#the harrington hive

[djostateofmind]

I just want you guys to come hang out with me in The Harrington Hive and talk about Joe Keery with me 😭

[rogueddie]

Eddie trying repeatedly to make a move on Steve, sometimes chickening out himself but often the kids or Robin interrupting, and he grows increasingly frustrated.

Only for Steve to be the one who gets too impatient and finally snaps at the kids to "get out so Eddie can finally fucking kiss me, I've waited long enough and I'm not letting you brats ruin my chances again!"

Mike bluescreens, 404 error page not found

[berenwrites]

Connections - Stranger Things - Steddie

Connections: Voice from the Other World

A/N : For @steddie-week day 3. So, when I started this one, I was going for First Kiss, but then it became a bit more serious and ended up Discover instead. Thank for stopping by.

Prompt: Discover / First kiss / Kiss On My List by Hall and Oates

Summary: Steve hears Eddie voice in his head. At first he thinks it’s guilt, but that soon changes. Now all he needs to figure out is if it’s one of Vecna’s games or something else.

Also on AO3

When Steve first heard Eddie’s voice in his head, he thought he was processing his guilt of having to leave Eddie behind. Afterall, Eddie was dead and if he’d been a bit faster, or objected to the plan, maybe Eddie would still have been alive.

The second time he knew it couldn’t be just guilt. It felt too real, too like the real Eddie. Vecna took his victims into himself, that’s what he had heard as the others talked about it. He went to El.

“Okay, Steve,” El said, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him, “just close your eyes and relax. I’ll do the rest.”

He nodded before following her instructions. Relaxing was kind of hard, what with everyone sitting around staring at him, but he did his best. It was weird, but he felt something shift before a hand touched his arm. Opening his eyes automatically he realised he was no longer in Hopper’s cabin’s living room. Instead, he seemed to be standing in his own backyard.

“What?” he asked, looking around.

That was when he spotted the trees in part of the forest. They were gnarled and twisted like the Upside Down.

“It is okay, Steve,” El’s calm voice grabbed his attention before he could panic.

“What’s happening?” he asked, focusing on her.

“We are in your mind,” El told him.

“Why is there a patch of Upside Down in my mind?” he asked, eyes flicking back to the starkly different part of the landscape.

“I do not know,” were not the words he wanted to hear, “but we will find out,” El assured him. “Can you hear Eddie?”

That helped him centre his thoughts at least. Taking a deep breath, he made himself calm down and listen.

“Steve.”

The echo-like call came to him over what felt like a long distance. However, it filled him with dread as he turned towards it and found himself looking right at the patch of forest he did not want to face.

“It’s coming from in there,” he said, almost sure this was not going to be good. “Did you hear it?”

El shook her head.

“I think I heard something, but it was not clear,” she told him. “You will have to lead the way.”

Without any preamble, she slipped her hand into his. Pushing away his fear, Steve gave her fingers a squeeze before they set out. The first thing he noticed when they reached the weird trees was the fact there were no vines. It gave him a little hope.

He had no idea how long they walked. Time didn’t seem to make much sense with the sun moving in the sky almost randomly. It was disconcerting knowing it was his own mind and he didn’t seem to be able to keep things straight.

“Is it always like this?” he asked, because he needed something to do other than thinking.

“I have mostly been inside other people’s memories when inside other minds,” El told him perfectly openly. “When I find people, I am in the Void, so outside their thoughts. I was in Henry’s mind like this when I piggybacked using Max, but it was not like this. I do not think everyone’s minds work in the same way.”

Steve’s first thought was thank god he wasn’t like Vecna, but he chose not to voice that out loud.

“Steve!”

Eddie’s voice echoed around him, louder now they were in the fake Upside Down.

“He called you again,” El said.

“You heard it?” he asked, looking round at her.

“No,” she replied, “not clearly.”

“Is it Vecna?” he asked.

They stopped for a moment as El’s brow crinkled in thought.

“I sense otherness,” she said eventually, “but it is not him.”

“Do you know what it might be?” was his next question.

She gave him a small, apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I do not,” she said, “but we will find out.”

Trusting himself to her knowledge, he led them off once more in the direction he felt they should be going. For a little while the trees thickened, almost blocking their way except for a single path. It was dim as the branches blocked out a lot of the sun, until they stepped into a brightly (well at least for the Upside Down) lit clearing. The area was a barren mound. And right in the centre stood a familiar figure.

Eddie looked exactly as he had done the last time Steve saw him: leather jacket, vest, bandana, ripped jeans, boots. Steve could even see the holes and blood stains the bats had caused in the clothing. But Eddie was facing away, so Steve couldn’t see the other man’s face.

Looking to El, he did his best to ask what he should do without saying it out loud. She touched her mouth and pointed to him then Eddie. Doing his best to forget about the fizz of nerves in his stomach, that wasn’t even really there because they were in his head, and now he was deflecting, he opened his mouth.

“Eddie,” he said, a little louder than his normal speaking voice.

What he didn’t expect was Eddie to spin round so fast he almost lost his footing. Large, scared eyes stared at him as if Eddie didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Steve?” Eddie said, arm winding around himself like protection. “Is it really you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, unable to tear his eyes away from the seemingly healed wounds on Eddie’s face and neck.

They looked far older than his own, which were still wrapped under gauze to make sure he didn’t reopen them.

“We thought you were dead,” he added.

“Think I was,” Eddie replied. “He brought me back, wanted to use me to get to the rest of you. A game to give him time to heal. I woke up downtown with him. I think he’s using the fissures to collect energy or something, but nothing big can get through them yet. He had to send me to one of the four gates to cross over, but his control slipped. The closer I got to a gate, the more I could feel you, not him.”

“Hello, Eddie,” El said from beside Steve.

“Um, hi,” Eddie said, clearly unsure.

“This is El,” Steve introduced.

“Oh, supergirl,” Eddie said.

“She got her powers back,” Steve told him, hoping El would forgive him for underselling all she had been through.

“Do you know where you are physically, Eddie?” El asked.

“Near the water gate,” he replied. “He made the bats attack me when he realised he wasn’t controlling me anymore, but some of them turned on the others and protected me. Couldn’t get through though. We’re hiding.”

“You and the bats?” Steve asked, kind of shocked.

Eddie nodded.

“Can feel them too,” Eddie admitted. “Primitive little bastards, but loyal.”

When Eddie mentioned it, something stirred in the back of Steve’s skull. It was faint, but he couldn’t ignore it.

“I think I can feel them,” he said and looked at El.

El’s brow crinkled in concentration for a few moments before she nodded as if something made sense.

“You are connected,” she said, stepping towards Eddie and, hence, forcing Steve along too, “like the hive mind,” he went cold, “but different. Eddie, do you know where we are right now?”

Eddie shook his head.

“I only know that when I call for Steve I come here,” he replied.

“We are in Steve’s mind,” El told him without preamble. “Please reach out your hand.”

Eddie’s eyes flicked between Steve and El, wide with anxiety, but he finally pulled one of his hands from beneath his other arm and held it out.

“Steve, please take Eddie’s hand,” El requested, polite but insistent.

When she let go of him, Steve felt bereft, but he wasn’t about to stop listening to her now. Sharing a nervous glance with Eddie, he did as he was asked. The moment his fingers touched Eddie’s all hell broke loose in his brain. His surroundings flashed like a movie edit, showing him somewhere else, somewhere darker and more sheltered. The animalistic sense in the back of his brain solidified into something real. Distantly something else was yelling in fury. But most of all there was Eddie.

He could smell Eddie, he could feel Eddie, and he was swamped by him. For a little while he felt like he was Eddie, or rather he and Eddie were one being. It was terrifying and wonderful at the same time. Luckily for his sanity the two visions of his surroundings stopped swapping and superimposed themselves over each other, and he came back to being just himself kneeling on floor.

He wasn’t alone on his knees either. Eddie was collapsed beside him, and they were leaning against each other vaguely holding each other up.

“Holy fucking Christ,” Eddie said.

“That about covers it,” he agreed.

“What did we just do?” Eddie asked, not making a move to put any distance between himself and Steve.

“You have solidified the link between you,” El said with a calm certainty Steve really wished he could possess too.

“And we wanted to do that why?” Eddie asked.

“Because it is much stronger than the hold Henry had on you,” El said, “and now you should be able to move away from the gate without him controlling you.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie said, “you’re a genius.”

El gave him a small smile for that.

“We must go now,” El said, much to Steve’s shock. “Stay hidden and safe. We will contact you when we have a plan.”

It was even more shocking when Eddie simply nodded to that.

“Don’t take too long,” was all he said.

“We won’t,” Steve assured him.

There was no way Steve was leaving Eddie in the Upside Down any longer than he had to. At least Eddie wasn’t alone, and that was such a weird thought it set him in motion, so he had something else to think about.

“See you soon,” he said, looking directly into Eddie’s eyes.

“Wake up now,” El said and it was like flipping a switch.

Steve blinked open his eyes to find himself once again sitting on the floor in Hopper’s cabin.

“Well?” Dustin asked, because of course it was Dustin who demanded answers.

“Eddie’s alive,” Steve said and couldn’t help the little fizz of joy as Dustin whooped and threw his arms around him.

“We must speed up the plan,” El said looking up at Hopper. “Eddie says Henry is drawing energy from the fissures. We must attack him before he has a chance to regain his strength.”

“And we are sure we can trust Eddie, why?” Hopper asked. “How do we know he’s not one of Creel’s creations?”

“He was,” Steve replied, “but he broke free. We’re connected now.”

“Bat bites?” Dustin asked.

Steve shrugged; it was the most logical option.

“Probably,” he said, “and he has some of the bats protecting him now too.”

