#steve harrington is too but he doesn't know it yet

[harrygroves]

harringrove - wish you were sober - conan gray

the summer is one big party - the stretch between graduating high school and waiting for college to start - for most of them at least. a handful of post-seniors are staying in Hawkins, starting shifts at gas stations and retail shops, but they're too young to care about going to work hungover, sometimes still drunk as they stumble to their jobs.

billy's not going anywhere, not yet at least. no money. but he's got the job at the garage as an apprentice mechanic and he plans to save every penny he can as quickly as possible so he can escape from under his father's oppressive thumb.

steve, on the other hand, is preparing to be shipped off across the country to his father's college of choice.

in the interim, he's drinking like he's going off to war - everyone is.

parties nearly every day at one house or another, whoever's parents are out for the night is in charge of hosting.

it's weird, like the adults have all silently agreed to let this happen, like they're thinking "well, as long as the kids are doing this at the house, just let them be."

as far as billy knows, no one's gotten any heat for the parties - as long as people don't break shit, like the pool table someone jumped on last Tuesday - yeah, that house is no longer allowing entry.

they're at...someone's house, billy doesn't keep track. just picks steve up and drives them both to wherever steve directs him to.

billy watches steve from across the living room as he guffaws at something a tiny, blonde girl says to him.

billy clutches his cup of shitty rum tighter, feels his eye tick in annoyance.

the music's too loud, the liquors too weak, and there's too many girls orbiting around billy for his liking, sneaking glances, "accidentally" bumping into him.

he's super over it.

grimacing, billy fishes his pack of smokes from his tight jeans and ambles his way through the fleshy crowd until he gets outside.

the parties poured into the lawn, but it's less...people-y out here. there's room to fucking breathe.

he walks around to the side of the house where there are even less people and lights up a cigarette.

"one for me?" he hears. he hadn't realized steve had followed him.

steve's face is red, words slurred, eyes shuttered permanently at half-mast.

"mhmm." billy grunts back, offering his pack.

steve's fingers work slow but he manages to get one out.

he puts it in his mouth backwards, butt end sticking out.

billy reaches over and plucks it from his mouth. steve's lips remain puckered until billy puts it back the right way. steve doesn't even notice. billy lights the cigarette for him and steve inhales to get the cherry started. he leans back against the side of the house, but does it too hard and makes a loud thump sound. steve groans, maybe in pain, maybe from the cigarette.

"'m drunk." steve mutters around the cigarette.

"really?" billy replies sarcastically.

"sooo drinking."

"i see that."

steve hums and closes his eyes, giving billy the chance to stare at him, eyes tracing over his features greedily.

the want. it aches inside him. but he swallows hard, ignores the pang in his heart, and looks down at his shoes.

they smoke in silence. well - billy smokes, steve lets the cigarette burn, holding it limply in his mouth as he wastes it.

once billy is finished, he takes the cigarette from steve's mouth and puts them both out.

"let's go harrington."

"don't wanna."

"too bad. you're sleeping on your feet."

"nuh-uh." steve's eyes slide open and he tries to stand up straight, ends up leaning too far forward.

billy reaches an arm out and grabs around the front of his shoulders to stop him from falling.

"c'mon pretty boy. let's get you in bed."

"taking me to bed hargrove?" steve mumbles, tone teasing, a tiny smile pulling at his lips.

"shut up steve." billy grumbles, making sure steve is standing before letting him go.

the comment makes his face flush so he walks ahead of steve, hoping harrington is following.

he is. steve presses himself against the passenger side of billy's car, like he's going to phase through the door. billy rolls his eyes and helps, grabbing steve's shirt and pulling on him slightly, maneuvering him to lean against the back of the car so he can get the door open.

"so touchy." steve giggles and billy huffs.

"get your ass in the car harrington." he says tightly as he holds open the door.

steve giggles again and collapses inside the vehicle.

while driving, steve messes with the radio, has his window rolled down all the way, sings off-key and asks billy for another cigarette.

billy lets steve do what he wants. always does.

they get back to steve's house and billy turns the radio down as he rolls to a stop in front of the large, dark house.

"parents out again?" billy asks.

"yup. who knows where." steve says, slightly more awake because of the music and the wind in his face as billy had driven.

"need help getting inside?"

steve shoots him a look billy can't decipher. "trying to get invited in, hargrove?"

"steve, knock it off. jesus."

"what? it's a joke." steve says with a huge smile.

"'s not funny." billy mumbles, looking away so he doesn't have to look at steve's face.

steve is quiet for a moment, the pause making billy swallow roughly.

"yeah." steve says. "help me in."

billy doesn't respond, just cuts the engine and gets out.

steve still can't stand straight. billy grabs at his arm and helps him.

steve is wasted. every time he moves forward he suddenly lurches left or right, equilibrium fucked.

they get to the door. steve checks all his pockets until he comes up with his house key. he misses the lock three times before managing to insert it.

"thanks billy." steve manages to say as the door pushes open.

"yup. see you tomorrow." billy says, half-turning away.

"no, wait, wait." steve mumbles.

billy feels the tug on his jacket.

"hmm?" he turns and then steve's hands are cupping his cheeks.

what the fuck

what the fucking fuck

fuck???

steve's warm mouth presses against billy's. his mouth is damp, lips slightly parted, and he pushes forward, kissing.

they're kissing.

steve is fucking kissing him.

billy's heart jumps, his eyes shut, his breath hitching.

what the FUCK?

steve makes a sound and billy almost dies right there on the steps.

shit, they're outside.

billy jerks back, steve sways forward, eyes opening in confusion.

"steve." billy says hoarsely.

"g'night." steve says, face flushed, eyes dark.

then he just turns around and shuts the door in billy's face.

"fuck...fuck." billy says, hands shaking, knees like jelly.

he stands in front of the door for a long minute, going back and forth in his mind between knocking on the door and running away.

he leaves.

steve spends the rest of the summer getting black-out drunk, kissing billy when he's dropped off, sometimes following billy outside and kissing him against the side of whatever house they're at, pushing billy into the bathroom and kissing him up against the door.

kissing billy but never talking about it.

never remembering it.

billy lets him. it kills him. it makes him hard. it makes him want to cry.

but he lets him.

he'll always let him.

[inthedarknessofnight]

I watched The Holdovers for the first time over the holidays (loved it btw), and for some reason I've also been getting flashbacks to last year when I basically devoured The Secret History and If We Were Villains back to back... And because I have this little devil on my shoulder constantly telling me to Steddie-fy everything, my brain immediately went like, ‘but what if Steve and Eddie both ended up stuck at their college campus over winter break.’ Consider this my pathetic attempt at their little forced-proximity romance story.

So, without further ado, I give you... Part 1

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Steve Harrington leaned out of his dorm room window, filling his lungs with the chilly air of a New Hampshire winter morning. Underneath him, the courtyard was brimming with students scurrying left and right, bags of various shapes and sizes slung over their shoulders, and even an occasional suitcase being dragged through the wet slush that covered the paved pathways, courtesy of last night’s snowstorm. Lively chatter echoed off the walls of the residence halls enclosing the courtyard, as his fellow students tried to squeeze in as many well-wishes, festive greetings, and goodbyes as they could, before their designated rides took them to whichever overpriced holiday destination their families chose this year. Steve tried his best to avoid getting too morose about it all, focusing on fumbling around his jacket pocket for a cigarette and lighter. He knew Patrick, their resident assistant, would have been on his ass before he even drew the first breath, but to everyone’s great surprise, he’d started his holiday a week early, prompting Steve and pretty much every other person in the building to take up smoking out of the window.

As soon as the first plume of smoke hit his lungs, Steve could feel the negative thoughts trickling away. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and exhaled, savouring the moment. Unfortunately, his moment of bliss was short-lived, as Tommy Hagan barged into his room in his usual fashion—without so much as a knock.

“Harrington! You trying to get sent home or something?” Tommy asked, an annoying smirk stretching across his face.

“Fuck you, Hagan. I’m not that stupid, okay? RA’s gone, it’s basically a free-for-all over here,” Steve replied nonchalantly and leaned out again, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Alright, alright, we get it, Henderson Hall’s the coolest. Unless y’all burn it down,” Tommy clicked his tongue, “then, probably not so much,” he delivered what, Steve could only assume, was supposed to be the punchline. When Tommy realised Steve wasn’t going to deign that with a response, he merely scoffed and continued.

“So, hey. I thought I’d check if you’ve changed your mind about that ski trip? I know you said you wanted to stay here, catch up on whatever crap you’ve got going on with that ridiculous degree of yours, but…” Steve glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Tommy quirk an eyebrow at him suggestively. “Well, Carol stayed at that same place with her family last year, and according to her, they have a sauna and, like, a bunch of hot tubs. And, umm… Tammy will be there, if you know what I mean,” Tommy winked at him.

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction Tommy expected from him, especially since he’d never really had a thing for Tammy beyond them hooking up a few times during their first year of college. In fact, he had no intention of going on that trip if Phoebe Cates herself walked in and personally offered him daily blowjobs. But he couldn’t exactly look Tommy in the eye and say, ‘Funny story—I got into a fight with my dad because he’s being an asshole, and now he’s refusing to give me any more money unless I come home and talk it through with him in person’. Instead, it was easier to turn around, face Tommy, and say…

“Nah, man. Already told my parents I can’t come to Cancun with them, because I need to study or I might fail and waste three years’ worth of their precious investments in my education,” which they didn’t even approve of in the first place, Steve finished the sentence in the privacy of his own mind. “They’d probably skin me alive if they found out I blew them off just so I could run off with you guys.” At least he didn’t have to lie about that last part.

“Dude, aren’t you, like, majoring in philosophy, or some shit? I thought you guys just sit around and talk all day,” Tommy scoffed. Philosophy and drama, actually, Steve thought, but knew all too well the addition would do little to help his case, so he didn’t bother correcting him.

“Yeah, well… Apparently, you have to have at least some idea what you’re talking about before you get to ‘just sit and talk,’” Steve countered. “But, hey, for all it’s worth, I really appreciate the offer, man. You enjoy that sauna for the both of us, okay?” He threw Tommy a wink, which immediately caused him to cringe internally. Tommy, resigned to being unable to persuade him, simply shook his head and shrugged.

“I don’t get you man but, uh, suit yourself,” Tommy said after a brief moment of consideration and gave Steve a dismissive wave. “Have a good one. I’ll see you after break, Harrington,” he added before promptly turning his back to Steve and exiting the room.

With Tommy gone, Steve felt like he could finally breathe again. The feeling didn’t last, though. A cold breeze blew through the open window, bringing with it a familiar feeling of loneliness that always settled deep inside his bones. Steve knew all too well the feeling had nothing to do with a little movement of air. Because it felt more like an old wound reopening. Because maybe it’s always been here, Steve admitted quietly. Etched into his skin. Blended into his marrow. Flowing through him like blood through his veins. It was the kind of cold he couldn’t just close a window on, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he opted to close the one in front of him, making sure to stub out the cigarette he’d left burning on the windowsill before lowering the window pane and twisting the handle. He leaned his forearms on the inner ledge and rested his forehead against the cool glass. It was only a few weeks. He could do this. After all, he was used to empty rooms and haunted halls—these just happened to be slightly bigger empty rooms and haunted halls. Right?

—

Steve Harrington had never been more wrong. By the time day three of his self-imposed exile rolled around, he was fairly certain he was losing his mind. The worst thing was, he couldn’t do anything about it.

The first weekend passed with little fanfare, the campus growing quieter with each passing day. From Monday morning onwards, the whole thing was practically haunted. In fact, Steve was the only occupant left in Henderson Hall, barring some guy in the room down the hall from him. Steve didn’t really know him, but he was pretty sure he was a Music major—a suspicion the asshole happily confirmed by treating the seemingly empty dorm to a full-on concert in the middle of the night. When Steve ran into him in the dorm’s communal kitchen the following morning, the guy looked startled by his presence at first, then simply offered Steve an apologetic smile and mumbled something under his breath before darting out. Great, Steve thought to himself and slumped against and empty chair at the dining table. He was already well on the way to going batshit crazy, and now, his only company was the dorm’s resident weirdo. To be fair, there were at least two other people on campus that he was presently aware of, down the road in Mayfield Hall: a girl from the languages department he knew from Mrs. Click’s first-year rhetoric class, but wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with, and a girl he was pretty sure was in the Dance program, since they’d attended a movement class together the previous year. He’d noticed the former while out on one of his regular morning runs, catching sight of her just as she slipped on a particularly nasty patch of the frozen path, landing gracelessly on her backside. He went off course to help her and make sure she was okay, but she merely levelled him with a deadly stare. That was all the encouragement Steve needed to get the hell out of there.

With no company to save him from boredom and distract him from the gnawing sense of loneliness, Steve kept busy as best as he could. He even came to consider the dining hall being closed for the holidays a small mercy, as he occupied himself with planning his meals and taking the time to prepare them. On Tuesday, he made the short, fifteen-minute drive to the nearest town and bought a week’s worth of groceries, in case the weather prevented him from being able to make that trip again in the coming days. Steve was happy to find the fridge in the communal kitchen nice and empty for once—well, except for a frankly impressive supply of beer, which he could only assume belonged to the other remaining resident. 

Speaking of the rather unusual fellow—they’d started to develop a sort of quiet camaraderie, the two of them. They would usually bump into each other at lunchtime and again at dinnertime, and once Steve had been able to let go of the resentment he held towards his fellow resident, for the little nocturnal performance he put on the first night, they’d even gone as far as greeting each other.

“Hey, man,” the other guy would say, as he leisurely strolled into the kitchen, normally around noon, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Hi,” Steve would reply, giving a quick nod and small smile.

And that’s essentially how the entire first week of winter break went by. Slowly, Steve began to find comfort in the little routine they’d established. In a way, it soothed the ache inside him, to know that, without fail, his weird neighbour would always wake up way too late and meet him in the kitchen at mealtime to exchange a greeting or two. The guy had even taken to hovering there while Steve finished whatever dish he was making that day, and Steve was surprised at how quickly he became used to his quiet company (and Steve was applying this term liberally, by the way, since the guy clearly found it impossible to move around without making an array of random sounds). But despite how strange he was, Steve found his presence oddly calming, if not comforting. It also gave Steve a little insight into his habits, which were no less strange than the man himself. Over time, Steve noticed the guy seemingly lived on nothing but Cheerios, beer, and the occasional microwave meal. It made Steve wonder how the hell he was still alive—or how he managed to keep such a slender physique. Not that he’d been paying much attention to said physique, of course. Steve guessed he was just one of those people who lucked out with their metabolism. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the man’s curious gaze on him every time he saw Steve crafting his next meal. It even got to the point where Steve was half-convinced he could hear the guy sniffing the air as soon as he walked into the kitchen at mealtime, but whenever Steve glanced over his shoulder to check for proof, the other man immediately corrected himself, pretending to be occupied with with trivial tasks, like pouring more milk into his already full bowl of cereal. 

Steve found it sort of endearing—and, if he was being totally honest, it filled him with a sense of pride, to see another person react to his cooking that way. He loved cooking. Hell, he loved cooking for other people even more than he did himself, even if that opportunity rarely presented itself. True, he’d gained his cooking skills mainly out of necessity, having to take care of himself from a young age, but he knew not everyone grew up with a fully stocked pantry and the same resources and tools he had at his disposal. Who was he to assume that hadn’t been the case for his mysterious roomie? At the end of the day, even if he turned out to be too lazy to cook, it wouldn’t kill Steve to toss a double portion of spaghetti into the water and add a bit more tomato purée to his sauce—it would still be the most nutritious meal the guy’s had in days. If nothing else, you’ll gain a new friend and maybe you won’t have to do this alone, his brain supplied. Steve pushed the thought to the back of his mind. 

