#fic by nancy

[chocolatequeennk]

A Snowy Surprise, 3/3

After the dimension cannon landed Rose in the middle of a  blizzard, she found a stranger buried in the snow. But was he trulya  stranger?

Eight/Rose, Ten/Rose

Finally, the epilogue is here! For @doctorroseprompts 31 Days of Ficmas, Hope.

AO3 | FF.NET

The Doctor circled the console slowly, sliding navigational controls into place. He’d put it off as long as he could—it was time to return to Gallifrey.

A glimmer of reflection from the time rotor caught his eye, and he stopped to look at the man he’d become. The long curls and fanciful jacket had been replaced years ago as the war dragged on. The shorter hair and military coat better suited his life now… and he hated it.

He looked away from his reflection and grasped the dematerialisation lever. It was time to end the war, no matter what it took. 

And then?

The question haunted him. There was only one way to end the war, and he knew it. He would have to destroy both the Time Lords and the Daleks before the Time War destroyed all the universe.

But what then? What would be left for him, if he ended it all? Could he continue on, as the last of the Time Lords?

Maybe I won’t need to.

That was the only hope he had as he threw the lever and sent his TARDIS spinning into the Time Vortex. 

The TARDIS whistled and the ship pitched sharply, sending the Doctor to the floor. “What’s going on, old girl?” he murmured as he pushed himself upright.

The ship sang again, and this time he was prepared for the shift in direction. “We must be hitting some temporal turbulence.” It wasn’t overly surprising; the Time War was damaging the Web of Time more and more each day.

The TARDIS’ song evened out into her typical soft hum, then he heard the grating noise as she moved back into real time and space. With a final thud, she brought them to their destination.

The Doctor patted the console absently as he got to his feet. “Thank you, dear.” 

The feeling of her warmth and affection gave him courage to pull the door open. But instead of the red-orange hues of his native planet, the world outside was velvety blue and silvery white.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the console. The time rotor was completely dark, and he strongly suspected that if he tried to leave this planet, she would refuse.

For a moment, the anxiety of yet another unexpected thing tightened in his gut. As much as he didn’t want to return to Gallifrey, he wasn’t sure he could handle whatever awaited him here.

He took a deep breath and pulled the door shut behind him as he stepped out onto the snow-covered street. They had landed just opposite a stone palace, decorated with garland and fairy lights. Music floated through the open windows, along with soft conversation and laughter.

The Doctor studied the palace. Ralama, unless I miss my guess.

Something buried deep in his memories awoke. A ballroom in Ralama… He was across the street and up the long stairway almost without realising it. Timelines had pulled him here, and he couldn’t wait to find out why.

“Your invitation, sir?”

The Doctor blinked at the royal guard, then smiled widely. “Yes, of course.” He pulled the psychic paper out of his pocket and showed it to the young man. 

The guard took it and studied it carefully before handing it back. “Thank you, Sir Doctor. Please enjoy the royal ball.” 

The Doctor kept his face clear as he took the wallet back, but as soon as his back was turned to the guard, he raised an eyebrow. Sir Doctor? That’s interesting… 

The TARDIS almost seemed to giggle in his mind, and he gave her a last look before entering the palace. Apparently his ship was not above interfering with his psychic paper, but as long as it had gained him entrance, he didn’t mind.

Inside, the Doctor let his mind drift, following the timelines as best as he could. Almost without thinking, he climbed the stairs to the gallery overlooking the ballroom. 

He blinked when he reached the top of the stairs. He’d been here before…

The music below called him forward, and he walked over to the railing that protected him from falling into the room below. 

There were several couples on the dance floor, but one stood out. A tall man spun a beautiful blonde around the floor. She laughed as her red skirt flared around her, and her partner smiled in answer. Neither of them was aware of anyone else in the ballroom—their attention was focused solely on each other. 

Timelines still teased him, and the Doctor couldn’t resist taking a peek. Gold lines swirled around the pair, twining through them like the path of a time traveller. 

He narrowed his eyes and focused more intently on the man’s timelines. There was something about them… something familiar. It took him a moment to place it, but finally he traced the timelines back to a point he was familiar with.

Very familiar. This man was his future self.

And now he couldn’t resist studying the woman in his arms. Who could possibly enchant him so much?

Her timelines were incredible. They started as the single timeline of an ordinary human, but before long, they began to twist and spin around themselves—probably the moment she’d started travelling with him, he figured. 

But the most captivating thing about her timelines was the way they were entwined around his own. This man was his future self, and the woman in his arms was his future wife.

The Doctor stumbled back a half step. He couldn’t… How could he possibly have a future like this, after what he was planning?

His future self whispered in his partner’s ear, and she turned her head to look at him. 

Now he remembered her, the mysterious blonde who had rescued him after his foolish visit to Euripidus. He’d recognised her as his bond mate then, too, he remembered. But back then, he hadn’t known how much of a toll the War would exact on him. He hadn’t known the man he would become—a man who didn’t deserve Rose Tyler.

Don’t. Don’t you dare think of yourself that way. Her fierce voice in his head was yet another shock in a day filled with them. 

Rose? He asked, reaching out tentatively for the bond he could feel echoing back across time.

This time, the telepathic communication was just a sense. The feeling of being loved, being held, her desperate wish that she could protect him from what was coming.

I love you, she told him finally. 

The Doctor shook his head, feeling like he was walking through cotton wool. He’d forgotten about Rose, as he’d known he would have to, and as he would have to again. But he remembered this—her fierce protectiveness of him. 

Like a wolf protecting her mate, he teased her.

Rose’s chin tilted up. Yes.

The older Doctor turned them and met his gaze. I know what you’re planning, he said soberly. It will be just as painful as you’re imagining, but when you’re done, Rose will be there. He smiled down at the woman in his arms. She doesn’t make up for the loss of our people, but she certainly makes it more bearable.

The Doctor swallowed. He could see that. He couldn’t imagine how, but somehow this older Doctor had healed from the trauma of what they were about to do. 

Rose looked back at him. Go, Doctor, she told him. And no matter how bad it gets, remember that this moment is waiting for you.

The Doctor stepped away from the gallery and melted into the crowd of guests working their way downstairs. Somehow, like always, the TARDIS had shown him exactly what he’d needed to see.

[selineabanto]

last one out of hawkins

[lazylittledragon]

mombin pt 9!! it's been too long i'm sorry

(1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)(7)(8)

[arelliann]

My second piece for @blipblot’s Western AU fic ‘A Lick and a Promise’ Which has now finished posting!!! You can read it on a03 here

Blip has been so incredible to work with for the @steddiebang2024 and has done such an amazing job writing, you should 100% check it out, it’s got enemies to lovers sexual tension galore! <3

[morganbritton132]

I want a fic where Robin is adopted.

The only parents she has ever known are her own and the only time being adopted has ever bothered her was when Amanda St. James made fun of her for it in the third grade. But Robin told her that at least her parents wanted her and were not just stuck with her like Amanda’s parents, “And maybe that’s why your Mom and Dad are so unhappy all the time.”

She got in trouble for making Amanda cry and went back to never thinking about her birthparents. She had no interest in knowing anything about them and it stayed like that until she turned sixteen.

On her sixteenth birthday, her mom gave her a letter written to her by her birthmother. Robin doesn’t read it immediately, but eventually gives in to her own curiosity. She reads it over twice before her mind snags on a sentence, ‘I wanted to give you and your brother a better life…’ … you and your brother…. You and your brother…. You and-

“I have a brother.”

This eats at Robin, especially after her dad’s call to the adoption agency goes nowhere. It eats at her so much that she finally gives in – Fred Benson swears up and down that Nancy Wheeler is the best investigator on the school paper – and asks for help.

Nancy says yes and is maybe a little too invested in finding the truth, but honestly, Robin is having fun and she wants to find her apparent twin. She wants to know about his life. Settle the whole nurture over nature thing.

They hit a lot of walls, a lot of dead ends. They break a few rules and maybe commit a felony. They enlist Jonathan Byers to help and even Eddie Munson at one point because he knows how to pick locks, and it’s all for nothing.

One day when they have everything they’ve found spread out across the Wheeler’s dining room table, Steve comes over to pick up Dustin. He looks down at the whole mess and points at her birth certificate like, “Hey, we were born on the same day.” 

[tubesock86]

80s BABY!

[cheer-nympho]

The older kids all have wills.

Nancy, Robin, Steve and Jonathan, ages 18 to 21, all have wills tucked away in various boxes under beds and behind wardrobes.

Their similarities only extending to the fear felt when writing them, mixed with resigned acceptance. A common feeling of “Man, it sure is sad that my late teenage years are spent contemplating the very real possibility of gruesome early death, I should be at the club.”

But in every other aspect they are completely different.

Nancy’s was written on a cream notepad with dainty flowers surrounding the border. Written from a view of logic and forward planning, a need to protect her family. All of the demands straight to the point, no nonsense.

Warped only by the small tear stains across the bottom.

Robin’s was clearly written in a panic, barely legible handwriting on a ripped off lined sheet.

Written after she read an article about a man whose boyfriend was refused access to him after his death because there was no will.

She refused to leave anyone in the dark like that.

Jonathan’s was the most emotional, surprisingly. But most of that emotion was palpable anger, the word “nothing” pressed so hard into the yellow paper next to Lonnies name it had almost ripped the page.

Even if it was the last thing he did, Jon would keep Lonnie away from them.

Steves was written begrudgingly, more out of a need to prevent his parents from tossing it all. They weren’t around to know about Robin or the kids, wouldn’t know he’d promised Lucas the car or Max his records.

They weren’t evil people, they just didn’t know. This way they would.

They hadn’t spoken about it in advance, hadn’t co-ordinated it or hidden them together like a morbid friendship pact. They had all just at some point come to the realisation that, given their current lives, it may one day be necessary.

Eddie had not had that thought.

Eddie Munson had many thoughts.

He had thoughts on the disease of pop music sweeping the last worthwhile radio station, he had thoughts on the price increases in his favourite gaming store in Indy, he had thoughts on selling enough stock to buy a new trailer gas canister.

What he very rarely had thoughts on was death.

It took a lot for him to say that these days, considering where he’d been not too many years ago. But these days the only thoughts on death he had were more abstract and fleeting, nothing more than the average schmuck.

And even if the thought would have crossed his mind, he would have shrugged it off with a ‘Wayne knows what to do.’

He had no other family and, as far as Eddie was concerned, nothing particularly valuable to single out to anyone. He may need one of the guys to burn the shoebox hidden under his bed, but that could be a more verbal agreement between bros.

So Eddie didn’t have a will.

Didn’t have a plan, didn’t have the worry.

And it’s not until he’s lying on his back, being cradled by a child that frankly should not have to see the insides of Eddies stomach, that he remembers that.

It rushes to him in a panic, the thoughts feeling slow and syrupy but in reality only taking a split second.

He needed to write a will.

He needed Wayne to know that Eddie /wanted/ him to have everything, not just given it by family rights.

He needed to write Dustin in, and Corroded Coffin, maybe even some random shit for all the other nerds.

A donation to Hawkins Church to really confuse them, not that Eddie would be leaving any money behind. Maybe they could have his guitar.

When he got back he would write it up on the finest non-scrunched up paper he could find.

When he got back he would take care of it all.

But that was a job for later Eddie, right now he really needed to sleep.

He could see Dustin crying above him but that was okay, he’d take care of it when he woke up.

When he wakes up he’ll take care of it all.

When he wakes up he’ll write his will.

When he wakes up.

[mo-mode]

The Demigods as Viral Tweets

(ft. Sally Jackson trying her best)

[loveinhawkins]

It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.

He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.

So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.

“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.

Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”

He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.

Eddie screams.

Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.

He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.

Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”

And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.

And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.

“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”

“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”

“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”

And…

Well. That’s a development.

“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”

And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”

Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.

Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”

Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”

“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”

“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.

“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”

Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.

Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.

Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”

And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.

Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.

“Your lips are blue.”

“I’m f-fine.”

A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.

“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.

He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.

But instead—

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.

Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.

“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.

Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”

“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”

Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.

“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”

“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.

There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…

Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.

At least, he would if he could stand up.

When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”

His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.

“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.

“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.

“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.

“Is—is Eddie—?”

“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.

And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.

For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.

But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.