“Bet Vecna is pissed,” Robin said from her position on the couch.

“Something was definitely angry when we solidified the bond,” Steve agreed.

“You did what?” Joyce asked, sounding horrified.

“It was the only way to prevent Henry from taking over Eddie again,” El said simply. “Now, we must plan.”

Steve had no idea what came next, but for the first time in days he felt like they were moving in the right direction. Eddie was alive. Vecna was weakened. They had a chance. It was more than he had hoped. That he had the feeling of Eddie and the animalistic demobats in the back of his brain was disconcerting, but he’d take it over the alternative any day.

When this was all over, he was taking Eddie back to his house where he could look after him, make sure he was safe, and they could wait out clearing his name in peace. They had really only known each other a few days, but after the mind-meld, and Steve was pretty sure he’d picked up that term from Eddie’s brain, it was a whole different story. It wasn’t as if he suddenly knew everything about Eddie, he was pretty sure that would have driven him crazy, but he felt like he had seen the essence of the intense young man.

It had ignited a hunger in Steve for more. He wanted Eddie to be his friend. He wanted Eddie to be more than his friend. And he was pretty sure he would have something of a freak out to Robin about that at some point. There was no denying it, however.

First, though, they had a madman to take down. For good this time.

The End

Find my other steddie fanfic listed here in my pinned post.

[scoops-aboy86]

What would’ve happened if Steve had been at the trailer with Dustin instead of Eddie, and they left him behind for dead, but months after the Upside Down is closed Eddie starts having crazy dreams and ends up clawing his way through the wall between realities to find THIS waiting for him.

I have no explanation for this one

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Summary: Eddie considers his feelings and the chances he needs to take.

Warnings: Language, & alludes to smut.

A/N: Just a little something, cause’ I missed him.

“You know,” it’s said through a pause, wisp of smoke sizzling between milky whites, before it’s continued, “I love having time with you.”

You give one short snort, tilting yourself towards the man to your right. Shaking your head, you deadpan. “Well, considering we’ve been doing it for almost a year now, I would hope so.”

A picture of perfection in your eyes, is what you see. He’s on his stomach, curly hair in disarray, sweat glistening through his curls from previous activities. With a cigarette in one hand, the other splayed palm flat on his notebook he’d been scribbling in. He’s still naked to match you, a feast that you allow yourself to indulge in. His scars from death’s door two years ago, they remain, but blend with his ink - old and new.

Eddie Munson is watching you look at him, something he will never be used to experiencing. You make him feel like he’s the creator of the universe and you’d happily accept any fate he’d give you, what treasures he shall bestow upon you. It’s not just that you’re the only one that’s made him feel this way, it’s that it is you. And within the past year, all mind blowing sex aside - he’s fallen ass her elbow for you. Love for a Munson, that’s scarier than a thousand hive minds and a bat bite death all over.

If he lets you in, if you break his heart, Eddie doesn’t think he’ll survive this. But dammit, he craves to try. Do you feel this weird thing too? Or is it just sex? He’ll take fights, tears - every single bit of it just to have you. He hears Henderson and Harrington’s voices in his head.

Don’t waste anymore time.

Look what almost happened.

Dude, she’s been waiting for something for a long time, I think that something is you.

You’re as lost in him as he is in you, the dips in his hipbones that trail into the swell of his ass. Finding your regained solace back into the beckoning of his chocolate eyes. Big and wondrous, guiding you into seeing the world in new ways - you’re toe over tit for him.

Eddie swallows, stubbing out his cigarette as he coughs on a smoke wrapped confession. He levels with you, pinching your fingers into his own. He’s looking down when you push the curls from his face, patient and more beautiful than any princess Eddie’s imagination can ever create. You’re real, you’re here. He smiles softly, toothily, thumb finding your wrist bone to stroke.

You’re almost sure that he can feel your racing pulse point. He catches your attention once more with his words. “Not… Sweetheart, it’s not just the sex. As much as you blow my mind and my back out…” You both share a grin at the trail off.

You break in, noticing how over stimulated his confession is making him. You understand, you match. You take a deep breath and unfold. “I love having time with you too, Eddie.”

[loveinhawkins]

Steve’s bat bites start to bleed again during the drive out of The War Zone.

It’s a slow realisation, a creeping dampness on his skin.

He stays as still as he can, keeps his movements small and contained when turning the steering wheel; he thinks he mostly gets away with it, manages to park the RV and pitch his voice on just the right side of normal as he tells the kids to scram.

Awareness of his surroundings grows a little fuzzy around the edges, but he senses enough to know that he’s alone—the silence feels heavy, makes his ears ring.

He lifts himself up out of his seat, one hand clinging onto the headrest for balance. The ringing gets sharper, more high-pitched; he shakes his head to try and clear it.

One step forward, then another, and another.

There’s a slight rocking motion under his feet. It feels a little like he’s in a boat that’s docked, constant movement even in the gentlest of waters.

His palms brush against the bathroom door.

“Okay,” Steve whispers to himself.

He hangs onto the sink to keep himself upright—feels the room sway, as if the waters underneath have suddenly become stormy.

With one hand, he finds the knot in the bandage.

“Okay, okay…”

Pulls.

Steve doesn’t think he blacks out, not quite, but there’s a shift, a dizzying tilt… and then, somehow, he’s sitting on the closed toilet seat.

And…

The bat bites must cause hallucinations or something.

Otherwise, Steve cannot explain why Eddie—who notoriously threw up and passed out during a dissection in Biology—is currently pressing a clean bandage against his stomach, staring down at the blood like he can’t look away.

“You’re good, you’re good,” Eddie’s saying.

He’s clearly trying to sound calm, but it’s just coming out strained, like what he really means is this is all a fucking nightmare actually, but we’ve gotta find something to be optimistic about.

“Think it just needs some more pressure,” he goes on. “Yeah, there, see? It’s stopping. Oh, thank God.”

Steve feels more gauze getting wrapped around his middle—if he wasn’t injured, it’d almost be a nice sensation, Eddie’s touch somehow the perfect mix of both firm and gentle.

As he works, Eddie hums nervously.

“Talk to me Harrington,” he says in a shaky sing-song. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging, man, gimme some awkward small talk. Got any hopes? Dreams? Anything I should know?

Oh, so many things, Steve thinks, still light-headed.

But then he really does mull that over: his mind goes to The Upside Down, to belatedly telling Eddie about the hive mind, and oh shit.

“Hey, weird question,” Steve says, “but I’ve not been, like, asking you to make it cold in here or, um, anything like that?”

Eddie blinks. “Uh. No?”

“Okay.” Before he lets the relief of hearing Eddie’s answer sink in, Steve adds, “If I ever do, you need to lock me in here and get out. Tell Nancy.”

Eddie’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head. “Sure. Cool. Cool! Uh, for any particular reason or—?”

“Just in case—like, I don’t feel any different, but—one time, Will Byers, when he was in The Upside Down it, like, infected him? Like a virus. Except more… possession. And they had to kinda… burn it outta him.”

“Ha,” Eddie says. A beat. “Oh fuck, you’re serious.”

“I really don’t have the energy to be messing with you, dude.”

“Sorry. Sometimes you all just say things, y’know? And if I don’t get it, I’m like, well, they’ve been living through this for a while, maybe they’ve got a code going on.”

“I mean,” Steve says, “we kinda do.”

Eddie shakes his head. “So when Buckley said she dealt with a human-flesh-based monster, and the one before that was smoke-related, that wasn’t just, like, a really fucked up metaphor?” Eddie’s eyes are wide, pleading. “Please say it was a metaphor.”

“Sorry,” Steve says sincerely.

Eddie sighs through a lacklustre chuckle. “You’re fine, Steve. As for, uh, being possessed, I don’t think so. You’re no weirder than usual, but—”

“Wow, thanks. Means such a lot coming from you.”

“—you were a bit, like, out of it for a few seconds, but it just looked like you were gonna faint on me. Um. How’re you feeling now?”

“Good,” Steve says. When Eddie raises an eyebrow, he tacks on, “As good as I can be, I guess. Still.” He groans slightly as he stands, goes back over to the sink. “Better check.”

“Check? What?”

Steve runs the water as hot as it will possibly go, until the steam is evident. He sticks his hand right into the stream, hears Eddie hiss as the water scalds his skin.

“Okay, yup. Not possessed.”

“Fucking fantastic. Now I want it cold,” Eddie says.

He takes control of the faucet, nods for Steve to put his hand under the now cold water.

After a minute or two, Eddie sighs and collapses onto the toilet seat himself.

There’s a squeak as Steve turns the faucet off—his skin’s probably not had the good of the cold water for nearly long enough, but it’ll do.

Eddie’s tipped his head back so he’s facing the ceiling, eyes closed. Steve watches him with sympathy; he really must hate blood.

“Eddie. You can go.”

“Mm, nope,” Eddie says without opening his eyes. “I’m fine right here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Steve turns back to the sink, frowns at the tiny mirror above it; there’s black spots on the glass, but he can make out enough. Christ, the bags under his eyes are horrific.

“Relax, Casanova,” Eddie says, almost as if he’s heard Steve’s thoughts. “You look good.”

“Uh-huh. Think your brain’s fried from being on the run.”

Steve leans against the sink with one hip, finds Eddie looking at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, probably. Or maybe being on the run just suits you.” Eddie’s eyes flicker down. His smile falters. “You know, in an ideal world,” he says conversationally, “you’d be in a hospital getting stitches.”

Steve scoffs. “In an ideal world, I’d be in bed sleeping.”

“Amen to that,” Eddie says lightly. But he still looks sombre. “Seriously, though. If it gets… you know. I’d drive you.”

