#spooky steve harrington

[italiansteebie]

something you'd never expect about steve harrington is that he loves halloween.

i mean, he really gets into it.

he dresses up, decorates the house, hands out candy and even goes trick or treating with the kids as an excuse. "i'm keeping an eye on you guys!"

"you didn't have to dress up though,"

"yes i did, dustin. you don't know everything."

even after the upside down bullshit, he still loves it, and maybe he kept his scoops uniform with blood and barf stains so he could use it as a costume. and maybe that was kind of fucked, but he's coping with it.

now, steve's love for halloween is one of robins favorite things about him. especially since his house is equipped for an exceptional party, what with the size and the decorations steve is going to put up anyways? it's perfect.

so the halloween after scoops, they throw a masquerade of sorts. it's quite a rager, despite steve's expectations.

he decided to go as a masked cowboy.

he got the boots, the hat, and he wore a leather vest that ended up giving him a chill for the night since other than some chaps, it was all he was wearing on his body. he did the whole nine yards with a red bandana and some sunglasses.

"hey cowboy."

steve turned, taking in the sight in-front of him.

a guy, with long curly hair, somehow making a jason voorhees costume work.

he tipped his hat, always committed to the bit, "jason." he said simply, thanking the bandana gods for hiding his blush.

"never woulda thought king steve would throw a party like this."

"why not?"

"i dunno. it's cool though, guy seems to have changed."

"for the better?"

jason tilted his head, "yeah man. for the better." he said it as though the decision had been made, and locked in place.

so they sat.

and talked.

all night.

and the rest of the party seemed to fade away. that is until a drunk robin, dressed as micheal myers laid across his lap, "kick everyone out, im tired."

he checked his watch, it was 4 am, probably about time for them to go home. so he stood, gearing up to say his farewell to jason, maybe ask him for his number, but when he turned again, he was gone. only the smell of weed and cheap cologne remained. (and later, he'd find, a lone 36 sided die, that he'd end up asking dustin about).

it's silly to think that steve was falling in love with this guy after only just meeting him, but he'd grappled with his sexuality on a bathroom floor, appropriately, and was ready to dive back into the dating pool. or maybe the puddle, because halloween jason, seemed to be the one.

the only thing is, steve has no idea who the guy is.

that is at least until, none other than eddie munson had a broke bottle pressed against his neck. now he didn't figure it out in that moment, but when they were fleeing for their lives, eddie's hand found a way into steve's, and back at eddie's trailer, steve caught a glimpse of none other than the jason voorhees mask he'd been searching for ever since that party.

and maybe it was a sappy declaration of love, but steve was nothing if not a hopeless romantic.

"don't be heroes."

it was pleading.

steve tossed the dice eddie's way, watching fondly as he struggled to catch it.

"steve- wh?" he could see the moment it clicked in eddie's eyes. steve turned, ready to finish this mess, so he could talk to eddie, to jason, and figure out some shit.

"hey, steve?"

he turned, meeting eddie's eyes.

"make him pay, cowboy."

--

it was done.

they did it.

a few were in the hospital but, hey. they did it. eddie had been in a rough way for a little while, eventually pulling through but not before some physical therapy.

steve was there when he woke up.

had been ever since he'd explained to eddie's uncle wayne how they knew each other and what eddie meant to steve.

eddie cracked open his eyes.

"howdy, cowboy." it came out scratched, and rough.

"eddie," steve breathed, grasping his hand.

"i knew i liked those chaps."

steve rolled his eyes, smiling while tears rolled down his cheeks. "you saved my life." eddie said, reaching a hand to steve's cheek. steve shook his head, "how can i ever repay you?" eddie said, a glint in his eye.

steve laughed, "no thanks necessary," he said, tipping his imaginary hat, leaning into eddie's touch. "there must be someway," he said, southern drawl creeping into his voice. "how about a kiss?" steve asked, eyes flickering down to the metal heads lips.

wayne shook his head at the boys' antics. "will y'all just kiss already? im getting old waitin' for ya!"

eddie laughed at his uncle's testimony, before nodding, "c'mere, cowboy," he said, before closing the gap between him and steve.

"was it rootin' n tootin'?" eddie asked, a cheesy grin on his face as he pulled away. "sure was, partner."

"oh my god."

"hey robs,"

"steve, shut up. eddie's jason! jason from-" robin stumbled into the room. "from the party!" she all but squealed. steve laughed, nodding, "yeah, babe. we figured that one out ourselves."

[travelingtwentysomething]

Prompt: “Pick a god and pray” they said, and you did, praying to every god you knew. And as you did this a name popped into your mind, one you didn’t recognize, yet you prayed to them all the same. In response the air stood still, like even the world had forgotten their name.

Devotion Tastes So Sweet On Your Lips (AO3)

It was another one of those nights- Steve was running through the dark trees, waking nightmare chasing him down.

He prayed his footing stayed true. He prayed that his breaths didn't falter. He prayed that the hungry darkness falling fast in his shadow didn't catch him.

He prayed to all the gods. Every deity he had ever learned of, all the new gods, and the old. He prayed until the sweat burning his eyes blinded him and he felt a root leap up in front of his foot.

He stumbled but did not fall.

But the sound of a snapping maw was closing around the dust he kicked up.

Suddenly, in his desperation, a name floated from the depths of his erratic heart to the tip of his bitten tongue.

"Eddie the Banished, of the Fallen Forest— Please- Please," Steve huffed, a force behind the name punched through his diaphragm and left him no air to plead with.

No sooner had the name fallen from Steve's lips, than the ground fell away beneath him- an embankment, steep and unforgiving in its angle. He rolled past tree trunks, slid over rough roots, and scraped jagged rocks loose for gravity to bring along for the ride.

His body hit the bottom and bounced.

Steve was dazed, his ears felt muffled as if he had landed underwater. He sat up so fast his vision swam, leaving trails of light where the stars shone down on him under the glare of the full moon.

He tried to stand, but his stomach protested- knees, shaken and unsteady, refused to hold his weight. He fell, once again on his back, trying to catch his bearings.

When his head cleared enough that the moon ceased it's dance in the sky above him, Steve sat up slowly, taking stock of his surroundings. He strained his ears to hear the snap of twigs or the slide of rocks down the slope he had just ridden as his pursuer followed him into the gorge.

It was silent as a ghost.

Steve pressed his palms to his ears and felt no blood, squeezing to try and pressure shock them into working.

He listened again—

Not even a whisper of wind in the trees.

Steve picked up a twig from the soft bed of moss that had saved his limbs from the worst of the abrupt impact and snapped it between his fingers- the sound sharp enough to startle him.

His ears worked just fine, it seemed- it was the forest that was broken.

As Steve got one knee under him, prepared to make another attempt to stand- a shadow fell over him.

Steve kept his head lowered, subdued under the charge in the air- the unmistakable aura of predator.

He slowly raised his eyes, and only his eyes.

There, standing tall above him, was a Wild God.

"It has been... So long-" The voice was grinding stones carried on the wind, "I'd forgotten what it sounded like." The Wild God lowered his body into a facsimile of a bow. A hand that shadows cling to like smoke, finger tips black as the night and ephemeral, ghosted under his chin, raising Steve's eyes to meet the darkness shining in the Wild God's own. "My name on some desperate tongue."

Steve was struck with a lightning heat deep inside his belly that rose like a plume of ashes from the mouth of a volcano, his face burning under the gaze of the most beautiful and terrifying wonder he had ever witnessed.

"Say it again." The Wild God demanded, voice deep enough to shake the ground Steve knelt on.

"Eddie the Banished, of the Fallen Forest." Steve moaned, unabashed.

Eddie's eyes rolled and the whites flickered behind shivering lashes as he savored the taste of devotion.

[steddie-spooktober]

welcome to steddie spooktober, a month-long writing event for the month of october!

there’s some spooks, some scares, some simple fall days.. all for the love of steddie and everyone’s favorite season 💜

there will be no min/max word count, and no set rating limit just please be sure to include the rating and prompt(s) at the start of your post, and tag @steddie-spooktober so it can be added to the queue!

same applies to any artists that would like to participate! just tag us and include the prompt(s) you chose!

a '🎃' will be commented in the replies of your post so you know it's been added to the queue

PROMPTS!

1st - rain 2nd - woods 3rd - apples 4th - corn maze 5th - "Did you hear that?" 6th - haunted 7th - skeleton 8th - bonfire 9th - werewolf 10th - orchard 11th - "That's the dumbest looking jack-o-lantern I've ever seen." 12th - graveyard 13th - superstition 14th - bats 15th - baking 16th - "Would you please stop trying to scare them?" 17th - hayride 18th - candy 19th - zombie 20th - cryptid 21st - "It's warm in here..." 22nd - leaves 23rd - witch 24th - pumpkin 25th - Frankenstein Friday 26th - blood 27th - scary movies 28th - mask (suggested by @bifuriouswaterbender) 29th - sweater (suggested by @tea42) 30th - "Where in the hell did you find that costume??" 31st - trick-or-treat

please feel free to interpret these however you’d like; thank you thank you to all of you who sent prompts, i was super glad to see a good handful of the ones i’d already jotted down get suggested ☺️☺️

you can send asks/messages with questions here, or to my main blog @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe!

finally, most importantly,

HAVE FUN!

[xgumiho]

And you might be the answer to the sinner in me 🩸🕯🥀

© xgumiho | do not repost/steal/edit/crop

[oneforthemunny]

spooky series entry: modern!eddie munson

based off the first part of this ask from @belokhvostikova! part of my spooky series with modern!eddie :) enjoy! eddie edit creds @themunsonator5000 !

contains: 18+ minors dni, alludes to smut, really just fluff. reader and eddie do a couple's costume.

“God, I think I’m gonna pass out in here, babe.” Eddie coughed over the hiss of the aerosol can spraying in the bathroom, the vent on and a window open doing little to insulate the fumes. 

“I told you to do it outside.” You huff, eyes rolling in irritation. Eddie had taken over the bathroom, leaving you to the bedroom. 

“It’s fuckin’ freezing out there.” Eddie scoffed, a rather hard hack of a cough following that had you looking towards the cracked door. “And I needed to see.” 

“Could’ve taken a mirror.” You muttered, dragging your eyeliner along your waterline, the perfect sultry and smokey look- just what you were going for. Eddie was going to love it, he always did when you’d make your makeup a little darker, a little moody. 

“I can’t hold a mirror, and my hair, and the spray.” Eddie rolled his eyes like the idea was so silly. Like fumigating the apartment was the obvious best choice. 

