#and cut off Tommy and Carol!

[momotonescreaming]

One day Dustin walkie talkies Steve, asking to host DnD at his place, and Steve answers back that dude no, he's busy and hangs up the walkie.

Dustin responds in a huff, flipping off the walkie, before packing up his DnD stuff and angrily biking over to Steve's place anyway. He's got the biggest place, he loves him, and he's probably not even busy anyway. He goes on a million dates, he can cancel.

So Dustin arrives, throws his bike on the front lawn, and angrily knocks on the door. He can hear noise from inside - Steve isn't busy, the bastard - and frowns as the door opens to reveal Steve. Hes wearing a button down shirt and dress pants, an apron tied over top. Before he can say anything, Steve looks at him, and frowns.

"Dustin? What? Dude, I told you I was busy." Steve says, placing one hand on his hip and the other resting on the open door.

"Come on Steve," Dustin says, rolling his eyes. "It's one date with a girl you're never gonna see again. Just tell her you changed your mind. Hellfire is more important."

"Hellfire is more important?" Steve says, and before he can say anything else, a voice echoes out through the Harrington house.

"Steven?" A feminine voice calls. "Have my guests arrived yet?"

"No Ma," Steve calls back. "It's one of the kids I babysit."

Oh, Dustin thinks, he's busy at a party with his mom. And something in Dustin coils, frustrated. Why did he hang up the walkie then? And why did he say he's Dustin's babysitter? He's not a kid anymore, he's a teenager now. He can handle himself. He's way more mature than most adults out there.

Steve turns back to Dustin, hand still on hip, eyebrow raised.

"Well why didn't you say something Steve!" Dustin replies, gesturing exasperatedly with his hands.

"I did." Steve says firmly. "I told you I was busy. It's not my fault you didn't listen."

And Dustin flusters. "It wasn't- I just- I thought-"

"You thought?" Steve prompts, raising an eyebrow at him, and Dustin shrinks under his gaze. He's never felt so small.

"I thought you were lying to get out of it." He replies, basically a whisper. "Or just going on one of your dates."

"And what? You thought I didn't want to host badly enough that I'd lie about it, and showed up anyway? You thought I'd abandon a date last minute to host a game I don't even play?" Steve says, and Dustin can feel the pressure behind his words. "Or I'd let you host a game in my house without me there? Fat chance."

Dustin looks down at his feet and tries not to let his lip wobble. To repress the urge to stamp his feet and yell. Instead he clenches his fists, tight by his side, and feels his stomach churn. He just wants to play his game.

Steve sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and looks down at Dustin softer this time.

"Dust, you know I love you right?" He says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Thick, and warm, and comforting. "But you've got to learn some fucking boundaries, bud."

Dustin snorts, weak and watery. "Okay.

[ickypuppi3]

i miss them

[morganbritton132]

A Tiktok goes up on Eddie’s account that’s shot at an awkward angle like he’d originally set it up for a different reason but got distracted. The tone of Eddie’s voice clearly shows he’s teasing when Steve cuts him off.

Steve: Eddie, stop. Tommy never had a crush on me

Eddie: Baby, I hate to break it to you, but everybody who has ever met you has had at least a little bit of a crush on you

Steve: No. that’s not-

Tommy: Steve, I was in love with you

Steve: What, no?? No. You loved Carol.

Tommy: Yeah, I still love Carol but I was in love with you for years. Carol was too.

Tommy: You broke both our hearts when you left us for Wheeler

Steve:

Tommy: Seriously, you never knew? That wasn’t an act for social media? Did you think that we took all of our friends on dates?

Steve: That wasn’t - we were just…

Tommy: No one jokes that often about having a threesome without kinda meaning it

Steve: I - that�� *slowly morphs into that surprise pikachu meme*

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part fourteen

442 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen

On Saturday, Steve invites Carol over. He would usually hang out with Tommy (which has included Carol more often than not recently, anyway) but he’s visiting family over the weekend. Steve didn’t want to sit around the house or go out alone and he figured there’s no reason he and Carol can’t hang out without Tommy there, too. 

He’d never admit it to either of them, but he’s honestly liking her better lately, and would prefer her company to his, anyway. 

Tommy’s always been an asshole, but he’s growing more and more, like, genuinely mean as the days go on. For no reason, too. It’s kinda scary to see the kid he used to climb trees and learn how to swim with so filled with anger that he’s willing to hurt people to get temporary relief. Anger that he likes to take out on kids at school who do nothing to him. 

Carol isn’t angry. She’s kinda entertaining, actually. 

“Then she started talking about some guy who cut off his own ear and killed himself! Like, what?! What does that have to do with anything? All I said was that I don’t see why we have to make stupid drawings of ourselves!”

Steve nods along as he shuffles through his fridge trying to decide on something to make for lunch.  

“And she- Oh my god,” Carol cuts herself off. “Did you see what she was wearing?”

Steve pulls out sandwich supplies and shakes his head. “Nope. What was she wearing?” he asks, knowing damn well what she was wearing. 

“A sweater vest. With a tie!” 

Steve snorts. “Oh, the horror.”

“And she had these rings- Well, actually, the rings were kind of cute, but her shoes were all marked up with pen. Pen!”

“You kinda sound like-” Steve cuts himself off when he realizes where he was going with that sentence. 

You kinda sound like me when I think about Eddie.

When he looks over to Carol to see if she noticed his slip up, he finds her looking at him with her eyes narrowed from where she’s sat on his counter even though he’d protested (No, no, no, come on! I eat there!). He clamps his teeth down on his cheek. 

“Sound like what?” she asks. The question by itself would be innocent, but combined with her crossed arms and glare, it comes off as defensive. 

“Like you really don't like her,” he deflects and turns back to the sandwiches. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Carol slump. She scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause I don’t.”

Steve can practically see her pout. 

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, “Ham or Turkey?”

fifteen

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things @n0-1-important @xxbottlecapx

@tinyplanet95 @dannys-guilt-ridden-cockroach @theohohmoment @corvus-perplexus @hippieg1rl420

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@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

sorry if i missed anyone!!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 15

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14

Steve wishes it was raining. Instead, it’s a crisply cold day, but the sun’s shining brightly, illuminating Steve’s dour mood as he walks, unsure of where he’s even going.

The quarry’s miles away, holding his car and house keys hostage. So, he walks, and walks, and walks, aimless.

Chrissy’s probably still at Eddie’s, reading him the riot act, Jeff at her side, so she’s out. He doesn’t have anyone else—Tommy and Carol long since moving on to greener pastures, and no one on the basketball team would go out of their way to spit on him if he was on fire.

There’s always Nancy, but they’re ghosts in each other’s stories now, ships passing in the night.

He should walk to the quarry to pick up his car, and go home to his quiet, lonely house.

He calls Robin at the first pay phone he passes, digging around in his pocket for loose coins as he dials a number he hopes is hers. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Where do you live?” he asks.

“Shit, Steve?” her tired voice turns frantic. “Are you oka—”

“Robin,” he cuts in, voice cracking just enough to shut her up. “Can I come over?”

The other line’s quiet for a moment, only the sound of her muffled breathing assuring Steve she hadn’t hung up. “Robin?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” she cries, then rattles off her address. “When will you be here?”

It’s a small town, so it only takes Steve a second to reorient himself, figure out the quickest path from where he is to Robin. “About fifteen minutes?” he guesses, not used to accounting for walking time.

Robin sighs, “oh, good,” that frantic edge finally bleeding out of her voice. “Hurry up, dingus, okay?”

He runs out of time before he can reply, phone kicking the dial tone back at him until he hangs it back up, the barrel of the phone rattling as he puts it back on the dirty receiver.

The sun’s low in the sky when he finally stands in front of an unassuming house with a dingy white door. He’s numb, tired to his bones as he knocks quietly on the front door.

Robin flies out, arms wrapping around Steve in a tight hug before he even realizes she’s there. Steve shudders and buries his face in her hair, hands shaking as he wraps his arms around her and pulls her further into his chest.

She pats his back awkwardly but doesn’t let go as she asks, “you okay, dingus?”

“No,” Steve murmurs, afraid of how his voice will come out if he talks any louder. “Can I come in?”

Robin lets go immediately, but Steve holds on a second longer, not wanting to lose her warmth. “You can hug me again in my room, Steve,” she says, arms awkwardly held down at her sides.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he replies with one final squeeze to her middle.

When he finally lets go, fingers flexing in the cold air, Robin leads him into her house. She pulls him through the living room and up a set of stairs too quickly for Steve to get much of an impression past lived in and homey.

“I’ll be in my room!” Robin calls just before she shuts the door behind them, muffling what must be her mom’s response.

Robin’s bed’s messy, and there’s clothes all over her floor. The walls are covered in posters of bands he’s never heard of, pictures cut out of magazines, and little post-it note reminders.

While he gawks at his surroundings, Robin pulls him to her bed and pushes on his shoulders until he sits down on it. She then proceeds to wrestle her quilt away from her other blankets and drape it over his shoulders. Only then does Steve realize he’s shivering as the cold of the outside world slowly seeps out of his bones.

In here, as Robin sits down across from him, he feels safe, finally—safe and warm.

“Okay, spill,” she demands, taking any sting out of the order by reaching out and taking his hand.

Steve takes a breath, ready to heed her orders, before letting it all out. Where does he start? What does he say? Does he start with Jason? With the note to Chrissy? There’s just too much and it’s all tangled together.

But then she squeezes his hand and he says, “I told Eddie.”

He looks down at their linked hands, unwilling to meet her eyes as she prompts, “You told him…” in a hesitant voice.

“That I was the one writing the letters,” he replies. “That I like him, that it was never Chrissy.”

“Oh,” Robin says, scooting closer so their knees bump. He wishes, absurdly, that they were in that same boy’s bathroom stall for this conversation. “Oh, shit. Is he going to tell everyone? Oh my god, are you okay? What did he say?”

“Robin,” Steve cuts her off, knowing from experience that she’ll just keep on spiraling if he lets her. “He’s not going to talk to me anymore.”

And that, for the first time since everything started spiraling out of control, is what makes tears pool in his eyes. Eddie might tell everyone, and he might be run out of town, but that feels unimportant right now.

How can that matter when he’ll never go to another band practice or Dorks & Dragons session? How can that matter when Eddie will never smirk at something Steve says when he thinks Steve’s no longer looking? When he’ll never write another letter, or receive one back?

“I am so sorry, Steve,” she says, and she sounds it, even as she drops his hands to clutch at his face hard enough that his cheeks squish together. “But, are you stupid?”

“Hey!”

She loosens her hold long enough to wipe the few tears off his cheeks before clutching on tighter, nails digging into his cheeks. “I need you to listen to the words I’m saying,” she says, each word enunciated and slow like she thinks Steve’s stupid. “I know it hurts, but Eddie’s just some boy.”

She says the word “boy” like that in and of itself is some cardinal sin, mouth puckered up like it tastes bad on her tongue. Steve laughs, just a little, and she beams at him.

“He’s just a gross, icky boy, but you, Steve Harrington,” she says his name like it’s a revelation. “It has shocked me to my core, but I really, really like you, and I don’t want to have to kill Munson if he tells everyone in town about this, okay? Blood makes me squeamish.”

Steve laughs again, all tears and snot and gross-sounding phlegm. Robin grimaces, but doesn’t let go of him.

“Eddie won’t tell anyone,” Steve replies, pretty sure he’s telling the truth. “He’s too nice.”