Emboldened by his newfound purpose, Steve put down the book he’d been trying to get through for the past week and made it for the kitchen. If he was lucky, he still had about two hours before his neighbour got up, which should give Steve enough time to have the sauce ready by the time the guy walked into the kitchen. At 12.30 pm, like clockwork, a familiar mop of curly hair peeked through kitchen door.

“Hey, man,” the guy said, his voice still groggy. Steve smiled to himself. He was nothing if not consistent. Not wanting to spook him by being too forthcoming, Steve stirred the sauce a few more times, then turned to face the guy fully and opted for one of his warmer smiles, as he said, “Hi.”

In his sleep-addled state, he didn’t seem to suspect that anything was out of the ordinary. Steve watched him go through his usual routine of dumping a bunch of cereal into a bowl and retrieving the milk from the fridge. He sat down at the opposite side of the dining table, facing Steve, and moved to pour the milk over his cereal. Steve couldn’t, in good conscience, let him ruin a perfectly good bowl of cereal if he decided to accept his offer (he was decidedly not getting ahead of himself just there), so he figured now was as good a time as any to speak up.

“You do realise you can’t keep eating cereal every day for the next three weeks, right?” Steve said, making sure to keep his tone light and playful. The last thing he wanted was for the guy to think he was judging his eating habits. He set the timer for the spaghetti, then leaned against the counter next to the stove and crossed his arms. Across from him, the poor guy seemed to have stopped dead in his tracks, still holding his milk at an angle. Confusion was clearly written all over his face, as he grappled with the fact that Steve had just addressed him directly. He looked up at Steve from beneath his messy fringe, big brown eyes slowly traveling upward until they were level with Steve’s, unsure whether he was allowed to look or not. It crossed Steve’s mind that he looked every bit like a frightened young deer, and he had to mentally stop himself from letting out a laugh.

“Umm… sorry?” His eyes darted confusedly between Steve and the offending bowl of cereal in front of him. “I didn’t realise there were rules about this stuff,” he said, though his tone wasn’t defensive. His voice was soft and shy, almost apologetic, and Steve immediately regretted his choice of words.

“No, shit… Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve chuckled, desperately trying to salvage the longest conversation he’d had in days. “It’s just that, well, I can see you obviously really enjoy those,” he quickly motioned to the box of Cheerios on the table, “and, I mean, not to yuck your yum, but they really don’t make for the most nutritious meal. Wouldn’t want the rest of this dorm to come back to the smell of a rotting corpse because you, like, dropped dead of malnutrition or something, you know?” Oh god, what was he even saying?! Nice, Harrington, real nice. Idiot.

Too busy chastising himself for the word vomit he’d just unleashed on this random dude, Steve registered somewhat belatedly that the guy was now laughing, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Steve couldn’t help the expression of pleasant surprise creeping onto his face, as he watched the other man come down from his fit of laugher. He was now beaming at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how he had one of those smiles that light up a person’s entire face.

“Well, it does sound kind of grim when you put it like that, but what can I say?” He plucked a single Cheerio from the bowl and held it up close to his face, as if to examine it. “What you sacrifice on nutrition, you save on money.” Then, with a quick flick of the wrist, he tossed the Cheerio into the air, caught it in his mouth, and flashed Steve a triumphant grin. Steve chuckled, giving him a quick round of applause, to which the guy responded with an exaggerated bow. And if Steve found himself somewhat surprised at how quickly he was warming up to his new roommate, nobody needed to know.

Despite the cheerful nature of the encounter so far, Steve couldn’t help but feel a little guilty after hearing the guy explain his peculiar diet. Here he was with half the grocery store at his disposal, while, across from him, sat a guy forced to live on the same kind of cereal, meal after meal, for the sake of being frugal. He could imagine how difficult it must be to feed yourself on a budget when you don’t have the knowledge or skills to cook in the first place. The sound of his timer jolted Steve out of his thoughts, and he turned back to the stove to check if the spaghetti were cooked. He manoeuvred a single piece of pasta out of the water, blew on it a couple of times, grabbed it with his thumb and index finger, then tipped his head back and lowered it into his open mouth, blissfully unaware of a pair of brown eyes trying their best to look at anything other than Steve. After giving them a few more stirs, he strained the spaghetti in the kitchen sink, then paused for a moment, pretending to deliberate, the guy’s gaze still fixed on him. Before he could overthink it, he turned to face him again.

“Listen, you can totally say no if you want, but I think just made way too much spaghetti for one person. Would you like some?” He heard the guy take a breath, preparing to say something, then remembered. “Oh, and I have this sauce too, by the way,” he quickly added, taking the pot with the sauce off the stove and bringing it towards the other man. Steve tipped the pot slightly, trying to show him what’s inside, nearly causing a bulk of it to spill over the edge. He then realised the contents in the pot were essentially liquid and he probably shouldn’t have been doing that, which prompted him to a curse under his breath and carefully set the pot back on the stove. The guy, clearly amused by the whole display, just giggled and Steve had to take that as a win, even if he ended up rejecting his offer of a warm meal. To his credit, the guy seemed to weigh the idea carefully for a moment. All of a sudden, it looked like something clicked in his brain, and he offered Steve a lopsided smile.

“Well, then, if there really is sauce involved, I don’t see how I could possibly refuse.”

It took Steve a little while to register that he was, in fact, not being rejected, but as soon as he did, he couldn't help the way his face lit up, not caring anymore if he came across as overeager. He snapped his fingers and made finger guns at the guy, clearly high on some kind of playful energy the exchange had incited in him.

“Alrighty then,” he said cheerfully, turning to plate their meal, trying his best to ignore the warmth spreading through his chest as he looked down at the result. Two plates.

Steve carried both plates and some cutlery to the table, setting one plate in front of his guest, who followed the motion with fervent fixation. He thought the guy might actually start drooling if he didn’t get to dig into his meal soon. As Steve plopped into the chair across from him, though, he was struck with the realisation that they were about to have their first meal together, yet didn’t even know each other’s names. He cleared his throat and extended his hand towards the stranger.

“Oh, sorry—I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington.”

His companion broke out of his daze, beaming fondly at Steve as he firmly grasped the offered hand.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. Steve Harrington. I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

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Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it ☺️ Just fyi, I don't have this whole thing written yet, so I'll be posting it in parts here, on Tumblr, until I do, and then once it's been edited a bit and given a title, I'll probably put it up on ao3 as a longer oneshot. I'll make sure to reblog with the first part every time I post a new one, and I'll also link all the previous parts, so don't worry! It's gonna be so so cute and I'm so excited to share this story with you guys. Check in to see what the boys will get up to next!

[fizzigigsimmer]

Moonwood Part 3

|&lt;<Part One|

Steve tries to avoid Billy at school, but Billy just seems to be everywhere. Steve will cut through a different hallway or deliberately hang back in one class before heading to his next just to limit his chances of running into Billy, and yet half the time he’ll run into Billy anyway.

Sometimes Billy will be hanging out next to some lockers with other moonwood guys - it’s weird but Steve can recognize them just by how big they all are - and sometimes he sees Billy leaving a classroom door with his arms slung over a blushing girl’s shoulders and his stomach twists. It’s because of the way Billy always looks at Steve - his gaze always seems to find Steve no matter what he is doing or who he is with, and burn - like he wants to eat Steve alive.

The one place Steve can’t avoid Billy is history class, which they share and have the bad luck of being alphabet buddies in the seating arrangement. Steve’s never been a good student to begin with, but it’s even harder to focus with Billy breathing down his neck. Billy is going out of his way to intimidate Steve and it doesn’t take Steve long to see it. If he gets there before Steve Billy will put his feet in Steve’s chair or up on his desk, and act like he can’t see Steve just trying to get to his seat in peace.

An irritated, “Hey, you wanna move?” from Steve the first time it happens earns him a lazy shrug and a, “Nope” popped from between Billy’s pink lips. 

He made a mistake the first day looking toward the door as the teacher shuffled in with her nose in a steaming mug and her glasses crooked on her nose. Even though she’s on the frumpy side and obviously raises cats for fun, Steve can’t believe how unbelievably cocky Billy is when he laughs and goes, “You’re shitting me. You think Mrs. Samuals is gonna save you? That’s sad even for a pipsqueak.”

So now Steve doesn’t even bother with formalities. When he walks into history and sees Billy's dirty combat boots propped up on his desk, or in his seat, he just shoves them off and does his best to ignore Billy taunting him the rest of class.

“I’m doing you a favor Princess. We gotta build up those arms.”

Billy’s mouth is not the most frustrating thing about him. Billy making mean comments about Steve’s answers when he’s unfortunate enough to get called on is one thing. Steve’s no brainiac and if Billy wants to joke that he’s got nothing between his ears, it’s nothing Steve hasn’t heard before. 

Steve could handle it if all Billy wanted to give him was lip. What he can’t handle is the way that after a week of Billy’s stupid nicknames - Princess, Pretty Boy, and Pipsqueak are his favorites - he’s started to forget that he’s not those things. 

Two weeks of Billy shoulder checking him in the hallways, and slapping him on the back hard enough to rattle Steve’s teeth after making some comment that just highlights how much bigger and stronger Billy is in comparison, and Steve actually starts to feel small.

Steve has his share of problems like any teenager but he’s not used to feeling vulnerable or small. Like something hunted in the forest with the fear of death hanging over him. He’s honest with himself. He realizes he’s always been the guy doing the hunting, and that he probably owes a lot of people back in Hawkins some apologies. This feeling SUCKS; but Hawkins is in the past and there’s nothing he can do about it. All he wants to do is survive the next year, and he’s sure as hell not going to spend it looking over his shoulder and running from his own shadow. Fuck that.

Basketball tryouts are on Friday at the end of his third week, right before the big bonfire. That Monday Steve starts to seriously toy with the idea of going for it. Billy wants to be an asshole, then let him be an asshole. Two can play that game.

Despite Billy’s obvious animosity towards Steve, it’s only really Billy who gives Steve shit at school.  

The first week a couple of guys from moonwood tried shoving him into a locker and picking up the whole “pipsqueak” thing, but they weren't expecting Steve to fight back or for Randy and Chet to come to his rescue and even out the fight. To be fair, Steve wasn’t expecting Chet to stick up for him either because he’s Billy’s best friend and co-captain of the basketball team. 

There’s no way Chet hasn’t gotten the memo that Steve is on Billy’s shit list. But Steve figures Chet must be more mature and realizes that this highschool drama bullshit doesn’t really matter now, and definitely won’t matter to most of them in a year. Good for Chet. He wishes some of his chill would rub off on Billy.

After realizing that Steve isn’t afraid to throw a punch and that calling him names isn’t going to stop him from scoring with the girls they wish they could score with, the other moonwood guys get the memo that Steve’s not an easy kill and seem content to sit back and wait for Billy to do it for them. But thankfully Billy doesn’t try anything harder with him than a shoulder bump and a few dark promises when he’s warning him away from some girl like they’re in a cheap gangster movie. For now he seems fine with his verbal warnings but Steve’s not betting on that holding forever.

Girls are the one area of Steve’s life that doesn’t feel like it’s been turned upside down. He’s shiny and new to the Schiller girls who think he’s some kinda badass for moving to Moonwood and spending his summer hiking in the woods. He knew the national forest is populated with several protected wolf packs, but he’s surprised by how many of the girls have stories about some dumbass who wandered off the public trails and got eaten by the local wildlife. It sounds like simple cause and effect to him, but he supposes it’s more fun to blame it on werewolves.

Anyway he’s a pussy magnet with the Schiller girls because he slept in a tent in the woods a few times, and the Moonwood girls love him because he’s new and he isn’t peeing his pants over Billy giving him shit. 

As Sasha puts it, Steve’s got balls, but he’s not a meathead who thinks a fingerbang under the boardwalk is romance. He listens first to them complain about their parents, their boyfriends, and all the bullshit expectations adults like to heap on teenagers, and then he asks for permission to feel them up. Plus he likes making them laugh. 

They call him cute. Steve’s eighteen-years-old and officially a grown ass man, but to Sasha and the volleyball girls he’s “Stevie-doll”. Steve’s not sure when the Moonwood girls decided he was their doll but Steve’s not as dumb as he looks. 

Any situation that ends with him having the baddest women he’s ever known fighting over who gets the prime cuddle spot is a good situation. The trouble of course with the girls deciding that Steve’s their new best friend and revenge fling all rolled into one is the way it pisses off other guys. Especially the moonwood guys. Randy was not kidding about how territorial they are over “their” girls. It’s kinda messed up actually the way they act like this is the 50s or something and the girls can’t think for themselves. Steve sticks up for the girls cause it’s the right thing to do, but he knows it’ll be trouble before too much longer if something doesn’t change.

It’s crazy but he still wants to try out for the basketball team. Maybe there’s just something in Steve that can’t back down from a challenge or maybe it’s the weird way Steve still feels drawn to Billy despite everything. He doesn’t know why it became a fight and what the rules are, he just knows he doesn’t want to back down from this one.

When Steve tells Sasha what he’s planning he’s expecting her to warn him off it, but he’s surprised when she and the other girls smile and share secretive looks.

“I’m sure you’ll do great, and the guys on the team are really solid. They’d be a good pack for you.”

Steve thinks that’s a very strange way for her to put it. It’s not the first time that Steve has heard that word tossed around casually when the subject of making friends comes up. His grandparents and his aunt do it all the time. But Sasha is so much younger than them, and yet she still refers to the rest of the girls on the team as her “pack”. 

Steve thought it was a joke when they called him an honorary member and made him promise not to let any of the guys steal him away. But he can tell they’re serious now about Billy and Chet and the other basketball guys being good for him.

It weirds him out a little if he’s honest. A lot of things about Moonwood are weird that he has sort of ignored because his head was still spinning from the divorce and his life changing faster than he could take a breath sometimes. But things are slower now and Steve’s noticing more things.

Like how much bigger everyone in Moonwood is. They’re not freakishly big like giants or anything. If he’d met any one of his new neighbors back in Hawkins he wouldn’t have thought anything of it at all. But when they’re all together it’s noticeable that they’re different from the rest of the kids at Schiller High. It’s like someone moved the baseline up a notch without telling him.

He’s started to wonder if the additional height and the muscle is genetic because he hears other people in Moonwood speaking in Lythan, even though it took him a while to pay enough attention to recognize it. Steve realizes there must have been more immigrants than just his ancestor when he came to this country and that there’s a story there. He starts to wonder why he’s never heard it. Why his mom has never told him anything about her side of the family at all. 

When they were estranged that was one thing, but they’ve been here for months and Steve still has so many questions. When he gets home from school that Thursday before try-outs he decides to confront her and get some answers.

Steve’s mom is tall, like a model, with legs and arms that go for miles, and enough glossy hair for a shampoo commercial. He’s never thought of her as ‘big’ or ‘unusual”. At least not before he walks in on her and his aunt repainting the downstairs den, and realizes neither one of them have to use a ladder or a step stool to reach the ceiling with their rolling brushes.

Steve’s dad used to get on his mom a lot about her looks all the time. He expected her to always be the same gorgeous girl he met that one summer between highschool and college and she accommodated him. Steve blinks at her, noticing a lot of things for the first time since they moved to Moonwood.  

She’s gotten tan, and she’s stopped waxing and plucking the way she used to - Steve absolutely gets his hairiness from her side of the family. She's also started to fill out some with all of his grandmother’s cooking. She looks bigger.

She looks happier. Happier than he’s seen her in ages. Robust even. He used to be so worried about her being too thin, skipping meals, and crash dieting all the time, that his perspective of her has been skewed for years.

She is not a small woman. Maybe Steve only ever saw her that way because she was with his dad, who needed her to be. The realization makes him sad, but also suddenly furious. He wants to punch his dad so hard in the face he can feel it like an itch. 

