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runraerun · 9 days ago

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ao3 • 6.1k • @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt: “Where did you find that costume?” • beta: @netflixandchilis 🧡🖤

Summary:

“This is not a sex costume.” Steve rolls his eyes, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a clown and you guys would accuse me of—”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows afterward.

His entire cop costume is suddenly off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson.

Or, unbeknownst to Steve, he shows up to Eddie’s Halloween party dressed as a stripper.

*Knock knock knock*

Steve steps back from Eddie’s front door, then rocks back on the heels of his boots that he hasn’t fully broken in yet. He knows that technically, he could just stroll into the trailer—he’s done it before after all, but sue him; he’s feeling playful tonight. And if there’s one night a year you’re allowed to embarrass yourself a little in the name of shits and giggles, it’s Halloween, right?

Steve had drawn the short straw between the four of them and was saddled with babysitting duty earlier tonight. As usual, Steve thinks with an amused sort of bitterness. Always the goddamn babysitter…

He’d just finished dropping the kids all off at Henderson’s house for a sleepover, but this was after they had forced him to trail after the lot of them for what felt like an eternity while they filled their pillow cases up with sugary garbage. Steve’s fucking exhausted.

When no one answers the door, Steve steps forward again, delivering three sharp knocks in quick succession.

“Hawkins PD, open up,” he bellows, giving what he considers is a fairly decent Hopper impression.

Steve’s skin prickles against a sudden cool breeze. He hooks his thumbs into his belt and waits on the creaky front porch, trying not to squirm against the wedgie that this outfit seems determined to give him.

Cheap ass costume…

The front door swings open, and Steve is suddenly bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the trailer’s interior. Robin, who has a football helmet on, along with some kind of orange jumpsuit with tubes wrapped around her torso, looks him up and down.

Before she can even say a single word though, Steve cuts her off, playing at arrogance.

“Got a couple of noise complaints, ma’am. Are your folks home? I’m gonna need—”

Robin holds her hands up with barely contained glee, “Wait wait, hold on! Just stay right there.”

The door slams shut in his face, leaving Steve in the darkness of the porch again. Through the door, Steve hears Robin yell for Eddie, but can’t make out much of the muffled voices after that.

Left on the porch with nothing but his thoughts Steve can’t help but wonder if Robin even recognized him. The fake stache wasn’t that convincing… was it?

“Man, c’mon…” Steve sighs, stepping forward and knocking again, this time with more force. He’s very quickly regretting his decision to ham it up as opposed to just walking in, kicking off the uncomfortable boots he’d been wearing all evening, and plopping down on Eddie’s lumpy, yet deceptively comfy sofa.

“C’mon, open up, Hawkins Police.” Steve calls again, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his voice.

In a blink, the door swings open again. Steve makes the extra effort to push his shoulders back and puff out his chest. This time, instead of Robin being the one haloed in the dingy light illuminating the trailer, it’s Eddie. A very confused, shockingly pale, cape-wearing Eddie.

Steve tilts his head back and peers down through his dark aviators at his friend, trying to maintain a stern, authoritative demeanor. His lip itches from underneath the stupid fake facial hair he’s got taped to his face. He can’t wait to rip the damn thing off.

Eddie grips the edge of the doorway, apparently stunned into silence.

“Sir, did you or anyone in this household place a call to 911 this evening?” Steve barks, trying his best to lean into his power-tripping asshole persona he’s decided to adopt.

“What the–” Eddie starts, but doesn’t seem to have any words to follow. His wide, dark eyes roam over the uniform and his twitching smile says enough.

Steve’s putting on a good show, it seems.

“Because it’s a criminal offense to prank call an emergency hotline, sir.” Steve leans forward, hoping for intimidation, “I could have you arrested.”

Steve suddenly becomes aware of Nancy and Robin both snickering in the background, watching the interaction with seemingly great interest. Eddie, for the most part, appears frozen at the door. It’s an odd bunch of reactions if Steve is being honest—he’s just dicking around, after all. Was he really being that out of pocket?

“Shteve, where in the fresh hell…?” A bewildered looking Eddie begins, his words slightly slurred, almost as if he has a lisp. Then Steve spots them; the sharp toothed plastic tray of vampire teeth that Eddie’s got stuffed into his mouth, making his lips pucker out just a bit. He looks ridiculous. If anyone should be laughing, it should be Steve. But instead of waiting for everyone to get their shit together, Steve forges on. He makes a show of sniffing the air. He slowly pulls the aviators down his nose to shoot Eddie a look. “Is that marijuana I smell, son? You kids smoking the devil’s lettuce in there?”

Robin sounds like she’s choking on something, Nancy’s all but retreated back into the trailer, unable to contain herself. Was it really that funny? Steve knows he can get the girls laughing on occasion, but he’s not like, a comedian or anything. And this cop bit he’s doing wasn’t even all that funny, even he can admit that. It’s just dorky fun. But Eddie’s shoulders are shaking and he’s giggling hard enough that he’s gone all quiet. Steve briefly wonders if he has something on his face…? Besides the stache, of course.

A particularly cool breeze hits his side, and he can physically feel himself break character as he brings his shoulders up to his ears in an attempt to brace against it. This cheap fucking costume does absolutely dick all to keep the cold out.

“Alright alright, jokes over, just let me in already.” But when Steve takes a step to pass through the door, Eddie quickly holds a hand to Steve’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. With his other free hand, he noisily pulls the vampire teeth from his mouth, a string of spit connecting the two until Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.

“Slow your roll, Sargent Cinnamon,” Eddie exclaims, barely able to contain his laughter to get the words out, “Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re gonna get the actual cops called on us.”

Sargent Cinnamon?

Steve takes off his aviators, perplexed. “What? Why?”

“Just—just turn around for me for a minute.” Eddie says. His hand falls from Steve’s chest as Steve begrudgingly takes a step back.

“Yeah, give us a spin, Steve.” Robin calls from the kitchenette, and Eddie gives a noisy laugh through his nose in what looks like a failed attempt to withhold a full on fucking belly laugh from escaping.

“Why?” Steve makes a face as he asks again, defenses up.

“We just have to confirm something.” Eddie says, playing coy.

Now that Steve’s really looking at him, he can see Eddie’s clearly dressed as a vampire. He’s all in black, though most of him is covered up by the long, heavy looking cape that’s tied around his shoulders and draping down his back. The collar of it looks stiff, its points reach damn near up to his cheekbones. His eyes are rimmed with dark makeup, making them pop even more than they usually do. Most striking of all though, is the white makeup that’s smeared all over his face, down his neck, and even over his mouth. It makes for a shock when he speaks or laughs, the deep red of the inside of his mouth contrasting sharply with the undead paleness of the rest of his face.

He looks… good. Spooky, but good. Especially now that those chunky fake fangs are out. Maybe Steve should have dressed as something spooky too…

“C’mon, just let me in. I don’t wanna spin.” Steve frowns. He does not pout. His lip may or may not jut out the tiniest of amounts. But Steve Harrington does not pout.

Eddie’s brows pinch together in mock sympathy, “oh, I’m so sorry Officer, but in that case, we’re gonna need you to come back with a warrant.”

Steve sighs. He’s cold, annoyed, and he’s pretty sure there’s two big watery blisters on the backs of his heels that’ll need patching up before the night is out. “Dude–”

Eddie holds out a finger, silencing Steve, “ah ah ah. You don’t get to show up here dressed like that and not put on a show.”

Steve’s brain stutters to a halt. “...I’m just dressed as a cop. What’s the big deal? Why’re you guys acting so weird?”

“Less yapping, more spinning, Deputy.” Eddie smiles wide, tilting his head. Despite being a total shithead at the moment, that smile never seems to fail at making Eddie look strangely endearing. It’s like a trap—one Steve always seems to be tumbling into as of late.

He gives a noisy groan of frustration to show exactly how ridiculous he thinks this whole thing is, before he complies and slowly turns around on the spot. Steve puts out his arms in defeat, suppressing yet another urge to dig at the wedgie now firmly up his ass. “There. Happy? Any more questions or demands?”

“Yeah, just the one,” Eddie says, seeming no less entertained than if Steve had just burped the whole alphabet backwards while simultaneously juggling a set of kitchen knives. “Where did you find that costume?”

Steve feels his neck go red, then his ears. He stuffs his hands under his armpits to try and warm them up, then shrugs defensively, not fully knowing why he is so embarrassed, only that he is. “Just a regular costume store.”

“What store exactly?” Robin calls from behind Eddie while she nurses a beer, “was there, oh, I don’t know, lingerie in the window of this costume store?”

And with that, there’s simply no helping it; Steve’s face goes scarlet. “No! It was just that pop-up Halloween store—the one next to Family Video. Robin, you went there too, what’s the big deal?”

“Did you happen to have crossed a beaded doorway in order to get to this costume by any chance?” Eddie asks in mock curiosity, barely withholding more of his obnoxiously loud laughter.

Steve opens his mouth to deny the downright weird accusation but… thinking back on it, he may have hit some beads at a certain point while he was in that shop.

Oh God…

“There’s that lightbulb,” Eddie gives a smarmy type of smile, “knew it would turn on eventually.”

Steve casts a glare between Eddie and Robin. They’re just poking fun at him, surely. If he’s being honest, he’s sort of sick of them ganging up on him lately. It’s like, all of the sudden, Eddie and Robin had just decided to become besties. They were always whispering and sharing these weird, heated looks between the two of them, ones Steve could never interpret. Like they suddenly had a whole slew of inside jokes that they refused to let Steve in on. It was infuriating!

If he didn’t know for a fact that there was no possibility of a romance between the two of them he would think they were hooking up. But no, apparently they’ve just bonded over their shared love of torturing ex-jocks. It’s like fucking Revenge of the Nerds out here.

“This is not a sex costume.” he growls, bunching his shoulders up just a little in an attempt to keep the breeze away from his neck.

“Steve,” Eddie’s voice goes soft, as if he’s opting to break the news to Steve gently, “you’re dressed as a stripper, man.”

“No, I’m not!” Steve shouts before he thinks better of it. He reels it in, but only a little, “It’s just… I’m just a cop. Okay, maybe it’s a sexy cop, but it’s just a stupid joke costume! It’s not my fault the outfit looks good on me, alright? That doesn’t make it a stripper outfit.”

Eddie nods empathetically, “right right, sure.”

“It’s true!”

“Totally, yeah.”

“I’m being serious!”

“Oh, I know you are.”

“It’s just a little tight is all.”

“I’ll say.”

Steve huffs, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a goddamn clown and you guys would accuse me of–”

Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows directly afterward.

The entire front of his cop costume is off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson. And without the support of the front piece, Steve feels the entire back half of his costume follow suit, slipping down and off of his shoulders. Humiliatingly, the only reason it doesn’t hit the ground altogether is because the fabric is so securely lodged in between Steve’s ass cheeks.

Either way, he’s standing there, on the Munson’s front porch, in front of Eddie, in nothing more than his bright red boxers that he put on this morning, his uncomfortable fucking boots, his fake stache, and the octagonal police cap he’s got resting atop his head.

Eddie takes a deep breath, not even bothering to try and hide the way he’s basking in Steve’s utter humiliation. “Well well well. Looks like Christmas came early this year, huh?”

Robin at least has done him the good favor of collapsing somewhere in the living room, shrieking in laughter.

“Wh–Why would you do that!?” Steve clumsily grabs for the cap atop his head before holding it to his crotch in a flimsy attempt to preserve at least some of his dignity.

“Honestly? Because I don’t have a lot of impulse control,” Eddie admits truthfully, “but mostly I did it to prove to you that you did, in fact, show up to my party dressed as a stripper.”

Steve’s had enough. He grumbles out every single curse word he knows and shoulders his way into the trailer, yanking the remainder of the costume off of his body and out of his ass as he goes. If Steve was cold before, he’s freezing now. His nipples could cut fucking glass.

“Don’t tell me you took the kids out trick or treating in this.” Eddie says, motioning towards him with the bundle of thin fabric that had been, up until a few seconds ago, Steve’s costume.

Steve snatches the dark blue remains of his outfit, suddenly furious. He’s sure his face matches the red of his boxers at this point. Boxers that are now on display for all to see, apparently!

He reaches up to angrily tear off the mustache from his upper lip, and has to bite back an honest to god scream as it tears away, taking some of his actual lip hair with it. It was like a fucking wax strip!

“You did.” Eddie gasps, all but clutching his damn pearls, utterly scandalized. “You really went around and gave the good folks of Hawkin’s a free fucking show tonight, huh? Jesus Christ, Harrington, you probably sent some poor fucker out there into cardiac arrest!”

“No, I–” Steve sputters, “well, yes, I wore the cop costume while I took the kids around a couple of neighborhoods, but there wasn’t any kind of show.”

“Were the mothers especially kind to you, Stevie?” Robin asks from her position on the sofa beside Nancy, one sandy brown brow arched. “Did they give you extra candy?”

“One, I didn’t go trick-or-treating, so I didn’t get any candy at all,” Steve says, suddenly reluctant about taking his boots off, wary of losing any more of his clothing. As he speaks, he shuffles behind the countertop in the kitchen area instead, hiding at least his lower half from further attention. Everyone had already seen his hairy chest plenty of times, but still. It was the indignity of it all! “And two, I didn’t know it was a stripper costume. And three, screw all of you.”

Thank Christ the kids seemed oblivious to that sort of thing still. Steve’s as relieved at preserving their innocence as he is grateful they didn’t bear witness to his great blunder.

“Didn’t it feel weird when you had to velcro the sides shut..?” Nancy asks, sheer amusement playing across her features.

“Well, in hindsight… yes.” Steve has to stop speaking because all three of his so-called friends dissolve in further fits of laughter. He has to shout to be heard over their cackling, “but I just thought it was because the costume was cheap!”

“Oh, Steve.” Nancy shakes her head, still giggling. She sounded a little drunk.

“Sweet, naive Dingus.” Robin adds, as if she were finishing her girlfriend's thoughts.

So now Nancy and Robin were ganging up on him too. And after Steve gave Robin his blessing to date his ex-girlfriend! Traitors, all of ‘em, Steve thinks haughtily as he crosses his arms and glares.

“C’mon big boy, you can borrow something of mine.” Eddie says, finally deciding to take pity on Steve. “Unless, of course, you want me to help velcro your ass back into that little number..?”

That’s the absolute last thing he wants. So, with an angry grumble, Steve accepts Eddie’s offer for clothes and follows him down the narrow hallway, into his bedroom. Steve all but collapses on the end of Eddie’s unmade bed, snatching a pillow and holding it to his lap as he watches Eddie dig around his dresser drawers.

Steve notices that Eddie’s oddly quiet now that they’re alone.

Steve was sort of used to Eddie’s constant prattling on when they were together—so much so, that the lack of it seems unnatural in its own sort of way. It’s damn near unsettling to be near Eddie and not have him chewing his ear off.

Eddie pulls some soft, gray clothing from his drawers, attempts to discreetly give it the cautionary sniff test, then turns to offer them up to Steve. “Here, these, uh, they should fit you. Elastic waistband.”

“Thanks.” Steve mumbles, still a little pissed at Eddie for the whole tearing him out of his clothes thing. To be fair, Steve would have probably returned the favor if the roles had been reversed and would have laughed just as hard. Maybe harder.

He shoves the shirt on, then discards the pillow in order to stand and attempt to rid himself of the godforsaken boots from hell... Steve is unnervingly aware that the red of his underwear stands out like a fucking fire engine.

Eddie turns his painted face away, suddenly very interested in the various posters on his wall.

“Oh, sure, now you’re shy.” Steve snorts, but when he steps on the backs of his heels in an effort to toe off his boots, he sucks in a sharp breath and wobbles back onto the bed, cursing. The sharp stinging pain from the blisters is enough to cut his breath. “Shit, shit, shit–”

“What is it? What happened?” Eddie’s full attention is back on Steve, and Steve’s insides squirm a little at the intensity of it. He kind of loves that about Eddie; how he can be flighty and erratic one minute, but wholly and completely laser focused on something the next.

