#you know it's bad when steve 'it's not broken just walk it off' harrington has to drag you to the hospital

[lazylittledragon]

mombin pt 7 <33

(1)(2)(3)(4)(5)(6)

[andvys]

I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 6

Warnings: angst, mentions of heartbreak, alcohol consumption

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Steve finally gets the answer to a question that has been haunting him for days.

Word count: 6k+

A/N: @belokhvostikova remember the ask you sent me about the idea with the denim jacket? I had to include it in this chapter, so thank you hehe &lt;;3

series masterlist

-

Steve’s phone kept ringing all day, since the early morning hours. He doesn’t know if it was her or his mom, he didn’t bother to get up and check. At some point, the doorbell rang twice, he didn’t get up to open it either. He wanted to be left alone. He didn’t want to see anyone except for you. The thought of you just made him cry harder and made him feel more pathetic about himself – he kept reminding himself that it was him who fucked it all up. 

He never felt such self hatred for himself the way he does now. All day, he laid in bed thinking about you and all the things that happened that led him here, getting drunk at a bar he used to hate, wallowing in self pity while he knocks back one drink after the other after throwing his fake ID on the counter.

How will he keep going? 

Steve downs his fourth drink of the night and slides the empty glass over to the bartender, asking for another one. 

The man gives him a look of concern, eying Steve for a moment. 

“Just.. please,” Steve mumbles. 

The bartender sighs, shaking his head, he mumbles something under his breath but still, he picks up the bottle and pours the whiskey into the glass, “you’re getting water after this one, son.” 

“I have water at home,” Steve says. He reaches for the glass and slides it back towards himself. He leans his elbow on the counter and looks around the mostly empty room. Some rock song is playing in the background, one he doesn’t recognize. There’s a heavy cloud of smoke in the corner of the room where two men are sitting, laughing at some jokes that probably aren’t funny as they smoke their cigarettes and drink their beer. 

The door opens and in walks the guy that is probably one of the most irritating people at Hawkins High – to him, at least. Steve bites back a groan when their eyes lock. He turns back around, avoiding eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he sees him walking towards the bar. 

“Hey Tony.” 

Steve lifts his head a little to see the Bartender smiling. 

“Hey Ed, how’s it going?” 

Eddie drums his fingers against the wooden counter, he looks around the room, “good, uh, have you seen my notebook? I’ve been looking for it everywhere but I can’t find it – I even cleaned out my van, can you believe it?” 

Tony chuckles, “was about time you cleaned out that thing, boy.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, snorting, “yeah, well I’m busy.” 

“With what?” 

Eddie pretends to think as he raises his brows and looks up at the ceiling, “well, working my ass off so I don’t have to repeat senior year again, I recently found a good tutor,” Eddie smirks, “got myself a muse to help me write the song texts,” Eddie wiggles his brows, making the older man laugh, “working on a new campaign. Oh and of course, how could I forget, comforting the broken hearted – you know, just the usual,” he shrugs as his eyes flicker over to Steve for a moment.

“What a busy man you are, Eddie,” Tony chuckles, shaking his head. He throws the towel on the counter, “I’ll take a look in the back.” 

“Thanks man,” Eddie smiles, watching him disappear in the hallways. He turns his head to look at Steve. 

“What is King Steve doing at the Hideout?” 

Steve turns to face him and Eddie raises his brows in surprise, “damn, you look like shit, man.” Eddie says. Taking in the puffy eyes and the dark circles beneath them, he almost feels bad for him. His hair looks messy, not as perfectly done the way it always is. 

“Get lost, freak.” 

“Always the douchebag,” Eddie mumbles, rolling his eyes.

Steve turns away, he raises the glass to his lips and takes a sip, swallowing the bitterness. 

“Are you pre drinking for the dance tomorrow or are you just drowning your sorrows in alcohol because you finally realized what a piece of shit you are?” Eddie asks. Not being able to hold back. 