“To the hospital? What are you gonna do, Eddie, wander up to the front desk? Sounds like a real interesting way to get arrested.”

But Eddie doesn’t leap at the chance to make a joke.

“Steve,” he says softly. “I mean it. I wouldn’t care.”

“That would sorta ruin the whole priority of hiding you.”

“That’s—” Eddie huffs. “That’s not the priority.”

“Huh, that’s funny, cause it is in my book.” Steve nods at the door, to his whole world just outside. “One of many.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “And your name better be right at the top, Harrington.”

Steve hums.

“In bold. Underlined.”

“Whatever you say.”

Eddie groans quietly, runs a hand down his face. “You worry me, man.”

“I’m not trying to.”

“I know. Just…” Eddie hesitates. “Don’t go off alone. You know?”

Steve thinks it over. He steps forward and offers Eddie his hand.

Eddie takes it.

When Steve pulls him up, he stumbles a little, as if he feels like he’s on a boat, too.

“Oops, sorry.” He grabs onto Steve’s forearm for balance. “Think this should be the other way round, man.”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.”

Steve leads the way out of the bathroom—doesn’t mention the fact that, really, they’re both holding each other up.

There’s a bottle of water left in the back. Steve twists the cap off. Drinks.

“You too,” he tells Eddie.

“Huh?”

Steve considers him—thinks of the little flare of panic he felt when watching Eddie walk through the woods, tiptoeing around vines. How he had a sudden instinct to catch up to him, to make sure he wasn’t alone.

“I’m making a deal,” Steve says. “I won’t go off alone if you don’t.”

He lifts the bottle up as if making a toast—drinks again then passes it over to Eddie.

For the slightest of moments, their fingers brush; Eddie’s rings skim over Steve’s knuckles.

“So what’s this?” Eddie asks. “Legally binding magical water?”

Steve shrugs. “Cool metaphor,” he replies.

You say you just turn heel and run, Eddie. But sometimes I think if there was a fire, you’d run towards the flames if it meant no-one else got hurt.

Eddie smiles. Tilts the bottle towards Steve.

“Guess it’s a promise, then,” he says.

He drinks.

Steve prays that it holds.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

⋆⁺₊❅ mistletoe mayhem

Steve Harrington x Reader 

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: My third contribution to @littlexdeaths The Twelve Days of Promptmas is best described as ‘meddling and mistletoe’

Content: Sneaking around and secret relationships. Yearning! Flirting! Ghosts of sexy-time past. Supportive but annoying friends! Loverboy Steve Harrington. 

✨ bang average festive fics ✨ Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨ 

Sylvia Harrington loved Christmas. 

She loved the bright gold lights, regal red baubles and gifts wrapped in shiny paper topped elegant bows. She loved playing hostess at the Annual Harrington Christmas Soiree, when her dress always matched her husband’s tie and her son’s sweater. She loved the spectacle of it all, the champagne and the meticulously put-together canapes. She loved the praise for her perfection.

Every year, their house in Loch Nora had the best decorations in the neighbourhood - she would wager the best in town - with a huge tree on the front lawn, adorned with bright lights and a shiny star the same hue as her favourite champagne. Sylvia Harrington loved her golden life, her successful husband and her gorgeous golden son. 

But the very thought of coloured Christmas lights and non-matching tree ornaments made her stomach churn. Chintzy, tacky decor gave her hives. 

Steve had always been in awe of them, the way multi-coloured string lights danced and popped in the dark winter light. He liked how the colours blurred behind his eyes when he gazed out the car window. When Steve was eight his father called him ungrateful for asking if they could get coloured lights that year, snapping unfairly at his son before Sylvia could let him down gently. He quickly learned not to bother asking again.

Tonight, the Harrington house is an explosion of colour, and while Steve misses his Mom - he hopes that she is enjoying her shiny gold Christmas in New York - he would much rather be here, watching Max and El wrap tinsel around their scrunchies and hang bright baubles from their ears like earrings, listening to Mike bitching that this was slave labour, that Steve could decorate his own damn tree.

He would much rather be here, watching how the colourful lights shine on you as you perfect the garland running along the mantlepiece. How you throw your head back at something Lucas said, your laugh melding into the cacophony of noise and Chrismas cheer.

“Oooh, mistletoe!”

Robin’s voice cuts through his dreamy daze, louder than teens laughing and squabbling and the Christmas music drifting from the speakers. She holds a sprig aloft over her head and shares a grin with Vickie, whose cheeks heat up beneath her rosy blush. 

“Who brought mistletoe?” Dustin asks, looking up from where he has been methodically planning the most efficient use of the extension chords and outlets. 

Shrugs and shaking heads ripple around the room. No one owns up to it. It’s not like Vickie’s aunt owns a florist that she works in at the weekends. Everyone seems to have conveniently forgotten that, even Vickie herself. 

Steve catches your eye and smiles a little before you turn back to the garland, adding one more silver bauble before backing up a few steps with your hands on your hips.

“Is it too much?” you ask, seeking out Steve’s opinion.  It’s his house after all, and although he has given his friends free reign it is only fair he should have his say now that he is the man of the house. 

The garland is a little lopsided and homely, far from the primped-to-perfection monstrosity his mother would insist on.

“I love it,” he says, smiling. He joins you by the fireplace to take in the masterpiece. “You’re a natural.”

Your cheeks heat up as you feel the warmth of his body next to yours. 

Behind your backs, your friends share secret smiles. The plan had spread quickly and quietly before they arrived, weeks of planning how to get you and Steve together. All you two needed was a little push, right? It was going to be a cakewalk. (Max had full-on screamed into a pillow when Dustin called it a ‘Christmas Cakewalk’ with that shit-eating grin of his).

“Let’s hang some,” Lucas says, taking a sprig from Robin. “Max, wanna help me?”

The couple (back together after their post-Thanksgiving fight) peel away from the group with mischievous smiles, partly because of their genius plan and the rest because it’s a perfect excuse to make out a little bit in Steve’s big house. 

“I’m going to hang some over your mirror so you can kiss your reflection without shame,” Robin teases, messing up Steve’s hair as he goes back to placing mismatched ornaments on the tree. 

As everyone returns to their tasks, you catch Steve’s eye again and share another little smile. 

Within the hour, the decorating has been completed, with the addition of the mystery mistletoe strategically placed around the house. Friendly kisses have already been exchanged - Dustin kissed Vickie’s hand in the most gentlemanly way, and Steve earned himself a wet smacker on the cheek from Eddie when he arrived just as the hard work was done. 

Everyone has drawn a name for your Secret Santa gift exchange, another get-together in Steve’s house on the day before Christmas Eve. There have not been many obvious swaps, but a few whispered “who did you get?’s”

There is far too much pizza, and laughter rings throughout the cozy house. Steve looks around, sees his friends bathed in colourful light, and feels the joy that had been missing from all of those other Christmases. The big empty house is no more, lived in and adorned with reminders of each of his friends even when they are not there; character sheets and forgotten dice, scrunchies and sweaters and guitar picks. Robin has all but made one of the guest rooms her second home.

He thinks about how his mother’s eye would twitch at the explosion of colour, the noise and chaos that comes with The Party. Steve loves it. He thinks of how she would plaster on a smile and pretend it’s fine, and play hostess with the mostest while gritting her teeth so hard that her teeth might crumble.

He does not let himself think of his father’s barely contained hatred of it all, or how he would hurl insults at his idiot son and his degenerate friends. Richard Harrington was worse than the Grinch, who at least had the capacity for love in his heart. Steve was not about to let the memory of him ruin tonight. 

“Hey.” 

Steve smiles when feels the warm press of your arm against his. 

“Hey yourself.” 

Your voices are loud enough for each other, squished side by side on the sofa with your friends crowded on either side and on armchairs and the floor. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask.

Steve looks fond, still a little far away. “Just thinking. It looks good, huh?”

You look around the room with your own enamoured smile before looking back at Steve, the lights reflected in his cocoa-coloured eyes. “It looks like Christmas threw up. I love it.” 

“I love it too.”

You hear your friends quieten just enough so they can try to eavesdrop on your quiet exchange, and you both smirk. They’re not as slick as they think. 

“I’m getting a drink. You want anything?” you ask him.

His eyes sparkle with recognition before he says, “Yeah. I’ll come with.”

There are a few calls for extra sodas and more pizza, and even more furtive whispers as you leave the room.

“He likes her, it’s so fucking obvious!”

“Mike, shut up!” Erica hisses. 

And Robin hisses, “Max, did you put any mistletoe in there?”

You both manage to hold your laughter until you reach the safety of the kitchen, down the hall and out of sight. Your shoulders shake silently as you try to hold it back and not make a noise. 

“These fucking kids!”

“I know,” you giggle, warm-cheeked, “It’s kinda sweet.”

Steve double-checks that the coast is clear before taking your face in his hands to kiss you like he has been wanting to all evening. 

You need not be goaded by a plant to kiss Steve Harrington.

Beyond the taste of pizza and soda, the kiss is a sweet relief. It is a lungful of fresh air after holding your breath beneath water. It’s a blissful sip of a cool drink after a day in the sun, or hot chocolate after sledging. It’s perfect. All those hours without each other, since you left his bed this morning to help your Mom with groceries and gift wrapping, since you stepped back into his house with Nancy’s arm in yours in your cute skirt and sweater, have been absolute torture.

Your hands settle on his ribs, almost creasing the forest-green knit with your grip, and you smile against each other’s mouths. 

“One more,” he begs, whispering, “One more.” One more is never ever enough. 

You squeeze his trim waist and bless him with another kiss, much less frantic than that first one. His tongue against yours makes your body zing; you are hooked on him and finally, you have got your fix.