And Steve is man enough to admit that he sort of likes it when that undivided attention lands on him. Admittedly, he likes it when anyone pays attention to him, but… it’s different with Eddie. Even Steve’s not entirely sure why. It just makes him feel… seen, maybe. Special. Understood?

Steve doesn’t fucking know. He gives his head a shake.

“It’s just these stupid boots. I’ve only worn them a few times and they always give me blisters. I shouldn’t have worn them tonight but I just thought they went good with the outfit...” Steve explains, as if it’s a confession. The price of vanity, he thinks bitterly. Steve lifts one of his feet until it’s propped up his opposite knee and begins working the boot off, flinching as he goes, “they’re just stinging a little, it’s fine.”

“I’ll get some band-aids.” Eddie mutters as he darts out of the room, nearly tripping over something in his haste. Steve can hear him digging through the cupboard in the bathroom through the paper-thin walls of the trailer. Eddie sounds like a goddamn tornado. But hey, what’s new? Dude is tornado incarnate.

By the time Eddie’s back, armed with a battered box of band-aids and a tube of Neosporin, Steve’s already managed to work off a boot and peel away one of his socks. He’s poking the painful, fluid-filled blister with a grimace.

“Here.” Eddie awkwardly passes both of the items to Steve. He practically shoves them into his hands. Steve accepts them all with a quick thanks and gets to work. He half expects Eddie to go and just leave Steve to it, but he doesn’t. Instead, Eddie just stands there, hovering in the middle of his bedroom, staring like a weirdo.

Which sounds harsh even in Steve’s own mind, but there really was no mistaking it; Eddie most definitely is a full-blown, bonafide, one-of-a-kind weirdo. But as time’s gone on, and the further Steve’s gotten away from high school, the more he’s realized that his favorite people in the whole world—the ones he’d lay down his life for any day of the fucking week—are all freaks and weirdos. And maybe that made him a weirdo freak right alongside them. And hey, if all the best people were weird, shouldn’t he be proud to be counted among them?

Steve finds he doesn’t entirely hate the concept.

“You must think I’m a moron, huh?” Steve mutters as he smears some of the antiseptic cream over the blister, then a band-aid overtop, flinching the whole way through.

“For getting a blister? Or for accidentally cosplaying as a sex worker?” Eddie asks, grinning. Knows he’s being a cheeky little shit.

Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes, “it could’ve happened to anyone, y’know. The costume thing, I mean.”

He settles his bare foot on the ground and starts on his next boot.

“Maybe. But it’s funny because it happened to you.” Eddie aims a set of finger guns at him. Steve, despite himself, chuckles a little under his breath. It was sort of funny.

“I don’t, though, by the way.” The couple of words tumble out of Eddie’s mouth. Steve knows by now that when he isn’t following Eddie, all he usually needs to do is wait a few seconds. Eddie never seems to mind taking the time to further explain himself to Steve, unlike most other people. So, Steve just spares him a glance and waits. “Think you’re a moron, I mean. You’re just… more of a do first, think later kinda guy. It doesn’t make you dumb. Maybe a little foolhardy, is all.”

“Foolhardy?” Steve’s hands stop what they’re doing as he looks up at Eddie. Steve’s pretty sure he knows what it means, but who the hell throws around digs like that?

Well, come to think of it, Eddie Munson would. Between writing his own songs and making up those D&D campaigns, Eddie’s inner voice probably speaks to him in sonnets and soliloquies.

“It’s a good thing—well, it is when I say it…” Eddie rushes to explain, but seems to abandon a few trains of thoughts before shaking his head, “whatever, nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“I know what foolhardy means I just–” Steve doesn’t have any fight in him though, too focused on how fucking painful this blister is compared to the last. The sharp sting was enough to make his eyes embarrassingly prickle. “Fuuuuuck…” he groans as he pulls.

“Stop, stop, just–” Eddie kneels, taking a knee, before he grabs Steve’s boot.

“No no, Eddie, don’t–!” Steve shrieks, suddenly terrified of Eddie’s jumpy, erratic movements he’s known for. His foot can’t fucking take it…

“Calm down, I’ll pull it off slow. I’ll even give you a countdown. You just–just relax, alright?” Eddie says, looking downright ridiculous in his costume. And yet, despite how crazy he looks, Munson seems sincere. He liked to poke fun at Steve, sure, but Eddie wouldn’t hurt him. Steve knows that. And when Eddie’s fingers curl around the back of his calf, the touch is gentle. Steve’s skin heats underneath Eddie’s hold. It’s enough to make his head go a little fuzzy.

Trying to follow Eddie’s instruction, Steve hesitantly leans back on the heels of his hands, allowing his leg to go slack in Eddie’s grip. “Relax. Right. Okay.”

“Alright. My safe word’s Ronald Reagan, but you can borrow it for tonight if you want me to stop, cool?” Eddie looks up at him through his lashes. The liner around his eyes was really something else… And his hair looked especially poofy tonight. Like Steve’s hands could get lost in there. Were those plastic spiders in his hair? God, Steve hoped they were plastic spiders…

A beat passes before Steve’s brain catches up with him. “Why the hell is Ronald Reagan your safe word?”

“Because nothing kills my boner faster than thinking about that dickwad. Duh.” Eddie explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, but Steve wasn’t exactly experienced with things like safe words and… well, the things that normally go along with safe words.

He feels himself shift anxiously at the idea. He wondered if Eddie was just making a joke or if he actually…

“Ready?” Eddie interrupts and utterly derails that particular train of thought. He’s cradling Steve’s booted foot, one hand low on Steve’s calf, the other gripping the bottom of the boot. Real comforting like.

Steve takes a quick breath before giving a sharp nod. “Ready.”

“3, 2, 1, deep breaths everyone!” Eddie says, and true to his word, he pulls off slowly, trying to angle the boot away from Steve’s heel as best he can. Steve clenches his teeth through the whole thing, determined not to utter the president's name. “Aaaaand we’re done!” Eddie says triumphantly.

Steve sighs, and lets himself fall onto the bed in relief. He’s built up a bit of a tolerance for pain over the past few years (purely out of necessity), but he still fucking hates it. Even if it’s something small like this. Call him a pussy for it, whatever. Steve doesn’t care.

When he feels Eddie begin peeling off his sock though, Steve bolts upright, returning to his seated position. “Y-you don’t gotta do that part–”

Eddie shrugs nonchalantly and continues peeling away the sock. “It’s okay, I wanna help.”

“My feet probably fucking reek, dude. I’ve been wearing those all day.” Steve wrinkles his nose. The idea that Eddie could possibly be repulsed by him in some way just doesn’t sit right with Steve. “You don’t–... I-I can do this part.”

“I told you, I don’t care.” Eddie says as he peels away Steve’s sweaty, ripe sock before sticking it into the no doubt equally sweaty, ripe boot.

Eddie's now kneeling in front of a pantless and sockless Steve—to say he felt exposed would be an understatement. He watches as Eddie takes the tube of Neosporin in hand and squeezes out a glob onto his finger and lines it up with Steve’s heel.

“Unless,” Eddie halts, as if an idea had just occurred to him, “unless you don’t want me to.”

The two of them just stare at one another for a few seconds, as if they’re both just realizing that they don’t really know the limits of their friendship yet. Both of them seem to be asking the other for permission to cross some kind of a line that they don’t know even exists or not. It should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t. It’s a little uncomfortable, sure, but… exciting, in a weird way.

Steve swallows, “no, I want you to. I mean, if you want to, of course. I—”

I like it when you touch me.

The thought hits Steve with such a sudden and sharp clarity that for a second he’s not sure if he’s said it out loud or not.

But if Eddie somehow heard it, he doesn’t let on.

Instead, the sides of his mouth twitch into a tentative grin, but then Eddie ducks his head before Steve can watch it blossom fully into a smile, though he can tell by the way his cheeks rise near his eyes that it indeed does.

Eddie smears the antiseptic cream on Steve’s blister with guitar string scarred fingers, with more care than most people bother using when they reach for Steve. Then he wipes his hands on his own bed sheets before unpeeling a bandaid from its wrapping and laying it overtop of everything. He smooths a finger overtop of it, once, then twice for good measure. Why Eddie runs his finger over the band-aid a third time, Steve hasn’t got a clue.

There’s something about the way Eddie so can flip the switch from being a loud, boisterous, all out terror of a human being, to this sincere, gentle… almost sweet person. It’s hard for Steve to wrap his head around. Especially since Eddie doesn’t show the second side nearly as often as the first–and only to a lucky handful of people. Steve’s one of those happy few.

It’s like a secret Eddie.

Steve briefly wonders if there’s a secret Steve, but if there is, not even he knows about him. Steve has a feeling he’s more of a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda guy. Hopefully, that doesn’t mean he’s shallow.

And just when Steve thinks Eddie’s done with him, the guy spins around and rummages in his top drawer for a few seconds before turning back with a rolled up set of fresh socks for Steve. Without a word, he kneels and begins putting them on Steve’s foot for him.

Which…

Honestly, Steve doesn’t know how to feel about it. Good, obviously. That much, at least, is crystal fucking clear. But there’s more. Like the fluttery sort of warmth that comes specifically when someone brings you a bowl of hot soup when you’re sick, or cares enough to hold your hair back for you while you puke your guts out after drinking too much. It’s that same sort of feeling. Only more.

“Thanks, man.” Steve says, utterly relieved his voice comes out sounding steadier than he’s feeling. Because… Well, because no one takes care of Steve, except Steve. It’s been that way since he was old enough to tie his own shoes. He’s always on his own. Self-sufficient. Steve takes a sort of pride in it.

But here’s Eddie, on his knees, tending to him, even though Steve can do it perfectly fine on his own. He’s still doing it for Steve, and for the hell of him, Steve can’t wrap his head around why. And all of it over some stupid blisters. It makes Steve’s chest ache, fixing to burst.

“No problem, Officer. Just doing my civic duty.” Eddie’s tone is soft when he flicks his eyes up briefly, paired with a grin. He finishes putting the fresh set of socks on Steve’s feet, careful to avoid the blisters. The socks are pilled, and scratchy, as if neither Wayne nor Eddie bothers with fabric softener, but they’re comfortable enough and blissfully warm.

“Well the city of Hawkins thanks you too, Mr. Munson.” Steve replies with a two fingers salute, attempting to match Eddie’s energy, but the words sound so deeply stupid when they’re strung together like that, that it has them both chuckling.

“Christ, you’re cute.” Eddie mutters, dragging a knuckle under his eye to clear away the stray tear that had formed from all of the laughing he’s done tonight. Then Steve watches as that easy smile that he had just been so admiring quickly fall away as Eddie seems to realize what he’d just said.

Eddie thinks he’s cute?

The question of what kind of cute he was referring to bombards Steve's brain. Cute could mean a hell of a lot of things—from puppies with big wet eyes to Michelle Pfeiffer in a skin tight leotard. Or maybe Eddie didn’t mean to say cute at all. Yeah, maybe it just slipped out. Hell, maybe Eddie’s just high. He does get a little extra tactile and emotional when he’s high. And Eddie definitely smells like weed, but—well, Eddie always smells like weed.

“Here’s your–” Eddie suddenly stands, cape fluttering behind him, and tosses the sweatpants from earlier back at Steve who catches it with ease, despite the newly unmoored feeling he’s got in his gut. Steve suspects Eddie’s blushing by the way he’s holding himself, but because of all the makeup, Steve can’t be sure. Eddie anxiously twists his rings around his fingers muttering a quiet, “sorry, man.”

It’s said so timidly that Steve almost misses the tacked-on apology entirely. Now, timid isn’t usually something that Steve would associate with Eddie Munson but, well, there it is. And despite their playful back and forth with one another, Steve can tell this is wholly different. He doesn’t—can’t leave Eddie standing there with egg on his face.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not—it’s whatever, dude.” Steve says, forever baffled at how the English language, the only language he even knows and is apparently fluent in, still manages to sound like knotted garbage when it comes out of his mouth. He shoves his legs through the sweatpants, yanking them up to his waist.

Eddie seems to get it though, thankfully. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve says, quick, casual-like.

Eddie chews on his lip. “I didn’t make it weird?”

At this, Steve barks out a laugh. Because, yeah but… well, if Eddie started going around apologizing every time he did something weird the guy would never stop apologizing.

And Steve likes Eddie’s flavor of weird anyway.

“Hey, I’m the one who showed up to your house dressed as a stripper, didn’t I? If anyone’s made it weird tonight, it’s me.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, briefly concerned about how the stupid hat probably left an embarrassing indent where it was sitting.

Eddie’s wide smile is back, the one that lines his face and makes his eyes do that starlight thing. “That’s true.” He chuckles.

“I like your costume though.” Steve grins, feeling that fluttery feeling in his chest when he gets Eddie smiling like that. “Vampire, right?”

If possible, Eddie’s eyes widen further, giving him a manic look. He hastily pats his various pockets before finding his fake fangs and shoving them into his mouth. They look terrible, but admittedly, they sort of complete the overall look.

“That’s Count Dracula to you, foolish mortal.” Eddie says with a truly terrible Transylvanian accent as he dramatically swishes his cape over one of his arms, then positions it underneath his kohl-rimmed eyes.

Steve pretends to cower, but he’s always been kind of a shitty actor so he just ends up snorting and shaking his head. “Terrifying. If you hadn’t torn it off me earlier, I’m sure I would have shivered right out of my uniform.”

And again, it’s enough for Eddie to break character and bark out a laugh around his plastic fangs. He recovers quickly though, a smile still pulling at the sides of his mouth.

“C’mon, the girlsh have probably put the movie on without ush.” Eddie says with a very distinct lisp. It’s sort of adorable.

It’s profoundly less adorable after Steve hears how Eddie needs to suck back the spit trapped between his teeth and the tray so he doesn't drool all over himself.

Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t end up wearing the fake fangs for the whole movie, especially not after Nancy demands their removal after two or three noisy, spit-retrieving sucks. There’s some petty back and forth that lasts a couple of seconds, but it’s settled quickly and amicably, as most of their squabbles are.

Steve and Eddie spend the majority of the horror flick pressed up against one another, from shoulder to knee. Steve’s not entirely sure what the hell is happening between them, but whatever it is… it’s nice.

And when there’s a particularly scary bit that makes Steve nearly jump out of his skin, Eddie teases him and slaps a patronizing hand to his knee just to further torment him, but it’s the damnedest thing. Even after the joke’s over, and their collective focus is back (in theory) on the movie, Eddie just… doesn’t take his hand back. Neither one of them seems keen on addressing it either, afraid to spook whatever it is away.

They stay that way for the rest of the movie. He doesn’t risk putting his hand over top of Eddie’s—he can’t. Not yet, at least. But Steve will think about little else besides the feeling of Eddie’s warm hand curled around the top of his knee, searing into him like a brand, for many nights to come.

It’s hands down the most embarrassing Halloween Steve’s ever had—but it’s also kinda the best, thanks to Eddie.

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justmeinadaze · 5 months ago

Text

Created a Monster (Steddie X Kas Y/N)

Every time I hear this song this idea pops into my head but it's not what I'm used to writing per say. I wanted you guys to read like a preview and tell me if this is something you'd want more of or a one shot. Or whatever lol Just some feed back :) It's been sitting in my WIP forever but I can't stop thinking about it.

Warning: Steddie X Kas Fem Reader, mentions of grief and how much the boys miss her, I twisted some things from the show obviously. Instead of Eddie fighting, Y/N does. I also read up a bit on Kas so took some lore there. Not really expanded on in this preview but...

Word Count: 1956

Eddie and Steve stare at your gravestone as the preacher continues to spout some nonsense about young souls being angels on Earth and being called back home. No one understood what they were going through not even their friends they had fought with. You were their everything and now… you were gone.

Steve and Robin sat in the cafeteria of the hospital picking at their food as they waited for Eddie to join them. For the past four months they had been visiting Max while continuing to be moral support for Lucas. Neither boy would let on how jealous they actually were of the former Hellfire member. At least he could still hold his girlfriend’s hand…see her face…kiss her cheek.

