#steve harrington what have they done to you

[whosscruffylooking]

Open Arms Chapter One

steve harrington x fem!reader word count : 6k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1984~ This chapter takes place during Season 2 Episodes 1-5

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Another day in Hawkins. Another day of high school. Another day stuck in the same small, sleepy town you’ve known for as long as you can remember. It feels like nothing ever changes here, like every day just blurs into the next, predictable and quiet.

Every day, you wake up wishing for some kind of miracle, something that could shake things up, make life a little less ordinary. Something that could turn your world… Upside Down.

“Y/N!” your mom calls out from the kitchen, “Is Steve giving you a ride today?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Mom, seriously…when was the last time Steve drove me to school? He has a girlfriend to pick up now.”

Steve, your best friend since the first grade. To everyone else he was The Reigning King of Hawkins High. To you he was just the boy next door who reigns havoc on your life, makes everything a little more complicated whether you want it or not. 

Your mom hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time you found yourself a boyfriend.”

“I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

She gives a little shrug. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be nice to be taken out on a date once in a while?”

“Mom,” you sigh, “please take your matchmaking somewhere else.”

She’s not wrong, though. You haven’t let yourself even think about dating anyone else since the last “almost” with Steve. Around a year ago, he’d done something reckless enough to mess up things with Nancy, and she seemed to be getting closer to Jonathan Byers. You had just gotten out of a relationship yourself. 

It happens every time: he messes things up with a girl, or you’re fresh out of a breakup, and suddenly, like clockwork, you’re back in each other’s lives, circling each other. It’s as if you’re both bound to this endless cycle of almosts—falling together just to fall apart again. You know the game by heart, and you’re tired of it, tired of the late nights that never lead to anything real, the unspoken words that hang heavy in the air between you both. But still, you can’t seem to let go.

Nothing ever actually happens. You just end up crashing at each other’s houses, watching movies till you both fall asleep, or driving out to Lover’s Lake to stargaze and rant about your trainwreck love lives. But you both know what it is—and what it isn’t. The truth is, you’re bound by a history no one else could touch. Growing up together, you made the stupid decision of being a lot of each other’s firsts, and you’ve always been the one person who truly gets him. It’s a bond that runs deeper than most things in your life, yet it never seems to go anywhere beyond these stolen moments. And maybe that’s why it hurts the most—knowing he’s always right there but never fully yours.

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At school, you overhear the girls in the hallway whispering about the new guy in town. Though “guy” isn’t the word they use—they’re calling him a real man, with a muscle car to match and actual muscles to back it up. You’ve never been the type to shy away from guys, and you’ve certainly never had any trouble attracting attention. Still, something about the way they talk about him piques your curiosity, though you’d never admit it.

You notice the once-empty locker beside yours is finally in use, a few things tossed inside. You wonder briefly who claimed it. That curiosity doesn’t last long.

“Excuse me, gorgeous, but I think that’s my locker.”

You turn to find the living, breathing embodiment of the girls’ descriptions. Tall, sharp-jawed, with piercing blue eyes, and that effortless, cocky grin. You don’t even have to ask if it’s him.

“Oh—my bad,” you say, stepping aside.

“And what’s your name?” he asks, his smile unwavering.

Who does he remind you of?

“Y/N…” You try to pinpoint it, that nagging sense of familiarity.

He tosses his keys into the locker, eyes still fixed on yours, something almost playful in his gaze.

Then it hits you.

“I’m—”

“Knight Rider?” you say slyly, a smirk playing at your lips. He blushes just a little, caught off guard, and you savor the small victory.

“Well played,” he says, taking your hand into his for a confident but gentle shake.

“That’s just the beginning,” you respond, shutting your locker with a quiet click, eager to keep the mystery between you two alive.

“I hope so. I’m Billy by the way,” he replies, his voice softer now, still slightly in awe of you. There’s something in his eyes—a challenge. And you can tell, he’s baited.

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At lunch, you find yourself walking through the crowded cafeteria, scanning the room for a familiar face. As luck would have it, you bump into Nancy and Steve near the food line.

“Hey,” Steve greets, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity. “What did you think of the new guy? Total douche, right?”

You catch the look on his face, a mix of hope and something else you can’t quite place. It’s clear he’s fishing for your opinion, eager for you to agree with him.

You shrug, trying to keep your tone casual, though you can’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean…” Your voice comes out just a bit higher than usual, betraying your uncertainty. “He’s like the entire cast of The Outsiders wrapped up in one package.” You leave it at that, the playful jab hanging in the air between you three.

Nancy chuckles, gripping her tray closely as she looks between you and Steve. You take the opportunity to point at her, nodding toward Steve. “Looks like your girl might agree with me too.”

Nancy gasps and bursts into laughter. “I don’t know, I guess. He’s not really my type though.”

You smirk, not missing a beat. “That’s so funny, because I’m pretty sure I saw a David Hasselhoff photo in your locker just last week?”

Steve’s face falls slightly, and you catch the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes. “Oh please,” he says, his tone a bit too defensive, “he is not David Hasselhoff.”

“Knight Rider,” Nancy interjects, her eyes darting between you and Steve. You both freeze, caught off guard.

“What?” You ask, happy she sees the resemblance too.

Nancy looks back and forth between you two, realization dawning on her. “He has the car, the curls, and the mus—muscle car.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing her. “You just said the car twice. Sure you didn’t mean another kind of muscle?”

Nancy giggles at your comment, but Steve pushes you playfully, though there’s a layer of something more in his touch—like he’s trying to keep things light but it doesn’t quite feel like it used to.

“Have I told you that I hate you?” Steve mutters under his breath, though it’s more playful than anything else.

You smile, your tone laced with the usual teasing. “All too often.”

But as you both lock eyes, something shifts. It’s not just a playful exchange anymore. The usual banter feels heavy now, the space between you both thick with unspoken words. Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same distance creeping between you two that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore. You quickly look away, forcing the feeling down as Nancy continues to laugh, unaware of the sudden tension lingering.

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You’re walking down the hall, a few steps ahead of Steve, the sounds of lockers slamming and voices all around you fading as the tension between you both hangs in the air. Every time you glance over your shoulder, his gaze is already on you—lingering, just a bit too long.

You both fall into an uneasy silence. It’s not the comfortable quiet you used to share, but something heavier. Something unspoken.

You stop for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I’ll see you in class,” you murmur, turning to leave.

But Steve’s voice stops you. “Hey,” he calls softly, his hand brushing yours as he steps into your path. His touch is warm, too warm for something so casual. His fingers linger for a split second before he pulls away, but the moment still sits between you, unresolved.

You look up, meeting his eyes. His usual cocky confidence is gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to break the silence.

“Steve…” You don’t know what you’re going to say. You want to say something that makes it all feel normal again, but the words feel stuck in your throat.

He opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again. “Never mind.” The smile he forces doesn’t reach his eyes again. It’s strained, tight. And suddenly, you can’t look at him anymore.

Turning quickly, you walk past him, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

From down the hall, Nancy watches the exchange, arms folded, leaning against the locker as she observes. There’s no jealousy in her gaze—she’s been there too. She knows the space between two people who care for each other but don’t know how to bridge it. She’s seen it with Jonathan, with the way they get tangled in unspoken words and moments that feel like too much, but too little at the same time. It’s just the way things go sometimes.

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*Flashback*

1 year ago

It’s a Friday afternoon, and the hallways of Hawkins High are quieter than usual. Most of the students have gone home, leaving the echoes of footsteps and lockers slamming shut. You and Steve are walking side by side, the familiar warmth of his presence at your side like it always has been—comforting, easy.

You laugh as Steve pulls an exaggerated face, trying to get you to laugh at his antics as he mimics one of the teachers. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re such an idiot,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He bumps you back, almost knocking you into the lockers. “You love me for it,” he smirks, and there’s a hint of something else in his gaze, something unspoken that lingers between you, like a question neither of you has the courage to ask.

You roll your eyes again, but there’s no denying the way your heart skips. “Yeah, maybe,” you say, trying to brush it off. But you both know that maybe means something more.

You reach the end of the hallway, your steps slowing as the moment stretches, neither of you wanting to be the first to turn back, to end this rare, quiet time between just the two of you.

He glances over at you, his steps slowing, his voice quieter when he speaks again. “Hey, so… Bryan still around?”

You stop walking, surprised by the question, but it’s Steve, and it’s always been easy with him. “No,” you reply, shaking your head. “He’s out of the picture.”

Steve’s expression softens, a slight smile playing on his lips as if the weight of something between you two has been lifted. “Good. He never really seemed like the right guy for you.”

Your breath catches slightly at the unexpected warmth in his words, but you don’t let it show. “Yeah, well… sometimes you don’t really see things until it’s too late.”

Steve nods, looking down for a moment as if he’s trying to decide something. He looks back up at you, his usual carefree grin returning. “Well, if you’re not busy tonight, you wanna come over to my place? We can grab some takeout, watch movies… you know, normal hangout stuff.”

There’s something in his invitation that feels different this time, but you brush it off. It’s Steve. He always invites you over. You’ve done it a million times before—movies, pizza, talking about everything and nothing. It’s what you do.

“Yeah,” you agree, “sounds good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes, his expression shifting. You feel your stomach flutter, the air between you thickening as the playful banter dies down.

You find yourself leaning in, just a bit, and you see Steve’s breath catch, the tip of his nose almost brushing yours.

But before you can get any closer, a loud bang from down the hall makes both of you snap apart like you’ve been caught.

You both step back, instantly awkward, eyes darting everywhere except at each other. The spell breaks, but the tension still lingers, heavy in the air. You glance at Steve, and his expression is unreadable—like he’s trying to hide something, or maybe it’s you who’s hiding it.

You break the silence first, a half-laugh escaping your lips. “Well… that was close.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, looking embarrassed but also relieved. “Yeah, totally. We’re just—uh, messing around, right?”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but your heart is racing, and you know he feels it too. “Right. Just messing around.”

But neither of you says anything more. You both head in opposite directions down the hallway, still feeling the echo of what almost happened, both of you wondering if the other is thinking about it too.

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At last, it’s the day of the party. You’ve spent longer than you’d like to admit getting ready, but you’re finally happy with your look. Blue bell-bottom jeans, a tight orange top with a center zip that falls just below the line of modesty—it’s bold, but you feel good in it. Confident, even.

You arrive at the party, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling inside you. The music pulses through the house, and people are scattered, laughing and talking, their faces blurry in the haze of a dimly lit room. As much as you try to act like you don’t care, the anxiety creeps in. Funny how someone so confident can still feel out of place in a crowd.

You push through, trying to find your core group, but as you weave through the bodies, there’s really only one person you’re looking for. Steve. The one person who has always had a way of making you feel like you belong.

On your way through the crowd, you bump into Jonathan Byers. Another one of your longtime friends. You’ve all grown up together in Hawkins, so you’ve seen each other through the years—some friendships stronger than others, but still, it’s hard to forget those familiar faces.

“Jonathan!” you call out with a smile, pulling him into a quick hug. “Loving the look, very you.” You nod at his usual, low-key style—flannel and jeans. He’s always been the quiet, thoughtful one in the group, and you just want him to feel good about his understated vibe.

“I like… your shirt,” he says, his words trailing off awkwardly.

Well, at least your shirt is doing what you intended it to. Maybe just not with the target audience.

“Looking for Nancy?” you ask, hoping he’ll pick up the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jonathan responds, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I don’t really associate with anyone else here.”

You put on a mock-offended face, “Ouch.”

He immediately backpedals, realizing how it sounded. “I mean, you were gone for a while. We kinda lost touch.” His gaze drops a little, clearly uncomfortable, referring to the time when your parents separated again, and you spent some months with your mom in California. It had been a rough time for you, especially being away from Steve. You’re still not sure how you survived that.

“Well, I’m back now,” you say, brushing off the past. “Come on, join me. I’m on a mission to find Steve and Nancy.”

Jonathan nods, grateful for the company. “Alright, lead the way.”

And there he is, leaning against the wall by the kitchen, laughing at something someone said, a bottle of beer loosely held in his hand. He’s effortlessly cool as usual, but there’s something different tonight. Maybe it’s the way his eyes flicker over to Nancy every now and then, or the tightness in his posture that betrays the casual air he’s trying to maintain.

Nancy stands next to him, arms crossed, her jaw clenched in that familiar way when she’s upset—though it’s hard to say if it’s the alcohol or something else that’s fueling her frustration tonight. She’s leaning a little too heavily on the counter, her face flushed, the words she’s muttering barely audible over the noise of the party.

Steve’s smile is gone now, replaced by a more serious expression. He’s trying to keep things light, but it’s clear she’s not having it. 

As you and Jonathan walk toward the kitchen, you spot Steve and Nancy in their little world, tucked away by the counter. You can hear the edge in Nancy’s voice, even from a distance, though you can’t make out the words. Jonathan follows your gaze, his brow furrowing. You can’t blame him for looking the way he does—he’s been around long enough to know the dance between Steve and Nancy.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your voice quiet, though it feels more like an automatic question than one you really expect an answer to. You’ve seen enough of this cycle to know the routine.

Jonathan glances over, shaking his head just slightly. “I don’t think so,” he says, a rare seriousness in his tone. “But you know Nancy. She’ll push through.”

You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you watch Steve’s stance shift, his body leaning toward Nancy as if trying to reach her without crowding her, trying to give her space but also not let her slip too far away. There’s something fragile in the air, something more than just the tension between them. It’s like Steve’s holding on by a thread, and maybe Nancy is, too, but neither of them wants to admit it.

“You should probably go talk to them,” Jonathan says, glancing at you. He doesn’t know what to say either, but it’s obvious that Steve’s been trying to manage things on his own. You could step in—or let him handle it.

You glance at Jonathan again, silently debating what to do. Jonathan nudges you gently with his elbow. “You good?” he asks. You nod, taking a step forward, your voice hesitant but warm. “Hey, guys, what’s going on?” you ask, trying to break through the tension without adding to it.

Nancy shoots you a sharp look before turning away, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got that defeated, yet resigned, look on his face as he exhales deeply. He’s trying to hide it, but the frustration is written all over him.

“Just the usual,” Steve says with a small, forced smile, looking at you.

Nancy, still with her arms crossed, shoots you a look that says more than her words do. It’s not that she’s mad at you; it’s just that she doesn’t want to be the center of attention right now. She’s not ready to have the conversation.