She pulls his face closer, eyes boring into his as she says, “he made you cry,” like there is no worse crime. Steve loves her so much.

“I lied to him, Rob.”

Robin sighs, slumping into him until they both tumble down onto her unmade bed, quilts and sheets and comforters lumpy beneath them. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate him, alright?” she asks, shoving a stuffed elephant into his arms. Steve squeezes it to his chest and stares up at the little glow-in-the-dark stars taped up on her ceiling. “I don’t give a fuck about Munson—I’m here for you.”

And no matter how much he wants to defend Eddie, it’s a comfort to hear. With Chrissy and Jeff, he’s not sure where their loyalties will shake out. Eddie’s their friend, even if they’re Steve’s too. When their newly-forming group fractures at the seams, he’s not sure where they’ll land.

But, he’s got Robin, and maybe that’ll be enough.

“Can I spend the night?” he whispers. “I sort of left my car at the quarry along with my house keys.”

Robin spins around, her hair tickling Steve’s nose as she makes herself comfortable nestled into Steve’s side. “You’re a disaster,” she sighs, “but, yeah. Let me go ask my mom.”

*** 

In the morning, while Steve’s still starfished out on her bedroom floor, Chrissy calls. Robin’s mom is the one that picks up, but when she yells up the stairs, Robin comes running.

Chrissy’s tinny voice sounds frantic as she asks, “have you seen Steve?” quickly enough that Robin barely catches it. “He was at Eddie’s yesterday, but his car’s not at his house, and he’s not picking up his phone, and I’m so wor—“

“He left his car at the quarry,” Robin cuts in, relieved when it shuts Chrissy up. A small part of her burns that it took Chrissy so long to call her when she’d asked her to, like without Robin in front of her, she’d fled the other girl’s mind entirely. “He’s with me.”

“Oh, good,” Chrissy sighs, sounding so relieved that Robin has a hard time holding onto her grudge. “Did he…tell you?”

Robin glances at her mom, standing in front of the stove and stirring eggs around in a pan, well within hearing range. So, all she says is, “he told me.”

“Is he okay?”

Robin runs her fingers through her hair, trying to smooth down her bedhead. “Would you be?” Chrissy doesn’t reply—she doesn’t need to, not when they both know there’s only one answer to that question. “Look, I’ve got him, okay?”

“Okay,” she sighs, sounding relieved. Before she can make her excuses to get off the phone, Chrissy asks. “Hey Robin?”

Robin hums in reply, out of words.

“Thank you.”

With that, the girl that Robin likes hangs up on her, probably to call her own boyfriend and update him on the situation. Robin’s gut clenches, but she tries to take her own advice—Chrissy’s just a girl, but Steve? He’s her friend.

“I’m trying not to be nosy,” her mom prompts, and Robin jumps, having entirely forgotten she was there, “but is your friend okay?”

Robin tries to think of a non-outing way to explain the situation before giving it up as a bad job and just saying, “he’s going through a break-up.” Emotion-wise, it feels close enough to the truth anyway.

Her mom spins, spatula in hand as she raises an eyebrow at Robin and asks, “moves on fast, doesn’t he?”

“Ew, Mom!” Robin cries, stalking out of the kitchen to the sound of her mom’s laughter.

Steve’s up when she goes back into her room, rubbing his eyes blearily as he looks around her room like this is the first time he’s seeing it. “You want breakfast?” she asks.

They eat eggs, hash browns and toast, her mom keeping the invasive questions to a minimum, and then they commandeer the TV in the living room to watch shitty romcoms and complain about their disastrous love lives.

It’s fun—Robin can’t remember the last time she’s had a friend over, much less one she can be honest with, so when Steve makes no move to leave as afternoon turns into evening, she doesn’t mention it either, just shoves a baggy clean shirt and a pair of her dad’s sweatpants at him and demands he change.

It’s in the dark of her room that night that Steve asks, “can I sit with you at lunch on Monday?”

Robin smiles, picturing King Steve Harrington strolling up to the band geek’s table like he belongs there. “Course, dingus,” she replies, and is rewarded by Steve reaching up to take her hand.

“Love you, Rob,” he murmurs.

She stares down into the darkness, gobsmacked as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep. Tomorrow morning, her mom will drive Steve to pick up his car, and he’ll go home.

But right now, tonight, Steve Harrington loves her, and he fell asleep holding her hand.

PART 16

[steddieprompts]

Wrote a whole mini-fic again. sorry.

High School, no Upside Down, platonic Steddie:

Sometimes Steve wants to be left alone. Sure the popularity has its perks, but it can also wear a guy down. There's no quiet in his social life. Tommy and Carol are always badgering him about things and girls are vying for his attention. It's nice but... it's just alot.

That's why Steve is ducking through the library door during his lunch period instead of going to the cafeteria. He squat-walks behind the low book shelves to wards the back of the library hoping Kelly didn't see him out in the hall. She's been haunting his locker the last two days and while she's cute, she's not really Steve's type and he hates letting girls down.

He reaches the back of the library and opens one of the study room doors, swings inside quickly and shuts the door with a soft click. Letting out a deep breath he presses his forehead to the worn wood. Finally, some quiet.

"Uh..." Steve nearly jumps out of his skin at the voice. He whips around to see Eddie Munson at the table. "Sorry, your highness. Occupied."

Steve lets out another breath (Jesus, can't he catch a second to breathe around here?). "Shit, Munson, you scared the hell out of me."

"A thousand apologies," Eddie replied sarcastically. "Now, if you don't mind?" Eddie made a shooing motion towards the door.

Steve looked through the door window and out into the library... Kelly had seen him. She was slowly making her way across the library, head swiveling back and forth like some sort of search dog on the scent.

Steve pulled away from the window, back flat against the door.

"Look, Eddie, I promise I won't mess with you. You won't even know I'm here."

Eddie's eyes flicked to the window before a pointy smirk crossed his face. "Now that's interesting. What's got the great Steve Harrington hiding out in a room with the freak?" Eddie moved to the window, peering out like Steve had. "Kelly Jacobs? That's who you're hiding from?"

"She wants to go out with me but I hate trying to let them down easy because it never works and she's not my type and I don't even want to date anyone right now and my head hurts and..."

"Alright, easy there, playboy." Steve leveled a look at him before Eddie looked back out the window.

"Uh, she's uh..."

"What?"

"She's coming." Eddie said.

They moved at the same time, Eddie throwing himself back into his chair and Steve throwing himself behind the big wooden desk, hoping the angle and the other chair were enough to hide him.

He held his breath as the door clicked open.

"Have you seen Steve?" He heard her ask, could see her sneakers through the tangle of table and chair legs.

"Steve who?" Eddie asked dismissively.

"Harrington." She replied impatiently.

"The hair? Haven't seen a strand of him."

Steve heard Kelly let out a scoff and shut the door but not before a quiet "freak" floated into the room.

Once the door had clicked shut Steve let his head fall back against the wall with another sigh, closing his eyes. There was a few seconds of quiet before he heard the creak of Eddie's chair. He squinted his eyes open to see Eddie peering at him over the edge of the desk.

"Such a charming young lady. You sure you don't want to..."

"No." Steve cut him off. "Thanks... for all that."

"Yeah, let's not make it a habit. Trying to keep my conscience clean and lying to the student body isn't helping." Eddie said with mock sincerity. Steve huffed out a laugh at that.

They didn't say much for the last ten minutes of the period, but Steve did get up and sit catty corner from Eddie at the study table, head pillowed on his arms and eyes closed. Ten minutes of beautiful quiet.

Problem was that ten minutes was addicting. Steve didn't hang out much at the library before... except when he was dating Nancy... but now he's seeing the advantage.

The next week Tommy had hinted at ditching after lunch so they wouldn't have to put up with Mrs. O'Donnell's class, but Steve was barely making it through her class as it was. If he missed another class he probably would fail, then he wouldn't graduate. Plus they had an essay due in her class at the end of the week that Steve had barely started...

He ducked into the library again before Tommy could track him down in the hall. Quickly he made his way to the study rooms, two of which were occupied by actual study groups and one... well.

Steve cracked open the door and stared at Eddie until he looked up from his, again, numerous notebooks and books.

"Again?" Eddie sighed.

"Listen, I promise I'll leave you alone like last time." Steve said stepping into the room.

"You should probably just tell her instead of running away from her. That's gotta be bad for your image, no?"

Steve slumped into his chair and ran his hands over his face. "It's not Kelly."

"Oh, a new admirer. Probably shouldn't be running from them either, honestly..."

"No! No, it's Tommy."

Eddie let out a low whistle, "Wow. Didn't know he swung that way. I guess all those accusations he threw at me were a little hypocritical."

"What? No! Tommy's not gay! Jesus."

"It's okay if he is. You should be flattered..."

"Dude!" Steve squawked at him. A slow smirk spread over Eddie's face. "Oh, fuck you, man." Steve laughed and Eddie chuckled in response.

"Why are you avoiding him?"

"He wants to ditch, but I can't miss O'Donnell class again."

Eddie let out a sympathetic groan and held up one of the notebooks. The words "State's Rights and the Civil War" were scrawled across the top.

"You too?" Steve winced. Eddie nodded.

"Maybe we can help each other." Steve said, cautiously. It was one thing to invade Eddie's space. Suggesting they work together was an entirely different beast.

"Aren't you failing?" Eddie squinted at him.

"Didn't you already fail once?" Steve squinted back.

"Yeah. Sure. This can't backfire in the slightest." Eddie said before sliding over so he was directly in front of Steve. "Let's do this, Big boy." Steve raised an eyebrow but got out his notebook none the less.

Steve met Eddie in the library for the next three days. He told Tommy and Carol that he needed some time to study. No, they couldn't come with him, can't they spend three days on their own? Jesus.

He conveniently left Munson out of the conversation. He didn't want to here what Tommy and Carol had to say about him studying with "the freak."

And it turned out Eddie was actually really good at understanding history... Steve just had to keep him on track.

"Dude, if you open that dragon nerd book one more time I'm taking that sandwich back." Steve huffed at Eddie who pulled the half of Steve's sandwich that he gave him to his chest.

"Finders keepers." Eddie said taking a huge bite.

"Dude, I gave it to you." Steve said through a chuckle.

They turned in their essays on Monday. That Wednesday Steve slammed into the study room.

"Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, Steven." Eddie said, dramatically clutching his chest. Steve was already swinging his backpack off his shoulder and throwing a ziplock bag of cheez-its at Eddie.

"Did you get it back?" Steve asked, dropping into his seat.

Eddie stared at him for a second before reaching into his bag and pulling out his essay, slapping it down in front of Steve.

"B minus." Eddie said, barely keeping the grin off his face. "She gave me the most evil look when she gave it back." Eddie smirked.

"Dude! Awesome!" Steve said grinning at the paper. "I hope mine was enough."

"It will be. It was solid, man, don't worry."

Steve looked up at him with so much sincerity Eddie almost felt like he should look away. "Thank you, Eddie."

Eddie shrugged.

"I mean it." Steve insisted.

"Yeah... no problem." Eddie murmured. Steve nodded and then pulled his bag into his lap, taking out a notebook and his lunch.

That night found Eddie on the phone with Jeff, describing the last few weeks and his encounters with Steve.

"He's been coming into the library during my study hall period. We worked on O'Donnell's essay together. He *feeds me,* dude!"

"Feeds you?"