“The doctor’s said she’s showing improvement.”, Robin mused as she took a bite of bland rice in front of her.

“That’s good. She’s a good kid who’s been through too much. She deserves to have a full life.”

His friend nods in understanding, scanning Steve over before reaching for his hand.

“This is a stupid question but how are you doing?”

“I’m, um, I’m surviving. Eddie’s trying to keep it together for the guys but we’re both kind of floundering.”, he chuckles as he places his fork down and leans back. “I miss her laugh. Every time Munson would tell a joke, she would close her eyes and scrunch her nose… so cute.”

“Yeah, she was.”, his friend softly murmured. “She loved you two more than anything. Y/N would talk about you both nonstop to an annoying degree.”

When Robin playfully rolls her eyes, they both laugh almost uncontrollably until his gradually shift into sobs. Rising to her feet, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and in turn he does the same, his fingers digging almost painfully into her back.

“I miss her so much.”

***

When both boys finally made it back home, Eddie silently flopped down on the couch as he grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Since your passing, the metalhead had moved into the living room since their apartment only had one bedroom. Without you between them they saw no point in sharing anymore. Steve never said anything to contradict but he wished his friend had stayed. Even though they were never intimate in the dynamic, he would have rather shared a bed with his friend than be alone. It was just more of a reminder that you were gone.

“Another group of men were found dead today outside of their homes, stabbed through the chest, and with nothing stolen or motive perceived from Hawkins PD. We reached out to reinstated Chief Hopper for comment but at this time none was given.”

“Something we should be worried about you think?”, Steve asked as he came up behind his friend to watch the tv.

“I mean, as long as they aren’t blaming me, I’d say no.”

“It doesn’t seem like Vecna either. No broken bones or eyes caved in—” Rising to his feet, Eddie hastily turned off the tv and reached for his jacket. “Eddie—”

“I agree. No Vecna. I’m, um, I’m going to go for a walk.”

“Is this how it’s always going to be?! Are we just going to be awkward around each other now? She wouldn’t have wanted that, Ed.”

A smooth, sarcastic laugh escaped the metalhead’s lips as he turned to face his friend.

“Yeah? Well, I wanted her here and she’s fucking dead. We both don’t get what we want.”

“So, you’re just going to sully her memory like that?”

“Oh, fuck you, Harrington! She’s the one that ran off even though I told her not to move. She’s the one that decided to fight instead of listening to you and not being a hero. She’s the one who DIED IN MY FUCKING ARMS!” As his voice cracked, he paused to collect himself. “Y/N’s gone. She doesn’t get a say anymore.”

With that he turned on his heels and slammed the door.

“He’s always been really hot headed hasn’t he?”, the vision of you giggles as you kick your feet against the counter.

Steve never told anyone for fear of coming off as insane but this is how he processed you no longer being around; he pretended you weren’t gone.

“Yeah, just like you.”

“Excuse me! I was stubborn but not ‘hot headed’, jerk.”

His head hung at the word “was” as his bottom lip began to tremble. Jumping off the counter, you slide over till you were just inches from his side. Even though you weren’t really there, he swore he could smell you.

“Steve, baby, look at me. He’ll be ok… you both will.”

Shaking his head, he wiped the tears that had begun to fall but when he moved his hands away the image of you disappeared.

“I love you, honey. I miss you so much.”

############

Eddie pulled his hood over his head as he powerwalked in what he thought was no particular direction. Even after being exonerated people still scowled and hurled insults his way. The ones that hurt him the most were the ones about you.

Because they couldn’t bring your body back, it was assumed you had died with everyone else. Your family still held on to hope but in the worst way. You parents used to love him and Steve, treating them both like family but after Chrissy’s death everything shifted. They told you to stay away from him and in turn you told them to fuck off.

Anytime they saw Eddie, they begged him to tell them where you were or where your body was so they could properly grieve. He ignored them as best he could but it killed him because he knew the truth. That’s something he and Nancy could connect on. Every time she told him about her experiences with Barb it comforted him to an extent. He hoped one day he could give them peace like her friend’s parents got.

Stumbling over his feet, the metalhead finally took note of his surroundings realizing he had walked to Hawkins Cemetery. Sighing heavily, he gave in and let his feet continue to lead him till he was in front of your plot.

“Y/N Y/L/N. 1986. Loving Friend, Daughter, and Girlfriend.”

“Fucking basic shit. You were way more than that.”, he grumbled as he took a seat facing your stone.

“I’m angry with you; so fucking angry. I told you to go up the rope but you insisted I go so I could catch you like Steve had. I should have known better. How could you do that? How could you leave us like that?!”

“I didn’t do it by choice.”, the vision of you replied in a sad but calm tone as you sat on top of your own stone. Eddie’s jaw tightened as he looked in the opposite direction. “Still ignoring me?”

“You’re not real.”

“True…but it helps Steve. At least that’s what you hope after hearing him talk out loud to me the other night. He really hates being alone, you know? He wants to talk to you but—”

“I can’t talk about you with people. Not yet.”

“Ok, then don’t talk about me. Maybe talk about D&D or Steve’s day. Anything else. Eddie, just because I’m gone doesn’t mean you two stop being friends.”

“Don’t preach to me, babe. I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you want to hear?”

“Nothing. That’s all I ever fucking hear now. I don’t hear your stories about work or your family. I don’t hear you laughing at my jokes or your sarcasm when you’re making fun of Steve for his lack of movie knowledge. I don’t hear your fucking breath in the middle of the night when you’re sleeping or see you bite your lip when you’re thinking about something complicated. I don’t feel your fingers in my hair when I’m lying on the floor listening to music or your lips against mine. Why, Y/N? Because you’re fucking DEAD!”

The vision of you watched with sympathetic eyes as his shoulders shook and he sobbed in his hands. After a few minutes, he wiped his nose on his sleeve, finding you sitting cross legged in front of him with your knees inches from his own.

“I don’t know how to live without you, sweetheart.”

“Eddie… I never loved anyone on this planet as much as I loved you and Steve. If it meant keeping you both safe…I would die again.”

“It was our job to protect you.”

“And you did such an amazing job.”

Shaking his head, he glanced towards a tree in the distance before turning your way to find you gone.

“I love you, baby.”

################

Steve’s eyes snap open at the sound of glass breaking before quickly grabbing his bat and slowly stalking to the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ!”

“I just go by Eddie but…” They both exasperatedly laughed as the other boy lowered his weapon. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I just left the cemetery and I didn’t realize it was so fucking late.”

“Did, um, were you going to see her?”

He could have responded sarcastically but your words lingered in his mind.

“Yeah… I just needed to hash some things out with her.”

“I know how you feel. Sometimes I get really angry at her to but then I get confused because I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Yeah.”, Eddie laughs as well. “Fuck, this sucks.”

As his friend nodded, a shadow on the wall caught the former jocks attention. It looked like a figure but that can’t be right because they were on the fourth floor of their complex. Just as he began to glance to find out what it was, their window shattered causing both men to fall to the ground and cover their heads.

Steve recovered first, swiftly grabbing his bat and blocking the weapon that begun to swing down towards the metalhead. To his surprise it did stop it but as soon as he pushed the figure back, the bat cut cleanly in half. It took him a few seconds to realize the stranger in front of him was wielding a sword causing him to duck out of the way as the person continued swinging it at him.

While trying to find something to defend himself with, he heard Eddie call his name and turned just in time to see him slide another sword his way.

“Isn’t this fake?!”

“Please! We’re nerds! Do you think Y/N and I would buy anything fake!?”

Just as Steve unsheathed the weapon, it clinked loudly against the strangers. Both beings went toe to toe with the pretty boy surprising even himself. He got too cocky, however, lowering his guard just enough for the figure to punch his chest knocking the wind out of him as he fell to the floor.

The armor the figure was wearing loudly tapped against each other as they stepped forwards and pointed their weapon at Steve’s throat. With wide eyes, he watched as the person took off their helmet and casually tossed it to the ground as their hair fell around their face.

“Y/N?”

The boy whined as you tilted the sharp weapon up towards his chin causing him to stretch his face out of the way.

“My master sends his regards.”, you hiss as you step back and raise your sword.

Before you can do anything, something hard collides with your head and you faint to the ground.

“Ok, I’m not dreaming right? Or hallucinating?”, Eddie asked as he reached for Steve’s hand to help him off the ground.

“No, dude. At least I don’t think so…”

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birboon · 1 year ago

Text

Conceived in the Eye of a Secret

title from Ozzy Osbourne's "Mr Crowley"

A Steddie AU fic - Detective! Steve Harrington [oneshot, potentially multi-chapter) — 6k words

Steve Harrington was seventeen when he saw his first dead body. He wasn’t even out of high school – not even a senior – when he stumbled across Barbara Holland floating face down in his pool. He’d just gone outside for a piss, not wanting to wake his then-girlfriend, brain still fuzzy and whirling from the warm beers Tommy H had stolen from his dad the night before, and there she was; skin tight around her bloated form. Steve had taken one look at her short hair and the leaves knotted there, matted with blood and chunks of soft grey tissue that he’d prayed, God, please wasn’t part of her fucking brain, and vomited. The smell, more than anything, was what sent him over the edge: Rank and pungent, an edge of sickening sweetness. He’d been able to smell her cheap perfume, too.

She’d been dumped there during the night. Steve thought she’d gone home - she was supposed to have gone home, but there police found her car still parked down the street, untouched. ‘A crime of passion’, they’d called it, and even now – almost twenty years later – Steve didn’t understand why. Barbara Holland’s face had been beaten to an unrecognizable, pulpy mess of flesh and blood. Shards of her skull had ruptured through her skin, her left eye had been burst from the blunt force that the sick fuck had hit her with; it had dribbled like veiny egg-yolk into Steve’s pool, mixing with the water like oil.

Steve liked to think himself a passionate guy. But he didn’t go around murdering people.

Instead, he caught the murderers – preferably before they’d had the chance to do the murdering but like everything in life, it was easier said than done. Hell, he could count on two hands the number of cases that had passed through the rigorous filtering of Hawkins PD before landing at his desk in the tiny, cramped office that the Homicide Department called home. The Homicide Department being him, sole and singular, bent over anaemic manila folders with little more to information than a polaroid snapshot and the name of the deceased.

So, yeah. Steve was seventeen when he saw his first dead body, and for some reason he’d made it his life’s goal to see as many as possible. If only to prevent them from becoming cold cases, forgotten and locked away in some filing cabinet to gather dust – to prevent them from becoming like Barb. Since the Holland case, there hadn’t been another unsolved murder in Hawkins. A fresh-faced, fresh-out-of-college Steve Harrington had made sure of that. And for thirteen years, Detective Harrington had kept it that way.

Still, he never quite got used to seeing a corpse – the smell never did become easier to handle. With the more violent deaths, and Steve grimaced as he stared towards the twisted, strewn remains of the human before him, it became especially hard to bear. Hopper had taught him to chew gum to settle his stomach at particularly bad scenes, and Joyce – ever the astute pathologist – had given him a small jar of Vick’s VapoRub the second time he’d ever come down into the morgue (he’d had to excuse himself halfway through the autopsy the first time, and she’d smiled understandably as he trembled his way to the bathroom, legs shaking and face pallid). But even a hefty smudge of the strong-smelling ointment wasn’t enough to cover the stench of a rotting carcass entirely, and Steve’s stomach turned as decay permeated the room.

It was October, but it was hot, which only served to make matters worse because the heat only exacerbated the whole ordeal. And whilst the rest of Hawkins, and Indiana in general, Steve supposed, were out enjoying the autumn sunshine, he was stuck in a sweat-box apartment with three other men and a day-old cadaver. The room was stagnant, ripe with death.

“What a shit day to die,” he muttered, and though he hadn’t meant to say it out loud his words got a murmur of agreement from the others. It was a Monday.

The woman – Steve glanced down at the clipboard in his hands – Maureen Gildman had been brutally slain. She lay in a pool of her own viscous blood, face carved-up hideously like the jack-o-lanterns that were beginning to emerge in the windows of his neighbours, and the young detective made a mental note to take Dustin to the pumpkin patch before the Holiday was over. Halloween was the kid’s favourite time of year. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a favourite of all the psychos too. Steve checked his watch.

Four Fifty-Seven PM. A Monday.

A simple glance around the room showed varying picture frames lovingly arranged on the walls and sat on bookshelves stocked with cheesy romcoms, void of any actual books. Most were in good condition, if a bit dusty, but Steve wasn’t about to lecture a dead woman on cleanliness. Not when a picture of her young daughter stared over at him, flecked with tiny beads of maroon, thick and congealed atop the pink dress she’d worn to the last middle school dance. Dt. Harrington hoped the girl wasn’t still waiting to be picked up at the school gates, considering the last class would have let out almost three hours ago. Steve checked his clipboard again. Divorced, he thought solemnly, and for a moment let himself empathise with the dead.

He'd seen forensics scrape the burnt remains of brownies into sterile baggies as he’d arrived on the scene, and it said more than he’d wished to know. The girl had been with her father over the weekend, and it was him who had dropped her off that morning. No doubt Maureen had been busily preparing to have her child back with her, cooking up something sweet and special as a prize for surviving another Monday.

“You got a preference?” The words cut through Steve’s thoughts as he turned to the photographer in question. Johnathon gave him a grim, lazy smile, his lips pressed tightly together. “Y’know, for a day to die?”

A layer of dust was collected on the camera in his hands. Particles bounced around in the sunlight pouring through the shuttered blinds. There was something sour in the man’s gaze as he watched Steve, but he didn’t think that the contempt was aimed towards himself – at life, maybe. Johnathon was probably reflecting on the choices he’d made during his career that had led him to that moment.

Steve shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, fiddling with the strings of the lining. “A Thursday might be nice, maybe.”

Johanthon watched him through dark eyes. He lifted the camera to his face, squinting as he levelled it towards the detective’s shoes, and Steve stepped out of the frame as the shutter clicked and the flash illuminated the puddle of crusted fluids that were soaked into the shaggy carpet. A yellow tent marked with a bold, black 12 was posted beside it.

“Maybe,” the other man agreed. The camera dropped back down to his chest, and he shrugged. Steve chewed at his tongue, looking away as Johnathon dropped into a crouch, lens angled towards the body. Maureen looked grossly ethereal in the white light; the flayed skin on her naked chest was red, glowing.

Steve looked down again. Ms. Gildman was the third in a recent string of murders that the Hawkins P.D wanted to clump together beneath the moniker of a serial killer. Ever since the term had been coined by the FBI in the seventies, it seemed every small town was desperate to have one to their name. Obviously, Steve didn’t quite agree. There were casual differences in the demeanour and traits of the killings that had him pegs them ostentiously as all separate, sad crimes. Crimes of passion, he thought grimly. Right. Passion.

Maureen was missing both breasts. They’d been sawn off with a serrated object, upon quick examination – Steve’s money was on a bread knife, stolen from her own kitchen, but the murder weapon wouldn’t be identified properly until Joyce got the chance to take a closer look. The… breasts were found hidden within a tall, exotic-looking potted plant. An empty box of matches had been found there, too, opened and spilt onto the blood-stained carpet. Steve imagined that whoever had murdered the woman got cold feet, meaning to burn the balls of flesh but abandoning the plight at the last moment. Or maybe they had refused to light, and after four frazzled, burned-out attempts they had been forced to leave before the police arrived on scene.

Either way, Steve found nothing passionate about it. Disgusting, maybe. Driven by desire? Absolutely. But there was no passion, just the empty and unfeeling actions of a disturbed individual.

He stepped away, ducking back beneath the police tape. He’d seen enough.

Nodding to the paramedics waiting patiently in the hallway, equipped with a stretcher and a body bag, Steve crept away. Several neighbours had been escorted from the building in hysterics – in particular, the old woman who had found the woman after smelling the burning confectionary that had been baking as she’d died – but those that hadn’t were standing in their doorways, arms crossed, faces framed with dismay. Steve couldn’t quite figure out if they really were upset, or just desperate to know what was happening.