Steve frowns, he turns to face him. There is something in Eddie’s eyes that Steve can’t read. 

“What the hell is your problem?” He asks. Not understanding the anger that is directed at him. They never liked each other but they never attacked each other either. Steve avoided him, he never had the jock’s back when they bullied him but he never really did anything about it either. 

Eddie looks at him for a moment. He opens his mouth to speak but decides against it. He sighs and looks away but Steve keeps staring at him. A weird feeling takes over him when he looks down at the jacket Eddie is wearing. His heart stops and his face pales. 

It’s that jacket. The one that has been in your room all week. It’s just a normal dark denim jacket, it could just be a similar one, he tells himself. But the Metallica pin on the sleeve is the exact same one that he had seen on the jacket in your room. 

Eddie smells like cigarettes and weed, the cologne that he can smell even from a distance is the same one that he had smelled on you. Realization floods through him in a cold wave. 

Eddie Munson is the stoner Billy had talked about? 

Eddie Munson is the guy you have been seeing? 

How did you even meet him? 

You never even talked to him when you were still with him. 

“You got lucky, Ed,” Tony says, holding up Eddie’s notebook, “you gotta take better care of your things.” 

Eddie chuckles, feeling relief. He takes the notebook and sighs, “I know, I know,” he mumbles and steps back, “I’ll see you on Tuesday, Tony.” 

“Tell your old man to come by too.”

“Yes sir,” Eddie salutes, grinning at the older man, he takes another look at Steve, who stares into blank space as he holds the half empty glass in his hand. Sighing, he turns around and leaves. 

Steve snaps out of his thoughts, he reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and picks out a fifty dollar bill. He throws it on the counter and puts his wallet back into place, he grabs his jacket and makes his way out of the bar, following Eddie. 

“Hey! This is too much, kid!” 

“Keep the change,” Steve mumbles before he stumbles out into the cold. He clumsily puts on his jacket. The cold air hits him harshly and he suddenly feels much tipsier than he did while he was in there. 

Eddie stands by his van, the notebook is tucked under his arm, his hand is cupped over the cigarette that is between his lips as he lights it up. 

“Hey!” Steve calls out to him. He stumbles through the snow. He blinks, trying to get rid of the blurriness in his eyes. 

Eddie turns around to face him, a curious look residing on his face. He blows the smoke into the other direction and leans against his van. 

“What do you want, Harrington?” 

Steve stops in front of him. The wind feels harsh on his skin, not even the thick jacket does anything to shield him from the cold. How Eddie is able to walk around with a denim jacket and not freeze to death makes him wonder.

“W-Where did you get that jacket?” He asks. Not knowing what else to ask now that he stands in front of him. 

Eddie stares at him with a serious look on his face, eyeing him up and down. “Why?” He asks. “You wanna buy it?” 

Steve furrows his brows, he shakes his head, “no?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

Steve’s mind is a little hazy, he feels more drunk than tipsy, right now. 

“You’re the stoner.”

Eddie raises his brows, his dark eyes flash with amusement and confusion, “the stoner?” He chuckles and takes another drag from his cigarette. “They usually call me a drug dealer but sure, I’m also a stoner – sometimes.” 

Steve shakes his head. “A-Are you with y/n?” 

Eddie tilts his head. “With y/n?” 

“Are you hooking up with her?” Steve asks, angrily. 

A knowing look takes over Eddie’s expression. He pulls back and sighs in annoyance. 

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, I don’t take advantage of vulnerable girls. And not everything is about sex,” he glares at him. He feels irritated by Steve and by the way he looks so confused about this revelation. 

“Then what is it about?” He slurs. Throwing his hands up. 

“Jesus, you’re a real douchebag. Is that all you think about? Sex?” He asks. “Can’t two people that like each other just be friends?” 