"He keeps, like, giving me parts of his lunch!"

"He-" Eddie could hear Jeff starting to laugh. "He actually-" Jeff cuts himself off with his own laughter.

"Jeffery!"

"You're friends with The Hair!" Jeff finally gets out.

"Oh.. shit," Eddie considered it for a minute. "No way. We just had a mutual essay. right?"

Jeff's laughter finally calms down. "I dont know, man, sounds like more than that."

"... Harrington?" Eddie mused in amazement.

"I told you he wasn't that bad." Jeff gloated.

"Shut up."

The next few days Steve didn't storm into Eddie's study room, but Tuesday he did.

"Hey." He said, sitting down at the desk.

"Hey." Eddie said, watching him and expecting Steve to say something. But he just pulled out what seemed to be algebra homework, and his lunch, and didn't say anything.

"What?" Steve finally said, looking back at Eddie.

"Nothing. Just. ya know, thought after you got through the essay you'd go back to, ya know, Tommy and Carol."

Steve shrugged, taking half his sandwich and sliding the other half, still in the bag, over to Eddie. "Didn't feel like dealing with them today."

"Wait..." Eddie said, slow smile growing on his face, "You, Steve Harrington. would rather hang out with me, Eddie "the freak" Munson, than Tommy and Carol."

"Don't call yourself that. And yeah. At least you don't try to stuff freshmen into lockers."

"Oh my god, Jeff was right!"

"Huh?"

"We're friends!" Eddie smiled, what probably seemed a little manically, at Steve.

"Uh, yeah..." Steve timidly offered back.

"Let me tell you something, Harrington," Eddie chuckled, picking up the sandwich, "This is not how I saw my super senior year going."

Steve shrugged and pulled Eddie's Dungeons and Dragons manual towards him, flipping open the cover. "So how does this game work anyways?"

Eddie grinned. "Strap in, Stevie, you've got alot to learn."

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

Ditto

Steve Harrington x Reader

You had known Steve all through high school, you were even part of his little click when he was King Steve. You got ditched along with Tommy and Carol but you weren’t like them, Steve knew that and he felt a little bad leaving you behind. But that’s high school you guess and now looking back it seemed so long ago.

He had heard (quite reassuringly) that you’d stopped hanging out with them after some party in senior year where Tommy thought it would be funny to throw you into the pool.

Everyone knows you can’t swim, right?

Surely Steve wasn’t the only one that paid that much attention to you.

A specific memory he had of you was in junior year when he was on the swim team, you’d always wait around for him to finish practise for a ride home but you wouldn’t go anywhere near the water edge.

You had bumped into each other again at Star Court too a few years ago, a stripey top and funny hat adorning his head. It had been the first time you really saw him since graduation.

“Nice uniform.” You had quipped with a scoff and fond smile. Leaning against your car door as he walked from his own.

He had look you up and down, slowly from head to toe, taking in your white paper hat, yellow and white checked dress and white tennis shoes. You were clearly waitressing in the diner up on the food court.

“Ditto.” He had retaliated with a smirk before walking off, hair perfectly placed and his shoulders shaking as he laughed at himself walking in.

Over the years you had then obviously seen each other across town, Family Video mostly, sometimes at the pool if it was warm enough and you both had time off work.

But now most recently as you’re both nearly 24 it was in The Hideout.

He was friends with Eddie Munson now, truly reformed King Steve.

Tonight The Hideout was particularly busy and you waved over to Robin as you were stuck chatting with some random guy a few years above you in school.

His name totally lost on you as your focus was stolen by Steve.

As usual.

She grinned and waved back before grabbing hold of a reluctant Steve and dragged them both over to where you were.

“Hey!” She greeted hugging you tight, you greeted them both, extending a hug to Steve too.

His fingers lingered a little on your waist and you looked up at him hopeful, a glimmer of something as your eyes met. The two beers you’d had giving you the false bravado to give him a grin, suggestive and flirty.

“Hi Steve.” You chirped happily and hadn’t even noticed the guy you were talking to sulk off with a pout.

“Hi honey.” He replied, a name he had given you in high school, said because you were always sickly sweet to him and back then the casual flirting was nothing.

Now it gave you butterflies and a smitten smile you’d tuck under your teeth to try and hide.

“Eddie playing tonight?” You asked looking between them for an answer.

“Yeah and Robin has dragged me out on a double date.” Steve grumbled with an eye roll.

You were slapped cold all of a sudden and it was a sweat box in this place.

“You’re here on a date?” You asked as if making him realise what he had even just said., your head titled to the side and taking a step back from him in disappointment.

He definitely didn’t want you to think he was on a date, or interested in dating.

Well, dating anyone but you that is.

“Oh uh, yeah but not really it’s just-“ he was cut off by Robin grabbing his arm again with excitement.

“They’re here! Come on let’s get a drink!” She dragged him off again in a flash and you were left red cheeked and pouting.

Blinking out of the hurt you looked around for your friends, you had met them at college, staying close to Hawkins you would commute to campus and they became your best friends.

Rejoining them you couldn’t help but be distracted, the girl Steve was on a date with was blonde, on the younger side and definitely interested in him. Giving him the same smitten grin you probably were when he first got here.

She was laughing at all his jokes, which you knew were lame but you knew why she was laughing.

You do the exact same.

Looking away back to your friends distracted you while Eddie was on stage, one of them crushing on him bad. He was good you have to give him that and when he threw you a wink your friends squealed latching onto your arm.

“I’ll introduce you come on!” You had said a few hours later, Eddie and Steve currently sitting in the booth they claimed.

Robin, her date and Steve’s date were dancing to the next band.

“Hey pretty!” Eddie greeted jumping up and hugging you.

He’d become one of the coolest guys you knew, and he definitely wasn’t The Freak anymore.

“Hey! You were amazing up there! My friend Sasha is a huge fan, Sasha this is Eddie we went to high school together and you know Steve you met him before.” You introduced nicely and Eddie took an immediate interest in Sasha.

“You’re like so cool, I wish I could play an instrument.” She gushed instantly.

“Well it’s not that hard princess, want me to teach you? It’s all about the fingers.” He purred making her giggle and drag him to the bar.

“Hey you want some air?” Steve asked you standing up and putting a hand on your lower back. You were once again completely taken by him, he was looking down at you for an answer, his cologne wrapping you in his familiar warm presence.

“Sure!” You followed him outside to the small seating area, nowhere near enough heaters but Steve sat down close enough to keep you pretty much on fire with his presence, but he sat down with a huff clearly enjoying the fresh air and being away from the groups.

“What’s up Stevie? Not having fun?” You asked a little teasingly and with a small nudge of your shoulders.

“Not really.” He confessed making you look down at your lap, fingers picking at nails. “You look pretty tonight.” He followed up quickly and you could feel him watching you, waiting for a reaction.

“Steve.” You groaned trying to hide your smile and it made him laugh out loud, you felt his laugh rumble through him you were sitting that close.

“You know you’re pretty, but you look especially pretty right now.” He reaffirmed and you looked up at him.

“You’re on a date right now.” You reminded and he rolled his eyes.

“I don’t care honey.” He reassured. “I was hoping you weren’t here tonight, you are literally the last person on earth, I want knowing I was doing Robin this favour.” He told you honestly and the excitement burst in your chest.

The years of flirting and tip toeing around the attraction seemingly becoming real.

“You finally admitting you like me Harrington?” You joked knowing everyone teased you both throughout high school, your late teens and early twenties being taken up by much the same but it was a little less jokey.

“Depends.” He teased making you glare at him mockingly, a glint in your eyes that he swore in that moment to himself he’d never get bored of.

“Depends on what?” You played along.

“On whether you’re admitting to liking me too.” He laughed and you smiled right up at him.

“Oh right. Well, if you’re playing that game I’ve liked you since we were freshmen, actually I think specifically it was when you told Tommy to fuck off because he pulled my hair all the way back in middle school.” Steve laughed at the memory before looking at you and nodding slowly.

“Ditto.” He whispered leaning down slightly and lowering his gaze to your lips.

“You gonna kiss me now?” You asked hopeful making him smile at your impatience.

“Oh yeah, I’m going to kiss you now honey.” And with that his lips met yours, gently and softly making you warm all over.

When he finally pulled away you rolled your lips into your mouth before smiling.

“Finally.” You told him happily.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

do you want to be my valentine?

steve harrington x gn!reader

“do you want to be my valentine?”

six years old. with chubby knees and chubby cherub cheeks to match. dressed by your mother in shades of pink and red, holding out a handmade pink paper card. splattered in too much glitter and messily cut hearts sloppily glued down.

your valentine, a boy who turns seven in two months, stares at you with wide brown eyes. he also has light freckles scattered over his face, your mom said beauty marks were from past lives.

“yeah, sure!” steve smiles with delight. your heart beat quickens it’s pulse at the high pitched reply.

do you want to be my valentine?

few years later turning you from six to thirteen.

steve didn’t show up to school today, so you biked to his home once the bell rang loudly. sure the idea of handing out cards was childish now in your pre-teen years, but you always give one to steve and he always excepts with delight.

do you want to be my valentine?

hawkins middle changes into hawkins high school. now at the age of seventeen boy were dumb, like always, but now horny was attached. steve surrounded himself with jackass friends and girls that happily flung themselves at him.

you weren’t even a thought once he became ‘the king’. you gifted him a valentine in sophomore year, sliding the envelope into his locker. you watched as he walked with his friends durning passing period and stopped at his last. carol and tommy started making fun of him when the red paper fell to the floor.

so for the first time, you didn’t ask steve to be your valentine. and don’t plan to in the coming years.

do you want to be my valentine?

scoops was having a week long sale for a valentine’s themed desert. the s s cupid. strawberry ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, pink and white sprinkles and a dollop of whipped cream.

you’ve had to stand and watch as couples feed each other. you wanted to smash their faces into the sugary delights.

your just jealous. jealous they have someone while you daydream about harrington. who you work with while slowly rekindling your friendship.

robin, your new friend, says steve’s ‘got it bad for you’ her words. you just brush her off and ignore the warmth covering your ears.

during your lunch, steve sets a s s cupid in front of you and your homemade sandwich.

“what’s this?” raising a brow at the tooth ache treat.

steve sat in the chair across from you, a pink tint on his apples. “special treat for a special someone.” his fingers curled around the table edge.

now both brows raised, “oh? so i’m a special someone to you, harrington?” trying to tease steve while digging your spoon into the softening ice cream.

“well yeah.” he shrugged, “you’re my first valentine and haven’t done… that, in a few years. so, i have a question.” you could see the edge leaving steve each second.

“what’s the question?” scooping ice cream into your mouth, watching steve who watches you.

he took a deep swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing, “i was wondering, and hoping, if you’d like to be my valentine this year? and hopefully many more in the future?”

you couldn’t help your smile, “got tired of being asked?”

now steve smiled, “no, i liked being asked. by you and only you and then you stopped and- and it sucked. and it made me realize how much i like having those two things in my life.” he reached his arm across the table, fingers seeking out your own.

you hesitated before grazing your fingertips over his then linking hands together. “i missed asking you every year.”

steve grinned brightly, “you can ask every year. when ever you want.”

[miraculousmultifan]

The months following Steve's fight with Billy and the excursion through the Mind Flayer’s tunnels found Steve at a bit of a loss. The animosity between him and Hargrove had only grown exponentially, but it didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Sure, Hargrove sucked ass, and he had definitely taken over as the newest reigning douchebag, but that kind of stuff just didn’t matter to Steve anymore.