“I still need help getting it to spike.” Eddie turned his head towards the ajar door across from him. You were hidden behind the half opened door, depriving him of seeing you- your process, your costume, the deep purple cape he was a little too excited about. 

“Use the hairspray.” You call, and he can practically hear the eye roll in your tone. 

“I did.” Eddie grit, running the brush through his matted half green curls. “Still not working. Got a lot of hair, babe.”

“Yeah,” You snorted, the jingle of your belt and necklace sounding with every step. “I know. It’s everywhere.” 

Eddie smirked, a smug counter on the tip of his tongue that fell short when he saw you. A black high cut bodysuit, fishnet stockings he just wanted to tear apart, and best of all- the cloak. The fucking cloak, velvety that you‘d gotten off Facebook marketpace in September when he told you his vision for your costumes. 

“What?” You eye him, clipping the loose, link belt around your waist so it settled slouchy over your hips. Eddie had helped you make it, a rigged up welding job to get the large, plastic rubies on and in the right place. 

“Nothing.” Eddie’s eyes roamed up and down your frame, taking in every single detail like if he looked away it would be gone. “You, uh, you look very good.” 

“Very?” You repeated, a raised brow that had his head bobbing, blush rising up his skin. “Really? The cloak is doin’ it for you, hm?” 

“Oh, you have no fuckin’ idea.” Eddie groaned, stepping towards you. “Think this might be my new thing. My new kink.” 

“Capes?” 

“You in capes.” Eddie nodded, reaching out to touch the soft velvet. 

“Uh! No!” You clicked, stepping back. “Your hands are green.” 

“So?”

“So you’re not touching my stuff and ruining it, Ed. Wash your hands!” You point to the sink, crowded with hair products, stray hairs, and faint green spray. You frown, glaring at him. “I told you not to make a mess.” 

“I’ll clean it up.” Eddie hums, eyes meeting yours through the mirror, shoving the content out of the sink and hitting the faucet on. 

You roll your eyes. You know he will, really. “Do you want me to grab the gel? See if I can blow it up like Pauly D?” Your lips curl in a half smirk. 

“No.” Eddie shakes his head, the water stained green from his hands. 

“I can try, baby, but I don’t know if it will work. You’ve got a lot of hair. I don’t think it will stand that tall. Maybe the bangs-” 

“-No, it’s fine.” Eddie muttered, wiping his hands on the hand towel, for once. You guessed he didn’t want to ruin his costume. 

“Ed, I can do it for you.” Your voice drops lightly into a softer tone. Maybe you’d been too mean. You didn’t mean to snap like that at him. Was it that mean? “I can try if you want me to. I just… I don’t know how it will turn out.” 

“No, it’s good. I’ll put it on a bun.” Eddie turned to you, taking in your slight frown. 

“Are you ok?” You ask awkwardly. It sounded better in your head, when Ed said it. 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m good.” Eddie nodded, brushing his hair back, tying it off with a hair tie- your hair tie. 

“Eddie, I didn’t mean to piss you off. I just don’t want green shit everywhere, it will stain.” Your arms found their way back over your chest, defensive and annoyed. 

“No, I know. I’ll clean it.” Eddie swallowed, eyes cutting to you in the mirror, spraying his bangs down one more time for a final touch. 

You huff in annoyance. “So you’re mad at me for what then?” You snap, glaring at him. 

Oh, that smokey eyed glare, the black lipstick, the fishnets, the metallic boots, the goddam cloak. Eddie wasn’t lasting, not when you used that tone, that mean tone- huffy and annoyed, snapping at him. Eddie’s fingers curled around the counter. 

“Mad? I’m not mad.” Eddie shook his head, eyes zoned in on the ruby necklace settled between your collarbones. His knees tightened.

“Then what?” You snap, that snip of a tone that had Eddie’s ears tingling with excitement. “Why are you being weird, right now?” 

“Can you do me a favor?” Eddie asked, brown eyes rounded too sweetly for it to be a mean request. 

It made you falter, your annoyed demeanor faltering for a second. “What?” 

“Can you,” Eddie shoved the bottles of hair spray and brushes back in the sink. “Can you sit right there for me? Just for a second.” 

You glared at him, annoyed and a little confused. “Eddie, what? Can you be serious for a second, just one fucking second, and tell me what is wrong-” 

“Nothing’s wrong, baby, I promise.” Eddie schmoozed, that little coo that had your head spinning. He grabbed at your fishnet clad thighs, pressing them until you were settled on the edge of the bathroom counter with a huff. “Just sit right here for me. Just like that, baby.” 

“Eddie, you need to finish getting ready, seriously. We’re going to be- what are you doing?” Your voice shrills, pushing at his sticky, green stained hair when Eddie drops to his knees. 

“I told you this was doin’ it for me.” Eddie hummed, green stained fingers pulling at your thighs, hips on the edge of the counter, his fingers hooking around the tiny strip of your body suit, pulling it to the side easily. 

“Eddie!” You gasped, his fingers running through your folds. “Eddie, we’re- oh shit- we’re gonna be late!” 

“Harrington won’t notice.” Eddie hummed, a cheek pressed to your fishnets. “It won’t even get fun until after ten, promise.” 

An hour and half later, you arrived at the Harrington house, spilling out with party goers in a multitude of costumes, some pulling Eddie to the side to buy. 

“Well, well, well,” Steve smirked around his plastic cup. “Look who finally showed up.” 

You scoffed, looking at the basketball jersey he’d put on, his “costume”. “And what are you supposed to be? Troy Bolton?” 

“Somethin’ like that.” Steve grinned. “Are you a witch?” 

“No, dingus.” Robin rolled her eyes. “She’s obviously Raven.” 

“Raven?”

“From Teen Titans. God, you really didn’t have a good childhood, hm? Were you a PBS kid?” Robin rolled her eyes. 

“Bet you weren’t allowed to watch Spongebob, either.” You grinned. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “My bad. I’m assuming Eddie and his green hair is your counterpart?” 

“He’s Beast Boy.” Robin smiled at Eddie, waving him over. “That’s so cute. Your idea?” 

“Please.” You scoffed lightly. “Eddie’s. He loves Halloween. He’s been planning this for weeks.” You grin, taking the plastic cup he offered you. 

“Hm,” Steve’s tongue rolled over the inside of his cheek, looking at you then Eddie. “Guess I see why the two of you were late.” 

You frowned at Steve, his grin only growing bigger. “Beast Boy, you’re not a natural green-head, hm?” He snickered, Robin’s face falling in a laugh.

You looked down, through your fishnets and saw it- the green residue left between your thighs, no doubt from your thighs closing around his head. You flushed, eyes cutting to Eddie’s dangerously. 

Eddie bit back a smirk, shrugging gently. “It’s Halloween.” He said simply over Robin and Steve’s howls of laughter. 

[imfinereallyy]

There is a man in the woods behind Steve’s building.

At least, he thinks it’s a man.

He’s been there every night for the past two weeks. Watching and waiting. Only an outline, a shadow somehow in the dark night. Steve hoped rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and sliding on his glasses will help puzzle together the features of a man, but it’s a lost cause. He hopes blinking a few times, will make the nightmare fade away. It doesn’t.

There is a man in the woods, and each night Steve thinks he gets closer.

Tonight, the light from the street lamps that illuminate the sides of the building sprinkle around back, dips of soft light touching the tips of leaves, and the pale skin of a hand.

Steve thinks about going downstairs, knocking on his friendly neighbor’s door. Robin, he thinks her name is. He wonders if she’s seen the man in the woods. Maybe she will know what to do.

Steve sees the man’s hand twitch.

No, he won’t get Robin. It’s not that Steve doesn’t think she won’t believe him. He has a strange feeling she would believe him in an instant. No—Steve doesn’t want to risk dragging her into whatever mess awaits him. If she hasn’t seen, maybe it’s for the better.

Because there is a man in the woods, and he is the closest he’s ever been.

And Steve knows, as he sees the glimmer of a perfect white teeth, that the man brings nothing but pain.

There is a man in the woods behind Steve’s apartment. So he shuts the blinds, and goes to sleep.

Steve doesn’t know if it hopes he won’t return, or he’ll finally come through his unlocked window.

[bloodibambiidoll]

Living Dead Girl

(Steve Harrington x Early 00s Goth!FemReader)

Spooky collab with my baby @reidsbtch here is her part Dripping With Sin🎃🖤🦇

Summary: You just moved back to Hawkins and your bestfriend is having a Halloween party, you’re excited to meet all of her friends, but especially excited to meet one in particular. Wk: 5K (divider used is by @firefly-graphics)

Warnings: Reader is dressed as a catholic school girl, Spanking(with a belt), choking (he also chokes her with her rosary at one point oops.) unprotected sex, outside sex (but it’s secluded), use of “sir”, mentions of alcohol, Oral (m receiving), also just some cutie cheesy fluff. 18+MINDI!!

You smiled at yourself in the mirror as you put the finishing touches on your costume. You spent hours altering your old school uniform and it turned out perfect. The skirt that used to go almost to your knees now barely covered your ass, the white button up top that used to fit a bit loose was now snug against you and tied in the middle to reveal your midriff and the top of your red push-up bra.

You finished off the look with some black thigh highs, the old rosary you had tucked away with your uniform stacked with your signature choker and platform boots.

You were both nervous and excited for tonight. You had just moved back to Hawkins a few weeks ago to be closer to your lifelong bestfriend, Iris. Even though your parents forced you to move states and go to an all girls catholic school when you were 13 your friendship never wavered. You spent hours chatting on the phone, sending each other countless IMs through AOL, and even going as far as to write each other letters if one of you was grounded.

It’s something you had been considering for a while, holding out hope that your college life would get better over time but friends came and went and so did guys. The only constant in your life being Iris from thousands of miles away. She had been suggesting it for about a year now, telling you how amazing her boyfriend and all her friends were and how much they’d love you. So after you had a falling out with the closest friend you had back home you finally decided to pull the trigger.

You’ve been back a few weeks now and while you’ve of course seen Iris several times you hadn’t had time to meet her friends or even her boyfriend Eddie yet. She’s told you a lot about all them but the one that you’ve been most excited to meet was Steve. She’s been talking him up to you since before you even moved, and you were hoping he would be just as good as she made him sound.

When you arrived at Iris’ house the party was already in full swing, you weaved through the crowd in search of your bestfriend. Your eyes finally land on her in the kitchen, filling orange and black plastic cups with the punch you were sure had a generous amount of alcohol in it.

“Pookie!!”