“Fuck, I missed you,” you whisper, fighting back the urge to nip his jaw and run your tongue along the barely there stubble. The urge to mark him above the collar and let the secret slip.

“I missed you more.”

Steve’s thumbs brush your cheeks, marvelling at you like the most precious treasure before you both prise yourselves apart with bone-deep reluctance.  

“I think you’re going to need to kiss my cheek or something to shut them up,” you say, piling pizza on paper plates for the teens—Margarita for Dustin, Hawaiian for El, and Pepperoni for Eddie and Max. You take another slice for yourself to keep your mouth busy, though it aches for Steve’s lips.

He gathers sodas, resisting the urge to shake up Mike’s for the hell of it - he would be the one to clean up, and his bitching is not worth it. 

“I guess I can do that,” Steve says, “I’ll try to restrain myself.” 

It pains him to keep his hands to himself, to not kiss your face and play with your fingers, to see your knee bare without his hand to keep it warm. He is beginning to ache from carrying the weight of not telling everyone how fucking in love with you he is, even though they all know it, they see it.

It was never supposed to be more than a late summer hook-up, a once-off. But then neither of you could quit each other, or bear to not spend time together after everyone else had gone home or gone to bed, back to school. Neither of you could push your long-held crushes back after they had breached the surface. So you committed to each other and keeping it quiet until you knew it would not ruin your friendship and threaten the group dynamic. But by then sneaking around was too fun to stop, too exciting to almost be caught. The fizzy feeling of keeping a secret was addictive, and you were both too good at lying. Not to each other, but to your friends. You both suppose you should feel a little bit bad about that, but being together, alone, is a balm for the guilt.

You feel the warmth of Steve behind you, his chin on your shoulder and his hips pressing snuggly against you. He is a tease, a temptress, reminding you through touch alone of the other day when he had you over the kitchen island, a day of playing house together.

“Who do you have for Secret Santa?” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck. Steve smiles when you roll your eyes at him. He bites his lip and wishes it was your mouth instead. 

“It’s not a secret if I tell you, is it?” 

You turn your head and peck the corner of his mouth. He feels seared and branded as you slip away from him, too far away to pull you back in. You can tease too. 

You wink at him, balancing plates of pizza with the skill and poise learned from your shifts at the diner. 

“C’mon, big boy. We’re going to miss the start of Gremlins.”

Steve watches the swish of your skirt, how it brushes your thighs as you walk back to the living room. The extra swing in your hips is for him, another tease. You’re staying over tonight; you will circle back to Loch Nora after bringing El and Will home. Steve has no idea about the red wine lace surprise beneath your clothes. An early Christmas gift.

Neither of you clocks the mistletoe strategically placed in the living room door (it was definitely not there when you left). The living room is swollen with baited breaths and bubbling silence as they wait for your reaction. They are on tenterhooks to see you both kiss (which should be fucking weird) and realise that you would be perfect together. 

Little do they know.

The weirdness of it all directs your eyes up to the green leaves and white berries above, slapped onto the doorframe with scotch tape.

They watch you present your cheek to him, and Dustin mutters ‘on the lips, dummy’ before getting smacked with a cushion. 

“You’re all perverts,” Steve says simply, before closing the gap to press a kiss to your warm cheek. His lips are still buzzing from how you kissed each other in the kitchen. Pizza and soda in your hands stop you from touching each, fingers itching to gently stake your claim.

You rock up on your toes to press a matching kiss to Steve’s cheek, making it shimmer with what is left of your lipgloss (there is already some on his mouth if anyone were to look close enough).

Exasperated by you both, there is a deflated feeling in the room. As if they expected an earth-shattering realisation prompted by meddling and mistletoe. 

“Can we sit down now?” you ask, undeterred by their disappointment. 

The lights are dimmed and your friends make room for you and Steve on the big squishy sofa. The opening credits of Gremlins roll up on the television as popcorn and candy are passed around and shared, soda cans are cracked open and they fizz quietly alongside the sound of chewing.

Pressed up close, with El’s feet in your lap and Robin and Vickie curled together on Steve’s other side, you have never felt so comfortable, so loved. After a little while you rest your busy head on Steve’s shoulder and feel him release a held breath. You are both sugar-crashed and tired of hiding. 

He offers you his hand, palm up on his thigh, and wears a private and pleased little smile when your fingers slot between his. You pull your joined hands into your lap, holding his big hand in both of yours. He squeezes three times and you squeeze four back, though neither of you has said it yet. 

It does not take long for your friends to notice, a ripple of nudges and mouthed ��look!’s’ around the room, silent celebrations and barely-contained excited laughter.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Eddie murmurs, smiling to himself.

You let them have it, their faux victory. 

You will figure out how to answer their questions, how to break the news that you have been a few steps ahead of them all this whole time, and how to apologise for lying and keeping secrets. 

But for now, instead of the film, you look at how the coloured string lights shine on Steve’s face and share one of your secret smiles with him when he catches you looking. You share it with your friends too and bask in the warm glow of it all. 

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs and likes are all like little christmas gifts to me! I love you, byeeee!

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 35

Part 1 Part 34

The shower Eddie finally takes, after over a week of rotting in Steve’s clothes, should be a relief. His head is no longer itchy. He washes the ash out of his eyes, and Steve’s blood out from beneath his nails. Replaces grime with the smell of the clinical nothingness that is the toiletries the hospital provided.

His breath no longer feels like it’s wilting the air around him after he brushes his teeth. The scrubs he changes into are stiff, but clean and dry.

It should be a relief. But, Steve is out of his sight, quiet and small in his hospital bed.

Wayne will keep him safe, he knows. But who will hold his hand if he wakes up again, delirious? Who will sooth him back to sleep?

He hurries the whole process, bangs plastered to his forehead, hair dripping down the back of his borrowed scrub top.

When he rushes out of the bathroom and into Steve’s hospital room, Wayne’s closer to Steve’s bed then he was when he left him, hand clasping Steve’s own, and staring down at him with a look on his face that Eddie’s only ever seen directed at him before. 

It’s just like when Eddie’d kicked the hole in the plaster of the trailer. Or when Wayne had been called in by Hopper after one infraction or another. Or when he comes home after a session of Hellfire, and regales his uncle with the beat-by-beat replay of the action. 

Like fondness and exasperation are warring for space in the purse of his mouth.

“What happened?” Eddie asks. The linolium is cold on his bare feet as he walks over to retake his own seat at Wayne’s side. 

“Your boy woke up just long enough to ask how you were and then pass back out,” he says, glancing at Eddie, eyes twinkling.

“Did he seem–” Eddie starts, looking down at Steve’s relaxed face. “Is he okay?”

The doctors won’t tell them anything. They’re not his emergency contacts, not family. No one seems to care that no one’s been able to contact the Harrington’s for the two days Steve’s been rotting away in the hospital, alone, save for them. Eddie’s mind drifts back to the way Steve had hid so instinctually in his closet, like he needed a safe place in what should have already been safe, and wants to wring their skinny necks. 

Wayne gently maneuvers his hand out from beneath Steve’s own. Steve’s fingers curl into a loose fist, grasping at air, like he’s seeking the warmth of Wayne’s skin even in his sleep. Wayne sits back in his seat, crossing his ankles as he settles with a sigh.

“He’ll be just fine,” Wayne says, turning in his chair to try to catch Eddie’s eyes. “That boy cares about you.”

He says it like it’s a revelation, but Eddie’s not surprised. He can feel it in the tug at his sternum. The way Steve’s eyes had looked through Eddie’s tears as he’d pressed his forehead to his. Like recognizes like.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “He does.”

The Eddie of two weeks ago would’ve been standing on a table top about it. Saying jocks are a monolith, and Steve is the most jock of them all. He would’ve rioted about King Steve Harrington and his corrupt court of lackeys trying to buy his way into Eddie’s good books. For drugs. Or clout. Or something fucking stupid. Eddie would’ve raged against the machine, a riot in the making. 

But that’s not his Steve. Maybe it was never Steve at all. Things look different from up close, and their lunch tables were always so far away. 

Will Steve sit with him at lunch? He doesn’t look much like Steve the Hair Harrington anymore. His hairs been shaved down to the quick. They’d had to, just to get to the wound trailing up Steve’s forehead and into his hair. He can’t imagine this Steve, hurt and small, sitting with the jocks, throwing fries at Tommy Hagan. 

The thought of school after all of this is like hives crawling up his spine. They’d died, risen back up again to end up back at fucking high school. 

“I want to go home,” Eddie says. But he means his trailer a week and a half ago, before he was split into thirds. Before Steve Harrington and Will Byers. Before.

“You can,” Wayne says, scooting over in his chair so he can wrap his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, dragging him uncomfortably over the arm rest for a pseudo hug.

Eddie looks down at Steve’s sleeping face, wonders when home stopped just being a trailer and Uncle Wayne. Things change so fast when you’re running.

It’s a long night.

Eddie sleeps uncomfortably, propped up in his chair. Wayne drapes a scratchy blanket over him on his way out the door, off to work. 

His dreams are full of shadows spilling out of the ground. Chasing him, and he’s always running but never getting anywhere. Of Steve’s back and Steve’s blood and Steve’s vacant eyes. 

He wakes up to fingers combing through his hair, head pillowed on Steve’s hospital bed, blanket slipped off and onto the floor. It’s dark. One of the nurses must have turned off the lights.

The first day Eddie’d refused to leave, they’d given him his own oxygen mask and deluge of tests, propped up in his seat with Will similarly chained to his side. The second day, they’d tried to get him to go home, get out of the way. 

They’d stopped trying to kick him out the day before. 