So at school, he found himself sitting with Nancy and Jonathan during lunch. It was a bit awkward considering Nancy and Jon were dating, but he didn’t exactly have any other friends, and he really didn't want to sit alone.

It was early February, and Steve was picking at his cafeteria food, barely listening to the conversation Nancy and Jonathan were having. He was lost in his own thoughts, staring into space blankly.

Across the cafeteria, Eddie Munson was jumping onto a table and taunting several different cliques as he went on a long monologue about society and social norms that most students tended to tune out. Steve watched him with a small smile, pushing his food around his tray. Then, Eddie was throwing barbs at Hargrove, Tommy H, and Carol. Steve winced slightly, knowing the words probably applied to him too, but he couldn't help feeling that Eddie wasn’t exactly saying anything untrue about them.

Before he could tear his attention away, Eddie was turning to face him. Steve's eyes widened. He hadn't even said anything! He’d been laying low ever since their last run-in with the Upside Down, just trying to graduate. So why was Eddie putting his attention on him now?

Eddie jumped down from the table and sauntered over to where Steve was sitting, throwing a leg over the bench to straddle the spot next to him. “Harrington.”

Now that Eddie was so close, Steve could see a slight red tint to his eyes, and he relaxed a little. He was just high.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve replied, giving him a weak smile in response.

Most of the attention on Eddie had dispersed, but Steve could still feel the piercing gaze of Hargrove on the side of his face. That jackass just would not leave him alone, even if he was trying to avoid altercations for Max's sake.

Eddie leaned an elbow on the table to hold his head up with his hand. “How's the fall from grace treating you, my liege?”

Steve blinked. “Huh?”

Jonathan leaned over from where he was chatting with Nancy. “He’s calling you a king. Asking about how you're doing after everyone dropped you for Billy.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie smirked. “With more dramatic flair than that, but yeah, essentially.”

“Oh.” Steve floundered, looking between Nancy and Jon as he tried to think of an answer. “Well, it’s been nice not having as much attention, I guess. Nothing all that interesting has happened to me.”

Nancy hid a snort behind her hand, turning to bury her face into Jonathan’s shoulder. Eddie raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t comment on her reaction.

“Surely the life of a king has to have some frivolities. Raging parties, swooning ladies, the like…”

Steve scrunched his nose. “Nah, man. My parents cut off my allowance after my last concussion, so I don’t exactly have the funds for that kind of thing anymore.” He didn’t know why he was confiding that kind of information in Eddie, but it wasn’t like he cared that much about what people thought of him anymore. Eddie could spread it around if he really wanted to. “I just babysit Nancy and Jon’s little brothers and their friends. I promise it’s nothing interesting.”

Smirking, Eddie tilted his head to the side. “I'm sure you could make anything interesting, Harrington. Especially looking like that.”

Steve blushed bright red from the tips of his ears to the base of his neck. Oh god. Was Eddie flirting with him? “Oh. Um, thank you! I'm sure you're pretty interesting too.”

That seemed to snap Eddie out of whatever weird flirty persona he had let settle over him. “Right. Good talk. I'm gonna go now. Have a good lunch, Steve.”

And then Eddie was gone, back to his table as he ranted at his friends with increasingly frantic gestures. Steve stared after him for a bit, biting his lip and trying to make sense of the feelings stirring in his chest. On the other side of the table, Nancy let out a pointed cough with a smug smirk.

“So…” She started. “Wanna tell us what that was all about?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “You witnessed the exact same thing that I did, Nance. I don't have any insider information.”

Nancy giggled. “No, not that. I’m talking about how you blushed like a little schoolgirl when Eddie called you interesting. You wanna tell us about it?”

Shooting another look at Eddie’s table, Steve started to reply before he noticed that some of Eddie’s friends were looking at him. His eyes widened and he whipped back around. “I have no clue what you're talking about. Jon, back me up here.”

“Sorry, dude.” Jonathan winced with a sheepish shrug. “You were pretty red. I mean he did call you hot, so I guess I get it…”

Steve sighed and let his head drop to the table. “I really don’t appreciate the psychoanalysis, Nance. He came over here, talked to us, called the way I look interesting, and left. Sure, I may have gotten a little red, but he was leaning really close.”

Smirking, Nancy leaned over the table to flick the back of Steve’s head. “You’re wrong about one thing. He didn’t come over to talk to us. He only talked to you. I think he finds you more than just interesting.”

Standing up from the table abruptly, Steve shook his head. “We’re not talking about this. It’s not like it matters that much anyway. He was probably just trying to mess with me. I’ll see you guys later.” Steve grabbed his tray and walked off, trying and failing to stop himself from sneaking a glance at Eddie’s table.

Much to Steve’s surprise, Eddie was looking right back at him. When their eyes met, he smirked and waggled his fingers at Steve in a wave. Steve blushed, his eyes wide, and he stumbled, almost bumping into another student in the process.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Eddie hated this and he'd just started.

See, he was so proud when he made it, when he got his first office job. He saw what decades of physical labor did to Wayne's back, his hands, and he wanted to make his uncle proud. So he kept applying and applying and getting ignored and rejected and finally, finally he got a job in a pretty large corporate. Not exactly something prestigious, but hey, it had potential. The experience counted and all that.

He thought maybe workplaces would be different, that the good ol' high school dynamic would fuck off, but no. He was sitting at his desk, trying to fill in paperwork after a taxing phone call, but all he could focus on was whispering from the neighboring cubicle that was ostentatiously loud. He didn't know who sat there yet, the guy had been on vacation for the two weeks Eddie was in the company. From the stuff he was hearing, he was getting introduced anyway and not exactly the way he'd have liked to be.

"Can you believe they actually let him work here?" It was Carol, of course it was, the office gossip and mean girl knockoff. "I mean, he doesn't even look decent! Did you see that hair?" Okay, that hurt. He actually pulled his hair into a neat bun every morning, but you can't please some people. "And he has tattoos, what would our customers think if they actually met him, plus you should have heard the rumors about his past-!"

But just as he was about to slam down the pile of paperwork and either take an extended smoke break or gently ask Carol to go fuck a polar bear, he heard another voice. Bored and wonderfully bitchy.

"That's absolutely fascinating, Carol. Please tell me more, what could this guy possibly have done? It must be something juicy. Did he perhaps fuck his boss during the Christmas party and then lie about it to his boyfriend of five years? Oh wait no. That was you. Silly me."

Eddie had to bite his pencil to stay quiet, but his whole chest hurt by trying to keep the snickering in. And then the offended gasp. "I- you promised you wouldn't-!"

"I didn't promise shit, Carol. You just came to me, cried your eyes out - bad move by the way, invest in some waterproof mascara for god's sake, mascara in wrinkles doesn't good on anyone, and yes, you do have wrinkles - and tried to play the victim. Except I heard your small proposition to the guy before so it didn't really work out. But it's fine, you know," and oooh, the tone was smug, so bored, Eddie loved this guy already, "Tommy saw you as well and had a good time with Nicole to get even. So there's nothing to worry about. Now tell me, what did this horrible Eddie Munson do to summon wrath of such a righteous woman such as yourself?"

Eddie heard a sharp sound as Carol got up from the desk. "Fuck you, Steve Harrington," she spat out and sped past Eddie's seat. He just gave her a small salute.

When the sound of high heels faded, Eddie leaned over the cubicle wall and knocked to draw the guy's attention. And yeah, maybe he was a little bit biased because he'd just obliterated a textbook definition of a shrew, but this Steve was fucking gorgeous, light brown eyes looking at him, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.

"Oh hi," said Steve and offered his hand, shaking Eddie's. "Sorry for that. I'm Steve Harrington and whatever deepest, darkest secrets you're hiding, I don't care, I'm pretty sure I've heard them all. What did you do? Shave your head in school? Join a cult? Cut dolls apart and chant hail Satan?"

That had Eddie laughing again, but he still had an introduction to make. A proper one. "Nice to meet you, Steve. Eddie Munson, and I'm worse than your darkest nightmares. I sometimes wear socks in sandals."

Steve's eyebrow twitched. "Oh, Carol was right, you are a monster!" he muttered. "Speaking of monsters..." His head leaned to the side, towards Carol who was angrily carrying her coffee mug, her mascara running again.

Before he could catch himself, Eddie leaned over the wall and whispered as loudly as he could muster. "Can you believe some people wear dotted dresses with stripes on their stockings? We can't all be born with taste, I guess...tragic."

And again, maybe Eddie was just biased, but Steve's laughter was so pretty that it actually made dealing with Carol's bullshit worth it.

[thoroughlycollected]

really, i understand exactly what you’re talking about. they would be sooooooo good at a subtle 24/7 lifestyle dynamic. Steve’s a great team player, he takes instruction super well! it would be so pleasant and Eddie would never be concerned about whether something he asked Steve to take care of got done or not because Steve is thorough! he asks follow-up questions and reads the room and anticipates people’s needs, he’s laser focused on providing perfect service.

“I could— ugh. I don’t know, I could maybe try throwing the Harrington name around? See if it gets me a pity hire or something. And then I’d have my own money, and you- you could stop selling if you wanted to.”

“What?” Eddie snorts. “Want me to be your kept boy, is that it?”

Steve says nothing, but his face goes hot, and he knows Eddie can read him by the way his eyes narrow and his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, Harrington, see. The thing is,” he flicks his cigarette; crushes it. “I much prefer to be the keeper.”

[seelie-regent]

Omegaverse CorrodedKing au

So Steve was close friends with the whole group throughout elementary and middle school. You literally never saw Steve without at least one of them. They did everything together and knew everything about each other. They didn't keep secrets from each other and were never apart for more than 12 hours at a time. When they formed Corroded Coffin in sixth grade Steve was their vocalist.

Steve's parents didn't exactly like it but didn't do anything about it. Figuring Steve would grow out of them. Mature and realize they weren't up to par to be around someone with the status of a Harrington. Figuring that when Steve presented as an alpha like they expected their little group would fall apart. Except Steve doesn't present as an alpha. He presents almost a year later than he was expected to as an omega less than a month before he's supposed to start high school.

His parents are furious. Especially since the rest of the band has already presented as alpha's. His parents forbid him from seeing them again. Steve tries to argue but it's shut down almost instantly with a threat to have him sent to an omega finishing school out of state. Not even a week after Steve presents his parents are looking into ways to hide his designation while seeing if there are any alpha's to marry Steve off to once he's of age that will benefit them.

So with no choice but to bow to his parents wishes he's forced to cut contact with the band and go on suppressants and wear false scent patches to make him seem like an alpha. He's forced into befriending Tommy and Carol who are the kids of his parents 'business partners. They force him to toss everything related to the band. Pictures, clothes, gifts, books, and everything related to D&D.

On top of everything Steve is made aware that Tommy and Carol are to report everything he does back to his parents. So he knows he won't get a chance to explain anything to the band.

Come the start of Steve's freshman year and the bands confused and devastated for Steve's "abandonment" of them. Their hurt turns to anger that they take out on Steve in whatever ways they can. Constantly talking about how they should have expected it given Steve's parents. Steve, desperate for a distraction, throws himself into sports and partying. Which the band uses as further "proof" of Steve being evil.

It doesn't take long for Steve to develop rejection sickness from the bands constant taunts. Not that he blames them. He knows how it looks. He wishes he could explain. But he can't. Better to be around them and see them even if they hate him then to never see them again.