He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Confessions

Steddie || ~2.3k words || rating: T || tags: post vecna, references to stancy, angst and fluff, robin buckley just being herself

~~~

Eddie and Robin were just finishing filling the snack bowls and mixing drinks when they heard a knock at the door. It’s a Friday night– and not what Eddie would consider a late hour–but they weren’t expecting anyone to join their weekly movie night at Steve’s. 

He glances at Robin who shrugs, shaking her head. As he rounds the kitchen counter towards the foyer, Steve’s voice carries down the hallway.

“Nance?” He sounds surprised too.

“Steve, I’m sorry I know it’s late, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I can’t wait anymore,” she says. Eddie can’t see her, but she sounds anxious. 

“This can’t be good,” Robin huffs. He agrees, if the sinking pit in his stomach is any indicator.

“Look, Nance, now’s not really–”

“Steve,” she barrels over him, sounding desperate. “I’ve been an idiot trying to convince myself that I haven’t missed you since we broke up– and before you say it, this isn’t because Jonathan left after we closed the last gate. When we were stuck there with Robin and Eddie, the way you looked at me was how I’ve always hoped someone would love me. You looked at me like I was everything to you, like you could look at me forever and never get tired of it. I feel wanted, and loved, and safe when I’m around you.” She takes a deep, steadying breath before pressing on.

“Last time, when we were together, I took all of my grief and anger out on you. I blamed you for  what happened to Barb because I couldn’t face it myself and I knew you loved me enough to hold the weight, and I resented you for it. You wouldn’t stand up to me, and I resented you because you loved me anyway.” Eddie can hear Nancy sniffling, small sobs carrying down the hallway. “You loved me at my worst, and you didn’t deserve that. You’re amazing, and strong, and kind and everything I could ever ask for.

“Steve, what you said in the Winnebago, I just, I can’t stop thinking about you. About us”

The silence that follows is stifling and Eddie feels bile climbing up his throat. Arms wrap around his shoulders as Robin tucks her head into his neck. Only a small comfort while months of gentle moments with Steve flash behind his eyes: soft hands brushing his curls, stolen glances, lingering touches, and warm smiles. Now Eddie’s forced to stand vigil as it’s all washed away by Nancy's whispered pleas.

“Nance, please–”

A spark of hope after a late night confession weeks ago– swiftly blown away.

“Steve Harrington, I lo–”

“Nancy,” Steve interrupts, his tone firm yet soft around the edges, “I’m in love with someone else.”

Robin gasps into his neck. Her arms around his shoulders squeeze tight, anchoring him to reality in the wake of Steve’s confession. His chest is so full he can’t breathe. 

“Oh,” Nancy whispers before another, deeper sob leaves her breathless. He never thought he’d hear Nancy Wheeler cry. Even though they’re apparently both in love with the same man, he’s grown close with her too and can’t help the urge to comfort her. Eddie’s grown to love everyone in his new found family. But Nancy is right. 

“Yeah Nance, I’m sorry. And they’re kind of here right now, so,” he says gently.

Steve Harrington is everything. 

And they’re kind of here right now…

Hope flames in his chest, blooming with warmth. Eddie doesn’t hear the conversation end over the buzzing in his own head and Robin’s frantic giggling until they hear the click of the front door and Steve’s footsteps coming towards them.

“Oh.”

Steve’s standing in front of them, wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Eddie’s realizing he and Robin maybe should’ve hid before Steve rounded the corner to find them eavesdropping. 

“So,” Steve stammers, a fierce rouge burning his ears, “how much of that did you hear, exactly?”

Robin quickly stands, clearing her throat before Eddie can think of an answer. “Is that the microwave? Did anyone else hear the microwave ding? I think the popcorn is done, so I can go check that right now. Yeah, right now. I’ll just, umm, be in the kitchen checking the popcorn. For the movie.”

She practically sprints down the hall, and although she wasn’t subtle, Eddie’s still thankful for the privacy. Steve’s shaking his head with a small smile on his face.

“Everything,” Eddie answers. “We heard everything.”

“Oh,” Steve says again. He sounds anxious and unsure, something Eddie’s compelled to fix, because all he wants in this world is for Steve Harrington to be happy.

“It’s ok.” He takes Steve’s hands in his own, tracing his thumb lightly over his knuckles. “We won’t say anything to her about it, and we won’t tell anyone what she said. Nancy’s in safe hands with us. Mum’s the word!” And as Eddie mimes zippering up his mouth, he hopes that Steve won’t take the easy way out. That he won’t use the life-raft Eddie’s just thrown in his direction to keep him from drowning. 

“Right,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair, biting his lip as he gazes at the floor between them. The silence as Eddie waits for Steve’s next words grows long and tense. He can’t hear any movement in the kitchen, making him more anxious now that he knows Robin’s listening. Which, he’d be a hypocrite to be mad about.

Maybe he has this all wrong. Maybe Steve just needed a way to get her to leave, so he lied about having a date over. Maybe he didn’t know what to say, and just said the first thing to pop into his head. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with Eddie at all. 

Eddie realizes he’s still holding Steve’s hands, his grip tightening the longer he spirals. If it hurts, Steve hasn’t said anything. But when Eddie looks at his face, he seems dazed and lost in thought. As fast as if he’d been burned, Eddie drops Steve’s hands and takes a step backward.

“So,” Eddie stammers, voice shaking, “I’m going to go help Birdie with the popcorn. You want to get another movie started?”

Hands still frozen in the air, Steve finally lets his clenched fists fall to his sides. Eddie can see the whites of his knuckles. He hears Steve sigh, exhausted and frustrated, but Steve’s nodding with furrowed brows and taking a step backward towards the living room– away from Eddie. Too far to reach out to.

Turning away, Eddie’s in the middle of forming an escape attempt when he opens the kitchen door to immediately be swept up in Robin’s arms. Of course she’d been listening. He’s grateful for it, now that he doesn’t have to explain himself. As he buries his face into her neck, he finds a wet patch and wonders what kind of accident she got into while prepping snacks. It’s not until she starts gently shushing him that he realizes he’s crying, tears soaking into her shirt. 

“It’s gonna be ok, teddy bear,” she says, running her hand through his curls, “he’ll get there, I promise. He’s working on it, you know that.”

He nods. He does know that. Steve’s been out to Robin for a few months, but only to Eddie for a few weeks. He deserves the space to figure it out, and the grace of those around him to do so at his own pace. Still, Eddie can’t help his growing impatience alongside the increasing severity of his crush. At least Robin’s here to support the both of them.

The two of them finish gathering the snacks in silence. She was full of awkward jokes to try to lighten the mood, but when it was clear Eddie was stuck in his head, she’d stopped. He feels bad about it. He’ll make it up to her later, plus he knows she’s not upset with him. Eddie suspects they’ll be getting together sometime tomorrow to rehash everything that’s happened– after she’s finished consoling Steve, of course.

When they leave the kitchen, Eddie’s surprised to find Steve exactly where he’d left him. He’s standing frozen in the hallway, lip pulled between his teeth and hands still clenched. But when he lifts his gaze to meet Eddie’s, there’s resolve behind his eyes.

“Eddie,” Steve says, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“Oh my god! Finally!”

Eddie jumps violently at Robin’s shouting, almost directly into his ear. She’s flushed red with embarrassment decorated with a manic grin so wide he wonders if it’ll just keep stretching like taffy. There’s popcorn poured out onto the floor from where she clearly threw her hands up in excited exasperation. He watches as her eyes grow wide, her smile morphing into shock, her lips forming a perfect ‘o’, as if to say ‘oh shit, I just interrupted the most important moment in my best friends’ lives because I’m so excited and impatient that these two dinguses finally figured their shit out’.

She kicks the scattered popcorn towards the wall, like that’ll somehow hide the mess, before awkwardly passing them both down the hall towards the living room.

Eddie loves her so much.

“Huh,” Eddie chuckles, “well that was–”

“I’ve known I’ve liked you since last summer when you let me help you into my pool onto Holly’s rubber duck floaty so you could finally go swimming after you finished physical therapy.” Steve sounds out of breath, words running into each other with misplaced breaths in between. Like if he stops, he knows he won’t start again. 

It’s the only time Eddie’s felt the urge to keep quiet– when he’s not fighting for his life.

“You were so nervous,” Steve plows on, “but you said you felt safe with me, that you wanted only me to be there. You said you trusted me to help without laughing or judging you. Fuck, Eddie, you were so goddamn cute once we got you settled in with a Coke with a crazy straw in it. We were listening to ABBA and you didn’t even complain and you were so sunburnt the next day. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

The memory leaves Eddie shocked. He did trust Steve to help, didn’t even consider asking anyone else because Steve just felt like the most obvious answer. He’d been there through the worst of Eddie’s post-PT work to make sure he ‘kept form’ on his exercises. They’d lounged in the sun all day, and it was the first time Eddie watched Steve relax since his final Upside-Down battle. 

Eddie feels his lip quiver, eyes burning, knowing they’d felt the same that day. Judging by Steve’s watery eyes, he guesses they feel the same now, too. 

“But love,” Steve whispers. He swallows as he takes a step closer, reaching out to grasp his hands. “Eddie Munson, I knew I was in love with you yesterday.”

His shoulders tighten as he recalls yesterday, surprised because they hadn’t seen each other at all, one of the rare days where their schedules didn’t line up. It was the first time in months they’d gone longer than thirty-six hours without seeing each other. Sure, they’d talked on the phone while Steve worked, but it’s not the same.

“I know,” Steve laughs, clocking Eddie’s confusion. “I thought about you all day. Couldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. Robin had to work with the customers because all I kept thinking about was tonight. If you’d get here before Robin, so we could sit out by the pool and smoke. Where we’d sit for the movie and if we’d get to share the popcorn bucket. If you’d pick a movie I hadn’t seen, so you’d lean in close and tell me a million random facts, even when you know I don’t really get it. But I just like when you’re close, next to me, and–” he hesitates– “I think that’s why you do it.”

Steve lifts their joined hands, wiping a tear from his eye using the back of Eddie’s knuckles. He returns the gesture, wiping what Eddie’s guessing is a mix of tears and snot off of his own face with Steve’s sleeve. 

“I think you lean in because you want to be close to me, too, and you don’t actually care about the movie either. Eddie, I think you ask for my help because you trust me in a way only Robin does. You give me cute nicknames like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘pretty boy’ because you’re teasing me, but I think it’s mostly because you really mean it.” Steve’s stepped closer now, and Eddie can feel the warmth of shared air between their gasping breaths. 

“I think you tease me and lean into me because you want my attention,” Steve whispers, brushing his nose alongside Eddie’s as their foreheads touch. “But Eddie, you’ve always had my attention.”

Eddie surges forward, capturing Steve’s tear-soaked lips between his own in what has to be the snotiest kiss either of them has ever had. But he doesn’t care. How could he? Eddie’s kissing the man he’s been in love with for almost eight months. 

Steve drops Eddie’s hands in favor of running one through his dark curls, while the other grips tightly at his waist. He can’t help but cup Steve’s cheeks, running a gentle thumb along his cheekbones. 

It’s soft and messy and everything he’s ever hoped for, because Steve Harrington is his everything, and he’ll do anything to keep him. Right now, he doesn’t have to worry about what they’ll tell their friends, or how they’ll explain this to Nancy, or even if Robin’s listening behind the door– he’s sure she is. No, right now, he lets himself bask in the glow of Steve’s love and soak in the comfort that Steve feels loved in return.

[kennahjune]

Steddie

I’m joining the s3 steddie train :D

…

Steve was late. He was so late and so dead. Robin was going to kill him— he’d never make it out of Scoops Ahoy alive.

This was his thought process after dropping Will Lucas and Max off at Mikes. This was also his thought process the entirety of the way to Scoops while he shoved his way through the mall.

The moment he entered the small shop Robins eyes locked on him in a glare. Steve barely gave her a second before he was going to the back room to get ready for his shift.

He heard the back room door open behind him.

“You’re—“

“24 minutes late I know,” he said as calmly as he could while trying to relax his breathing.

“Yeah and—“

“And you get an extra 25 minutes for your break, yes Robin I know!”

Steve finally closed his employee cubby and turned to look at Robin. “Look. Im sorry I was so late today but Will, Lucas and Max are assholes when they’re being petty and they needed a ride to Mikes cause all the others were busy! I’ll take closing shift today to if you’re really that mad.”

Robin stared at him angrily from the doorway. “Fine.” She uncrossed her arms. “And yes, you will be taking the closing shift tonight. I have a study date with a friend that I can’t miss.”

“It’s summer vacation?”

“Shut up!”

Steve shrugged when the door closed.

He closed the door to his employee locker with a little more force than necessary. He had a migraine building and the bright, florescent lights of the mall weren’t helping in the slightest.

He walked out and began his shift.

…

Eddie wanted to enjoy his day off. Preferably by himself. But Gareth and Jeff decided that his personal life was their personal life. So here they were.

He had wanted to spend the day away from the mall, considering that that was where everyone seemed to be nowadays. But the guys were insistent.

So they were walking around. It wasn’t too bad, considering Eddie had gotten himself a new record and tape with his newest paycheck. They were sitting at the fountain when Gareth shouted right in Eddie’s ear:

“HOLY SHIT!”