The feeling comes on so strong it kinda scares him and he sucks in a breath. That’s when his mom and aunt Julie finally notice he’s watching them from the doorway.

“Oh! Steve. Hi pippin, I didn’t realize you were home.”

Steve’s mom used to call him that when he was really little, until his dad made her stop. She blinks a little at Steve, realizing at the same time that he does what has just slipped out of her mouth.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I know you’re too big for that now.” 

Steve decides his questions can wait. He just wants to keep seeing her happy.

“It’s fine. What’s for dinner?” he asks with a smile and when she beams at him, he knows he made the right decision.

[Part 4]

Friendly Tags for those who expressed interest: @darleenjade @sweetwaterangel @dragonflylady77 @natchula @tip-tap-tired @sparklingsprinkles @adelacreations

[deunmiu-dessie]

he misses you. he misses you like a flower misses the sun. like the desert misses the rain. like you are the entirety of his being. as if you hold the key to his fierce, thumping bloody heart within the palm of your hands, like he is nothing without you— and perhaps he isn't. he doesn't feel like himself, no, in fact, he feels empty. like a shell of the man he used to be before you. he feels as though the world has lost its color, its meaning, and it makes him feel bare— it makes him feel.

he misses you. he misses the warmth of your perfume, a sweet and spicy blended aroma of saffron and sugared lavender. he misses your smile, all wide and pretty— genuine and charming, and always all for him. he misses the sound of your laughter, raw and boisterous, but sometimes soft and breathy, intimate. he misses your kisses, shy and cloying— yet fierce and angry at times as well. he misses the small things, like the scatter of moles across the expanse of your body that he finds himself counting when he can't fall asleep. or the way you fuss over him, mumbling curses and your love for him all in the same sentence.

he is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

the soft jangle of your keys in the lock makes him look up from his journal, the door swinging open. and despite himself, he finds that he's softened underneath your warm, loving gaze. ah, he also misses the sound of your voice, euphonious and soft, a tone you use for him specifically.

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

he can feel his heart dance within his chest, pounding fiercely as you slant your hip to the side, the very same hips he adores holding onto when swaying with you to music. your eyes, which always seem to sweep him under with their intensity with no fail, are glittering with mirth, it knocks the breath from his chest. ❝ i adore you,❞ he utters— he sounds like a fool in love, and he doesn't particularly mind it. your cheeks flush with color and you playfully roll your eyes. that's alright, you don't need to say it back, he knows.

❝help me with the groceries?❞

he? ⸺ SIMON, gojo satoru, DAMON SALVATORE, soap, older!TANJIRO, scott mccall, GAZ, clark kent, EMMETT CULLEN, leon kennedy, STEVE HARRINGTON, giyu tomioka, JOHN PRICE, loran, ULYSSES, rick grimes, KÖNIG, dick grayson, SPENCER REID.

honestly it can be anyone you envision.

[spcckystcries-a]

@hcartofnovocaine

"i'm gonna tell you something." steve says quietly, looking to max. and he isn't going to say aloud his reason for sharing this with her, he knows the response he'll get - the comments she'll say, even if she'll likely figure it out anyways. either way, he's not backing down now. "something no one else knows, well except robin - but she knows everything. not henderson though or any of the other little shits." he pauses for a second before -. "i lost the hearing in my left ear. like - completely gone, donezo, can't hear out of it at all. turns out all those knocks to the head had a bigger effect than we thought." he lets out a little breath. "when those bats got me in the upside down, they dragged me down and i hit it again. wasn't as severe as the other times, but severe enough it knocked my hearing out on the left side completely." another pause. "so ... it looks like between the two of us we got two working eyes and three working ears, go figure."

[steddiehyperfixation]

silly little thing for my @steddiebingo prompt: nerds | 758 words | T |

"Hey, maybe he can help," Robin says, sweeping a hand towards Dustin who's just walked into Family Video for his regularly scheduled afterschool bug Steve and Robin time, interrupting their conversation.

"Oh come on." Steve shakes his head. "The kid doesn't want to hear about my trash heap of a love life."

"Oh, no, I absolutely want to hear about that." Dustin perks up at the opportunity to learn about Steve's trivial suffering.

"We're trying to figure out why Steve goes on a million dates but can't seem to find someone he actually likes," Robin fills Dustin in. "Tell him, Steve."

Steve groans, dragging his hands over his face before splaying them out sarcastically, as that's the only thing he can really do in protest right now. Dustin's looking at him expectantly, and Steve has no choice but to tell the kid all about Linda and Heidi and Brenda and Lucy and whoever else he's been out with recently, doing his best to answer any subsequent questions as PG as possible.

"Well of course you haven't found the one yet, you keep trying to date a bunch of normal, basic, girly girls. That's not your type," Dustin informs him once Steve's done talking.

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Oh, it isn't?"

"You can't really be that stupid, can you?"

"No, please, Henderson, enlighten me on what you think my type is."

"You're into nerds," he says like it's completely obvious.

Steve scoffs. "I am not into nerds. You know, just because I hang around you little weirdos all the time does not actually mean I want to hang around even more weirdos in all the other aspects of my life too."

"Seriously, Steve, think about it," Dustin argues. "Think of all the girls you've actually been really genuinely into in your life. They've all been nerds! Nancy-"

"- is not a nerd."

"She's a straight-A student and a journalism super geek. She's a nerd."

Steve rolls his eyes and sighs grudgingly. "Alright, fine, but-"

"And you were into Robin-"

Robin wrinkles her nose. "Ugh, don't remind me."

"-who you can't deny is definitely a nerd," Dustin continues.

"You know what, actually, he does have a point," Robin says.

Steve looks at her in betrayal. "Don't encourage him!"

"That girl you told me about that you liked in middle school who was super into Star Trek, and the other one who wanted to write a fantasy novel one day- oh and the elementary school crush who was always reading a new book every day..." Robin lists, ticking each one off on her fingers.

"I told you all that in confidence!"

"They were all nerds!"

"Exactly." Dustin grins, vindicated and insufferably smug. "Ergo, you, Steve Harrington, need to find yourself a nerd."

"I am not into nerds!" Steve protests hopelessly.

"What more proof do you need?" Dustin says. "You're into nerds."

"Totally into nerds," Robin concurs.

Steve huffs and throws up his hands. "Fine! I'll admit I'm into nerds if it will make you two shut up about it!"

Eddie happens to wander into the previously empty store at that exact moment, catching the tail end of the conversation as he approaches the counter. "What's all this about nerds?"

Steve freezes, glances Eddie over and stares at him strangely for a few long seconds. "Holy shit," he mutters.

His gaze cuts to Robin, whose eyes go wide when she meets his look. "Holy shit," she agrees.

"Oh my god."

"Oh my god."

"Dude."

"Dude!"

Eddie blinks at them. "Are you two having some sort of joint stroke or something?" He looks at Dustin as if the kid might have a better clue of what's going on. "Can you understand them?"

Dustin shrugs, equally mystified. "Don't look at me, man. They're weird."

The incomprehensible parroting conversation is still going on.

"Okay," Steve's saying, taking a deep breath in through his nose and exhaling determinedly.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Robin grins and shoves at his shoulder.

Steve finally turns back around and leans on the counter in front of Eddie with a classically charming smile. "So, Eddie, are you free on Saturday?"

Eddie smiles back despite his confusion. "Yeah-"

"Oh my god!" Dustin bursts out suddenly.

"Oh my god," Robin agrees with a knowing smirk.

Eddie glances at Dustin. "Oh no, not you too."

Steve exhales a long-suffering sigh and pushes himself off the counter, marching around to grab Eddie by the hand and drag him away from Dustin and Robin. "So. Saturday?"

"He's into nerds," Dustin whispers, wide-eyed.

Robin nods sagely. "He's into nerds."

[hairmetal666]

"Is this always how they act?" Jonathan asks. He has to lean close and yell a little for Robin to hear him over the noise of the house party.

"Yup," she says.

She, Jonathan, and Argyle continue to stare at Eddie, sitting in an easy chair, Steve perched happily on his lap. Eddie has a whole bowl of bbq Lay's, and Steve will lean back for a chip, which Eddie feeds him with a smile.

"And they're definitely not dating?" Argyle asks when Steve leans back to whisper in Eddie's ear, mouth pressed close. It's deeply gratifying that they just got in from California and already they see it.

"Steve says no."

"You think he's lying?" Jonathan asks.

"I think he doesn't realize he likes Eddie yet."

Eddie tugs at Steve's hair, and Steve turns back, gives him a smile that's so intimate Robin can't stare directly at it. Instead, she turns to her friends, but Argyle is still watching Eddie and Steve. He's drumming his fingers against his chin, expression what Robin could only call mischievous.

"What are you planning?" Jonathan asks.

"Just helping some bros find true love."

Jonathan looks mildly concerned but before he can say anything, Nancy makes her appearance. And they're something, becoming something, and she cares about Eddie and Steve getting their shit together, but Nancy is smiling and she's so, so pretty. It's easy to get lost in the blue of her eyes and the sweep of her hair and forget about everything else.

---

A few hours later and they're all sitting around a coffee table in the basement, just the six of them. It's sort of funny, she thinks, how it always ends up being the six of them.

They're crossfaded already, but that hasn't stopped Eddie and Argyle from lighting another joint. Her thoughts have gone light and floaty, all that's holding her to earth the press Steve's leg and Nancy's hand against hers.

Argyle is sort of monologuing and she doesn't think any of them are paying much mind, but then he stops mid-sentence, grips Jonathan's shoulder tight enough that his knuckles go white. "Dudes. What if we played Truth or Dare?"

Nancy snorts. "Not on your life."

"I don't think I can move?" She says. She leans into Steve, sighing with contentment.

"I, for one, would love to see Buckley complete a dare," Eddie says.

She sticks her tongue out at him. "I've done plenty. Band kid, remember?"

"Ugh, curse the horny trumpeters." Eddie slumps on the coffee table in defeat.

"I'll have you know, they were very wholesome games."

Steve squints at her. "Wasn't there an orgy in someone's pool?"

She sniffs, looks away instead of answering, which makes everyone laugh.

"Speaking of sex," Argyle says. "No one catch your eye tonight, Harrington?"

"Wasn't really looking."

"That's new," Jonathan says.

Steve laughs. "I'm tired of hooking up."

He's told her that too, countless times. She thinks the real reason he hasn't dated in months is sitting right next to him, drumming his fingers on the coffee table.

"Maybe you've just lost your touch," Argyle says.

"I have not!" Steve clutches a hand over his heart. "If I wanted to, I could pull any girl upstairs."

"C'mon, my dude, no way you're that good."

"I was!" He looks to Robin, Nancy, Jonathan. "I was, back me up!"

"I don't know, Scoops wasn't your best work," she says.

"No, no, we said Scoops doesn't count! It was the hat. The outfit! I did fine after!"

"I happened to think the sailor costume was very cute," Eddie says.

"Thank you," Steve preens. He shifts away from her to lean into Eddie, who grins.

"I don't think we can trust Eddie's judgement here," Nancy says.

Steve points at her. "Yes, and I remember you being totally uninterested."

She squeaks in indignation, Robin smothering her own giggles behind her hand. "It was--it was hormones!"

"Yeah, very uninterested in me." Jonathan chimes in. There's a little second where no one reacts--the fact that Nancy was technically still with Steve when that happened ringing unspoken between them--before Nancy and Steve start to giggle.

"I've hooked up with everyone I've ever tried to," Argyle chimes in, nonchalant.

"No way," the whole group says.

"I've got the touch."

"C'mon, that literally can't be true just by like...stats," Steve says.

"Don't know what to tell you, my dude." Argyle's smile is smug. "I'm really good."

"You're just jealous," she tells him. She nudges his shoulder so he knows she's joking.

"No! Jealousy has nothing to do with it."

They erupt at that, calling out the obvious lie.

"I'm not upset!" Steve shouts over them. "I'm just saying, it didn't happen. Sorry, Argyle. You have bizzaro charm, but there's no way it has a 100% success rate."

"Sounds like jealousy to me, Stevie." Eddie cocks his head with a smirk.

"Harrington, you're so cute when you're competitive," Argyle says. "Anyway, it worked on--"

"Don't say Jonathan," Nancy, Steve, and Robin all say.

"Hey! Why not me?'

"Well, it's just--" Nancy waves her hand in the air. "You're. I mean. It's not hard."

Jonathan groans, hides his face in his hands as they laugh.

"I'll prove it to you," Argyle says to Steve. "100% success rate."

"What?"

"I'm going to seduce you."

"Oh, shit," she says.

She knows what's going to happen even before Steve puts his hands on his hips, awkwardly cause they're sitting, cocks an eyebrow, and says, "Okay."

Eddie grumbles something she can't make out, but Steve shakes his head, laughs. "Nah, it's just for fun, right?"

"Until it works." Argyle tosses his hair.

Steve rolls his eyes. "Gimme your best shot."

They rearrange around the table, Eddie and Argyle swapping places.

Everyone is quiet for a second, Steve reaches for his drink. "You got great hands, Harrington," Argyle says.

"I--oh, what?" Steve splutters. He goes a little pink, and Robin thinks it's the first time she's seen him this flustered by a compliment.

"Yeah." Argyle takes his hand, traces along his palm and knuckles. "Big. Strong. Like you could really take care of someone."

Eddie kicks the table, sending it rocking, scattering empty cups and chip bags. Steve is crimson, totally oblivious to Eddie's flailing.

"Thanks," he mumbles. He doesn't pull his hand away. Robin, everyone, is riveted.

"No one's ever told you that?"

"No. No one."

"That's too bad. It's probably all about your hair and your eyes and your body."

Steve smiles and it's one she recognizes, flirty and a little wicked. "You noticed my body?"

Argyle laughs. "Oh, c'mon, you know everyone notices that."

"Would you believe it if I told you I don't get enough compliments?"

"Not on your life."

Steve leans into him, giggles. "Well, worth a shot, right?"

"Always. You wanna know the first thing I noticed about you?"

"Ass, right?"

"It was how much you love your friends but you hide it behind a facade of disapproval. Made me think maybe you weren't used to the love you want to give being reciprocated."

They're all locked in on Argyle and Steve, but she notices Eddie flinch, move like he's about to stand, Nancy reaching out to stop him. She thinks, then, for the first time, that maybe this is mean to him. He doesn't know it's not real.

"Oh," Steve says. His voice breaks, a little, and her heart breaks for him. "I--oh."

"Your ass was the second thing I noticed," Argyle quips and the tension around the table breaks, Steve giggling.

With smooth confidence she never would have expected him to possess, Argyle cards his fingers through Steve's hair. "Just had to touch it for myself." His voice is soft.

"That all you want to touch?"

Argyle grins. "Not even a little bit."

She watches, stunned, as Steve leans in, face almost touching Argyle's. Eddie makes a noise, a pained cough, and Steve leaps to his feet.

"I can't kiss you!" He half-yells, stumbling.

"And why not?" Argyle asks. He's got a wild smile on his face.

"I'm in love with Eddie!" Steve's eyes are wide, panicked.

"I'm sorry," Steve says to him. "Eddie, I--"

But before he can get the words out, Eddie's climbing over the coffee table, sending drinks and snacks flying, the calls for him to get down ignored as he trips into Steve's arms.

"You love me?" Eddie asks.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say it before. I--got in my head about it and I--I hoped it didn't seem like I was leading you on because my words kept getting stuck, and--"

"Sweetheart." Eddie stops him. "I--" He breaks off, notices that the rest of them are raptly listening to the confession. "Do you want to go somewhere we can talk?"

They disappear upstairs, and she turns to Argyle in awe. "I can't believe that actually worked."

"What can I say, I'm a miracle worker. Are there more Doritos?"