Jonathan stands by you, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to say something. You don’t know what the right thing is. The silence in the room is thick now.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Nancy slurs, her words trailing off as she pushes past Steve, who’s still trying to calm her down.

“Please don’t,” Steve says, his voice low and frustrated, but he’s too late. He sighs and chases after her, leaving you standing alone for the moment.

Not long after, a voice you’re starting to recognize from the past few days calls out from behind you.

“So if I’m Knight Rider, then who does that make you?” Billy’s voice is smooth, cocky, and unmistakable. He’s standing just a few feet away now, that grin still plastered on his face.

You turn to meet his gaze, letting a playful smile tug at the corners of your lips. You raise an eyebrow, a silent challenge in your eyes. “You’ll have to learn more about me to find out.”

He steps a little closer, eyes narrowing with amusement. “When?”

The question hangs in the air, and for a split second, you feel that old rush of excitement—the thrill of the unknown. Remembering your mom’s less-than-subtle hints this morning, you decide to play along.

“How about Wednesday night? We can go see the new Terminator movie. You look like someone who appreciates a little Arnold Schwarzenegger,” you say, testing the waters, letting a hint of flirtation slip into your voice.

Billy doesn’t hesitate, that confident grin of his widening. “It’s a date. I’ll pick you up. And…I’ve been to the gym Arnold works out in.” 

You raise your hand to stop him, a slight smirk on your face. “Right…I’m sure you have. Also, I’ve seen how you drive your car. Maybe I’ll meet you there,” you tease, enjoying the playful banter.

He chuckles, stepping back, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “I’ll go nice and slow just for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the tension between you both shifting into something lighter, something you haven’t felt in a while. But as you look past him, your eyes flicker briefly to Steve, catching him trying to pry the solo cup out of Nancy’s hand. Just as the music halts, that red solo cup and the red mystery punch within it spills all over Nancy’s white shirt. 

Her face is in complete disbelief, she sways back and forth her reaction clearly slowed down by her alcohol intake.

“Screw you.” 

Jonathan follows her quickly into the bathroom. 

“You know,” Billy starts again, “Rumor has it that you and Harrington have quite the colorful history? Why is it that you two aren’t prom king and queen this year?” 

Something in Billy’s tone instantly makes you second-guess your plans for Wednesday. His fading smirk tells you he’s noticed the flash of disdain on your face.

“What does it matter if you’re the one taking me on a date Wednesday?” you say, your voice edged with a warning. You’re feeling oddly protective over you and Harrington’s history, a past that’s none of Billy’s business.

Billy raises an eyebrow, caught off guard but intrigued. “Fair enough,” he replies, but the cocky glint in his eyes lingers, as if he’s still sizing up the situation.

Shortly after, you spot Steve storming out of the bathroom alone, Nancy nowhere in sight. His expression is tense as he heads straight for the drink station, a familiar frustration in his stride. You catch a glimpse of Jonathan making his way toward Nancy, so you turn to Billy with a polite excuse and make your way over to Steve.

“Hey, you don’t need to be drinking any more right now,” you say, noticing that Steve has downed two cups of punch in the short walk it took to reach him.

“I’ve got a pretty damn good reason to,” he mutters, his jaw tight as he opens a beer.

“Steve, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but at least think about the fact that you still have to drive home,” you warn, trying to keep your tone light.

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes. “You can drive me.”

“I never volunteered for that,” you reply, crossing your arms.

For a moment, he looks at you, really looks at you, and you can tell he’s realizing that things are different. You’re not just there to pick up his pieces anymore. You have your own life to live tonight—a party to enjoy, and maybe even boys to dance with. The weight of another round of Steve-and-Nancy drama? That’s not something you’re willing to carry this time.

“You’re right,” Steve says, setting the beer down with a sigh. “I’ll just go sit out on the porch and sober up a bit. Then I’ll head out. And I wanna make sure Nancy gets home safe.”

You give his arm a quick squeeze, silently admiring that, even in the middle of an argument, he’s still looking out for her. That is… until his gaze drifts to the front door, where he sees Jonathan helping a barely-standing Nancy out to his car.

Crap.

“Go sit on the porch. I’ll be right there,” you say quickly, hinting you’ll handle it. You rush outside to catch up with Jonathan. “You know how this looks, right?”

Jonathan gives a solemn nod. “She asked me.”

Nancy lifts her head slightly, her words slurred and muddled. “I don’t want… Steve to take me home. Not Steve. I want to see Barb’s parents. Take me to Barb’s house.”

You pause, taken aback. “Barb’s parents? Why do you want to see Barb’s parents right now?”

Jonathan stiffens, worry flickering in his eyes. “Uh, I really think I should get her home now. Maybe check on Steve too.”

Without another word, they’re off, leaving you standing in the night with a sense of unease. You know Barbara Holland was Nancy’s best friend, missing since last year. But why would she bring that up now? And why with such urgency?

You find Steve out back, leaning against the porch railing, eyes glazed with frustration and a hint of sadness.

“Steve…why would Nancy want to see Barb’s parents tonight?”

He shakes his head slowly, the alcohol clearly loosening his grip on restraint. “God, I wish I could tell you everything right now. It would make things so much easier. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. But for the past year, I’ve been keeping so many secrets from you.”

A pit forms in your stomach. “What do you mean, Steve?”

He looks at you, eyes haunted, and whispers, “If I told you, you’d die.”

You laugh nervously, trying to shake the unease settling over you. “C’mon, it can’t be that serious.”

“There’s stuff going on around here that you have no clue about.” He reaches up, gently brushing a stray hair from your face, his fingers lingering a second longer than they should. Your heart skips, half hoping this is just the alcohol, half hoping it’s not. He always does this, walks that fine line.

His voice cracks slightly as he murmurs, “I just want to keep you safe.”

In that moment, you realize it’s not just words—it’s a plea, and you can feel the weight of something dark lurking just beyond his gaze, something he desperately wants to shield you from. 

You give Steve a gentle pinch, trying to ground him. “I’m safe, Steve. I’m right here, see?”

But he only shakes his head, eyes dark with something close to dread. “Here is where it’s least safe. Those things… they’re out there.”

A chill runs down your spine. “What things, Steve?” You search his face, recognizing the unmistakable truth behind his words.

He just looks away, jaw clenched. Instinctively, your mind flashes back to last year, the disappearances of Will Byers and Barb. Then Nancy and Jonathan, vanishing for days without a word. Everyone assumed Jonathan had to hold things together while Joyce spiraled, refusing to believe her son was dead. There was even a funeral, and she still wouldn’t admit it. Then, against all logic, Will came back with no real explanation.

You remember Steve acting strangely after everything went down. He kept trying to make peace with Jonathan over the fight they got into outside the movie theater, but he dodged every question you asked about the night he went to Jonathan’s house, laughing nervously or changing the subject so fast it left you spinning. Then there was the night you found a bat in the trunk of his car—nails hammered into it like some kind of makeshift weapon. When you questioned him, he just shrugged it off, calling it a “guy thing,” and you let it go, though every instinct told you there was more to the story.

Whenever you pushed for answers, Steve would wave it off, teasing you about reading too many mysteries and spending too much time theorizing. But seeing the fear in his eyes now, the weight he’s carrying, it hits you like a punch: you were right to question everything. And he knows it, too.

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You drive Steve’s car back to his house, figuring you’ll pick up your mom’s in the morning. One night won’t matter.

Helping him up to his room, you can’t shake the strange coincidences piling up around Hawkins.

“I missed this,” he mumbles, settling onto his bed.

“What?”

“You… in my room,” he says softly, grabbing your hand. “Stay tonight. Don’t leave.”

“You have a girlfriend, Steve. I don’t stay over when you have a girlfriend.”

He sighs, eyes full of something almost desperate. “What kind of girlfriend says she isn’t really in love with you?”

You freeze. “I’m sorry—what?”

“She said we’re just… acting like we’re in love,” he says, voice rough with frustration and something else.

You can see it—the hurt he’s tried to bury, the way he’s tried so hard to be enough for someone. To finally feel wanted.

His arms slip around your waist, his head resting against your stomach, and you feel his shoulders shake. Silent tears he doesn’t want you to see.

“Hey, hey… She was drunk, okay? Everyone says stupid things when they’re drunk. Talk to her tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

“She meant it,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You gently push him back onto the bed, pulling the covers over him. “You’ve got a long day tomorrow, Steve. Get some rest, and we’ll figure out the Nancy thing together.”

You hate to leave him like this, but you know it’s the right thing to do. So, once again, you walk away, leaving your best friend alone with his heartbreak and the last traces of alcohol on his breath. Another turn in the endless cycle that is your friendship—always there for him, even as it pulls you back into the same, unbroken loop.

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The next day, Billy and Steve square off on the basketball court, the air thick with tension. Billy’s been taunting him non-stop, poking at Steve’s so-called “King Steve” reputation like it’s a worn-out joke. But Steve keeps his cool, mostly.

Until Billy casually drops your name.

“So tell me, Harrington,” Billy sneers with a smirk, “what made you go for the Wheeler girl over Y/N?”

Steve feels the muscles in his jaw clench, but he doesn’t take the bait. He knows better than to react. But Billy’s not done. He moves closer, a low chuckle escaping as he continues, “I mean, the King and the Princess of Hawkins High—cute match and all. But damn, man, have you seen the hips on her? Perfect for holding onto. Word is you already took her for a test drive, too. So I gotta wonder… why didn’t you ever claim her? Or maybe you just weren’t man enough?”

Steve’s control snaps. He shoves Billy hard, fire in his eyes as he stands inches from him, fists clenched. “Say one more thing about her. I dare you.”

Billy laughs, clearly enjoying himself, but there’s an edge to Steve’s stance, a fierce protectiveness that makes even Billy pause. Steve glares, his voice low and dangerous. “Y/N’s worth more than someone like you will ever know. So keep her name out of your mouth, or you’ll regret it.”

Right on cue, Nancy’s soft voice cuts through the tension. “Steve?” She stands just a few feet away, looking pale and uneasy, clearly having seen the entire thing unfold.

Billy smirks, throwing a last taunt over his shoulder. “Good luck, Harrington.” He saunters off, leaving Steve standing there, fists still clenched, his heart pounding.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

“Y/N!” your mom calls from downstairs. “Steve is here!”

Steve coming through the front door? That’s unusual—he’s always climbed the vines up to your window. You quickly spray a bit of perfume, fix your hair, then catch yourself in the mirror. Why are you even putting in effort for him?

When you come down, your mom throws you an excited smile, her back to Steve so he can’t see. She’s still holding onto that hope she’s had since first grade that you and Steve would end up together.

And then there he is, standing in the entryway with a bouquet of sunflowers—your favorite. Your heart stumbles as you take in every inch of him. For a brief second, you let yourself imagine you’re the only girl he brings flowers to. But realistically, he’s probably just coming from Nancy’s or on his way there next.

He hands you the flowers, his gaze lingering. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s no big deal,” you say, trying to steady your voice.

“Well, I should get going,” he says, and your heart sinks. That’s it? 

“But, uh, make sure to open your window. There’s a nice breeze out tonight,” he adds with a wink. You bite back a smile, catching on.

You say your goodbyes and dash up the stairs, ignoring your mom’s questions as Steve leaves. You open your window, sitting on your bed, waiting for him like you have a hundred times before. Somehow, after all these years, the excitement still feels brand new.

“Miss me?” He slips through the window, quietly so your mom doesn’t hear, and makes himself at home. He turns on your record player, the soft hum of music filling the room, then joins you on the bed.

He stares down at his hands. “I’m sorry for the position I put you in last night. It wasn’t fair, and you deserve better.”

You try to catch his gaze, but he’s clearly embarrassed. “That’s what best friends are for,” you say, hoping to ease his guilt.

You bite your tongue, unsure whether to bring up what he shared last night—but you’ve never hidden things from each other, and you don’t want to start now. “You told me about Nancy… how she said it felt like you were just acting in love.”

He sighs, defeated. “Yeah. I confronted her about it today. Asked if she could say she loved me, and she couldn’t.”

Your heart aches for him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Maybe she’s just… having a moment. A lot’s happened this year.”

The silence hangs between you for a moment, heavy with unsaid words.

“I’m gonna bring her flowers after this. I don’t think it’ll change anything, but she deserves an apology for everything I put her through,” he finally says, breaking the quiet. You smile, resting your hand on his knee. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He looks down at your hand on his knee, his fingers hovering for a moment before he covers it with his own. His expression softens, a hint of something he quickly tries to hide, but you can see it—a sadness mixed with a reluctant acceptance, like he knows exactly what all of this means.

He lets out a quiet sigh, staring at your intertwined hands. There’s a heaviness in his eyes. Like even if things with Nancy are ending, there’s something between you and him that’s never quite let go.

His fingers tighten around yours, just for a second, before he releases your hand and gives you a small, bittersweet smile.

“You should go,” you whisper. You don’t want him to. But he needs to. 

He reluctantly resigns himself.

“Can I come pick you up in an hour? Maybe we can go to the movies or something?”

You know you should say no, but you can’t. “If you and Nancy aren’t making out and making up within the next hour then yes, we can go to a movie.” 

He stares at you, and you can’t quite read him. You avert your gaze. 

“It’s so funny,” he speaks almost as if he can’t believe himself, “No matter what…or who…I always need you.” 

And with that he’s out the window and on his way to try and win back another woman.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

[mrsjellymunson]

Hurt Me

Written for the @steddiemicrofic November prompt ‘guard’ | WC target: 532 | Rating: M | CW: hurt/no comfort, angst, mentions of sex, feelings denial, self-sabotage | Tags: rockstar!Eddie Munson, personal assistant!Steve Harrington, top!Eddie Munson, bottom!Steve Harrington, shameless use of pop song lyrics 

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it. If Eddie’s learned anything from a life on the road it’s that he needs to guard his heart. There’s no room for messy things like feelings, emotions, anything even resembling love.

And that’s definitely not what they had. Absolutely not. Not by a long way. Whatever he and Steve had was strictly business. 

Until it wasn’t… 

So what if they happened to cross paths when Eddie swung by Hawkins on a break from touring, and he realized Steve wasn't that douche from High School anymore, he was actually a good dude. 

Or that Steve ended up being the best Personal Assistant Eddie’d ever had. Or that he became the best friend Eddie’d ever had.

And so what if they started hooking up after shows, they were just purging adrenalin, right? And then between shows, then after meetings, then before meetings…

So what if Steve sometimes stays the night - it’s just easier to get to whatever thing they have the next day. Or that they shared a hotel room that time - they had a lot of prep to do and it just made sense to stay close so they could work. 