Eddie just about punched him with how hard he jumped. Jeff spit out his Pepsi all over Eddie.

While Eddie was worrying about getting the sticky drink off of his skin, Gareth continued with; “is that HARRINGTON in Scoops?”

Well. Now he has Eddie’s attention.

Sure enough, just in Eddie’s line of sight, was Steve Harrington in a sailors uniform and a dorky hat.

A dorky hat that was soon snatched up by his current customer, Billy Hargrove.

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder and leaned over him to get a better view. “Is that Hargrove?”

“Yep.” Eddie popped the P.

“It looks like he’s messing with Harrington.”

“Yep.” Another pop on the P.

“And Harrington looks like he’s gonna fucking explode.”

Eddie agreed. Harrington was red in the face and not in the cute blushy-way he usually gets (don’t ask why Eddie knows that). He was talking back to Hargrove, probably something bitchy and sarcastic in typical Harrington-fashion based on the way Hargrove seemed to recoil for a moment before jumping back.

“Should we do something?” Gareth asked skeptically. Jeff shrugged where he was pressed against Eddie’s back.

“I’m going in.” Eddie stood and nearly knocked Jeff down in the process.

“Hang on—“

“Nope! Wish me luck, boys!” Eddie yelled over his shoulder while he dashed over. He heard them both get up and follow him.

…

Steve wanted to cry.

His head hurt so fucking bad and his back was killing him and he had ran into a shelf earlier and had a killer bruise on his arm and leg from it and everything was too fucking much.

Then, in all his asshole and dick glory, in came Billy Hargrove.

At this point, Steve would rather take another plate to the head then have to deal with his annoyingly aggravating voice. Hargrove came in, probably expecting Robin to be there, but got Steve instead. And honestly Steve would rather deal with him then leave Robin with him.

So he’s been enduring it, giving his own comments and comebacks but overall hating his life and just wanting to curl up and die.

Then his savior showed up. In all his black leather and chains, Eddie fucking Munson.

Hallelujah.

Hargrove seemed to back down the moment Munson showed up. Which wasn’t too strange considering that Munson supplied over half of Hawkins’ weed supply. Including Steve’s own for a while. He hasn’t bought in a while cause of the brat brigade.

But not the point.

Hargrove nodded to Munson. “Munson.”

Wow. Real cool, Billy. Steve held back a snicker.

“Heeyyy, Hargrove!” Munson cheerily greeted. But there was something about his smile that was off, to Steve. It seemed tighter than usual, his eyes not crinkling with the motion like normal. Don’t ask why Steve knows this.

Munson’s eyes seemed darker, too. Like he was angry. Maybe Hargrove didn’t pay him? Steve couldn’t bother to care with how bad his head started to pound.

He shouldn’t be at work with this migraine. He knows that. His doctor’s told him this multiple times. But he owes it to Robin for being late so much and he needs to prove to his dad that he can take care of himself.

“So what brings you here, Billy?” Munson asks casually, stepping farther into the shop. Steve seems to finally be forgotten about, and he places his head down on the counter. The cooled surface definitely helps with the spinning room.

He hears Hargrove say something back, but he isn’t paying attention anymore. His eyes are stating to go blurry and he really needs to sit down. But then Munson says something that catches his attention:

“Just leave Harrington alone, man. Last I checked he did nothing to you.”

What the hell? Steve wished he could lift his head and see what Munson was doing. What he looked like when he said that. If he looked as mean as he sounded.

Steve only lifts his head a few moments later when he feels a hand on his back. He shoots up quicker than he intends, and nearly falls back down if not for the hands still holding him up.

“Shit,” he grumbles quietly to himself, whining even quieter at the sudden rush of pain and the black dots in his vision.

“Easy there, your highness.” Munson.

Steve blinks slowly, letting Munson set him down in a booth. He doesn’t remember walking over but he’ll take it. He puts his head back down and intertwines his fingers behind his head. He groans quietly again, the pounding slowly receding.

“Hey man, is there something we could do? Do you need anything?” He heard Munson ask.

We? Steve wants to ask, but finds himself not caring. “Water, and my bag from the back please,” he rasps out. Talking makes the pounding worse.

He hears someone rush off to the back and a moment later a hands on his back again and is helping him sit up.

“Here ya go sweetheart.” Munson slides the glass of water and bag over to him.

Steve silently reaches into his bag and pulls out his small “to-go” med-kit. He carries it around mainly for the kids. Mike tends to be clumsier than he comes off as and Max is always trying out some new skateboarding tricks. From inside the kit he pulls out a pill bottle and swallows 2 with the water and goes for another 2 before a hand stops him.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take more than 2.” This voice is new but familiar. Steve squints past the blurriness and makes out someone he recognizes from school; Gareth Emerson.

“4,” Steve manages past the lump in his throat. Munson, Emerson, and someone else Steve doesn’t quite know look at him. Munson continues to hold Steve’s hand on the table, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. It weirdly intimate but the comfort is very welcome.

“4 what?” The other guy asks.

“4 pills. I usually take 4.”

Munson and Emerson both wince. The third guy looks at him like he’s insane. Steve finally recognizes him as Jeff,… something. He actually never got his last name.

“Dude— are you trying to overdose!?”

Steve winced at the sudden loudness, whining quietly. Munson shushed Jeff and Steve heard him rush out an apology.

The bell over the door dinged at that moment, and Steve found himself face to face with Max, Mike, Will, Lucas, and— for some reason— Jonathan.

“Uh— hi?” Steve attempted for a greeting.

“‘Hi!?’” Mike yelled. “Hi yourself man! We called your walkie at least 4 times!! What the hell?”

“Are you ok? Why didn’t you answer?” Will asked in a much quieter tone.

Lucas and Max wasted no time before slotting themselves in the booth with Steve. Munson remained across from Steve, and Emerson and Jeff now hovered farther away, but Lucas slid right in next to Munson and Max next to Steve.

“What the fuck, Harrington?” Max demanded. But she clung to his shirt tightly.

“Language, Mayfield,” he reprimanded quietly.

Mike paused where he stood. “Why are you talking so quietly? Shit— do you have a migraine?”

Suddenly 4 pairs of little eyes were gazing at him with unmasked concern. Holy shit was this overwhelming.

“Guys—“

“Why didn’t you say that, Steve?” Lucas asked.

“Are you ok? How long has it been going on for? Asked Will.

“Why are even here if you’re not able to function properly?” Mike reprimanded in his own caring-ness.

Max clutched to him tighter. “Why aren’t you at home? You could’ve called in sick or something!”

“Shhh!” Mike shushed her.

“Don’t shush me—“

“Shut up!” He whisper shouted. “You have to be quiet and try to control your temperature while resting in a dark, quiet room to try and help with migraines. Pain killers help to but no more than 3.”

Everyone stared at him. He went a little pink under the sudden attention.

“Nancy gets migraines a lot from reading in the dark.”

Jonathan came over right then. Steve was suddenly overwhelmed by all the people surrounding him.

“Uhm—“

“Hey,” Munson called. Steve forgot about him for a good moment. “This is cute and all, but maybe we should not surround him? Poor boy looks like he’s gonna cry.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Tears had— in fact— sprung to his eyes.

“Sorry!” All the kids rushed out quietly at the same time. Max climbed out of the booth and Munson and Jonathan both assisted with helping Steve to the break room. Jeff and Emerson stayed with the kids, but Mike came with them since he seemed to know what he was doing better than the 3 of them.

On their way back to the room though, Steve’s legs nearly gave out from under him. Shit. It’s one of those days. Munson just barely managed to catch him under the armpits while Jonathan got him by the waist.

“Woah there, sweetheart.” Munson grunted.

“Careful, Steve,” Jonathan said quietly.

“Sorry. Spinning.” Steve exhaled shakily.

Mike came rushing back after realized they weren’t with him. “Damn. Spinning? Are you able to walk? Or are they gonna have to carry you?”

Jonathan looked up at the mention of having to carry Steve. “Yeah— I’m not able to carry him. I am so not strong enough for that.” He had the decency to look apologetic.

Munson chuckled quietly and the sound reverberated through his chest where Steve’s head was. It was soothing.

“Don’t worry Big Byers. I’ve got him no problem.”

Steve was given no warning before he was being picked up in a bridal carry. He winced sharply and laid his head on Munson’s shoulder. Jonathan whistled lowly from somewhere beside them and Steve blindly kicked his leg in his direction, scoring in kicking him in the arm. Jonathan snickered.

…

When Munson chased off Hargrove he didn’t expect for Harrington to all but collapse in on himself and try to fucking overdose on like 5 pain killers. He also hadn’t expected to be bombarded by 4 kids and 1 Jonathan Byers. Least of all did he expect to be carrying Harrington bridal style to the break room of Scoops Ahoy.

Somewhere behind him, Gareth turned the sign on the door to closed. Eddie silently thanked him.

The kid— who he vaguely remembers as Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother— opens the door and startles a half asleep Robin Buckley.

“Hello,” Jonathan throws her way before pulling a chair out for Eddie to sit on.

“Uh— hi? What the hell—“

Eddie takes the seat with Harrington in his lap. Robin looks dumbfounded.

“Migraine,” Jonathan helpfully supplies.

“Really, really bad migraine. Vertigo included. Full package tonight, folks.” Mike adds.

“Ok— um, is he ok? He doesn’t look ok. If it was so bad why didn’t he just call in sick?”

“That’s a good question,” Mike retorts quietly while rooting around in a freezer.

“What are you looking for”, Robin asks.

“Ice pack. The dumbass has everything in that first aid kit of his except a damn ice pack.”

“Language,” Harrington reprimanded quietly from where his cheek was against Eddie’s chest. Eddie chuckled quietly when Mike retorted with a half-assed “sorry”.

Eddie couldn’t help but admire the now sleeping Harrington in his lap. He bent in half like a shrimp, his knees just about to his chest, and his hands gripping tightly onto Eddie’s still-Pepsi-soaked t-shirt. But he looked so at peace while asleep. Like he hadn’t just had the worst migraine Eddie’s ever seen and wasn’t just about to pass out on his feet. Eddie smiled.

Mike comes over silently, managing to sneak up on Eddie and make him jump slightly and causing Harrington to whine. He’d been whining a lot today. And under “different circumstances” Eddie would’ve found it hot as fuck.

“Sorry,” Mike whispered. He seemed to be able mellow out a lot when he actually tried. He seemed like such an asshole out at the booth but now he seems quieter. These kids really cared about Harrington, huh?

“Here.” Jonathan helped him out and gently picked up Harrington’s head. Eddie caught Harrington actually kind of leaning into his touch. A strange but endearing friendship. Mike placed the ice pack— now wrapped in a cloth— on Eddie’s chest where Harrington’s head lays.

Harrington lays back down and is out like a light soon enough.

Eddie zoned out until there’s a very, very soft knock on the door. When he looks up, Jonathan is letting the other 3 kids in while Jeff and Gareth stand in the doorway.

“Is he ok?” Asks Jonathan’s little brother.

Jonathan nods and pats his head. “He’s ok, Will.”

The redhead walks over and takes a silent seat next to Eddie so she’s next to Harrington. She takes Harrington’s hand in hers and proceeds to just sit there and hold it.

“He’s ok, Max. Just a migraine,” the third kid, Lucas he thinks, reassures with a hand on Max’s shoulder.

“That’s what he said before. And then he was in the hospital.”

Woah, what?

“Hm?” Lucas looks at him.

Oh. He said that aloud.

“Wait what?” Robin asked quietly.

Jonathan’s whistled lowly. It seems to be a bit of a tic for him. “Yeah uh— funny story. Hargrove broke a plate over Steve’s head last year and nobody realized how bad it actually was until he passed out after claiming it was only a migraine.”

“He ended up in the hospital for like 2 weeks,” added Lucas.

“He needed several stitches on the side of his head.” Max unhappily supplied. Lucas squeezed her shoulder.

“It was a stage 4 concussion,” muttered Will and Mike put his head on his shoulder.

Eddie caught Gareth and Jeff’s eyes across the break room. Huh.

The Will kid came up to Eddie suddenly. “Thank you. For uh— helping with Steve. It means a lot to us. He means a lot to us.”

Mike, Max, and Lucas all nodded.

“Hang on,” Lucas piped up. “Who are you?”

…

So uh— set myself up for a part 2 there :’D

Part 2

[chocolatequeennk]

Forever Timeless, 12/24

Summary: Two months after the Dalek Crucible, the Doctor and Rose are getting used to having the biggest family on Earth. As they visit Leadworth in 1996, Victorian England, a mysterious desert planet, and Elizabethan England, those family and friends often help in unexpected ways. But no matter where they go or who they’re with, it’s always the Doctor in the TARDIS with Rose Tyler–just as it should be.

Ten x Rose, Donna x Lee

Betaed by @rudennotgingr, @pellaaearien, and @jabber-who-key

Tagging @doctorroseprompts 

Part 7 of Being to Timelessness

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11

Chapter Twelve: It’s Pretty…

“I promise. I’m going to get you home.”

Rose held her breath after the Doctor gave his promise, but after a long moment, the tension on the bus shifted from fear and panic to hope. Rose smiled at the Doctor. She loved the way his words managed to calm people down, every time. Well, if he isn’t making them mad at least.

Oi!

She smirked, letting her tongue peek out a little. There’s not much middle ground with you.

He tugged on his ear. Yes… Well, just be glad this was the former. 

Then he bounced on his toes and grinned at their little band. “Excellent! So, let’s get started. The first thing we need to do is take the seats apart. We’re going to drive out of here on the backs of those seats.”

Nathan pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I’ve got a little Swiss army knife,” he offered. “I can use the screwdriver to get started.” 

“Excellent! Barclay, you help out.” The Doctor looked around at the group. “Does anyone else have tools on them? Pocket knife, et cetera?”

Lady Christina pulled her backpack closer, and he focused on her. 

“Christina?”

She hesitated, and he raised an eyebrow. “If we want to get home, we all need to work together. I don’t think an alien planet is what you meant when you said you were going far away.”

Christina sighed and unzipped her bag. “Here,” she said, handing Barclay an axe. “That should help you get the seats taken apart.”