---

Early in the morning, they're piled in Nancy's station wagon, Jonathan driving them home. She and Nancy are in the middle seat, Steve and Eddie in the back. Steve's curled against him, face pressed to his neck, hidden by a cloud of hair. She wants to ask what happened, how their conversation went, if they're official and how long Steve's known he's in love, but Nancy moves closer, head dropping to Robin's shoulder. Their fingers entwine and Robin closes her eyes, smiles.

"Tomorrow?" Nancy asks.

She nods. "Tomorrow."

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x F! reader, established relationship, PIV sex, period sex!!! you've been warned. WC: 3.8K

A/N: Still alive. Still writing filth. Well, trying to at least. Finally managed to finish one of these so, enjoy!

His brow furrowed at the same time that his smile deflated to form a frown.

Steve had found you exactly as he had left you – curled up on your side on the couch with your eyes squinting at the TV screen. Your arms are still wound around your stomach boa constrictor tight too, your trembling lips parted enough to let out the occasional groan or shaky whimper.

Though the sight of you like this is enough to make him feel concerned, he's relieved to spot the empty plate dusted with sandwich crumbs resting on the coffee table. Even if it did sit a little too close to the edge for his comfort, it let him know that you'd upheld your promise to eat something while he was away at work.

Taking a few quiet steps closer into the living room, Steve approaches you from behind and leans over the back of the couch to get a better look at you, his shadow stretching long to cloak you from the light coming off the TV.

"Any better?", he asks gently in lieu of a hello, slipping the question between laugh tracks as another episode of The Golden Girls commenced on screen. Your comfort show.

Steve watches patiently as you turn much too slowly and carefully to meet his eye from over your shoulder. That's when he notices how glassy they've become, unshed tears growing fatter and fatter behind your lash line, verging on spilling down your puffy cheeks. A little pout pushes your lightly chapped lips out too, mustering up enough strength to shake your head ‘no’.

Steve’s heart always hung heavy in his chest whenever he saw you like this, all pained and panting. Wanting to be closer to you, he rounds the couch and gladly takes the hand you unwind from around your sore belly and hold out to him, encouraging him to sit beside you.

To the relief of you both, there's no awkward fidgeting or clueless gestures exchanged at this stage of your relationship when Steve takes a seat. Instead, he moves with the quiet confidence of someone whose been through this very situation enough times to know exactly how to soothe you. To begin, he carefully gathers you into his lap, not wanting to trigger any more pinching pain or another cramping crick that might shoot up your back whip crack quick.

Your mood begins to shift for the first time that day, perking up as you let him cradle you, nuzzling into his chest as you settle sideways in his lap. He doesn't even have to question you when he feels your fingers circling his wrist either, letting you pluck his hand and guide it underneath your t-shirt. Steve remembers to spread his warm fingers over as much of the soft skin of your belly as possible, smiling when he sees you sigh with some relief.

He'd sit there all night with you like this if not for the little plastic shopping bag you’re yet to notice still grasped in his other hand. The shifty little sound it makes when he shakes it five minutes later draws your attention once you’ve made yourself comfortable in his lap. You blink your eyes open, curiously squinting at the bag and its familiar logo printed on the front.

"Figured I'd stop by the pharmacy before I headed home. Just to be safe", Steve explains with a kind smile, pretty crescent dimples making impressions on his cheeks. The thoughtful gesture is enough to make your body turn warm with adoration.

"So, I've got pain killers and heating pads and– ‘want me to open one up for you?", Steve offers before he lists the rest and you make sure to match his smile with one of your own that's just as sweet before you politely decline. "Can I use your hands a little longer?", you ask instead, practically purring from the way his large palm rests on you. "It feels so nice".

Once again, you're reminded of how lucky you are to have him when Steve's eyes catch the light and glitter like they always do when he does something you like. Just like a labrador lighting up at the sight of a bone.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course", he answers, so eager to please. He frees his hand by setting the bag down, once again letting you wrap your smaller fingers around his wrist and pull it closer to your chest.

You place it over your left breast and without needing to tell him how, Steve settles into a routine he's pretty much memorized by now. He grasps the shape of your breast under your t-shirt and begins massaging it gently like he’s done so many times before, aware of how sore they get when you're on your period, switching over to the other sensitive breast and then back again to the first for more.

He can tell that he's touching you the right way when he's treated to the sounds you begin to let slip out, contented sighs and soft groans, even that pinched little space between your eyebrows becomes lax enough to turn your face into a picture of bliss.

"Pills didn't do much today did they?", he guesses, earning another shake of your head.

"Neither did the hot water bottle?", he asks when he spies it lying on the carpet by the couch, knowing full well it'd probably been discarded there out of frustration.

"Just made me feel sweaty and gross", you whined back softly in reply.

"Is this helping? what I'm doing?", he asks hopefully.

"Yes, still crampy but It's already better having you hold me", you tell him sincerely, adjusting yourself in his lap so that your lips can reach his cheek and show your gratitude with a quick peck.

The next few minutes that pass with you perched on his lap is the closest you've felt to relief, his hands soothing your sensitive skin and much of the pain you'd dealt with all day.

Though not all of it.

Despite all Steve's done he can't quite snuff the pain out for you through touch alone. Your cramps continue to jab and twist and flare angrily inside you, less frequently but just as unpleasant as they had been this morning.

"Um, so listen", he clears his throat abruptly, noticing your unyielding discomfort.

When you look up at Steve you can almost feel the way his thoughts are stirring rapidly in his head, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip in the same way he does when he's deep in thought.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I could do?", he asks eventually.

You think on it for a few short moments, shrugging when nothing comes to mind.

" I don't know... like what?"

---

"You really don't think it's gross?", you check for the third time, bare thighs squeezing together as if they were bound under lock and key. "We don't even know if it'll work", you add nervously, afraid of the kind of mess you're making on the towel that's been placed under you. At least the charcoal cotton will hide most of it. You hope.

Steve pops back into sight at the sound of your wavering voice, his hair messily fluffed up in all directions from pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it into a corner of the bedroom floor. He cranes his neck and rests his stubbled chin on your knees as your heels dig deeper into the mattress. "Baby" he sighed, smiling. Loving and reassuring all in one exhale of breath that tickles your perspiring skin. "It's not gross. You know that", he squeezes your thighs reassuringly, climbing over your bent legs to kiss you quick and thaw your inhibitions.

"I just want to make my poor, sore girl feel better".

The way he says it is enough to make you feel your heart beat between your legs.

It's nothing new. Your hormones have always had a nasty habit of kicking your libido up more than a few notches whenever it was your time of the month. But this was new territory for the both of you. As much as you would have liked to in the past, you never let Steve get this far before, never acting on the urge to have him be the one to pleasure you while you bled. You usually saw to that persistent ache on your own, always in private and in the shower without Steve's involvement.

And while it was him who insisted on 'helping' you today, part of you couldn’t stop worrying if he'd really desire you as you are right now. If maybe his sweet intentions to make you feel better had gotten the best of him.

All of that and more swarming thoughts had you questioning if maybe letting him get this far was a mistake. If maybe you ought to stop him now before it’s too late, your mind becoming a winding spiral of uncertainty but that was until you felt it – an unmistakable firmness brushing against your hip while Steve helped you out of your clothes.

It made your cheeks burn hot to know that Steve’s bulge had turned swollen and hard because of you, contained behind his boxers for the time being but still very evident as he tenderly laid you down on your back again, effectively quietening some of the doubts that howled sonorously inside your head.

It makes your knees tremble next when he places his large hands on each one, gently encouraging you to let him pull them apart and see what lies between your legs.

To you, letting your legs come apart for him feels too much like you’re stepping off the steepest ledge and plummeting into a freefall. Your heart shoots up out of your ribcage and into your narrow throat, your eyes squeezing shut because you can't handle watching how your boyfriend will react.

Your weak, jelly knees make it all the easier for him to peel them apart and once he does, the blood in your veins freezes over when all that elapses is silence. Not one single word out of Steve.

Each second ticks by as painfully as the last, like scraping bone until you try to clamp your legs shut once again but Steve's too quick for you, keeping your legs pried open with his hands placed firmly on your inner thighs.

"Oh sweetheart...", is all you hear him utter, a deep, raspy rumble that curls up and out of his throat like a lazy tendril of smoke. “Just needed a moment to really look at you, pretty thing”

You make a noise too, somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup when you feel his course fingers graze your bloody folds. It's enough to make you force one eye open as he pulls them apart to observe the bleeding between your legs.

Carefully you read every little expression that dawns on his face, relieved when you notice that Steve doesn't wince. He doesn't flinch. And he doesn't turn away from the sight of your blood, completely unblinking and focused. Maybe even a little enamored if you were to guess by the way his lips lift up into another smile.

You feel it’s safe enough to ease both eyes open now and fix them on Steve as he watches you quietly and closely back. This time his silence has the opposite effect on you. Instead of frigid, piercing worry, you shudder warmly with sunny excitement while he explores you.

His gaze descends the length of your body to find a moderate amount of blood on your inner thighs. You know because you can feel the warm, thick stains cooling on your skin, smudged there like wine stains and brush strokes painting your body. It’s what pulls his focus first, his eyes lingering there before they roam between your puffy folds and over to your hole. There he finds you leaking with a glossy crimson mix of blood and slick. Bringing his face closer to it, he's able to tell that your scent's different now too. Sharper. More coppery underneath your usual soft musk. The way his mouth pulls up into a broader smile tells you that he likes it just as much.

"Can't believe we didn't try this sooner", he tells you playfully with a waggle of his eyebrows though you know he's being very sincere as you both recall all the times you’d laid in bed and in pain whenever you were menstruating.

Out of habit you very nearly ask him a fourth time if he's absolutely certain he wants to be intimate with you while you're bleeding but you’re able to stop abruptly before you can get the question past your lips, suddenly hit with a much-needed wave of clarity.

This was Steve. A man no stranger to a little blood. Be it a split lip, a blackened eye or a broken nose among other bones. The same Steve who took a bite out of a writhing demobat and spit its filthy viscera out at his dirty feet, its thick blood tainting his pearly teeth with an angry snarling red.

He's never cowered at the sight of blood before. So why would he start now? why would he when it means getting to be with you in a whole new way? when it means getting to make love to you and give you some much needed relief?

"Looks like my girl's ready now", he winks at you knowingly.

You can feel the pure magnetism practically radiating off of him like puffs of hot steam, shedding his boxers off quickly to join you in the nude. Watching his erection spring free and thwack against his lower stomach makes your tummy flutter and flip especially when you notice the splash of precum it leaves behind on his blushing skin.  

He wanted you, very much and there was no way to deny it, making you feel both eager and a little silly about how you'd fussed earlier so self-consciously.

It made you feel sexy again too. Desirable during a time you didn't consider yourself as such. With your confidence sprouting again your legs make more space for him, inviting him closer before your ankles lock in place behind the small of Steve's back. His rigid shaft settles snugly between your bloody folds as he teases you by rubbing the slick, spongy head of his cock against your swollen clit. He’s satisfied when he gently pulls whine after pretty whine out of you like unravelling a delicate flower bud by hand, petal by petal gently tugged open to reveal the beautiful blossom lying inside.

"Steve?"

"Yeah? this making you feel good?", he looks back up to search your face attentively.

"Can't you tell?", you roll your hips with a giggle, your clit catching on his tip and shaft perfectly though still not enough to quell your cramps and satisfy you.

"I want you to put it inside now. Please"

More than happy to oblige Steve smiles as he reaches between your bodies so he can guide his cock towards your waiting hole. You feel it first when it nudges at your entrance and you hold your breath as you always do when Steve begins to work his cock inside you, the thick tip of it making your hole give way and stretch until it's just about wide enough to let him pop inside.

For Steve It's a whirlpool of gooey warmth and buttery smoothness as he slowly feeds every veiny, throbbing inch inside you. Your silky walls stretch into the familiar shape of his cock, sucking him in and wrapping around him tight like ribbon.

You can't lie, as good as it feels, you can't quite shake one last whispering concern about how it'll look when he pulls back enough to see his cock all red with you – who wouldn’t be worried about that?

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you have a look for yourself, a cold chill spilling down your spine because it's exactly as you feared it would look. A generous coating of deep, dark syrupy red drips from Steve’s pale length but before you can attempt to convince him to please look literally anywhere else while he fucks you, you're pressed deeper back into the mattress as he leans forward to lightly pin you back in place.

"It's okay, baby. 'Can see you getting in your head again", he whispers soothingly, so close his lips brush yours.

"You need to understand that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, okay? you feel how fucking hard I am for you? it's all because of you. Now are you gonna be good for me and let me take care of you?"

For a moment, all you can do is blink back at him like you’re coming out of a daze.

The fuzz of his sweat matted chest hair tickles your nipples when you manage to nod back with a soft 'yes’. Now that your nerves have been settled for good, he leans down to let his tongue lap inside your mouth again, so gentle yet somehow still so ravenous. The kind of kiss that screams how much he wants you.

There's no more room for any doubt to encroach your mind again like a violent thunderstorm. It's clear Steve doesn't think the sight of you both connected like this is gruesome. He slips inside and out with ease and excitement, his cock gliding against your walls in a way that starts to make your head spin in the most delightful way.

"That’s my girl. Nothing better than having a sweet thing like you wrapped around my cock"

And that's how he starts to fuck you. Slow and deep. Push and pull. Your breath becoming shorter. Your eyes staring into his with longing as he begins to fuck into you more firmly when he thinks you’re ready for it, in every spot you cry out for it.

The cramps that plagued you for most of the day are practically being wrung out of your overwhelmed body, a much more pleasurable, pulsing ache taking its place instead. The sticky slap of your bodies meeting echoes within the confines of your shared bedroom, gasps and moans winding around each other like creeping vines as you climb further and further towards the peak of pleasure.

It’s a slower climb for Steve and that’s only because he’s desperately trying to maximize your pleasure before he can even think of his own climax and spilling into you. Your heels stay fixed behind his back, nudging at his spine and your teeth sink into his shoulder which while both a little uncomfortable, he wouldn’t dare dream of asking you to stop, not when the signs of your impending orgasm begin to shadow your face.

Steve delights in watching you trying to fight it off but fail to do so pitifully. Face contorting with arousal, slurring your words as you cry out his name, garbling as the smallest trail of drool leaks out the corner of your mouth. He chuckles into your neck when you fail to keep your eyes from rolling back too, hissing happily when he feels the heat of your nails raking at his biceps and back.

When you cum on Steve’s blood splattered cock your body turns electric, sparks and bolts erupting just like fireworks beneath the thin layer of your soft skin. All the throbbing, all the spasming waves of pain and soreness – gone. Driven out of your writhing body with pang after pang of pleasure, your clit fat and twitching uncontrollably between your legs.

He fucks you through it and when it begins to verge on too much, you will yourself to take the many thrusts that follow as Steve continues to hump into you, taking it like the good girl he keeps moaning that you are, mumbling nearly incoherently into your skin.

“Just a little longer – I know ,baby, I know. Just keep taking me like that, just a little more – yes…yes…yes", Steve grunts before his body starts to quake, shuddering through his own orgasm, shooting hot and sticky all he has to give you deep inside.

The feeling of it all collecting within your pussy is unlike any other that you’ve felt before and you can’t help but linger on it – exactly what your body had been crying out for all day. It’s made easier too because Steve’s body lay draped over yours, the weight of him on top of you is comforting. He keeps you plugged up nice and full with his softening cock still inside you, panting while you gently stroke the damp nape of his neck until you’re able to catch your own breath and thank him with words.

When Steve does finally unsheathe himself from you, he does so a little reluctantly, peppering you with kisses, making silly comments about how he’d rather just stay in you all night than part, have you cockwarm him till the sun comes up. You snicker in response and roll your eyes back at him playfully, eventually coaxing him and convincing him to pull out.