So what if Eddie’s disappointed every time they get back to the big city where they have their own places. Where Eddie can get Steve on the phone anytime, sure, but where that’s not enough anymore.

So what if, when he slides into Steve’s tight warmth and he whimpers into the pillows, it stirs something inside Eddie. Or, when he gazes into those molten caramel eyes, he searches for flecks of forest green that he’s convinced nobody else has ever seen. So what if, for years, it’s the closest thing he’s felt to being anything resembling… complete.

So what if Steve’s the first person he’d consider letting top him since that awful encounter he had years ago. So what if he wants to ask him if he would.

None of it means anything. It doesn’t.

Just like it doesn’t mean anything now, when Eddie’s dressing for yet another interview and going through his dresser looking for the perfect ripped black tee out of the hundreds he now owns. Absolutely not looking for the one Steve picked out for him that time for a photoshoot, telling him it was the hottest he’d ever looked.

He’s definitely not overthinking how he broke things off, bitchily yelling at Steve to go back to Indiana because,

“The rockstar life doesn’t suit you, dude.”

Or how Steve retorted,

“Have you ever considered that by pushing people away, the only thing you’re guarding yourself from is happiness?”

So what if Eddie sits and weeps, amongst piles of black leather and satin and chains, and tells himself,

“So what? I'm still a rock star, I've got my rock moves. And I don't need Steve. And guess what? I'm having more fun now that we're done.”

He snuffles and wipes snot from his nose with the heel of his hand.

“I'm gonna show him tonight. I'm alright, I'm just fine. And he’s a tool. And I don't want Steve tonight.”

He’s done the right thing. He’s sure of it…

Thanks so much for reading! There’s more Steddie minifics on my masterlist, if you’re interested (and I promise the majority are happier than this one 😆)

A/N2: This gets added to the list entitled Times I Wrote Something & Made Myself Cry. I’m so sorry… Also, what is this obsession I apparently have with SteddiexP!nk lyrics? IDK, if you work it out LMK 😆 Also, props to @morningberriesao3 for the idea of an ‘awful encounter’, I hope this doesn’t count as plagiarism but if it does LMK and I’ll totally change it! 🙏

Tagging my usuals, ILY (list is open) @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland

[fandoms-in-law]

Ophelia's Son: Addams Visiting

Author's note: I'm not going to let Cleopatra actually visit Hawkins. I'm pretty sure the Party would immediately kill her. Also I do have more ideas to play with in this world so I'm not saying it's over forever, just for now.

Summary: A storm is forecast for Hawkins so what better time for the Addams Family to come and visit

Continuing on from Ophelia's Son Smoking What Will Grow and Abigail

/\

There was a storm due. Steve had been debating since hearing about it whether he should invite everyone over for a sleepover or just prepare to drive through the storm fetching anyone who got upset. Robin and Eddie had already invited themselves over and had been laughing together about his worrying.

The knock at the door stopped the laughter and had them all glancing to the closet he’d stored the nail bat in. Steve chuckled at the realisation they’d all done it and went to answer the door without grabbing it.

“Hello, um, Aunt Morticia and everyone. Come in. I didn’t know you were visiting.” Steve blinked at the half dozen people stood on his doorstep, including the giant carrying all the suitcases.

“Good lad, Steve. We saw the weather forecast and simply had to come.” Gomez greeted, shaking his hand rapidly before he’d held it out. “Lurch will bring everything in but you’ve got some wonderfully ominous woods Wednesday was begging to explore on the drive through. Hope you don’t mind us arriving then going out for a walk immediately.”

“In a storm?” Eddie asked, sceptically.

Morticia beamed at him, “Of course. What better weather. And the moon is full too which is wonderful for the skin when it spears through.”

“We’ll prepare rooms for you all while you explore then.” Steve agreed easily, letting Lurch past.

He would definitely need more blankets if the party needed comfort through the storm now, but extra company wasn’t a bad thing at all.

/\

Morticia had been close to frowning as she took in the Harrington house, but forced a smile for Steve, saying, “Oh it’s got a Je ne sais quoi about it, charmingly but far too bland.”

“Tish! That’s French!” Gomez stumbled out of his chair ceasing her arm to start ravishing it.

After a moment of watching this Steve looked away a little awkwardly, “Um, I’ve set up spare rooms for you. Yours is top of the stairs, second to the right. If you want privacy or, you know.”

“Much obliged,” Gomez agreed, now carrying Morticia up the stairs, kissing the back of her neck when he could. “We’ll talk later.”

“Steve, remind me never to speak anything other than English around any and all Addams’s from now on.” Robin asked after they’d heard the door shut. Granmama’s insistence that they’re in love over some Russian made a lot more sense if that was Gomez’s reaction to French. She did not want to test if it applied to other people speaking foreign languages or not.

Steve glanced at her, smirking, “I might be suffocating you if you do. Just to avoid whatever love dust is.” He snickered to hear Eddie’s yelp as he’d been finishing off the rooms somehow.

“Glad we agree.” She nodded briskly, “Now how are we going to make the kids witness that so they’ll stop trying to set us up?”

“I’ve got some French cook books I think,” He said after a moment, deciding to ignore the possibility of it occurring that night or just because of the kids nosiness about his relatives now, "Could do a family dinner.”

“Perfect.”

In the reactions of his Aunt and Uncle Steve had momentarily forgotten that there were also two kids staying with him. Granted they’d both quickly gone to entertain themselves and each other but he was usually more alert over anyone younger given his kids likelihood to get into deadly situations.

He was reminded of them by Pugsley coming through frowning. “Cousin Steve, you don’t have any tunnels yet.”

“No Pugsley, I’ve not found any.” He answered mostly hoping he wasn’t about to be told about Upside Down tunnels again. Having it happen once with Dustin was beyond enough/

“We’ll start making them now.” Wednesday offered, climbing out of the closet, cuddling a headless doll and his nail-bat. “Any pipes to avoid?”

Steve reached to take the nail-bat back, sighing, “Try the office for house plans cause I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Robin shared a glance at him as the kids ran off. Neither had to speak to know they were both wondering if kids really were just looking for ways to die all the time and how neither of them had done that.

/\

The storm passed without any of the Party asking for comfort beyond radio confirmation everyone was okay and Steve now wished it was still going.

Gomez had declared after breakfast that it was time he got Steve acquainted with Zen Yogi and flipped into a headstand.

“That will hurt my flowers. Are there any other poses?” Steve asked, hand going to his hair and the sunflowers that he’d kept growing through the few experiments they’d done since the first one.

“Well, yes, but this is the most important one to master.” Gomez genially explained, somewhere he’d gotten a newspaper to read and had pulled a cigar out of his pocket, already lit somehow. “At least try it once. It’s wonderful for inner strength building.”

Eddie laughed, “Steve does need to work on his core muscles.”

“Nope, no more jokes like that.” Steve knelt, eyes narrowed as he worried over the flowers he was increasingly fond of. “If it damages my flowers, I’m stopping.”

He had done a few headstands before but not often so took a moment to get stable, during which Morticia clapped her hands together with a joyful noise, “Wonderful and if I may say, I’m thrilled to see such variety of plants growing. Ophelia always stayed so limited with daisies when there are much more delightful plants.”

Her warm tone had something in Steve relaxing, a worry they’d dislike or judge him over the flowers dissolving. “It’s become an experiment for the kids, testing what will grow. I’m pretty sure Dustin has theories over what should grow well in brains as well as what soil type my head it.”

“Gardeners?” Morticia sounded pleasantly surprised about the experiments. “Oh I wish I’d known. I’d have brought Cleopatra with us. She is a dear vine.”

“Maybe if you visit again you could bring her.” Steve decided not to question a plant being spoken about like a person. After all some of the ones growing on his head definitely felt like that to him now.

He came out of the headstand when the conversation seemed to have ended, immediately checking the hallway mirror to see if the plants and flowers were okay. Seeing they were he relaxed and moved to curl up between Robin and Eddie for the rest of the afternoon.

[lythpomme]

the downfall of steve harrington in s4

hi im back i forgot abt this acc. anyway i wanna rant about what the fuck the duffers turned steve into in season 4.

tl;dr - stancy doesnt make any sense, im genuinely upset it coming back is technically canon

~

literally what happened???? seasons 2 & 3 gave steve so much character development; he acknowledged that he was a terrible boyfriend towards nancy, and began to move on. then s4 fucked it all up and somehow he's in love with nancy still? like it frustrates me so much, sure nance is the one who got away but i dont think he really knew her.

ive seen a ton of people talk about this; if nance and steve were to get back together, she'd be running away from her dreams and becoming what she hated the most. her parents. jonathan is fully supportive of her aspirations to become a journalist, while i bet steve doesnt even know that shes interested in it so much.

lalala team jancy, team ronance... i just want what will be best for nance, or for everyone for that matter. BUT WE ALL HAVE ONE ENEMY: stancy.

there are just so many things WRONG with that ship. i am genuinely so frustrated that this shit is CANON. like im genuinely so upset over it...

the REAL nancy would not ever consider going back to steve. sure, with the strain her and jon have atm, she'd probably think abt it. but she's a smart girl! she knows why they didnt work out, i mean he hurt her!! completely disregarded her trauma!! even if thats in the past, their dreams are just way different!

they also dont KNOW EACH OTHER HELLO

RONANCE makes more fucking sense if the duffers wanted jancy gone. nancy being an independent woman works as well tho :3

ugh i just. its so disappointing. steve's character went completely backwards. i hate it so much.

~

i am open to others' opinions btw! pls reblog, or comment or whateva <3

[steviesbicrisis]

To me it’s the fact that Steve assumed Robin had a license but still woke up 3 hours before his work shift to drive her to school everyday.

That is not a plot hole everybody, that is just the kind of person Steve Harrington is.

[trensu]

Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants. 

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration. 

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

--

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

--

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

--

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me. 

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it. 

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond. 

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.” 

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood. He’d been warned from the time he was a child, back before the wolf, that it was home to its namesake. And not just any witch, a dangerous one. One that had killed an entire hunting party, unprompted, with the flick of a finger. None who have entered those woods since have ever returned.

Steve knows better than to enter the Witchwood, but he doesn’t have a choice. Robin is slumped over his back, hands clenched tightly in his fur, clinging desperately to consciousness. He can feel her blood, warm and sticky, matting the fur of his back. His own gait is slowed, every step jolting the silver teeth digging into his right hind leg and sending sharp pain shooting through him. He’s not sure how much longer he can run, and he can hear them - the bloodthirsty cries of the townsfolk dead set on his murder.

They had been found out. So many cycles of living in this town, living among its residents as a friend and neighbour, and still they’ve all turned on him. Of all the times for it to happen, too. It was the moon he had agreed to make Robin a wolf. She had already been weakened from the wolf taking hold when they had been attacked, the silver already a weakness but her body not yet given over to the strength of the wolf.

Steve wishes he could take her to Nancy, knows Nancy would help despite everything, but the townspeople have blocked them off, funneled him in his blind panic. His only hope is to lose them is the wood, but even then he might lose Robin to his own fumbling medical knowledge.

But first, he has to get away from their pursuers. Steeling himself with a deep breath, Steve enters the Witchwood.

————————————————————————

Eddie is no stranger to people trying to do him harm. It’s been a constant in his life from the time he was a child, long before his gifts had awakened. And one that had- well. It’s been a constant of his life, sure as the cycle of the moon and sun. So he notices the prickle of someone entering the woods, but he gives it no regard. It happens a few times a year, that someone gets it into their heads that they will be the one to kill “The Witch of the Woods”. None ever even make it to him, losing themselves in the enchanted trees.

These trees are older than him, and their magic is their own. They like him and welcome him among them, but otherwise are hostile to outsiders. In the beginning, he had tried to help those who became lost in the woods, but those days have long since passed. Despite what his uncle says about his soft heart, Eddie’s become bitter and jaded and he no longer pays any mind to those who venture into the woods.

But this time, something is different. Eddie feels the disturbance of someone crossing into the forest, feels the shift of magic as the forest warps around them, and it’s… different. The ways and paths of the trees are second nature to him, he can tell by the shimmer of magic against his skin which paths have been revealed and which hidden away and this…

The forest is being lenient, gentle. The interlopers are shown the ways to peaceful places, soft and danger-free. Eddie can recall only a few times that the forest has been kind to intruders, and it has almost exclusively been to children.

So he’s more than curious already when he feels the buzz of more people crossing the boundary into the woods. A lot more. And Eddie realizes that this hunt is not for him.

The trees are not so kind this time, opening its twists and turns like a maze, a trap for anyone foolish enough not to turn back immediately. They don’t, of course. They never do. Eddie pays them no mind, drawn instead by curiosity to the two that are being pursued.

He steps between the trees, slipping into a space that’s folded away between reality, picking his way with ease through paths that are there and paths that are not until he emerges at the edge of a small clearing, moonlit and mossy. Theres a tiny spring-fed pond and there, limping toward it, is a wolf. It’s huge, the size of a small bear, with a strong frame and thick russet fur.

It notices him at the same time as he notices it, and it’s massive head swings to face him, teeth already bared in a snarl. It’s hackles raise, and it turns fully, squaring up, a threatening growl rumbling across the little clearing to him.

Eddie steps back, already gathering his power until it glows around him with dark energy, because this is no normal wolf. Even without the size and the silver trap clamped around its leg giving it away, he can see it in its eyes, feel in its presence that this is something more.

He recalls his childhood, the warning tales at his mother’s knee. He remebers later, freshly chased out of town and taken in by his uncle, watching as the old man leafed through his ancient book and warned Eddie that he wasn’t the only dangerous thing in the wilds. Eddie has no doubt that he’s come across one of those dangerous things now. He looks at the wolf and knows exactly what he’s seeing.

A werewolf.

[1wooden-antlers1]

Starting with the miscellaneous lol (one-off playlists)

Bullet Train (2022) | Tangbug (2h6m)

Dead Poets Society (1989) | Nuwanda (16m)

Fight Club (1999) | Tyler Durden (35m)

Lair of the White Worm (1988) | James d'Ampton/Angus Flint (2h36m)

Merlin (2008–2012) | Gwaine/Lancelot du Lac (54m) [this one's just embarrassing lmao]

Mushi-Shi (2005–2014) (1h5m)

Scooby-Doo | Fred (22m)

Stranger Things (2016–) | Steddie (4h25m)

The Breakfast Club (1985) | The Athlete (11m)

The Magnificent Seven (2016) | Goodnight/Billy (2h48m)

The Sandman (2022–) | Hob/Morpheus (32m)

[flowercrowngods]

bard/knight snippet word vomit

“i have misstepped and trampled on your heart, and your life, and your… your pain so cruelly, my lord. steve.”

eddie falters, feeling the cold of the rain seep into his bones, but even the pouring stream is not enough to kill the fire within, this burning need for steve to know, the scalding sensation of those eyes trained so intensely on him.