The fingers move through his hair, pulling at the knots Eddie hadn’t bothered to comb out. Uncle Wayne must be back from his shift. Or maybe, it’s Mama Byers again, checking up on him again, as if she owes him anything at all.

“Hey.”

His heart ba-thump, ba-thump, tugs. He turns his head, smooshing it into the rough sheets to look up at the head of the bed. Steve’s eyes are open. He smiles hazily down at Eddie, uncoordinatedly petting at his head.

Eddie’s lungs heave, trying to vacate his body all together with the pressure of their seizing. He sobs, raising his hand to trail up across Steve’s cheek, impossibly soft after everything. “You’re such a fucking prick,” he says, heat lost in the way he’s blubbering into the sheets.

Steve smiles, like he’s never seen anything as great as Eddie Munson making a mess of himself at his bedside. It’s probably the morphine. “I know.”

“I dared you to stay alive,” Eddie says. “And then you just–”

He’s choking, too much to finish, like Steve’s not breathing in front of him again, or bleeding out in front of him. Steve’s always dying, and Eddie’s always crying about it. 

“I did,” Steve says, still petting his head. It hurts a little. Eddie’s hair’s a mess of tangled curls atop his head. He never wants Steve to stop touching him. “I said I’d come home.”

Eddie cries. He’s not a cryer, but something’s flipped in him, making him weepy. Like the expectation of grief unrealized keeps bubbling up his throat and bleeding out his eyes. Steve Harrington, his own living ghost, smiles down at him. 

“I’m so tired,” Eddie says. It’s a whine, the consonants drawn out and wet at the edges. 

Steve’s still smiling, dopey and tired and perfect. He pats the spot next to him. “Come here.”

It’s a bad idea. Steve’s hurt. But Eddie’s so weak. The thing in his ribs tugs. Eddie follows it.

He crawls under Steve’s shitty hospital bedding, tucking his wet face into Steve’s neck, arm slung carefully over his chest. “You’ll still be alive when I wake up?” Eddie asks, trying to make it a joke. As if Steve’s lifeless eyes aren’t still looking at him from dreamland.

“Promise,” Steve says.

It feels like Steve’s lips on his forehead, quick and fleeting. In the wee hours of the morning, Eddie and Steve fall asleep.

Part 36

[paperbackribs]

He was going to ask for a glass of milk

"I've got to have something," Eddie mutters, "I still have Steve in my mouth."

"You're a pig, don't you dare even say it--" Robin groans at Steve as he perks up next to her. She falls back with a dramatic eye roll against the couch while somehow conveying a sense of comraderie to her hive-mind twin, faintly gesturing for him to continue onwards with an indulgent hand movement.

"You mean...?" Steve asks meaningfully, voice earnestly hopeful even while sweet hazel eyes deepen over a dirty smirk.

Eddie quirks an eyebrow over the second lot of homemade cookies halfway to his mouth, clueless until he suddenly, horrifyingly understands how the dynamic duo had interpreted his words.

"You mean..." Eddie echoes incredulously, waiting for the two of them to jump up, do jazz hands and cry out: 'surprise you homo, Steve Harrington is not into you.'

Instead.

Oh my god, Eddie thinks, as they turn and nod at each other, heart beating harder as Steve's face firms in a familiar determined expression, as if Eddie's a goal to be stolen away from the home team.

Swiftly, and in an almost professional manner that has Robin clapping Steve between his shoulders, she swiftly exits their apartment. The slap of the door slamming behind her echoes through the place and Steve steps forward, eyes mischievous in a way that has Eddie's knees near buckling.

"Want to have a real reason to wash out your mouth?"

[billyharringson]

Have I started another long fic? Yes, yes I have.

Title: The scent of sea salt and sunshine

Main ship: Harringrove

Additional tags: Werewolf Steve Harrington, Werewolves, Pack Dynamics, Hive Mind, Sort Of, Werewolf Nancy Wheeler, Werewolf Jonathan Byers, Werewolf Robin Buckley, Werewolf Chrissy Cunningham, Werewolf Jason Carver, Witch Eddie Munson, Wolfsong inspired, Werewolf Mates, True Mates, Knotting, More tags to be added, Child Abuse, Neil Hargrove is His Own Warning, Suicidal Thoughts, Physical Abuse, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Sibling, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Gay Billy Hargrove, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Top Steve Harrington, Protective Steve Harrington, Alpha Steve Harrington, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Kind Of, not traditional

Summary: Steve Harrington is going to be the next Alpha of the Hawkins wolf pack. It's something he's known since he was a child, and with Hopper getting ready to hand over the reigns, he's beginning to really feel the weight of his future responsibilities. Especially after what happened with his father.

The scars of what everyone in the pack only ever refers to as 'the event' are still fresh in Steve's mind and heart, even if it has been three years. It doesn't matter that none of the pack blame him for what happened, Steve can't help but feel like it was his fault. Starting his senior year of high school with all of that hanging over him would be bad enough, but then someone new comes to town.

Someone who smells like sea salt and sunshine. Someone who makes Steve feel like home.

Even if he is a human.

AO3:

[djostateofmind]

Okay yeah facebooks kinda lame and all but the Harrington Hive is so fun. And we have a fun ass group chat, and we just talk about Djo/Joe and whatever. Come hang out with us 🥹

[rogueddie]

Nancys torn shirt was a poor excuse for a bandage and Steve should have changed it as soon as they got out of the Upside Down. He should have cleaned it, best he could, and rewrapped his sides in clean bandages.

But he didn't do that. He'd forgotten all about his injuries as soon as Nancys eyes rolled back in her head.

It didn't feel important after that. They had stopped hurting during the bike ride to Eddies. If the cloth tied around his waist wasn't covered in dry blood and rubbing uncomfortably against his skin anytime he moved, he would have forgotten all about the bites.

After losing Max... and Eddie... he couldn't bring himself to care. He was still on his feet. He still felt fine. He mostly felt guilty, still high on the adrenaline that always comes with a fight with the Upside Down.

It was Robin who told a nurse that Steve was also injured and needed seeing.

But the bites were... good. They were easy to clean and no where near as deep as Steve remembers them being.

"You're lucky here," the nurse told him. "You need to keep wounds clean, no matter how small. If these got infected, you could be in big trouble."

It was only a week later that he started to feel it. And he knew he should tell the others. Robin, Nancy, Will, anyone. He knows the signs. He knows what it could mean.

He feels cold.

There's a buzzing building in the back of his head.

The portals cutting through the town call to him.

He's hungry.

"I just don't feel well," he lies. "I'll sleep it off, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

He can hear Robin frowning through the phone. It almost makes him ache, knowing how much it must be upsetting her that he's drawing back.

"I'm sure," he says. "I'll call you, the second I feel better."

"Not good enough, Harrington. I want a call every single day, I don't care if you're too sick to talk. Breathe at me or something."

"I'll try." Another lie.

"I miss you, Stevie."

"Miss you too, Bobbie. So much."

He hangs up, and immediately wishes he hadn't.

There's a crack at the bottom of his pool. He can feel exactly where it leads and, without Robins voice in his ear tethering him, he can't think of a reason not to.

It's too tempting. Too easy.

Crawling into the Upside Down, all he feels is relief. It's like he can finally breathe again. The spores make his lungs finally feel clear.

"Wh- Steve?!" Someone yelps.

Sat at the edge of his pool, legs dangling off the edge and covered in blood-

"Eddie?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" He says, sliding down into the pool. The vines move to help him. "You gotta go back, man, you can't be here."

"You're alive?"

"Not really, but that's not important. Harrington, you have to leave. Whatever this hive shit wants you for, it's not good."

"Hive? What?"

"Yeah, the... Jesus, dude, what did you think was drawing you in here?"

"I don't know... I didn't really... I couldn't..."

"Hey, Steve, snap-"

Eddie steps forward, trying to scare Steve back by getting in his face, but he freezes mid sentence when they're barely a step apart.

Before Steve can ask, Eddie is pulling his head to the side by his hair, nose almost pressed to his neck. Sniffing him.

"What the hell?" Steve chokes out, once Eddie draws back.

He doesn't step back though, one hand still clutching his jacket and the other resting on the side of his neck. He looks scared.

"They weren't drawing you in. They were calling you home."

[steddieunderdogfics]

The Gemini Paradigm by Paryton

@the-winged-doe

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

32,936 words, 10/10 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 03, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Hive Mind, Queer Themes, Gender Fuckery, Lesbian Robin Buckley, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Platonic Stobin, Queerplatonic Relationships, mind melded stobin, Soft Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler Has a Crush on Robin Buckley, Mutual Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Past Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Getting Together, First Kiss, First Time, the steddie is endgame but ronance is not, Break Up, Canon typical bullying, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Non-Consensual Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mildly Dubious Consent, Steve Harrington Has Powers, Robin Buckley Has Powers

Summary:

The conclusion Nancy comes to, once she’s suitably pondered the mystery, is three-fold. Firstly, that her fluster and charm at meeting Robin is not entirely an outlier and might be worth exploring. Secondly, that Erica was right and there’s something very wrong with Robin and most likely with Steve too. And thirdly, if Nancy wants to learn more, she needs to observe, to gather data, to really lay out the discrepancies. For Eddie, Buckley and Harrington are everywhere now that he knows to look. And, except for those brief hours at school, they’re always together. There’s something a little bit freaky about them. Something in the way they move, their synchronicity. They almost look like twins from the right angle, like the creepy little girls from The Shining, and Eddie has to remind himself that they aren’t. There’s something to them, though, something weird. And he wants to know more. The ‘truth serum’ has some unexpected side effects. Steve and Robin learn to live entirely entwined, and the rest of Hawkins learns to deal with it. But mostly, two boys fall in love and two girls try to do the same.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @the-winged-doe. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[jadoue1999]

The monsters in the shadows

Part 1 Part 2

Note: Hey guys!! Here is the first part of my fae!Steve and Vampire Eddie story! I had to split it in two parts because of how long the story is but the next part should be posted on Tuesday. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary:

“Hey there, big boy,” he says, trying to coax a reaction out of his prisoner.