Slowly your combined discharge strings from his cock to your folds and pearly clit like a spider’s web, unable to tell where yours begin and his end. You still feel sensitive there too, the little bundle yet to cease throbbing and swell down after grazing perfectly against the thick hair that grew from Steve’s bellybutton to the base of his scarlet cock.

As more of it begins to leak out of you, you both look on curiously, mesmerized by its deep shade of rosy pink – such a pretty thing made by the two of you.

No longer bashful about the whole thing, you swipe a finger between your folds and closely observe the secretion on the pad of your index finger, wondering why, just an hour ago, you’d been so afraid of giving yourself to Steve like this.

Sure, it’s a mess but you don’t feel the least bit unclean. All the sweat and cum and blood – you're glad for it in fact, turning onto your side and resting your cheek on Steve's chest once he repositions onto his back, wrapping his arm around you to pull you closer.

"Better?", he asks expectantly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Better than better" you assure him, basking in the afterglow with an ever so satiated smile gracing your lips.

Steve’s got one just like it shaping his plump pink lips, placing his hands behind his head as he stares dreamily at the ceiling.

"So, six more days huh? I can get used to this"

[himbosandhardwear]

Eddie has a bad habit of picking at his skin when he's nervous. Not, like, shy nervous or stage fright nervous, but the real kind of nervous, not-sure-I’m-gonna-survive-this kind of nervous. Like while he was alone in the boat house, he'd shredded every one of his cuticles. That time Hopper caught him behind The Hawk, very obviously selling his wares, he'd bitten his lips bloody.

Tonight he's picking a scab off his knee. It's practically healed already, so it won't bleed, he just needs to feel something on his body come loose before he does.

“You good, dude?” Steve asks, so in tune to Eddie's nervous disposition. Such a good guy. What a friend.

Eddie lets his head hit his knee caps with a thunk.

“Yup.”

Steve snorts. “You don't look good. I mean… You know what I mean.”

He smiles, tilting his head to look at Steve, always happy to give him a hard time.

“Oh, absolutely. You think I look good, don't cha, Stevie?”

He gets a couch pillow to the face for that, but they're both laughing so he doesn't think he's crossed the line yet.

Yet, yet, yet.

“Seriously, what's up with you? You've been quiet. It makes me want to call the squad.”

“Har har,” Eddie mumbles, but he does uncurl himself, sitting back against the couch again. “I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask for advice but it's-” Christ, he doesn't even want to admit to being embarrassed, that's how embarrassed he is.

“It's what?” Steve asks, the picture of earnest encouragement. “You can talk to me about anything, man, we're, like, bonded in blood or whatever.”

“Right. Yeah. Except this has the potential to get real awkward, real quick, and I'm not sure we're at that level of friendship yet.”

“Well,” he drawls, “if you ask me whatever it is that's got you all flustered I'm sure that will level us up. Right?”

“I'm not flustered.” God damn his red fucking face. Steve just laughs at him. “It's just, I don't have anyone else to ask about this. Jonathan probably doesn't have this particular problem, cause he's got- Uh. Sorry.” Steve waves it away, so Eddie goes on. “The kids are too young and the band guys don't understand what we went through-”

“Eddie, just spit it out.”

“Fuck! Okay, fine! You asked for it.” He takes a giant breath, steels his spine and just says it. “The Trauma is affecting my ability to get laid and I don't know how to fix it. Every time I get close to it I freak out and have to bail.”

There. All out now.

He looks over at Steve, and it's so much worse than being laughed at or pitied. He just looks sad.

He shakes it off quickly, hair barely moving, Eddie notes. He finds Steve's hair routine both endearing and ridiculous.

“Yeah. Okay. That's super common, just so you know,” Steve assures him first. “Robin says it's all connected, your mind and your body, so trauma can, like, get trapped in weird places like that. I can't play baseball anymore. Cause the memory of beating demodogs to death.”

“As you do,” Eddie quips.

“Right. But your thing. Uh. Yeah, it took some time before I could relax enough to even attempt getting laid, let alone actually do it.”

“So?” Eddie drawls, waiting. “How did you get over it?”

Something is off. Steve's not known for being skiddish about sex, but his hesitation and his inability to look Eddie in the eye is setting off alarms.

“Hey, if this is too weird for you-”

“No, I'm good, it's fine. Just, I'm the only person you have to talk to about this, so I'm gonna try to be helpful but, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “in all honesty, I haven't been laid since before Vecna either. Way before. So. Yeah. Not sure I should be giving out advice on anything.”

That's crazy. Like actually crazy. He can't even compute Steve Harrington not absolutely dripping in women. He must have some look on his face because Steve gives a dry sort of laugh, self deprecating, and leans back against the couch with him.

“Weren't you on a date with Brenda Mulligan the night- Vecna’s first attack?”

Steve shoots him a look. “Y- Yeah, but that didn't go anywhere. We weren't, like, compatible or whatever.”

Oh, yeah, it was weird that Eddie knew that at all, let alone remembered it nine months later. “That's too bad,” he replies lamely.

“Yep.”

He feels terrible for dragging down the whole night, it would've been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. But that's never been his strong suit, as evidenced by him blurting out, “If the hottest guy in Hawkins can't find a suitable date, what fucking chance do I have.”

Steve snaps, “Don't say that. What the fuck?”

Great, now he's gone and made it weird. Good job calling your straight friend hot, you fuckin’ dipshit.

They sit in the awkward silence, out of things to say or out of useful things to say. Either way it's them breathing, the clock ticking, and the M.A.S.H. rerun playing softly in the background.

Steve clears his throat. “Whatever, let's get back to the point. You don't have to tell me if you don't want but…what do you think the specific reason is for your…issue?”

He thinks about it. Has been thinking about it, for a while now. “My dick still works, if that's what you're wondering.”

Steve chuckles, high and surprised. “Good for you.”

“Yeah. It's more like, I can't get out of my head. I start worrying about my scars, explaining them if someone asked. I think about how even though I don't want anything long-term, I wouldn't be able to do long-term anyway, because I'm a fucking mess. If it's really bad, I'll get flashes of Chrissy or Patrick's bones snapping, as a little soundtrack to the fun shit happening outside my head.”

Steve looks sad again. Maybe it is pity but it looks more turned inward, like he's dealing with his own shit more than Eddie’s.

“You hooking up with strangers then?”

Eddie blinks at Steve. “Well…duh. Right? Not like I have guys lined up around the block here in Hawkins.”

Steve is full blown scowling at the TV. It's weird.

“What if-”

Eddie waits but Steve doesn't finish his thought.

“What if…what?” He prompts, giving a little nudge with his foot.

He's still avoiding eye contact, not even turning his head to look in Eddie's direction.

In a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear, he says, “What if we helped each other out?”

He must've heard that wrong. Or he's misunderstanding.

“What?”

“What if we help each other out? Like, a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

That can't be right. No fucking way. It's a test. Like as soon as Eddie agrees, Steve yells ‘Aha! I knew you wanted to molest me! Goodbye forever!’ and runs out the door.

“What, exactly, do you mean? Like, what are you getting out of it?”

Steve finally looks over. “Well, I would think that was obvious. If you're willing.”

Eddie's legs are starting to go numb.

“Okay, so I blow you and you blow me, except when you're doing it I have to watch you take it like you're being force fed liver and onions at Grandma's house?”

Steve slowly shakes his head no.

“Oh, okay, so you're going to blow me and enjoy it,” he snaps sarcasticaly.

Steve nods once.

“You want to blow me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums without moving a muscle.

“Since when!” Eddie brings his octave down from the upper atmosphere. “Since when, Harrington? This is insane behavior. Should I call the squad for you? I'm serious. I'll do it.”

“You don't have to say yes. I was just offering.” He says it like Eddie isn't one green flag away from stomping on the gas.

He starts nervously laughing, which makes Steve flinch unfortunately, but he can't stop.

“It's cool, just forget I said anything.” He moves like he's about to get up and leave, which is fucking insane because it's his living room. Eddie stops him with a tight grip around the bicep.

“Don't you dare. If you're even remotely serious, we have to have a much longer conversation. Sit.”

Steve drops like a sack of bricks. Which is…something.

“Right. First off, this is uncommon behavior in a straight friend. Is there something you'd like to tell me, so I don't think you've been body snatched?”

He pinches at the top of his nose, like Eddie is inconveniencing him greatly. Too bad.

“I'm probably bisexual.”

“Probably?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I'm an inexperienced bisexual,” he amends through clenched teeth.

“Good. Great. Happy to hear it.” His heart may explode from his torso à la Ridley Scott's Alien but sure. “Second on the agenda, what do you mean help each other out? What's on the table? Mutual handjobs and then we never talk about it again?”

“No,” Steve answers immediately. That's good. “I'm open to…whatever you're open to.”

“Steve.” He has to clear his throat. “You dont even know what you're agreeing to.”

“I trust you.”

Fuuuuuck.

“Okay, right, uh, let's circle back to that later. Third thing, what, uh, what is your level of commitment with this?”

He just stares at Eddie, all doe eyed. It shouldn't work, Eddie fucking invented that look. It's gotten him out of more scrapes than he can count. Now it's being used against him but to what end? Does Steve want to get bundled up in a blanket and tucked into bed? Because Eddie can make that happen for him.

“Whatever you want, I guess,” he finally says. “I mean, like I said earlier, friends who help each other out. Casual. I'm not interested in looking for Mrs Harrington anymore and you're having a problem relaxing around guys who don't understand what you went through.” He makes a gesture like ‘Ta da.’

He's not wrong. It makes sense. But…

“Fourth thing. Is this just an experiment for you? Cause I'm all for you exploring your sexuality but, historically speaking, friends are a bad place to start.” AKA ‘it will break my fucking heart if you decide you're not that into it and it's because it's me.’

“Eddie. Look.” He gets more comfortable, facing Eddie straight on finally. “What you're going to provide is practical knowledge on what has only been theoretical up to this point, but the theory has already been well established.” He taps his head. “Understand?”

A smug confidence melts Eddie into the couch. “You liiike me,” he sings. “You think about me naaaked. You wanna-”

Steve lands on him, lacking any elegance or grace, and nearly caves their skulls in with his Jay Garrick approach to kissing. Eddie doesn't say a fucking word. He does wonder at the fucking majesty that is making out sober. What a revelation. Steve keeps making these tiny, almost wounded noises, to the point where Eddie tries to back up and do a check in but Steve doesn't let him, he chases him down and latches back onto Eddie's bottom lip like he's Hannibal Lector. It's stupid hot.

Everything is going great until Steve lets out a sound that legitimately has Eddie worried he's upset about something.

He pulls back and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I just can't, I can't believe I got this fucking far. You're so hot I'm losing my fucking mind.”

“Me?” Eddie snaps. “Dude, you're out of your mind.” He pokes Steve in his meaty chest. “Literal. Prom. King.”

“Fucking stupid high school shit, are you kidding me?” He sits up, straddling Eddie's hips, which is boner enhancing to say the least; he's got Steve's thighs in his grasp immediately. “You don't get it, I'm gone on you. I've got it bad, man. I was playing it cool earlier-”

“At no point tonight were you in any way playing it cool.”

“-but, fuck it, guess I'm ruining it, cause I can't be cool about this. I don't want casual. I don't even want to date you,” and before Eddie can even worry about that, he says, “I wanna skip straight to boyfriends, man. I know you said you didn't want long term with anyone but-”

Eddie interrupts again, this time by pulling Steve back down horizontal and kissing him like he just bravely declared himself as all in.

If this is a pod-person, well, that's a problem for Tomorrow Eddie. Tonight Eddie just landed Steve Harrington as a boyfriend.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve was lying on the floor of Robin's room, his back against the wall as he let Robin paint his toenails while he flipped through one of her magazines. The radio played softly in the background.

"I am totally new to having a girlfriend, and by girlfriend, I mean platonic girlfriend," Robin said.

"Well, that's one thing we got in common, I don't think I've ever had a girl who's just a friend," Steve said.

"What about Perkins?" Robin asked.

"She doesn't count, I hated her. She's the reason Tommy became such an asshole," Steve said.

"Hm, yeah," Robin said and paused. "So, how close were you and Tommy?"

"Well, we were friends since we were eight. We pretty much bonded over the fact that we both had assholes for fathers. We shared everything and told each other everything. He told me about his first crush, and I told him about my first crush. We practiced kissing, practiced having sex, and when I got first kiss, I told him immediately," Steve said.

"Woah, woah, woah! Back it up!" Robin exclaimed, and she closed the nail polish. "What the fuck do you mean you practiced kissing and having sex with Tommy Hagan?"

"Exactly what it means," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "We hadn't gotten girlfriends yet, and we wanted to get good before we did. It doesn't mean anything. We like women, so it didn't count."

"It still counts!" Robin shrieked. "Did you or did you not put your lips on Tommy's?"

"Yeah, and I also let Tommy put his dick in my ass. I was basically his pillow," Steve said as he continued to casually flip through the magazine. "It doesn't count if you're not gay, Robin."

"It doesn't work like that! Steve Harrington, the first time you had sex was with Tommy Hagan!" Robin exclaimed.

"It was not!" Steve exclaimed, throwing down the magazine.

"Was too!" She yelled.

"Was not!" Steve yelled.

"Okay! So, let's say if I kissed you right now. . .," Robin said.

"Wouldn't count as your first kiss, you're a lesbian and I'm straight," Steve said.

Robin grinned, a manic look in her eye. She pulled her hand back and slapped Steve across the face. He screamed.

"Didn't count! I'm a lesbian and you're straight!" Robin yelled.

"Okay, okay, I see your point. Jesus, did you have to hit me so hard?" Steve asked, rubbing his red cheek.

"Yeah, dingus, I did," Robin said.

"Okay, so my first kiss was with Tommy, and I lost my virginity. We're not gay, though," Steve said.

"No, just desperate and very horny teenagers, apparently," Robin rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you had gay sex before me, and you're not even gay. I bet you pictured some blond with big boobies."

"Well, no, actually," Steve shrugged.

"Hm, what do you mean?" Robin asked.

"I didn't have to picture a woman. I liked it," Steve shrugged.

"You liked it?!" Robin asked.

"Well, I am a man, Robin," Steve said.

"Uh, except not every man likes it when another man rams it up his asshole," Robin said. "Okay, I kind of wish I had been more delicate about this, but I didn't know this was you being in denial kind of situation."

"I'm straight, Robin, I like women," Steve said.

"Yeah, and did you know that you can like men and women?" Robin asked.

"What?" Steve asked.

Robin smiled and got up to pull out a box from underneath her bed. She pulled out a magazine and tossed it at Steve.

"Read it, study it, learn from it," Robin said.

Steve looked at it quizzically for a moment before opening it. He stared at it for the longest time before finally closing it.

"I am an idiot," Steve said.

"No, you're not. You just didn't know," she said softly.

"Bisexual," Steve whispered, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, this whole time, I thought I lost my virginity to Chrissy Cunningham."

"Chrissy Cunningham?" Robin asked.

"Uh, we used to hang out all the time before she started dating Jason Carver," Steve said. "Our parents ran in the same circles."

"Well, you know, I guess you could say you lost your guy virginity to Tommy Hagan and your girl virginity to Chrissy Cunningham," Robin said.

"Yeah, that's true," Steve grinned. "Thanks, Robin, and especially thank you for giving me that slap. I definitely needed it."

"Anytime that you want me to hit you, I'm your woman," Robin replied.

They moved towards Robin's window sill and sat on it, opening a window to get some fresh air.

"You know this means that I'm not straight," Steve said.

"Something else we have in common," she said.

"You ever wonder how many out there who are like me and who just don't know?" he asked as he looked up at the moon. "Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Probably a lot more than we think," Robin said. "And they're out there, sitting in their closets wondering if they're ever going escape themselves or be rescued."