“Excellent. Now, who wants to see if we can get this bus started?” He glanced to his right. “Angela?”

She nodded. “I can do that.” 

“Thank you.” The Doctor held out his hand for Rose and she stood up with him. “Rose and I will take a closer look at the bus while you get started. There might be something else we can use that we haven’t noticed yet.”

So, this seems a bit more serious than we thought, Rose said as they left the bus.

You mean Carmen’s vision that death is coming? He nodded. I’ve got a strong sense that we don’t have much time. Let’s make the bus an actual backup plan, in case Jenny doesn’t get to the TARDIS in time.

Lady Christina hopped out of the bus before Rose could agree with the Doctor’s assessment. “Hold on. You’re the man with all the answers. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes before he turned around. “Was I out of sight? I thought you could see me through the windows.”

Christina pursed her lips. “You know what I mean. Come on, there’s something more going on here, isn’t there? That little machine, the wormhole, Carmen’s prediction…” 

He shook his head. “We were investigating the… anomaly. We hadn’t finished our investigation, hence we have no conclusions. However, I intend to keep working.”

They were thankfully interrupted by Barclay and Nathan before Christina could push further on the subject of Carmen’s prediction. They’d only just calmed the group down—they didn’t need her to stir up the fear again. 

Each young man carried a seat back, flourishing them proudly as they joined the Doctor, Rose, and Christina. “Here we go,��� Barclay said. 

“That’s my boys.” He paused; they could hear the thud of an axe inside the bus. “Who did you give the axe to?”

Barclay pointed at Donna, swinging the axe over her head. “She said she’d take it.” 

“Oh, I bet she did,” the Doctor muttered.

Rose laughed and shook her head. “Focus.” 

He blinked. “Right. The seat backs.” He took Barclay’s and held it flat, parallel to the ground. “See, we lay a flat surface between the bus and the wormhole, like duckboards, and we reverse into it.” 

“Let some air out of the tyres,” Christina chimed in. “Just a little bit. It spreads the weight of the bus, gives you more grip against the sand.” 

“Good idea,” Rose said. She waited to see if Christina would acknowledge her at all.

Christina glanced at her, then smiled up at the Doctor. “Holidays in the Kalahari.” 

Barclay gestured at the wheels, half buried in the sand. “Yeah, but those wheels go deep.”

The Doctor scratched at his sideburn. “Yeah, we’ll have to dig them out.”

“With what?” 

The Doctor looked at Christina. “I don’t suppose you have any other tools in that backpack of yours.”

She reached into her bag and handed a collapsible shovel to the Doctor. “Use this.” She smirked at the Doctor as he passed the shovel on to Barclay. “I told you, I’m prepared for every emergency.”

Thankfully, Christina’s boasting was interrupted by Angela’s call from the bus. “I can’t find the keys.” 

“Oh no, buses don’t have keys,” the Doctor explained as he jogged back to the door. “There’s a master switch, then it’s one button to start, the other one to stop, yeah?” 

“Right. Hold on.” Angela studied the control panel for a second. “Oh, I’ve got it.” She flipped the master switch and took a deep breath. “Here we go. Hold tight. Ding, ding.” 

Rose held her breath as Angela hit the start button. For a moment, it seemed like it would work. The engine grumbled a little, but given the circumstances, that was expected. 

But when that rough rumble turned to an unhappy whine, she walked around the bus and pulled off the engine cover. The Doctor was only two steps behind her, and together they stared at the sand pouring out of the engine. 

He reached in and brushed a few bits of sand away. “Oh, never mind losing half the top deck. You know what’s worse? Sand. Tiny little grains of sand. The engine’s clogged up.” He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “Too bad we don’t have Mr. Mickey with us.”

“He could fix this easy,” Rose agreed. “But maybe…” She returned to the other side of the bus. “Either of you know mechanics?” she asked Nathan and Barclay.

Barclay dropped his shovel. “Me. I did a two week NVQ at the garage. Never finished it, but—”

Rose grinned. “And I never got my A levels,” she replied. “Come on, see if you can help us out.” 

Back on the other side of the bus, Rose pushed Barclay forward. “Barclay here has studied mechanics at a garage—same program Mickey did back when we were in school.”

The Doctor brightened. “Off you go then.” He nodded at the open engine. “Try stripping the air filter. Fast as you can. Back in two ticks.”

Rose stepped forward and took the Doctor’s hand. “Yeah, we’re going to take a quick look around, see what we can figure out about our surprise destination.”

She pulled out her phone and sent Donna a quick text as they walked away from the bus. We’ll be right back. Keep them focused and positive.

They’d only gone a few steps when they heard Christina come up behind them. The Doctor turned and shook his head. “We’ll be right back. You should stay with the others.” She opened her mouth and he quickly cut her off. “Who knows if they might need something else you have in that bag of yours.”

She stiffened, and he raised an eyebrow. What does she have in that bag?

After a few seconds, she sighed and turned back. “Whatever it takes to get off this planet.” 

I can’t tell if she’s flirting with you, or if she just has to be the centre of attention, Rose said as they started walking again.

A little from column A, a little from column B, the Doctor suggested.

They’d only gotten to the top of the first dune when Rose’s phone chimed with a new text message. She glanced at it quickly, hoping it was from Jenny. Instead, Donna’s reply made her laugh.

Next time, you can stay behind with Posh Spice.

“Donna’s not too impressed that we left her behind with Christina,” she told the Doctor.

The Doctor snorted. “No, I can’t picture them getting on.” He paused, then said, “Lady Christina, who jumps at sirens… I wonder what she was doing back in London.” 

Rose raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you noticed her reaction.” 

“She was sitting right in front of us, Rose.” 

“And you’ve never missed something that’s right in front of you?”

“Wellllll…”

Rose changed the subject as they climbed another dune. “If Carmen’s right and that wormhole isn’t an accident, that explains why it feels so unfriendly.”

The Doctor hummed his agreement. “The faster we can get off this planet, the better. I don’t care if we take a bus or the TARDIS—we just need to get out of here, now.” 

Rose shivered, despite the three alien suns. “Yeah, we do.” 

“But first, I want to get an idea of what might be out there.” 

Rose didn’t argue. The Doctor’s insatiable curiosity in the face of danger got them into trouble more often than not, but it also tended to be what got them out of trouble. After all, you couldn’t fight a problem you didn’t know you had.

But when they got to the top of the next dune and saw the hazy, glittering cloud in the distance, she wondered if maybe they should have just gone back to the bus. 

“Ah, don’t like the look of that,” the Doctor muttered.

The unfriendly feeling amplified. “I don’t think that’s a sandstorm, Doctor.” 

He shook his head. “No, neither do I. And it’s getting closer.” 

Without speaking, they both turned around and started running at an easy pace back towards the bus, following their own footsteps across the sand. 

I need your phone, he said once the bus was in sight. UNIT will be at the site back in London, and we need help figuring out what we’re facing. 

Rose reached into her pocket and handed it to him. He unlocked it and scrolled through the contacts as they jumped the stairs into the bus.

Donna glanced over at them and dropped the axe when she saw the looks on their faces. “All right, what’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” the Doctor lied. “We just need to make a phone call.” 

“You’re hardly going to get a signal,” Christina protested. “We’re on another planet.” 

“Oh, just watch me,” he said and hit dial, followed immediately by the speaker button.  

The phone picked up on the first ring. “This is the Unified Intelligence Taskforce.” 

The Doctor took a breath to launch into his speech, but the voice—which he now realised was a recording—continued.

“Please select one of the following four options. If you want to—” 

“Oh, I hate these things,” the Doctor groaned. 

“If you keep your finger pressed on zero, you get through to a real person,” Angela offered eagerly. “I saw it on Watchdog.” 

The Doctor held the 0 down and the phone rang as he was transferred to another line. “Thank you, Angela.” 

“UNIT helpline. Which department would you like?” 

The Doctor sat down and took a deep breath. “Listen, it’s the Doctor. It’s me.” 

The pause on the other end of the line was almost unnoticeable, and when the officer spoke again, their voice was brisk and no-nonsense. “Yes, sir. How can I help?”

“There’s a bus that went missing in the middle of London. I need to talk to whoever is onsite.”

“Please hold while I transfer you, sir.” 

The Doctor leaned his head against the window behind him and waited. Finally, after what felt like forever, another UNIT operative spoke. 

“Doctor? This is Captain Erisa Magambo. Might I say, sir—it’s an honour.” 

There was something in that pause, almost as if… “Did you just salute?” the Doctor asked, slightly incredulous.

A brief pause, then, “No.”

Rose put her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, and the Doctor rolled his eyes at her.

“Erisa, it’s about the bus. HQ said you’re at the tunnel, yeah?”

“And where are you?” she replied, answering his question without wasting either of their time. 

“We’re on the bus.” He stood up and peered out at the expanse of golden sand. “But apart from that, not a clue, except it’s very pretty and pretty dangerous.” 

“A body came through here. Have you sustained any more fatalities?”

“No, and we’re not going to, but we’re stuck.” He flopped back onto the seat and got to the point of his call. “We haven’t got the TARDIS, and I need to analyse that wormhole.”

“We have a scientific advisor on site. Dr. Malcolm Taylor. Just the man you need. He’s a genius.” 

“Oh, is he?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that.”

“Rude!” Rose hissed. 

“I’m surprised he managed to go this long without insulting someone,” Donna retorted. 

“Oi!” The Doctor looked at Lee, but the other man just shook his head. “Oh, fine.”

The sound of a door opening and closing came through the phone, and the Doctor focused on the call. 

“It’s the Doctor,” he heard Erisa tell the supposed genius, Malcolm Taylor. 

“No, I’m all right now, thanks. It was just a bit of a sore throat. Although I’ve got to be honest, a cup of tea might be nice.” 

The Doctor pinched his nose—Dr. Taylor sounded every inch the absent-minded professor. He tried to stay hopeful that he’d be able to help them scan the wormhole.

“It’s the Doctor,” Erisa said, leaning heavily into the article.

“Do you mean… the Doctor Doctor?” Malcolm asked, breathless.

The Doctor groaned internally. He could already feel Rose’s amusement, and between her and Donna he knew he would be teased mercilessly over the apparent hero worship from UNIT.

“I know,” Erisa agreed. “We all want to meet him one day, but we all know what that day will bring.” 

The Doctor flinched. Hero worship wasn’t his favourite thing, but it was better than being considered some kind of harbinger of doom. “I can hear everything you’re saying,” he cut in, wanting to redirect the conversation.

“Hello, Doctor? Oh, my goodness!” Malcolm exclaimed.

The Doctor leaned away from the sound exploding out of the phone’s tinny speaker. “Yes, I am. Hello, Malcolm.”

Malcolm giggled nervously. “The Doctor. Cor blimey. I can’t believe I’m actually speaking to you. I mean, I’ve read all the files.”

“Really?” The Doctor perked up, his vanity momentarily distracting him from the situation at hand. “What was your favourite, the giant robot?” He shook his head quickly. “No, no, hold on. Let’s sort out that wormhole.” He got up and stepped past Christina to exit the bus. “Excuse me.”

Rose, Donna, and Lee all followed, and the foursome stood together under the suns, impatiently waiting for Malcolm to help them.

As they stepped outside, the Doctor could faintly hear Erisa talking in the background. “On speakerphone, please. I don’t want anyone keeping secrets.” 

Ooh, we’ll need to be careful we don’t tell her anything too dangerous, he thought, recognising the tone. She wanted to know what kind of threat the wormhole posed so she could close it if they needed to. On the surface, that sounded like a good idea, but until he knew the TARDIS was on her way, he needed the wormhole to stay open.

The Doctor paced under the suns. “Malcolm, something’s not making sense here. I’ve got a storm and a wormhole, and I can’t help thinking there’s a connection. I need a complete full range analysis of that wormhole. The whole thing.” 

“Well, I’ve probably got the wrong idea, but I’ve wired up an integrator. I thought it could measure the energy signature.” 

“No. No, no, no, no, no.” The Doctor rubbed at his forehead. “That’ll never work. Listen.” 

Malcolm continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “It’s quite extraordinary, though. I’m measuring an oscillation of fifteen Malcolms per second.”

The Doctor stopped pacing. “Fifteen what?”

“Fifteen Malcolms. It’s my own little term. A wavelength parcel of ten kilohertz operating in four dimensions equals one Malcolm.”

The Doctor’s jaw dropped slightly. “You named a unit of measurement after yourself?”

“I’m more impressed that he could measure in four dimensions,” Rose pointed out.

“Is that Rose Tyler? You’re both there?” 

Rose blinked. “Yeah, we’re both here.” 

“Oh, my goodness!” Malcolm breathed. “Both of you! I never thought…” 

“I’m the one impressed, Malcolm,” Rose said, bringing him back to the point at hand. “You managed to measure something in four dimensions?”

“Well yes,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact. “And yes I did name it after myself,” he added, answering the Doctor’s question. “It didn’t do Mr. Watt any harm after all. Furthermore, one hundred Malcolms equals a Bernard.” 

The Doctor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And who’s that, your dad?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s Quatermass.”

Rose and Donna laughed, and the Doctor let out a breath on a long hiss. “Right. Fine. But before I die of old age, which in my case would be quite an achievement, so congratulations on that, is there anyone else I can talk to?” 

“No, no, no, no, but listen,” Malcolm said, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. “I set the scanner to register what it can’t detect and inverted the image.”

The retort the Doctor had ready died on his lips. “You did what?”

There was an anxious pause. “Is that wrong?” Malcolm asked finally.

“No. Malcolm, that’s brilliant. So you can actually measure the wormhole. Okay. I admit that is genius.” 