“Hi,” simply answers Harrington. There’s something weird with the teen. His voice sounds different from what he remembers it to be; less pitchy, more authoritative. Kas feels obligated to listen. Moreover, Harrington looks… Different, taller, his features are sharper than usual. His eyes feel like they're piercing whatever soul he has left. He doesn’t focus on that, charting the changes to his recent transformation.

Somewhere far within himself, he notices Harrington’s neck, it’s smooth and unblemished, and yet something tells him that the strangulation scar should still be there.

Or: Eddie wakes up as a monster, but it seems like he may not be the only one.

Words: 3635

Part 1

The day Eddie Munson dies, it’s not the end. Well, it is for Eddie, but not for what now resides in his body.

He calls himself Kas.

Kas is Creel’s loyal soldier. He starts out without a name, and one cause: killing anyone that ventures too close to the gates. This task is easily completed, thanks to his now increased strength, speed, and agility. He does so well in fact that he is promoted in no time to be Creel’s right-hand man, and in the process, a deep part of him whispers his new name: Kas. He gains new abilities with his new rank, namely the ability to control the vines, the bats, and all the creatures connected to the hive mind.

The first time he sees someone from the gang Eddie used to consider his friend, he freezes. It’s Robin, the clumsy one, and she freezes too when they lock eyes. She eyes him up and down and notices his scarlet red eyes and his darkened fingers. There’s no mirror in the Upside Down, but Kas knows he looks like a corpse. 

“Eddie?” Breathes out the girl. “Is that really you?”

He grins, showing his fangs and delights when she steps back in fear. “It’s Kas now, actually.”

Buckley takes a moment to gather her thoughts, but then, it’s all spilling out. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you survived! You have no idea how everyone’s been since you died. Dustin is a mess; he barely leaves his house and doesn’t talk to anyone. And Steve! He's bad too but you know him, he doesn’t show it. But not being able to save you, or Max is really taking a toll on him. I can see it in his eyes. And—”

“Buckley,” he interrupts, he’s heard enough. “Let me make something clear.”

He slams her against the tree, and she gasps out his name, his old name, like a plea. 

“I told you, it’s Kas now, sweetheart.” He clasps a cold hand around her neck and squeezes slightly.  Instead, he glares at her. “And I’m not coming back. I’m loyal to Lord Creel now. Loyal,” he insists, his voice surprisingly bitter. “As in: I would never abandon him to a painful and lonely death.”

He stares into her eyes and revels in the pain. It’s only now that he’s actually paying attention to her that he notices that there’s something strange about Robin. But no matter how hard he looks, he can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s like a form of energy, something far more dangerous than Creel, but he doesn’t know what it could be.

 He’s still lost in his contemplations when she whispers. “We didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he counters, his voice dripping with venom. His own anger surprises him but he’s quick to brush it off. “I’m letting you go, but I want you to give a message to Supergirl. Creel is giving her three days to surrender. If she doesn’t, he will make sure she watches as everyone she loves dies, starting with that boy she considers her brother.”

Robin is terrified, so terrified in fact that it takes her a few seconds for her to realize that he is not choking her anymore. Then, she wordlessly leaves, never taking her eyes off of him until she’s out of sight. 

***

Nothing happens on the first day which infuriates Creel. You’d think that a guy in his late 30s, monstrous or not, would be able to control his temper, but he’s practically boiling with anger, which puts the whole hive mind into a snappy mood, Kas included. He patrols the gates to pass the time and kills a person or two who are stupid enough to get close. Nothing really happens on the first day; the second day though it’s different. On the second day, the vines alert him of a trespasser. Kas heads there, without hesitation, Creel’s anger still lingers in his mind and he’s looking forward to sinking his claws into something. 

This “something” turns out to be none other than Steve Harrington himself. 

He’s trapped in the vines; they have been pinned against a tree and Kas takes a moment to drink in the sight in front of him. Eddie Munson once had… maybe ‘crush’ is too strong of a word, but he certainly had a fascination for the young man. A little flame that could have become more had they given it the time and attention. Eddie Munson had trusted that Steve Harrington was good, but Kas knew better. Creel had shown him how many of his fellow soldiers had died by Harrington’s hands, showed him the murderous glint in his eyes whenever he threw himself in the line of fire to protect his kids, Kas had felt the swings of the nail bat, the hit of the fireworks, and the oar, and the way the Molotov cocktail had burned Creel’s flesh. Steve Harrington was not to be underestimated. 

But right now, weaponless and restrained, the teen isn’t dangerous.

For the entire time, Kas has been staring. Harrington has stared right back. He seems… Curiously nonchalant about his situation. Even now that he stands in front of him, a predator, looking at its prey, Harrington isn’t even struggling. How peculiar.

“Hey there, big boy,” he says, trying to coax a reaction out of his prisoner.

“Hi,” simply answers Harrington. There’s something weird with the teen. His voice sounds different from what he remembers it to be; less pitchy, more authoritative. Kas feels obligated to listen. Moreover, Harrington looks… Different, taller, his features are sharper than usual. His eyes feel like they're piercing whatever soul he has left. He doesn’t focus on that, charting the changes to his recent transformation.

Somewhere far within himself, he notices Harrington’s neck, it’s smooth and unblemished, and yet something tells him that the strangulation scar should still be there.

“You’re not the one that's supposed to surrender,” he grins, making sure to flash his fangs. Maybe he’d get to see Harrington scared.

The young man stares at him unimpressed. “I’m not surrendering, I want to make a deal with Creel.”

A deal? How interesting. “And what could you possibly offer that’s worth more than what Lord Creel has wanted for years?”

Despite the tightness of the vines, Harrington manages to straighten up. “That’s between Creel and I.”

Anger boils in his veins, more than just his master’s. “Whatever you want to tell him, you can tell me.”

“I need his word.”

“I am Creel’s right-hand man,” he spits out. “Speaking to me is like speaking to him.”

Harrington narrows his eyes at him and Kas can feel the sudden tension. “Is that so?”

Something about his demeanor screams ‘trap’ but it’s impossible, he’s the prisoner here, not him. “It is.”

“Give me your name,” orders the teen in a tone he’s never heard coming from him before. “Robin said you didn’t use Eddie anymore, so give me your true name.”

The air around them is vibrating with an indescribable intensity, similar to the energy before a particularly powerful storm. Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to be careful, but he doesn’t care. “Kas.”

Harrington grins, and his pupils shrink to slits. For less than a second, his whole face shifts. His mouth is filled with pointy teeth, his eyes are bigger, and his ears are pointier. Kas blinks, and Steve is back to normal, leaving him to wonder if he hallucinated the whole thing.

“Then you can accept a deal on Creel’s behalf, and it being as valid as if he made it himself?”

“Yes,” he answers sharply.

The teen looks satisfied. “Good,” he grins. “I want to settle this petty fight once and for all. So, here’s my deal: I fight against Creel’s champion, no weapons. A fight until someone bleeds. One drop, no need for more bloodshed.”

Kas considers the deal before pouting. “And what does the winner get?”

“If I win, Creel has to leave Hawkins, the world, and, most importantly, Eleven alone. He cannot send any of his monsters in his place to do his bidding either. And I want him to free Maxine Mayfield’s mind. If Creel wins, he gets Hawkins, but the children, namely, Maxine Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Erica Sinclair, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, and Eleven are under my protection.”

Kas scoffs. “And what makes you think you could protect them? You couldn’t protect poor little Eddie.”

He sees the dark glint in Harrington’s eyes, warning him to back off. “I’m not worried about appearances anymore.”

There’s a weight attached to these words. Kas can’t shake the feeling that the game has shifted. He knows that should make him at least fearful, but he can’t figure out why.

“Do we have a deal?” Asks Harrington. He looks smug and Kas wants nothing more than to wipe his smirk off his face. He decides to humor him, for old time's sake. Harrington probably doesn’t know that he’s Creel’s champion and even if he did, the guy couldn’t put up a decent fight against the bats, he’s not going to last against the newly improved him.

“Sure,” he grins, showing his fangs for good measure. “You have a deal.”

Harrington’s face cracks into that uncanny smile again, and Kas has trouble connecting this face with the worry-filled teenager dotting over the children that had charmed Eddie a lifetime ago.

“Good. Take me to Creel.”

It sounds a hell of a lot like an order, so he decides to be petty. He orders the vines to retreat, and he barely gives the teen enough time to take a few steps on his own before he orders a smaller vine to coil around his wrists. The plant is small enough that Kas can cut it off, and the hive mind feels no pain. Even dead, though, it’s still wrapped tight enough to keep the teen moderately restrained.

Harrington raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his predicament. “Seriously?”

Now, it’s his turn to smile smugly. “Prisoners don't get a choice on how we get there.” Then he invades his space, like Eddie had in the stolen RV, and says in the same tone. “Plus, bondage looks good on you, big boy.”

As expected, Harrington flushes red, but there’s also anger in his eyes. “You don’t get to call me that. Only he could.”

“Aw,” he pouts mockingly. “Did I hit a sensitive subject?”

The brunette doesn’t meet his eyes, and it’s all he needs to realize something else. He lets out a dramatic gasp. “Don’t tell me that King Steve actually had a crush on Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?” Steve is fuming, but Kas sees right through it. “You did!”

“Doesn’t matter,” grumbles the teen. Kas delights in the frustration he feels coming off of him in waves.