It doesn't take long for Carol who's also an omega to realize what's happened. And to Steve and her own surprise she does her best to help him. They might not be able to go against their parents but they can redirect Tommy and his friends attention. They can be there for each other.

Steve does end up dating Nancy still. Seeing bits of the boys in her. She's nerdy like them, albeit in a different way. She's got the same big eyes and fluffy curls Eddie has. She's got Gareth's anger that she desperately tries to hide. She's got Jeff's determination. She's got Doug's sense of humor. And Steve misses them so much. And at this point Nancy may as well be as close as he'll ever have to having his boys, his alpha's, back.

Things still fall apart. Steve finds the courage to break away from Tommy except this time Carol goes with him. And he still tries to cling to Nancy, to the pieces of his alpha's that she has, and it's still bullshit come Halloween. What Steve isn't expecting when he comes into school the day after Halloween though is for his secret to be out. For Tommy to have told Billy as revenge when he saw Carol leaving with Steve and trying to comfort him. For Billy to have told the whole school. He and Carol leave as soon as they hear people talking about it. Scared to deal with the fallout of this.

The band started putting the pieces together as soon as they heard what everyone was saying. The more they think about it the more pieces they realize they're missing. It's when they really start to think about what they remember of Steve's parents. That they finally look back and think about Steve constantly looking at them. The longing in his eyes every time. How the looks of pain they always agreed were just wishful thinking when he would watch them. How they had written off the look of Steve's face every time one of them made a comment. How Steve always seemed a little off. How he seemed sick more often than he ever was when they were kids. And all the pieces they're putting together make them almost sick with regret. Desperate to fix it but horrified to realize they don't know how.

Dustin still stumbles upon Steve however Carol is with him this time. So it's Steve and Carol who face the demodogs to protect the kids. When Billy shows up and Steve tries to make him leave he propositions Steve. Steve laughs in his face, because seriously who did he think he was, which only serves to further piss Billy off as he storms into the house. Steve still gets beat to shit but Carol breaks Billy's nose when throwing things at him to try and get him away from Steve giving Max the distraction to knock him out.

Come school the following week everyone has heard some version of the story or another. The band can't decide which version is worse. The one closest to the truth, that Billy attacked Steve while he was babysitting after he turned him down, or that it was Steve's parents furious that the secret had gotten out. Steve's fairly certain the only reason that one isn't true is because he parents still haven't returned home. The band is desperate to apologize but still can't figure out how. Even if they wanted to the Party is keeping Steve so busy that they wouldn't be able to get a minute alone with him. Which might have been Carol's fault. She had accidentally let slip that the band was why Steve had rejection sickness while at the hospital and the kids had misunderstood and taken it as the band had done something to hurt Steve. Any time one of them tries to get Steve outside of school one of the kids suddenly pops up needing something. Dustin, Max, and surprisingly enough Mike are the worst ones about it.

Meanwhile Steve has no idea. He has no clue the party is keeping his away from Corroded Coffin. And he has no idea that his boys are trying to apologize. After several weeks Corroded Coffin starts to think Steve does know though. That it was Steve's idea. (It was Mike's) That Steve really doesn't want them around anymore and that this time it's their fault for being so casually and constantly cruel to him. So they back off.

Then comes summer. Steve and Carol working at Scoops. Carol falling for Robin. Robin oblivious and falling for Carol. And Steve and Robin becoming Steve&Robin one day early in summer when Steve accidentally tells her about Corroded Coffin and the truth of his rejection sickness. Then come the Russians. And truth serum. And Carol and Robin getting together. And Steve talking about how he dated Nancy because of everything she reminded him of. Completely unaware of the fact that his boys were right there.

Eddie has smelled Steve a scent the whole band was familiar with thanks to school and hanging around Scoops. Eddie had followed and seen Steve once more beat to shit and rushed to get the rest of the band so they could try and help their omega. Because maybe Steve didn't want them around but they couldn't just leave him like that. So the band walks in at the perfect moment. To hear Carol and Robin pull the full story from him. They're overjoyed to be proven wrong and devastated to hear what Steve says.

The rest plays out more or less the same and the band drags Steve to the hospital. Once he's released they finally talk things out. Steve refuses to accept an apology for any of it and they refuse all of his.

It's not till they tell the kids that the band learns complete truth. The kids are pissed that Steve would date the band much to Steve's confusion. He ends up learning about the small misunderstanding sprouted from Carol's poor explanation. After that the kids are completely on board with the relationship. Dustin latching onto Eddie and Will deciding Gareth is his favorite.

A year and a half later Steve's parents show up having finally found out about the last several years of Hawkins chaos. However they can't do anything. Steve had mated the band and moved out almost year before they show up leaving them with nothing to hold over Steve's head.

Steve can't imagine a timeline where he's happier. He has his boys back. His alpha's. And he gained a best friend, platonic soulmate, and a small pack of chaotic teenagers. There's nothing more he could imagine wanting.

[steddie-island]

Heartache to heartache

Second prompt fill for week 1 of @steddiesmuttyseptember - Makeup sex WC: 1,771 | Rating: E | Tags: Makeup sex, financial insecurity anxiety AO3 Divider credit

It was Eddie's fault that he was laying in bed alone, and he was kicking himself for it.

Mostly his fault. Maybe.

He'd overreacted. Maybe.

Fuck. Steve still didn't realize Eddie didn't just have money to throw around. He'd scrimped and saved (and on a couple of occassions stole) for the things he had. The Munsons didn't just get shit handed to them unless it was bad. Sometimes they'd done shit to deserve it, sure, but sometimes they were just in the wrong goddamn place at the wrong goddamn time and life decided to make them pay.

Eddie had been ready to pay this time. It'd taken him months to save up the money to fix his van. Months of borrowing Wayne's truck, hitching rides from the band, from Steve when he was available. Months of cutting corners, buying the cheaper deodorant (his shampoo and conditioner couldn't really get any cheaper) and forgoing snacks he wanted, choosing instead to shove the pennies and the small bills into the coffee container hidden in the back of his underwear drawer.

When the day came for him to finally pay, when he could get his van (and his independence) back, he pulled up only to be told it'd been taken care of.

Just like that.

Eddie could've credited it to the government, to Hopper, to the generosity of the guys who ran the garage. One look at Steve and he had his answer.

"I wanted to surprise you," Steve said. His face had flushed, he'd run a hand nervously over the back of his neck, had turned on that goddamn smile that he knew melted Eddie's heart.

Not this time.

Eddie had been furious. Beyond, even.

He'd yanked the keys out of the mechanic's hand and stormed to his van, letting his quiet fury engulf him. How dare Steve take this away from him. How dare Steve make his months of scrimping be for nothing. How dare he throw that Harrington money around to try to solve Eddie's problems.

Eddie didn't explode until they were in the trailer together.

"Hey—"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eddie had asked. His hands shook with his anger, his frustration, with the desire to grab this stupid beautiful boy by the shoulders. "What the fuck, Steve?"

"I was helping," Steve said, clearly confused. "I just wanted to help—"

"No, you were just using Daddy's money to make problems go away again."

Steve had winced at that, but then he'd straightened his spine. "Yeah, I used my dad's money. So what? Why does it matter how it got paid for?"

Eddie had tipped his head back, laughed without any humor in his voice. "Right, what does it matter when pretty rich boys can just wave their fucking magic wand and throw their name around and make everyone do whatever the fuck they want."

"Last I checked I didn't have to do that with you. You just do it." Steve's eyes were steely, his jaw set.

"Fuck you, Harrington."

In his bedroom Eddie winced as the rest of the argument played out in his mind. He'd been fucking stupid and now he was sulking.

And Steve wasn't around for him to try to fix things.

"Motherfucker." The heels of his hands pressed into his eyes firmly, as if that would turn off the replying looping again and again. Every cruel thing he'd said that had brought the bitchiness out in Steve, too.

Eddie loved that bitchiness when it wasn't aimed at him. Hell, he'd liked the bitchiness even when Steve had been King Steve, when he was turning it on Tommy or Carol or Billy.

But now he couldn't even watch from the sidelines. He'd fucked it all up, had overreacted, and Steve was gone.

"Fuck this."

Eddie sat up and stuffed both feet into his combat boots. He had his jacket half on and a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth when he opened the front door—

"Oh—"

Steve stood there on the front porch, hand raised like he was poised to knock. His hair was a mess, the collar of his polo was wrinkled. It wouldn't mean much to anyone else but Eddie knew better.

"Steve." Eddie nearly dropped his cigarette. He grabbed it between his fingers and stubbed it out in the ashtray by the door. "Uh— hey."

"Can I come in?" Steve asked.

Fuck. How long since he'd had to ask to come in? How long since he'd had to knock, and not just use the key Eddie had given him when they'd been together three months?

Eddie stepped back, opening the door wider so Steve could slip by him.

"Sorry if this is a bad time. I can come back—"

"I was coming to see you—"

They stopped at the same time. Eddie cleared his throat, pushed a hand through his frizzy curls.

"I'm sorry." Steve wasn't looking at him, was looking at a spot over Eddie's shoulder instead. "That's all I wanted to say. I should've checked with you and I didn't."

Eddie shook his head, and then he was pulling Steve into his arms. "Hey— I'm sorry. You were helping me out, and I just fucking lost it. I'm sorry, Steve."

"No, it's my fault—"

"It's my fault," Eddie said. "Fuck, you were doing something nice and I threw it back in your face."

"I was just thinking you already had to replace so much, I could do that for you," Steve continued. "It wasn't fucking fair, none of what happened was your fault. You didn't deserve any of that shit—"

"Stevie." Eddie caught Steve's face in his hands. "Baby, it wasn't your fault, either. It wasn't your problem to solve—"

"I know!" Steve shook his head. "I know. I'm sorry, I overstepped and I fucked up so bad, you have every right to be upset."

"Not the way I was." Eddie tipped Steve's face up towards him. "I had no right to yell at you the way I did."

"You did—"

"No. I didn't." Eddie rested his hands on either side of Steve's neck and rested their foreheads together. "I'm sorry."

The tension leeched out of Steve's body, and he practically swayed towards Eddie. Eddie was happy to catch him, to help hold him up. Was happy to return the kiss Steve was pressing against his lips.

"I'm sorry," Steve breathed. Eddie just shook his head, went in for another kiss. His hands dropped from Steve's neck to trail down his body, to his thighs.

Physical therapy had at least given him this. Eddie lifted Steve into his arms and started for his bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him, dropped Steve carefully to the bed before kneeling between his thighs.

Steve's eyes were dark and heavy. He tugged his own shirt off then sat up to help with Eddie's shirt, too.

"Fuck…" Eddie tangled a hand into Steve's hair as the other man nipped and bit carefully at his stomach. "Fucking love you."

Steve let out a soft sound, and then Eddie was on him, over him. There were more whispered apologies that were cut off as teeth dug into the skin of a throat, as hands pushed desperately at fabric until they were naked from the waist down, too.

Eddie had lost count of how many times they'd done this, but each time felt like the first. Steve always opened up so beautifully for him. Every moan and whine, the way those big hands gripped at Eddie's shoulders, then his hair when that was all he could reach because Eddie was using his tongue, too.

"Fuck, please—"

Eddie loved the way Steve begged, loved the way he arched towards the touches and used a heel to guide Eddie just where he wanted him.