"Isn't crazy how we found ourselves?" Steve said.

"Maybe queer people just end up finding each other," Robin said.

"Well, maybe they'll find their way out themselves," Steve said and then he looked her, hazel eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Seriously, Robin, thank you."

"You did that yourself, you know, you just needed a nudge. I mean, you could have told me to go fuck myself and continued to live in denial," Robin said. "You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Steve smiled bashfully and glanced back at the moon. He looked at her, with tears in his eyes.

"Is it possible to be platonically in love with someone?" he asked.

"I think anything is possible," she said. "I think it's a definite because I know that I'm absolutely, platonically in love with you."

They dangled their feet out the window and leaned against each other, Steve resting his head on top of Robin's.

"I wish I'd known you sooner," he whispered.

"I wish I'd known you sooner, too," she whispered back.

They were here now, though, and absolutely nothing could get in between them.

Part Two

[catherinnn]

Unspoken Truths

Steddie x fem!reader

as requested, this is a part 2 of Truth or Dare Harrington?

summary: there are fears and unspoken truths among the three of you the morning after, yet desires and feelings as well, threatening your so-called friendship. Would you still dare to choose truth now?

warnings: porn with plot, a lot of smut (+18!!), some angst and some fluff for balance. pin, unprotected sex (please don't do this, this is fiction), oral (f), masturbation (male), cum play, crampie, fingering, degrading, praises. lmk if i missed anything!

words: 4.8k masterlist

You start becoming aware of the soft feeling of the sheet on your skin, your breathing pattern and the comfortable heaviness in your limbs. You open your eyes and roll away to be on your back, then stretch out as you let out a big yawn.

When the memories from last night come back, you realize you're alone in your bed when you went to sleep with two other persons in here.

After you throw on a shirt, empty your bladder and brush your teeth, you go to the kitchen to finally have something to eat. That's when you find the two missing people.

Eddie and Steve are standing on your kitchen having coffee and toasts, barely dressed. You should have noticed the shirts still resting on your bedroom floor.

"Finally, I thought you were dead" Steve says as he sees you. "You sleep more than Eddie, you should be worried about that"

"Oh, leave her alone. She had a long night" Eddie teases you.

"When did you two wake up?" you ask.

"I woke up twenty minutes ago, Eddie like ten minutes ago" Steve says as he grabs another mug. "You want coffee?"

"Yes, please"

You don't know how to describe it, but the air around you three feels thick with a certain tension. Uncomfortable and uncertain.

How does this work now? What happens to the three of you after last night?

It's weird to feel this way with both of them, they have been such good friends to you over all these years. Did you ruin everything?

"Hey, so ummm, how does this work now? Are we back to being friends?" Steve asks after a long silence.

"I would say so, yeah" Eddie confirms. "I mean, it's not like... we can do anything, there's three of us"

"No, obviously" you say.

It feels a little disappointing. You don't know what you were expecting to be honest, but it was not to just go back to normal. Act like it never happened. But Eddie said it best, it's not like you can date both of them at the same time, you also didn't feel like you could choose just one of them.

The weeks passed by, you try to at least act as if everything is normal among you three. But it was hard.

What you didn't know is that the boys felt the same. It was near impossible to ignore, or let alone, forget how each of you kissed and moaned.

Eddie was in hell right now, he was certain of it. Karma had gotten to him.

He played at The Hideout this Thursday like every other week. But this week, you came to see him too. You usually did, it's not like this was the first time you had seen him perform, but it was the first time after that night.

Most of the group was here too, except Steve since he said he already had plans, he said that maybe he'd swing by if he could, but he wasn't sure.

After Eddie played, him and the boys sat with you all again. The girls were teasing you for something and you were just rolling your eyes, hiding your smirk.

"What happened?" he asks.

"She just looks really good tonight, doesn't she?" Nancy smirks.

"Uh, well y- yeah" he got nervous.

"That is a popular opinion today." Eddie frowns at Robin's comment, really confused.

"The waiter just asked for my number" you finally explain.

"Oh, which one?" he asks.

"Ryan"

"Really? And what did you say?"

The girls don't quite realize how uncomfortable this is for the both of you, or if they do, their smirks and giggles are hiding it really well.

"I gave it to him" you shrug.

"You'd go out with Ryan?" he asks, surprised.

"I don't know, maybe?"

"huh" he says in a tone that irritates you.

"What?"

"Just... didn't think he was your type" he says.

"And what is my type?" you ask him, frowning.

"I don't know, I'm just... talking nonsense"

"Alright, I'm gonna grab another drink" you say as you get up.

"Wait, I'll go too" Eddie follows you.

"What's your deal?" you ask him once you're away from the group.

"I don't have a deal" he acts indifferent.

"Then what was that about?" you question.

"I'm just... surprised you'd go for a guy like him"

"What does that mean?"

"He seems like such a douche! From what I've talked to him... I think he's so boring for you" he explains.

"Well, that is for me to decide"

"Of course! Absolutely! It’s just that... as your friend," he says that as if it was ironic, "I know you, and I know you won't like him"

"Do you now?" you ask, gritting your teeth. Who does he think he is?

"Oh, I know you very well" he gets closer, with a big smug smirk on his face.

"Are you jealous? Is that what this is?" you question him and his smirk gets bigger as he chuckles.

"Maybe I am, yes" he whispers very close to you. "Maybe I don't like the idea of you moving on so fast"

Next thing you know he's pushing you against the wall of his room like he had been pushing you against the bar at The Hideout, all for Ryan to see. He kissed you hard and passionate and he still is, even when it's just the two of you on his room.

You can still make out the minty and smoky taste of his lips. His hands are all over you, they settle on pushing your skirt so high up that he can grab your thighs without a distraction while he wraps them around his waist.

His tongue is invading your mouth in a way that makes you whine every ten seconds. He pushes his crotch against yours so you can feel his erection very clearly.

"Eds, please" you beg.

"Okay, pretty girl. I know" he whispers and finally takes off your shirt. "No bra?" he chuckles.

"Doesn't go with this shirt" you explain.

"How convenient" he smirks as he lowers to start kissing your breasts. He did confirm it was one of his favorite parts of your body. He licks and sucks and bites on your nipples, having the time of his life.

He then moves you over to his bed, where you lay on your back. He takes off your skirt and boots. He still stays stood up in front of you, looking like a fucking god as he takes his shirt off, then his pants and shoes as well.

He turns you around in a swift move that makes you gasp, he chuckles at that. He grabs handfuls of your ass with his hands as he pulls you against him once more.

"I don't know if I want you on my fingers or my mouth" he speaks. "Nah, I definitely want you all over my face"

You chuckle at that yourself. He takes your panties off and throws them with his pants so he remembers to keep them. He lowers to start kissing and biting on your thighs and cheeks. Then, he wastes no more time and dives right in, no warnings. His face all against your pussy as he wraps his lips on your clit.

He alternates on focusing on your clit to then your hole, as he enters it with his tongue.

"Fuck, Eddie" you can't help but let out as you grip on his sheets.

He spits on your pussy to then lick it all up again as he fully makes out with your cunt. It all becomes so much, he really gives you no break until you're screaming and gripping on his sheets just to hold on to something as you cum all over his face. He makes sure to not waste one drop, still eating you out even after you came.

"S- stop" you move his face away and he sits up with a big grin to then clean off his mouth and chin with the back of his hand.

"You okay?" he checks on you after.

"Yeah" you confirm, breathing normally again.

"Wanna keep going?" he asks.

"Yeah" you smirk now.

"Stay like that" he smirks as he takes off his boxers throwing them somewhere in the room too. He passes the head of his cock all over your slit to then push it inside, slowly as he bottoms out with a groan.

"mmph baby" you moan.

He start his thrusts slowly, gripping your waist to keep you in place.

They become harder by the second. "Fuck, you're so tight, so wet." His head is thrown back as he enjoys the way you wrap around him.

Your moans make him go harder and faster, and grips you even harder with every clench he feels around his cock.

"Oh god, you're killing me" he whines as he lowers his upper body to hide his face on your neck.

"God, Eddie!" you scream, he bites on your neck, definitely leaving marks.

"You're close, aren't you?" he asks and you can feel his whisper in your ear, making this so much hotter.

"I am, baby" you whine. One of his hands lowers to play with your clit some more, you can feel his smirk pressed on your cheek. He bites you there too, he doesn't know what it is that held over him to want to bite you all over. But it is clearly working for you too.

"Mmh, your pussy is so good, sweetheart" he moans as he keeps moving hard on you.

"Ohhh" you scream as you can feel your orgasm just around the corner.

"Come for me, pretty girl, come all over my cock" he moans, hitting it harder as well as he's rubbing you.

"God- Eddie! Oh, yes!" you let yourself go, almost falling completely on the bed if it wasn't for him gripping you and keeping you in place.

He used you as he wanted to, as he needed to. Your face completely on his mattress as he moves faster, messier. His gaze locked on the way you were milking him, making him achieve his end a few seconds later.

"Holy sh- shit" he exhales as he falls on the bed right next to you.

"God, that was-" you say breathlessly.

"Yeah, so good. So fucking good"

"Incredible"

--

A week later, you were planning on going to see Eddie play once again. You were surprised to see Steve and Robin had the same idea. The three of you sat at a table with Eddie now too after he played with the band.

Steve doesn't know if he's being paranoid or seeing clearly. He feels like Eddie and you are being extra touchy and flirty. You sat next to each other and he had brought your chair even closer to his.

At one point you reached on the table to grab a napkin and Steve noticed Eddie's hand was on your waist.

You also laughed at every single joke Eddie made. Don't get him wrong, Eddie is a funny guy, but not that much. You shoved him as you laughed and he smirked down at you with his hand still on your waist.

But he might be reading too much into it. Maybe it was just his jealousy talking.

Or maybe that really is a hickey on your neck, which you tried to hide by wearing a turtle neck. But it peeks out either way, and Steve noticed it.

He got his answer thanks to Robin's clumsiness. He has never been more thankful of it.

She was telling a story of how a waiter here had dropped all of his tray right next to her, last week.

"Was it after you two left earlier? Or... wait, maybe it was when you were by the bar. Did you see it? The whole bar turned around to see what happened"

"No, it has to be when we weren't here anymore" Eddie confirms.

"Oh, you two left earlier?" Steve casually asks you.

"Uh... yeah" you say, trying to not give much away.

"Yeah, they bailed on us together. What even happened after that, huh?" Robin teases, not knowing just how much she was actually asking.

"Oh, shut up" you roll your eyes trying to act playful as if it really wasn't a big deal.

Eddie chuckles and raises his eyebrows.

Every piece fell into place for Steve. The hickeys, the clinginess. You two did it again. He felt so fucking jealous, like a warm and awful feeling in his stomach.

--

"There's Vicky, see you later guys!" Robin runs to her girlfriend's car and leaves once the night is over, leaving you three behind.

An uncomfortable scene unfolds. You all stand there looking at the car take off, neither of you knowing if you should talk about it, but if you didn't... what could you say instead?

"So..." Eddie turn around facing you two now.

"Are you two leaving together?" Steve asks, playing dumb.

"Uh- he's just dropping me home" you explain.

"Yeah" Eddie confirms.

"And... how long were you planning on keeping it a secret?" Steve finally asks.

"Steve..." you start.

"Dude, i- it's not like that. We're not..." Eddie somewhat explains.

"You haven't talked about it yet?" Steve chuckles and you shake your head awkwardly.

"How about coffee at my place?" you offer, really needing to talk to the both of them.

Steve was harder to convince, he said he didn't want to get in the middle, but it was obvious he was hurt. At the end, the three of you do end up sitting at your table.

"Last weekend we were together again," you come off clean to Steve, "just that one time"

"Just that night?" Steve frowns.

"Yeah, we haven't really... talked after that, we didn't know how to proceed now" Eddie explains.

"You don't need to explain anything to me-"

"You're jealous," Eddie interrupts him. "and I get it. If it had been you two, I think I'd be mad as hell right now. That may be why I rushed into it again" he confesses.

"You like her... a lot" Steve notices and Eddie nods. "and I like her too" Steve confesses.

"O- okay" you say, surprised at how this is unfolding. "You both want... something more with me?"

The two of them nod.

"I'm not choosing" you refuse.

"You already did" Steve looks down.

"No, I didn't... if it had been you who tried with me again, I would've said yes too" you confess.

Weirdly enough, Eddie didn't feel jealous or hurt at that, as he thought he would. The thought of you with Steve also exited him quite a lot. Steve felt like that as well. It was hard to explain for him, so he ignored how arousing it was for him to think about you two together again, and focused on the part that felt the jealousy... the thing is he didn't know exactly who he was jealous of in particular, because it wasn't just of Eddie. He was jealous he wasn't there too.

"I like both of you, equally... and I think you two may feel that way too" you're the only one that had the guts to admit it first.

"B- both of us? I'm not... particularly jealous of just Eddie. I'm jealous because I would've liked to be there too, with both of you again" Steve takes his time, but finally gets it off his chest.

"Do you like me too?" Eddie asks Steve. He didn't know why, but he was frightened to ask that out loud.

"... I do" Steve confesses, feeling just as scared.

"I like both of you too" Eddie is the last to agree on that.

"So... how does this work now?" you ask.

"I have no idea," Eddie says and Steve nods. "We don't need to figure it out right now, we can... just see where this takes us"

"But... would we be exclusive among us three from now on?" Steve asks.

"Well, I would say so" you go.

"I gotta, umm... cancel a date then" Steve admits.

"Really?" you laugh.

"Well, the last thing I knew it was that we were staying as friends... and I was planning on respecting that!" he defends himself.

"Yeah, sorry about that" Eddie says.

"Tell me about it" Steve asks all of the sudden. "How was it?"

"What?" you say surprised.

"Tell me, I wanna know" he gets comfortable, smirking.

Eddie smirks too looking at him that way. "You really wanna know all about it, big boy? Tell him, princess. How was it?"

You were already regretting choosing both of them.

"How was it?" You check but they both nod, smirking at you. "You guys are mean" you roll your eyes and they chuckle.

"Come on! Don't get shy now"

"It was... really good" you whisper.

"What did you do?" Steve asks with interest and you chuckle nervously.

"Well, we went to his place, to his room. We made out for quite a while, he had me against the wall," you start explaining, loving the attention of both of them and how they listen closely to your every word. "he took off my clothes, and then put me on his bed, on all fours..." It's like they're not even blinking, not wanting to miss a thing. "He ate me out like that... with that pretty face all over me"

"Shit" Steve mumbles.

"I came all over it too" I smirk and so does Eddie.

"You know how good she tastes" Eddie tells Steve and he nods.

"He took off his clothes then, making me stay in that position... and he fucked me" you tell him. "He left all these marks on me" you lower the neck of your shirt so they can see the purple and red marks.

"Fuck" Eddie shifts in his seat, uncomfortably, as he sees what he did to you. The tent in his pants is making them really tight and he can't sit still.

"And then he made me cum on his dick… and he came inside me" you finish the story.

Steve has the exact same problem as Eddie right now. Imagining everything you were telling him, the way you told the story, your voice, your eyes focusing on both of them at a time.

Now, you look at both your boys shifting in their seats, looking hot and bothered. You smirk.

"Is that what you wanted to know? Why are you so quiet now?" you tease them.

"You're getting a little too cocky now, princess" Eddie gets up and leans over on you. "Why don't we make it up for Stevie here? We were mean to him"

You nod, "let's go to my room" you offer and they both follow you.

As soon as you enter the room Steve starts kissing you. Eddie smirks and joins you quickly, he alternates on kissing Steve's and your neck, one kiss at a time.

You go to kiss the long-haired boy now, Steve growls and wastes no time in getting rid of some of your clothes. Your shirt; Eddie's jacket; his own shoes.