The look on his face tells him no. For some reason, Steve can’t comprehend that thought. How can Eddie be your friend and not want you? He always wanted you. Ever since you were little kids. He always loved you. He always wanted you to be his – until he didn’t. 

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes, he throws the cigarette into the snow and walks away. The sound of Steve’s keys jingling makes him halt in his tracks though. He closes his eyes, annoyance rushes through him. He doesn’t like Steve, he never did and after what he did to you, he started liking him even less but you are his friend and you still care about him. He takes a deep breath and turns around. 

“Put those keys away, dude.”

“Huh?” Steve mumbles. Looking up in confusion. 

“You’re not driving home like that,” he says. Pointing to his drunken state, he watches Steve trip over a small pile of snow. Maybe if things were different, he would’ve laughed at him. “Get in the van, I’ll drive you home.”

Steve looks at his car, knowing he is in no state to drive himself but he refuses to get into a car with Eddie Munson. 

“I’ll walk.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you let the freak drive you home.”

It’s not about that, it’s about you. 

Steve looks at Eddie, who stares at him in annoyance. 

“Get in the car, dude. She’d kick my ass if she knew that I let you drive home like this.” 

Steve looks down for a moment. He takes a few deep breaths and nods. He puts the keys back in his pocket and opens the door, careful not to slip on the icy ground, he looks down and gets into the van. 

Eddie jumps into the driver's seat and closes the door. He throws the notebook on the windshield and puts the key into the ignition, startling Steve with the loud music when he starts the car. He scrunches his face up and turns down the volume, “shit, my bad.”

Steve’s heart is pumping in his chest, sighing, he opts to look out the window after putting the seatbelt on. 

“Your music sucks.”

“The audacity you have, Harrington,” Eddie scoffs. “Here I am being nice, inviting you into my van and you dare to insult the best music that there is!” He says dramatically.

Eddie hits the buttons, turning on the radio instead, Heroes by David Bowie starts playing, “here, just for you, King Steve.” He snorts. Not knowing that this will turn out to be a bad idea. Steve tenses up when he hears the song but Eddie doesn’t notice, he is too focused on the street as he backs out of the parking spot. 

The song takes him back to last year, back to you. 

“If you had to give us – our relationship a song, which one would it be?” You asked him as you sat on his lap. 

“A Song?" He asked, chuckling. 

You nodded with a smile on your face as you looked through your new polaroid pictures that you have taken with him in the snow. He leaned his chin on your shoulder and tightened his grip on your waist. 

“Uh– probably, Heroes.” 

“By David Bowie?” 

“Yeah.” 

You nodded, humming. For a moment, it was silent between the two of you, you placed the polaroids back on the table and turned to face him.

“Isn’t it sad though?” 

Steve shrugged, not thinking as deeply as you did. 

“He sings,” you cleared your throat and looked at him shyly. “And you, you can be mean,

and I, I'll drink all the time. 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day. We can be heroes for ever and ever. What d'you say?” 

Steve was smiling at you, his heart was fluttering in his chest and you, you were blushing by the time you were done singing. 

He poked your waist and leaned in to kiss your cheek, giving you one of his rare soft moments. “Exactly, he sings ‘we’re lovers’.”

“You are not listening to the rest of the song, Steve!” 

 “Then keep going.”

“No,” you giggled. 

“Please,” he whispered, pouting. “I love your voice.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully. You kissed his cheek and began to sing again, clearly loving the sweet moment between the two of you when he watched you with soft eyes. He cleared his throat and picked you up, laughing at the squeal that fell from your lips, he leaned in to steal a kiss before he placed your feet on the ground. He grabbed your hairbrush from your desk and held it up to his lips. 

“I, I will be king and you, you will be queen.” He sang. 

You giggled and walked backwards as he began to walk you towards your bed. 

“Though nothing will drive them away. We can be Heroes, just for one day.” He furrowed his brows as he tried to remember the rest of the lyrics. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him, “and we kissed, as though nothing could fall.” 