Chief Hopper appraised him with dark, judging eyes as he approached the stairwell, holding out an arm to stop Steve’s descent into fresh air. A burned-out cigarette hung limply from the older man’s lips, smoke drifting from the glowing embers fleetingly. Steve inhaled sharply, desperate to purge his nostrils. He wiped his nose.

“Careful when you go down there, kid,” Hopper grumbled. Steve raised an eyebrow. “I got two words for ya: Press and chaos.”

“That’s actually three words, chief, but who’s counting?” Jim barked out a rough laugh, and the young detective continued: “Not you, evidently.”

“Don’t push your luck, Harrington,” the older man snapped, but he was smiling and, well, Steve was just glad someone still had that ability, no matter how joyless and thin it was. The chief clapped him on the back as he pressed forward, calling after him. “And don’t say I didn’t warn ya!”

Hopper was right, of course; it was chaos. Always was, but Steve supposed that his wishing for a moment of peace was just that: Wishful. A duo of officers were posted at the main entrance to the building, chatting lightly with each other. Through the screen doors Steve caught a glimpse at the gathered crowd of reporters – a heaving, squirming mess of free-for-all filled with flashing cameras and eager journalists, all desperate to catch a glimpse of the deceased or ambush someone who had.

Upon spotting them, the sea surged, and Steve was half-worried that they’d bring down the doors, but the men in charge of crowd control didn’t seem at all bothered. They shot him a lame look of distaste – one that said ‘oh look, there’s the great detective’ and Steve grimaced.

“Detective Harrington! Detective, could you give us a – “

“Harrington! What did the deceased look like?”

“Detective is this a serial killer?”

Detective! Detective! Detective!

He ducked behind a supportive dry-wall in the centre of the apartment building’s ‘reception’ area, eyeing the stapled pamphlets and posters hanging there miserably. Only one caught his eye – it stood out from the rest simply because it had tried: Nestled atop the dull pastels and black print was a seemingly hand-made poster advertising a band, all dark reds and metal greys, collaged with newspaper cut-outs. Corroded Coffin (what happened to naming bands nice things, like The Doors or Wham! ?), were playing at a club Steve hadn’t visited in years, The Upsidedown . He hadn’t been there since Dustin had been unceremoniously dropped into his lap, not since he’d made Senior detective, what, six years ago?

Dt. Harrington mused, almost-sadly, that he hadn’t even been out for drinks in at least three months – and that was only because he’d been dragged by Robin on one of the Forensic-team outings. He’d gotten shit-faced off of cheap cocktail pitchers and shots of rose tequila, and had to explain to his son why he was going to have to get the bus to school the next morning because ‘daddy’s sick, buddy. Real sick’.

Without thinking, the detective snatched the sheet of paper from the wall, leaving a strip of paper behind, still tacked to the wall, and folded it carelessly into his pocket. And then Steve finally made the point of searching for a fire exit.

It wasn’t hard – cheaply printed white sheets of A4 with a bold red arrow and text reading ‘IN CASE OF FIRE’ were hung carelessly close to the ceiling, one pointing to the next in the most boring treasure hunt ever created. Honestly, though, Steve did think there would be treasure once he found the big X (or, in his case, the back exit to the building). It would come in the form of peace and quiet, and no out-of-context quote headlining the papers, and he was anxious to uncover it.

But when he made it to the outside world, swinging on the fire-retardant handle, Steve was met not only with a crisp October breeze and brilliant sunshine, but with a cheap tape recorder being shoved under his nose. He recognized the neat script inked onto the label that was stretched over the plastic and frowned, pushing it gently away.

“I told you, you can’t just turn up at these things,” he said, herding her backwards as he stepped out into the light. His tone was cold enough for the woman in question to drop the arm holding the device out towards him. She cocked her head, reeling after him like an annoying blowfly on a body. “And before you ask, Nancy, my answer is no comment.”

“You’re not looking so hot right now, Steve,” she said softly. Steve scoffed.

“You know exactly what a man wants to hear, don’t you?”

“Are you okay?” Nancy probed gently, and finally caught up with the man, she settled into stride beside him. He looked down at her and her frilly shirt and smiled gingerly.

“I’m doing just fine, Wheeler.”

Nancy’s mouth twisted bitterly at the disconnect in his voice and Steve sighed. They’d dated for three years – four, if you counted the sweet high-school romance they’d fooled themselves into believing – before an inevitable, explosive end. Life got in the way, he told himself. Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler were as different as two people could be; fire and ice. Steve had hoped he’d be able to thaw the woman, get her to settle down, but she’d wanted different things. He’d wanted a family, and she wanted to soar.

Steve had gotten his family, in the end, in the form of a robust, confused four-year-old. And Nancy, well. She was doing what she’d always dreamed.

The woman rewound her tape, bringing it to her mouth: “See: Detective Harrington at the end of his rope. Is this the first case the prodigy can’t solve?”

Steve rolled his eyes, tucking his chin to his chest as they crossed the parking lot opposite the swarm of spectators round the front of the building. The ranks of journalists had settled their unprofessional nature by pressing their faces and cameras against the misty glass, like toddlers at a zoo trying to see into the lion’s enclosure.

“You’re not going to scare me into talking about my feelings, Nancy,” Steve said, casting a glance towards her. She shrugged, spinning the recorder in her fingers.

“Worth a shot,” came the reply, accompanied by a shrug, and Nancy escorted him back to his car, shrouding him in companionable silence. Her low heels clicked on the gravel, and she spun to him when they reached his BMW. A hand wrapped itself around his wrist, and it was Steve’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “You know you can talk to me, right? You were joking, I know, but… Sometimes I worry about you, Steve.”

Dt. Harrington’s smile waned. “I should be the least of your worries,” he shot back. He’d aimed for a light teasing, but the words came out with a heavier weight than he’d expected. Even he reeled back from them, and Nancy squeezed his wrist reassuringly. His pulse raced under her touch. Just friends, he reminded himself (was that all It took? Just a touch from someone that wasn’t his boss or his son? God, he needed to get laid – yet another thing that he hadn’t had the luxury of indulging in lately).

“I care about you. I always worry about the people I care about.”

Steve shook her off gently, opening the driver’s side door: “Be good for Hopper when he finally drags himself out of there, Nance. Tell Mike I say hi.”

He slid behind the wheel before she could reply and unravel the fragile life he’d built for himself.

…

Three hours later, and Steve was drowning in paperwork.

It was cruel, really, how much time he spent in an office that wasn’t even his. Officially, it belonged to the department but most of the time Dt. Harrington saw it as a glorified janitor’s closet. Because whilst it looked good written down on paper, the chipped name plate with Steve’s name on it – one that he was one-hundred-percent sure had been engraved by the resident fear-mongering asshole Officer Hargrove - dared him to question why the opaque glass door didn’t say the same. He’d worked for the Hawkins PD for over a decade: You’d think they would have the audacity and respect to give him a permanent work residence.

But alas, not everyone could be so lucky as the violent crimes unit – especially not homicide. And so Steve settled for less than he deserved and he waited it out patiently, because, in the end, that was how he’d wound up where he was today:

‘Never chase an opportunity,’ his father had told him – and this was when Steve had become co-captain instead of sole captain of the swim team, faced not only with his own disappointment but with his old mans’ too. ‘If you deserve them, they’ll come’.

Steve never had made captain of the swim team outside the constant, companionable badgering of James Rowe, and he’d never outgrown the tiny, un-flourishing seeds of wisdom that Harrington Senior had dredged up during his childhood. Somethings were worth waiting for, he’d deigned. But most of the time they weren’t.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his forehead with a rough sigh. His shoulders were stiff and sore from being hunched over a desk that took up so much room in the cluttered office that he could hardly breathe, and his wrist ached from underlining and circling the clauses and misspells in Deputy Callahan’s write-up. A myriad of red-penned scribbles tracked over the pages strewn across the table and not for the first time Steve felt like some kind of kindred spirit to the kids Tommy H had made do his homework back in high school. Why even write it in the first place if you knew it was going to be obsolete?

Because they liked to waste his time, that’s why.

God, Steve hated Mondays.

He gathered the loose-leaf documents into a pile, tapping it against the desk to straighten the pages into semi-reasonable conditions, and pushed them to one side. He balanced a heavy-duty hole-punch on top, just in case the weather decided to act it’s month and send a blast of crisp wind through the tiny window held open by the string of the blinds covering it. It had happened once before, years ago, and Steve had spent the rest of his night on overtime just picking up pieces of paper and filing them back to their original places. He didn’t feel like going through that again; his back wasn’t what it used to be, and Steve wasn’t sure his knees would be up to the challenge of crawling along a hard wood floor.

Picking his pen up and dropping it with a quiet clink into the mug resting by his computer, he pushed away from the table, letting the wheels of his chair take him the distance to the door. Steve opened it gingerly, poking his head out and hoping that it wasn’t true that a woman’s work was never done: If Florence made him take another casserole home, he was pretty certain Dustin would begin to refuse meals, and if there was one thing Dt. Harrington didn’t need added to his list of difficulties, it was a fussy ten-year-old.

Thankfully there was no secretary in sight – in fact, it looked like half the police force had abandoned ship. The entire precinct was a waste land. Officer Powell sat in one corner, feet kicked up on his desk, throwing paper balls at a whirring fan, and Maxine Mayfield – a regular to the station, but not for unsavoury reason – watched with an unimpressed gaze as she waited for her brother’s shift to be done. But, really, that was it. That was the grand entertainment that Steve’s nightlife offered.

His keys rattled jovially as he locked up the office, and he ruffled the red-head’s hair in a drive-by mussing on his way to grab his coat from the rack. Robin’s was gone already – no surprise there – so all he really had to worry about as he was leaving was double-checking he had everything, and avoiding the vengeful, fisted hands of Max as she leapt from her chair with furious, delighted eyes:

“Harrington,” she hissed, and Steve smirked at the warmth he detected in her tone. She obviously hadn’t meant for it to leak through, because her eyes widened, and the girl scowled.

“Happy to see me, Max?”

“No!”

“You are,” Dt Harrington teased, and he crouched down in front of her with a stupid grin on his supposedly stupid face. “You so are!”

“Am not!”

Steve waggled a finger in her face, winking to Powell over her shoulder as Max grabbed for it, bringing it to her mouth with the threat of biting it clean off like a carrot stick. “Face it, kid. You love me. You find me funny!”

“You’re stupid,” the ten-year-old snapped back, releasing his hand, and grabbing the lapels of his coat with tiny fists instead. She pulled him forward like she was being the bad cop in a duo of interrogating officers. Steve let himself get tugged along for the ride, grinning.

“Says who?”

“Says Billy,” Steve rolled his eyes, prying her limpet-like fingers from his suit. He straightened up, leaving her adorable, angry face glaring up at him. Her cheeks had gone as red as her hair. There was no heat in her voice though, not really, and she looked away from his soft gaze, blushing. “But I still think you’re cool. He’s stupid too.”

“Yeah, Max. He is,” the man agreed, hands on his hips. “You know who else is stupid? Chief Ho –“

“Harrington!” Steve paled, letting out a nervous bubble of laughter as he turned to the voice. Jim levelled him with a disappointed stare that sent waves of childhood nostalgia through the detective’s gut as the station doors swung shut behind him. He was wrangling a cuffed man by the elbows, tiredness seeping through his eyes, through his voice. “This isn’t a day care. Come and help me.”

Steve furrowed his brows, confused, but approached, nonetheless. He stepped with caution, unsure. “Uh, isn’t exactly my forte, Hop.”

“Cut the crap, detective. You went through basic training just like the rest of us,” the Chief sanctioned, and the lack of patience in his voice caused Steve to walk that little bit faster. At his approach, the guy in custody’s attention rocketed straight towards him.

Now, Steve was never one to judge a book by it’s cover. Really. But with a quick and critical appraisal of the man currently being arrested by his superior, it was kind of hard for Steve to avoid. Because when the man turned, his hair turned with him – all of it – and it flicked over his shoulders, framed by the cheap halogen lighting above, like something out of a Whitesnake music video. Because the tight black jeans, the worn leather jacket, the Savatage t-shirt, the glint of cool silver adorning his knuckles and fingers, did nothing to quell the uncomfortable heat creeping its way up his throat, and Steve cursed himself for never fully getting over his childhood crush on Nikki Sixx.

“Yeah, detective, cut the crap,” parroted the man, and Steve revelled in that voice being aimed towards him. He swallowed, dragging his eyes up from the chains looped around his waist like a belt (and were those handcuffs in place of a buckle? Christ). A smirk was plastered over top of the rocker’s face, his brown eyes fully aware, it seemed, of the thousands of thoughts flooding through Steve’s mind. “Help the old man, why dontcha?”

Hopper gave the guy a rough shove and he stumbled, letting out a breathy laugh, and, stupidly, Steve reached forward to steady him. He regretted it the minute he touched the man because the flutter of eyelashes and sarcastic ‘my hero’ had Dt. Harrington stumbling instead.

“Fingerprint him,” the Chief said gruffly, physically manoeuvring Steve’s hands from the convict’s - remember the type of people who get themselves arrested, Steve – shoulder down to the cuffed hands pinned behind his back. Jim held him there for a moment, giving the other man a knowing look. His grip on Steve’s wrist tightened: “He’s in for drunk and disorderly. You remember how to put that into the system, right?”

“Yeah, but – “

“Don’t get distracted if you ever want to make it home tonight,” Hopper relented, backing away. Steve frowned.

“Where are you going?”

The chief grinned, throwing his hat onto his desk and shrugging on his coat. “Hot date, you know how it is.”

Steve resisted the urge to scoff, clearing his throat instead, and he gently urged the man in his charge forward as he watched, more miserable than ever, as his boss practically skipped from the building.

He pushed the cuffed man into a chair opposite an empty desk and turned the computer on begrudgingly. Chin in hand, he stared towards the blank windows-start-up screen as the PC’s fans whirred angrily into action. Steve felt eyes burning into him, and pushed hair from his forehead as he turned to the unwelcome attention:

“What?” he sighed. He was met with an exaggerated smile.

“Judging by your reaction, I guess you don’t.”

“What?”

“Know how it is,” the man continued, and Steve could feel himself begin to grow impatient, frustrated, annoyed. Spotting his flustered state, the smile on their face crept even further up their cheeks. “Having a hot date?”

He was leaning over the desk now, cheek pressed against a balled fist in some childish mirroring of Steve, and the detective felt the area beneath his eyes grow hot. He blinked, sitting back in his chair: “I know,” he said, aiming to keep his voice steady and calm – professional, because that’s what he was. A professional. Steve hated the way a dark eyebrow cocked at his response. “I know,” he repeated sternly, trying to force some conviction into his words.

“I don’t see a ring.”

Steve frowned, flexing his right hand awkwardly as he turned back to the computer screen, suddenly incredibly aware of it. “I’m not married.”

“Ah.” Steve’s eyes flickered to him, then down to the chipped nail polish on his fingers, and back to the screen. He swallowed, opening a folder to begin the digital booking procedure. He double clicked on a tick-box by accident as the man decided to speak once more: “So, you’re a player, then?”

Steve cursed breathlessly, exiting the file and reopening it. There, a blank slate. Dt. Harrington wished he could do the same thing in real life and restart this whole ordeal – he wouldn’t be letting Hopper sneak off the next time around.

“Name?”

“Eddie – Edward Munson… Is this an eye for an eye situation? Do I get to know just who my charming captor is?”

“It’s not required for me to tell you,” He stated, stealing a glance over towards Munson. The guy was still staring at him, eyes squinting, half-closed, as though Steve was a mystery he was trying to decipher. The click of keys as Steve added the man’s credentials to the document filled the brief silence. “Any middle names?”

“No.” A simple statement. Normal procedure. Then: “So, about your ‘hot dates’, detective… You go on lots?”

Dt. Harrington wanted to slam his head against the keyboard. He inhaled slowly (hold for four, just like Robin had taught him) and let the air out in a whining, exaggerated sigh. Half of him wanted to throttle Munson with the cuffs chained around his wrists, and the other half wanted to entertain him, purely out of personal, incredibly non-professional interest in the other man’s interest.