Malcolm laughed giddily. “The Doctor called me a genius.” 

“I know. I heard,” Erisa said quellingly.

The Doctor cut in, wanting to get things on track. Time was running out. “Now, run a capacity scan. I need a full report. Call me back when you’ve done it.” His thumb moved to the end call button, but he paused for one last comment. “And Malcolm? You’re my new best friend.”

“And you’re mine too, sir.”

The Doctor ended the call and handed the phone back to Rose. 

“What was that all about, Spaceman?” Donna asked. “The Doctor, and read all your files, and we all want to meet you? They acted like you’re some kind of celebrity or something.” 

“Wellll… When you’re an alien who specialises in dealing with extraterrestrial threats, and you’ve spent centuries saving the Earth over and over again, you develop a bit of a reputation.” 

“Well Colonel Mace wasn’t that taken with you,” she rejoined. “You got no gushing the last time we met UNIT after all.”  

“Anyway! Rose and I are going to check out that storm. I want to get some images for Malcolm to analyse.”

“What do you want us to do?”

He gestured at the bus. “Keep working. Get the wheels dug out, the engine cleaned…” 

“Yeah, but why are we even bothering with the bus? Jenny will bring the TARDIS and we’ll all get home, easy peasy.”

“B-b-backup plan,” Lee answered.

The Doctor nodded. “Correctamundo!” He stuck out his tongue and screwed up his face. “Oh, I was never going to say that word again.”

Rose shook her head. “Come on, let’s get going. The sooner we get out there, the faster we can get back. I’m not keen on being on our own in the middle of a sand storm, or whatever it is.” 

The Doctor nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “Allons-y, Rose Tyler.” 

oOoOo

Donna sighed as she watched the Doctor and Rose walk away. Realistically, she knew it made sense for her and Lee to stay at the bus and keep things going, but she didn’t like the feeling of sitting still when they were in danger. Plus…

“Well, are we going to keep working on the bus or are we going to stand around in the hot sun all day? Personally, I’d like to get back to Earth.”

Donna turned and glared at Christina. “Yeah, we’re going to work on the bus. We’ve got Lee and Barclay cleaning out the engine, I’m taking apart the seats, and Nathan is digging out the wheels. Angela’s helping Nathan until we’re ready to start the bus… Which leaves you, Lady Christina. How do you plan to help?”

Christina walked to the opposite side of the bus and rummaged in her pack. “Here, this might help when you get most of the sand out,” she said, handing Lee a small brush.

“Thank you.” Lee stuck the brush in his shirt pocket and helped Barclay pull the filter out of the engine.

Christina looked back at Donna, a smirk on her face. “Just doing what I can to help out,” she said blithely.

Donna was ready to snarl at her, but then the snobby aristocrat did something she did not expect. She sat down by the back wheel and pulled a gold cup out of her bag and started digging into the sand.

“What is that?” Donna shrieked.

Christina kept digging. “Just something I picked up earlier today.” 

Donna heard Lee stand up and walk over to her side. “That’s the cup of Æthelstan,” he said. “It’s been in the International Gallery for centuries, except for a brief period when it was…” His eyes narrowed. “When it was stolen.” 

Donna looked from Lee to the cup and back at Lee, then the pieces clicked. To Lee, the theft was history, but they were watching it happen in real time. 

Christina tossed another cupful of sand off to the side. “I like to think I liberated it.” 

“No no,” Donna said, rocking back on her heels. “Activists liberate zoo animals, and protesters might knick pillaged cultural works to take them home. You’re just a thief.” 

“Hang on,” Barclay said. “There were sirens chasing us earlier, when we were on the bus. They were after you, weren’t they?” 

Christina shrugged. “What can I say? The Metropolitan Police can’t get enough of me.” 

Donna wanted to snark that they’d get plenty of her as soon as they all got back to London and she was handed over to the police, but she had a strong suspicion that if she did, the lady would refuse to help them get home. 

“Right,” she muttered. “I don’t have time to stand around chatting. I have to get the seats taken apart.” 

Hacking away at the seats was the perfect outlet for her anger. After she’d gotten another seat back dismantled and handed it to Nathan, she felt calmer. 

She sat back and tried to smile at Carmen and Lou, but the older woman was gripping the seat in front of her and staring blankly ahead. 

“So fast and strong,” she murmured. “They ride the storm. They are the storm.”

Lou put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “But what are they?” he asked. 

Carmen’s head snapped over to look at him. “They devour.” 

Donna tossed the axe onto the seat and sat down. “Oh, well that’s just lovely.” 

Carmen ignored her, still looking into space with that eerie, unseeing yet sees too much gaze. “There’s something new,” she said, her voice sharper. 

Donna jumped to her feet. Her first thought was to run after the Doctor and Rose, but she had no idea which direction they’d gone. 

A phone call will have to do.

oOoOo

Rose waved to Donna, then took off with the Doctor over the dunes. She grabbed his hand and swung it lightly, and glanced sideways at him. “Sooooo…” she said, with a lilt in her voice. “It sounds like I have some competition for the spot of the Doctor’s number one fan.” 

He pressed his tongue against the backs of his front teeth. “That was… interesting, wasn’t it?”

He hip checked her, and when Rose glanced up at him she recognised the smug smile. “But I’m not the only one with a fan club, it seems! Malcolm was just as excited to be talking to you as to me.” 

Rose felt her cheeks warm, but she gave the Doctor a smart nod and a saucy wink. “About time someone realises I’m not just your plus one.” 

From the top of the next dune, they had a view of the whole desert. The storm glittered ahead of them, and the Doctor filmed it with Rose’s phone. “I’m going to send this back to Earth and see if Malcolm can analyse that storm,” he said as he dropped the images into an email to UNIT. 

Rose squinted at the clouds. “Do you see the way those clouds are shining?” she said. “There’s something in there.”

“Like metal,” the Doctor agreed. “Why would there be metal in a storm?”

“Tornadoes pick up all kinds of debris,” Rose suggested.

“But where did it come from?” He held his arms out, indicating the sandy dunes surrounding them. “There’s not exactly a lot of metal lying around here.” He pursed his lips and stared at the storm. “No, there’s something else…” 

Rose jumped when her phone rang. “Hi, Donna. How are things on your end?”

“Not bad. We’ve got the wheels just about completely dug out. Even Lady Christina has been helping.” 

She took a breath, and Rose realised this wasn’t just a status update.

“Rose, listen. Carmen says there’s something new. I don’t know what that means, but I thought I should warn you.” 

Rose heard a clicking sound behind her, like the sound of the antennae of an insectoid clicking together. She turned slowly and stiffened when she found a giant fly, pointing a weapon directly at her.

“Thanks, but you’re a little late.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Just keep working on the bus.” Rose pressed the end call button and slowly slid her phone back into her pocket. 

“Doctor.” 

“Hmmm?”

“Turn around.” 

“What?” He turned. “Oh. Well that’s a complication I hadn’t anticipated.”

Rose held her hands out in front of her and the Doctor copied her. She waited for him to speak, but when he did, it was in the clicks of the fly’s native tongue.

“You speak their language?” she asked, then quickly shook her head. Of course he did, and right now, he had to. Without the TARDIS on the planet, there was no way for the translation matrix to provide a direct translation to the alien.

I can help with that, the Doctor said, pulling Rose deeper into the bond.

The fly shook his head and his antennae bobbed. “We won’t wait. You will face justice now.”

Rose blinked again; now she could hear the clicks of the insect language and also telepathically hear the meaning from the Doctor. She appreciated being brought into the conversation, though it was disconcerting to hear it in two languages at once.

The Doctor turned his hands slowly so his palms faced the sky. “Before we face justice, could we have a chance to explain?”

Rose held her breath. There had to have been some kind of misunderstanding, but it was never a given that they’d be allowed to explain.

The alien rocked back on his heels, then swiftly gestured with the weapon. Rose and the Doctor turned and walked ahead of him, keenly aware the whole time that the weapon was pointed at their backs. 

oOoOo

Twenty minutes later, Rose’s legs were burning. “Remind me to add a beach workout to the routine,” she muttered to the Doctor. “Walking on sand is nothing like running on a hard surface.” 

His foot slipped and he skidded a few steps, his arms flailing. “Agreed,” he grunted once he caught his balance. 

But at the top of the next dune, they finally saw where they were going. Rose narrowed her eyes at the cruise liner, split almost in half on the sand. “Were they caught in the wormhole like us, do you think?” 

“Could be,” he agreed. “Their ship is even more damaged than the bus.” 

A knot tightened in Rose’s stomach. “Doctor, they said we’d face justice. What if they think we’re behind the wormhole?”

“Then we’ll have to convince them we aren’t.” 

Rose sighed in pleasure when they walked into the ship. “Oh, this feels brilliant,” she said, luxuriating in the feeling of the cold air on her skin after being fried by three suns for almost two hours.

“Mmm. The hull’s made of photafine steel. Turns cold when it’s hot. Boiling desert outside, freezing ship inside.”

“Able to regulate the temperature… Reminds me of someone I know.”  

The Doctor winked at her and narrowly missed running into a piece of tubing that was dangling from the ceiling. Rose shook her head. 

“Better watch we’re you’re going, Doctor.”

He ducked under the next piece of dangling broken spaceship. “Oh, this is beautiful.” 

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous,” Rose agreed. “Imagine what it must have looked like when it was intact.”

“Mm-hmm. A proper streamlined deep spacer.” 

They reached the bridge and met a second alien. Their captor walked around them and stood beside his crew mate. The newer alien tapped a round button on his jumpsuit and it turned purple.

Rose felt the Doctor relax.

“Oh, right, good. Yes. Hello,” he said, sounding considerably less on edge than he had. He nodded at the purple button and explained. “That’s a telepathic translator. He can understand us.” 

“Oh good. It didn’t feel fair that I could understand them but they couldn’t understand me.”

The aliens’ mandibles clicked, and Rose realised belatedly that admitting she’d been able to understand them the whole time might not be the best move. But instead of waving their weapons at her, they turned to each other and had a quick conversation, deciding who would do the talking.

The second alien, who they now knew was the captain, prevailed. “You have committed an act of violence against the Tritovore race,” he said, the Doctor still telepathically translating for Rose. “According to Article Fourteen of the Shadow Proclamation, we will claim justice against you for your crimes.”

The Doctor’s easy manner disappeared. “Now hold on—”

But the alien wasn’t finished detailing their crimes. “You came here in the two hundred to destroy us.” 

The Doctor blinked. He’d been getting truly upset, but that non sequitur threw him off. “Sorry, what’s the two hundred?”

“I think it’s the bus, Doctor. Must have been the two hundred line.”

“Oh.” He rocked back on his heels, processing that for a moment. “Oh! No, look. I think we’re having a bit of a misunderstanding. I’m the Doctor, by the way, and this is Rose. We got pulled through that wormhole. The two hundred doesn’t look like that normally. It’s broken, just the same as you.”

The aliens looked at each other. “They didn’t do it?”

“They didn’t do it,” the second agreed. Both of them lowered their weapons and relaxed their stance.

“Did they just… believe you?” Rose asked incredulously. “Just like that?”

The Doctor nodded. “That telepathic translator,” he explained. “It can tell if you’re telling the truth.” 

Rose’s eyes widened. “Might be nice if we could have a few of those to use on some people we meet.”

“Right!” The Doctor jogged over to the control panel. “So, first things first. There’s a very strange storm heading our way. Can you send out a probe?” he asked, scanning the panel for a button. 

The captain shook his head and waved his tentacles. “We lost power in the crash.”

“Oh.” Well, that explains why none of the panels are lit up. He leaned forward and listened, hoping to hear some kind of hum indicating the motor was still running. All he heard was a faint clicking sound. “Hmm, the crash knocked the mainline crystallography out of synch.” He straightened and grabbed a lever for leverage. “But if I can jiggle it back…” He kicked the ship and the panel lit up.

The Doctor grinned and rocked back on his heels. “I thank you,” he said smugly.

“You’re a genius!”

“Yes, I am. Frequently.” With the ship now running properly, his fingers danced over the controls. “Okey doke, let’s launch that probe.” 

Rose stepped forward and took his hand. “While we wait for the probe to reach the storm, maybe we can figure out where we are.” 

“Right you are, Rose.” The Doctor pulled up another panel and tapped in a command. A holographic image popped up in front of them, reminding the Doctor of the display at the Shadow Proclamation.

He recognised the splash of orange and red against the greens and blues. “The Scorpion Nebula. We’re on the other side of the universe.” The image zoomed in on the star system, then on a single planet. “The planet of San Helios.” 

Something about it seemed off to Rose, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

Behind them, the Tritovores started talking again. “We came here to trade with San Helios. With a population of one hundred billion, they are a rich source of material for us to absorb.”

Rose glanced at them over her shoulder. “By material for them to absorb, they mean waste matter, don’t they?”

The Doctor nodded. “Yeah. They feed off what others leave behind from their behind.”

Rose wrinkled her nose. “Well, I guess they are flies.” 

The image on the screen switched to a picture of a bustling city with high rise buildings surrounded by green parks. 

“San Helios City,” the Doctor told her .

Rose slid her hand into his. I love exploring new worlds with you.

He hummed happily in the back of his throat and squeezed her hand. Oh yes.

They watched the video overview of the city, high rise buildings surrounded by so many green parks. Rose narrowed her eyes, and she finally realised what had seemed off about the planet. 

“Yeah… it’s a bit green for a desert planet, isn’t it?” the Doctor agreed. “Could just be that we’re on another continent, but there was a lot of blue and green on that planet.