“You forgot the rest of the lyrics–” he cut you off with his lips on yours, kissing you passionately. He pulled your body so close against his, he could feel your heartbeat. 

Now he feels his heart breaking in his chest. 

Maybe it’s the ache in his chest, maybe it’s the alcohol in his system or maybe it’s just a combination of both that makes him break down in Eddie Munson’s van. Startling the man who was bobbing his head to the music until he heard Steve’s quiet sob. Stopping at the red light, he furrows his brows and looks over at Steve. 

“Uh– you good?” He asks. He feels a little stupid to ask him that, clearly, Steve is feeling anything but good. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and presses his lips together. How does he comfort a man that he doesn’t even like? 

Steve cries softly, the shame isn’t there yet, right now, he doesn’t care that he is crying in front of Eddie who could tell everyone that King Steve broke down in his car while listening to David Bowie. 

“Need a tissue?” Eddie asks even though he knows he doesn’t have any in his van. 

Steve just shakes his head, clearly wanting to be left alone.

Eddie nods to himself, taking a deep breath, he sighs. Eddie knows why he is crying, it doesn’t take him long to figure it out. The moment he saw him getting drunk at the Hideout, he just knew. 

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive over to Steve’s house. The music and Steve’s soft cries sound through the van. A part of Eddie pities Steve, the other part doesn’t – after all, it’s all his own fault. 

He pulls up into Steve’s driveway, still remembering the way to his house from the last party he threw back in august when he had first talked to you. He stops the car and turns down the music a little. 

“We’re here.” 

Steve nods. He wipes the tears away and he reaches for the door handle but he doesn’t leave, not yet. His eyes fall on the note lying on the floor, it must’ve slipped out from his notebook. He instantly recognizes your handwriting and his heart drops a little when he realizes that you are writing them for someone else now. It’s not affectionate or romantic, the note only says ‘good luck on the test today. Can’t wait for the milkshakes you promised!’ Next to a smiley. 

“I miss her.”

Eddie didn’t expect to hear those words from him. He leans back in his seat. 

“I-I miss her so much,” he whispers. “I-I don’t know what to do without her. I want her back.”

“You have a girlfriend, man. You left y/n for her,” Eddie mumbles. “Do you even know what you want?” 

Steve feels the bile rising in his throat. He feels sick. 

“I do now, b-but it’s too late.”

Eddie glances at him. The look of sadness and the tears are genuine and so are his words but there isn’t anything that he could say that could make Steve feel better. He doesn’t deserve you, you are too good for him and you have suffered enough to give him another chance to break you again. 

“I don’t know what you wanna hear, dude. You broke her heart and you did it in such a fucked up way too, there’s no coming back from that.”

Steve isn’t sure about what he wanted to hear but it’s definitely not that. 

“Just leave her alone, you’re only making things worse,” Eddie sighs as he thinks about you. “Go home, Steve.” 

Steve sniffles, he opens the door and nods. 

“And don’t ruin the night for her tomorrow.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, he looks at him through the tears. “She's coming?” 

Eddie nods, “yeah, her friends convinced her to come.” He can see the look in Steve’s eyes, it’s the same one he sees in your eyes. He loves you, which makes everything so much more confusing. Why did he leave you for someone else when he loves you so much? 

Steve blinks. He looks down for a moment, staring at the note that makes his heart ache. “Oh okay,” he whispers. “T-Thanks for driving me home.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, this is the most kindness he had ever shown to him. 

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbles. He narrows his eyes at him. Steve doesn’t move yet. The look on his face tells him that he wants to say more. 

“Spit it out, dude.” 

Steve looks up. Tears continue to brim in his eyes, the words are strangled in his throat. He takes a few deep breaths as he tries to stay calm. 

“T-Take care of her?” 