When Eddie was sure he was open enough he moved over Steve again. "I love you," he whispered.

Steve's response was a moan, to dig his hands into Eddie's back as he was filled. "Eddie, fuck—"

Normally Eddie would make a joke, but it didn't feel like the moment to do that. Instead he threaded a hand with Steve's and brought it up over their heads before he started moving harder. Not fast, but hard, deep, in a rhythm that made Steve's body clench around him and brought out more of those beautiful sounds.

Eddie wanted to commit those sounds to memory. He wanted to record them for the nights they had to be apart, so he could play them on a loop and try to pretend Steve was right there with him.

"More," Steve urged. His voice was breathy, had the edge that Eddie had learned to know meant he was close.

"Love you," Eddie repeated. He drove home again and again. Steve's nails caught against his ass in encouragement. "Mine— mine—"

"Yours, Eddie, fuck don't stop—" Steve met each of Eddie's movements with desperate little rolls of his hips.

When he came it was with a cry, with those strong legs around Eddie's hips, holding him in place and keeping him inside. Eddie followed right after him, spilling deep into the clutch of Steve's body.

Eddie kissed at Steve's jaw as the sweat cooled on their skin. He still had their hands threaded together, was still buried in Steve's body— still had Steve's legs around him, locking him there for the time being.

"I'm sorry," Eddie said again.

"I love you." Steve kissed his hair, then his forehead. "I was afraid I messed up too bad, that I'd lost you for real."

"Never." Eddie kissed Steve's chest. "You'll never lose me, sunshine. No matter what happens."

There was a soft hitch in Steve's breathing. "That's not how it usually works for me."

"Maybe not. But it's how it works for us." Eddie rose up to kiss Steve. There was no heat behind it this time. He poured all of his love and affection and as much reassurance as he could into it, until he could feel Steve practically shaking with it.

"That okay?" Eddie murmured.

Steve sniffed softly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm more than okay with that."

Eddie hid his face in Steve's neck again and breathed in the scent of salt and cologne. They would have to talk about it more later, talk about boundaries and the way to try to prevent something else like this happening. But for now Eddie was happy to just hold and be held by Steve. "Good. 'Cause I wasn't really asking."

"Guess I deserve that," Steve joked. His fingers came up to stroke through Eddie's hair gently.

Eddie found that he couldn't agree more.

[morganbritton132]

Oh geez this might be a double ask because my phone glitched out when I tried to send previously BUT just wanted to say that I love ur Steve has older siblings au

I also need to say that I shamelessly combined that au with ur post about Tommy knowing Steve the best. Just picturing Steve’s sibs zoning out when his mom lists what he can’t eat because they assume she’s just being difficult. Flash forward a few years and they accidentally poison Steve with like peanut butter cookies and are realllly lucky that Tommy was staying over that weekend and knows he’s allergic.

anyways thx for all ur writing!

I only got this ask once so we’re good! The Steve Has Older Siblings AU has kinda been on hold for a bit because Dustin is either the easiest or the hardest character to write and right now, he’s being difficult for me.

BUT! I love this.

I’m going to change it around a bit because I’m on this kick right now where Steve is allergic to aspirin. Also, with the way that Steve’s mom is written for this AU, she is negligent but protective of her son. I don’t think she’d allow peanut butter in the house if Steve was allergic.

She wouldn’t allow aspirin either but Richard insists that it’s the only thing that cures a migraine (hangover), and Steve’s eight. He doesn’t even like taking his Flintstone vitamins so she’s not concerned about him getting in the medicine cabinet.

It’s not common that Tommy stays over at Steve’s when they’re sick.

Typically his mom watches them at their house but she had to go wake up his grandma (“That doesn’t make any sense. Why can’t she set an alarm clock?”/”I dunno, Steve. That’s what Mommy said. She had to go to Granny’s wake.”) so Mrs. Harrington was babysitting them.

Mrs. Harrington isn’t very good at taking care of them. Tommy wouldn’t tell Steve that because it’ll make him sad, but his mom kinda sucks at this. She doesn’t even give them popsicles for their sore throats or kiss their foreheads to check their temperature. She just disappears for long periods of time to yell into the phone.

Tommy’s kinda happy when she has to go into the office because he thinks Claire might look after them, but she’s apparently studying in her room so Steve’s brothers are doing it.

Tommy secretly likes this better because Jason and Richie are very nice to him, and they tell him that he’s cooler than Steve. No one has ever said that before! Not even Carol and they got married under the jungle gym.

Tommy likes hanging out with them even if he feels icky today.

He is standing in the kitchen next to Steve, watching Richie cut a little orange pill in half with a knife. Richie keeps muttering under his breath about running out of the ‘liquid S H I T.’ Tommy thinks it’s funny that he said a bad word, but can’t laugh about it because he can see the bottle that the pill came out of and –

“I don’t think we take that,” He voices but Richie brushes him off. He says it’s like candy. Tommy has brothers too, so he knows that sometimes you gotta give in or they’ll rub your face into the carpet until you get rugburn, but, “I know but… but what if only I take it?”

“You take half,” Richie tells him. “Stevie over here takes the other half and then we’re right as rain. It reduces fever.”

“Yeah,” Jason adds from behind them. “So your brain doesn’t leak out your ears.”

Tommy looks over at Steve but he isn’t fully awake so there’s not much of a reaction there. Plus, he’s not a very good reader so Tommy’s not sure if he even knows what the bottle says. He tries again, ignoring Jason, “That’s not what Mrs. Harrington gave us earlier.”

“Yeah, I know. This is better.”

“Steve can’t take that,” Tommy tries again after he crunches the medicine between his teeth. He sticks out his tongue so Richie can see that it’s gone, and then adds, “Mommy gave that to him once and it made him really sick.”

“It did?” Steve croaks, snatching his hand back when Richie tries to hand him the pill. Richie tries to force the pill into his mouth but Steve presses his lips together. It makes his brother swear and gesture to Jason, and then Steve is snatched off his feet with a hand pinching his nose shut.

He struggles and Tommy wants to help but he – he also wants Richie and Jason to like him so, he doesn’t help. Steve gasps for breath and the pill goes in…and Steve is fine. He’s angry and out of breath, and his nose is still stuffy so he still kinda sounds like a frog but he’s not.. he’s not blue like last time.

Tommy thinks, oh. He thinks, cool.

Everything is fine for fifteen minutes and then Tommy is yelling out the door of Steve’s bedroom that they need help. Steve is breathing weird and – “and, I – I think he’s going to die!”

A lot of stuff happens at once. Claire leaves her room, Jason and Richie come up the stairs, and they all start yelling and blaming each other. No one really jumps into action until Tommy bursts into tears. Then it’s movement and car rides, and Tommy is sitting in the waiting room at the hospital without shoes on.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been sitting there when Mr. and Mrs. Harrington rush into the room. The only thing he does know is that he’s never seen anybody look as angry as Mrs. Harrington did when she sees them.

She looks like she’s going to yell at them but Mr. Harrington grabs her by the arm and drags her to the reception desk. They disappear behind the white double doors that Steve went through.

It only makes Tommy cry harder.

[steviewashere]

Don't Dish What You Can't Serve

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Sexual Harassment (Not Between Main Pairing), Chewing Tobacco, Gross Shit Happens That I Can't Say Because It Spoils The PlotTags: Different First Meeting AU, No Upside Down AU, No Supernatural AU, Steve Never Became Friends With Tommy and Carol, Hurt/Comfort, Tommy Hagan Being an Asshole, Tommy Hagan is a Piece of Shit Here, Waiter Steve Harrington, Line Cook Eddie Munson, They Work at Benny's, So This is an AU Where Benny's Never Closed, Protective Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Gets Revenge, Steve is a College Student (But That's Not Entirely Important Here), '86 Was Eddie's Year

🥤——————🥤 Steve picks up a new job in the summer of 1986, waiting tables. The job at Family Video fell through and it just didn’t pay enough. He was starting his first year at the local college soon and he desperately needed the money. Especially since his parents cut him off, sighting his one gap year as enough reason. And so he goes to Benny’s, fills out an application and turns it in the same day. Back at his apartment, also the same day, he gets hired on. Alongside another guy around his age, one he recognizes from high school as Eddie Munson—who must’ve finally finished his time as a senior and now just needed to work.

Neither of them really talk to each other outside of putting orders in and taking orders out. Maybe occasionally scolding the other because—“You didn’t ask how rare he wanted his steak, Harrington? How the hell am I supposed to make it then?” and “Munson, you forgot the fucking ketchup on this asshole’s cheeseburger and now he won’t shut the fuck up about it. Fix this, please for the love of god.”

So, sure, they don’t get along all that well all the time. They’re not friends. More so just acquaintances. And so they don't really talk.

However, that changes one evening.

It’s a couple weeks before the upcoming school year is supposed to start. Hawkins, Indiana is one of those little college towns. Meaning, the new students were finally moving, coming around, getting to know where they now lived. And that includes one particular customer, Tommy Hagan, and his girlfriend, Carol Perkins. They’ve been coming in since mid-July, despite the new year starting in September, despite move-in dates set in late August. Every Sunday, Steve sees their pinched, smarmy, cocky faces. And every Sunday, they always cause some sort of issue.

The first time, Tommy spilled his soda all over the tiled restaurant floor. Claimed it was an accident, but Steve saw him. He saw the guy push his cup over the edge. Heard him snicker as Steve bent down to wipe it up, as he stood back up and plastered on a tight smile, promising that he’d get him a new soda right away. Flushed with shame as Tommy laughed and laughed and laughed his ass off about the, “Guy with the big stupid eyes and no thoughts in his head” and how he, “Probably doesn’t have much going for him if he’s working in a place like this.”

A riddle and game, that’s what it was. Steve would welcome them, take their orders, put them in for Eddie to make, drop the food off, and be at their service if something went wrong. Which was always. And he’d endure the stupid comments Tommy would make when he wasn’t in earshot. Spanning from how incompetent their waiter was—“He’s always screwing something up, swear to god. Don’t even know how he’s holding a job here, jeez.”—to how big of a manwhore he is because of how tight his work pants were. As if Steve would ever be catching tail in his stupid slacks, always stained with food and sticky soda by the end of the night, and the same pants that give him wedgies if he doesn’t make them sit right on his waist. All in all, Tommy is their worst customer. But it’s just a job, Steve always thought, it’ll get better at some point. Tommy will eventually start classes and leave me alone.

Then, of course, comes the Sunday a couple weeks before the new school year. Tommy is alone this time. No Carol on his arm. He just slides into one of the booths and watches Steve work until he approaches. And immediately, something is terribly off about this encounter.

“Welcome to Benny’s, can I get any drinks started for you?” Steve asks. His script. Customer service voice pitchy and monotone as it drips from his mouth.

Tommy doesn’t answer for several moments. Leaving Steve to stand and loom and stare. To smile and squirm. As he rakes his eyes so unnoticeably over all of Steve’s frame. His tongue trails along the inside of his lower lip, eyes heated, a gross smirk on his face. Smarmy.

“Bet you’d look good without that dumb frilly apron around your waist,” Tommy teases. It’s half-flirtatious, Steve thinks. But all the same creepy and…predatory.

“Excuse me?” He can only respond.

The asshole hums, assessing. Repeats himself. And adds, “You’d make better tips, too. Maybe put some gloss on your lips, a tighter shirt, no apron…yeah…vision’s coming together, baby. Could make everybody your bitch when you serve them.” He stares for a second longer. Rests his face in his left hand and flutters his eyes at Steve. “Can I get my usual, pretty boy? And one of those strawberry milkshakes.”