“Let’s see if my hunch is right…” The Doctor pulled up another control screen and slid a map on screen, next to the picture. He typed in his query, and a red dot appeared in the middle of the map.

Behind them, the aliens clicked in agreement. 

“So… San Helios city,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. “We’re in it right now.”

Rose stared at the picture, at the beautiful buildings, and she said the first thing that came to mind. “Well, I guess we know where that storm got the metal.”

“Ooh, good point Rose!” The Doctor slid over the image of the city and opened the meta data. “And this picture was only taken last year. Whatever caused the city to turn to dust, it happened fast.” 

Rose’s mind immediately went to Carmen. “All those people… they left a psychic imprint when they died, didn’t they? That’s what Carmen is hearing.”

The Doctor nodded. “She’s hearing them die.” He knelt down and picked up some of the sand. “I said there was something in the sand. The city, the oceans, the mountains, the wildlife, and a hundred billion people turned to sand.” 

Rose stared at the sand trickling through the Doctor’s fingers. “So that picture of the planet… it’s not that we’re on another continent, is it?”

“Nope. Something destroyed the whole of San Helios.” 

The cheerful jingle of Rose’s mobile ringing disrupted the solemn atmosphere that had fallen over them. “Hello?”

“Hi Mum.” 

Rose’s stomach tensed; Jenny sounded stressed. “Hi Jenny, what’s up?”

The long, slow breath before Jenny answered didn’t ease Rose’s tension. “We’re almost to London, but traffic’s picked up a bit. And by a bit, I mean a lot.”

Tension flowed both ways over the bond, and Rose knew the Doctor had heard. Rose rubbed at her forehead. “Where exactly are you?” she asked.

“We just passed the turning for the M25.” 

Rose pursed her lips and nodded. They were almost to Chiswick then, but with traffic who knew how long it would take them to get to the TARDIS?

Her phone beeped with another incoming call. Rose glanced at the display quickly before putting the phone back to her ear. “Listen, Jenny, we’ve got another call. Just… get the TARDIS here as quickly as you can, okay?”

She didn’t wait to hear Jenny’s acknowledgement before handing the phone to the Doctor. “Unknown caller. Probably Malcolm.”

He grabbed it and accepted the call. “Malcolm, tell me the bad news,” he said without preamble. Between what they’d learned about the planet and Jenny’s call, there was no way Malcolm had good news.

“Oh, you are clever,” Malcolm breathed. “It is bad news. It’s the wormhole, Doctor. It’s getting bigger. We’ve gone way past one hundred Bernards. I haven’t invented a name for that.” 

The Doctor rubbed his eyes. A wavelength parcel traveling in four dimensions at more than 100,000 kilohertz per second… The damage that could do was massive. “How can it get bigger by itself?” he asked.

“Well, that’s why I’m phoning,” Malcolm said matter-of-factly. “You’ll work it out, if I know you, sir.” 

The Doctor’s hearts thudded painfully at the amount of trust Malcolm was placing in him. Now he had to not only get everyone on the bus back to Earth, he also had to save the planet… again.

Erisa cut into his musings. “Doctor, we estimate the circumference of your invisible wormhole is now… four miles heading upwards. I’ve grounded all flights above London. We can’t risk anyone else falling through.”

The Doctor nodded; excellent thought. “Good work, both of you.”

“But I have to know.” 

He tensed; he knew what question was coming next.

“Does that wormhole constitute a danger to this planet?” 

Rose’s phone beeped halfway through Erisa’s question. The Doctor sighed in relief.

“Oh, sorry. Call waiting. Got to go.” He accepted the second call. “Yeah?”

“Doctor, it’s Donna. We’ve got everything ready, but—”

“It’s my fault,” Angela sobbed in the background. 

The Doctor could faintly hear Nathan trying to console her, but it didn’t sound like he was having much success. 

“What’s wrong, Donna?”

“Well, you wouldn’t happen to know where the nearest petrol station is, would you?”

The Doctor pinched the bridge of his nose and started pacing. “You kept starting the engine, hoping it would turn over, and you ran out of petrol.” 

“Yeah.” 

He stared out at the sand that had once been the vibrant San Helios City. They had to get off this planet, the faster the better. Jenny was stuck in traffic trying to get to the TARDIS, and their backup plan had just fallen apart.

“We’re on our way.” But as the Doctor slid Rose’s phone into his jacket pocket, he had no idea what they would do once they got there.

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt2 to this post

'Is something wrong?' Nancy asks, not long after the two of them have taken their familiar spots on the hood of Steve's car. They're basking in what might be the last warm sunlight of the year, looking out over the quarry, at a safe distance from the edge.

It's become a tradition the two of them share, ever since they reconnected back in March. It calms them both, to just sit here and take in the view, no one around but each other. Nancy is one of the few people Steve can share a comfortable silence with: sometimes they sit here quietly for what feels like hours, side by side, listening to music or to nothing but the birds singing around them. But they also have their best conversations here: it's the place where Nancy entrusted him she wanted to break up with Jonathan; it's the place where they talked about their shared past and decided they would always love each other as friends; it's the place where they finally talked about Barbara in a way they couldn't when they were younger. It's where Nancy talked about the ghosts still haunting her and Steve talked about how lonely he sometimes felt.

Steve huffs. 'How did you guess?'

'When you frown, you always do it with your whole face,' Nancy notes. 'So it's hard to miss, really.'

Steve glances at her side profile. There's a serenity to her features that's still relatively new. It means she's healing, slowly learning how to be happy again. It means she stopped waiting for the end of the world and started believing in a real future again. It makes Steve proud of how far they both have come.

'I had a fight with Eddie,' he confesses. 'And with Dustin, I guess.'

'What happened?'

He sighs. 'It's complicated.'

'Wanna tell me about it?'

The look in her eyes is kind and inviting. Steve hesitates. He wants to, but he doesn't know if he can. It's a risk. It's scary.

But he can't imagine Nancy Wheeler ever being careless with his secrets. He can't imagine her judging him, can't imagine her being as small-minded as most people in this town.

He was planning on telling her anyway, because things had been going so well with Eddie lately and – no, he shouldn't think about that right now. But maybe it would actually be nice to talk about it with Nancy.

'So, um...' His throat feels tight and his hands are sweaty. 'I recently discovered some things about myself. I-' The words get stuck somewhere on the way to his mouth, and he clears his throat.

Nancy doesn't push, but only gives him an encouraging nod, waiting for him to find his voice again.

'I found out I like boys,' he finally manages to confess. 'And I need you to know that – that that doesn't mean that what I felt for you wasn't real. It was. I loved you, and now I fell in love with a boy. And-'

'Steve.' Nancy's hand suddenly covers his, causing him to finally jerk his head away from the view over the quarry, to focus on her face again instead.

Her eyes are wide, and she squeezes his hand.

'You don't have to explain yourself to me,' she tells him. 'We're good. But thank you for telling me. For trusting me with this.'

Steve heaves out a relieved sigh, and Nancy smiles; it's that genuine kind of smile which reveals all kinds of dimples and soft lines across her face.

'We might be more similar than you thought,' she tells him, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks.

'Really?' Her words make his breath catch in his throat. He squints at her, trying to see her in this new light. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She shrugs. 'I don't know. I'm not sure yet,' she admits. 'Still figuring things out.'

'Take your time, there's no rush,' he tells her. 'But...' He bumps his shoulder against hers. 'When you're done figuring it out, talk to me, okay?'

She nods. 'Okay.'

For a while, it's quiet between the two of them. Some kind of raptor circles high above them in the sky. They both follow it with their eyes until it disappears among the tree tops west of the quarry.

'Is it Eddie?'

Steve blinks dumbly a couple of times.

'Wha- what?'

'The guy you were talking about. The one you fell in love with. It's Eddie, isn't it?'

'Jesus, Wheeler, what kind of sorceress are you?' Steve exclaims.

Nancy laughs again. 'You're not being as subtle as you think,' she tells him. 'The two of you have been hooking up for a while now, haven't you?'

Steve huffs dramatically. 'This is unfair. You know everything; I can't even tell you my own secrets anymore!'

'So what happened?' Nancy asks. 'You said you had a fight with him?'

'It's fucking stupid,' he sighs. 'Dustin was getting way too excited about the fact that I was gonna be hanging out with you, so I told him I was seeing someone. Next thing I knew, he was telling Eddie all about how I was seeing a girl.' He waves his hands around to make annoyed air quotations. 'I wanted to tell Eddie it was a misunderstanding, but Dustin was there, so I couldn't out us just like that, and he looked so betrayed and heartbroken... He didn't wanna listen to me.'

Steve sighs; he still can't manage to forget that look in Eddie's eyes when Dustin delivered the big news. 'I wish I would've talked about what I felt for him earlier. I should've been honest when I had the chance, y'know. But I was afraid he wouldn't wanna label what we had, that he wouldn't feel the same way – and now we're in this whole mess. God, he must hate me right now, Nance.'

To his surprise, Nancy gives him an unexpected slap against his arm.

'Ouch, what the hell was that for?!'

'What are you even doing here with me, Steve? You should've gone after him, tell him how you feel!'

'I tried, obviously, but he didn't wanna listen to me!'

'So make him listen! You're in love with him, he obviously feels the same way about you, and you let him leave to wallow in a broken heart he doesn't even need to have!' She rolls her eyes and slides off the car, adding something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like an exasperated 'Boys!' before she pulls Steve off the car as well. 'C'mon, time to get your ass over to the trailer park. Right. Now,' she says through gritted teeth. And, well, Steve knows better than to argue with a determined - and truthfully quite terrifying - Nancy Wheeler.

Read the last part here Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx (I only put people on this list who explicitly asked to be tagged. That's really no problem, I love to do that so dw about asking, but I got a lot of relatively vague reactions to the previous post that i'm not gonna dissect and interpret, bc I don't wanna clog anyone's notes unwanted. So just to be clear: i consider it a huge compliment if anyone asks for a tag but please do it clearly if you do!)

[oneforthemunny]

what we do in the shadows |familiar!eddie munson x vampire!reader|

prompt: eddie is your familiar, but sometimes, he can be more than just your supernatural servant.

based off the fx show, what we do in the shadows. a little au version with eddie and the gang from hawkins :)

contains: au. familiar!eddie, vampire!reader. mentions of murder. vampire things. blood. types of vampires (energy vampire lol). mean! bitchy! reader. alludes to smut?? sorta smut but not really but slight dom!reader x sub!eddie. language. minors dni.

“Eddie!” 

The muffled screech jolted Eddie from his mundane dusting, the feathered duster falling with a heavy thud onto the dark carpet, dust flying in a cloud at his feet. “Son of a bitch,” Eddie huffed, chains of his belt rattling when he bent, snatching the duster off the rug. 

“Eddie! Can you not hear me?” The piercing scream echoed through the hallway, echoing off the dark, wallpapered walls. Eddie knew he needed to hurry, that the banging on the coffin’s lid would come next, your fury following for the rest of the day. 

“I’m coming, Mistress!” Eddie’s teeth gritted, sliding down the dim, candlelit halls. How this place had managed to not burn down yet, Eddie wasn’t sure. The three of you were careless enough with the candles, always leaving them burning without a care. He supposed it was his job. 

“Eddie! Where the fuck is he?” Your muffled tone came from the coffin, black and dramatic in the middle of the room. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” Eddie huffed, pushing his bangs back out of his eyes. He needed a haircut, desperately, but with his new career, he supposed that wouldn’t happen anytime soon. 

“Finally,” You growled. Eddie was met with your glowing amber eyes narrowing in predatory rage when he lifted the coffin’s heavy lid. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?” You snapped. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a snapping comment. “I was dusting down the hall, and I lost track of-” 

“-Nevermind.” You snapped, rising quickly into a standing position. “Help me down. I have much to do today.” 

“Yes, Mistress.” Eddie stood to the side, offering his hand for you to take as you climbed down. He always wondered why you insisted on being helped out, as if you couldn’t fly out, snap your fingers and be wherever you wanted to be. It was symbolic, he decided, a way to ensure that he knew his place. 

Your hand slid into his. His skin tickled when you brushed your long, claw-like nails that were freshly painted every Tuesday. He’d gotten very good at it, Eddie thought. A hiss fell through the room, your hand pulled back with a sizzling burn, teeth bared towards him in threat. 

“What- Eddie! What have I told you about those rings?” You pointed accusingly at his rings- silver. It was a habit, to slip them on in the morning, one he hadn’t broken yet. “Are you trying to hurt me?” 

“No, no.” Eddie shook his head frantically, tugging the rings off, shoving them in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I-I forgot-” 

“-I’m sure you did.” You rolled your eyes, lips pursed in displeasure. “Don’t let it happen again. I burn myself again on those cursed things, and you’ll not have a hand to put them on anymore. Understand?” You clipped, nose in the air as you climbed down, nails digging into his skin just enough to solidify the threat. 

“Yes, Mistress.” Eddie swallowed, following the commanding sway of your hips. “I won’t let it happen again.” 

“Good.” You chirped. There it was. The whirlwind that was your emotions. Mood swings, Eddie never understood why they called them that until he met you. How you would go from raging to sweet in the bat of an eye. Maybe it came with being a vampire. 

“Get my dress.” You waved your hand, the heavy mahogany closet door flinging open with ease. 

“Which one were you wanting today?” Eddie swallowed his agitated sigh. 