Eddie wants to tell him that you are capable of taking care of yourself but he decides against it. He nods. Even though he can’t understand why Steve did what he did, he can imagine the self hatred and the sadness he is feeling. A flicker of sympathy flashes in Eddie’s eyes.

“I will.”

Steve almost breaks down when he thinks of your words again, of the way you cried when you begged for him to leave, when you called him bullshit. 

He walks away when he feels like breaking down again. 

He fumbles with the keys, almost dropping them when his hands begin to shake. He manages to open the door, he steps inside and closes it. Leaning against it, he drops the floor and buries his face in his hands, a broken sob leaves his lips. 

He knows he has to let you go, the way you let him go but how? 

How? 

-

You stare at your reflection in the full length mirror. You apply the red lipstick that Chrissy convinced you to get when you stopped by the drug store after you bought the dress that you had caught your eye the last time you went shopping with them. A black, glittery dress. It’s not too tight but it’s not a wide one either, though it fits your body perfectly. The straps are thin and it has a cut on the side. You love it. It’s not something you would usually wear, you always opted for the colorful dresses but, you feel like it’s time to switch things up. 

How you let them convince you to come to the dance after all? You have no idea but the thought of spending another night filled with tears made you feel miserable. 

Heather is standing behind you with the curling iron as she finishes off the rest of your hairstyle. 

Some Christmas song is playing on the radio, the room smells like a mix of hairspray and perfume.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask as you stop applying the lipstick. 

She hums, glancing at you through your mirror. 

Heather purses her lips, she pulls the curling iron away from your hair and twists the wave. 

“Is it just me or is Chrissy being weird towards me?” 

“What do you mean?” She asks. But you can see the knowing look in her eyes, you know she – they are both not telling you something.

She runs her fingers through your hair and smooths down your waves and applies more hairspray. 

“She’s just, I don’t know. I feel like she’s keeping something from me,” you mumble. “And she seemed so sad when I agreed to go with you.” 

Heather hesitates to speak up. You can tell that she is trying to come up with a lie. 

“She’s probably just sad because she has to go with Jason Carver.”

You look down at your painted nails and nod, “yeah, I guess.”

“Which I totally get, who would want to go with him?” Heather tries to change the topic, you know she is.

“Literally no one,” you snort. “But he will probably be the new King of Hawkins High once Steve and Billy graduate and the naive freshman girls will throw themselves at him,” you say with a disgusted look on your face. 

“God, that’s a disgusting thought,” Heather says. “Let’s talk about something else – look at you,” she smirks as she leans down, placing her finger under your chin, she raises your head, “queen of Haw–”

“Don’t say that,” you groan as you tilt your head up to look at her. 

She chuckles and ruffles your hair a little. “You look amazing, now get your ass into that dress and let’s go. Maybe Munson will show up for you and steal you for a dance,” she wiggles her brows.

You roll your eyes but you can’t fight the smile off your face. 

“Shut up,” you mumble. You reach for your half finished drink. Maybe it’s not a good idea to drink alcohol but you need it, right now. You don’t plan on getting drunk, just a little tipsy to make it through the night. 

You both finish getting ready, you put your dresses on and take a few polaroid pictures in front of the fairy lights in your room. You throw a mint into your mouth and spray more perfume on yourself, hoping that your mom won’t smell the wine on you. 

She doesn’t notice it or at least, it seems like she doesn’t. She takes more pictures of you and Heather in front of the Christmas tree before you leave.

The school hall is bustling with people, loud music is playing and everything is decorated in gold, red and green colors – fitting the Christmas season. Your arm is linked with Heather’s. She seems excited, you feel overwhelmed.

The lights are flashing, girls in colorful dresses rush past you with their dates. You look around, trying to spot Chrissy but you don’t see her anywhere. You sigh, the first few minutes of a big event are always the most awkward ones. 

Where do you stand? Where do you sit? Who do you talk to? Is it too early to dance? Is it too early to leave? 

“Hey, are you okay?” Heather asks. 