You stop kissing Eddie to look at both of them expecting their kiss. They take the hint and look at each other smirking. They grab each other's face at the same time and start making out.

Meanwhile, you decide to tease them. You take off the rest of your clothes by yourself. Bra, skirt, shoes, panties. And you decide to throw that last item at them, laying on the bed.

They both groan as they realize what you threw and when they see you all naked for them in the bed, with a big smirk that they then copy, getting on the bed with you.

Steve makes out with you as Eddie kisses you all over. Neck, breasts, belly, thighs. He might have been leaving some bite marks around as well.

When he gets comfy in between your legs, he dives in head first. Licking a long stripe of your cunt, swallowing, and then spiting on it. He makes out with your pussy the same way Steve makes out with your lips. The latter one also plays with one of your nipples meanwhile. Twisting it around his fingers softly and so deliciously.

With everything they're doing, you're already feeling hot and heavy.

The noises that all of you combined are doing help a lot too. The sounds coming out of Eddie's tongue against your wet cunt, and his occasional groans and chuckles. The heavy breathing of Steve. Your muffled moans that die on Steve's mouth. It's all helping your case.

Your hand flies to grab each mane of hair, as usual. One tugging on Steve's hair, the other on Eddie's. Pushing both of them impossibly closer to you. They both groan as they love the action.

Your legs fight to close around Eddie's head but his hands stop them, gripping them harder.

"You're gonna cum on his face?" Steve stops the kiss to whisper in your ear now, looking down at Eddie who seems very busy. "Cum all over that pretty face of his, look at him, so fucking pretty" he keeps rambling. "Come on, baby, make a mess of it, then maybe I'll lick it clean"

You moan at that, just imagining it.

"Oh God" you arch your back, both hands pushing Eddie even closer, you start moving your hips as you need against him. Surprisingly, he lets you do it with no problem. His moans dying on your cunt.

"Oh God, Yes!" you mumble more incoherent moans as you feel yourself come undone. A loud moan coming lastly to then fall completely on the bed, after the pleasure exploded inside of you.

Still feeling a tingle all over as you lie breathlessly on top of the sheets.

When you open your eyes again, you see your boys still having their fun. Steve does as he said and licks Eddie's cheeks and mouth glistening with your wetness. They make out as they take each other's clothes off clumsily.

Both are hard a rock, as they make out they can feel their erections crashing between them. Eddie grabs them together to then move his hand up and down, around them both.

"Shit"

"Ohh"

They both moan, Steve's head resting on Eddie's shoulder and Eddie looks down dumb at their dicks together.

You enjoy the show in front of you with a smirk, working you up again. Rubbing your legs together as you feel your pussy clench around nothing.

Eddie notices your movement and turns his head towards you to mimic your smirk. He whispers something on the other boy's ear and they stop. He crawls towards you till he's on top.

"How do you feel, pretty girl?" he asks with the smirk still on.

"Ready for more" you say as you wrap your arms and legs around him, bringing him closer. You start kissing, hungrily.

"So eager again? Someone's insatiable" Steve teases you.

"How are we doing this now?" you ask.

"I was thinking," Steve starts. "why don't you show me how good you two spent your night alone?"

"What?" Eddie asks.

"I'll watch you from here" he answers.

"Don't you want me to suck you off meanwhile?" you propose.

"Fuck, baby. You're so sweet," he strokes your cheek. "but I really want to watch you two. We have time to keep trying different things later, now that I know we'll be doing this again"

"And again, and again, and again" Eddie adds, grinning.

"I hope you're planning on doing this on different days too, because you'll kill me otherwise" you joke.

"Don't worry, pretty girl. We'll have a lot of time for that" Steve says, smiling.

"Alright. Ready, princess?" Eddie checks on you, bringing you closer.

"Very"

"Let's make a good show for our Stevie here, yeah?" he whispers and after you nod, you feel the head of his cock running up and down your cunt, making it already clench again.

He pushes it in slowly, enjoying the way you wrap him up. He stops midway, his hands grab your legs and places them on his shoulders. He looks right into your eyes as he fully enters you now.

"Ohhh" you let out, eyes rolling back.

Eddie fits so good inside you, filling you in all the right places.

"Shit, princess" he grabs your waist and starts moving, creating a rhythm. "That's it. You're so tight, shit"

"Fuck, Eddie" you arch your back, Eddie's pace feeling delicious.

"So good, so fucking good" he keeps it up.

You turn your head to look at your other boy sitting in the big bed, fisting his big cock slowly, biting his lip.

You keep eye contact with him as your face shows all the pleasure you're feeling right now. Steve eats it right up, going faster.

Eddie pace is faster now as well. Gripping your legs in place. Your hands go up, gripping the sheets as your whole body arches. The tip of his cock massaging right at your g-spot.

"Oh, Eddie" you scream now, biting your arm whose next to your head.

"You want something in your mouth, baby?" Eddie teases you. "Here" he puts his thumb in your mouth as he grips your chin to look up at him. "Good girl, wrapping me up so nice, so fucking nice baby. Never need another cunt, yours is the best one"

He alternates on looking at your face, sucking on his finger so dumb and pathetic, teary eyes fighting to not roll back all the time; at Steve, stroking his fat cock shamelessly, also ogling at him; or down at your pussy, swallowing his cock like the best, creating a creamy ring around it.

"Fuck, Eddie! More!" you beg.

"You want more? Such a dirty slut, so dumb and pathetic over my cock. You want it harder? Really rough?" he mocks you, only making you wetter.

He puts your legs around his waist now and really slams in and out of you, faster and harder.

"God! Eddie!" you scream, wrapping your legs around him really tight.

He lowers to kiss all over your chest and neck. Your hand now fly to his hair, pulling on it like you know he loves.

"You're close, aren't you, baby? Yeah, I can feel it" he teases as his hand lowers to abuse your clit some more.

"Fuck! Eddie! I'm cuming! I'm- ohh" you arch like a cat as you scream, cuming for him.

"That’s it, Atta girl" he moans, his pace now messier as he's reaching his high as well. "I'm right behind you, baby"

"Cum for me, Eds. Fill me up, please, I want it" you beg in his ear, knowing dirty talk is his weakness.

You feel long ropes shooting inside you, he falls on top of you, moaning your name.

"Shit, you're the fucking best baby" he lets out finally, all done. He pulls out, making sure nothing spills out and stays warm and full inside you. "Steve, come look at this" he orders and the other boy comes closer, watching as Eddie's cum fills you up, trying to fall out of you but Eddie puts it back in with his fingers.

"Fucking shit" Steve tugs harder at his cock.

"Fuck her tits" Eddie gives him the bright idea.

You sit up, Eddie behind you helping to push your tits together so Steve can fuck them. The head of his cock appearing and disappearing again in between your breasts.

"Oh God" he moans, right on the edge.

And after all of that, he finally cums. Shooting all over your chest, neck, and even on your face.

He falls back, catching his breath. Eddie licks some of the cum off of you to then kiss you.

Steve gets up and goes to the bathroom, coming back with a towel to clean you all up.

"Can you stand, baby?" he asks. You shake your head, legs feeling like gelatine.

"Let me take you to the bathroom" he carries you there, letting you pee and clean yourself. You also brush your teeth and open the door to see him waiting to carry you back to the bedroom.

Eddie tidied most of bed up, as much as he could. You bring both your boys to lay on each side of you, cuddling all together.

"Night, loves" you say.

"Good night", "Sleep well", they both wish.

And you all close your eyes thinking how the hell you got so lucky to have two of the best people in all of Hawkins to yourselves.

[inthedarknessofnight]

Steve Harrington has OCD. There are days when he can barely hear his own thoughts. Days when he can't focus on anything else but whatever is triggering him. Days when he just wants to crawl out of his own skin.

No one around him gets it. Like, really gets it. He loves having everyone over at his place, loves filling the empty house with joy and laughter he never experienced as a child. But over and over again, he feels like he can't really be present in the moment. Because he gets stuck in a never-ending loop of mental checklists, pinpointing every single item that will need to be cleaned or put back in its place after they leave. Crumbs all over the couch. Henderson touching everything in his general vicinity with greasy, pizza-stained fingers. People walking straight into the house after swimming in the pool. Rug on the bathroom floor always wrinkled and askew. Tiny specs all over the kitchen that only he seems to notice. He knows they're little things. Unimportant, right? A little mess can't hurt you? He knows... He just wishes his brain would get it, too.

And it doesn't just impact him, either. His incessant bitching sets others around him on edge. That's probably the worst part of it all. Nancy used to get so annoyed with him whenever he'd ask her to not sit on his bed in her 'outside clothes'. He's pretty sure Robin hates cooking with him because of all the rules he has in the kitchen, but she usually just sighs and rolls her eyes. Dustin deliberately misunderstands his requests or, better yet, pretends he doesn't hear him at all.

Not Eddie, though. Because Eddie notices. The way Steve seems unfocused at times, like he's somewhere far away. The way his eyes tend to dart around the room. The way his posture changes when someone unknowingly does something that triggers him. He makes little mental notes of all the triggers and makes sure to remember them. So he starts taking off his shoes at the door, placing them on the rack. He cleans up after the kids, quickly wiping the kitchen counter and floor as Steve's busy walking everyone out of the house. He straightens the bathroom rugs. He wipes the floor after taking a shower at Steve's, so that there isn't a single droplet of water to be found anywhere outside the shower cabin. He changes his clothes before lounging around on Steve's bed. It takes Steve some time to notice everything Eddie's been doing to help out with his triggers.

It's a little after midnight, and Steve has finally managed to kick the little dipshits out of the house. He walks back into the kitchen where he is met with the sight of Eddie crouched down, a whisk broom and dustpan in hand. Something clicks then, stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait... How long have you been doing this?"

Eddie freezes then and glances up quickly, looking every bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh, sorry, it's just- I noticed the stuff on the kitchen floor makes you kinda uncomfortable, so I thought I'd help out a bit," Eddie says softly, like he's scared he's done something wrong. Steve feels something warm spread around in his chest, followed by a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes.

"And the rugs? Was that also you?" Steve's voice is shaking now. But he can no longer prevent it. He's about to have a full-on breakdown in front of Eddie Munson.

Of course, Eddie, the perceptive bastard that he is, has already picked up on what's about to happen. He quickly sets the tools aside and straightens up, taking a few strides towards Steve, ducking his head to catch Steve's downcast gaze. To make sure he's okay.

"Hey, Steve, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm so sorry," says Eddie, gently placing his hands on Steve's shoulders to offer a reassuring touch. There are now silent tears rolling down Steve's cheeks, but he brings himself to meet Eddie's gaze nevertheless.

"No, no, Eddie, you didn't. It's just- How did you know?" Steve asks, somewhat hesitantly.

"Because," Eddie moves his hands up to cup Steve's face, looking at Steve like he's trying to see straight into his soul, "because I see you, Steve Harrington."

[emchant3d]

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week. 

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it. 

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger. 

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing. 

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?" 

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep. 

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching. 

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

[psychotic-nonsense]

In October of 1967, Steve Harrington is born in Hawkins, Indiana.

He's raised there, forced to live under the strict expectations of his parents, Richard and Samantha. Barely escapes their clutches, freedom fueled by the kids and adults that take the role of guardian and family when the time is right. Keeps himself in check with the always impending apocalypses that arise beneath his feet.

In June of 1985 - when Steve Harrington is 18, while Richard and Samantha Harrington are visiting New York for an extended work trip - Veronica Harrington is born.

She was carried and raised in secret from their hometown. They take care of her between their business hours, dropping her in the hands of nannies and babysitters galore. They don't even think of Indiana during Veronica's early childhood, too focused on work and making sure their daughter starts up right.

In October of 1986 - when Steve Harrington is 19, aged further by ending the Vecna War, yet tamed by his newfound love in Eddie Munson - Richard and Samantha Harrington return to Hawkins.

They don't ask about what happened to their son. They don't ask about the town. They don't ask questions, just give responses to them. Sneering at Steve's friends, complaining about the state of the house, commenting at the disfunctional chaos their home has become.

In November of 1986, Richard and Samantha Harrington disown Steve.

They just let him go. They at least give him a folder of his legal documents, but otherwise just tell him to get out of their house and never use their name again. Claiming Steve doesn't need anything from the room because the Harrington's own everything in it. They don't call him son, they don't say goodbye, they don't acknowledge who's actually taken care of the house, they don't admit most of Steve's former room has changed with money Steve earned himself, they don't dare to give him any money or care where he goes. They just say they're sick of dealing with an unworthy mistake of a child, and force him out of their house.

In November of 1986, the Party's adults adopt Steve.

He runs to them first after everything happens. Held himself together at the start, but broke down the second the words were out. While everyone was trying to comfort Steve, Wayne Munson and Jim Hopper were the first to succeed. They know firsthand that this family would never be the same as blood, no matter how much that blood has boiled and burned before, but the love will be stronger and it will be here. When everyone seconds it, Steve finally accepts it. He becomes a child of the Party - he's everyone's son and everyone's brother, taking whatever surname he sees fit.

In November of 1986, Steve Henderson and Eddie Munson leave Hawkins.

Despite all this good, Steve can't bear to stay in this damned town a second longer, where everyone knows who he is and will soon know everything he isn't. And it's not like Eddie was looking forward to sticking around Hawkins either, especially without his Steve. The kids are the first to agree, surprisingly, and the adults promise to find a way for the boys to get out. Later that week, when Richard and Samantha leave the house to prepare for Veronica, Steve and Eddie break in to take everything that's rightfully theirs. While they're there, not sure what prompts him, Steve makes a bag of his clothes with shoes and his wallet tucked within it, shoving it into his closet. Dustin's mom uses an old favor to get the boys an apartment in Chicago, the Party has one last farewell, and the two boys are gone.

From 1986 onward, Veronica Harrington is raised in Hawkins, Indiana.

Richard and Samantha are adamant in their daughter coming out exactly how she should. They steadily convince the town to forget the Harringtons ever had a son and lock the room on the second floor next to the stairs without ever touching the inside. They raise her with formality and pride at the top of their expectations, wanting at least one child to come out right.

But Veronica is the spitting image of Steve's honesty and care. She puts on a facade when needed, but even at a young age, she wants nothing more than to be someone's light in the darkness. She plays with every lonely kid at school, and tries to make people laugh at the business parties she's dragged to. It's not received well by her parents, but Veronica is much too strong willed and stubborn to let it phase her.

In April of 1991 - when she's 6 and they're so much stronger around their hearts - Veronica Harrington meets Steve and Eddie Munson for the first time.

It's the year Erica is set to graduate high school. Steve and Eddie have been making the drive for every holiday this year, ordered determined to give her the best senior year she could have. It's Easter Sunday, and Wayne somehow managed to drag his boys away to church - a Munson custom, as even Eddie insisted they go.

While at the snack table post sermon, a little girl comes up to Steve, mistaking him for her father. He and Eddie gently comfort the girl, introducing themselves and offering to help the girl find her parents. That's when Veronica introduces herself, striking Steve deep in his heart. Still, he keeps quiet, even gifting her a little origami crane made from napkins at the table. He calls her "chickpea" for the color of her dress, tells her to keep the crane secret and safe, "If ever you need to find your way back home, you hold that close, and it'll tell you."

Meanwhile, Wayne has come across Richard and Samantha in the crowd opposite the kids. Exchanging formalities, Wayne mentions his son and nephew are in town, news the Harrington's are surprised at, as Wayne didn't seem like the father type. However, trying to keep face, they remain civil and insist on introducing their daughter.

Cue Veronica running to her parents with Steve and Eddie in tow. Cue Steve calling Wayne dad right to Richard's face. Cue the Harrington's immediate leave from the church, Veronica waving behind her with a crane placed carefully in her pocket.