Steve writes the order down on his little notepad, shifting foot to foot. His stomach twists and knots. Brain still whirling at what Tommy said, unable to retort. Doesn’t even know how to really feel. Not flattered, that’s for sure. Slimy…that seems like a good enough substitute for the emotions mildewing in his chest.

“Y’know,” Tommy continues, voice sticky the way humidity is—uncomfortable—“I see how hard you work around here sometimes, even if you are pretty bad at it. Swear I can see the cogs just clogging up in your head. If you wanna give that pea brain of yours a moment to relax, you could share that drink with me. Maybe I’ll tip you real good this time, baby.”

He shifts again. Hands clammy and bile in the back of his throat. Steve swallows hard, thinks he stutters something out akin to, “I’ll be back with your order,” and promptly disappears into the kitchen.

The door swings closed behind him. And he’s not really looking, not paying attention. Just trying to get away from the residue left in Tommy’s air of existence. In the seconds between entering the kitchen and trying to storm away, he runs into somebody. An exerted grunt, raspy and deep, sounds out in front of him.

“Hey! Watch”—the person gently grabs him by the shoulders and leads them somewhere that he can’t really register. In a softer voice, no longer agitated, “Steve? Hey, man, y’alright?”

Steve sniffles. It’s then that he recognizes the heat in his cheeks, overwhelmingly hot and itchy. The scalding of tears. A pinch behind his eyes. There’s a soft cushion underneath him, the telltale creak of one of the older dining chairs. The air smells like garlic and grease, but a breeze catches over his exposed forearms—most likely from an air conditioning unit. He’s in the break room, he can finally notice. And break he does.

“That asshole is back,” he garbles, “and he”—hiccup—“he’s being really gross to me.”

The person crouches down in front of him, putting them eye-to-eye. And he knows immediately that it’s Eddie. Long hair pulled up into as neat of a bun as he can manage. A group of pitch black bats on pale skin. Dark brown eyes, shifting back and forth between his own with a mixture of concern and anger.

“What’d he say to you, Steve?”

He sniffs again, trying to gain some composure before he inevitably has a full-blown breakdown. Inevitable because he always has one when he goes home to his apartment, but it might happen here, and he can’t afford to let it happen here. Not today, at least, not now.

“Calling me…calling me baby and pretty boy. And he—he’s trying to make me share his stupid milkshake and he calls me stupid—that I have a…a fucking pea brain. Eddie, he calls me stupid every single time he comes in and I just—he’s just—I can’t”—

Eddie runs his warm hands up and down his biceps, gently pushing the fabric of his quarter sleeve, too. He shushes low and whispered. Murmurs, “I don’t want you to go back out there without me, alright?” His eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s wet ones once more. One of his hands leaves and digs into his back pocket, producing a black bandana. And he carefully brings it up close, patting it over Steve’s blotchy cheeks. “You don’t deserve that, Steve,” he whispers, “and I’ll make sure he gets what he deserves. Just wait back here for a bit and I’ll get his order done.”

Steve nods slow and heavy. Wipes the heel of his palm roughly over his eyes—to which Eddie tuts at and firmly drags it away, replacing it with the worn, soft fabric of that bandana. “Sorry that I ran into you at the door,” he says quietly.

“I’m glad you did. Because I’m going to make sure that asshole never bothers you again. ‘M sick of hearing what he does to you every single time he comes in.” Eddie stands up, but leaves the bandana to dangle in Steve’s loose grip. A tentative stroke through Steve’s hair, something he usually wouldn’t allow, but it’s too nice to turn down. “We’ll put him up on the wall, too. That bastard can suck a fucking egg.”

He laughs at that, or at least something like a laugh. It’s brittle, airy, but genuine. And watches Eddie go.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, though, Eddie wanders back into the break room and drags them back towards the milkshake blender in the kitchen. He has the ingredients all laid out next to the machine: vanilla ice cream, a gallon of milk, some freshly chopped strawberries, the can of whipped cream, and the glass itself. Adds the milk and the ice cream, but then stops abruptly, turning to dig something out of his pocket.

“What’re you doing?” Steve quietly asks, worried to be overheard through the ticket window.

“Oh, just some good ol’ payback,” Eddie answers, something darker than mirth in his tone. What he produces from his pocket is a can of chewing tobacco. The nasty menthol kind, too. He shakes the little tin in his hand, the tobacco thunking against the lid of the container. And then he twists the cap off, plucks a quarter sized amount, and stuffs the wad between his bottom teeth and lower lip. Mouth literally bulging with the tobacco. “We’ll blend this shit first,” he whispers, scheming, “add the strawberries. Then, comes the grand finale.”

Steve side eyes Eddie. His deft fingers flittering over the buttons of the blender, scooping out the strawberries with the same hand he picked up tobacco with. He grimaces, but doesn’t comment on that. “Grand finale?”

“One of the biggest fears that customers have when they go into any restaurant is that the waiter is going to spit in their food,” he nonchalantly explains, capping the blender, “though, a lot of them don’t consider the line cook. Or at least, the rude ones don’t.” Eddie shifts something in his mouth, what sounds like the slosh of thick saliva. “He’ll probably complain, but it’s not like he’ll be believed. It’s a safety hazard, sure. But nobody suspects the cook because they’re supposed to know that shit. A cook spitting in a patron’s food? No way, man. That shit’s taboo.”

“And if he is believed?”

Eddie merely shrugs. “Then I get fired. But it’s whatever. I’m already on my way out anyway, got enough money for what I need.” 

Before Steve can ask or get in response, Eddie’s blasting the blender. It chugs and churns the half cup of milk and the measly two scoops of ice cream. The strawberries burst and bleed juice throughout, mixture turning pink. And with a few shakes, a half-way pit stop to unclog the bigger chunks, and a go-about with the partially dysfunctional blades—Eddie chucks the lid off, unlocks the pitcher from the machine, and turns away from Steve.

“I’m gonna have the good graces to not make you watch this shit,” Eddie gives as an explanation, “y’may wanna cover your ears.” Steve doesn’t, though wishes he did. With a cough and a semi-gag, Eddie inhales and burbles the saliva in the back of his mouth. He can hear the way the tobacco spit dribbles from between Eddie’s lips, the way it plops into the blended mixture, and the last little dredges left in his mouth. Steve’s stomach turns, but he doesn’t stop it. Doesn’t step in.

Eddie turns back around with the blender. Sitting on top of the pink mix is one quarter sized glob of tobacco and saliva, the spit already spilling down the sides of the pitcher. “Ta-da!” Eddie exclaims, shaking the pitcher back and forth. “And that is what I like to call the revenge special. Half cup milk, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, four chopped strawberries, and a fantastical exported ingredient from the land of your’s truly. It may be a seasonal item, but it’s got the gust of something that’ll last a lifetime.”

“God…that is disgusting,” Steve mock-whispers. “You’re a fucking genius.”

“Thank you, it’s one of my many tricks.” He sets the blender down onto the metal counter, a hard thunk that rattles the milkshake glass. “Now, do me a favor and pour that into the glass, get him one of those stupid striped straws, spray it up with some whip. And I’ll dish up his monstrosity of a cheeseburger.” Eddie’s eyes soften away from the mirth they previously had. His voice dropping low, too. “I’ll deliver it, too, by the way. I would never throw you under the bus for something gross like this. This should hopefully get him to stay away, though. If he does complain about you and you have to flee, I’ll help you find a new job.”

“I could just say I did it, y’know,” Steve tentatively says, “that I fucked up his drink. You don’t need to lose your job because of issues I’m having.”

“You were crying, Steve,” Eddie points out gently. “Nobody makes my waiters cry. And nobody gets away with it, either.” He slinks away from Steve without another word and without another word getting in. And Steve watches him for a long moment. As he busies himself around his workspace, tidied and organized the way he needs it. The flex of his muscles as he flips and cuts and assembles that cheeseburger. His baby hairs at the crown of his head getting stuck to his sweaty temples, hard work painting and furrowing his brows.

But when he’s caught staring, Eddie simply and softly smiles, gestures at the blender, and turns back to his plate. So, Steve does what he’s told. Assembles the nail to his coffin, one pour and spray and straw at a time. And walks out of the kitchen, behind Eddie’s flexing back, his grease stained and sweat drenched white t-shirt. He sits at the front counter, in one of the old, flaking barstools. Watches.

Tommy looks up at Eddie from his spot in the booth, eyes wide as he sees Eddie take a seat across from him. He grimaces and sours. “You aren’t that waiter. Who the fuck are”—

“Heard you like milkshakes,” Eddie drawls. “Thought maybe I could get your opinion on a new recipe I’m trying. It’s strawberry, don’t worry your preppy little chinos off. But there’s been a slight change, was wondering what you’d think about it.”

Across the table, Tommy gives Eddie an odd glance. “Is it that important that you watch me? Surely I could’ve just sent my compliments to you or whatever when I’m done.”

“Nah, I like getting it straight from the source. So, go ahead, take a sip. Tell me what you think.”

Steve has to physically draw himself back, has to swallow down the gag and bile working their way through him, and genuinely convulses back against the counter as Tommy takes his first, long, hard sip of the milkshake. His face doesn’t move much with the sip, but he does scowl a tad, grimacing with a slight twitch in his upper lip.

“Tastes sour,” Tommy comments.

Eddie hums. “But is it good? Sometimes sour’s a good thing.” He reaches across the table, then, and plucks up Tommy’s cheeseburger. Crosses one arm across his chest, hand resting on his opposite bicep, and brings the food up to his mouth, taking a hearty bite.

“Hey!” Tommy exclaims, “that’s my cheeseburger, man! You can’t just”—

“Get a second sip and maybe I’ll consider remaking your food.” Eddie smugly watches Tommy take another deep swallow. His eyes cast at the glass, roaming at the little brown flecks in the shake. Knowing and proud. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I mean it’s…objectively, I guess it’s good. Can I get a new burger, man? I’m starving here and I’ve got a date with my girlfriend in thirty minutes.”

All at once, Steve’s heart enters his stomach. Eddie takes another large bite of the burger before replacing it on Tommy’s plate. He crosses his arms against the top of the table, fingers tucked securely in the creases of his elbows. Leans all the way across until he’s nearly nose to nose with Tommy.

“So, could you taste what was different? Could your pea brain discern the new flavor on your tongue?” He asks, smarmy as Tommy has ever been. Over-confident, yet satisfied.

Tommy’s eyes widen at his words being thrown back in his face, startles against the back of his booth. Fingers gripping to the edge of the table, cheeks going pale. “I…I don’t”—

“Spit.”

“Wh—What?”

“Spit,” Eddie repeats coldly. “You just drank my fucking tobacco spit.” Silence. And then, “How’d I taste, baby? Be honest. Was it everything you’d ever hope it would be with a man?”

More silence. Tense and thick, enough that it weighs on Steve’s shoulders across the way. However, Tommy finally registers what just happened. He gags hard, hand covering his curdled mouth. Behind it, muffled, he says, “You’re sick in the head. I’ll—I’ll fucking tell your boss. You’ll fucking regret this.” And he stands up on shaky legs, dashing away before he can vomit all over himself.

Eddie only watches him leave, satisfied and content. He looks back to Steve, grins. “I can’t wait to see his girlfriend’s face when she finds out he isn’t allowed back.”