“If it makes it any better, he did too,” he adds, knowing I'll only add fuel to the fire. He sighs exaggeratingly. “Then again, he didn’t think he could be loved. And it never would’ve worked out between the two of you. Especially since the… You know the ‘leaving him for dead’ part.”

“Back off,” snaps Harrington, and strangely enough, he doesn’t mind changing the subject. 

Instead, he grabs the brunette by his shoulder and shoves him forward. “Walk.”

They walk in silence for a while, neither of them wants to be the one to break the peace. If he used his powers, they’d be there in less than five minutes, but he wants Steve to imagine what’s going to happen, he wants him to simmer in his own fears until they get there. He doesn’t seem very scared, though. In fact, he even looks annoyed. They pass through a clearing full of Demobats, some snarl at the trapped teen, but most either stay back or plainly fly away.

“They remember you,” he realizes, as he feels the anger and fear of the flock.

“Ozzy, right?” answers Harrington, with no amusement in his voice. There’s a few seconds of tension before he speaks again. “We came back for you. Just three days later, you weren’t there.”

Some deep part of him melts at the confession, overjoyed to know that he hadn’t been forgotten about. His friends had come back for him. But Kas quickly shoves that feeling as far as he can, instead, choosing to turn the knife in the wound. “You were too late, again.”

Harrington quickly shoots him a dirty look. “When did you get so mean? Dustin would be really sad to see you like this.”

He doesn’t like how guilty that remark makes him feel. An echo of Eddie and Dustin’s last conversation echoes through his mind.

“I love you, man,” Eddie chokes through blood and tears.

Dustin’s voice trembles. “I love you too.”

Kas snarls as he chases the memory away. He’s tired of the mind games Harrington is trying to pull on him. “That little shit abandoned me just like the rest of you did.” He shoves his prisoner forward, delighting in the way that he stumbles, even if it looks forced. “Keep annoying me like that, and I’m gagging you.”

“Geez, sensitive much?” counters the teen, but there’s a noticeable triumph in his voice.

They keep walking, in silence this time, and Kas can’t help the feeling that he’s playing right into Harrington’s hand.

***

Harrington still isn’t scared when the imposing house gradually appears on the horizon. He keeps his cool and walks straight ahead. It almost feels like the teen is leading Kas to the house. Suddenly overcome with anger, he grabs the brunette’s shoulder, keeping a tight hold on his shirt.

“I lead the way,” he hisses.

Harrington doesn’t answer, but he does roll his eyes. They walk up the stairs that lead to the attic, and he can see the teen trying to avoid the vines that slowly extend towards him, curious at the new visitor. His helplessness gives him great satisfaction. When they finally reach Lord Creel, the creature is already waiting for him.

And he’s angry.

“Kas,” he says, his voice dripping with venom. “Why did you bring that thing here?”

Creel’s disgust toward humans is something he’s well aware of, but never had he referred to them as ‘things’ before. As he approaches his master, he knows he’s done something wrong. In a last ditch effort to save himself, he kicks Harrington behind the knees to make him kneel. The impact of his bone on wood resonates loudly around them, and Kas is relieved when the brunette doesn’t try to get up. An unruly prisoner is the last thing he needs right now.

“I found him close to the East gate.”

“Your orders were clear,” growls Creel. “So why is he not dead?

That’s a good question actually. He should’ve gotten rid of the team's protector. So why didn’t he? “I… I thought he’d make a good hostage.”

“I do not need a hostage; I need Eleven’s head on a stick.”

Kas’ stomach drops when Harrington speaks up, a chuckle in his voice. “You’ll never have her.”

Creel's head snaps down, his face slowly turning into an expression of annoyance. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because we made a deal,” smugly answers the teen. He quickly explains the terms they’ve agreed to, and Creel’s face darkens.

“I did not agree to this deal, it is not valid.”

He may be kneeling, but Steve speaks with the confidence of someone who’s already won. “No, but your right-hand man did. And he, like everything else linked through the hive mind, is an extension of you. Therefore, the deal is valid.”

Creel’s burning rage is suddenly on him, and his dead heart jumps in his chest. “M— Master, it’s just a deal, why is it so important?” he continues to try to justify himself, barely registering when Harrington slowly gets to his feet. Kas does notice how quickly Creel is losing whatever cool he has left.

“It matters because he’s a fae!” His master explodes. 

A deep part of him demands attention at the mention of fae. It whispers of how dangerous they are, that he needs to be careful with his words because faes are tricksters. But most importantly, it warns him to never make a deal with them because the price will always be higher than expected. And Kas just made a deal with Harrington. He looks at the teen, he’s staring right back at him. He’s got that twisted face again, except it’s so much worse than before because now he knows that he’s not hallucinating. His teeth look even pointier, and his eyes glint with what seems to be malice. One of his long nails slices right through the vines keeping his wrists bound and he exaggeratingly rolls his shoulders. 

“Cat’s out of the bag.” His face morphs back to the more human-looking one, but Kas can still see the small details that don’t quite add up. “Let’s get this over with. The kids are waiting for me.” Steve turns to him and winks, but all Kas can see are the not-quite-round pupils. “Ready, champion?”

Uh. So, Harrington knew about him. No big deal he’s still stronger than him… Right?

Creel doesn’t say anything, but Kas can still feel his threat linger in the air. Win, or die. He swipes first, trying to catch the teen off guard, but he simply moves out of the way. Kas tries again, and again, but Harrington dodges him every time. It looks all too easy for him, almost like he’s playing a game. It’s at that moment that he remembers his earlier words.

“I’m not worried about appearances anymore.”

Was this what he meant? Was this the shift he felt?

Suddenly a long nail slices his cheek open, making thick, black blood drip down his face. Kas looks at Harrington, whose face hides in no way his satisfaction at his victory. “I win.”

The house shakes with Creel's anger. He towers over Harrington, who doesn’t even seem worried. “You may have won this fight, but who says I’ll let you leave? Maybe the deal is broken if you die.”

Anger flashes across Steve’s features and the illusion of humanity breaks for a split second. “Would you really risk breaking a deal with a fae? He spits out his tone firm and unwavering. “Not even you would be that stupid.”

Kas is surprised to see actual fear in Creel's eyes. It lasts barely a second, but it’s enough to know that everyone has seen it. His master tries to hold onto his powerful façade and stares down Harrington in an attempt to intimidate him. But if Kas remembered one thing from when he was alive, it’s that Steve Harrington doesn’t get intimidated easily.

As expected, Creel loses the battle and lets out a deep sigh. “Go,” he orders.

Steve smiles and starts to head out, Kas following behind him. He’s not sure why he’s doing it, it’s just something he feels like he’s supposed to do.

“Not you, Kas,” Creel sneers, and he knows he’s fucked. Because he didn’t just lose a fight, he’d also inadvertently foiled all of his master’s plans for revenge. And now he’s going to pay for his mistake. Kas is sure that he’s not going to kill him, but he’s going to make him wish he did. He walks to his master with his head down, he’s terrified, but he knows there’s nothing he can do.

“Kas will be coming with me,” interrupts Harrington. He places himself between him and Creel and the creature stares at him with eyes full of fury.

“And why would he do that? I made him who he is, he belongs to me.”

The teen is not deterred. “Does he?” He challenges. “Reach into the hive mind, he may be a part of you, but is he still yours?”

Lord Creel doesn’t say anything and Kas fears that he might call Harrington’s bluff. He has to be bluffing, right? His master eventually closes his eyes and concentrates. It takes barely 10 seconds before he reopens them with burning anger.

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing,” dismisses the brunette before gesturing towards Kas. “But your loyal soldier gave me his name. Willingly. That means you no longer have any claims to him.”

Creel roars in anger and lunges at Harrington. Vines goes to grab at him, but Steve doesn’t even flinch. However, his face darkens, and the temperature around them drops colder than Kas has ever felt it to be in this place.

“Attack me and see what happens,” hisses Harrington, his voice sharp and cutting. “This place has existed longer than you have, and it will exist long after you’re gone. Don’t make me speed up the process.”

Everything stills around them, and Creel seems to ponder on the words. He’s never seen him this powerless before. He’s not sure he likes it.

“You wouldn’t dare,” taunts Creel.

“Try me.” Harrington doesn’t move. “You have hurt people I love; you have killed innocents by the dozen. I am giving you the chance to walk away and leave us alone. Do not waste it.”

“I will spend the rest of my life, trying to find loopholes,” threatens the creature, his former master.

Steve simply smiles at him but there’s no amusement in his face. “I’ll be waiting.” He then turns to him and nods his head to the side. “Come on, time to go home.”

Harrington starts walking and that familiar feeling, that one that made him follow in the first place is back, except this time he knows what it is: ownership. He is not Creel’s anymore, but he is not free, because he gave his name to Harrington. 

And Harrington kills monsters.

[fizzigigsimmer]

I am in a moody place, and as usual writing soothes me. I have no idea if there will be more of this, but have some broody post apocalyptic King!Steve.

The King Unbroken.

Jonathan was right. They must have crossed the border into what used to be California some time ago. Steve stared down at the old sign, half lodged in the dirt against a pile of twisted tree limbs. An old sign, more rust now than interstate green, nearly unreadable with vine cover. He could still just make out the faded off white letters that read: Little Valley. Five miles.

Sneering, Steve nudged aside the sign with the toe of his boot, revealing the dark opening of a small narrow room hallowed out in the stump of a once great tree - now dead, like so much else. He took one final sniff, spine tensing as he caught that faint whiff of salt that had followed him since they’d veered off route eighty. Maybe it was just sea air, carried in by the rain they had earlier that week. Or maybe it was something worse - like Hargrove.