“i have not the words to express the regret i am feeling, nor the guilt, at having wronged you so. i do not ask forgiveness, i— i can only hope that you believe me when i say that i am… deeply and endlessly sorry.“

eddie dares not ask for forgiveness. and he dares not hope to find it in lord harrington’s eyes that seem to soften just a fraction even as the rain intensifies and plasters the locks of his hair to his forehead. water drips from them to enticingly, all but inviting eddie to cradle his cheek so tenderly, and feel the wetness on his skin with a man who wandered deserts for weeks.

he dares not, not anymore. and yet the yearning in his heart still betrays him once more, making him want — for the real steve this time, not for the notion of grandeur and epic romance.

and it is more intense, thus, than the first time, leaving him with shaking hands and stuttering heart as the rain drenches them so thoroughly as though attempting to wash away their history and provide a fresh start.

and it grows in intensity when the lord swallows thickly before his eyes flicker down to eddie’s lips for just the fraction of a second. but it is a second that will cost him a lifetime, he knows, for eddie stops breathing now.

[hexiewrites]

me, earlier this week: i'm just gonna write a short little one shot, kind of a prequel thing, but mostly an excuse to write some more smut. short, sweet, nothing major!

me, 5k in with no end in sight, sweating buckets: there may have been a slight miscalculation here!!!

[loudsnapdragon]

it's a sex shop fic.

Buy Local: Steve Harrington's Guide to Modern Sexuality

steve/eddie. mature. 49,000 words, 5/5 chapters. background platonic stobin, nancy/jonathan, and robin/vickie. read on ao3 here, loudsnapdragon.

Amid the crotchless lingerie and silicone dildoes that litter the floor of Hawkins’ worst and best and only Adult Store, Steve undergoes a very short, and not very stressful sexuality crisis; Robin fails to lose her virginity; and Eddie refuses to admit why he doesn’t use Grindr. It’s not what Steve expected out of life, definitely not what Steve's dad expected out of his life either, but Steve’s not complaining, well, not until he ends up locked in the stockroom, with nothing more than a bag of genitalia-shaped candy, and a prudish Eddie Munson to keep him entertained, with their least favourite gun-carrying regular tearing apart the merchandise outside.

‘Co-captain’s log, the time is…’ Steve checks his watch. ‘4:47pm, the date is 06/10/23, we are currently locked-’

‘You cannot be serious.’

Steve snaps his head away from the security camera positioned in the high corner of the stock room, scowling at Eddie, who sits jaw-dropped, eyebrows set in a furious line, legs sprawled out on the floor, his elbows wresting on a cardboard box marked Penis-Enhancer 2000.

‘What else am I going to do? Dude, we just have to wait this out. I pressed the panic button. The police will be here soon. Might as well be productive.’

Outside the stock room, there’s a loud thump, a swooping noise, followed by the quiet woosh of air escaping an inflatable. Steve winces. Unlucky Doris.

Eddie pulls at his hair with both hands, his feet bouncing faster. ‘How is that being productive?’

‘It’s how me and Robin pass on notes, don’t be a dick. Just calm down and shut up.’ He turns back round to the camera. ‘It’s the sixth of October, and we are currently locked inside the stock room…’

There’s another bang from outside the stock room, the sound of Rodney’s muffled cursing, then a shelf falling over, a clattering of small boxes hitting the floor. Steve silently mourns his beautifully organised DVD displays.

Eddie clumsily jumps up onto his long legs, belt chains clanking on the cement floor, knocking over a box of skin rags in the process, starting to pace manically around Steve. ‘We’ve gotta do something! He has a gun.’

Steve shrugs from the floor. ‘It’s just Rodney.’

‘It’s just Rodney? How can you be so chill? He’s tearing your store apart!’

Steve rolls his eyes, giving up on his captain’s log. ‘Dude, this is like the third time this has happened to me. I don’t really care anymore. Ms. Scarlet has insurance, she’ll be fine.’

From the sounds of it, Doris will be the only casualty, which is a shame, Steve had grown quite fond of the inflatable sex doll.

read more under the cut.

Eddie stops his frantic circling around the six-foot square space. ‘This store has been robbed two times already?’

‘Oh, I dunno, probably, Ms. Scarlet seems prepared, but the other robberies weren’t here.’ Steve yanks Eddie down by the shins, because he just can’t deal with the unnecessary panic right now. ‘That was at Scoops.’

‘Who the fuck does a stick-up at an ice cream parlour?’ Eddie says, confused, which is good, maybe if he’s distracted, he’ll give up with the fretting. He settles beside Steve, leather pants tacky as he wraps his arms around his knees, feet still bouncing.

‘Two guys who massively overestimated the value of vanilla milkshakes.’ Steve says, planting a hand on Eddie’s thigh to stop it shaking, only resulting in Eddie striking it off with a scowl.

Steve laughs, ‘Oh, I forgot there was a robbery at Family Video too, but I wasn’t working that day. And there was this car chase at the drive through, same day that me and Robin got locked in overnight, but that was just the kids messing with us.’

Eddie skews his eyes. ‘Dustin?’

‘Nah, not him. Will and Mike.’

‘Will?’ Eddie asks, tilting his head, surprised. ‘I mean Mike, sure. But Will? I did not expect that for him.’

‘He’s a schemer when he wants to be. He got pissy when I refused to give them free milkshakes on their big date. He pickpocketed the building keys off Robin when she wasn’t paying attention.’

Eddie smiles, feet slowly stilling. ‘Good for him. The boy deserves some mischief.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ Steve scoffs. ‘We’d just finished a ten-hour shift. I was exhausted. Have you ever been forced to make an emergency bed out of hamburger buns? Have you?’

Eddie’s eyes glint in the stock room’s dim light, and he laughs as he fiddles with his hair, curled round his finger, long line of his neck white and gleaming; and Steve considers, not for the first time, there’s danger here, in the trapped box of a stockroom. They’re locked there, their phones lying dead and smashed behind the door, waiting until the police arrive as Steve’s least favourite regular throws a weaponised hissy fit outside.

‘Be honest, was that the worst place you’ve ever fallen asleep?’ Eddie asks, with a knowing lilt.

Steve sighs, smiles despite it. ‘Obviously not. The worst place was last night.’

‘Last night?’

‘Yeah. I swear, my Grindr date’s bed was stuffed full of rocks.’

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back, opens his mouth to speak, stops at the sound of a bullet pinging off the stock room door.

Steve turns to it, bolted from the inside. There’s another bang, a loud crash, then presumably what must be Rodney chuckling to himself.

Steve glances over at the screen with the different security camera views by the light switch, where all the store’s cameras are still very much covered in the silly string Rodney brought along, pink and orange lines dripping over the three of the four views, the fourth one just a grey-scale square in the corner, showing Steve and Eddie hauled up in the stockroom, looking like off-duty actors caught behind the scenes. 

Eddie starts biting his lip so hard it’s going bright red. ‘Fuck. Fuck. He has a gun! Steve, he has a gun!’

Steve pats his shoulder. ‘The door is like, titanium, or something. Ms. Scarlet says it’s bulletproof.’

‘Thank God.’ Eddie exhales, raises his hand to cover Steve’s, skin on skin, then a second later, blushes, and shakes it away. Steve can’t help but smirk.

‘This never happened upstairs, we’ve never had a robbery.’ 

‘Huh. I woulda’ thought a vape store would get tonnes of this shit.’

‘No.’ Eddie says, his legs practically hovering off the floor. ‘Not once. Never had it at the record store either.’

‘Was the record store your only other job?’ Steve asks, trying to find a conversation that will take Eddie’s mind of the madman outside. Probably rude to call Rodney a madman, like he’s an asshole, obviously, but it’s not his fault he has a couple screws loose.

‘Yeah, yeah. Only other legal job.’ Eddie says, unravelling his legs, almost relaxing. ‘Started working there at sixteen, stayed there four years. Then it closed, and… well… you know how my move to the city went after that. But shit man, I can still remember how bummed I was when Andy said he was going to sell the place.’

‘I get it, fucking pain in my ass when Family Video closed.’ Steve says, ‘And Scoops, and Benny’s, and Holloway Press, and Merrill’s farm, and the library, and…’

‘Christ.’ Eddie interrupts. He does that all the time. ‘How many jobs have you had? How did ya’ even get all them?’

Steve doesn’t try counting, he’d need his resume to know for sure. ‘Robin’s good at applications.’

Eddie snorts. ‘You get Robin to apply for all your jobs?’

‘Yeah. We’re a package team, she’s not going anywhere I can’t follow.’

‘Cute.’ Eddie rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his only-slightly shaky knee. ‘Soo how did you end up here? At this wonderful, titanium protected, sex emporium? She sent in an application for you both?’

Steve kicks out his legs and raises his eyebrows. The door remains shut, the barrage of Rodney’s destruction filtering through the cracks.

‘Actually, that was all me.’

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkins has always been a shit hole, but in the years following Steve and Robin’s consecutive high school graduations, it’s become an all-encompassing shit crater; a chasm devouring and destroying all hope for the few youths that remain in their backwash hometown. Every local store closing, most of the big businesses vacating, Family Video first, but hey, can’t blame them. Personally, Steve blames Netflix, streaming is killing the little guys, people just don’t appreciate a good DVD these days.

Benny’s drive through-was the saddest closure, but the man was just retiring early, couldn’t be assed competing with the McDonalds down the highway. Steve didn’t really give a shit when the newspaper stopped printing, other than losing out on that sweet dental insurance and his last pay cheque. Tom Holloway, the rat bastard, still owes him $558. But Nancy was real torn up, practically mourning the local paper, had a very detailed argument explaining why late-stage capitalism was murdering independent journalism, which Steve failed to keep up with, too busy trying to surreptitiously text Robin under the diner table, asking her if she had any luck with their application at Walmart.

Robin is forging an escape route, halfway done at the community college in the town over, but she’s still bunking with her parents, still pretending to be dating Steve to survive scrutinising questions at weekly family meals; saving up cash for the fancy, probably single sex dorm rooms at whatever stupid, liberal arts school on the East Coast she’ll eventually run away to. Yes, Steve is bitter about her plans to move away, but never enough to try to stop her. So, for now, they still spend their weekends together, driving the pot-holed roads and empty streets, past the burnt-out crisp of Starcourt mall and the bug infested corn fields, singing along to the cheesy local radio stations, and gossiping about all the other losers still clinging on to their hometown by their fingernails.

They’re both very experienced, very bored, and very, very desperate for cash; like most other twenty somethings stuck in the Midwest; and with the rent on the tiny apartment in Steve’s shabby complex only getting higher, and the scholarships Robin’s applying to only getting more competitive; their desperate job hunting driving around the edges of Hawkins eventually leads to the sign-less warehouses just past the town boundary, where the sidewalk stops, the windows are painted black, and the posters promise: a clean and confidential experience.

Robin slams the car door after jumping out the passenger seat. Steve scowls, and she huffs, before gently petting the door and cooing. He accepts this apology on his Beamer’s behalf with a tight-lipped nod.

She twitches her nose as she looks up and down the strip. ‘Steve, are you sure about this?’

‘Not really, but hey? Can’t do any harm.’

A literal tumbleweed rolls over their feet. A crow caws from its stoop on a rickety drainpipe. A barefoot woman in a massive trench coat stumbles out the back entrance of the farthest warehouse, lighting her cigarette, pushing away her silver wig to glare at them over a cloud of smoke.

‘I’m feeling like it could do some harm.’

‘We could do worse.’ He says, ‘Come on.’

[stevieboyscoffee]

WIP

“It is what it is,” Steve sighed, looking at the rejection letters from the different colleges he had applied to. It was his second time, after Robin had encouraged him to try again. He wasn’t surprised; Steve had learned to just accept the bad things that came his way. It was easier. It made it easier to accept the lectures from his father’s disapproval about his life choices. It made it easier to accept when Nancy didn’t love him. Made it easier to accept that he was just bullshit. Robin looked between him and the papers, up at his face with a worried brow, and back down to the papers. It felt like she was trying to will them to change into acceptance letters with just her stare.

“You’re not upset? I thought you wanted to go to college with me..” she sighed, her eyes finally softening with disappointment. She looked back up at him, setting on staring at his chest. She couldn’t meet his eyes. Robin had tried so hard to work with him on his applications. It looked like he was trying too, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe he wanted to work with his dad’s firm, and this was his way of letting her down easy.

Steve struggled to meet her eyes, “I did. I really did, Robs..” He hated how easy it was for everyone to go back to thinking so little of him. They thought the worst of him at the slightest inconvenience, after he gave himself up to help them save the world. Even Robin, who was his best friend, his platonic soulmate, would take any slightly “undermining” response and take it as bitchy disinterest. It was just another remind of how little he fit in with the rest of his found family.

Robin just shrugged, turning away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max hated it.

Today was different though. Eddie had finally graduated, and even with as young as Will was, he thought the boys owed him the role of the Game Master. Max didn't disagree. El had told her about the things Will had confided to his sister. Well, actually, he had told Jonathan, and El overheard Jonathan talking to Argyle about it. Will was upset, spending the entire summer trying to get his best friends to play one campaign with him, and all they could do was focus on their girlfriends. Will didn't even like girls. It felt like they had all found something that he exclusively couldn't do. Then he came back, months later, after defeating Vecna, only to find they'd joined an entire DnD club. It was like a stab to his heart.

But the point was, Will had no problem moving dates around the basketball games. So tonight was their last session before the summer. It was the end of their campaign. The finale. Max didn't know the exact term for it. She could see the boys panicking over their decision. Everyone was low on health. Their cleric had died, and everyone else as well. Mike was alone with the final boss. The older boys were arguing among themselves about what Mike should do. Meanwhile Steve had that look on his face. He sat in on a lot more of their campaigns than she did, if Dustin's word was anything to go by. It made sense. He was their ride home. Only until Lucas passed his driver's test in a few months. She figured he'd make this face when that happened too.