Her head shot up at the sound of your voice and a huge smile spread across her lips.

“Pumpkin! Oh my god! You look so sexy!”

You prance over to her and wrap your arms around her like you hadn’t seen her in ages even though you saw her yesterday.

“Me? Look at you, you look good enough to eat! The uniform turned out perfect!”

You watch her eyes wander towards the door and then light up in a way you’ve only ever seen when she sees NYSNC on MTV. You follow her gaze to the person she’s looking at that you could only assume is Eddie.

“Eddie, baby! This is Quinn.” She gestures towards you like you’re a prize on the price is right and it makes you giggle.

“Hi Eddie, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Our girl here has told me so much about you, I feel like I already know your whole life story.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” She playfully slaps your arm and laughs.

“But I thought you were my girl sweetheart?”

Eddie wraps himself around your bestfriend with a pout on his face and a knowing smirk spreads across yours. Iris told you how clingy he is and you have to stop yourself from laughing as you watch it happen in real time.

“Yeah but technically she was my girl first.”

The pout on his face deepens and his arms around her tighten a little and it makes you laugh.

“Aww don’t be so dramatic, she’s totally obsessed with you.” You tease.

“Me? She’s obsessed with you. She never shuts up about you either!”

“Well I guess that just makes us the two coolest people alive then.”

“Hey Harrington! Come over here, I want you to meet someone!” You abruptly halt your banter with Eddie at the sound of his name.

You look behind you and you swear you believe in love at first sight for a second, because holy shit this man is beautiful. His chestnut hair is shiny and slicked back, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders, the white tee he’s wearing underneath is tight against his abdomen and those jeans hugged him in all the right ways. When he approaches he leans on the counter next to where you’re standing, up close you can see that he has a toothpick hanging from his lips, his lips that looked extremely fucking kissable. His face looked like it was made with Greek gods in mind, his brown eyes flecked with green and his nose and jaw prominent, and also perfect for kissing. Damn, he hasn’t even said a word to you yet and you’re already thinking about leaving lipstick marks all over him.

“Steve, this is my bestfriend.” She tells Steve your name before winking at you and letting Eddie drag her off into the crowd.

“Hi, I’m Steve.” He smiles at you sweetly and you can’t help but notice that he seems a bit nervous, which makes you want to laugh because he’s standing in front of you looking like that.

“Hi Steve, it's nice to meet you. Iris has told me a lot about not just Eddie, but you too. She’s been really wanting us to meet.” You giggle and turn towards him, resting your hip on the counter so you can look at him better.

“Yeah? She’s uh - she’s told me a lot about you too. She told me you were pretty but wow.” It would’ve sounded like a douchey pick up line if his face wasn’t red as a tomato, his eyes wide and roaming, but bashful.

“Me wow? Look at you.” Your eyes look him up and down while you bite your lip. “I like your costume, a greaser, right?”

“Yeah, it was kind of a last minute decision because I waited too long and this was easy to throw together. I borrowed one of Eddie’s jackets. But I think it turned out okay.” He put his hands in the pockets of the leather jacket before spinning in a circle to give you the full effect.

“I think it turned out great, I like your hair.” You really wanted to tell him that you wanted to take a bite out of his ass but that seemed a bit forward, for now.

“Thanks honey, I like your costume too. Naughty school girl?.” His eyes roamed your whole body now and you didn’t miss the way they lingered on your cleavage and thighs just a little longer than the rest of you.

“Yeah? It’s my old school uniform that I altered. But I think it turned out okay.” You smirk at him before throwing his actions back at him and giving him a spin, your skirt going up just long enough for him to get a view of your ass.

“Your old school uniform? Fuck…Yeah, I like it. I like your shoes. And your necklace.” But what he really wanted to say was that he wanted to worship every inch of your body and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe anymore but that seemed a bit forward, for now.

You look down at your combat boot clad feet and giggle, your hand subconsciously reaching up to touch the studded choker that adorned your neck.

“Pumpkin!!! It’s our song!!” You hear Iris a second before the fact that Living Dead Girl had just started playing through the speakers.

“Sorry, I’ll be back! Duty calls!” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving behind a dark red lipstick stain before skipping off to the middle of the living room.

You felt eyes on you as you and Iris’ bodies moved closely together to the beat. You had glanced over your shoulder once to see a very pouty yet adorable Eddie staring directly at your bestfriend but you couldn’t stop looking at Steve. His eyes were locked in on you as your hips swayed and your short skirt lifted with each movement. You look him directly in the eyes and smirk as you back against Iris, grinding your ass against her. Your staring game abruptly ends when Eddie walks over demanding your bestfriend’s attention. You wave her off with a knowing smile before finding your way back to Steve.

“Eddie is such a baby I swear, I can’t believe he was jealous of that, that was fucking hot.” Steve snorts, teasing his friend and complimenting you at the same time.

“Iris told me he was clingy, but damn, that boy is attached. It’s cute though, they’re really cute together. Opposites attract and all that.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I believed in that until I saw those two. But I definitely do now.” The look in his eyes said more than his words and you felt your cheeks flush.

As the night went on you and Steve got closer, getting to know each other, having a few drinks together. You eventually found your way into his lap on the couch and all you wanted to do was shove your tongue down his throat and grind down on him but you didn’t feel like having your first kiss with him in the middle of a crowded living room.

“You wanna go somewhere with me Stevie?” You bring your hand to his face, running your thumb over the apple of his cheek.

“Yeah. Anywhere.”

“What? Scared of a little trespassing, pretty boy?” You smirk at him as you hike your leg up on the fence that you’ve climbed countless times before.

“Don’t worry, me and Iris used to sneak back here all the time when we were kids, it’s safe, promise. Now come on.”

You climb the fence and drop down on the other side before he even has a chance to respond. The fence rattles and you see Steve’s large hands grasp onto the top, you watch as he pulls himself up and jumps over in one swift motion. Hot.

“Show off.” You snort and roll your eyes.

“I can’t help that I’m not only devilishly handsome but naturally athletic.” Steve smirks and you can’t help it when you bust up laughing.

“Okaaay, someone’s been watching too much Zoolander.”

“Hey! You know what… actually, you’re probably right.” Steve’s face settles in his attempt to pull off “blue steel” and it sends you into a second fit of laughter. His deep laughter joins yours and you can’t help but think you’d like to make him laugh like that again and again.

“Oh noooo, he’s found my greatest weakness!! However will I resist the blue steel? Looks like my only choice is to run!!” You take off running, weaving through the apple trees like you have dozens of times before, platform boots be damned.

“You can’t get away that easily!!” You hear Steve’s converse clad feet crunching the fallen leaves as he chases after you.

You take a sharp left and halt when you see your destination, your favorite tree, quickly ducking behind it.

“Pretty little girls always think they can hide from big bad wolves but that’s often not the case.” He dropped his voice octave and you know it’s meant to sound goofy but it makes your thighs clench.

“Ohhhh cute little school mouse, come out, come out wherever you aaaare.” You hear his footsteps approaching the tree and you feel anticipation grow in your belly.

“GOTCHA!!!” Steve pops up behind you, his hands grab your shoulders and you let out a yelp.

“Oh my fucking god! You scared the shit out of me asshole!!” You turn around and land a playful slap on his chest.

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice about teasing me and then making me chase you through a giant apple orchard.”

“I don’t know… I don’t think I’d mind if you chased me around, Steve Harrington.” You bite your lip as your eyes roam over his body. He looks good enough to eat.

“Yeah? You like getting chased, baby? Want me to stalk you like my prey?” He steps closer to you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the mix of beer and cinnamon gum on his breath.

“Yeah. I think I’d like that.” You bite your lip and your thighs subconsciously rub together.

“Maybe some other time…” He closes the small amount of distance remaining between the two of you and reaches his hand up to push a piece of fallen hair off your face. “Right now, I’d really like to kiss you.”

“Yeah? I think I’d like that too.”

One hand cups your jaw and the other comes to rest on your hip so he can pull you flush against him, Steve’s lips meet yours and he kisses you with passion, he kisses you like a boyfriend would and it makes your knees weak. You bring your hands up to fist the collar of his jacket as he guides you backwards until your back hits the tree. His body presses against yours and you can feel that he’s already starting to get hard.

“Mmm I’ve been wanting to do that all fucking night.” He groans as he pulls away for air, both hands now resting on your hips as his body traps you between him and the tree.

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that all night.”

“Looks like I’ll have to do it again then.” His lips met yours again but this time the kiss was more desperate, his tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you dart yours out to meet his, the taste of him making your pussy throb. You feel his gum glide over your tongue and take it into your mouth before pulling away.

“Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to have gum in class, Mr. Harrington?”

“Mr. Harrington, huh? Don’t the teachers make the rules? If that’s the case then I say we can have gum in class…” He licks his lips as he watches you pull the end of the gum from your mouth and twirl it around your finger.

“You want me to do what you say, Mr. Harrington? Is that what you’re saying?” You swirl the gum all the way around your finger before inserting the digit in your mouth to pull it off.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Have you been a good girl? Did you do last night's homework?” He presses you up against the tree, his cock rubs against your inner thigh and you can feel that he’s huge, his caramel eyes that were flecked with hues of green before look black in the light of the moon while he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“No… but…” you bring your black pointed acrylic nails up to his face and drag them lightly down his neck to his chest. “Isn’t there something I could do for extra credit, sir?” You give him your best ‘innocent girl’ pout and bat your eyelashes at him.

“I’m sure we can figure something out… but first I have to punish you for not doing your work.” He grabs your jaw in his large hand and squishes your cheeks together while he shakes your head from side to side. “Hmmm… what am I gonna do with you, huh little mouse? Maybe I should spank you with my belt till you cry?”

Your eyes roll in the back of your head and you moan, the way he quickly transitioned into this dominant role making your head spin.

“You like the sound of that? You’re such a naughty girl.” He has no idea how crazy this is making you, not only were you getting fucked by a boy dressed as a greaser outside on Halloween in your old school uniform that you altered to show way more skin than would be school appropriate but he was basically role playing with you.

Steve was in a similar boat, he genuinely couldn’t believe this was happening. He was mostly just playing it up, maybe testing the waters a little bit, but if you actually let him spank you right here right now he thinks he might fall in love with you.

“If that’s what you think I deserve, sir…” you give him that look again and Steve actually moans, he hasn’t felt like he was going to cum in his pants for years but right now, with you looking at him like that, he thinks he could.

“Turn around and bend over.” His tone is stern and matter of fact and you wouldn’t dare disobey him, even if you wanted to.