Steve nervously giggles and crosses to the booth, sliding in where Tommy just was. “You’re insane,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, but it worked, didn’t it? Too bad he didn’t leave a tip. There is a cheeseburger if you want the rest of it. Promise I didn’t fuck with that.” Eddie’s eyes are on him, soft and thoughtful, watching him pick up the partially eaten burger. “I can make you a new one instead, if you’d prefer. Extra cheese, too.”

“Trying to get in all the cooking you can before this inevitably backfires?”

“Sure…or I’m trying to make sure you’re taken care of. One in the same, I suppose. So, provolone, right? Could even combine some of the cheese if you want. Pepper jack and havarti…colby jack and swiss. Take your pick.”

Steve glances up from the plate in front of him. Heart beating fast and chest gooey as Eddie looks onto him with something like reverence. “Provolone, please,” he requests quietly, “and can I get extra crunchy crinkle fries, too?”

Reaching out a hand, Eddie gently pats the back of Steve’s left. “You got it, baby”—he hisses—“I probably shouldn’t call you that. I’m so”—

“It’s alright,” Steve murmurs, “I…uh…I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, then stands from the other side of the bench. “You’re gonna give me a hero complex and an ego, Stevie.” He begins to retreat towards the kitchen, calling out about bringing the dishes back when he’s done, that the milkshake could just be tossed glass and all.

But Steve stops him with, “Hey, Eddie?” Is met again with those soft, dark brown eyes. “Thank you,” he quietly says, “I never thought I’d get him away from me. Means a lot that you helped.”

There’s a soft smile on Eddie’s face, one that Steve can’t help but return.

“Anything for you, man.”

He makes Eddie stop again, though. To gaze, to drink in that tight white t-shirt and the spatter of black ink on his arms, his heavy pretty curls, and that soft face of his. “When we finish closing up for the night, do you wanna come over to mine? I’ve got a rented copy of Empire Strikes Back and a few beers. Only if you”—

“I’d love to, Steve. Now let me make you your food, sweetheart. Before you gobble me up with that hungry stare of yours.”

🥤——————🥤

[scoops-aboy86]

By The Heart (Secret Admirer pt 2)

Steddie Week 2024, July 2: Hands / touch starved / Invisible Touch by Genesis

wc: 2136 / rated: T / set between seasons 2 and 3 / also on ao3

After the world fell apart a second time in November of ‘84, Steve had finished out the rest of his senior year in a daze. Partly because Billy Hargrove had broken a fucking plate over his head, giving him a small scar by his hairline that the doctor said would fade and recurring headaches that the doctor said might stick around anywhere from a few months to forever. 

It’s been more than a few months and the headaches are only slightly less frequent and a tiny bit less severe. 

He graduated, barely. His dad keeps dropping pointed comments about how his parents let him stay in their house rent-free after high school, how he’d saved up while attending a nearby college by not having to worry about the cost of a dorm or basic meals, and that it is his gratitude towards them that has moved him to offer the same to Steve. Usually said comments come after Steve tries to sidestep some sort of menial task, and it always feels like a threat.Steve just grits his teeth and takes it—refills his dad’s drink when the bottle is already literally right by the man’s hand, washes the family car after dinner when both his parents know that Steve has a shift at Scoops first thing in the morning, whatever. He can’t afford to get kicked out right now. 

His job at Scoops Ahoy is shit, all bright fluorescent lights and kids screaming and everything getting sticky for a measly minimum wage, but that probably reflects the quality of the job application he’d submitted. 

He has no friends, no prospects, no one in his corner except a bunch of incoming freshmen and the only one who really seems to want him around is off at some sort of smart people camp that he’d never even heard of… Go figure. 

But he has Secret Admirer. 

Okay, what Steve has is a pen pal who has a PO box and prefers to remain anonymous, possibly because Steve is an embarrassing person to have a crush on these days. And it’s really stupid that he thinks of them as first name Secret, last name Admirer, but it’s not like he hasn’t tried to come up with better names! Unfortunately, there are so many things Secret Admirer has called him (sweetheart, darling, dearest, honey, baby) that he can’t really think of anything original with those constantly rotating in his head… He can’t use them, though. It’d be weird. 

The first letter had been shoved into his locker in the last few weeks of school, looking like someone either wrote it with their non-dominant hand or had also suffered a blow to the head recently, and he hadn’t known what to make of it at first. In fact, he’d considered the possibility that Tommy or Billy were playing some sort of prank on him… but he didn’t think either of them could write “To Steve, the heart of my heart” without bursting into homophobic flames, and if it was Carol she would’ve done her girliest handwriting with hearts dotting the eyes. And his Secret Admirer had mentioned things no one else in his life seemed to care about. 

Like, 

I hope you’re feeling better. Sometimes I notice you squinting or grimacing in the classes we have in common… Are you still getting headaches? Do you get enough rest? You probably already know this, but mental and physical rest are super important for getting your handsome self all recovered, big boy. 

And,

I had a concussion once, not a bad one but it really left an impression. Felt like I was trying to think through a head full of soup for weeks. It sucks that teachers didn’t seem to cut you much slack because, just saying, I noticed they used to do that a lot more when you were still on the basketball and swim teams. Jock privilege placed above consideration of an actual, serious injury? I’m sorry, but that’s the rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril, sweetheart, and you deserve better. 

So, yeah. Clearly his Secret Admirer is a nerd who doesn’t necessarily have the best opinion of jocks… but still took the time to notice all those things and write kindly about them. It felt nice, knowing that at least one person out there noticed, maybe even cared. 

And when that letter turned out not to be a one-off, a few more letters in his locker and then one in his mailbox, postmarked and everything, after graduation? Steve was hooked, enough to start writing self-consciously back. 

Which has brought him to the point of wanting so badly to meet this person that he’s stooped to begging, and it’s not even getting him anywhere. 

It’s occurred to him that it could be a guy, of course it has. Steve might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knows it happens. He’d had a friend in middle school, Todd Fischer, nice guy, totally normal kid—got caught kissing some boy in the next grade up behind the gym and turned out to be the worst sprinter of the two. The Fischers had moved out of Hawkins a few weeks later and Steve hadn’t heard anything from or about Todd since. They’d been halfway through reading Romeo & Juliet in English at the time, and Steve remembers thinking when they got to the end of the play that at least things hadn’t gone that badly for Todd and whoever the other kid was. He’s old enough now to know that it could have; between Todd being such a nice kid, Barb dying in his own backyard, and the threat of government agents coming out of the woodwork if he ever breathes a word about certain secrets, the thought leaves a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. 

Anyway, if it is a guy, that would explain why Secret Admirer keeps dancing around his pleas to meet. And the initially disguised handwriting—which had been dropped by the second mailed letter, along with a brief, sheepish apology. 

But it could also be a girl who’s really shy or something. Steve doesn’t want to assume and then look like a total idiot further down the road. Whoever it is, all Steve knows is that he doesn’t want to lose them. He has to play this smart, play it cool… because he knows himself, and already knows that they have him by the heart based on words alone. 

The latest letter is in his hands, crinkled a little at the edges, and Steve can’t help himself from rereading the fifth paragraph yet again. 

… those indecently tiny shorts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about running my fingers up the inside of those thighs. Or my mouth. Whichever you think you’d like best, baby, I’m not picky. And while I do like ice cream, particularly strawberry with rainbow sprinkles in a cone, I can think of something else I’d love to wrap my hand around and run my tongue over before any drips can escape. You just think about that, hmm? Maybe share some of those thoughts in your reply, if I haven’t scared you off…

He’s not scared off. Doesn’t need to know exactly who put pen to paper to imagine hands and lips running up his legs, either, an invisible touch that sends shivers along his spine. 

Okay, maybe it’s been a while. Between striking out from behind the Scoops counter and not really trying all that hard anyway, the only action Steve’s seen is from his own hand… and this letter. He has thoughts, alright, but has a much better idea of how to translate them into action than words. And this is his problem with the whole pen pal only thing, his natural charm (if he has any left) is absolutely useless in this medium. 

The other problem is that he really, really wants to jerk off about this, except he’s got almost no details to fuel the fantasy. He knows that Secret Admirer had a concussion once, but not what color or length or texture or style their hair is; knows they’re on the fringes of popularity and not really into sports, but nothing about their height or build or how they might move against him. Hell, he doesn’t even know if they’re a girl or a guy, isn’t sure if he should try to imagine boobies and painted nails or stubbled cheeks and big hands. 

Secret Admirer has mentioned being a smoker though, of both tobacco and grass, and Steve is not exactly proud of how strongly this makes him want a cigarette just because it’s all he has to go on. He has work in under an hour and Robin hates the smell of cigarettes, will be extra vicious for their entire shift if he comes in reeking of smoke. 

He’ll have to figure out something else…

Dear Secret Admirer, Thanks for writing again, I was really glad to get your letter. I don’t sleep with them under my pillow because sometimes my pillow ends up on the floor and I don’t want to drool all over them. I keep them in a box in the back of my closet, because sometimes my parents have the cleaning lady do my bedroom without telling me and I don’t want her going through my stuff or putting it in weird places that I can never find again.  Sorry for laughing at you You must not have seen me last week when I threw a banana peel at my coworker for It’s not being humble if I don’t deserve Yeah, fuck high school.  Sorry for not rewriting this, I’m running out of paper and my dad’ll kill me if I break into his office to get more I definitely thought about what you said in your last letter. I thought about it a lot. It’s hard to figure out how to explain what though, because I wanted to picture you like you were probably picturing me when you were writing it. You obviously know what I look like, but I don’t know who you are so I had to get creative. (Which isn’t my strong suit. So if this is stupid maybe we could just never mention it again?) Since I don’t know what you look like and it’d be weird to try and picture you anyway, and then what if I’m not even close and that makes it seem like I don’t like you for who you are? I’m not sure if that makes sense. But anyway, since I don’t know what you look like I pictured you dressed like a ninja.  Hear me out, okay? You’re such a mystery. Ninjas are mysterious, and dressed all black to blend in with the shadows. You can’t see their hair or face and they wear gloves because you can tell a lot about a person by their hands. I guess what I’m saying is I imagined you sneaking into my room at night when the lights are off. Totally silent but with this powerful presence, you know? I think if I were in the same room as you it’d feel like that moment right before the whistle goes off at a swim meet, because that’s just like, holy shit it’s about to happen and your muscles are all tense but ready but you’re waiting, coiled like a snake. So I’m coiled like a snake and you’re still a ninja and I’m not very good at this. I’ve done it over the phone a few times but that’s different. I don’t know where I’m going with this just sitting writing this alone in my room with Genesis playing in the background so I’m going to stop. Just trust me, it was hot. If you ever want to exchange numbers I’d be happy to tell you all about it sometime.  It feels weird to end like that, so I’ll also tell you that I tried reading that Hobbit book you suggested and you were right, it’s a lot easier than the Rings book that the kids I babysit tried to bully me into reading. Bibo is freaking out about all these dwarves in his house and I can relate, it sounds like when those kids all show up and try to rope me into driving them around town. At least they haven’t tried to make me steal anything or try to take on a damn dragon yet. Hopefully this book won’t give them any ideas.  — Steve PS If that was so dumb you changed your mind about still writing to me, please let me down easy. Seriously it would be no hard feelings. At least I still have a great ass and great hair, so I’ve got that going for me.

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