He saw again, sharp blue eyes peering at him from behind the holes of a wooden mask - no doubt lifted from some museum - white paint highlighting the strange swirls and embellishments carved across the smooth surface of the wood, with brightly colored plumes of feathers jutting out from the top, more frightening than beautiful. It should have been cheesy - a jumped up kid with blood colored handprints staining his skin, trying to invoke fear by wearing the relics of some tribe long gone.

It wasn’t.

Hargrove’s reputation for brutality spoke for itself. And those eyes, that had been so focused in their hunger and unapologetic in Hargrove’s base desire to watch something weaker than himself squirm, had said the rest. Billy Hargrove had scared the piss out of Steve and that was saying something, given that between a choice of being handed over to a savage alpha in exchange for safe trade passages, or facing the flesh eating faceless monsters that roamed freely outside of the compound; Steve had chosen the monsters.

Fuck Billy Hargrove. Fuck his dad too. If the apocalypse had taught Steve anything, it was his value. He wasn’t good for much, but he could be a damn good shield for others. Funny it took the world ending for that to sink in. Because it didn’t matter anymore what his grades were or that he’d never been ‘the best’ at anything besides making others feel small while he stumbled down the path laid for him by his family status and his father’s money. None of it mattered because life was now a brutal game of survival, may the biggest asshole win, and even before the monsters gave him a reason everyone said that Steve Harrington was king asshole.

It wasn’t like Steve had gone through any great big revaluation or soul change. Turning over a new leaf had been literally as simple as turning over in his bunk the first night in the compound and accepting that none of the petty shit he used to care about mattered. Only, in the morning he’d still be alive while better people were dead, so either it was swallow the gun still resting on his nightstand or try and find a little good to do. That’s it. All he was living for. The chance to save a few better people and protect them for as long as he could. Maybe if humanity was lucky, one of those people might be the one to figure out how to deal with the monsters for good.

Everyone in the pack was in awe of the omega who carried a bat full of metal teeth and led raids against grey-dog hives, enemy packs and everything in between, like death couldn’t touch him and his heart was made of stone. There were plenty of people who would swear that Steve was heartless - even some of the ones he’d saved from the outside and brought into the pack himself - but he wasn’t. Not really. He kind of thought that if there ever was a moment that he felt safe enough to really think about everything he had been through since Day One, and everything he had done in between to survive, he’d probably lose it. It might break him, and then he truly would have been just a waste of space.

Which was precisely why he shoved it all down and never thought about it for too long. What was the point? Crying about the dead wasn’t going to bring them back. Neither would feeling guilty over the lives he’d taken. The kind of use the pack had for a soft sentimental omega, one who couldn’t or wouldn’t kill to survive was the stuff of nightmares. He’d seen it happen to most of the other omegas in his life. To his own mother. Only the strong survived here. Nothing was given for free. Anything of value on the other hand could always be taken, or traded.

Steve had proven that he could be more useful than just as a source of amusement and slick. That he could soldier with the best of them. He could get hit, kicked, knocked down, clawed full of holes, and drag himself back up every time. Since their first raid together his team had lost the fewest members and they still had the highest success rate of any party in the pack. Steve had carefully selected each member, because he’d always been good at surrounding himself with people stronger and smarter than himself, and convincing them somehow to care for him.

It was his one skill, besides hitting things. But by god he’d earned the right to say he’d proven he could make good use of what he had. He hadn’t survived watching those beasts tear apart his friends, seeing his mother passed around like a party favor for oil, just to end up sharing her fate. Traded off to a savage alpha to be bred and brutalized in an endless circle of hell until he died.

Fuck that!

Pushing the memory of the alpha aside, Steve knelt down onto his hands and knees and crawled inside, backward, tugging the heavy sign back into place after himself, and plummeting the den into darkness.

Breathing deep, the scent of dirt and rot filled his nose, and Steve Harrington breathed his first sigh of relief in days. It was stupid to think he would - no matter how much his dad complained about having to negotiate with a kid, it wasn’t Hargrove that needed them - but if there were any chance that Billy was following him, he wouldn’t be able to find Steve now.

Dead or not, the walls of the oak were thick. The natural scents of decay overpowered those of an unwashed human body. Even one of an omega flushed with heat and damp from exertion. Feeling around in the dark Steve’s fingers found the strap of the backpack with supplies that Robin had stashed there for him. It wasn’t much: a ratty old blanket (cheap in this warm climate). A water bottle (expensive anywhere). And a little plastic packet of Advil (worth more than gold these days).

But it’s more than most people have. Steve had always had more than what most people have. Even before the monsters came and civilization as he knew it crumbled around him. It wasn’t fair maybe, but life wasn’t fair. If it was, shitheads like him would have been the first to go in the apocalypse; the base of their power destroyed and unable to adapt to whatever new society emerged from the rubble. But that wasn’t what happened when the world as he knew it ended.

What happened was rich guys like his dad who survived long enough after the first appearance of the monsters, bought up resources while they fled to whatever approximation of safety money could buy them. They threw even more money at stocks and whatever else they hoped would make them richer once the danger was passed, and the smart ones stockpiled what they knew would become better than money in the event that the danger never did.

It hadn’t. Steve’s highschool, the stock market, and just about everything else from his old life was gone.

A few pockets of civilization still clung to life in a sea of monsters. Each colony ruled by whatever alphas had proven themselves better survivors than the rest, followed by those who hoped to be protected from a worse fate. Billy Hargrove was said to be one of the strongest alphas in the west.

He’d slaughtered the pack and taken over the territory that once had been their primary source of trade with the east. Steve’s father had offered him a king's ransom in goods for the promise to reopen trade. But Hargrove had only seemed to want one thing. The heartless omega he’d apparently heard so much about.

Curling up tighter in the small space, Steve brought the blanket over himself and shivered, despite the temperature he could feel climbing with each passing minute. His heat could not have come at a worse time but mercifully he’d made it to the den. With Jonathan and the others keeping a watch on the area he could be relatively confident that nothing would disturb him for a few days while he rode it out.

And when his heat was over, Steve had a new mission. Another chance to prove to his father that he had made a mistake, trading him to Hargrove.

Steve closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, trying to drift off to sleep to conserve his energy before the worst of the heat arrived. The faintest whisper of the sea tickled in the back of his nose, more memory than real. Haunting him. Steve gritted his teeth and silently renewed his vow.

He was going to bring his father back Billy’s head, along with the territory that came with it. And when he did no one would ever question again why he’d survived this long, unchained and unbroken.

[teddywesworl]

what if i finally made a pinned fic post

hey hi! I write (naughty) fanfic! here's quick links to all of them!

Dragon Age

and any thing that may not misbecome the mighty sender 13.4k | one shot | explicit | lucanis/rook/spite | undescribed f!rook A Spite POV iteration/rewrite of the canon rookanis romance arc.

The Killing Kind 3.8k | one shot | explicit | lucanis/rook/spite | undescribed f!rook An exploration of the Lucanis slow burn through the lens of PTSD.

if it be thus to dream 2.4k | one shot | explicit | lucanis/rook/spite | undescribed f!rook Lucanis discovers somnophilia, and Rook and Spite show him a good time.

the baseless fabric of this vision 15k | 3/3 chapters | explicit | lucanis/rook/spite | undescribed f!rook Spite discovers wet dreams and becomes a menace. Rook stumbles into one such dream.

The Templar, the Viper, and Other Masks 14k | 2/2 chapters | explicit | ashur/tarquin Tarquin becomes a Shadow Dragon. The Viper acquires a lieutenant. There are growing pains.

The Eagle 3.8k | one shot | rated T | lucanis/rook/spite | undescribed f!rook An argument in favor of Lucanis as an excellent First Talon.

a sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog 8.3k | one shot | mature | cullen/inquisitor | f!mage!adaar A total rewrite of Cullen as I wish he had been approached in DA:I.

Stranger Things

Hades' Dogs (series) Hades' Dogs | Dossier: The Agitator 34k | 2 works | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson A Steddie Mass Effect AU: N7 Steve x biotic experiment Eddie.

A Gem Beyond Counting 13.7k | one shot | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson A shameless tropefic: fix-it, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, first kiss, fuck or die, and sex pollen.

He Knows Only Two Stories 19.4k | one shot | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson A rural New England AU ft. farmer Steve and ambiguously human Eddie.

Who Shall Sing Me Into Deathsleep 38k | 5 chapters | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson A very weird Iron Age ish Viking ish fantasy AU ft. witch!Eddie. Probably the best thing I've ever written.

🪑 30k | 2 chapters | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson Steve decides he'd like to exorcise his Russian interrogation trauma by asking Eddie to tie him to a chair. Rope bondage ensues.

Vino (series) Schiava | Carménère | Sangiovese 40k | 3 works | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson A Kas theory fic. Eddie returns from the dead as a vampire with a hive mind connection to Steve.

Dissonance Theory 30k | 4 chapters | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson 2023 Big Bang fic. Westworld AU. Black Hat android Steve x livestock technician Eddie.

In the Kitchen or the Tulips 44k | 6 chapters | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson A touch-activated telepathic soulmates AU.

Symbiosis (series) Anemone | Amphiprion 34k | 2 works | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson An omegaverse fic. After the events of S4, Eddie and Steve are held in a government black site for experimentation.

un secret au fonds de son cœur (series) Somewhere it Hides a Well | Ce qui embellit le désert INCOMPLETE 26.7k | 2 works | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson Slutty bisexual physical therapist Steve and tired, traumatized "tough guy" Eddie reconnect in 2003. BDSM ensues.

Idle Hands (With Time to Kill) 24k | one shot | explicit | steve harrington/eddie munson 2024 Big Bang fic. Eddie Munson died in 1986, but something has been following Steve ever since.