You spin around and place both your hands on the tree with your ass sticking out just enough that your tiny skirt rides up to reveal your ass cheeks and a sliver of your red lace panties.

“Jesus fucking christ, baby, you look so sexy like this fuck.” Steve momentarily forgets about your little game, his brain feeling like it was about to short circuit. “Too bad I have to punish you… I’d love to just throw you down in the dirt and have my way with you right now. But you still have to learn your lesson.”

“Yes Mr. Harrington, please teach me a lesson.” You whine and wiggle your ass, causing your skirt to ride up further. The anticipation is killing you as you wait for him to do something, but then you hear it… the sound of his belt clanking open.

He pushes your skirt further up your ass and he rubs his hand over one of the soft cheeks before harshly smacking it. He bites his lip at the little whimper that escapes your mouth and the way the fat on your ass jiggles. A second smack comes down on the other cheek and you let out a loud moan. His hand leaves you and you almost want to cry but then you’re crying out for a different reason when you feel it snake around your hair and yank your head back.

“You gonna be a good girl and count for me? How many do you think you deserve? I say ten.” You feel him bring his belt up to your ass cheeks and run it across them, he swipes it between your thighs and over your pussy, rubbing it along your slick panties.

“Whatever you think is best, sir.” Your voice comes out syrupy sweet.

He leans over you so his lips are grazing your ear “If you want me to stop say red. Now count.”

He stands back to his full height and without warning a loud smack lands on your ass causing you to yelp and surge forward.

“One.”

“Good girl. Again.” Another smack comes down on the same cheek and the sting is delicious.

“Two.”

Another smack on the same cheek followed immediately by a third on the opposite cheek.

“Three - fuck - four.” He releases his grip on your hair to rub his large hand over your ass before landing another smack.

“F-five!”

The next three came swiftly but you still counted each one.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good for me. Just two more, okay?” The bark of the tree was digging into your hands and your ass was burning, Steve’s hand came up to rub over your reddened cheeks and you sigh.

“Yes please.” Is all you can muster and you hear him practically growl behind you before the ninth smack lands on your ass.

“Nine!”

“Good girl baby, that’s my good girl, just one more.”

You brace yourself for the last smack on your ass but it doesn’t come, instead the belt comes up between your legs and smacks against your pussy through your wet panties.

“Ten! Fuck!” You clench your thighs and throw your head back and Steve immediately steps up behind you, wrapping you in his arms.

“Mmm you were so good for me little mouse, I think you deserve your reward now, what do you say?” His hands wrap around you and come up to grab your tits through your shirt while he rubs his hard cock against your ass.

You turn around in his arms and take his face in your hands, kissing him urgently.

“How do you want me, Mr. Harrington?”

You’re still giving him that look and you have this smile on your face like he just got you the gift you wanted most for your birthday. He’s pretty sure you’re his dream girl.

“First, let’s get this off of you.” He reaches for the knot on your shirt that’s keeping it held together and pulls it, the shirt easily falling open to reveal your red lace push-up.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

The way he was looking at you could only be described as romantic and loving, which was a stark contrast from how he was smacking your ass raw just moments ago. His hands reach up and ghost over your collar bones and down your arms, he snakes them around your back before looking at you with a question in his eyes and you nod. As soon as he gets the go ahead he’s unclasping your bra and letting it fall down your arms in one swift motion. Goosebumps rise on your skin as the cool air hits it, causing your nipples to harden immediately.

“The most perfect tits I’ve ever seen.” He leans down to press hot wet kisses along your throat and collar bones. You feel him sucking a bruise into your throat and you gasp, both at the feeling and at the thought of being marked by him. Without warning you pull away from him and drop to your knees in front of him, looking up at him with big eyes that shone in the moonlight.

“Can I suck you off? Please?”

“You don’t have to say please, pretty girl.”

He smirks down at you as he undoes his button and zipper, pulling his boxers and jeans down enough for his cock to come out. When it springs from his pants you can’t hold in the gasp that leaves your lips. It’s big, long and thick and veiny with a well trimmed patch of brown curls at the base. His tip is leaking precum and he is so fucking hard it almost looks painful. You meet his eyes with yours again, spitting in your hand and bringing it to his cock, pumping him a few times before you lean in and lick the salty cum from his head.

“Fuck baby, you’re so sexy like this. On your knees for me in the middle of an orchard in nothing but that little skirt and those socks.” That fucking choker and those boots that he was sure could crush him, he’d let you crush him if you asked.

You take him in your mouth as far down as you can, letting your throat restrict around him before pulling off again for air. You take as much as you can in your mouth and use your hand to glide along with the movements of your mouth. Spit is dripping down your chin, his cock and all over his balls. When you pull off and look up at him he has to physically stop himself from cumming. You’re still jerking him off when you lean in and take one of his balls in your mouth and hum around it. You switch to the other side and he swears he’s losing his mind, he’s never had someone pay attention to his balls like this and your mouth is so warm and wet and if he looks close enough he can see that drool has started to drip down onto your chest.

“O -oh fuck - fuck - shit!” He grips onto your hair to pull you off of him. “God damn, you’re so good, such a good girl. Why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me so I can reward you?”

Instead of responding with words you turn your back towards him and rest your hands on the soft dirt and leaves that covered the ground, you arch so your ass is in the air and look over your shoulder at him. You bite your lip as you watch him take off the leather jacket followed by his shirt and discard them on the ground. He comes up behind you and gets down on his knees, shoving your skirt up over your ass once more. There’s a moment where he pauses and you figure he must’ve noticed your tattoo. You and Iris went to the tattoo shop a few weeks ago and while she got her nipples pierced, you got a tramp stamp.

“Look at these pretty marks on your ass honey, they go so well with your pretty little tattoo, you’re going to be thinking about me for days after this.” He runs his hands over your hips, hooking his fingers into the band of your underwear and pulling them down so they pooled at your knees.

“I’m gonna be thinking about this for the rest of my life, pretty boy.”

“Yeah? And I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He runs his cock through your slick folds, tapping it on your clit a few times before lining it up with your entrance. He pushes his tip in and out a few times before he starts to slowly thrust into you.

Normally you would appreciate him taking his time to let you adjust but right now he has you outside on your knees in the fucking dirt and you want him to ruin you.

“You don’t have to be gentle, I want it rough.” You push your ass back towards him causing his dick to go a few inches deeper. He thrusts the rest of the way into you pushing his hips flush against yours before starting to fuck into you at a brutal pace.

He’s gripping your hips so hard that you hope you have bruises tomorrow, and the noises coming out of him are making you insane. If anyone heard you guys they might think wild animals were fighting.

“You’re so fucking good little mouse, letting me fuck you on the ground like this? God - fuck!”

You don’t think it can get any better than this and then he proves you wrong, you feel his hand wrap around the beads of the rosary on your neck and tug, choking you with it.

“Oh my god - god Steve, fuck! S-so good it’s so g-good.”

He changes his pace slightly, hitting the exact right spot inside you. He drops the rosary so he can snake that hand around the front of you to rub your clit.

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna c-cum Steve, I’m gonna cum.” Your eyes roll in the back of your head and your pussy clenches around him as your orgasm crashes through you.

“F-fuck FUCK! You’re so fucking good, so so good, fuck!” His thrusts turn sloppy and then he’s spilling into you.

“God fucking damn Harrington, you really know how to introduce yourself to a girl.” You giggle as you turn around, letting his cock slip out of you. After you pull your panties up you stand up with shaky legs, looking down at him with an adoring smile.

“I swear I’m usually more of a ‘take her to dinner first’ kinda guy but that whole ‘Mr. Harrington’ thing you did really got me going. I can't lie.” He chuckled, standing up and buttoning his pants. He reaches down to grab your bra off the ground and does a spinning motion with his finger, indicating for you to turn around. You oblige, and you’re pleasantly surprised when you feel him guiding your arms back through your bra. He does the same with your shirt, spinning you around so he can redo the tie. He gives you a sweet kiss and then picks up his shirt and jacket to put them back on. You smile bashfully at him, after all that the thing that makes you blush is him treating you sweetly.

“Thank you Steve, you’re very sweet. It’s also not too late for you to take me to dinner.”

“You’re right little mouse, it’s not, would you like to go to dinner with me? This weekend? Maybe we can catch a movie. Iris told me you like vampires and I saw that a new one is coming out, damned queen or something?”

“Queen of the damned? I really want to see that! I would love to, Stevie!” Your heart swells at the fact that he remembers that little detail about you and you remind yourself to thank Iris later.

“Shall we head back to the party?”

“Ugh, if we must.” You sigh dramatically and playfully roll your eyes. Knowing damn well you are about to walk back into this party looking absolutely wrecked. Your socks were covered in dirt, your ass was bright red and your skirt did little to cover it, and you hadn’t seen it yet but you know with the way Steve was sucking on your neck you have one or two hickies there. But you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care, you would do it all over again.

When you walk back into the party Iris immediately catches your eye, bounding over to you and whisking you off to the bathroom. You observe her and you can tell you weren’t the only one who just got fucked in the middle of a party.

“Soooo… you took him to the orchard, huh?”

“Oh, I took him there alright, Harrington is a freak. But I guess Eddie is too, huh?” You point to her legs and she looks up at you with flushed cheeks when she sees you’re pointing at the obviously dried cum that had dripped down one of her thighs.

“Well Eddie reaaaaally liked the piercings. It looks like Steve really liked your costume…”

“Oh, you have no idea…”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

From the depths

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, October 2023 edition

Prompt: suck, 480 words

CW: Mild blood and gore; Drowning; References to murder; Monsters; Tentacles

Rated: M

Notes: It's October, I'm all up in my spooky shit

Eddie’s first thought as consciousness returns is that he’ll murder Jason fucking Carver. 

He should have known something was off when the asshole asked to make the deal by Lovers’ Lake, shouldn't have walked into the forest. Because of course his goons were hiding somewhere to tinker with the van. 

Eddie heaves a wrecking cough as the memories come. 

The rear swerving off the dark road. The brake pedal limp under his foot. Hitting the water. The sickening vertigo as the van went under. Water rising in the footwell, weight pressing in. The noise as the windshield cracked. 

The realization that he was gonna die. 

"Shhhh, breathe." 

A hand in his hair, a voice in his ear. 

Air in his lungs. 

Eddie's eyes open. 

For a second, he thinks he died and went to heaven. Because hovering above him is the prettiest boy he's ever seen. He's ethereal in the moonlight - chiseled features, soft hair, smooth skin dotted in moles.