Will made his final role for the boss they were fighting. Mike had just rolled to hit, and his odds weren't looking great. The boys were all leaning over the table, watching intently. Dustin's scream was heard first. Max almost had to cover her ears. Even her scream wasn't as high as that. It wasn't a scream of triumph though. He was practically crying, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!" It was almost enough to make Max think something had gone genuinely wrong. She looked to Steve again, calm a solemn amid the chaos that had taken over. She knew he was about to say the thing. That dreaded sentence.

"It's alright boys. It is what it is," Steve sighed, looking tired and slightly confused. He may have sat in on more campaigns, but he only knew about as half as much about the game as Max did. Every one of the boys suddenly turned on him.

"How could you say that, Steve?!" Lucas yelled right at Steve's face. He had gotten taller, and was always the first to get sharp and mean when things went wrong. Steve's shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's not that big of a deal, Sinclair.." Steve tried to start off. He hated when they looked at him like this. Like he had laughed at them for crying over a dead dog. It was just a game.

"Not that big of a deal!?" all three boys cried in unison. Will was sitting smugly in his chair, satisfied with their displeasure. "This campaign took all year to complete, Steve!" Mike shouted. "I didn't get to finish my last campaign, remember!?" Lucas was upset. Steve could reason with his frustration. Steve didn't think Eddie had apologized nearly enough to make up for excluding Lucas because he liked sports.

[agirlwholovesrockstars]

OHHHHH I SEE IT NOWWWW I GET IT- I GET ITTTT WHILE READING THIS I WAS LIKE "wait- that's so bad but I like it" I AM OFFICIALLY DEMENTED- YES- NOW I WANTED TO BE CORRUPTED BY EDDIE MUNSON HIMSELF AND HOT DAMN ANGRY STEVE HARRINGTON- HOLY SHITTTTT!!!! ALL OF YOUR FICS ARE DEFINITELY WORTH THE WAIT BECAUSE WOW- I AM SEATED AS FUCKKKKK I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEXT PARTTTT- RACHAEL- I AM ALREADY INTO DARK SHITS- YOU JUST MADE ME MORE DARKER AFTER THIS OH MY GOD OKAY!!!! RACHAEL, YOU ALWAYS OUTDID YOURSELF!!!! I LOVE YOU 😩😩🫶🏻🫶🏻✨✨🩷🩷💯💯

CRUEL INTENTIONS - part one: genesis

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: steddie x innocent/shy!reader

summary: you're a new student at All Saints Catholic Academy and Steve and Eddie have every intention to sink their teeth into you.

contains: enemies to lovers between steddie, blasphemy/religious talk, drug and alcohol use, SMUT - 18+, fingering, mentions of smoking, corruption kink, blood kink, mentions of a knife kink, very mild violence, subtle bullying, NON-CON/DUB-CON, and steddie being pervs <3

word count: 7.1k

WARNING: this fic contains dark themes including - NON-CON/DUB-CON,  manipulation, coercion, and corruption. Again, THIS IS A DARK FIC, do not read it if you’re not comfortable with it!

| next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

PREFACE…

“Here at All Saints Academy, we aim to ensure staff will equip students with everything needed to succeed physically and spiritually.”

Your mother and father are beaming on each side of you as you nod to the lady’s words, smiling in agreement. Mom and Dad have been busy with business, and they were starting to get weary about how much time you spend home alone, so they enrolled you in the best catholic boarding school money could buy.

It’s a beautiful campus with big Romanesque architecture-styled buildings. The halls are vast and well-lit with high-hung candle chandeliers. You have yet to visit the dorms, but from the pictures, you were able to tell they’re nothing short of spectacular. You don’t have much to complain about other than the absence of your parents.

“Based on your records here, I can tell you’re a bright student,” She smiles at you, folding her hands atop her desk, “We’re so glad to have you here, young lady.”

You preen under her praise; cheeks warm when your mom proudly squeezes your knee as you thank her. There’s not much left that the lady goes over; she mostly just lets your parents know how and when it’s appropriate to call to check on you or visit— and before you know it, you’re hugging your parents goodbye and waving from the main buildings front steps as they drive off. You’re clutching the folder and pamphlet to your chest, nerves racing through your body now that you’re officially on your own.

A new chapter, and you couldn’t be more excited to start it.

Eddie’s late to his last class of the day.

He’s late, and he’s praying that he doesn’t reek of weed because he’s on his last strike with this teacher, and he really can’t afford to get another call back home. It’s Eddie’s luck that the classroom has a door in the back, so he’s able to slip in quietly.

And Eddie’s not exactly thinking when he slides into the nearest seat, but he thinks maybe the universe is rooting for him because next to him is the prettiest girl he thinks he’s ever seen.

You’re wide-eyed from shock, given Eddie’s just casually slid into the seat next to you, and Eddie cracks a pearly white grin. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he says with a slight undertone of sarcasm, “Is this seat taken?” Eddie asks.

You don’t even attempt to open your mouth in response; you just shake your head no, and Eddie’s grin widens. He holds a hand out for you to shake and introduces himself, “Eddie Munson. And you are?”

You’re shy, and your voice is sweet, but Eddie can hear you clearly as day when you say your name, gently shaking his hand with a visible blush dancing in your eyes. Eddie’s chest stirs when your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you shy away from his gaze. He smiles, caressing your warm knuckles as he responds, “Pretty name for an even prettier girl.” 

You smile, glancing at him with burning cheeks, “Thank you… I, um, I like your hair.”

Eddie laughs at that. He tries not to be too loud to draw any attention, but you’re the cutest thing, and you’re looking at his hair like you want to sit down and spend hours practicing different plait patterns. “Thank you,” he grins. Eddie’s eyes fall to your chest, and he snickers to himself before reaching forward, gently picking up the shiny pendants hanging from the silver chain on your neck. A cross and a purity ring. Fucking ace.

Eddie hums, twirling the purity ring between his fingers, “This is nice. Would you like to trade?”

Your face twists in confusion, “Trade?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you my hair for this cute little chain.” He gently tugs on the pendant, and you giggle. It’s a saccharine sound. Fucking beautiful, absolutely the best thing Eddie’s ever heard since his first listen to his first Metallica record, and Eddie thinks he could dedicate his life to pulling that sound from you. Thinks he wants to pull other noises from you too, ones that’ll make you preen with embarrassment and beg him to stop teasing— because your knees are brushing against Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie doesn’t even bother being slick about the way his gaze drops to your thighs, praying for your school skirt to ride up higher.

Eddie’s limbs have a mind of their own apparently, because his knuckles brush against your nylon-covered knee as you open your mouth to respond, but fucking Mrs. Lockwood steps up to you both with a clear of her throat. You jump, your hands settling in your lap as you turn to the teacher, “Munson. I didn’t see you walk in today; when did you arrive?”

You distract yourself with writing notes like a fucking scolded puppy, and Eddie almost ignores Mrs. Lockwood so he can just watch you in awe, but she clears her throat again, and Eddie shrugs, “Been here since the start of the period, miss.” Eddie responds.

Mrs. Lockwood hums with a tilt of her head, “I took attendance already, and you didn’t answer.”

Eddie shrugs again, glancing at you as you practically cower from the class's attention that’s now on you both, “I didn’t hear you say my name.”

And even though Mrs. Lockwood knows Eddie’s nothing but a bullshit liar, she also knows that Eddie can argue like he’s getting fucking paid for it, so— “Get your work done, please.”

And Eddie shoots a wink your way when the teacher turns away, but you’re too focused on your notebook, and Eddie thinks— Jesus Christ, he can’t wait to break you.

Classes end sooner than you know, and you find yourself in the dormitories. So far, you seem to like it here— the teachers are friendly, the workload isn’t too bad, and the students seem to keep mind to their studies— there was even one kid, Eddie, who made you feel nice and welcomed and you appreciated that more than you could express.

Still, even though your day was lovely, you’re exhausted from new faces and sceneries, and your eyes are begging for a moment to relax with a quick nap. With your mind so caught up on taking a nap, you forget to knock on the door to your dorm before you enter, twisting the doorknob and pushing the door wide open. 

You regret your mistake immediately.

“Oh my god!”

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry!” You turn and cover your eyes, shoulders tense as you spew out a slew of apologies to your roommate and the man she’d been busy with. How great! Your first day, and you’re already being a rude roommate. “I’m sorry, I should’ve knocked! I can just— I’ll just.” You move to blindly reach for the doorknob to make your exit, but your roommate speaks up before you can escape, “No! It’s fine, we— stop it— He was just leaving anyway.”

“I wasn’t actually—” “Steve.”

“Okay! Okay.”

You stay turned around with your back to the couple, embarrassment broiling in your veins as you try to ignore the rustling of clothes and sheets and their hushed whispers. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” The man— Steve, you gather— whispers. You hear a wet smooching noise and a grumble from the girl to, ‘stop being gross.’ and your cheeks burn. The man huffs out a laugh, and you only turn when you can feel his presence behind you since you’re blocking the doorway. He’s tall, broad shoulders with a handsome face, and brown eyes to match his fluffy brown hair. His lips spread into a smirk, eyes dancing across your face as he winks, reaching around you to grasp the door handle, “Keep an eye on this one for me, okay?”

You don’t mean to, but with the handsome man so close to you as he shuffles to move past you, warm body brushing against yours, you can’t help but blush as you nod. He huffs a small laugh before bidding his last farewell to your roommate and disappearing into the hallway. You’re unsure how he can easily slip in and out of the girl's dormitory, but you don’t ask when your roommate clears her throat, “Sorry about that.” She mumbles, “I’ll be sure to be more… mindful in the future.”

You nod with a welcoming smile, stepping further into the room as she rises to her feet and extends a hand for you to shake, “I’m Nancy, by the way.”

When Nancy asked you if you were busy tonight, you weren’t under the impression that the night's final destination would be a party. You surely weren’t under the impression that it would be as big as a party as this one— it’s something you’ve only seen in movies… well, only the few movies you’ve been allowed to watch.

It looked somewhat fun in the movies, but this? This was anything but fun. It was a mistake tagging along with Nancy tonight.

You’ve only just finished your first day at All Saints, and you’re already surrounding yourself with terrible things, things your parents have warned you time and time again to avoid— drugs, alcohol, sex, etc.

It’s everywhere: your classmates are drunk and cheering on as the rugby team chug beers, Tommy and Carol have been making out on the living room couch for nearly an hour, and Nancy— god, you don’t even know where she is, and you’re overwhelmed and scared, and you wish you had stayed in your dorm when Nancy asked what you were doing tonight.

You didn’t want to seem rude, and Nancy is so nice despite Carol evidently hating your guts, and you would hate to throw it back in her face. And sure, maybe she’s only being nice because you’re her roommate, but you still feel as if it’s a little obligatory to accept whatever plans she throws your way.

You’re still in your school uniform, making you feel out of place since everyone here seems to be straight out of a magazine, revealing dresses and neatly done hair. You’ve been glued to the living room wall since you arrived, too scared to do anything but blink and stare in shock. It’s when things start getting rowdy with the rugby team that you decide to peel yourself from the wall, desperate for some sense of reprieve from the absolute zoo you’ve been thrown into, but a body slides up beside you and catches your attention.

A handsome man, tall with dirty blond curly locks that dust across his broad shoulders. His eyes are dark with his gaze, but you can see the ice-cold blue peeking through when a light passes. “You’re too pretty to be hiding in the shadows, you know?”

It’s strong and direct and should make your nose scrunch up in distaste, but with the drawl of his voice and the way he’s leaning a solid hand onto the wall, it makes your cheeks warm. He drops the hand that had been on the wall and reaches out, offering a handshake, “Billy.” He introduces himself.

You only blink at him, glancing at his hand, and he chuckles, a dashing white smile flashing on his face. “Okay. Well, can I offer you a drink? Haven’t seen you with a cup all night.” He points out. You’re not sure why, but the comment makes your stomach twist. He raises a seemingly kind eyebrow, and you shake your head, shying away and pressing further against the wall, “I-I don’t really drink.” You respond.

Billy snickers, head tipping to the side with an unamused look, “Have you ever had a drink?” He questions. Your face warms at that, embarrassed by the truth when you shake your head, “No…” You mumble. The man laughs again, hearty and clean, before he shrugs. His other hand, the hand that’s been wrapped around a can, reaches out between you both, and his eyes glisten when he gazes at you, “Try some of mine?”

You quickly shake your head, curling your fingers into your palms, “No, thank you, I think I’m gonna—” “Come on. It’s not like I’m trying to poison you; just take a sip.”

And well… he’s right, right? He isn’t trying to poison you. He’s being kind, offering you his drink, and you’re being rude and acting like he just asked you to kill your childhood dog. Your shoulders drop, physically giving in as you reach forward, but Billy pulls the can away with a smirk. You’re confused as you gaze up at him, eyebrows furrowed when he steps closer.

He slinks his fingers beneath your chin, rough fingertips sending shivers up your spine as he roughly tells you to “Open up.”

You’re against the wall with nowhere to go, so you obey his orders, opening your mouth, eyes squeezed shut as you try to ignore his chuckles. Your nails are cutting into your skin at this point, stinging and sure to leave a mark as you await the drink on your tongue. You nearly choke when he pours the drink right onto your throat— no, you do choke. You fidget beneath him, wriggling and accidentally getting some of the drink on your chin, and Billy hums like he’s enjoying the sight. “Keep going, doll, you’re doing fuckin’ great.” He chuckles.

You whine, reaching up to press your hands against his chest as the drink threatens to overflow your mouth. But Billy doesn’t stop. He keeps going until the drink is spilling over the sides of your mouth, and you have no choice but to shove at him, choking on the bitter liquor as he chuckles— he’s so strong he doesn’t even budge. But then suddenly, someone is grabbing the boy and tearing him off of you with a loud curse. They’re arguing, that much you can tell, but your head is foggy as you try and catch your breath.

The front of your shirt is damp with the bitter-tasting drink, and you frown, angrily wiping at your mouth as you look at the two men arguing. “The fuck is your problem, man?” It’s Steve, Nancy’s boyfriend. You had all arrived together, but Steve and Nancy seemed to be in the middle of some quarrel, given the way they had immediately parted ways once they stepped into the party.

Your chest tightens, knowing he had come to practically save you, watching as he furiously shoves at the other boy. “Relax, Harrington, we’re just having fun,” Billy snickers before looking at you with a smirk, “Right, Cherry? We were having fun.” And it’s then that you catch the group of people across the room laughing and snickering from the scene you’d just caused. It was planned.

