for today. Try and see yourself how you see me.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I…I’ll try.”

Eddie’s smile was reward enough.

Later, Steve lay on the beach bracketed by Eddie and Robin, stretched out under the sun while the kids exhausted themselves in the waves. He’d still tense up whenever someone else walked past him on the sand, still automatically go to throw an arm across his stomach, but that was ok. It was a start, and just the fact that he was lying there with his shirt still off was progress.

Eddie squeezed his hand whenever he could, fed him with small smiles and soft glances, while Robin kept up a steady stream of chatter that helped distract him.

By the time an ice cream run had been completed, by the time Lucas had talked some other beach-goers into borrowing their volleyball net, Steve was feeling…ok. Not his old self, not by a long shot, but it was getting gradually easier to forget about his scars for a short time and just enjoy himself.

And when he leapt into the air to slap the ball back over the net to Lucas, when he turned to see Eddie’s hot and heavy gaze locked on him, Steve even managed a small smirk in his direction.

He’d get there, he thought. Day by day. And Eddie would be there with him every step of the way.

___

[cranberrymoons]

i can take you higher

prompt: charm ✨ (@steddiemicrofic) word count: 548 rating: t tags: smoking, post S2, mild h/c, touch-starved steve title from seminal steve harrington identification song: "i'm on fire" by bruce springsteen

Behind Steve’s house is the woods, and behind that is a river, and on the other side of that there’s a quarry. 

When he was sixteen years old, they pulled a body out of the lake that sits at the bottom of it. It’s not really a lake, and the body wasn’t really a body after all, but he thinks sometimes that everything in his life hinged on that moment. A boy he didn’t know, and a body that wasn’t a body, and the river behind his house emptying into a lake that wasn’t a lake.

“I just wish there was a way to go back to before,” he’s saying, laying on the shore of the lake that isn’t a lake, passing a joint back and forth with the town drug dealer because– why not. “Like some sort of spell, or– or charm that could zap me back to when everything was normal.”

Eddie Munson. What Eddie Munson says, squinting at him through the dark as he exhales a hazy cloud of smoke, is:

“You’re a weird dude, Harrington. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Steve sighs, sitting up on his elbows to accept the joint. “Yeah. A few times.”

“And you’re high as hell right now, and you’re not making any sense.”

Again, “Yeah.” He inhales, holds it in for a beat, blows smoke up toward the stars. “Sorry.”

He wonders if he’ll ever stop apologizing, and then he wonders why he seems to do it so often. To Nancy, to Dustin, to Jonathan, and now, of all people, to–

Eddie snorts. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m the one who got you high, remember?”

Steve feels something run through him, but his brain is too foggy to figure it out. He drops back to lay down again, and when he does, his head lands on Eddie’s stomach. Eddie makes a quiet sound, breath sucking in sharp, but then his hand settles on Steve’s head, threading through his hair, and it’s been… days? weeks? since anyone has touched him without their hand curled into a fist.

The air is cool, and Eddie’s hands are warm, and Steve lets his eyes fall shut; if he were less high than he is, he’d probably be embarrassed by the fact that his throat goes a little tight. 

“Anyway, I don’t think you need some sort of magic time travel spell,” Eddie says after a long moment, quiet voice cresting through the buzz in Steve’s brain. “Or– if you do, then so do I. But life doesn’t really work that way.”

Steve turns his head to stare up at him, and Eddie’s hand shifts with him, moving around to cradle the back of his skull. He smells good, too, like laundry and cigarettes and an underlying third thing that starts up an itch in the back of Steve’s skull and makes him want to reach out and taste, to see if his tongue can follow it over his skin and into his mouth.

“What do I need, then?” he asks, because the only other thing in his brain is hands and fingers and the warmth of another person’s body under his cheek. 

Eddie blinks at him, frowning slightly. “Time?” he suggests. “Maybe you just need time, and someone who will get you high.”

[also on ao3]

[scoops-aboy86]

WIP Word Game

Rules: You will be given a word. For Each letter in that word, share a snippet from a WIP, then tag some friends with a new word.

Let’s see. @pentapoctopus hit me with FAMILIAR and ESCAPE, then @wheneverfeasible slapped me with REGRETS (which is a misnomer, I regret nothing) and CHIMNEY, and then @hotluncheddie bapped me on the nose with BRIGHT. My first real omegaverse fic is almost done thanks to these!!