"Wha-?"

"Don't speak," smiles the boy. His voice settles over Eddie, calm and commanding. "Only just pulled you out." 

He turns Eddie's head, probably to check for injuries? Eddie blinks as the surface of the lake swims into focus. Bubbles burst where the van disappeared. 

"Fuck," he rasps, sitting up. "Looks like I'm walking home." 

"No," coos the boy, and grips his hands. He's close, eyes very bright in the dark. They're hypnotic, like they're sucking him in. "Stay. It's been so long since I ate." 

Eddie freezes. Because the boy has just put a hand to his face, and it's clammy and cold like the water. Because there's something spanning between his clawed fingers, something webbed like membranes. 

Because the boy doesn't have legs. 

His bare torso melts into a coiling mass of tentacles, slithering all around them, wrapping around Eddie’s limbs, cold and moist and choking and- 

"Wait!" 

The boy - the creature - blinks gleaming eyes at him. One clawed hand pulls Eddie's fingers up to plush lips. They are still bloody from pounding against the walls of the van. A too-long, too-pointed tongue darts out to drag them into a mouth full of sharp fangs and sucks the blood right off.

"You're hungry," Eddie smiles through his horror, tries to make it disarming. "I can get you food. Lots of food, way better than my skinny ass." 

The boy releases his fingers with a wet pop. 

"Continue." 

Eddie frantically rambles on. "I know this big, meaty jock. Lots of muscle, very healthy. He should still be close, I can-" 

One membraned hand grabs his jaw.

"Do not try to wiggle out of this. I've marked you. If I call, you'll come. And I'll feed. Are we clear?" 

Eddie swallows. "Crystal. Now let me get you that snack." 

Jason disappears on that night. 

It's the first of many times Eddie feeds the boy from the lake.

Part 2

[ghostlyfleur]

for halloween:

♡ eddie and his girl would dress as jack and sally.

♡ stevie and his girl would dress as rapunzel and flynn.

[flowercrowngods]

shattered on the cliff’s edge, trapped by the tides

part 1 / 7 | or: read on ao3

The fog rolls in like a heavy cloud that morning, leaving the city in eerie darkness as Steve hurries toward the heavy door to the steel manufactory, scarf wound tightly around his neck to keep out the cold so uncommon for late September.

“Thanks,” he mutters to the gruff, broad man who holds open the door for him. He sees him every morning but has never had the chance to ask about his name. The question is on the tip of his tongue when, with a nod and a touch to his sturdy-looking hat, the man walks down a different corridor than Steve.

Where outside the fog was so thick that all noise seemed dulled, like cotton in his ears, the manufactory is a cacophony of banging and clanging, hissing and whirring, and Steve needs a moment to breathe the polluted, heavy air that’s always just a tad too hot for his lungs.

He doesn’t mind the work, is good with his hands and enjoys the single-minded focus it provides on a good day, the deafening noise loud enough to drown out most of the comments the other workers throw his way; comments about his father, his upbringing, and his rather sudden downfall when Richard D. Harrington decided to disown his eldest son three years ago without rhyme or reason.

Steelwork, engineering, intricate cogs that work massive machinery — they fascinate him, they keep him busy fourteen hours a day, and they leave him dead to the world when the shift is over and graciously let him sleep through the dreams that have been haunting him ever since he can remember being haunted.

It’s always the same dream, in the fall more than in the spring. A lighthouse trapped in the sea, waves rolling and crashing, water rising so high that it might as well swallow the lighthouse whole. And through it all, a beacon. And through it all, a voice he cannot make out. And through it all, a ticking that echoes through his skull even long after he gasped awake with a lungful of water that Robin says might be Tuberculosis.

He blinks away the gloom that has laid over his heart like the fog over the city, shakes off the trancelike feeling that overtakes him every time he tries to think about the lighthouse when he is wide awake, and rubs away the headache that comes with sleep deprivation. It’s fall again, which means he spends his nights haunted by ghostly images of a lighthouse he’s not even sure exists, robbed of all chances at resting if he doesn’t work himself to the point of absolute exhaustion.

They are earlier this year, the night terrors. Everything is a little earlier this year.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder as Emerson arrives behind him, leading him to their station with idle chatter about the weather and the horrible, horrible fog that Steve has not the patience to partake in today — which is just as well for Emerson and his sunny disposition, he’ll simply talk enough for the both of them. Steve is fond enough of him to let him be as he falls into the routine of working steel and breathing overheated, coal-stained air.

They work in unison until noon, the headache dull enough as long as he keeps busy, but almost blinding when he stops for even a second. A booming voice makes him look up from his station, though, as he is being summoned to the office.

It’s never a good sign, and Steve can feel the blood draining from his face, pulling the ache with it as it travels down his spine and settles in his centre in a pit of nausea.

“Oh no,” Emerson murmurs under his breath, even managing to sound genuine about it. “What did you do?”

Images assault his mind. Prison, if he’s lucky. Asylum and electroshock therapy if he’s not; if his father changed his mind about making it public that his eldest son and heir deserves punishment, or treatment for moral insanity. Steve tries not to think of that too often, tries not to look at men like that anymore — tries not to look at anyone anymore until the public forgets about him.

But every time he is reminded that he exists is another time of fear. Fear of being found out.

“I… have no idea,” Steve says after a while, looking up to where the door to the office looms above all of them, leaving them to feel like prisoners in a panopticon.

“Better not keep ‘em waiting, then. Probably too late to run, eh?”

“Probably,” Steve says, dazed, not really listening to Emerson as he kicks into motion and walks briskly up the stairs, pretending not to feel everyone’s eyes on his back.

It is out of a nervous habit that he pulls the watch from his pocket, its silver chain linked to his vest. It springs open in his hands as he takes the steps one by one, providing comfort for no reason other than it’s his. It doesn’t show the time, never has, but after losing everything at his father’s whim, the pocket watch stayed with him.

“Keep it,” Richard had sneered. “The blasted thing isn’t worth a penny!”

The fingers only ever moved incrementally over the years, and backwards, but still there is something about the watch that makes him keep it close at all times. Collecting himself, he closes his hand around the light metal and filigree ornaments and mentally counts to three before putting it back in his pocket and knocking on the door.

“Ah, Harrington,” the superior manager says, his voice sounding like gravel as per usual. The man has a habit of competing with the steel manufactory’s chimneys, only he smokes cigars instead of coal dust like his workers. Steve remembers the smell of fine cigars, and this office smells like the best among them.

It only helps to strengthen his disdain for the man.

Still he nods and aims for a pleasant smile. “You asked for me, sir?”

“Yes, yes,” the man says, leaning back in his thick leather chair and motioning for Steve to take a seat at the sturdy, delicately engraved mahogany desk. “Sit down, sit down, time is money and I give you more of that than you deserve anyway. I have a proposition for you and you are in no position to decline, yes?”

“Yes?” Steve says dumbly, taking his time to sit down just to spite him.

The man, however, is not as easily perturbed. “That’s what I want to hear, I have to admire your morale, Harrington. Here,” he turns and reaches for a cabinet, rummaging around for a minute before—

The blood in Steve’s veins freezes, leaving him cold and too hot all at once.

Underneath the beefy hand, he makes out a photograph — or possibly a postcard — showing a stark white lighthouse trapped in the sea, gigantic waves crashing into it, threatening to tear it down and carry it along to wherever the tides lead. The beacon of light is steadfast and stubborn, guiding and pointing at something that’s out of the frame, but what Steve can only assume is absolute nothingness out in the open sea.

He slides it over the table to lie in front of Steve, and he fights every urge to recoil, only gripping the arm rest far too tightly.

“See, we got a telegram earlier today that they’re having problems with the lighthouse up north. They say it’s something with the generator, not fit enough to last in the cold, where the air is made of saltwater more than oxygen.”

Steve nods, though he is only halfway listening, his heart hammering in his chest at the picture of the lighthouse, etched onto the paper like it has no idea it is also etched on the very forefront of Steve’s mind — has been, for almost three decades now.

“And since you’re the only one here traditionally educated in reading and writing,” the man continues, either unaware of Steve’s dizziness or delighting in it, “and you know your way around a machine or two, fixing the generator and handling the light shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

It’s not a question. It’s not even an offer.

Steve wonders if maybe he fell down the stairs and hit his head, if maybe the sleep deprivation is finally leading to hallucinations like Robin keeps warning him.

“You want me to fix the lighthouse?”

“That is precisely what I want, yes. Stay there a while, find out what seems to be the problem.”

He’s getting up, walking over to a cabinet, pulling out a half-empty bottle of what Steve can only assume is whisky. A biting, earthy smell floats through the room, thick enough to cling to his clothes if he stays here much longer.

“You’ll find yourself familiar with the equipment, as it is us who supply them. In fact, you have built generators and fixtures and engines like that. You’re a bright spark, Harrington, I can admit that. You’re the best fit. And I’m not asking.”

His jaw clicks shut, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table as he meets those dark eyes head-on.

“When do I leave?”

An ugly grin spreads the man’s face, gaining too much joy from other people’s powerlessness down the food chain.

“Tomorrow. If I remember correctly, and I usually do, you do not have much business to attend to, and even fewer things to pack. I trust you will find your place at the train station at five tomorrow morning. Emerson will know to fill your shoes in your absence.”

How long will I be gone? he wants to ask, but is too afraid that the answer will only be another cruel smirk and a sip of whisky.

He gets up, certain that he is being dismissed, and getting no sign that he’s wrong.

“Oh, and Harrington.” He stops with his hand on the door already. “Perhaps this is a good time to mention that the lighthouse is without a keeper. I have offered your services for the time being, seeing as you will already be there. The salary, of course, will be thrice as much as your usual.”

The daze is back, smelling of saltwater air and whisky, rushing in his ears like waves bursting on the cliffs.

“What happened to the old keepers?” he dares to ask.

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“Yes, it does. What happened to the old keepers?”

“I think you shall find out soon enough.” A beat of silence — horrible, tidal silence. Then, “You’re dismissed.”

***

The train ride is blessedly pleasant, the first class ticket providing the luxury of comfortable seating and relative silence, the wheels occasionally clicking along the railway loud enough to drown out the near-deafening rushing of the ocean in his ears — or perhaps it’s not the ocean, perhaps it is his own blood, pumped with fear and apprehension.

The only upside to all of this is the telegram he’s been gripping tightly all morning so as not to lose it, not to forget about it, not to think it was a dream. A childish, hopeless dream, a longing for company to battle the fear of the dark.

I’ll meet you there. 3 days.