“Not anymore,” Steve admitted. He clicked into an empty box asking to describe the crime committed: “My colleague said you were being admitted for drunk and disorderly. Is that right?”

Eddie Munson snorted. “Your colleague?”

“Yeah.”

The other man rolled his eyes and began scratching at an ink stain on the wooden desk. “If you mean the big guy, then yeah. I don’t know about any disorder, though. Thought I was just being thrown into the clink with the rest of the bums.”

“You’re homeless, then?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up beneath his shaggy fringe, hiding there, and he had the audacity to look offended as he sank down into his chair. “Fuck no. Why, do I have trash in my hair?” He brought a hand up to thread through his wild locks, snickering at Steve’s unamused face.

“It’s not funny to make fun of the less fortunate, Munson. What’s your address?”

Eddie stiffened. “Uh, okay. Funny thing, actually – “

“You are homeless?” Steve guessed, and he figured he was actually close to the truth by the way the other man’s face seemed to humble and calm down from it’s crazy that he’d had posted there since they’d met.

“No, dude, I live in a van!”

“Like, in an RV?”

“Er,” Eddie hesitated. “Yeah, sure. Like in an RV.”

“What’s the license?”

Eddie answered disdainfully and watched as Steve typed the information into the designated box, frowning, but he made no attempt to interrupt the detective as he continued filling in the rest of the information. Steve treasured the quiet, broken only by the hushed conversation across the room where in Max continued to verbally abuse Powell’s attempts to shoot a crumpled post-it into the waste basket.

Steve turned to Eddie, then, examining him with a crude eye; Munson puffed his chest beneath his gaze like the preening bird of paradise he’d seen on that nature documentary Dustin had forced him to sit through (David Attenborough had lulled him into a false sense of security - those birds were vicious). Dt. Harrington wondered if the man realised he was doing it, but one glance to his smirking face and smudged eye-liner was enough to stop that thought in it’s tracks.

“Do you have a criminal record?”

“Not that I know of,” Eddie replied coolly. He narrowed his eyes as Steve turned to type something into a search engine, leaning forward and craning his neck to try and get a closer look. “What are you doing?”

“Fact-checking,” Steve murmured in reply, and felt his chest deflate, rest easy, when he saw that the man was telling the truth. He was clean as a whistle. Related family members - his father – were a different story all together, and Steve didn’t let himself linger on the crooked, malicious black and white mugshot that leered at him through the screen. Put away for second-degree manslaughter, he thought grimly, and looked back to the Munson sat before him. “It checks out.”

“Well, good,” Eddie said roughly. There was a gravel to his voice that had the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck standing to attention. “I’m a man of many qualities, detective. But I’m not a liar.”

There was an undercurrent of upset, embarrassment, at what Steve had possibly been assuming - or even hinting towards – and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s just- uh, you know. We have to do it for everyone who comes through,” he stammered, and cleared his throat again, avoiding eye contact with the other man. “Don’t think you’re special or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Munson shot back, and there it was, the classic grin that Steve found somewhat endearing now that he’d seen that face void of it. Eddie sent him a wink, and he supressed the shiver in exchange for a well-timed eyeroll, scrolling up and down the document to check for anything he’d missed. He checked ‘no’ for anything stating that the incarcerated was exhibiting foul or unsavoury behaviour. ‘No’ was also checked for the box that asked whether a superior officer had been overseeing the whole thing, because Steve was so going to throw it back in Hopper’s face if anyone questioned why a Homicide detective was detaining people.

Steve sent the file to the printer in his office. Mainly because he wanted to escape the digging eyes of Eddie Munson, but also because he didn’t know how to use the one set up only a couple feet away. When he pushed himself out from beneath the desk, standing up, Eddie frowned, copying the motion, and Steve shook his head, pushing him back down into the seat:

“Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” If anything, Steve would say that the man sounded concerned. How cute.

“I’ll be back,” he reassured, and Munson’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Okay?” The other man said, like he didn’t know what else to say. Steve sent him a stiff smile before he began that awkward, half-run half-speed walk to his office. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and if he didn't know any better he'd say he could hear the tumbling of blood as it rushed through his veins as Eddie Munson's eyes followed his every move.

What was wrong with him? Just a few hours ago he was investigating the brutal slaughter of a poor woman. Someone's mother, someone's daughter, was dead, and for the first time in years Dt. Harrington was struggling to keep the case at the forefront of his mind. He braced himself against door, closing it softly behind him. He wasn't in high school anymore, Steve had to remind himself. He couldn't just drop it all for the first cute girl he saw.

But and Steve tried to stop the train of thought before it began, failing miserably. But, Edward Munson wasn't a girl. That made it different, surely?

No. It didn't. Steve had been with guys before - he'd learnt more in college than how to assess the arcs of blood splattered against the wall. He was just tired, and lonely, and he'd had a rough day. Steve snatched the papers from the printer harshly, wrinkling them slightly. He just needed to get it out of his system, that's all.

Preferably not with a drunk dude admitted to a police station.

The term 'beggars can't be choosers' breached the sturdy wall he'd suddenly built up in his mind, and Steve banished it instantly. He wasn't a beggar. He was Steve Harrington. King Steve. The best homicide investigator Hawkins had seen in half a century. If anything, everyone else was begging.

When he came back out of his office, his tiny, insecure pep-talk to himself had boosted his spirits some, and he strode jauntily back to the desk with the same cockiness he'd had when he was younger, before his work had both taken over his life and drained him of it at once. He eyed Maxine Mayfield uncertainly where she was perched on the end of an adjoining desk, listening with the same intense, serious look she always kept on her face as the hand-cuffed man talked aimlessly at her about whatever the fuck a guy like him had to talk about. Music, probably.

Steve sent a sharp glance towards Officer Powell, but the man had fallen asleep with his feet kicked up and his neck flopped awkwardly over the back of his chair. He would feel that position when he woke, and Steve felt a little bit gratified. Served him right for leaving a ten-year-old unsupervised with a criminal.

Not that Dt. Harrington really thought that Munson was a bad guy. Usually when drunks got brought into the clink it was because they’d been partying too loud and disturbed a neighbour, and, honestly, Eddie seemed sober. But that was beside the point.

Steve stood with his hands on his hips, watching the two of them, and felt a begrudging smile tilt the corners of his mouth: “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Max cried, kicking out at him with her swinging legs. She missed him by about three feet, but he got the picture quite clearly. Eddie rolled his eyes, shaking his chains at Steve.

“Nothing important, Steve,” the man purred. Steve’s heart hammered in his chest, and he wet his lips, looking away from the eyes plastered onto him. Eddie tracked the move like a predator, and something about the way he gave his full attention to Steve had the detective shuddering beneath his gaze.

“Max, you’re not supposed to speak to strangers.”

“You were talking to him,” the girl said indignantly, and Eddie’s dazzling smile caused Steve to falter in his reply, like the man knew just how to hotwire his brain. He blinked.

“Yeah, well. That’s my job,” he shrugged, pushing past her sit back down. The red-head scowled, kicking out again, and this time her shoes brushed against his slacks. He shoot her a dirty look: “You shouldn’t have told him my name, either. Where’s your brother? Go bother him.”

Max’s brow furrowed and she pulled her legs up, crossing them on top of the desk. Her eyes flickered between the two men, and she pressed her lips together in indecision. “Can I stay if I’m quiet?”

“Sure. But I want silence. Anything more and you’re out. That’s an order,” Steve enforced, lacing his tone with authority. He knew it would work – it always did with kids. Remind them that you’re in control, give them an ounce of duty, and they felt instantly important. Max nodded furiously, making a show of zipping her lips, and Steve threw the document in his hand down onto the desk, turning his attention to Munson.

The man was looking at him – no surprise there, but Steve still felt oddly uncomfortable – with wide, excited eyes, his lips parted slightly. Steve could see the pink of his tongue trapped between his teeth, and cocked his head slightly: “You good, Munson?” He pushed the paper across the desk. “I need you to sign this for me, then we can get to fingerprinting.”

Eddie swallowed and shook his head. “No, uh – yeah I’m good. I’m super good,” he informed. He paused, scrutinizing the detective as he stole a pen right out of Steve’s hands before he had the chance to offer it. He scribbled a rushed, messy signature that slopped over the dotted line that it was aimed for, and stood quickly, slamming his palms flat on the table in a way that generated a thunderous sound. Steve raised a brow as Max jumped, lips twisting in her attempts to maintain her vigil of absolute quiet. Munson levelled him with a… what was in that stare? Steve couldn’t quite make it out, struggling to compartmentalise the muddle of emotions burning there.

“So you’re ready to go, then?” the detective proffered, rising to join the detainee.

“I’m all yours, Stevie.”

“Please, call me detective. It’s protocol.”

“I’m all yours, detective Steve.”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. The tangy scent of copper drifted from his tie and he swallowed as he rounded the desk. This was going to be a long night.

He hated Mondays.

#steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie au #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #detective steve harrington #concieved in the eye of a secret #fanfiction

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messessentialist · 1 year ago

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Of course, it was just as things were starting to really settle that Eddie’s no-good father decided to show up. Frank’s black El Camino tore into the trailer park like he was being chased by the law. And, in fact, he was – no sooner had he skidded to a halt in front of Wayne’s trailer, tires kicking up gravel, than a Hawkins PD cruiser followed, though at a more sedate pace. Wayne had been sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette; he only acknowledged Frank’s approach by slowly standing to his full height. “Eddie,” he called into the trailer with what he hoped was an authoritative voice. “Stay inside the trailer, son.” The Led Zeppelin song that had been blasting out Eddie’s bedroom window abruptly shut off, the only acknowledgment that he’d heard his uncle’s warning.

start by pulling him out of the fire, project 070 of the Steddie Big Bang 2023.

Chapter Two is now live!

#the wayne fic #steddie big bang #steddiebang23 #steddie fic #wayne munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic

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hbyrde36 · 2 years ago

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Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

Or,

The Anita Blake AU/Steddie mashup that nobody asked for but i'm having far too much fun with.

ao3

Chapter 1: Old Friends

Years ago, long before he'd started raising the dead professionally for his father's company in Indianapolis, Harrington’s Animators Inc, Steve Harrington had been known as the best babysitter in Hawkins. The city wasn’t all that far from his old hometown so, occasionally he would run into one of his old charges. All of them were grown now, a few even enrolled at the nearby college. Dustin Henderson was the first kid he ever babysat and, although he'd deny it if anyone asked, the little shit had always been his favorite.

The boy currently sitting across the desk from him looked much the same as he had a year and a half ago, the last time Steve had seen him. Before he'd died.

Steve wasn’t an idiot, he knew the rules, but he looked Dustin in the eyes anyway. It was quick, just long enough to see if those blue eyes were still the same too or if there was something new in them that would betray what his friend had chosen to become. Dustin noticed and shot him a grin wide enough to show fangs and Steve instinctively looked away with a poorly concealed shudder.

"Y'know, you don't have to be afraid. I’m still me."

"Not afraid, just..."

"You can't lie to a vampire Steve, I can smell the fear on you."

Steve opened his mouth to retort but quickly closed it again. No use trying to argue with someone who could literally smell your how you feel.

"Okay, fine. Why are you here, Henderson?"

"To hire you of course!"

This kid was way too cheerful for a creature of the night, wasn’t that against the rules or something? It was making it really hard for Steve to keep him in the ‘potential enemies’ box.

Steve glared at him, which is harder than it sounds when you're trying not to look someone in the eyes but he thinks he makes it work. "I raise the dead, I don't usually work for them. What do you need a zombie raised for anyhow?"

Ignoring the dig, Dustin soldiered on. "I need to hire you to investigate a murder, like a couple of them."

Murder? What the hell had the kid gotten himself mixed up in now? Part of Steve wanted to ask, the other part reminded him that it was no longer his business. Dustin hadn’t wanted his advice before he went and ruined his life so there was no reason to think he’d want it now.

"I'm sorry buddy but I can't help you." Steve winced internally at the slip. He could not fall into the trap of thinking of him as the same Dustin he knew and loved. The whole thing was making his chest ache and he badly needed this meeting to be over.

"It's not for me, exactly..." Dustin trailed off, looking unsure how to proceed for the first time since he'd arrived.

Steve raised an eyebrow in question.

Dustin sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was such a familiar and human gesture that it almost made Steve smile. He shouldn't have been surprised by it, the kid hadn't been dead long enough to shake all his old habits.

"I'm working for the master of the city. Please don’t tell my mom."

Steve mouth dropped open in shock as he gasped. "Henderson, are you out of your mind?!"

"Look, I didn't really have a choice alright?” Dustin said, hands raised in surrender. “It’s a long story. I was ordered to come here and hire you to look into the Vampire murders that have been happening downtown. Have you heard about them?"

"You know I work with the cops sometimes on preternatural cases. Yes, I'm aware of them. I've seen the bodies and given my opinion to the police. In a way, I'm already on the case so - you can go back to your boss and tell them to save their money."

"Come on Steve, we really need your help! The cops don't care about us, if anything I’ll bet they're happy about these murders. Less vamps on the street to worry about is all they think."

Steve wished he could defend the men and women of the Indy PD but deep down he knew Dustin was right. After all, vampirism had only been legal in the United States for the past two years and it takes time for people to adjust to a new status quo. In reality, he was sure not every officer felt that way but, enough of them did that Steve didn't feel like he could argue.

“I get it kid, okay? But I’m not a private investigator. I can’t believe my da…Bert would even set up this meeting.”

“We’re offering three times your normal fee.”

“Jesus, well that explains it then. It’s always about the money with him.”

“What about Robin? She’s a PI, can’t you like work together with her or something?”

“Absolutely not, I’m not letting her get anywhere near a case like this. It’s too dangerous.”

Steve glanced at his watch, shocked to find that the hour had grown so late. He jumped up, hastily shoving files into his bag and hoping Dustin would take it for the dismissal that it was. He didn’t.

Steve paused, looking back up at the kid in front of him and sighed. “It was really good to see you but I have to go, I have clients to meet in 15 minutes. I don’t like to keep people waiting, especially in a cemetery.”

Dustin tilted his head to the side and something flashed in his eyes. There and gone so quickly that if Steve didn’t know better, he’d think he imagined it.

“You actually meant that, didn’t you?”

Steve shrugged, moving past to open the door. Dustin took the hint this time and rose to follow Steve out.

“Are you going to be in trouble for failing to hire me?”

Dustin offered him a sad smile. “I told them you wouldn’t go for it.”

“Then why did you come?” Steve said, surprised.

It was Dustin’s turn to shrug this time. “It was really good to see you too, Steve.”

The sun was already rising as Steve pulled into the driveway of the small two-bedroom house he’d been renting. He was always a little grumpy when he couldn’t manage to get home before dawn, it meant his boss, the prick of a human being Steve had the misfortune to call a father, had overscheduled him. Again.

After a quick shower to remove the chicken blood he was now covered in, an unfortunate but necessary tool of the trade, Steve climbed into bed and was asleep within minutes.

He couldn’t have been out for more than an hour or two when his cell phone rang loudly, startling him awake. In his exhausted state he must have forgotten to switch it on silent mode.

“Hello?”

“Oops! Sounds like I woke you up. So sorry about that”

Steve winced, the voice on the other end of the line was a bit shrill for this early in the morning. He also had no earthly idea who this woman was, neither the voice or the number on the screen were familiar. She didn’t sound sorry at all.

“Who is this?”

“I’m Carol. Carol Perkins.”

“…and?” Steve said, impatiently.

“I work with Tammy Thompson?”

Steve had known Tammy since high school back in Hawkins. She'd had a crush on him for a while but once he had made it clear he wasn't interested she had backed off. The two eventually struck up something of a friendship and had both moved to Indianapolis around the same time.

Steve honestly didn't consider them to be that close but apparently Tammy did, if her asking him to be a bridesmaid in her wedding was any indication. He'd never admit it but he actually really likes the baby pink suit she'd chosen for him to wear to match the girl's dresses. He remembered this woman now, they hadn’t met yet but he knew she was in the wedding as well.