You catch Carol and Tommy giggling, and then you see Nancy locking eyes as she sends you an apologetic look. With a frown on your face and tears brewing in your eyes, you flee the scene, heart racing and embarrassment flooding your body and soul, ignoring Steve as he calls your name.

The kitchen is crowded but less than the living room, and you’re just glad to be in a well-lit room now with zero eyes on you and the promise of a glass of water somewhere.

You’re so caught up spiraling within yourself that you don’t even realize you’ve stopped right in front of your newest classmate friend— “I did not expect to see you here, lamb.”

You turn at the familiar voice, your body immediately relaxing when you meet the gaze of pretty brown eyes. You blink, tilting your head in confusion once you realize what Eddie called you, “Lamb?”

Eddie, perched up on the kitchen counter, taps the heel of his shoe against the wooden cabinet, “You’re cute like one. Lost, too.”

“I’m not lost,” you respond, shying away when Eddie raises an eyebrow, “M’just… overwhelmed. Never been to a party before, and that Billy guy is so… mean.” You frown.

Eddie hums, reaching out and gently tugging on your necklace. You’re not sure why, but Eddie seems to have a weird fascination with it. “Mm. What are you doing here? Little lamb like you should be at the dorms, studying or sleeping like a good girl, hm? Wouldn’t have run into Billy if you were being good.” He says. You frown at his words, guilt swirling in your chest from the reality that you definitely should not be here. Nothing good comes out of places like this; your parents had always warned you to avoid it, yet here you are. Your first night, and you’re already disobeying your parent's wishes.

“Uh, my roommate, Nancy, invited me.” You answer. Eddie’s eyes glimmer with something you can’t quite put your finger on, but before you can even ask, he’s sitting up straight and hopping down from the counter, “Notice you’ve got empty hands. Want a drink?”

You blink, subconsciously twirling your necklace between your fingers as you respond, “Um— a water, please?” Eddie’s lips twitch into a smile, and he nods, “One water coming right up.” He winks. You don’t know why, but the gesture makes your chest flutter. You're thankful that Eddie seems to have a kind heart.

Eddie disappears momentarily to get your water, but he’s quick about it and by your side in no time. Before you can thank him for grabbing you a drink, someone else is sliding into the frame with a gentle hand pressing to your lower back, a familiar soft yet deep voice filling your ears, “Hey, are you alright?”

Steve. You blink up at the boy, shying beneath his gaze in embarrassment from how he’d seen you not too long ago. “Uh, y-yeah. I’m okay.” You answer. Steve glares at Eddie, who’s silently watching as Steve reaches forward and takes the untouched cup of water from you. “Is he bothering you?” Steve doesn’t refer to Eddie by name, but you know he’s talking about the other boy. 

You immediately shake your head no, “No, I—” “Does it look like she’s having a bad time, Steve?”

The attention is now on Eddie as he calmly gazes at Steve, waiting for an answer. Steve’s eyes narrow, fingers subconsciously tightening around the red solo cup, “Fuck off, Munson. I know what you do to girls at these parties.” Steve says with a raise of the cup. You don’t know what Steve is talking about, but you don’t get a chance to ask because Eddie tilts his head with a grin and asks, “Yeah? What’s that?”

Steve grimaces, like Eddie’s the most repulsive thing he’s ever come across, and you frown, sad to see that your new friends seem to not be getting along. Steve places your cup of water on the kitchen island, “You’re fucking sick in the head. I won’t let you do your weird satanic bullshit on Nancy’s friend.”

Without a moment's pause, Eddie responds, crossing his arms over his chest with a tilt of his head, “Mm. Nancy’s friend or your eye candy?

And then Steve punches Eddie square in the jaw.

It happens quicker than you can comprehend, and you stand there like a deer in headlights when Tommy appears from nowhere to pull Steve off of Eddie. Eddie’s grinning, bloody, and tauntingly with a split lip, and Steve is glaring with clenched fists as Tommy backs him up to the other side of the room, mumbling stuff about Steve needing to keep his spot as captain on the rugby team— “He’s not worth it, man.”

Instinctively, as you see your new friend has gotten hurt, you step forward to assess the damage, frowning at the open wound as Steve calls out a harsh remark. You figure you should take Eddie somewhere that Steve isn’t, so you gently tug on him, but Eddie only chuckles at Steve’s words, stumbling in a daze as you drag him away from the scene.

You don’t know where you’re going, but Eddie seems to realize your intentions when you open the third door to an occupied bedroom, “Restrooms down there, lamb.” He gestures down the hallway. Surely enough, the last room in the hallway is the restroom, and when you step in with Eddie behind you, you’re too busy searching for a first aid kit to hear the undeniable click! of the lock to the door, sealing you to your fate.

Eddie, claiming he was tired of standing, made himself comfortable on the floor, ushering you down to join him with the dusty, old first aid kit you’d found. You don’t mind it, but having your knees scuffed up by the cold, hard ground of the restroom floor makes you squirm until Eddie hums, suppressing a wince when you dab an alcohol wipe at his split lip.

“What’s wrong, peach?” He asks.

You huff, shifting in your spot, “Floors hard.” You grumble, focused on your task. Eddie frowns then, and you shake your head quickly, “It’s okay th— oh!” To your surprise, Eddie’s hands are stern on your hips as they drag you forward onto his lap, making sure your thighs bracket his hips, alleviating the pressure from your knees.

It’s nerve-wracking being this close to Eddie; you’re practically inhaling him, and you can feel something hard forming against your thigh. You try your best to ignore the unfamiliar object as you dress Eddie’s wound. You clear your throat, “You and Steve know each other?” You ask.

Eddie hums, warm hands settling on your bare thighs, fingertips digging into your soft skin. “You could say that.” He responds. You frown, tossing the bloody wipes to the side once you finish cleaning his lip. “Eddie?”

“Hm?”

You fidget in your spot, and Eddie groans, but you’re unsure why. “What did… what was Steve talking about? About you with girls and parties?” You ask. Eddie’s eyes are sharp as he gazes at you, and you find yourself shying away from him, subconsciously reaching up to fiddle with your necklace. “He said you do weird… satanic things.” You whisper.

Eddie, ever the handsome man he is, cracks a grin that sends shivers down your spine. It’s alarming, and you find yourself squirming to create distance between you, but Eddie’s hands slink under your skirt, fingertips harshly digging into your skin to drag you back over his crotch. Your breath hitches, heart racing in your chest from the sudden proximity.

Eddie’s voice is a low drawl when he responds, “Does that scare you, lamb?”

You can barely look Eddie in the eye, your throat suddenly feeling tight as Eddie’s hands explore the skin of your thighs. You want to pull away; you can hardly stop yourself from glancing at the door, but Eddie’s gazing at you with this gaze— daring you to try.

You shake your head no, eyes burning with the threat of tears. “Sure about that?” Eddie asks. Eddie shifts below you, and your fingers curl into the palm of your hand, widely blinking at him as you nod. The rough pad of Eddie’s thumb drags across the waistband of your panties, and you whimper, dropping your hands to wrap around Eddie’s decorated wrists and weakly tugging.

“I think I should go, Eddie. N-Nancy’s probably looking for me.” It’s a poor excuse, and Eddie doesn’t even try to act like it isn’t when he quickly responds, “Nancy’s off sucking face with her boyfriend, lamb. I can guarantee you she’s not looking for you.”

Eddie’s sharp tone and mean words pull your lips into a frown, but Eddie doesn’t pay any mind as he leisurely teases his fingertips on the waistband of your panties, tilting his head with a menacing gaze, “It’s a sin to lie, sweet lamb.”

Your frown deepens, hips squirming when Eddie presses a thumb into the middle of your lower pelvis, “I didn’t—” Eddie cuts you off with a raise of his eyebrow, and you slump into yourself. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to lie, but…”

You gasp when Eddie hooks his thumb in the side of your panties, his other arm tightening around your waist when you shakily breathe and try to move away. “But you did. And now you owe me. Not only for saving you out there but also for lying to me.”

Your face twists in confusion, voice weak and small as you ask, “Saving me?”

Eddie doesn’t bother answering you, doesn’t bother saying anything really, because he takes the moment of your confusion to slip his thumb beneath the thin cotton between your thighs, swiftly seeking out the bundle of nerves between your lips. You jump with a squeal, pressing your palms into Eddie’s chest, “I, wait—” “Shh, shh, shh. I’m gonna make you feel good, baby.” Eddie hums.

You’re shaking in his hold, whimpering and fighting against him, but Eddie’s much stronger than you, so it’s useless trying to get out of his hold. “I wanna go home, Eddie.” You softly sob. Eddie hums, dragging you closer and nuzzling into your neck, his nose dusting across your chin and breathing in deep, “I’ll take you home, sweet lamb,” he lowly says, flicking your bud beneath his finger, “I’ll take you home right after this, yeah?”

You’re huffing in uneven breaths, on the precipice of sheer panic, but Eddie’s words hold a promise, and even if you’ve only known the man for less than a day, you somehow find yourself trusting his word. Brave through this, and Eddie will safely take you home. Right?

You sniffle, knuckles curling into Eddie’s shirt as he drags his thumb lower to your entrance. It’s slick there; it happens every now and then, this weird sensation that makes your insides curl. You’re not supposed to act on it; it’s just your body tempting you to sin, but the way Eddie dips into your hole and drags the sticky substance up to your tight nerves makes your toes curl, and your eyes roll.

“O-oh!” Your thighs quake, and Eddie grins against your skin, softly chuckling when your hips jolt into his touch. “That feel good? Has anyone ever touched you like this?” He asks, his voice seeping into your ear and down to your core. You whimper, knuckles prominent and aching from how hard you’re clenching a fist. You can’t even bring yourself to answer him, hardly shaking your head with a wet sob as he pinches the taut nerves.

Your head is spinning, lungs full with the smell of Eddie, mind whirling with his words, limbs weak with overwhelming sensation. “No?” Eddie muses, “No one’s ever touched this cute little pussy? Such a shame. You make the cutest noises when I fuck you like this.”

Eddie’s words are so lewd. So perverted and raunchy that it causes your entire body to burst into flames, subconsciously hiding your face in Eddie’s neck. Your fingers accidentally curl into the ends of Eddie’s hair, and he groans, chest vibrating against yours as he teases one finger in and out of your entrance. 

“I-I, Eddie, it feels…” “What? Feels good?”

You don’t want to say yes. Don’t want to admit that this sinful and greedy act is making your stomach twist and your body shake from pleasure you’ve never tasted before, but it does. You’re writhing in his arms, hips twitching into his palm while simultaneously trying to move away from him. “Come on, sweet lamb. You’re twitching around me, so I know you want it. Just give in.” He says. You shake your head, unwilling to admit it because, no, you didn’t want this… but it feels so good. It’s so wrong, and it feels good. Eddie grunts, humming at the slick sound coming from between your legs, and you keen forward in blissful white-hot pleasure, eyebrows furrowing when Eddie’s lips smear over the corner of your mouth.

The music and chatter of the party from outside drown out as Eddie mumbles into your skin, a gentle finger working in and out of you, teasing to sink all the way in. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never let the desire boil over a fleeting thought, always quick to turn to prayer, and you are, without a doubt, ashamed.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans, “You’re so fucking tight. Wonder how I’m gonna be able to fit my cock in this little pussy.” He speaks to himself as you loudly whimper, leaning into the immense build-up. His arm loosens from around you, and you take the opportunity to wriggle away from him, but he doesn’t let you go far. He’s making quick work to grasp onto your chin tightly, fingertips angrily digging into your cheek as he drags you forward, sharp gaze cutting across your face as he grits out, “I’ll just have to make it fit then, won’t I.”

It’s not a question, but you shake your head nonetheless, even if Eddie’s hold prevents you from doing so.

It’s when Eddie shoves the entire length of his finger into you that you topple over the edge, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your body tenses, face screwing up in pleasure. Eddie slants his lips over yours, tasting your cries and moaning into them, creating a harmony of nothing but sin. Your thighs shake, and Eddie’s finger is moving in tandem with the thumb he’s pressed to your clit, shoving you closer and closer to this immense sensation that has you sobbing out against his mouth.

You whine, squirming against his hold when his sharp teeth sink into your bottom lip, harsh and claiming. The taste of metal fills your mouth, spilling onto Eddie’s tongue when he laves it over the new wound. He parts from your mouth with a wet smack; lips tinted red with your blood as he gives his second bloody smile of the night. Between the throbbing and sore sensation in your core and the aching wound Eddie has now left on your lip, your body has been pushed to the limit.

Eddie smiles, reaching up to thumb at your split lip, eyes twinkling as he admires his work. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your damp cheek, gently licking the salty tears away with a hum before settling back to gaze at you in a fond manner.

He pinches your lip, grinning when your breath catches.

“Now we match.”

Eddie doesn’t usually go to mass.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to go (he doesn’t), but who the hell is waking up at six in the morning to sing a bunch of ancient hymnals and recite scriptures that he’s already read a million times before? Not Eddie. 

The thought of dragging himself out of bed, still half asleep and groggy, to sit through a seemingly endless series of hymns and recitations he’d heard countless times before was simply dreadful. It was a chore—a monotonous obligation that stifled his soul rather than nourishing it. You couldn’t pay Eddie enough to say one good thing about mass.

Well, that’s changed now that you’re here.

One good thing about mass? The pretty girl sitting three rows ahead of him.

Sunshine-dripping smiles and flouncy skirts. Strawberry and honey-scented winds when you walk by. Pretty, kind, and innocent bright-eyed you— the star of Eddie’s dreams— wet and tame. It’s been a day, and Eddie would crawl to the ends of the earth for a second between your thighs— except Eddie doesn’t need to do all that work because he’s practically got you in the palm of his hands.

You’re so fucking clueless, so easy to bend and mold into the shape of Eddie’s little fucktoy that Eddie honestly thinks this is the universe's gift to him for fucking him over all his life. And Eddie’s had his fair share of women. Back home, he fucked over half of Hawkins PTA moms, and he’s had a few of the prissy good-for-nothing girls here at All Saints doubled over his dorm bed and sobbing his name. He’s had a good run with a few of the rugby and soccer team members as well, sometimes takes a good fuck as payment for a bit of snow.

And Eddie’s into fucked up shit, okay. Likes the whole chains and whips scene, likes it when they cry, and aren’t sure whether to ask for more or less. He likes leaving his mark, whether it be with his teeth, his hands, or his pretty Darla— a pretty, wooden hunting knife that his old man gifted him before he got tossed in the pen. Eddie can’t hunt for shit, but he figures he’s still doing the blade justice, right? Carving his initials into his catches seems better, anyway.