Signed: Robin Buckley. She never took his name, said she did not want to be associated with Richard and the Harrington wealth that came with the Napoleonic wars — never mind that they happened almost a century ago.

Blood money isn’t wealth, Steven, she’d said to him on many occasions, and he loved her for it all the more.

Maybe it will be fine if Robin is there with him. Maybe they won’t end up succumbing to madness like people are wont to do, subjected to the endless loneliness of lighthouse keeping. Confronted with a darkness so deep it needs human invention to remain habitable. Maybe, he wonders idly and with shortness of breath, the world will end if all its lights are gone. Maybe all that will remain is nothingness and the ruthless sea — maybe, until the sun rises again and the light returns. But up north, the sun doesn’t stay all that long. Up north, they say the darkness is different. They say it’s sentient. They say—

A servant offers him some tea or coffee if he pleases, ripping hit out of his obsessive spiral of apprehension and fear.

“Yes, thank you,” he breathes, miming quiet politeness to cover up the lack of air in his lungs. The servant nods, not at all perturbed by Steve’s rather horrific disposition, and moves along.

The tea helps a little. It’s hard to think horrible thoughts when there is a steaming cup in your hands smelling comfortingly of herbs and just a hint at something spicy. It feels almost primal, his fear of the lighthouse — but just as primal is the comfort he finds in the warmth spreading from his hands all the way through his body. The shaking stops after a minute, and breath has returned to his lungs in a way that doesn’t leave him scared to let it out.

It will be fine. The sea will lose its terror, and so will darkness. He will read, and fix what needs to be fixed, and laugh at it all with Robin by his side, who will teach him about birds they will never see, about authors that don’t live anymore, and about the stars they get to watch.

It will be fine. He will be fine. Always, with Robin.

***

He arrives at the seaside town just before nightfall, and the first thing he notices is not the rushing of the ocean, but the crispness of the air that feels vastly different in his lungs to the grey and brown, polluted city air. It’s like he’s a babe taking his first breath in this world; and just like a babe, he is overcome with the urge to cry. He doesn’t, only pinches the bridge of his nose and grabs his bags — two of them, filled only with clothes and books to pass the time.

The walk to the next inn is a long one, and by the time he arrives there — guttural laughter coming even through closed doors and windows — he is frozen to his bones. If he’d thought that fall was quick to arrive in the city, he might as well have entered an arctic winter up here. The half suspects, though, that the cold comes from his empty stomach and the bitterness that replaced the fear just as well as the actual, biting cold.

And to think it’s only just early September.

He pushes the door open and finds it blissfully warm, a large fire roaring in the fireplace and in the hearth, leaving the food steaming on the plates. Silence settles almost immediately, and Steve freezes on the spot. Being perceived in a situation he has no control over has never been his strong suit, and he wonders just what these people have heard about him. If they heard anything at all.

“Come in or get out, but leave the cold out there,” a large lady says from behind the bar, an apron wrapped around her skirt and a towel in her hand as she eyes him with wary but not unkind eyes.

“Forgive me,” Steve says, stepping further into the inn and letting the heavy door fall shut behind him.

“Ahh,” someone says from where he’s sitting on a round table with six other, quite burly men. Fishermen, Steve assumes, or harbour workers, if their sun-tanned skin and general muscular build are any indication. He places his jug of beer on the table and eyes Steve rather closely. “You’re the boy they sent. Who will fix the lighthouse, aye?”

“Aye,” Steve says stupidly, internally cringing at himself. Then, turning towards the woman, “Have you a room to spare?”

“Have you money to spare?” she retorts, clearly mocking him for his odd choice of words — it’s hard, laying down his aristocratic upbringing, especially in a town auch as this.

“Of course,” he says. “For food, drink, and someone to bring me to the lighthouse in three days.”

Another man of the group snorts loudly, shaking his head and studying his ale like it would tell him the future.

“No way, boy. Ain’t no one gettin’ close to that thing.”

“She’s haunted. Has a mind and a life of her own, and she’s made it clear that no one is welcome to get too close. ‘S what lighthouses are for, eh? No getting too close. You get too close, you die. Simple as that.”

Steve takes it in, the pale faces of the men all nodding along, the thousand yard stares they all have in common — and his fear is back. But greater than his fear is his annoyance with men who insist on calling him boy and decide to speak in riddles instead of making sense.

“Haunted?” he asks, taking one of two spare seats at the table, nodding at the woman in thanks as she brings him an ale that only barely smells like piss. “How?”

“Haven’t you heard?” a fourth man, the oldest of them, speaks up. “There’s a curse on the lighthouse. No one gets out alive. We only ever bring her new stock, like cattle to the slaughterhouse. She takes. She takes and takes, boy.”

“So you do bring them,” Steve points out, far too tired and irritated to listen to a ghost story before he’s even had a proper, warm dinner.

The men still, and Steve places a tower of money in the centre of the table.

“It’s yours,” he says, looking at each of them, one after the other, “if you take us there in three days. Four, if the weather decides to play.”

“Us?”

“My wife,” Steve says.

“Fine,” one of them, the one who first spoke to him, grumbles, reaching for the money. “Now go. This table is for grownups, boy.”

With an eye-roll and an air of arrogance, Steve gets up and finds a seat at another table closer to the fireplace. Soon after, fresh stew is placed before him and he dives in.

***

The lighthouse towers on top of the cliffs and Steve watches, mesmerised, as he makes out its shape even in the pitch black darkness. It’s eerie, the power it emanates, the myths and legends that weave around it and its kind. Legends that would be fascinating learning about them in the safety of one’s bed, but which are horrifying to remember days before the nameless fates could be one’s own.

The darkness of the night really is endless here without the lights of the city, and he can only imagine how the lighthouse would help, how it would bring back hope and security, a promise of safe passage. It’s brings him a sort of peace; a purpose, imagining this town in the lighthouse’s beacon. Safe for the night, safe until the sun comes back.

Still it doesn’t ease his night terrors, filled with whispers as they are, growing in urgency and almost clear enough to make out.

Three days pass. Four. Five. There is no sign of Robin. Anxiety grows within him, because Steve knows Robin was going to take the seaside route from the Cunningham estate — well, one of them, at least.

She has a mind of her own. She takes and takes, boy. She’s haunted. Has a mind and a life of her own, and she’s made it clear that no one is welcome to get too close.

What if…

No. No, there is simply no way. Haunted lighthouses taking lives. There’s no— no way. He won’t fall for their ghost stories.

Unfortunately, however, they don’t fall for his charm either, and on the seventh day, when the sea is calm and the sun steady above them, the man who took they money — Old John, apparently — approaches him.

“We’re leaving now,” he says, shoving Steve ahead of him, deaf to his protest that they have to wait, they have to wait. “Your sweetheart ain’t coming, kid. Don’t think she’ll be coming anywhere ever again if she really took the ship. They talk of a ship that got lost in the storm, burst on the cliffs because there was no light. I’m sorry, kid, but I won’t risk waiting any longer.”

A ship lost in the storm?

But… No. No!

“No,” he whispers, letting himself be shoved onto a tiny boat and rocked this way and that, feeling nauseous for more reasons than one.

He’s wrong, Steve knows; feels it in his very soul. Robin is not dead. She’ll come.

She… She will come. She won’t leave him alone, all alone, in this place that has been haunting him for years and years.

She’ll come.

The lighthouse towers above them, perched on top of cliffs that make Steve understand why nobody wanted take him here. There’s no safe way of getting close, let alone climbing up the stairs carved into the cliffs, leading up to the door with no railing, no rope to hold onto. One large wave crashing into him, and he’d belong to the ocean.

He wants to cry again. Wants to curl in on himself and weep as the reality of everything begins to settle in the deepest, darkest places of his heart.

If he leaves the boat, he’ll be trapped with no way of getting out, no way of contacting the land they’ve left far, far behind. Supplies are said to last several months, he knows, he studied the file he got. Several months without human interaction unless Robin magically, wonderfully appears in a few days after all.

“Good luck, kid,” is the last thing he’ll ever hear of Old John as he pulls himself onto the cliffs, reaching for his bags from the old man’s hands. The sea is deafening here as waves crash and burst relentlessly, and he can’t hear what else Old John is saying, but he thanks him and salutes, which the seaman returns with an air of melancholy.

Steve climbs the stairs, soaked to the bones by the splashing water, but somehow — miraculously — malign his way up. As he turns around, fog is starting to gather above the water, but he can make out the tiny silhouette of the boat.

He watches, and it’s meant as a last goodbye, one last glance at his one way out. But terror fills him as he watches, helplessly, powerlessly, as Old John’s boat keels over and disappears. He keeps his eyes fixed to the spot, not daring to look away until there’s proof of life. But Old John doesn’t break the surface again.

And Steve is left filled with horror and the absolute certainty that he might not make it out if he sets foot inside the lighthouse.

Behind him, the door opens with a horrible, terrifying creak, and the beating of his heart is too loud for any other noise to exist in Steve’s world right now.

🌊 part 2 (coming 26 October)

tagging (trading tags for kindness): @klausinamarink @vampeddie @steviesummer @sharpbutsoft @auroraplume

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it 

Part 1

Eddie keeps hearing strange sounds coming from the woods. Whispers on the wind that sound like chanting. His job as an overnight groundskeeper for the local cemetery doesn’t pay him well enough to deal with supernatural shit. He's convinced the woods are haunted, and asks Wayne about the history. 

There's only one tale of a girl who died. A recent disappearance that felt more like an urban legend. But it’s one that keeps people from wandering too far into the depths of the mysterious forest. Eddie didn’t know the girl, only knew of her. Everyone in Hawkins knew who she was now, though.

There's something there, ghostly or otherwise. Eddie knows he's not crazy. And then the bodies start moving. Graves disturbed and taken apart, even while he's on duty. He's lucky he hasn't been fired, but he fixes them before the sun comes up, cursing the fucking ghosts or grave robbers, or whoever is making his job more difficult. 

He feels like he's in an episode of Scooby-Doo. There's no trace of whoever's doing this, no foot prints or trail. Until one day he spots a flash of light out of the corner of his eye. He's moving towards it even though his brain is urging him to run the other way.

At least he has enough sense to duck behind a tombstone when he gets close enough to make out what's happening in front of him. But he almost wishes he couldn't see. Because right there, is a zombie. A corpse come to life and talking to a man. That’s worse than ghosts.

He wants to scream, but it's caught in his throat. Like a dnd campaign brought to life, this man must be some kind of necromancer, holding this corpse together with sorcery and communicating with it like an old friend. The names Barb and Nancy drift across the space to his ears.