“Okay, now that name I know. What is it I can do for you Ms. Perkins?”

“Well, I know this is very last minute but I’m putting together a bachelorette party for Tammy tonight and I was hoping you could join us! Also, she mentioned that you don’t drink so I was also sort of hoping you could be the designated driver?”

“I haven’t even agreed to come yet and you’re already asking me to drive?”

“I know, I know. The time just got away from me. She said you’re off most Fridays, is that not the case this week?”

As a matter of fact, Steve was off tonight. He had big plans for a quiet night in and going to bed at an hour appropriate for humans but, sadly, that looked like would no longer be happening.

“No, it’s fine. Just tell me when and where to pick you all up.”

“Excellent! Pick us up at the office at round 8, you know where it is?”

“Yea, I’ve been there.”

“See you then!”

Steve hung up the phone and threw it across the room in a fit of frustration. Luckily it landed safely in a pile of dirty laundry. Why hadn’t he just said no! Robin was always telling him he was too nice. As he set the alarm clock and settled back down in bed, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe she was right.

Carol and Tammy were already outside waiting on the curb when Steve pulled up at 8 o'clock on the dot. As the girls climbed into the back, he couldn’t help but notice that Carol was wearing a ‘Vampires are people too’ button. Something about it rubbed him the wrong way, or maybe it was just her bitchy attitude. Oh well, he’d only have to play nice for one night, and then next month at the wedding. He could handle that.

The girls were both wearing sparkly cocktail dresses, which surprised Steve considering he was picking them up from work. He suddenly felt very underdressed. He looked nice of course, he knew they would be going ‘out’ but it was a casual-nice, consisting of his tightest jeans and a soft black henley.

“Oh Steve it’s so good to see you, it’s been weeks!” Tammy exclaimed.

“You too” Steve replied. Glancing over at Carol he asked, “are we waiting on anyone else?”

Carol at least had the grace to look embarrassed as she answered. “No, it’ll just be the three of us. I’m so sorry Tammy, I waited until the last minute and everyone else already had plans or couldn’t get a sitter.”

“Shocking that people would have plans on a Friday night.” Steve quipped.

Tammy glared at him through the rearview mirror, a look that clearly said, ‘be nice’. Steve rolled his eyes but plastered on his best customer service smile.

“So Carol, where are we headed?”

“Guilty Pleasures! Do you know where it is?”

Steve's smile fell and he fought hard not to scowl at the woman, regretting every decision he’d made that had led to this moment.

“Ooooh what’s Guilty Pleasures?” Tammy asked. She had to be the only woman in her 20’s in a 50-mile radius who hadn’t heard of the place.

Steve opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Carol's shriek of excitement. “Aahh! You’re gonna love it! Steve, don’t say a word, let's let it be a surprise.”

Guilty Pleasures, the world’s first vampire strip club was located in the heart of downtown, much to the chagrin of the many Conservative-Christian business owners in the area. The line to enter the place snaked around the block and for a moment Steve felt hopeful that they wouldn’t be able to get in. The feeling was short-lived however as Carol grabbed each of their hands in hers and dragged them up to the front of the line where a bouncer sat behind a red velvet rope. He looked Steve up and down, as if assessing a threat but smiled when get caught sight of the girls.

“Hey Carol, you and your friends can go on in. They’re holding a table for you.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. What sort of clout did this woman have around here that she could book a table at the last minute on a Friday?

Just inside the door stood a large sign that declared in no uncertain terms that no crosses, crucifixes, or other holy items were allowed past this point. Steve ignored the sign and continued past following the girls, quickly tucking his silver cross into his shirt and hoping no one would notice.

“Sir! You can’t bring that in there, didn’t you see the sign?”

Steve turned, only now noticing the large cubby hole in the wall just past the sign, complete with a coat check girl. Or in this case, a holy item check-girl. Steve looked at her and sighed, wondering if there was anything he could say to convince the her to let him keep his cross.

In the midst of their staring contest, a low husky voice sounded from behind their small group.

“Steeeeeeeve Harrrington, what brings you to my fine establishment on this lovely evening?” The voice belonged to Eddie, club owner and master vampire. He looked exactly you’d expect a vampire to look His long dark curly hair framing an otherworldly beautiful face. His white dress shirt with all its antique lace details was tucked into a pair of skin tight black leather pants. It gaped open at the chest, leaving a large expanse of his pale white skin on display.

Tammy and Carol both looked at Steve in surprise.

“Do you know each other?” Carol asked.

“I suppose you could say that” Eddie supplied, shooting Steve a mischievous grin.

“I’ve just been helping the police on some cases in the area, that’s all.” Steve is quick to clarify.

“Harrington here is their vampire expert.”

Tammy was staring open mouthed at Eddie, a dazed look in her eyes. Steve reached over to squeeze her arm gently. “Hey - Don’t look a vampire in the eyes, ever”

She nodded, looking uncomfortable for the first time since they had arrived. Good.

“No need to panic, I wouldn’t dream of harming such a beautiful woman.” Eddie said, grasping Tammy’s hand and raising it to his lips in one smooth motion, repeating the action a moment later with Carol.

“Don’t worry big boy, I won't touch you. That would take all the fun out of it, don’t you think?”

Steve scowled, he had an idea of where this was going and he didn’t like it at all.

“Just as say, you having a cross would be an unfair advantage. That’s no fun either, is it?”

“You didn’t make me take it off before.”

“That’s when you were with the cops.”

“So?”

“Do you doubt your own abilities so much that you need a crutch, Harrington?”

In truth, Steve knew he was right. Even without the cross, he was sure he could resist the mind tricks of any vampire in this place, including the over two-hundred-year-old one standing in front of him.

“Fine.” Steve ground out, pulling the necklace up over his head and thrusting it into the hands of the check-girl.

“Excellent!” Eddie exclaimed, before stepping in closer to Steve and whispering softly “Someone will get to you tonight, Stevie. I guarantee it.”

“Never.” Steve spat. Quickly moving to follow the girls down the hall and into the club beyond.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfic #ao3 #steve x eddie #ao3 link #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington pov #fanfic

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eddywoww · 2 years ago

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I just want to say that Dom Eddie was one of the first steddie fics I ever read and that basically ruined all vanilla fluffy fics for me, thanks.

Pd: until today I have read like 50 more fics and Dom Eddie is still in my top 3, I love how you write and your horny brain.♡

That means so much to me, just being in the top 3. Thank you so much !!!

Also my horny brain sgakhgldhlkhdk thank you very much

#asks

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jaegerisim · 1 year ago

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Unpopular opinion: Billy Hargrove, as a character, is not the monster that many people make him out to be. He’s a complex character and the message behind him is interesting imo.

He had lots of family trauma and likely most of his hatred is learned via how his father treats him and those around him. I’m not saying trauma excuses Billy’s behavior, and at the same time it does offer an explanation. It makes his character more complex and makes his death hit harder.

Billy sacrificed himself to save El and the party. If he had lived, maybe he would have had a redemption arc? But that’s not the message the Duffers wanted. Billy did a lot of shitty things and one big act of heroism isn’t enough to save his character.

Billy doesn’t get a redemption arc.

In stranger things the good guys win. Billy wasn’t a good guy.

But he wasn’t all bad. To me it hurts to think about a 17 year old abused by his father and manipulated/ possessed by vecna who dies by sacrificing himself to save his sister and her friends.

I feel bad for him, even though like Max I’m glad he’s not around to torment her and her friends.

Billy is a good complex bad guy.

I never see people talk about Billy as a character. It’s either people acting like he doesn’t exist or worshipping him. I’m not a Billy or harringrove Stan by any means. Hell no. (Steve deserves better lol like Eddie (steddie <3))

But I wish people talked about Billy as a character more, especially how his character impacts Max and everything.

Hiii nonny! Thank u for submitting this ask!!

Ok well I agree on some parts and I disagree on others.

Billy's character is a complex one and a mirror to Will and Jonathan, his relationship with Max is too.

Billy is Jonathan's mirror in the sense that both grew up with an abusive father and a younger sibling to take care off. Jonathan chose to be a good person and love Will while Billy decided to lash out on Max and abuse her. The similarities with Jonathan end there.

Will's parallels to Billy go way deeper. Other than the obvious name sharing. Both were victims of the mind flayer but, Will was able to fight against it bc he had ppl who loved him. Billy had no one, so he gave up. The thing is, that if Billy had no one, that is his own fucking fault bc he was violent, abusive and an overall piece of shit to absolutely everyone.

His sacrifice isn't his redemption, the fact that he decided to try and fight to save Max and The Party doesn't make him a saint. It only shows that he still has a tiny sense of morality. Also he already knew he was going to die, so he just decided to die attempting to save the others. We shouldn't worship him for this, ok?

And you are right that Billy's character is important, especially to Max's arc. He is important in the way that when he died he passed on to Max an enormous sense of guilt which is why Vecna targets her.

So, really, it's Billy's fault that Max is in a coma. He could have chosen to be good or change, but nah, he chose the easy way out.

In conclusion, Billy is a complex character but that doesn't make him any less of an asshole and I hate him quite a lot. 😊

PD: as an ex steddie shipper who only likes the fanart now, stonathan is waaaayy better 😊😊😊

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove analysis #el has hot takes and unpopular opinions

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 1 year ago

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20 questions for fic writers

i was tagged by @stevethehairington, thanks mack!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? only 10!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 149,243

3. What fandoms do you write for? mainly been stranger things and one little spn drabble here on tumblr and my st/spn crossover fic

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Several Notes of the Most Amiable Nature - aka secret admirer au (my first fic!) 2. A Recipe for Disaster - the princess diaries 2 au 3. (Reprise) - sequel to Several Notes 4. i'm outta my head over you - my mixtape fic 5. of sunshine and starlight - PWP 😏

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? i am so super behind, but yes!!!! and i appreciate them all so so much 🥺

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? definitely it's a date, my summer challenge fic (but i am working through a follow-up that makes it a happy ending i promise 😭)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? of all of them, i would probably say Several Notes; that one is the schmoopiest ending of them all, but next would def be outta my head.

(i don't want to count Recipe for Disaster since that's the same ending as the PD movie so... 😅)

8. Do you get hate on fics? i've been lucky to only get a little bit of screaming at me for it's a date, but not hate. they were all justifiably ASKLFAJLFASF at the plot twist, but it was all in good fun/still loved 🥰

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? yes!! my number 5 most liked fic is just PWP! and it's always been cute fluffy "real" smut so far, like the two being goofy with each other and super in love and shit lmao 10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? yeah! only the one though, my wip ST/SPN crossover fic You Will Never Walk Alone (You Can Always Reach Me); and to the previous question, my first smut was in chap 3 of this one and i am super proud of it still 😊

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? i really hope not???

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? not yet!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? nope!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? oh fuck...honestly? it's probably steddie. my OTP is destiel, like, they are the blueprint, they are the ones i have the most history with, but in complete honesty: in my head steddie is much more fluid/blorbo-y than destiel are. dean and cas are so fuckin' good in canon and kinda rare-er for me to find a good au with them that they still seem like themselves? if that makes sense?

with steddie, they are so moldable and fit into any spot you put them; i prefer canon adjacent but anything they do seems so correct, whereas dean and cas will always be a hunter and angel you know? that's how their story has been for so long, and all my fave fics of them are canon spn universe - a spell, a different timeline, a hunt, it's always them™

idk if that makes sense to anyone else, but maybe it's because destiel have been destiel for like 11 seasons and 15 years, and steddie have so little with only one season/summer that they are more moldable but... 🤷‍♀️

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? honestly, it's probably my hispanic!eddie au, but my casper!eddie has been falling off at an exponential rate and it's bumming me out tbh

16. What are your writing strengths? i think it's dialogue? i think that's the thing i've gotten the most comments about, the wit and snark of eddie and his internal voice, or just conversations in general. i like to think through how conversations will go in a fic first, like, how exactly they would realistically speak to each other or how an accent (wayne) would come through and how best to type it out so others can 'hear' it correctly 😊

17. What are your writing weaknesses? writing out action/feelings well. maybe it's cause i get super engrossed in what i'm writing and am looking at it too long, but a lot of the time it feels like i'm just writing "he did this 😐 and then he did this 😐 then said this."

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i do my best!!! like with the short drabble i did that started the hispanic!eddie au, i did best i could to translate the couple spanish phrases in it, but i don't speak spanish myself. my husband is hispanic and is fluent, but when i wrote that one i was much to embarrassed by why i would be asking him, that i didn't ask him to translate 😭

19. First fandom you wrote for? stranger things! the st/steddie fandom was so supportive with my secret admirer drabble that i made it my first full fic!!!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? my fave that i've written is my mixtape fic i'm outta my head over you. i wrote so much for it in such a short amount of time for steddie week but it really came together and was all me!

i do also LOVE how my version of a princess diaries rewrite came out, but the plot is just a copy of the movie and isn't really mine you know?

not sure who all has been tagged already, but here are some no pressure tags!!: @thisapplepielife, @azrielgreen, @its-steddie-time, @strawberryspence, @sayesayes, @undreaming-fanfiction, @greatunironic, @fairyfried

#noelle writes #ask game

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worldsokayestbabysitter · 2 years ago

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something something Strangers Things and Preacher's Daughter etc etc

#PLEASE i am BEGGING y'all #SOMEONE TALK TO ME ABOUT THIS #ive already written one steve fic based on a PD song #i need to write More #American Teenager is about Hawkins #House in Nebraska makes me think about Steddie angst and also Stancy angst #grr bark etc etc #ethel cain #stranger things

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justmeinadaze · 7 months ago

Text

Children of the Night Part 9 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Daddy Vampire Eddie/Switch Vampire Stevie and Sub Human/Vamp Fem Reader, SMUT, dp, dirty talk, light spanking, light choking, blood drinking (obviously), slight roughness but more passionate, FLUFF, these three weirdos love each other so much <3.

ANGST, ANGST, ANGST!!

Domestic abuse and Child abuse triggers (we learn everything about the reader here including the abuse she's gone through including gaslighting and physical abuse) It's briefly touched on how the police didn't help her. Personally I felt like this added to her mistrust of authority like that mixed in with how law enforcement handled everything that happened with Eddie in Hawkins.

S4 things are touched on including Chrissy and what happened with Lucas, Erica, and Gareth. Brief conversations with readers mom, Wayne, and Mr. Harrington (the latter being an asshole of course). I think that's everything. The main thing I wanted to focus on was the abuse triggers. I know that can be triggering especially since some of the dialogue with the mother is lifted from things my own abusive parent said to me.

Love you guys! Enjoy this final piece.

Series here/ Buy Me a Coffee :)

Word Count: 7400

StokersGirl86: “Oh my god. I’m so excited. What do you think they are going to do?!”

Dannyalwayshere1: “I imagine it’s going to big after everything going on in the news right now.”

Minaismygirl: “Eddie better release Y/N so she can come find me. I can take care of her!”

StokersGirl86: “Oh please. You really think she’s innocent in all this?!”

StokersGirl86: “She was a fan just like us. No matter what her criminal mom preaches on tv.”

LivingDeadBoy24: “Like mother like daughter :P.”

Living DeadBoy24: “Maybe Eddie will sacrifice her the same way he did Chrissy Cunningham. I’ve been reading about what happened. It’s amazing.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: “You all should be ashamed of yourselves! An innocent girl was murdered and another may be kidnapped! They don’t need to be put up on a pedestal. They need to be behind bars!”

Dannyalwayshere1: “I see you think Steve Harrington is guilty to?”

CaliforniaPD: “This is the California police department and currently we seem to be having trouble disconnecting this stream. That being the case, we do highly recommend that everyone log off this site and do not engage.”

VampQueen91: “Yeah sure. Nice try whoever you are. I thought the police already had their location. Yet they can stream??”

Minaismygirl: “Because California PD sucks lol But who knows, maybe they just need them to stream to catch them…”

The video feed begins counting down and as soon as it ends three faces illuminate everyone’s screens. Both men were shirtless with hair frayed every which way as their black eyes starred into the camera with a small smirk painted on both their lips.