It had been a rough couple of days, the three- fuck, four, of his new found ‘roommates’ had been on a bender of sorts. A bender that would put the rockstars he idolized in high school to shame, much more metal than them. It was fun, Eddie would admit, but it was tiresome. Especially when he was still very much human, and so very exhausted. 

“The black one.” You hummed, looking into a mirror you couldn’t see yourself in. Habit, of course, even after all these years. 

“They’re all black, Mistress.” Eddie gritted, eyes pinching closed. 

“The one with the long sleeves.” You waved him off. “You know the one I like.” 

And he did. Eddie knew most everything about you at this point. Which dress you liked, your preference of food source, how many candles you liked lit at a time. 

Eddie pushed through the racks, stopping when he saw the velvet garment. It was what you were wearing when he first met you. At the Hideout, where he was still bussing tables, hoping to finally get a weekend gig. You strolled in, magnetic from the moment his eyes laid eyes on you. So… intriguing in your tight velvet dress, fastened with a corset that held you up and in beautifully. Initially, he’d went to try and ask you out, and you’d humored his attempts because you were hungry. Then, after a few hours of conversation, you both decided he’d be a better Familiar than a meal.

“Eddie,” You hissed, breath whistling through your fangs. The sound never failed to make Eddie’s spine tingle, hair raising on the back of his neck in fear. “Have you hit your head? Is that it?” 

“No,” Eddie grumbled, pushing the wooden hangers. 

“Then what is it? Hm? Why are you dragging your feet today?” You snapped, hands curling around your hips. 

“My apologies, Mistress.” Eddie huffed. “I’m just- nevermind. Here. I found it.” Eddie pulled the lacy material, hanging sleeves and bouts of black fabric out of the closet, hanging it on the door for you. 

“No, finish what you were going to say.” Your eyes narrowed into his, commanding, but lacking the usual tone of challenge and threat. “You’re what?” 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Do you need help zipping up this one-” 

“-No, answer me, Eddie.” You lifted a finger towards him. “Do not make me use compulsion. I know how groggy and moody you get after it, and I have many plans for today. I’d rather not, but if you’re not going to comply, then I will be forced to-” 

“-You don’t have to- Fuck, I’m just tired.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped in defeat, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t sleep much last night.” 

“Why?” Your head tilted, lips pursed in curiosity, reaching for the dress before sliding behind the dressing curtain. 

“Because,” Eddie tried to focus on the carpet, on the candle wax that dripped off the table, anywhere but the curtain you were behind though he ached for even a silhouetted sliver of your frame. “I just couldn’t sleep.” 

“Maybe you should get a coffee?” You peaked over the bamboo wood, a brow lifting in… playfulness? 

“I think Robin has the lock box in her room. Ask her for it and go get yourself one.” As if draining a victim of their blood wasn’t enough, Eddie’s career consisted of stealing from them too. It always left him feeling a little uneasy, guilty, robbing the deceased. 

“I’m alright. I just need a second to wake up.” Eddie muttered, heel of his palm pressing to his eyes, rubbing so hard he saw stars. 

“Fine, but I better not hear one yawn during the house meeting.” You glared, stepping out from behind the dressing curtain. “You know how that irks me. Zip me.” 

Eddie stood, one hand holding the top together, pulling the zipper slowly up your spine, finger brushing over your spine. Your skin was cold, like ice, a chilling reminder of what you truly were. 

“Last chance.” You turned, swiping your shoes from the floor, discarded from the night before. “Before I go and wake the others.” 

“I’m fine.” Eddie nodded softly, lips curling with the hinting of a smile. “Thank you.” 

Your lips pursed, shifting at the sudden gratitude. He knew you were about to say something mean, put him down to establish your own dominance, you were predictable that way. “Don’t thank me,” You scoffed. “It’s not for you. I don’t want to hear your yawning.” You scoffed, eyes rolling hard towards him, before you were stomping down the creaking wooden planks of the hall. 

The Creel Mansion was still standing strong, despite its abandoned looking exterior. It had been your refuge for years, decades even, since Victor had first brought you there. It was his house before, but now all that remained of him was a portrait at the end of the hall, half covered by a black veil you refused to let Eddie move. 

“Robin!” Your shrill tone made Eddie wince, ears ringing at the pitch. “Nancy!” 

“What?” Robin groaned, her voice muffled with sleep from the door of her coffin, which you pulled open, uncaring of disrupting her slumber. “What- Why?” 

“House meeting. Hurry, before he gets home.” You muttered, turning over your shoulder towards Eddie. “Eddie, go check downstairs. Make sure he didn’t slip in early.” 

Eddie nodded, grabbing a small handheld lantern- a gift from you. He kept burning himself with the candle opera you’d gifted him, and when he wasn’t searing his skin off with the flame, he was turning to quickly and extinguishing all the flames. You told him it was because he’d wake you up with his fumbling in the dark. When you’d included the batteries with the small lantern, Eddie was convinced it was because you were growing a soft spot for him. 

A creaking of a door had Eddie jumping, looking through the flickering flames with his bright plastic lantern. “Uh, hey,” Eddie stepped closer. “Anyone there?” 

The silence was an eerie answer, Eddie swinging the lantern around. It was times like this, he really wished that the electricity still worked, that he could flick a light on, and see what was lurking in the shadows. The dining room appeared empty, a few spider webs and lots of dust, but lack of any danger Eddie could see. 

“Looking for something?” 

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck-” Eddie jumped, nearly dropping his lantern, tripping over his own feet to scatter away from the figure in front of him. 

“Did I scare ya?” Jonathan’s lips curled in a half smile, standing rigidly in the doorway. “You know, they say if you get scared easily, you’re not living right. That’s a saying that’s been repeated and found all throughout history. In Christianity, oddly enough, is where they-” 

“-Alright, Jonathan. I got it.” Eddie lifted a hand, his heart still hammering. He could feel his lids beginning to droop, eyes starting to gloss over the way they always did when Jonathan ‘fed’. A shitty excuse for a vampire, Eddie thought, What the fuck even is a psychic vampire? 

“Oh,” Your face fell, contorting into a grimace when you came down the steps. “Jonathan, you are home early today.” 

“Yes, I decided to come home early today.” Jonathan droned in a painful monotone that had your shoulders tensing. “I didn’t want to miss the house meeting.” 

“Wonderful.” You grimaced, looking at Eddie with an annoyed sneer. He fought back a snicker, turning to the bat down a cobweb that he missed. You could be funny at times, when you wanted. 

“I know you three tried to hide it from me, but you always talk too loud. You forget the walls are thin. Which reminds me, did you know that back in the early nineteen-hundreds when this house was first built, that architects of that time used-” 

“-Yes, Jonathan. Please, shut the fuck up.” Robin groaned, falling into the leather armchair. 

“Jonathan, I really can’t humor you today.” Nancy glared at him lightly. “You know the rules, if you’re going to be in a house meeting with us, you can’t feed off of us.” 

“I know.” Jonathan lifted his hands. “Sorry, I can’t help myself.” He turned to Eddie with a grin. “Guess it’s just you I’ll be feeding from.” 

“Not from my Familiar either, Jonathan.” You snapped, teeth baring in territorial threat. “Eddie is off limits.” Eddie’s chest swelled with pride, chin tipping towards the floor, hoping it would hide his blush. 

“Why are we even having a house meeting?” Robin rolled her eyes, the bags under her eyes especially prominent from lack of slumber. 

“Because,” You hissed, shoulders tight with annoyance. “You three need to get your own familiar.” 

Robin scoffed, Nancy rolling her eyes in agreement. “What?” 

“You three always call for Eddie to do everything, and it distracts him from me.” You jabbed a sharp nail into your chest. “I need him to be attentive to my needs, not yours. Go get your own familiar.” 

“Oh, please-” 

“-We only ask him to do a few things that should already be done-” 

“-I have to agree with Rob and Nance on this one.” Jonathan lifted a finger. 

“Do not call me that.” Nancy hissed, her teeth baring in the dull light of the room. 

“Nan?” Jonathan turned, eyes lighting up though his expression stayed neutral, the way it always did when he was feeding. 

“Ok,” You lifted your hands, stopping the attack Nancy was about to launch. “Find your own familiar. Eddie is my familiar, and is to attend to me exclusively.” 

“I’m sure he does.” Robin muttered, Nancy’s snicker making your ears burn- well, it would, if they still could. Eddie’s cheeks did burn a bright red, shifting at the innuendo. 

Your eyes narrowed, a threatening glare that neither of your roommates seemed phased by, only furthering your irritation. A sharp snap of your fingers, heavy soled steps clicking down the hall, and Eddie was following you.  

“Idiots,” You hissed, flinging the door open. “All of them. I should’ve told them no, that they’d have to find their own nest, but oh no. I had to feel fucking generous and kind that day.” 

Eddie stood in your doorway, hands rubbing down the material of his jeans, unsure of what to say, what to do. His eyes on you, waiting for your next command, for you to tell him what you were wanting, what you were thinking. 

“Are you just going to stand there?” You huffed, a lashing tone that had Eddie jumping. 

“No, wha-what do you need me to do?” Eddie stammered, uneasy with the glare you were giving him, so menacing. He knew better, or at least he thought he did, that you wouldn’t hurt him. You’d chosen him to be your Familiar for a reason… right?

“I don’t know, something?” You scoffed, eyes rolling back over his frame. “Maybe start with changing your clothes. We’re going out tonight and I’m not being seen with you in that.” 

Eddie’s lips pursed, jaw grinding tight. He’d blame the lack of sleep on his agitation. “What do you want me to wear then, Mistress?” Eddie’s tone was bitter, toying on the edge of annoyance. 

“Who are you speaking to-” 

“-You.” Eddie snapped, shocking both of you. There was a pause, realization washing over the two of you. “I just- I like what I have on, ok?” Eddie’s tone was softer, looking down at his ripped jeans and holey band tee. “It’s what people from this century wear.” 

Your lips rolled, flattening into a furious line. For a moment, Eddie thought you might pounce- fully preparing himself for the hiss, the baring of teeth, to feel his throat being ripped from his neck. Instead, you simply huffed, turning on your foot. 

“Fine.” A quipping, positively moody huff of a reply came. In that moment, you sounded petulant, human. 

“If you insist on wearing mauled clothing, then so be it.” You shrugged, a snarl still pulling on the edge of your lips. 

“Thank you.” Eddie nodded, swallowing down the tremble in his throat. “And, uh, thank you for before, too.” You turned, brow lifted in intrigue. “For- During the meeting.” 

“I didn’t do that for you.” Your reply was quick, teetering on defensive. “I did that for myself. I can’t wait for you because they’re too lazy to go out and compel their own Familiar.” 

“Right.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He gave up, ready to throw the towel in. Clearly, you were set on your mood and there would be no changing it. No swaying it with charming kindness today. 

“I’m going to go.” Eddie stepped towards the door. “I’ll go dust or something. Just let me know when you’re ready to go-” 

“-No.” Your voice echoed through the halls, bouncing off the walls, a sense of urgency that had Eddie freezing. 

You wrung your hands in front of you, anxiously. “No, just- stay in here.” 

Eddie frowned. “You just told me to go do something.” 

“I know,” You huffed. “But, just stay in here with me. Robin and Nancy won’t be ready for hours, and… and if you go down there Jonathan will try to feed and drain you, and-” 

Eddie recognized the ramble in your tone, a sliver of humanity breaking through the cracks of your cold, monstrous exterior. It was rare, you to turn soft like this- needy, but Eddie knew why you did it. He knew what you wanted. 

“Fine.” Eddie nodded, stepping into your bedroom, shutting the door carefully so the candles didn’t blow out. 

A lingering pause fell between the two of you, thick with an uncomfortable but familiar tension. Routine but an oddity all the same. 

“What do you want me to do in here, hm?” Eddie’s voice dropped, slow steps across the hardwood towards you. “Just sit here and stare at you.” 

“No,” Your chest tightened. It had been years since your heart had beat, but you swore Eddie could make it skip. “Surely, there’s something better that we could do to pass the time.” You declared, voice a little shaky with desperation to regain your control. 

“Yeah? What do you have in mind?” Eddie’s lips curled in a smirk, his face near inches from yours. “I’m at your service, Mistress.” 

Your body tingled with heat, the only warmth you craved, the only warmth you needed. You were shocked, when you first transitioned to your undead state, that this feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger. 

“I think you know what I have in mind.” You glared at him, half heartedly. “Don’t make me beg, or I’ll make you beg later.” 

“I would never, Mistress.” Your thighs twitched, Eddie’s hands sliding over the lacy material of your dress, the swell of your hips. “I’m your faithful servant. You just tell me what you want- whatever you need.” 

“Hm,” You breathed slowly, your body closing in with him, chest to chest. Your nails raked over the etched skin of his forearms, dragging a sharp nail up his neck, to his jaw. Eddie shuddered, fingers sinking into your waist 

Your lip grazed over his, mouth parting just barely, your fangs hovering over his bottom lip teasingly. Eddie swallowed back a moan that you didn’t miss. Your eyes met his, darker now- nearly black, the way they always darkened when you got like this. Aroused and needy, entirely hungry for something. 

“You’ve got to be quiet this time.” You gave him a pointed look. “They heard last time. They’re starting to catch on.” 

“Sorry.” Eddie swallowed, nose brushing over yours. He wanted to press his hand to the back of your head, kiss you with an urgency, but he knew better. That wasn’t how you liked it. Oh no, you liked the anticipation, the adrenaline filled excitement that came with teasing. 

“Who cares if they know anyways?” Eddie muttered brainlessly, eyes glossing when they met yours. “What’s so wrong with it?” 