When he tears his eyes away from the living dead, he notices the man, beautiful and glowing in the magical essence twisting around him. There's a green glow seeping from his fingertips, passing between him and the body hovering in the air. It's reflected in his eyes.

Eddie wonders if the glow has a warmth, like a fire, it's green flames illuminating the surrounding area. When the light dies out and the body is lowered to the ground, the man looks sad, silent tears crawling down his face and chest heaving, visible even in the pitch black night. 

He doesn't know this man but he wants to reach out, not just from curiosity about whatever the hell he just witnessed, but to make sure he's alright. Just when he thinks the man is going to go back to the woods, he turns around and looks directly at the place where Eddie's hiding.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

[steddie-spooktober]

Time to get ready for Steddie Spooktober Week 1!

As a reminder for everyone participating, posting starts in TWO WEEKS; get those worms a-wigglin' if they haven't been already!!

(see below for the info in the above graphic!)

October 1st - rain

Puddles to jump in, dancing in it, it ruins their plans, cozying up together while it pours, stranded in a storm.. Love or hate it, it’s a staple of midwestern autumns.

October 2nd - woods

Dark and spooky forest, finding sticks that are good enough for swords, there’s something they don’t speak about living in them.

October 3rd - apples

Bobbing for them, picking them, insisting they can shoot one off the others’ head but it’s only their second time with a bow, caramel covered v. candy-coated, adam's apple, apple of their eye

October 4th - corn maze

Are they lost together? Is one super good at finding their way? Maybe one is lost and the other(s) have to find them., something's after them and "Quick! We'll lose 'em in here!"

October 5th - "Did you hear that?"

Was it a spooky sound? Did one of them say something without realizing the other was standing there the whole time? Who knows!

[soupinaboot]

X-files Steddie au when?

[oneforthemunny]

orrr maybe earlier in the relationship with Janitor Eddie, they go through a haunted maze/haunted house together

falling |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: a "haunted house" looks a little different at hawkins elementary's fall festival. apart of my spooky stories series <3

“Are you scared?” Eddie muttered, hands rubbing down your arms sweetly. 

“Terrified.” You grin, turning to look back at him. “Think I should use the bathroom now? Might pee on myself, I’ll get so scared.” 

A laugh bubbled up out of Eddie’s chest, dimples deepening with a stretched smile. “Yeah? Jeez, babe, now you’ve got me worried.” Eddie looked at the entrance of the small gym door- the old gym, from years and years before. The school still kept the building, used it for parties and storage- for the Haunted House during the Hawkins Elementary Fall Festival. 

“Didn’t know your kids were this scary.” Eddie hummed, stepping up slowly as the line moved. 

“Terrifying. You didn’t know?” You teased, eyes sparkling the way they always did when you joked with him. It made Eddie swoon. “Steve’s a lot braver than me. Offering to work it this year. He’s a Saint for that.” 

“Yeah, he is…” Eddie muttered, hands balling in his leather jacket pocket. He definitely did it out of the goodness in his heart, and not the thirty dollar bribe Eddie gave him so he could spend the night with you. 

“I’m excited to see it though.” You chirped. “They’ve been working so hard in art. We had to cut bats out the other day- do you know how hard it is to cut a bat with kiddie scissors?” 

“Never tried, but I can imagine.” Eddie smiled. “I don’t know how your fingers even fit in those. My hands cramp thinking about it.” 

“Years of practice.” You bump your hip playfully with his. “Pretty much an entire semester in college. I swear, all we did was cut construction paper and make arts and crafts for different projects. It was the best and the worst class. My hands were sticky for a semester.” 

“That’s… wow, actually now that you say that, I do remember Steve taking that class.” Eddie laughed, curls bouncing with every soft shake of his head. “He was always covered in glitter. Just unexplainably glittery.” 

You laughed, that crystal, beautiful laugh that had Eddie’s knees wobbling. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

It was your turn next, stepping up to the small box where a student and chaperone sat. Amanda, from your class. “There’s just two of us.” You grin at her. 

Her eyes flitted back from you and Eddie, grinning with her own excitement. “That’s two tickets.” She held her hand out, taking the tickets eagerly. The chaperone handed her the stamp, a scaredy cat outline in purple ink. She hesitated on Eddie’s hand, stamping it on his un-tattooed knuckles. 

You waved goodbye, arm snaking around Eddie’s, pushing the streamers to the side. “Guess the secret’s out.” You mutter, the stamp glowing in the black light of the dark room. 

“Guess so.” You could feel Eddie tense slightly, a shaky breath. “You-You’re cool with it?” 

You rolled your eyes lightly. “Eddie, I don’t care what my fourth graders think about my love life.” You shake your head. “We’re gonna be a hot topic at recess, that’s all.” 

“Yeah? Kinda boosts my ego.” Eddie puffed his chest out playfully. 

“I can tell.” You giggle. “Head’s getting bigger already.” 

“Could be my hair.” Eddie ran a hand down his curls. “Kinda hot in here. Think my curls are starting to frizz.” 

“I think they look good.” You hum, smoothing a sweet hand down the curly locks, still soft and clean from the shower he took earlier. His hair was damp when he picked you up, from a rushed shower and too impatient to let it dry all the way; too excited to see you. 

“Enter if you dare,” The dramatic, scary tone of Steve Harrington- in his Dracula ensamble- floated down the hallway. “And don’t touch, ok? Hands to yourself. Have a good time.” Steve nodded, letting the kids down the hallways, dark with animated, age appropriate scary sounds courtesy of the Halloween Screams CD playing on a loop. 

“Hey, you’ve been in here three times, and you only have one stamp. You sneaking in here or just not leaving?” Steve frowned, stopping the boy in the Donatello costume. 

You laughed, pulling Steve’s attention to you. He rolled his eyes. “Just- Last time or get in line like everyone else, alright?” Steve nodded towards the Ninja Turtle. 

“What? You’re not doing the voice for us?” Eddie grinned, brows raised in amusement. 

“Shut up, Munson.” Steve muttered, pulling the plastic fangs out of his mouth. “Shoulda charged you more.” 

Eddie glared at him, eyes cutting to you. You were too busy looking at the decorations, waving to your own excited students. “Wow, Harrington. This is very scary.” 

“Yeah? You jealous? Want to switch with me?” Steve snorted lightly. 

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “I would never want to deprive you of this. You’re really in your element.” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up you two. You’re doing the Christmas party. You think candy is bad? Wait until it’s candy, and hot chocolate, and winter break. See who’s laughing then.” Steve quipped, an eye roll that had both you and Eddie laughing, leaning in to each other. 

“Alright, go in. Don’t touch anything. These decorations are barely hanging on.” Steve pulled the curtain. 

You clung to Eddie’s arm- for your students, you told him, so they would think you were scared. Eddie didn’t mind, of course. He was more than happy to have you on his arm. Watching your exaggerated expressions, the kids' dramatic scares and giggles that followed when they saw it was you. For once, whispers following when he passed down the hallways didn’t bother him. They were different from the ones from years before, when he was in Hawkins Elementary as a student, a lanky, skinny boy with holes in his clothes; who never had a Halloween costume unless he made one, and then the kids made fun of him. 

He would have killed for a teacher like you. Someone who would’ve been kind to him. You brought in extra costumes, bought from the Salvation Army, put them in your treasure chest for the kids like him, who didn’t have a costume. You picked up shifts at Melvald’s to pay for extra things around the holidays, working on weekends and nights when you could for some extra money. Gave up your own time so your kids could be happy; it made Eddie’s head spin in the best way. 

You sat across from Eddie on the wooden picnic table, cradling the plastic tray of cut apples and caramel sauce. “So what’s your fall snack?” You ask, head tilting gently towards him. 

“My what?” Eddie blinked. 

“Your fall snack?” You grin, wiping your hands on the thin napkins. “Y’know, like when fall comes, what’s the one thing you crave? Like caramel apples or pumpkin bread…” 

Eddie smiled, he could feel himself blushing. He didn’t even know why he was blushing, yet the heat still rose from his chest and crept up his collarbones. He hoped you couldn’t see how flushed he was under the streetlights. 

“Uh, I don’t really… Oh, wait.” Eddie grinned. “Fried apple pie with vanilla ice cream.” 

“Fried apple pie?” You lifted a brow. 

“With vanilla ice cream.” Eddie nodded. “You ever had one?” You shook your head. 

“Oh, baby, I gotta take you. When I was little, Wayne would take me to this Amish grocery store out past the quarry. He always got a pie there for Thanksgiving, and he’d get me a fried apple pie and vanilla ice cream. I don’t even like vanilla, but with that? Life changing, baby.” Eddie grinned, sighing. It was heavy but not sad… nostalgic. 

“That sounds amazing.” You grin. “I love vanilla ice cream.” 

“I know.” Eddie smiled. He had remembered that. This summer, after a movie date, he’d taken you to an ice cream parlor. You’d sat in the booth, giggling over melting cones- your vanilla, his chocolate. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll have to take you sometime.” Eddie nodded, eyes cutting to you carefully. “If you want to.” 

“Yeah,” You smile, nodding. “We should go sometime. Bring Wayne back a pie.”

“God, he’d love that.” Eddie laughed. He’d love you even more than he already does, Eddie mused. The old man was already egging Eddie on, better buy her a ring, boy, she’s a keeper. Eddie knew you were. He’d started saving for rings after your second date, but he’d never tell you that. 

“Thanks for coming with me tonight.” You hum, your own smile small, a little shy. “I know this isn’t like a great date or anything, but my kids like to see me. I like to see them.” 

“No, it’s… I had fun- I’m having fun.” Eddie stuttered, a little nervous. Did he look like he wasn’t having fun? Fuck, he was, he really was. Maybe he should have played it up with the kids, he just didn’t want to take away from you. They were your kids and he’d never want to step in front of you, steal your moment. 

“Yeah?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. Eddie nods, brown eyes wide, curls bobbing. “I’m having fun with you too.” Eddie thought he might pass out. 

“They were so cute, all their little costumes.” You smile, chin resting on your palm. “They get to dress up two times so I know they’re just over the moon.” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Halloween party is Tuesday, right?” Eddie asked. He knew when it was, he was going to have to clean overtime for all the Halloween parties. 

You nodded. “I can’t wait for you to see my costume.” You grin, brows bouncing playfully at him. 

“I can’t either.” Your smile is contagious to Eddie, leaving him grinning and swooning. “You gonna go all in?” 