“Hm. I see everyone’s here and already has opinions.”, you growl as you quickly take in everyone’s words that flew across the screen. “We wanted to come on today to set the record straight about a few things. First and foremost, Edward Munson and Steven Harrington are dead. YOU killed them when you placed blame for something they didn’t do.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: Edward Munson murdered Chrissy in his trailer in cold blood.

“Oh, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting, Andrew. You lost three friends in the span of a week to such odd circumstances. Of course, it would just be easier to blame Eddie. It’s the only thing that would make since right? Not that some other man come in and hurt her.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: I don’t know who you think I am but—

His picture suddenly flew up onto the screen for everyone to see.

“Normally I’m not one to display people’s personal business this way but after everything I’ve read and the things they told me, you can go fuck yourself. I see here while Eddie was missing you and Jason Carver assaulted a young man named Gareth in his garage. Police report says you and your friends jumped them while playing hero; broke the young man’s nose.”

The long-haired vampire growled deep from his chest at the accusation.

“It also looks like in March of 03, you tackled a middle schooler and threatened to break her arm if she didn’t tell you guys where Eddie was. That seems to be the same night Mr. Carver also beat up a young man while he was trying to protect his girlfriend. Hm. How odd that you were there for the last few deaths.”, you muse as you glance towards Steve who continues to glare forward.

“The night Steve went missing his blood was found mixed with two other jocks about your age. Friends, Andy? He tells me they were there to hurt him because he missed the man he loved. Kind of seems like violence is normal for athletes in Hawkins. Maybe that’s why Chrissy felt more comfortable with Eddie. I can’t imagine how angry that made Jason feel. Maybe angry enough…to kill?”

The count of people in the stream both drastically dropped including Andy and then suddenly increased with a new flux of people.

California PD: “Miss Y/L/N if you are in danger we can help you.

“I don’t need your help. I’m not a hostage with these men. If anything, I was a hostage growing up with the mother that you all so quickly rallied behind including you, Officer Williams. I spent my whole life dealing with people like you. Willing to believe any narrative that fit your agenda. I have been beaten and abused by almost everyone in my life but these men have done nothing but love and protect me! And you want to punish them for that?”

California PD: “Last chance Y/N. Tell us where you are and we can save you.”

“I told you… I’m safe right here…with Renfield and Dracula. My name… is Mina.”

With that both vampires bared their fangs and bit into either side of your neck.

##############

2 Weeks Before

Eddie didn’t say a word as he got up and angrily stomped back towards the bedroom.

“Baby, please.”, you pleaded as you watched him pull out the suitcases from their closet and throw them on the bed. “We had to have this conversation at some point—”

“No, we don’t. The answer will always be the same. No. Fuck no. Hell no. Take your pick.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucking said so. Now, start packing your shit because we are leaving in 30.”

“No.” The vampire paused as he slowly turned to face you. “No, fuck no, hell no. Take your fucking pick.”

Stalking towards you, he stopped till his nose was hovering just above your own.

“Get you shit and get ready to leave.”, he rumbled.

“You sound like John right now. You don’t command me, Edward.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I do. That’s what you agreed to, remember? You and Steve are mine—”

“In bed.”, Steve interrupted, coming around the corner. “In bed we belong to you. She’s still her own woman and is allowed to make her peace. Let’s hear what she has to say.”

“Steven, you and I didn’t have a choice. She does—”

“So you’re going to make it for her?” The long-haired vampire’s jaw clenches as he places his hands on his hips. “You’re right, I didn’t have a choice which is why we never had to have the conversation she wants to have but I always thought about it. If I was still human, you would have remained the same and I would have grown old. We would have lost each other again…”

Eddie’s glassy eyes glance his way as he sighs and takes a seat on the bed.

“After the last time she left and we didn’t have her…I’d rather not experience that now or even 50 years from now.”

“I guess we know what your vote is.”, he sasses.

“I think we can do this in a controlled way so what happened to us doesn’t happen to her especially since we would be doing it without her being hurt or wounded.”

“Fuck. O-Ok but I do it and we can change her after we get where we are going—”

“There’s no rush. I genuinely don’t believe they know where you are and are banking on us streaming again but we can find out. I can find out which guys are working the case and go through the digital file. I didn’t do it before because I didn’t want to put us at risk if I didn’t have to.”, you respond as you sit beside him. “I…I also think we should stream you changing me—”

“That’s a fuck no and I’m not budging on that. I don’t care what you both tell me.”

“I actually agree with him on that one, honey.”

“No, no. I mean we should do this together privately but make our fans and police believe you’re changing me. It will keep them invested to keep the revenue coming no matter where we go and show the police that we aren’t afraid of them. We now know that we can suck each other’s blood so…”

As Eddie sighs again, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek.

“I love you, Eddie. I trust you and I know I’m safe with you; both of you.”

Turning to face you, he kisses your forehead and holds you to him.

“Do what you have to do, babe, and we’ll start getting things together.”

***

While the guys packed and ran out to grab some extra blood packs, you did some research into the people hunting for you three. You were right that they hadn’t found you yet but they were getting closer. One of the officers grabbed one of Dustin’s pings he created and traced it to the next town over.

“Hey pretty girl.”, Steve cooed as he slumped down onto his knees beside you. “What did you find out?”

“We’re still ok. They haven’t found us yet and from what I see here they most likely need us to stream again. Now this is a new development.”

Moving the mouse, you click on the news website in the background and play the clip you stumbled on earlier that day.

“So you say, Mrs. Y/L/N, you saw Y/N with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson?”

“Yes! Oh my goodness.”, your mother sobbed. “She came to visit me in the hospital because I was sick. She was always such a sweet girl. They threatened my life and then dragged her away. They are awful people.”

Feeling your anger, Eddie swished into the room as the other vampire petted your head.

“If you could say anything to your daughter, what would it be?”

“You monsters let my baby go! I love you, Y/N! So…so much…I can’t…”

“That’s not all I found.”, you whisper, clicking another link and pressing play.

“Mr. Munson! Mr. Munson! How do feel about the content your nephew is posting? Do you think he’ll kill Y/N like he did Chrissy?”

“Get off my property! My nephew…my nephew is dead. Haven’t you and this town sullied his memory enough!”

“Police seem to have strong evidence that this is Edward Munson.”

“Well, if he is alive…I hope he stays away. He can be happier with Steven away from these fuckers!” Eddie’s uncle pauses before entering the house the reporters were following him to. “I also want him to know that I love and miss him. I hope your happy, son.”

Steve grabs his partner’s hand as his stoic features faulter and tears begin to slowly fall that he quickly wipes away.

“Mr. and Mrs. Harrington! Anything to say about your son?!”

“We’ve made a statement already! Go away!”

The vampire’s eyes narrow at the sound of his dad’s voice.

“You really don’t think that’s your son in the videos?”

“I know for a fact that’s not my son. No son of mine would engage in that behavior nor be in a relationship with a freak like Edward *beep* Munson. Now leave us be so we can grieve our son in peace!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be, honey.”, he sighs shaking away the frustration. “We, um, got some more blood and we got you some more clothes. We found a house up north; I just need to—”

Eddie’s lips cut his boyfriend off as he cupped his face in his hands and pulled his body closer to his own. When he finally pulled away both boys were panting heavily.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

The pretty vampire smiled softly as his fingers lightly moved some of the other man’s hair out of his face.

“I love you to, Eddie Munson.” His mouth gently kissed him again as he began to sing making the metalhead breathily chuckle. “I’d give up forever to touch you. Cause I know that you feel me somehow.”

“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now.”, he sings back. “We don’t have a song for Y/N.”

“Oh, I don’t need one. It’s ok.”

“No, no, baby. Let’s see what we got.”, Steve smiles as he pushes the button on the stereo and starts searching through stations. He and Eddie cringe as a few come through that aren’t suitable in anyway making you laugh.

“Hey, wait. Go back.” After the vampire does what he asks, you three listen as the long-haired boy grins and bobs his head.

“And I wonder When I sing along with you

If everything could ever be this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when She sang…”

Taking ahold of your hand, Eddie spins you as you both smile and he sings along.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard this one before.”, Steve muses as he watches you two dance.

After letting you go, you grab a hold of his waist and he circles his arms around you as you sing.

“Breathe out So I can breathe you in Hold you in And now I know you've always been…”

Smiling, his lips kiss your forehead as you press your head into his chest.

“I love you both so much.”

“We love you to, sweetheart.”, Eddie replies as he comes behind you and holds you both tightly.

***

“What if I kill you.”

“You won’t, baby. I trust you.”, you try to comfort as you cup his cheek.

Nodding, he tilted towards you, placing soft tender kisses on your lips and along your cheek to your neck. When you feel him hesitate, you run your fingers through his hair and whisper adoration for him as you wait.

When his fangs bit into you, you were surprised how fast you blood left your body. Steve’s worried eyes watched as the color left your face and the sight killed him. Your eyes rolled shut and a tear left his eye as the memory of finding Eddie in the upside down flashed through his mind.

The vampire wanted to calm him but he couldn’t.

He had to focus on you.

After releasing his hold on you, he hurriedly wiped your blood from his chin and bit into his wrist offering it to you.

“Come on, baby girl. Come on. We need you to drink.” Just as Steve’s had, your eyes snapped open as the sweet taste hit your lips and you began to drink from him. “Fuck…good girl, princess. Mmph…There you go.”

Abruptly, you detached from his arm and passed out against the pillow as Eddie began to dizzily fall back.

“Whoa, honey. I got you. Are you ok?”

“B-Blood, Steve. I need… please.”

He didn’t waste any time, running to the kitchen and back as he tore the bag open for his partner to take.

“What happens now?”

“Now, we wait.”

Neither man left your side as they kept a diligent eye on you. Eddie held your hand while Steve kept his palm on your chest to make sure you were still breathing.

“It’s weird…I can’t feel her anymore.”

“When she wakes up you will and it will be more in tune. When you woke up that feeling was incredibly strong.”

Hearing the sadness in his voice, Steve reaches over runs his fingers along his face.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“Everything.” Eddie glances his way and his boyfriend’s loving gaze fills him with warmth. “I never thought about the future. I guess because I was stuck like this…it didn’t even occur to me that you two would age and I wouldn’t. When would you have asked me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know how to bring it up. All I really wanted was for us to have what we always talked about. A happy, simple life away from all the bullshit in Hawkins.” Steve grins when his partner chuckles. “A nice two-bedroom home where we could settle down and have a family. Three boys and three girls you and I would spoil rotten. I would work some office job with so-so benefits and brag about my rockstar husband who was on tour but coming home soon.”

Eddie couldn’t hold it in anymore as the last couple days events hit him and he began to cry.

“I know, honey. I know”, he cooed as he held his free hand.

#############

The sound of something crashing to the ground startles both vampires as they sit up and jump out of bed realizing you were no longer between them. They could feel you though; fuck could they feel you.

“Jesus, Eddie…”, Steve groaned as his head lulled to the side.

“I-I know. Stay focused. We need t-to get our girl back first.”

“I don’t know if I can.”, the vampire whined as his palm began absently grazing the bulge in his pants.

“You will because I told you to, little boy. Do you understand?”, Eddie hissed.

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

Slowly moving down the hall, they searched every nook and cranny before something loud in the kitchen caught their attention. They found you on the floor balancing on your heels in your bra and shorts they had laid you down in. The sound of your growling filled the room as you continued to bang on the refrigerator door with your palm.

“Y/N.”

Jumping at the sound of Eddie’s voice, you fell on to your butt and pressed your back to the cabinets as your black eyes glared his way.

“Sweetheart, everything’s ok. You’re alright.”

It took you moment but something in your face softened and your crawled towards him, pushing him back slightly before banging your hand on the door again.

“Daddy. Hungry.”

“You’re hungry, baby?” Reaching in, he takes out a bag and tears it open, handing it to you. Your wide eyes watch him as if he’s figured out a riddle you had spent thousands of years trying to solve and when he offers you what you want, you take it from him without question and chug it back. “Good. Good girl.”

After three blood packs and a peaceful smile on your face, even Eddie could still feel a hunger within you.

“What do you need, pretty girl? Tell me.”

Steve couldn’t control it any longer as his eyes darkened and his own hunger took over. Grabbing his partner’s shirt, he pushed him to the side as he began to crawl towards you. In your state, you perceived the action as hostile and practically roared as you tackled his chest, pinning him to the floor.

“NO! Bad boy…hurt…Daddy!”

His wrists tried to push against your hands but you were much stronger than before. Eddie couldn’t help but be utterly fascinated as he watched you both interact.

“Say…SORRY!” When he hesitates, your nose presses to his as you growl in a low voice that makes them both hard. “Now.”

“Sorry…Daddy…Sorry, honey.”

At the term, your eyes blink in surprise as you sit up slightly to gaze along his features. Steve’s own black irises search your face for recognition, finding it in your sudden shift of demeanor.

“Steve…”, you coo as lean down and run your nose up his bare, hairy chest to his neck. “Boy…hungry?” He nods emphatically, literally ripping your shorts from your body after pulling down his pants enough to free his cock. “Ask.”

A small whine leaves him as he turns to face Eddie whose eyes were now also black as he stroked his own length while watching you.

“Daddy…hungry. Please?”

He growled in response, hastily coming up to take his place behind you and runs his tongue up your spine to your shoulder. You mewl as you lower yourself down onto the man beneath you, gripping his neck to pull him up so you could press his head into your chest. Clinging to your hips, the metalhead guided himself into your ass and your head fell back onto his shoulder as they both roughly thrust into you.

When their fangs pierced your skin, you clenched around them causing them both to grunt and hold you tighter.

“Steve…Eddie…fuck.”

As your fingers tangled into his hair, you bit down on the pretty boy’s shoulder and his moan reverberated through the house as his body shook while releasing his seed inside you. The metalhead circled around to rub fast circles into your clit and you came off Steve with a heavy pant as he fell back onto the floor.

Taking ahold of his arm pressed to your chest, you brought it to your mouth as you bit into the skin. Eddie’s head flew back as your pussy quivered around him and you came hard. Yanking your hair, he shoved your face next to his boyfriend’s as he chased his high and with a few more aggressive thrusts warmed your insides.

Heavy breathing filled the room as both boys passed out beside you.

#################

5-year-old you pulls her knees to her chin as you hid under the kitchen table listening to your parents fight.

“Fuck you! You want to leave me than fucking leave and take that little brat with you.”

“I can’t! Jesus, you never listen! Marnie, doesn’t want kids right now.”

“Oh, oh. The slut doesn’t want kids so I guess whatever she says goes. I didn’t want kids either yet here we are!”, your mother slurs.

You listen to the sound of his footsteps as he stomps out the door leaving you behind. Glass shatters as the beer bottle she threw hits the wall before she falls to her knees and sobs.

12-year-old you cries as the police officer lifts you into his arms and tries to carry you out of the foster home you were physically fighting to stay in.

“Y/N, come on! You need to go be with your mom.”

“NO! I want to stay here! Please don’t make me go back!” You kick the officer, hitting his stomach causing him to drop you to the floor. As fast as you could you get up and run to the woman you had been calling mom for over 6 months. “Please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise!”

“Sweetheart, listen to me.”, she empathetically murmurs as she sinks to her knees. “It’s time for you to be with your mom. Who knows maybe things will be different this time.”

“It-It won’t. It never is.”

You and your boyfriend panted as you tried to catch your breath hiding under the pier.

“Woo, that was close!”, he laughs as 15-year-old you grins up at him. “But hey, now we can eat.”

Tossing the wallet to the side, he takes out the money and reaches for your hand as he guides up the bank towards the stores above. After purchasing a burger and some fries, you both share it as he lights a cigarette and stares off into the distance.

“I love you.”

“I love you to, babe.”, you smile as you bite into a fry.

When his fingers reach out to touch your face, you can’t help but flinch when his thumb grazes the cut on your lip from when he thought you were giving him attitude.