From then on, Veronica Harrington's life changes indefinitely.

Her parents' expectations grow tenfold. She finds out she's horribly allergic to chickpeas. All of her friends must be approved by her parents, and any that don't fit their image are ordered to leave her.

Veronica takes these changes in stride - is her class's top student, captain of the softball and volleyball teams in junior high, keeps the friends she wants in secret from her parents - but she can't help but keep the crane in a little box in her room. Gets a necklace with a little origami crane pendant, holds it whenever she needs to make a hard choice. Can't help but expand herself in secret, learn things her parents would never approve of - lock picking, other languages, sleight of hand, a clothing style that's nothing like the dark blues of her family, all warmth and light. She explores every room in her house, yet is unable to find her way into that room upstairs next to the steps.

In May of 1998, Veronica Harrington discovers the truth about her brother.

She's about to be a freshman. Her class was touring the high school in preparation, and while passing the athletics hall, her eyes hit the swimming trophies. Each row stuffed with trophies, and each one with a name that stabbed her right in the stomach: Steve Harrington.

After that, she couldn't bear all the secrecy anymore. Late that same night, she finally uses her lock picking skills to break into that room. And though it's devoid of life, it is a bedroom, so evidently lived in. It's frozen in time, twisted sheets covered in dust, old papers crinkled from being stepped on but not picked up, old clean clothes still sitting in the hamper. It's a boy's room, clearly, and Veronica is careful walking around this place of memories.

She does still explore, quietly clicking on lights around the room, too cautious to touch the overhead lights. She looks under the bed, finding a bat and a trash can lid, both embedded with rusty nails. A shirt that still smells like fresh laundry yet has a back stained permanently with long red lines down the shoulders. Dozens of stapled documents labeled NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT, detailing horrific events that each have that same name signed at the bottom.

With shaking hands she checks the closet, and finds it mostly empty. All except for a deep green graduation robe and cap, a cream Hawkins High letterman, and a duffel bag hidden in the back corner. The cap has a 1985 tassel, and the letterman has Harrington branded on the back with basketball and swimming patches galore. And the bag, when she checks it, looks like a survivalist pack someone would make in an apocalypse. At the top sits a wallet, and inside is an ID for a Steve Harrington, who has the same face as the one in her origami memories.

And Veronica is done. She wakes up the next morning and throws Steve's jacket on the kitchen table, startling both her parents mid sip of coffee. She finds herself in a screaming match with her father, demanding them to quit lying to her, begging to know who her brother is.

In a fit of rage, Richard tells her. Tells her everything Richard and Samantha never saw in Steve, about Veronica's secret birth, the disownment, Steve's disappearance from the Harrington house and Hawkins. She's reminded of that one Easter Sunday, and is told how Richard and Samantha faked Veronica's allergy to keep her mind from being tainted by whatever curse befell their bloodline before. Orders her to never say that name again.

In a fit of rage, Veronica bites back. Calls her parents cruel and overly expectant. Comes clean about her secret freedom. Says she'd rather be nothing than ever carry the burden of the Harrington name ever again.

She hides away in her room after the fight. Cries in her closet with her origami box cradled tightly to her chest, begging it to take her home because this place isn't anymore, maybe never was. Cries for the brother she never even got to meet, who went through so many horrible things yet still got put through this same punishment. Cries for the future she won't get to have, losing her hope for a new beginning that will now never be.

At the start of June, 1998, Veronica runs away.

She makes it through the rest of May in near silence. She writes notes for all of her friends at the end of the school year, and one for her parents to inevitably find. Finds 75 dollars in Steve's old wallet, stuffs the duffel bag the rest of the way with her belongings, and says goodbye to Hawkins.

She takes the first bus she can find out of town. Doesn't care that it's going to Chicago, doesn't really care where she's going now. She befriends an old homeless man riding the bus as well, becomes another interesting name in his "Book of Wanders (Pronounced as Wonders)." As Veronica's telling the story about unknowingly meeting her brother, she remembers the crane in her bag. She reaches in to retrieve the little box, then the crane, nearly crying seeing how disheveled and unfolded it is. Broken and doomed, just like her. But looking at it now after so long, she thinks she sees something written inside it. Despite it shattering her heart pieces, she carefully unfolds the little crane.

At its center, in old, bleeding blue text, reads, "Find the Swooping Bat if you've lost your way."

The old man laughs then, taking Veronica's hand and placing it onto her chest, over her heart. "It's fate," he whispers in the dark bus. "There's a place called that in Chicago."

Veronica uses her money to rent them both a hotel for the night, giving the old man a warm bath for the first time in weeks. She gifts him the clothes as well, saying it's, "an honorary thanks from my brother, for helping me get here." They bid each other farewell in the morning, the old man telling her to keep hold of fate.

She finds her way to the Swooping Bat easily, hand on her necklace guiding her way. It's a quaint little diner, popular enough to be comfortably warm when she walks in. A young lady in a wheelchair - Max, says her nametag, with pins saying things like, "Summer work blows" and "USC grad or bust!" resting on her collar - guides her to a booth next to the sunrise.

"Anything I can get you today?" Max asks when Veronica's seated.

Veronica's fully ready to order everything on the menu, what with how delicious this place smells, but then she remembers her funds. 5 bucks, if she's lucky. "Just a chocolate milk, for now. Biggest one you have, please." She somehow plays off Max's skeptical look, her eyes sweeping over Veronica's no doubt disheveled and no-food-in-36-hours appearance.

It somehow works out, and Max is wheeling away. Veronica allows herself a moment to collapse, stomach growling in pain and eyes burning with the realization she has no idea what she's going to do now. She just has this last bit of hope to hold onto, and without it, she'll be nothing but a husk.

She's not sure how long she sits there, staring at the sunrise and letting sound and AC whisk her mind away, but there's suddenly a little knock on her table. Her head snaps up, and there's Max again, setting down a giant glass of chocolate milk... alongside a loaded breakfast plate.

"It's on the house," Max rushes to explain, all fondness when Veronica scrambles to get her wallet. "Courtesy of the owner. And between you and me," she whispers with a wink, "just take the damn food, kid."

Veronica stumbles over herself for a moment, rendered near speechless, before she finally comes back. She begs Max to thank the owner profusely, before rushing to dig into the pancakes before her. She's halfway done dousing the stack in syrup by the time Max wheels away, when there's suddenly someone laughing.

"Of course," says a choked-up voice behind her. "Can't have any chickpeas starving in my booths."

Veronica nearly drops her fork. She turns so sharply she gets dizzy. Seven years can't change a person that much, surely, because though he's bigger in the torso and he has glasses on the bridge of his nose and his hair is cut so close, he still has the same softness in his voice and the same slouch in his stance and the same moles around his eyes and his smile is so bright despite the tears in his eyes, and though Veronica can barely see through tears herself, it's not like she needs them anyway to know it's-

"Steve!" she cries, scrambling out of the booth to meet her brother halfway. The relief of it all working out has the rest of her restraint collapsing, forcing harsh sobs out of her and into Steve's shoulder. The siblings hold each other in the middle of a restaurant, a voice in the background asking everyone to leave them be. Steve doesn't stop whispering, even as his chest heaves with broken gasps between tears, "You're save, Veronica, I got you, I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're safe here, it's okay, sis, it's okay..."

"That you, lil' chickpea?" whispers a different voice once they've calmed down. Veronica reluctantly pulls away and finds a man kneeling beside them, a hand on Steve's shoulder and similar tears in his eyes. His hair and tattoos remind her of the tamed wild from seven years ago, covered in black in the middle of church yet glowing brighter than the stained glass, the one that Steve looks at in past and present with a glowing love Veronica never saw between her parents.

"Yeah," she whispers, wiping her tears away before placing a hand atop her necklace. It catches Eddie and Steve's eyes and make them beam with pride and relief. "Yeah, it's... it's me...."

[steddiehyperfixation]

not nothing

@steddiebingo prompt: friends to lovers | 1.6k words | T | 3+1 fic (three times steve and eddie kissed drunk + one time sober)

"Never have I ever...kissed someone sober," Eddie says, sitting on the floor in the living room of his and Steve's apartment with Steve, Robin, and Nancy. The girls are in town from college for a long weekend, and they've taken it upon themselves to fill Steve and Eddie in on the college experience of playing drinking games.

They all (except Eddie of course) take a sip of their drinks at Eddie's statement. They also all look at him with varying degrees of surprise, confusion, or maybe even concern at this information.

“What, really?” Robin asks.

“Uh huh.” He doesn't think it's that crazy. He certainly doesn't think it's all that unexpected from him either. They all know he's never had a proper boyfriend before or anything, and he’s not particularly looking for one either. He's perfectly happy with his life as it is and the people in it. A handful of drunken experiences at clubs and parties is more than enough for him.

Steve frowns at him. “No, that can't be true. You and I have kissed before.”

“Yeah, while drunk.”

“You guys have kissed?” asks Nancy, her eyes slightly wide as if she's more shocked by this fact than the previous one.

“Yeah,” Eddie repeats, “while drunk.”

“And how often does that happen?” Nancy continues to question. God, it's like an interrogation in here all of the sudden.

“It's only been like…” Steve shrugs, glancing at Eddie like he's trying to remember. “What, a couple times?”

“Three times,” Eddie says, “I think.” As if he could ever forget, as if he can't still recall each and every instance in vivid technicolor. No matter how drunk he'd been, kissing Steve Harrington has a way of burning itself into the memory of even the most alcohol-soaked of minds.

1.

The first time it happened, Steve had been in a slump for weeks after getting broken up with, and Eddie, tired of watching him sullenly skulk about their apartment like a ghost, had finally dragged him out to the club, making it his own personal mission to find him a stranger to kiss to help him get over his ex. They took too many shots and danced to shitty pop music while Eddie kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they might be Steve’s type. Steve only frowned and shook his head at every girl Eddie pointed out.

After about 7 shots and Eddie’s 12th attempt to nudge him towards somebody, Steve had rolled his eyes in annoyance and shouted over the music, “If you want me to be kissed so badly, why don’t you do it?”

So Eddie did. No thought at all, just grabbed him and kissed him. Steve stiffened slightly in surprise like he hadn’t actually expected him to do it, but then he kissed back almost immediately, and there they were: making out messily on the dance floor with flashing lights and too-loud music thudding like a heartbeat all around them.

It felt like dancing; fun, mindless movements, heat and warmth and thrill. It felt like taking another shot; blood turned to fire and mind dazing over.

Eddie woke up the next morning still feeling it on his lips.

They talked about it, briefly, in the kitchen over coffee after commiserating together about their mutual hangovers. “It’s not weird that we kissed, right?” Eddie asked, just checking. He couldn’t tell yet if he felt weird about it himself or not.

“Nah, of course not,” Steve had brushed it off with a wave of his hand and a good-natured grin. “I used to kiss my friends all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

So it wasn’t a big deal. And they didn’t talk about it again.

2.

The second time it happened was at a 4th of July house party thrown by a friend of an acquaintance, since all of their own friends were out of town. The place was full of people they didn't know who all knew each other, so they had a few drinks and tried to mingle but eventually they both ended up alone together on a balcony, relieved to be in only familiar company, quietly watching the beginnings of neighborhood fireworks crackle in the indigo sky.

“I’m bored,” Eddie announced, the quiet making him itchy and the alcohol in his veins making him want to do something.

“Me too.” Steve finished off his drink of about 90% vodka and 10% Sprite (which Eddie knew because he was drinking the same exact thing, having poured them both himself at the free self-serve bar), and glanced sideways at him. “Wanna make out?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie agreed without question. He set his drink aside and Steve's lips were on his in a matter of seconds.

3.

The third time it happened, they didn’t even need to ask anymore, not really. They were out, just the two of them, drunk on a nightclub dance floor again and Steve just wordlessly lifted his hands as if to hold Eddie’s face and raised his eyebrows. Eddie shrugged, why the hell not, and leaned in.

+1.

They were nothing, those kisses, just a fun thing with a friend. Brushed past and moved on from easily, not buried in shame or secrecy but simply inconsequential and not worth lingering on, then and now. Nancy’s still got this look like she thinks there’s more of a story here, but she too moves on with the conversation as the game of Never Have I Ever continues, and Steve and Eddie’s drunk kisses are brushed past once again. No big deal. Nothing.

Eddie is just fine with that. He doesn’t mind it all being nothing, because if it’s not nothing - if he lets himself think even for a second that it’s not nothing - then to him it would be everything. And that’s simply too much.

But anyways, he's not lingering on it. The party goes on and Eddie's taking a drink at Robin’s “Never have I ever kissed a man,” and it's all forgotten now.

At least, he expects it to be all forgotten. But then the next morning he's sitting in the kitchen eating fucking toast when Steve walks in, pauses for a second, and then asks, “Have you really actually never kissed anyone while sober?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie confirms, mouth full. “Really actually.”

Steve puts a bagel in the toaster then leans back against the counter as he looks at Eddie. “Would you want to?”

Eddie blinks, swallows his mouthful of toast. “What, are you offering?”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugs. Like it's nothing. “I mean, if you want. It's not like we've never kissed before.”

“Right, yeah.” Eddie sets down his half-eaten toast, the bread sticking to the inside of his mouth now, too dry all of the sudden. “I just, um. I think I’d probably be bad at it sober. You know, like, I’d get too in my head about it or whatever.”

Steve shrugs that off too, smiles and makes light of it, “I don't care. Even if you were bad at it, I’m willing to bet you real money you probably still wouldn't be the worst kiss I've ever had.”

Eddie laughs, grateful for Steve's humor and reassurance, but still he shakes his head. The mere suggestion is already making his heartbeat faster and his face feel warmer, and he can't let himself get like this, not over Steve. Not over nothing. “Yeah, I still just- I still just shouldn't though.”

“Okay,” Steve says simply. His bagel pops out of the toaster and his attention diverts to plating the two bagel halves and spreading them with cream cheese. Eddie, assuming that's the end of the conversation, relaxes somewhat and resumes his breakfast. But then Steve's turning around, taking his seat at the kitchen table opposite Eddie, and asking, “Not that it matters at all, but can I ask why?”

“I already told you-”

“Yeah, you think you’ll be bad at it, I know. But that's not the only reason, I can tell.”

Eddie shoves the rest of his toast in his mouth to avoid the responsibility of an immediate reply. He stands and takes his plate to the sink. Only with his back turned does he find the courage to answer honestly. “Because it wouldn't be nothing,” he admits as he rinses off his plate, hoping just a little bit that the running water might drown out his words. “If I kissed you sober, I think it would mean something to me. I think it would really, really mean something to me.”

A pause - an awful, agonizing pause in which Eddie, certain he's just fucked up a perfectly good friendship, seriously considers sticking his head under the faucet and attempting to drown himself - and then Steve says, barely louder than the water, “And you think it wouldn't to me?”

Eddie immediately shuts off the sink and turns to look at him. “Would it?”

“Yeah.” Steve's eyes have gone soft. “Eddie, it always has. Why do you think I'm asking? Why do you think I've been asking?” He smiles, a little sheepishly and with a self-deprecating shrug. “I was just…trying to play it cool.”

There are so many ways Eddie could respond to that, ranging from incredulous to teasing, but a wave of fondness rolls through him so completely there's really only one thing he can say: “Get over here and kiss me right now.”

Steve wastes no time in standing up and moving towards him, and Eddie rushes to meet him in the middle. They crash into each other, bodies colliding and hands gripping tight, but when their lips meet it's surprisingly gentle.

Eddie's first sober kiss happens right there in the kitchen, barefoot in his pajamas with his roommate, his best friend, Steve Harrington; and it couldn’t be more perfect. And it's everything.

[hairmetal666]

Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

--

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

--

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

--

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

--

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."