“No,” You shook your head. “Just a costume. Nothing fancy. The kids like it, so…” You trail off. “It’s not new or anything, I wear it every year, but you’ve never seen it so new to you.” 

“I can’t wait.” Eddie smiled, knee bouncing under the table. 

“Are you going to dress up?” You asked, lashes fluttering towards him sweetly. 

“No,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “I mean, I wasn’t going to. Don’t really have anything. Guess I could wear my Michael Myers mask with my coveralls?” 

You laugh. “Yeah, think you’d really scare the kids.” 

“That’s the point, right? What you’re supposed to do, right? Scare the shit out of them.” Eddie smirked. 

“Might get fired, but worth it, right?” You jest back. 

“Definitely worth it.” Eddie nodded. “Maybe I’ll wear the old coveralls in there. Say I’m dressing up as Sal.” 

You laugh. “That would be really funny, actually.” Your eyes shone under the lights, bright and dazzling back at Eddie. 

“Yeah? Alright, I’ll do it then.” Eddie nodded. “Sorry it’s not a surprise.” 

“That’s ok. Mine will be more than worth it.” You smile confidently at him. 

“I know it will be.” Eddie said quickly, eyes widening. Fuck, had he said that outloud? His eyes widened slightly, watching you carefully- bracing himself for the inward cringe, the snarl, things he was used to in the past. Not from you. No, all that came was a shy smile, chin ducking down to hide your flushing face. 

“You want one?” You ask, breaking the silence with the slide of your tray towards him. 

“I’m ok.” Eddie shook his head politely. 

“C’mon, I know you want one.” You press lightly. “You paid for them.” 

“Yeah, for you.” Eddie countered, giving you a pointed look. “But if you insist.” He hummed, grabbing a green apple, scooping a glob of caramel on it. 

“Would never want to deprive you.” You wink, and Eddie nearly chokes on the chewed apple he’s swallowing. 

One of your kids passes by, waving goodbye, holding their tired mom’s hand. You wave back politely to both of them. 

“Hey, uh,” Eddie starts, sweaty palms rubbing down his jeans. He knows it’s the end of the night. You don’t have any plans further, not yet anyways. “Do you- You like scary movies?” 

“Depends.” You hum, tossing the empty plastic away in the trash bin. “How scary are we talking?” 

“Not crazy.” Eddie slides in beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. The rides and music are dying down, the Hawkins’ PTA lingering behind with large trash bags, loading station wagons. “Pumpkinhead?” 

“Never seen it.” You shrug lightly. Eddie’s shoulders deflate, heart racing- should’ve said Carrie, he fuckin’ knew it. 

“But I’ll watch it with you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Your eyes meet his, grip tightening around your shoulders. 

“Are you sure?” Eddie falters. “I mean, I was just- we don’t have to.” 

“No, I think that sounds nice. Very on theme for the night.” You smile, leaning into his side, your steps in sync. “One condition, though.” 

Anything. “Yeah, what’s that?” Eddie swallowed, trying to fight back his smile. 

“I get to put M&Ms in the popcorn.” You point at him playfully. “Non-negotiable, Munson.” 

“Done.” Eddie shrugs, fishing for his keys. “M&Ms in popcorn, huh? You’re that typa girl?” Unlocking your door, pulling it open for you. 

“You know I am.” You quip, sliding under his open arm, tossing him a wink before he shut the door. 

Eddie was buzzing with excitement, a dopey smile on his face, too lovestruck to even care. An hour later, you were pressed into his side, head on his shoulder, a bowl of hot popcorn with M&M's scattered inside between the two of you. Eddie hoped you couldn’t feel how he got hard when your hands brushed in the bowl.

[glassofapplejuicee]

“What’s the matter pretty boy? Didn't you have ‘Billy Hargrove’s a dirty queer’ on your bingo card?”

OR After their fight at Tina’s Halloween party, Nancy is propositioned by the one and only, Billy Hargrove. Steve spots them and all hell almost breaks loose. But it appears that was all a part of Billy’s plan.

Halloween fic posted BEFORE Halloween, point 1 Apple

[afewproblems]

Part Two of this Kas!Eddie piece!

Steve does not sleep for the rest of the night.

He races around the house, checking every door and window, turning on every single light from the hallways and bedrooms to the kitchen. He walks past the basement door before tucking a dining chair underneath the handle for good measure, even Steve has seen enough horror movies to know that nothing good ever comes out of a basement in these situations. 

It’s almost four in the morning by the time he’s finished, but it doesn’t feel like it’s nearly enough and the sun won’t be up for at least another three hours at this time of year.

Steve has settled on the sofa in the living room, armed with a kitchen knife and a cup of coffee.

Frankly the coffee has helped to settle his nerves far more than the knife, but either way his heart rate has finally slowed down.

Steve yawns and shakes his head, putting the cup on the side table before slapping his cheeks with his hands lightly, he can’t fall asleep now, not again. 

He tries to think back to the legends his nonna used to tell him when Steve was a child, visiting his mothers parents. 

While Doreen would chastise her mother for filling Steve’s head with horrible make-believe tales from the ‘Old Country,’ Steve would sit there in awe every time his grandmother would spin another yarn. 

“Passero,” she would tell him, cupping his small face with curled arthritic hands, “this is our history, your mother has forgotten the old ways, but listen well and you will learn”.

The problem was, everything his grandmother had told him, had not prepared him to face a monster he knew by name.

Steve rubs his eyes as they begin to sting. 

This was his fault after all. 

***

“Steve, what are you doing?” Dustin shouts, his voice cracks as Steve lifts him up and loops an arm around Dustin’s torso. 

“We have to go Dustin--”

“Not without Eddie, you can’t leave him!” he shouts at Steve, his dark blue eyes shine as tears of frustration cut tracks through the blood and grime on his face, “we can, maybe we can carry him out?”

Nancy makes eye contact with Steve, at Dustin's words she withdraws her hand from Eddie’s bloodied pulse point and gives him the barest shakes of her head. Beside her, Robin makes a sound like the air has been punched from her chest, her eyes trained on Eddie’s still form. 

Robin had been right after all.

“Dustin listen to me,” Steve says, his voice shakes as he looks away from Nancy, “the gates are closing, there isn’t enough time”.

Steve swallows roughly as his eyes track back and forth between Dustin's own, “we’ll come back for him, I promise”. 

The words feel cold as they slip out, an awful lie. He knows full well they won’t be able to come back.

Dustin shakes his head violently, and tries to push away from Steve, “No! Get off me, Eddie!”

“I’m sorry Dustin,” Steve grunts as one of Dustin’s hands connects with the bites on his side, he pulls Dustin closer towards him and begins walking them forcefully towards the gate. 

The screams and cries from Dustin cut through him worse than any Demobat bite ever could.

***

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” a low rumbling voice whispers in his ear, Steve freezes as soft lips caress the lobe.

“I was dead after all,” he drawls as he steps down from where he was perched on the back of the sofa. Black claws shred the fabric and leave the same trail of oily stains as before, Steve flinches as taloned fingers caress his jaw.

Eddie’s black eyes stare unblinkingly, raking over Steve. It feels as though he’s being examined, analyzed.

“How are you doing that,” Steve whispers as Eddie steps around and crouches, bracketing Steve against the sofa cushions. It’s as though Eddie is anticipating exactly what he’s thinking.

“The Upside Down changed a lot of things about me Stevie,” Eddie chuckles, the laughter sounds more like a crackling growl from lurking predator, “wanna see?”

He grins widely, and Steve can’t help but flinch again at the sight of the rows and rows of pointed jagged teeth and a slick forked tongue which Eddie waggles at Steve.

He ignores the strange flip his stomach does at the sight, the same one he felt when Eddie called him, 'Big Boy,' in the RV.

“But you can read minds now? Thats not--”

“Not a normal vampire feat?” Eddie scoffs as he pushes himself away from Steve and stalks around the living room, “not something your family’s mentioned to you?” 

He laughs long and loud as Steve pales and shrinks farther into the cushions. The kitchen knife is still sitting beside him on the side table next to his abandoned coffee cup, if he could just--

“Oh Steve, Steve, Steve, how soon we forget,” Eddie hisses, letting his tongue curl around the words as he snatches the knife in his claws, “mind reader, remember?” 

“I didn’t even know you were into that sort of thing sweetheart,” Eddie hums holding up the knife between his clawed fingers as he shoots Steve a vile grin.

“We gotta work our way up to that,” he whispers, his face suddenly inches from Steve’s own.

Eddie tosses the blade away, it skitters across the floor into the kitchen, clacking loudly against the tile. 

“How did you even get in here,” Steve says boldly, his heart hammering against his ribcage as Eddie rubs his nose down Steve’s cheek, “you’ve never been invited in”.

Eddie’s face dips down, letting the long matted curls hang around them both as he sighs, “I think someone believed too many bedtime stories--”

“Then what are you, huh” Steve continues, adrenalin courses through him as he sits up farther into Eddie's space, “why are you here?”

Eddie tilts his head, the wide grin pulling at his pale lips falters slightly as he blinks once, twice.

His black eyes shift slightly, and for a moment his pallid grey face twists in something like fear as Eddie rears back and unfurls his wings. They're too large for the living room and knock into the lamp beside Steve, sending it to the ground.

The bulb flickers as it hits the carpet and Steve takes his chance.

He vaults back over the couch and races to the kitchen, ignoring the small, 'Steve, wait!' that trails after him before morphing into another low rumbling growl. 

But Steve had been on the track team during all four years of high school, it hadn't been as exciting as swimming or basketball but he was fast and he wasn't going to complain now with hell on his heels.

Steve makes it to the patio, he unbolts the door with shaking clumsy hands and wrenches it open, not bothering to close it behind him.

Steve leaps over the threshold, his heart in his throat, as a burst of cool night air hits his face. He sprints past the pool, nearly colliding with a lawn chair as he throws himself into the woods.

He never thought he would be grateful for the woods his home backed onto ever again after everything that happened with Barb and Will all those years ago, but for now he whispers a thank you to any diety bothering to listen for the shifting maze of trees he knows like the back of his hand.

"STEVE!" Eddie's roar echoes around the empty yard and through the woods.

Fuck.

Steve tears through the trees, uncaring of the branches the whip his face and the roots that catch his feet, he just has to make it to Hopper's cabin. 

If he can just make it to the cabin he'll--

"Oh Stevie," Eddies voice carries through the canopy above as great wings suddenly overtake him, "what are we going to do with you?"

Part Two for the awesome @steves-strapcollection I hope you enjoy!

Part three