“I really do. Things are going to get better, Y/N. I promise.”

She couldn’t even make it three months. The police had brought you back home and as soon as they left your mother went off about you running away and how that made her look. By the third month, you tried to leave again and she stopped you.

“What happened to your arm, Y/N? You said you fell?”, the doctor asked as he began wrapping the cast around the limb.

You didn’t move or say a word as you stared off into the void. What was the point? The cops knew how she was yet they kept bringing you back. Even if you told this doctor the truth it wouldn’t matter.

“Sweetheart, I can help you. I just need you to tell me what happened.” The man sighs when you remain silent before whispering under his breath. “You don’t have to say anything just nod your head, ok? Did you fall?”

Your eyes meet his for a brief moment before autopilot takes over and you shake your head.

“Did your mother do this? Did she grab you?”

You nod.

“Ok.”

You stare at the screen in front of you as two men known as Renfield and Dracula make love to each other before biting his neck. A heavy sigh left you at the action and the human boy’s moan hit straight to your heart down to your core.

You had been watching them for over a month now and you couldn’t explain it but something about them just pulled you in. Hearing their voices and watching how they took care of each other made you feel safe. It’s part of the reason you kept coming back even though you knew if John ever found out you were seeing this he’d probably kill you.

That following day you were surprised when a message from the site appeared when you signed in from the creators themselves inviting you to a private session.

When their faces illuminated your screen, a little sigh left your chest. They were both so handsome up close. Because of the technology, you weren’t able to really see their features before but now you could see them in all their glory. Dracula’s eyes fluttered slightly behind his mane of hair.

“Hey Mina.”

Renfield glances his way in surprise as his partner spoke. Usually, he was the one that did the bulk of the talking so when he initiated, he was taken a back.

InnocentLittleMina: Hello.

“Hey, honey. We, um, we just wanted to reach out to you because we see you pop up from time to time. You don’t talk or engage very much.”

InnocentLittleMina: Yeah. A lot of the people here are kind of rude.

“Ha. Yeah they are. We were wondering and we understand if you say no but would you want to work for us? Dracula says a moderator could really help us get some control over these people. You don’t have to tell us your name or anything. We can send money straight to your account.”

InnocentLittleMina: You’d pay me?

“Yeah, honey. Of course.”

“However much you want.”, Dracula adds again making his partner’s head quirk to the side. “You just…seem like a kind person with a good heart.”

InnocentLittleMina: You don’t know me.

“We’d like to.”

His words flow through you almost as if you can feel how genuine they are. What’s the worst that could happen?

InnocentLittleMina: “Ok. I’d love to help.”

***

Both men groan as their eyes open and take in the scene before them. After what they saw, they couldn’t care less. They just needed to find you.

Rising to their feet, they power walk down the hall to find you closing a suitcase and quietly taking a seat on the bed. Your eyes lock with theirs as you softly smile and shrug.

“See? I told you I had experienced real monsters.”

“Sweetheart.”, Eddie breathed as he sat beside you and pulled you to his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry you went through all that. We would never ever fucking hurt you like them.”

“Or let anyone hurt you like that.”, Steve added as he knelt in front of you. “How are you feeling?”

“Calm. Clear. It’s weird. I’ve never felt like this before. I feel like I’m…home.”

“Because you are, baby.”, the pretty boy cooed as he kissed your palms.

“While you two were asleep, I packed up some clothes for us. I’m not sure what else we need.”

“Let me see if that relator guy called.”

After he disappeared, the metalhead cupped your face in his hands as his eyes ran along your face. You still looked like the girl they fell in love with but you seemed to have this air of confidence surrounding you that made him fall even harder.

“I wish I could have seen your life the way I saw his and you two saw mine. I think it’s because him and I are new…”

“Oh, baby girl, trust me. You don’t want to see that. Not all in succession like that. Everything kind of sucked till I met Steve. Before him it was a blur of heartache and anger.” When he sighed, your palm circled around the back of his neck and brought his forehead down to yours eliciting a small, nervous chuckle to fall from his lips. “Fuck…are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”, you murmur.

“Y/N, I’m a jaded asshole.”, he laughed. “It takes me a while to trust anyone and feel safe but the feeling running through me right now… God it’s so quiet. I can breathe.”

“Because that’s how I feel with you two, Daddy. You’re feeling me.”

“Fuck, Y/N.”, he groaned, his lips falling to the side of your neck.

“Wait…Wait, Eddie. I need to show you both something first.”

####################

Present Day

“Ok, Williams, we’re right outside the door. Going in, in two.”

The officer paces around his desk as he glares at the screen watching both men continue to feed while blood drips down your neck.

“Good. They’re still streaming in front of their computer. Be careful! They shouldn’t be armed but I’m not sure if they’ll react hostilely.”

“Entering in, 3, 2, 1. GO, BOYS!”

As soon as the door kicked in, a little box appears at the corner of your current feed showing the raiding team running through the house. Everything was still in its place including the blood staining the floor by the fridge.

“We have all eyes on us, guys. Go slow.”

When they find the bedroom, they scream into the void for you three to get down…

Only to find now one there.

The swat leader walked towards the computer, tearing off the note that was taped to the screen.

“I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there.

Our souls are knit into one, for all life and all time.

-Mina”

“FUCK!”, Officer Williams shouted as he kicked the chair in front of him.

CaliforniaPD: You can keep running all you want but you are just making it harder on yourselves! We found you once and we can find you again!”

You whine as your head falls against Steve’s chest and your black eyes flash towards the screen with a small smile.

“Good luck with that. I’m sorry to say, for you, we’re a lot stronger now than we’ve ever been.”, Eddie rumbled sarcastically towards the camera.

As you pull away to lean against the metalhead’s shoulder, the other vampire growls low with needs as his head follows yours for a moment before hesitating to focus on the camera.

“We don’t want any trouble. We just want to be left alone to be happy together but we will gladly do this dance again to keep ourselves protected and keep her safe!”

Your palm ran down his back, calming him as he tilted his head to place open mouth kisses on your shoulder as his own hand absently traveled under your shirt to run along the skin of your stomach. Eddie growled at the action as both vampires glared at each other. Grabbing his throat, the long-haired boy pulled his boyfriend’s lips to his own passionately.

“I think you all have had enough of a show…and I’m…hungry.” At the last word, your tone drops and after you wink towards the camera, you move the mouse, and shut it down.

***

“Did you guys see that? Over one million people were watching us!”, you giggle excitedly.

“Mhmm.”

Both vampires were still distracted as they detached from each other to kiss your neck again. Grinning as you bit your lip, wind messed their hair as you flash ran towards the other side of your new shared bedroom.

“Oh, come on, boys. Now focus.”

Trying to run after you, you hastily sprinted away, your beautiful laugh filling the new house you three were going to be living in. Eddie was the one to catch you first, practically tackling you to the ground in the living room and pinning your wrists beside your head.

“Hi, Daddy.”

As you beam up at him, he can’t help but smile down at you before bringing his lips to yours. Your hands flex in his grip but he remains steadfast as he kisses softly down your body and over your blood-stained shirt.

Steve crawls towards you both on his hands and knees, falling onto his tummy with his hand grabbing your cheek to turn your head so he could kiss you. Letting you go, your hands remain where they are as Eddie pulls down your panties and tosses them to the side.

His strong palms dig into your thighs as he lifts your legs over his shoulders and you moan against the other man’s lips as Eddie presses his face into your cunt wasting no time as his mouth devours you.

Your legs close around him and he mewls into you as your back arches off the floor.

“Fuck, Daddy! Your mouth feels so good.”

Maneuvering behind him, Steve spreads his partners legs a bit wider and his groans vibrate through your core as the pretty boy runs his tongue between Eddie’s cheeks. You grin blissfully as you watch the sight before you and you run your fingers through the metalhead’s hair.

“That’s it, honey. Fuck. Make our girl cum. Jesus, Y/N, I can feel how good he’s making you feel. Daddy’s so fucking amazing with that mouth isn’t he? It’s why he never shuts up.”

Eddie’s growls turn into moans when his boyfriend effortlessly slides two fingers inside him while pushing his head harder against your pussy.

“Oh, god!”

Your eyes roll back as you grind your hips against the vampire’s tongue till you tumble over the edge and cum. Releasing him from your grip around his shoulders, you pant as you try to catch your breath, shuddering at the feel of Eddie’s heavy exhales fanning your dripping core.

You’re not sure if it was the dominance within him or just how sexy both men looked right now but something inside you bubbled forward and you rushed towards them, tackling Steve to the floor.

“Hungry!”

Abruptly an arm wrapped around your stomach and pushed you back against the hardwood.

“No.”, the long-haired vampire hissed as his hand clung to your throat. “You ask, little girl. The rules haven’t changed. Not yet anyway.”

“Want…boy!”

“Beg me, Y/N.”, he cooed in a sultry voice that had both you and the other man whining. “Beg Daddy, baby girl.”

“Please, Daddy. Want…” You pause as you blink, trying to clear the fog and intense need from your brain so you could focus. “I want Steve. Please, may I…have him.”

As the black irises disappear and your natural eye color returns so does his as he smiles before giving you a tender kiss. After moving out of the way, he ushers Steve between your legs and helps lift your shirt over your head.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I just couldn’t—”

“Control yourself. I know, honey. I understand. You’re doing a lot better than I did though.” He taps his cock against your sensitive clit a couple of times making you jump and you both let out a strangled moan as he slides himself inside of you. “Shit. Always so fucking good.”

Falling on to your chest, he rolls his waist as you cling to his shoulders, leaving little pecks along his skin. When you bite into his flesh, he grunts loudly and snaps his hips hard, punching his length deep inside your heat.

As he picks up his pace, you release him and he pushes up onto his knees, looping his arms under the back of your own so he can hold your legs open. Feeling someone near him, he opens his eyes to be met with his boyfriend’s cock in his face. Steve opened his mouth willingly and Eddie’s mouth fell open as he bobbed his head, taking him as far back as he could.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Such a good boy. Jesus, I love watching you two together.”

Threading his fingers through his hair, the metalhead groaned as he fucked his partner’s face making you whine and clench around his own cock every time you heard him gag.

“Mmm—there you go, Steve. Make our pretty girl cum.”

Shoving Eddie’s stomach, Steve growled with need as he pushed him out of his way and wrapped his arms around your back, lifting you up till you were face to face with him. Hugging him to your chest, you used his neck as leverage as you bounced and grinded against him.

When his fangs pierced your skin, your eyes squeezed shut as you did the same, taking him in as his hands grabbed the meat of your ass, guiding your movements till you trembled and came. Steve grunted at the feeling, pushing you back down onto the floor and pounding his cock into you so deeply you swear you could feel him in your stomach, through your heart, and into your soul.

“Fuck!”, he growled in his deep vampire tone as his movements stalled and you whined as he pumped his spend aggressively into your cunt.

You couldn’t help but breathily giggle as Steve continued to run his lips and tongue along your body. Pushing his chest, you disappeared from underneath him but Eddie anticipated your move, running ahead of you and slamming his palm against the wall as his arm shot out to stop you. Before you could run the other way, he blocked you and pinned your front side to the hallway.

His hand playfully spanked your behind and you both mewled as he guided his cock into your entrance.

“Oh, fuck, Daddy.”

Intertwining his fingers with yours, Eddie held your hands above your head and thrust his hips roughly against yours, his humid pants in your ear turning you on even more.

“Shit…baby. Your little pussy is…so fucking perfect. J-Just like you.”

Hastily, he pulls out, turns you around to face him, and lifts you into his strong arms as you reach down to slide his length back inside you. You cling to him as he fucks his cock deep into your core leaving you both grunting into the other face. Not being able to wait, you bite into his neck and he growls loudly before doing the same.

After dropping one of your legs, Eddie balances his forearm on the wall next to your head as aggressively takes what’s his. Your body shakes as the coil breaks in your tummy causing the metalhead himself to fall over the ledge as he thrust his release inside you.

As you slump over in his embrace, you feel wind move your hair as Steve runs to the bathroom to turn on the shower and Eddie lifts you again so your legs are wrapped around him as he carries you that way. You can feel it in their energies, they are just as exhausted as you, leaning against you, each other, or the wall to keep from falling over.

You barely even feel it when they dry you and carry you over to the bed.

#############

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“I don’t know. I think…I think something’s wrong with Mina.” Eddie sighs when Steve turns away from him and focuses on the computer in front of him. “She feels…alone. I don’t like it, Steven. It reminds me of how I felt growing up with my dad.”

“There’s nothing we can do, Ed.”

“We can—”

“No. We’re not having this discussion again.”

“Why?! Why would it be so bad to bring her here? It feels like she’d be safer with us than wherever she is now!”

“Eddie, have you taken a look around? We’re on the run, you’re a vampire, we do this internet stuff for money. It’s not exactly lavish!”

Both men glare at each other as their computer pings informing them that you were online.

“Hey, Mina. O-Oh my god. What happened?”, Steve gasps as he and his partner take in the slowly forming ring around your eye.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m so clumsy and fell. Thankfully John was here to help me.”

“Yeah…thankfully…”, Eddie growled towards Steve as his heart broke for you.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Why?”, you giggle as you shrug. “You didn’t do this to me, Renfield. I did it to myself.”

***

Your glassy eyes take him in as your boyfriend huffs around the bedroom before kneeling in front of you to place an ice pack on your cheek. All you wanted him to do was leave so you could talk to Renfield and Dracula.

You had no idea how you were going to explain this new wound to them. It was so weird having people in your life who genuinely cared about your wellbeing and you found yourself lying to them more than you ever did to keep any of your toxic partners or family calm.

They were your friends…you didn’t want them to worry…

“This is your fault. Why do you push me like that, Y/N?”

“I just asked you when you were getting off work…”

You jump as he tosses the pack hard against the wall.

“See? It’s that fucking attitude!”

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper, fully giving up and accepting blame so all this would end.

Sighing, he runs his fingers along your arm as his own eyes scan you over.

“Will you be alright?”

He takes your nod as enough confirmation, rising to his feet and finally leaving your house. Gradually, you stand as well and head to the bathroom to wash your face.

Sitting in front of your computer, you stare at the screen as you debate on rescheduling with them but you are so desperate for a kind voice to say something…anything…to comfort you from the current hell you’re in.

***

Your eyes slowly opened just as the sun was beginning to descend behind your black out curtains, smiling softly when they land on Steve’s gentle yet sad expression.

“It’s ok.”, you murmur as you reach out to caress his cheek.

Catching your hand mid-air, he brings it to his lips as he scoots closer to your frame.

“It’s not. You could have been with us this whole time.”

“Steve, you didn’t know—”

“But I should have. Eddie saved me from my father and took me in when everything was falling apart in my house. He always told me he understood and I was always grateful for that. I should have known the first time he felt something.”

“But you’re here now.”, Eddie replied groggy from sleep as you rolled onto your back so you could see them both. “Y/N, if ever you don’t want to play rough or anything like that, you know we’d still love you. I don’t want to trigger you or—”

“No, baby, no. You’re not.”, you assure him. “With my mom and my exes… I never had any kind of control over what was happening. With you two, even last night, I know you’d stop if I asked. I can feel it.”

Eddie sighs pleasantly when you place your palm on his chest.

“Speaking of last night, you were really sexy, Miss Computer Hacker, hiding those skills under that beautiful head of hair.” You laugh as he leans in to tenderly kiss your neck.

“You’re both safe with me to. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Steve tilts down to slowly kiss your skin as well making you groan as you turn into Eddie’s chest making him chuckle as he presses you to him. The other vampire’s hairy chest grazes your back and you grin as you listen to them kiss above you.

“What do you want to tonight, honey?”, Steve whispered as his fingers ran up your arms.

“We seem to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways.”, you recited making the metalhead laugh again.

“So did you just memorize the book or?”

“It’s one of my favorites.”, you beam up at him as you kiss his lips and crane your neck to do the same with the other man. “We can rewrite the ending though.”

###################

@chelebelletx @mandyjo8719 @nailbatanddungeon @corkadymu

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