And Eddie likes to break things just to fix them again. When he was younger, he would take apart the home phone down to the tiny nuts and bolts and put it back together, and he would do it over and over until he got bored and moved on to the toaster.

Technically, you aren’t any different from the home phone or the toaster.

Eddie wants to take you apart, piece by piece, and study your parts until he’s an expert in all things you. And then he wants to put you back together, leave out certain pieces, and replace them with his own until you’re nothing but a creation of his doing. He wants to make you believe in him like he’s a fucking god, like he’s everything, like you were nothing before him, and you’ll be nothing without him. He wants to ruin you for anybody else.

He wants you for him and only him.

You’re cute today. More timid and shy than you were yesterday, and you’re even cuter with your head bowed as you recite prayers and confessions of your own. You’ve got the school uniform on, just as everybody else, a pleated skirt with knee highs that Eddie can’t wait to feel brushing up against his ears as he fucks you into his shitty mattress. Eddie notices you have a habit of subconsciously tugging and twirling around the pendants on your necklace, and it somehow makes you cuter.

You’re battling something, Eddie can tell, with the way you’re practically choking yourself with the necklace and chewing on your lip, careful not to nick the scabbed over the wound that Eddie had left last night— so fucking cute. 

And then, Eddie realizes what had been worrying you when you stand up and make your way over to the short line where students line up to sit in a box and confess their lousy sins to some dipshit priest that could care less.

And Eddie thinks, oh, you’re just the sweetest thing he’s ever come across— confessing to sins that don’t exist. Asking for forgiveness that you won’t receive. You were made for Eddie to destroy, and he’s already fucking winning.

And as if it couldn’t get better— there’s Steve.

Steve Harrington— captain of the rugby team, grade-A asshole, and the one thing that Eddie could never get his hands on— is looking at Eddie like he wishes he would burst into flames on the fucking spot. Eddie’s seen an angry Steve— he’s a rugby player, for fucks sake— and Eddie can admit that this look, the angry glare he’s receiving from across the room, tops it all.

Steve has never liked Eddie, and he never will— he made that clear one too many times. He’s caught Eddie looking at him in class or watching him instead of the priest during sermons, but he made sure to let Eddie know he wants nothing to do with him because, ‘I’m not fucking gay, Munson.’ And that’s fine. Whatever. Eddie’s not wailing to the sky about how Steve Harrington doesn’t want to fuck him. But something about the look Steve’s giving Eddie— the absolute murderous glare that’s cutting stars into Eddie’s vision— makes Eddie think that maybe he’s got a chance.

Like, you ever hate someone so much you wanna fuck them? That’s how Steve’s looking at Eddie. Like Steve wants to make Eddie feel so good that Eddie loathes the fact that it’s Steve making him feel good. Like he wants to make Eddie see stars. Like he wants to make Eddie regret ever looking at you.

It’s cute. So fucking cute, you and Steve.

And Eddie realizes— yeah, I hit the fucking jackpot.

The day passes fairly quickly, and the athletic period arrives before Eddie can gauge it.

Eddie very rarely participates in afternoon sports. 

It’s not that Eddie doesn’t like sports— Wayne is a big baseball fan, so he knows quite a bit about the sport— but Eddie doesn’t have a single athletic bone in his body, so it’s more of a matter over mind thing, really.

Unfortunately, athletics is mandatory, and Eddie is on his righteous way to failing if he skips one more day, so he musters up the dignity he has left and forces himself to attend the class. The sun is annoyingly bright today, and there’s hardly a breeze, so Eddie’s sticky and sweaty by the end of warm-up— and Eddie was not planning on washing his hair tonight, but alas… eh, he probably won’t either way.

It’s halfway through the period when Eddie decides the coach doesn’t give a shit about him, and he can make an escape to the locker room. It’s been roughly a month since Eddie was last in this rancid-smelling room— two weeks if you count the drug deal he made with the soccer goalkeeper; he was short on cash, so Eddie settled for a blowie as payment, and although Baine swears to fuck all that he’s never sucked dick before, the hand to mouth coordination was a little bit too practiced for a rookie, so. 

Even if there’s a fresh, raunchy memory to associate with athletics, Eddie’s still got a scowl on his face when he walks out of the locker room. His skin is searing to the touch, hotter than a fucking oven, and Eddie hates being hot— there is nothing extraordinary about being a metalhead when the weather is twelve degrees above hell. He’s making a beeline for the showers, not even bothering to remove his shirt when he flips on the cold water and sticks his neck beneath the cool stream. It’s orgasmic, really, and Eddie thinks he could spend an eternity here if it didn't smell like dick and balls.

Eddie’s so caught up in the cooling sensation of water on his skin that he doesn’t even hear the locker room door open or the heavy footsteps of Steve Harrington. He fucking feels him, though, especially when the rugby player reaches around and switches off the shower head, sweat-slick skin rubbing against Eddie’s wet frame.

Eddie turns around then to look at Steve, raising an eyebrow at the deep scowl on the other boy's face. “What’d you do to her, you fucking asshole?”

Despite Steve glaring at Eddie with a look that would send anyone in their right mind running for the hills, Eddie can’t help but think him akin to a chipmunk. Cute with more anger than his little body can hold. “Not sure who you’re talking about, Harrington,” Eddie responds. Steve snarls like he’s a literal wolf and Eddie almost coos, “You know who I’m talking about, Munson.”

Eddie feigns confusion before snapping his fingers as if he’s come to a conclusion, “Oh! You mean your eye candy from last night—” Eddie can’t say more then because Steve is grasping him by the collar of his shirt and pressing him into the shower wall, anger flashing across his eyes as he glares at Eddie. “Watch your fucking mouth, Eddie—”

“Why?” Eddie presses with a glare, “You’re mad I got to her before you could? I gotta say, I owe you big time, Harrington.” He teases.

“Thanks for punching me in the fucking mouth.” Eddie shoves the boy off of him with a glare. “Really fucking hurt, by the way. But I mean, it sped up the process for me. You practically dropped her cute little ass in my lap.”

Steve steps closer, sharing a breath with Eddie as he grits out, “If one punch wasn’t enough for you to back off, I’ll gladly give you another.” He threatens. Cute.

Eddie chuckles, pushing Steve away again with a roll of his eyes. “Jesus. Loosen up, man, I didn’t fuck her… Not yet, anyway—” “Well, you can keep wishing.”

Eddie bellows out a deep, hearty laugh at that, head tossing back as he leans against the shower wall, “It’s funny you think you have a say, Stevie.”

With a glare on his face, Steve scoffs and turns to leave, but Eddie thinks now is the perfect time to give his proposal, if ever, right? So, despite Eddie’s pride, he calls out the other boy's name, stepping away from the shower wall when Steve turns back around with an annoyed expression.

“I’ll tell you what, Harrington,” Eddie says as he approaches Steve. “I’ll teach her.”

Steve’s face twists in confusion at that, glaring at Eddie as he responds, “Teach her?” 

Eddie nods with a grin tugging at his lips, “I’ll teach her. Get her nice and ready, even have her wrapped in a cute little bow for you— and when she’s ready, you can have her. I’ll even grant you the privilege of fucking her first.”

And Steve doesn’t seem to believe it, which, Eddie doesn’t blame him— it’s a great fucking deal. Steve shifts in his spot, body turning more towards Eddie as his eyes slightly narrow, “What’s in it for you?”

Eddie scoffs out a laugh, flashing a pearly white grin that seems to make the other boy's face flush with a cute light tinge of pink, “Everything, man. I get to break her in,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s the best part.”

And whether or not Steve thinks Eddie is completely insane, whether he believes in those satanic ritual rumors or not, or if he believes Eddie’s some ridiculously demented man, it doesn’t stop Steve from wanting in. Eddie can read Steve from a mile away, and nothing about Steve’s demeanor right now says he’s not interested.

“...Fine— but if I find out you fucked her—” Before Steve can finish the threat, Eddie’s holding his hands up in surrender. “Cross my heart, hope to die, Harrington. She’ll be perfectly trained and fresh for you.” Eddie winks. Steve grimaces at that, shaking his head as he begins to turn around and walk away with a mumble of, “Fuckin’ perv.”

And Eddie can only grin to himself as he watches the boy leave, knowing that not only is Eddie gonna have the time of his life turning you into his personal fucktoy, but he will also 100% turn Steve Harrington into his bitch.

a/n: HIIIII, oh god here we go, another series hehe. again, thank u so much to my bae @munsonlore for brainstorming this fic w me and helping me along the way. i hope u enjoy what we have planned for these three ;)

thank u for reading, ily always!!

freaky lil cutie taglist: @gnrquinn @otterpop13 @sirensleepingsoundly @hugdealer @poppyseed018 @your-nightmaredoll @daysinthephoenix @chaiflvrd @daisy-munson @amira0303 @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @peaches-roses-sins @ohmeg @tellmealovestory @munsonsbtch @freak-of-hawkins @darknesseddiem @urdadsnewgiirlfriend

[hairmetal666]

Steve has done interviews before. Like, a lot of interviews. YouTube, podcasts, print, TV stuff. Not as a brag, or anything, just. He's been an influencer for a long time, for better or worse, and it's part of the deal.

Usually, he's comfortable in front of the camera. Usually, he's poised and well-spoken. But today, this time, sweat pools under his arms and beads along his hairline, the lights beating down on him in a harsh glare.

"Steve Harrington," Murray Bauman crosses his legs, smiles big for the cameras. "It's been a while."

He smiles too, tries to seem like he's not about to have a panic attack. "I've been a little busy."

Murray laughs and it's then that Steve understands how screwed he really is. Murray's show, it's all glitz and glamour on the surface; mixed drinks and hijinks until the celebrity guests lose their inhibitions, admitting things they probably wanted to keep secret.

It's just that, before, Steve didn't have any salacious rumors to worry about, and now--

"You've had a rough year, Steve, yeah?"

"Not my best, for sure." He leans back, tries to seem calm, unbothered.

"I was sorry to hear about your divorce. I think that announcement really took a lot of people by surprise."

His hands clench, but he manages not to shift or bounce his leg. "Thanks for, uh. Yeah. We were also sorry it didn't work out."

Murray nods, face full of sympathy. "You and Nancy, you'd been together since high school? That's almost--what? 15 years?"

"It's--" he clears his throat. "About that long." Steve takes a sip of the drink next to him, an apple martini that's both too sweet and too strong.

"Am I right to assume that you didn't see it coming?"

And isn't that a question? Sure, now in hindsight, he can see the fractures that lead to the end, but six months ago did he--it's all so--what if all along--

"All marriages have rough patches," is what he says. "We just couldn't come out of ours as a couple."

"Do you know what I've found really remarkable about this phase of your life? The content and tone of your videos in the midst of the maelstrom of rumors and gossip didn't change at all. 'Your kids' as you call them, are still as bright and vibrant as ever. You're laughing, dancing, cooking, having a great time."

"I needed that--that normalcy you know? And the kids, they're such an important part of my life, having them around helped."

"Including Nancy's brother, Mike?"

Steve laughs and it's not fake. "Totally including Mike. My relationship with Nancy has nothing to do with my relationship with him."

"He's kind of an antagonist--would you say?--in your videos, though."

"We have conflict sometimes, but it's never serious. We know how to play it up for laughs."

"So, nothing's changed between you?"

"Not at all."

"The cheating rumors." Murray's smile is soft, but all the air still leaves the room.

"What about them?" It's more combative than he means, but--

"Did Nancy cheat on you with Jonathan Byers?"

He swallows and it hurts. She did cheat, is the thing. It's not public information, still only speculation, but--

"You can't believe everything you read, Murray."

"So, she didn't cheat?" There's a glow to Murray's eyes that tells Steve he already knows the answer.

"Like, I said before, marriages are hard. We spent a lot of time apart because of our jobs. It took a toll."

"And she was traveling with Jonathan, yes? He's been her photographer for the past decade, from what I understand."

"They were co-workers, but we're all close. And those rumors didn't help our relationship, for sure. It's--not easy to hear that a bunch of people think your wife and close friend may be having an affair, that people 'ship' them. Even when it's not true, it creates--"

"Tension? Distrust?"

"Both, probably." He takes another drink as he nods. "After a while you do start to wonder if there's truth to it, and you're too ignorant or too--too trusting to see it."

"And it eroded the relationship."

"It certainly didn't help." He takes another drink.

"And how about your relationship with Jonathan's brother, Will. Has that been impacted?"

"Of course not. Never. Whatever happens between Nancy, Jonathan, and I, it has nothing to do with the kids. They know that.

"You talked about it."

"Yes. Extensively."

"I know there's often speculation on the relationship you have with them; if you're really close or it's all for the cameras."

"Murray." He leans forward. "We've talked about this before. I met Dustin through Mike, and the whole group followed. I've known them all since they were 8 years old. They're--I mean, not to be cliche, but they're my family." He sips the last bit of martini.

"And where does Eddie Munson fit into that family?"

The question shouldn't be a surprise, but he almost does a spit take, has to fight to keep it together.

"Eddie?"

"Yes." Murray's smile is chilling. "Your close friend Eddie Munson. Musician. Plays Dungeons and Dragons on YouTube. You made out with him in a music video. Ringing any bells?"

"I'm familiar with Eddie," his grin is rigid. "I don't know what that has to do with my marriage ending."

"Well, the rumors weren't all about Nancy, were they?"

"Eddie and I have--we became mutuals online years and years ago. I used one of his songs in a video and the kids are obsessed with his dnd stuff, so. We've become close."

"Friends?"

"Isn't that implied?"

"After that music video, I don't think so."

Steve rolls his eyes, lets the irritation show for the first time. "He asked me to be in his video. There's nothing scandalous about it."

"What's your relationship with Eddie right now?"

"Like I said, friends."

"Do you want it to be more than that?"

"Eddie's really important to me."

"Is that all?"

"Not really sure what you want me to say here, Murray."

"You were married to a woman for years, but now there are questions about your sexuality."

He grits his teeth. "My sexuality isn't anyone's business aside my own. People can say shit on Twitter all they want, that doesn't mean they know me. But--the end of my marriage--it definitely gave me the space for self-discovery, I guess? In a way I hadn't had before."

"And is Eddie a part of that self-discovery?"

"Yeah, as one of my closest friends, he is."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"That's--that's not--I'm going through a divorce. My focus isn't on starting another relationship right now."