F

For all the fuss, it's not that great a picture.

A

Almost as soon as Robin popped out from nowhere like a Jack-in-the-box, the flash had gone off. 

M

Motion makes a blur of Eddie's hands and mouth, Steve's fierce and opinionated Omega already metaphorically leaping to flip her off and lodge a complaint about the sudden and unprovoked blinding—at which Robin had just cackled and dived back into her room to safety. 

I

It's not flattering, but it is definitely an unforgettable souvenir. 

L

Look, Steve is nothing if not sentimental. 

I

It's their first photo together as a couple, doing their walk of shame (or, as Eddie insists on putting it, stride of pride) to the shower to wash off and scent each other fresh. 

A

All of Steve's courting gifts have been well received, from extra strings after that time Eddie had snapped a few at practice for the new band he'd joined to Steve's letterman jacket decorated with dozens of metal pins Robin had helped him scour music store bins and thrift shops for to, like, every meal he's cooked for Eddie since they've gotten together. 

R

(Robin faux gags theatrically in the background every time he serves Eddie a full plate before anything else hits the table, because his soulmates are nothing if not committed to the bit.)

~

E

Eddie is talking about sound proofing it to use as a music room, which Robin is in full support of because that will give her more of a buffer from their “depraved noises” at night (and some afternoons). 

S

Steve’s had his work cut out for him convincing Eddie, in every other aftermath or so, that his eagerness is flattering instead of off-putting. 

C

Craved, even, with a hunger that is finally, finally being sated. 

A

And if that’s also how Eddie has described his knot, babbling while he rides Steve into the mattress about how it fits him just right and that no one else’s has ever or could ever compare, well.

P

Pretty please come and help me test it out?” 

E

Everything had started out folded, but just the short walk from his old room and putting them down has turned what was once a neat series of stacks into a jumbled pile. 

~

R

Room to sprawl and then some—though Eddie, he knows, will be on him like butter on toast the second they lay down. 

E

Eddie rolls his eyes and pouts at him from where he’s waiting impatiently by the nest in a threadbare band shirt and boxers. 

G

Groaning, Eddie goes practically limp against him in defeat. 

R

Robin chooses that moment to bustle in with handfuls of photos that she’d been unpinning from the walls in his room. 

E

“Easy there lust bunnies, please no humping until I have vacated the premises.”

T

There are extra blocker patches in the bathroom if you need any help keeping your hormones in check for another half hour or so.”

S

“Shut up, Birdie,” Eddie groans, extricating himself from Steve’s hold—something neither of them wants, but it’s probably for the best. 

~

C

Chances are that this move would have happened soon enough either way, but Eddie’s oncoming heat had definitely accelerated things. 

H

He’s noticed, however, that she’s been exceptionally helpful lately:  offering Robin a trip to Boston for the week, a place to stay while she’s there, a full tourist itinerary, and now loaning power tools for home projects. 

I

If he had more to go on he might think there’s something going on there, at least on Nancy’s end—but he’s learned since the whole ‘Vickie likes boobies’ thing and is currently in a holding pattern waiting for more information.

M

Maybe it’s Robin’s presence, but finding a place for all his stuff actually goes by pretty quickly.

N

“No laundry or Robin to distract us.”

E

Eddie tucks his nose close to Steve’s scent gland and lets his eyes drift closed, inhaling deeply. 

Y

“You think we’ll get to the point where they’ll happen at the same time, like in the, uh, movies?”

~

B

“Baby,” Steve says, equally surprised and embarrassed that he hasn’t broached this particular subject yet, “I really do spend both of those with Dustin and Claudia.”

R

“Right, okay… but then, when is your rut?

I

I’ve never noticed you, like, suspiciously run off with a girlfriend for a week, and you’ve never kicked us out for it, so…?”

G

“God,” Eddie breathes, “you’re perfect.

H

How are you so fucking perfect?”

T

“The real question is, how did no one, including me, realize I was so in love with you earlier.”

~

For those tagged (or anyone else who wants to play along) your word is… BOISTEROUS. 

No pressure tags: @yesdangerpls @sidekick-hero @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @kikidoesfanfic @nureyevsins 

And tagbacks to @pentapoctopus @wheneverfeasible @hotluncheddie 😜