“It’s unnatural.” You whispered. “Complicated.” 

“What’s so complicated about it?” Eddie scoffed lightly, hand sliding up your spine, towards your zipper. “You’re turning me into a vampire anyways, right? Why’s it matter?” 

You hesitated, breath hitching and ghosting over his lip, chilling him. “It’s just- it makes things difficult now.” You stammered, fingers sliding through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about that now.” Your thumbs pressed lightly to his temples, his eyes meeting yours. 

“For now,” You purred, lips curling in a small grin. “I think you should thank me again, but this time,” Your nose brushed over his. “By letting me sit on your face. That seems fair, right? You thank me, I keep you quiet- a win-win.” 

Eddie blushed, lips spreading in a wide grin. “Yes, Mistress.”

[dearharriet]

I Want Your Video; Steve Harrington x Reader 📼

summary: steve always takes care of you on a night out.

word count: 1.4K

warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, fem!reader, fluff

a/n: inspired by a djo song with the same title. i’m such a sucker for steve <3

“I ‘ave to go t’the bathrooom,” you tell Steve, holding tight to the hot skin of his bicep. In a drunken stupor, your thumb swipes sweetly over it once, unable to resist.

His other arm, the one you’re not holding to, has your clutch tucked under it. It’s unclear if he’s being gentlemanly or if he’s monitoring your intake. He certainly didn’t take Nancy’s or Robin’s. Or Argyle’s belly bag.

“‘Kay, be safe,” Steve says, patting your elbow. He looks a touch hot, red-cheeked and a little damp around the edges. Dancing must’ve made a mess of you if he looks so disheveled from just standing and talking. You furrow your brows.

“Come with me?” Pouting, your grip slides down to take his hand, but he pulls away.

“Uh—maybe Nance or Rob should do that.”

He says it like such a request is verboten. You look back towards Nance and Robin, relentlessly moving on the dance floor.

“They won’t go with meeee—“ you whine, and then simper when he sighs in defeat.

Steve steers you toward the stairwell that leads down to the toilets. While you weave through the crowds, he stays behind you, a steadying force at your back.

The stairwell is much cooler than the bar. It’s a relief to suck in air that’s not muggy with sweat and beer. At the bottom of the dingey stairs a couple is draped over one another talking closely, and nearer to the bathroom there’s a trio of people sharing a smoke and waiting. Steve and you take up residence just next to them. The concrete wall is cooling on your hot back and it elicits a sigh.

“Having fun?” Steve asks, facing you with his arms crossed and a shoulder leant on the wall. Your clutch is shoved in his front pocket like a miniature Bible.

“Uh-huh.” You nod with exaggerated windedness. “Wish you’d dance with me, though.”

The bathroom door clicks open and a guy comes out, nodding awkwardly at all seven heads turned his way. The queue dwindles to three again—plus Steve, who is smiling at you apologetically.

“Nah, you wouldn’t wanna see me dance. I tend to intimidate people with how skilled I am.”

A laugh bubbles out of you. “Ohhh, right,” you nod. “Must be hard, having all that talent. And you’re s’busy keepin’ me sober.” You speak so fast the words slur on the way out, and Steve chuckles teasingly.

“I’m doin’ a shit job, aren’t I? You’re in a state already.” He reaches out and brushes your arm when he says this, his knuckles leaving goosebumps behind them. When he pulls his hand back he’s grown more sincere. “Who said I’m keeping you sober? I’ve let you drink all you want.”

“You let me,” you tease, “But you’re keeping my wallet. And you’ve been watching me all night.”

“Yeah, well.” He looks defensive. “Someone’s gotta have your back.”

The bathroom door opens again, and the line shrinks even more. You pick the conversation right back up.

“What ‘bout Nance and Rob? And the guys?” Turning toward Steve, your arms cross so you’re mirroring him. “They’ve all got their wallets.”

“They’ve got each other, too.” Steve playfully swings at your shoulder, and you take the hit willingly. “Who’s got you, huh, rockstar?”

A smile splits your face with glee at the nickname. You step closer and you’re about to answer—you, you’ve got me—when Steve clears his throat.

You frown, and Steve smiles, juts his chin toward the bathroom door. It’s empty, you realize, and Steve and you are alone. It seems the third member of the bathroom trio was only company, like Steve.

“You know what to do,” Steve mutters, and you reluctantly peel away from the wall.

“Oh, wait!” You whip around and offer a hand out for your wallet. Steve gives it over wordlessly, and then you’re locking the door behind you.

As suspected, you look a mess. Your hair is frizzed and a touch tangled. Dark mauve eyeliner has smoked itself out—all over your undereye—and your cheeks are red and dampened with sweat.

Despite it all, you feel good. You brought your clutch so you could touch up your lipstick, and you do, but you don’t need to. It’s almost like what Steve said; You’re a rockstar. You look like one, anyway.

After washing your hands, the only thing you do to your appearance is fluff your hair up even more, playing up this smudged version of your original look.

It feels impossibly easy to grin at Steve once you emerge from the bathroom. Steve laughs.

“Why do I feel like you got more drunk while you were in there?”

You tighten your smile primly. “Not drunker, just better looking.”

Steve pulls his brows together almost painfully, his features unreadable. You saunter over to him anyways, stepping into his bubble. His full back is pressed to the wall now, a leg kicked up, and you’re as close as you can get without being thigh-to-knee. Steve’s nervous eyes scan you.

“Want me to take that?” Steve points to your clutch. You nod, but ignore the hand he has waiting for you. Feeling bold, you reach around him and tuck it into his back pocket. Your chests meet, and then crush closer as you both gasp. Pulling away feels suddenly impossible, so you don't, and Steve doesn’t make you. He licks his lips.

“Y’didn’t lock the door,” he mumbles, but your brain jumbles as his hand smooths over your ribs.

“Hmm?” You can’t be bothered with words, feeling more intoxicated by his touch than the three drinks in your system.

Steve rubs a small circle over your side. “The bathroom door,” he says softly, “it stayed on vacant the whole time.”

Oh, yeah. It had. Your mouth pops open, and then you shoot him a wry grin.

“Whoops.”

Steve’s responding head shake is exasperated but fond.

“You trust me too much,” he sighs.

It’s not a joke. A string of insecurity holds the sentence together, and you know what it is. It’s easy to see that he knows, too. Moving closer, committing to the embrace you’ve found yourself in, you pin Steve with a sincere stare.

“Do I?” It’s excessively rhetorical, stilling any rebuttal he has. Steve purses his lips together, and then glances at yours. You toe up ever so slightly, in anticipation. Both of Steve’s hands are on you now, though they’re holding your arms, keeping you at bay.

“We can’t,” Steve whispers, glancing at the stairwell, and you realize the bar is still upstairs with all of your friends. They’d probably come looking soon, vying for another round, another dance. You look to the stairwell too, and then to the other side of the hall, and back to Steve.

“Yet here we are.” The murmur is sultry, luring Steve closer, tempting his hand to wind into the soft hair at the nape of your neck.

“Here we are,” Steve repeats, and then your lips are abruptly too occupied by his to respond.

Steve’s hand that’s not gripping your neck winds over your shoulders, keeping you close. His nose crushes to your cheek as he drags his mouth over yours again and again.

A part of you—the same part that’s observing how good of a kisser he is—can’t believe you’re mouth to mouth with the Steve Harrington from high school. The other half, probably the truer half, knows it’s been a long time coming. Years of patching up and skirting around each other, protecting each other because you had to, and now taking care of each other because you wanted to. Because no one else would.

When you separate, you’re both breathless and effervescent. Steve is staring at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re so beautiful,” he coos, his thumb caressing the rosy apple of your cheek. Steve has a way of marrying sincerity and charm, and it needles at your heart ruthlessly.

You beam and kiss him again as a thank you.

“Think you might be glowing,” he continues, speaking right into your mouth. His teeth clack against yours as the kiss grows too smiley for its own good.

“You look pretty, too,” you goad, tracing his lips. “Cherry’s a good look on you.”

Steve pinches his brow and then notices your smeared lipstick.

“Aw, come on.”

You laugh and help him wipe it off, but when you return to the bar later, Argyle still complements Steve’s beautiful makeup.

+

thank you for reading ! my requests are open :)

masterlist

[formosusiniquis]

When Mike Wheeler, red faced and still faintly tear stained, asks him how he knew he liked both Steve doesn’t know how to tell him it was his sister.

Before Nancy Wheeler it had only been boys. Before Nancy Wheeler Steve had been sure he was gay and knew well enough to keep it to himself; dating around enough to earn himself a protective reputation. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Marcus Summers, from the baseball team, during freshman year. Steve had gone to every game, and had been forced to make up excuses about schoolwork and his other commitments when asked why he hadn’t tried out for himself. Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been Tommy Hagan. The summer between seventh and eighth grade had been very kind to Tommy, he was sunkissed and boy next door sweet, Steve had wanted to hold his hand and count the freckles across the bridge of his nose. 

Before Nancy Wheeler there’d been his first love, a boy who only visited one summer, the year Steve turned ten. His name had changed every time they hung out but he’d favored E’s. Eli, Emmett, Elliott, Eric, Excalibur, Excelsior, and once for about an hour Wayne. His hair brushed his chin in pretty brown curls and his big brown eyes were always bright with excitement. He always got storm off mad when any of the other boys they’d played with that summer said he was acting like a girl, E would run off to the woods and Steve would always follow. E always came up with the best games anyway, he didn’t like playing soccer or HORSE or anything else with rules that couldn’t be bent; he preferred imagination games where they were knights or wizards. He didn’t laugh when Steve said he always liked playing house, but never wanted to be the dad because why would he want to be someone who never wanted to spend any time with his kids. E who, while insisting on being called Samwise all day, was his first kiss.

Cause he knows what Mike wants to hear. He’s seen the way Mike and Will have danced around each other since the last portal closed. He’s heard the things Mike has said to and about Will. He’s heard all about the week that Will was in the Upside Down. He’s heard all about the summer of ‘85. He’s heard all about the final off again that seems to officially mark the end of Mike and El romantically. He knows that Mike wants him to say that he’d never even thought about boys before he met Eddie. That there’s just something special about Eddie that makes him want to give up his lady killing ways. That Eddie was different. That it was okay that he was having these scary new thoughts, maybe Will was just an exception.

And Steve doesn’t know how to have that conversation. When he realized he liked both it was a relief, that maybe he could have something normal and wouldn't have to spend his life lying or hiding. 

But Eddie was different. Eddie was special. Eddie was probably it for Steve which is scary in a different way that he’s not ready to touch yet -- not when it’s only been three months.

There’s never been another girl since Nancy Wheeler, not really

There will never be another boy after Eddie Munson.

So he tries to help, as best he can. It’s easier with Eddie there, not quite dozing against his shoulder -- the kid’s emergencies always seem to come so late at night these days. “When I was ten, there was a boy whose name kept changing who decided prince charming should get to kiss his faithful knight. And when I was sixteen, your sister-”

Mike’s goodwill diminishes quickly as his sister gets introduced to the conversation.

“Stevie,” Eddie says. It’s not an admonishment for bringing up Nancy. It’s awestruck and watery. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember the first boy I ever loved," that word catches up with him a second later. Remember. 

Cause there's Eddie with his riot of brown curls and his Bambi eyes. Eddie, who has explained why soft feminine words chafe against his skin leaving him itchy and anxious. Eddie, who has an Uncle in Hawkins. Eddie who moved to town the summer before he entered high school with a buzzed head and his mother's last name. Eddie who finally settled into an E he liked best.

"Wheeler, here's a tip from me to you," Eddie says, his advice is always better received than Steve's anyway, "if you have to ask you probably already know."

"Straight people don't really spend much time wondering if they aren't really straight," Steve agrees.

They don't rush Mike out the door, a crisis is a crisis and even in the wake of new discoveries Mike deserves to be heard out. Deserves a chance to cry and rage and feel those emotions someplace safe from his Reaganite father -- just as much as Will deserves to have someone who knows what they want come to him, deserves better than experimentation.

They cross the bridge from late into early by the time Mike sets off. The sun is creeping up over the horizon and Mike looks solid, certain; the dawn hints at the man he is growing up to be. Though every instinct of Steve's begs him to drive the kid home, Eddie's soft hand lingering at his hip holds him fast. They wave instead, encouraging Mike to go home and to bed before he does anything; knowing his front bike tire is already pointed toward the Byers-Hopper place.

"The first boy you ever loved, huh, Stevie?" Eddie teases before the door has even managed to click shut.

"And the last, I'm hoping, if I play my cards right."

"You were always pretty good at that. You were the only person that summer who called me by my name, except Wayne."

"It was your name." He knows that's too simple. Knows how hard Eddie has had it, continues to have it. But that summer it had been that simple, Eddie trying on names like shirts each one fitting until they didn't. "For what it's worth, I like Eddie a lot more than Excalibur."

"Oh fuck off, I was going through a fantasy knight phase. Which I know you remember."

"Right a phase, and how much longer is this fantasy 'phase' going to last?"

They're the kind of tired that makes you feel drunk, when Eddie tackles Steve and sends them both to the floor and to giggles. Eddie might not have been his bi awakening, but Steve is pretty fine with him being his everything else.