"You, famously, tattooed your initials on the inside of his thigh during an Instagram live. That's pretty intimate."

"We were just having a little fun."

"Huh. That seems like more than 'a little fun' to me. So, how's Eddie doing with the increased attention?"

It takes Steve a second to track the change of subject, mind still stuck on the tattoo, on how the ink had looked on Eddie's pale skin.

"It's hard." Steve eventually answers. "Of course he enjoys bringing his music and dnd to a wider audience, but the focus on his personal life is--it's a lot."

"Well, he should have thought about before letting you tattoo him for your 850,000 followers. Does he want a relationship with you?"

His throat is dry, burning, he wishes he had more martini. He wishes he'd never taken a sip. "You'd have to ask him. I'm just taking it day by day, you know? That's what I need right now."

"We're getting to the end of our time, but you know I have to ask. Your best friend, Robin Buckley, she very famously unfollowed both Nancy and Jonathan on all social media when news broke about your divorce. Can you tell us why she unfollowed them?"

"I have no control over Robin's accounts. I didn't even know she followed Jonathan ever, and she and Nancy have a relationship outside of me, you know? I can't say what happened between them."

"She's been in your videos with Eddie. She like him?"

"Very much. It's kind of annoying actually. They keep ganging up on me."

"Much to everyone's delight, I'm sure. So, what can we expect from the newly single Steve Harrington?"

"There are a couple things in the works, but only time will tell."

---

He walks through his front door an hour later, and Eddie's sitting on the couch, playing a soft melody on an acoustic guitar. He stops when he sees Steve, setting the guitar aside, and standing.

"How'd it go, baby?" He asks. His soft smile is so beautiful, Steve gets a lump in his throat.

"As expected." He crosses the space between them, lets Eddie pull him close.

"He ask about us?" Eddie's breath tickles his ear.

"Of course."

"And you--"

"I want--it should be just for us. We should be able to announce when we're ready. Not when Murray-fucking-Bauman asks."

Eddie kisses him, then, sweet and slow, making him lose his breath.

"Whenever you're ready, I'll be right by your side."

"You sure? All my mess--"

"Is mine too. Afraid you're stuck with me for the long haul, Steve Harrington."

[taintedcigs]

can’t stop thinking about firefighter steve x chief’s daughter and it’s your fault </3333

— switched

firefighter!steve harrington x reader.

CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP... I AM SORRY!!!... also ignore my lazy caption i cant find anything better woops... warnings: MINORS DNI!!! just filthy piv smut, maybe a bit of mean!steve, some dirty talk and DUH switch!steve and switch!reader bc i can't help myself. </3 wc: 1.1k+

But seriously imagine Steve with Captain's daughter... you meet him when your dad takes you down to the station, and of course, Steve charming Harrington lays (or at least tries to) the moves on you the SECOND he meets you, and sure enough, captain WARNS him to stay away from you.

Not realizing forbidden fruit is much more juicy when it's prohibited. and it quickly turns into a dirty little secret.

So casual and fun, the sneaking around, the hidden dates, having sex wherever and whenever you can, and of course, having sex while the others are busy and he's not, and now you convince him to have sex in one of the trucks.

Lodged in one of the backseats, you're on top of him, his uniform folded to his ankles, he looks good with it, but much better out of it.

With slow movements, you tease him, milking him for his worth, hips rolling so skillfully that all he can do is mutter out a few "F-fuck!"'s and a whole lot of "S-shit.... mhmm... jus' like that, honey."

You're perfect, but your teasing is straight-up torturous. "Baby," he whispers, lips grazing over your ear, pathetically and heaving, just needing more of you, even though you're sure he can't go in any deeper.

"We have to be quick." It's almost like a warning, he doesn't want to get caught, and neither do you, but it's so much fun with the risks, with the what-ifs, with the sneaking around and the secrets.

You pull back from his neck with a hearty giggle, the smile adorning your face is sweet and deadly, picking up your pace just slightly, bouncing up and down his veiny cock, feeling him stretch you open, nice and wide.

And as much as you want to pretend that it doesn't have any effect on you, it does. He's big, so big that you can almost feel him splitting you open, feeling him throbbing, can imagine his pink tip going red, tired of all the teasing, but you're nowhere near done. "Oh, do we?"

You throw him another sultry look and at this point, you can barely see his pupils, gaze overblown by desire, the tight hold he has on your hips is almost bruising, marking you, heavy breathing all over your already marked up neck. you know he's going to explode soon. "I don't think you get to decide that, Steve."

Another smirk thrown his way, "What happened, Stevie? gonna cum?" you ask, voice filled with desire, hips grinding against his thighs, every movement is met with his loud moans.

Not even bothering to stifle it.

It's like he wants everyone to know that you're his.

"You're evil," he groans, it's much less pathetic, almost sinful coming out from his salmon-pink lips, the tip of his cock hitting spots inside of you that you didn't know existed.

And you try, so hard, to play it cool, like grinding down on his huge cock is not making you want to scream out.

Like his thick thighs that you are sitting on and heavy balls that are slapping against your sweetest spots aren't making you squirm, like you're not about to whine and beg for him to make you cum.

And, shit, you know he can tell, by the way his big hands grab your hips, guiding you roughly, a bruising hold that makes you let out a mewl, yet, you still hope he doesn't notice.

But he does.

"You love it, don't you? Love me having all the control and being all mean to you?" Your last attempt to have all the control and you fail.

Because his padded thumb rubs circles against your clit, and your voice cracks, turning you into a mewling mess.

He can feel you slipping over the control, it's all so quick, one more move from him and he knows you'll be putty in his hands, begging to have his cock stuffed inside you forever.

Just the thought of that makes him want to spend his load inside of you, a half-smirk is quick to form its place on his freckled cheeks. "That's funny," he grunts, realizing that your movements are slowing down, allowing him to finally drive his cock into you slowly, regaining some sort of control, intently watching the way your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head.

"W-what is?" You try to hum confidently, attempting to mask your submissiveness, but it's too fucking late, and that infamous smirk grows on his cheeks, spreading all over.

He chuckles, the sound bellowing from his stomach, it's downright pornographic, making your pussy flutter in more ways than one.

His movements pick up, fucking into you with short but rough thrusts, filling you all the way in.

"That you think you even have an ounce of control, sweetheart," he growls into your ear, making you moan with need, the room filled with slapping noises, heavy balls hitting against your clit.

All so stimulating.

"I let you have it, and I can take it away just as quick, hmm?" He barely gives you any time to adjust to his words, abusing his cock inside of your soppy pussy, making you gasp as your gaze glistens with tears.

He's just so fucking good.

And you're perfect like this.

"S-steve!" You yelp, driving him more and more to the brink of insanity, hands grabbing any globe of skin he can find, teeth sinking into it, while his cock hits inside of that sweet spongey spot that makes you sing.

You have that fucked out look on your face, plushy lips slightly apart, hair disheveled and brows knitted, Steve wants nothing more than to fuck your drooly lips next, and fill each of your filthy holes with his cum.

"God, I love it much more when you go all cock drunk on me like this.... Can't even form a coherent thought when I'm poundin' into you, can you, honey?" The name sounds sickly sweet rolling off his lips, but in the dirtiest way, and all you can do is nod meekly, grabbing onto his shoulders for some sort of support.

He hums contently, watching the way his cock disappears in and out of you, covered in your juices, perfect fucking sight.

"Singing like an angel the second i have you bouncin' on my cock, that's right, sweetheart, love it so much more when all that's coming out of those pretty little lips are those whines," he whispers in the shell of your ear, mouth running more and more the closer he gets, and his gaze darkens.

"Now be a good girl and take my cock, yea?"

[himbosandhardwear]

It's a stupid fucking scheme, and he never would've gone along with it if he was sober, but she really didn't give him much time to contemplate it, she just shoved him into the pantry and yelled for Eddie to come into the kitchen.

Now he's got his head pressed against the slats while Rob asks Eddie if he thinks Steve is cute. Like they're in the fifth grade.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, clearly confused and put on the spot.

“C'mon,” she coaxes, “you can tell me, gay to lesbian solidarity.”

That's terrible, using that to weasel the information out of him.

“I mean…sure, I guess he's alright,” Eddie admits. “He's not really my type though.”

Oh.

Well…that's…fine.

“Seriously?” Rob asks like she doesn't believe him. “You don't think he's hot?”

“I wouldn't kick him out of bed for eating crackers, but, yeah, seriously. Not my thing. He's too…I don't know, high maintenance or something. I like my guys a little more, like, dingy.”

Steve nods to himself in understanding. He should've seen that coming but he hadn't. It's sobering.

Robin isn't finished arguing her case, the beautiful idiot. “Steve's dingy!” She yells, making Eddie laugh. “He is! He's plenty dingy! And he has other fine qualities! Like, uh, loyalty! And being helpful!”

“Are you trying to set me up with your painfully straight best friend or a golden retriever?”

“Steve's not-”

“Okay!” Steve shouts, bursting out of the pantry, yes he understands the irony, with both hands waving. “This was fun but let's wrap it up.”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed, but it quickly melts into anger. “What the fuck, Buckley? What kind of weird, pointless ambush is this?”

“It wasn't pointless, you fucking troglodyte. If you were paying attention-”

“Rob.” Steve didn't mean for his voice to do that but it has the intended effect. She clamps her mouth shut and pouts. “Sorry,” he says to both of them. To Eddie, “Seriously, it was a stupid idea. We're both drunk and being stupid, just forget this happened.”

Unfortunately, it doesn't look as though Eddie is going to forget any time soon. In fact, it's more like he's studying them both for clues, the wheels turning despite the whiskey and weed gumming them up.

Steve's about to turn tail and run when the lightbulb goes off. Eddie doesn't look like he believes the conclusion he's come to but he's figured it out nonetheless. “Wait. No. Seriously? No way.”

His eyeballs are aching. He pushes against them, causing starbursts behind the eyelids. “Can we please not do this?” He begs.

Eddie sputters. “If this is me finding out you're queer, Steve Harrington, then yes, we most certainly are!” He looks at Robin but she's stonewalling him in solidarity.

The fact that neither of them has said anything to the contrary is damning enough. Steve might as well have ‘bisexual’ tattooed across his forehead.

“Holy shit.” Eddie snatches Robin by the wrist, she tries to wrestle her way out but he's jangling her about like a rag doll. “Holy shit! You were trying to set us up! Holy shit!”

“Let go, asshole! You ruined it, remember?”

He does let her go, so he can stare at Steve in horror. “No! Fuck! Steve, I was bullshitting! I was lying my ass off, I swear!” He tries to round the corner of the island but Steve moves to keep it between them, unsure of this sudden development. Eddie stops when it's clear Steve isn't reciprocating.

They stare at each other until Robin breaks the awkward silence. “Prove it.”

Eddie shakes off the cobwebs. “Huh? I mean, how? I wasn't exactly doodling Mr Edward Harrington into my journals.”

She crosses her arms. “Then I guess we're done here.”

Steve doesn't point out that she's not actually in charge of this situation because it seems to motivate Eddie into action. He gives them the ‘one moment’ finger and then dashes outside.

“You believe him?” She mumbles.

“I don't know. At this point I'd probably settle for him looking to turn me into a bedpost notch.”

“Have some self-respect.”

“Nah.”

Eddie comes back, dragging Jeff by the arm.

“Tell him!” He shouts, finger pointed at Steve.

“Tell him what?”

“The thing that shall not be spoken.”

Jeff raises one eyebrow. “How am I supposed to-”

“Oh my god, just tell him.”

“No.”

Eddie blanches. “No? What do you mean, no?”

“You made me swear.”

“So?! I'm unswearing you! This is important! I need you to unfuck this situation, pronto! You can give him all the gory details, I don't give a fuck, just tell him!”

A gleam sparkles in Jeff's eye. “Every gory detail?”

Now Eddie, correctly wary, hesitates, glancing at Steve nervously. “Well, maybe not all-”

Jeff interrupts Eddie, turning fully toward Steve with, “Eddie is bananas in love with you. Probably has been since school, but it's gotten so much worse since this spring. I'd say seventy five percent of the songs he's written are about you. He's also got a fully fleshed out fantasy life involving you, including, but not limited to, five adopted Vietnamese kids, two cats and a dog.” He turns back to Eddie. “Can I go back outside now? Those hotdogs aren't going to eat themselves.”

Eddie, eyes closed, waves him away.

Before he's fully out of the kitchen, he turns and says, “Oh, also he has a VHS copy of one of your swim meets. Bought it off of some AV kid for sixty bucks.”

Steve's stomach, already roiling with excited nerves, erupts in butterflies.

Eddie does not notice this, head buried under crossed arms on the island.

“I think we've swung too far in the other direction,” Rob points out, oblivious to Steve's excitement. When she finally does notice, it's met with rolled eyes. “Of course you're into that. Absolute freaks, the both of you. You know what? Good. Take each other off the market. My job here is done.”

She hops off the stool and leaves them alone.

Eddie cautiously pokes his head up, sees Steve smiling at him and jolts up straight like a prairie dog. “You believe me?”

He wants to toy with him for a minute, a touch of revenge for the dismissal he made earlier. “What swim meet was it?” He asks, like a test.

Without missing a beat, Eddie answers, “March of ‘85. You beat some kid from West Jefferson by four seconds.”

Steve preens. Eddie isn't bullshitting, he really did beat that kid from West Jeff. Only someone who gave a shit to pay attention would know that off hand. The whiskey makes another appearance in his bloodstream, giving him the courage to lean over the counter, into Eddie's space.

“So…you like me?”

Eddie has this incredibly endearing habit of hiding behind his hair when he’s nervous, it takes Steve out at the knees every time he sees it. “I'm gonna be really pissed off if this is some convoluted prank but…yeah, man, I fucking like you. Romantically. In case that was in question.”

“Mmm,” Steve agrees. “What are our kids' names?”

Eddie closes his eyes against Steve's smug stare. “I hate Jeff so much.”

“I don't. I'll thank him at our wedding. Maybe we name one of the kids after him.”

When Eddie peeks at him, one eyed, Steve does his best to convey his amusement and fondness both.

His body goes lax, finally, at seeing Steve take all it seriously. “Okay, so I like the idea of all of them keeping their Vietnamese names, except one who we name James.”

“After Hetfield?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes. Please.”

Some time later, after making out in the pantry for a while, Steve vetoes James, but only because he doesn't want the poor kid to grow up with a complex.

“We’ll call the dog Jimmy.”

“Cool.”