You nod, smiling at her. 

“You seem a little overwhelmed.” 

“I’m fine, I-I just need something to drink.” 

“A drink?” A deeper voice asks. One that instantly makes you roll your eyes. 

Billy steps in front of you with a smirk on his face, he eyes you up and down before he looks over at Heather, checking her out as well. He is wearing a tux, the button down underneath the jacket is almost fully unbuttoned. 

“You look slutty, Billy.” You joke, “you’re lucky Mrs. Myers isn’t around or you’d be sent home for violating the dress code.” 

He chuckles darkly, leaning closer to you, he holds up one finger, “the slutty look is exactly what I was going for.” 

“As always,” you snort.  

“Do you wanna dance?” Billy asks you. 

“No thanks but Heather wants to dance.”

She turns to you with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“I know you want to,” you whisper into her ear before you pull away and place her hand into Billy’s, who smirks at you. 

“I’ll drown you in the punch if you don’t treat her well.” 

He only laughs in amusement, clearly not taking the threat seriously. 

“Y/n?” Heather glares at you. 

“Have fun, babe.” 

You know all about her not so secret crush on Billy – she is good at hiding it but you saw right through it. 

You make your way over to the snack table. Waving at some of the girls from the cheer squad who are taking pictures with their dates. 

A huge bowl is in the middle of the table, filled with red liquid and fresh fruit. You wonder if someone spiked it with alcohol yet. You pour some of it into a cup and take a sip. Definitely spiked. You down the rest of the drink and pour yourself a second cup. 

“Hey.”

You freeze. You stare down at your drink. Yeah, you definitely need the alcohol tonight. You haven’t talked to him since that night, you sat next to him during English class today and you had submitted the essay together but you didn’t talk and you hoped that it would stay that way. You didn’t want to talk to him anymore. 

“Careful with the punch, Tommy spiked it.”

You turn around to face him, his eyes widen a little when he takes in the sight of you. He looks you up and down, not in the same way Billy did but in a way that leaves your skin crawling and your heart racing. 

He is wearing a black tuxedo with a red bow tie. His hair looks amazing as always but his eyes are filled with sadness. 

“Good,” you mumble as you drink the spiked punch. 

“Y-You look beautiful,” Steve says. His heart flutters, you steal his breath away. The dark eyeshadow makes your eye color more prominent. Your red lips look so kissable and the dress looks like it was made for you. You are perfect.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Steve?” You sigh. You refuse to look into his eyes, knowing that it will only make things worse. 

He blinks, furrowing his brows. He looks over your shoulder to where she’s standing with Jonathan, smiling at him. “She’s uh–” he stops talking when he sees you walking away. He sighs, clenching his hand into a fist, “shit..”

You already feel like going home – you knew you would run into him, you still weren’t prepared, you never are. You are sick of the feeling he leaves you with whenever you see him. You are so over it. 

You take a seat at your assigned table and look around, finally spotting Chrissy in the crowd. She’s dancing with Jason, you can see the forced smile even from a mile away. 

You can’t stand him. You always hated the way he treats others – the way he thinks that he is so much better than everyone else and the way he thinks he can have anyone he wants. The way he uses Mrs. Cunningham’s liking towards him to force himself into Chrissy’s life, knowing that she doesn’t actually like him. 

You relax a little when you see Heather heading towards Chrissy, pulling her away from Jason so that they can dance together. You lean back in the chair and sip on your drink. 

You wish you would have stayed at home. 

You wish you would have listened to Eddie when he said that this sucks. 

You feel like a loser, sitting by yourself at this empty table, sipping one drink after the other as your eyes continuously move back to him. You see him with her and it breaks your heart all over again. By now, you should be used to it and you were – you have gotten used to this. To him not being yours anymore, to him loving someone else, to him being with someone else but then he turned everything upside down.

His confession left you in shambles. He had broken everything, again. All the strength you have gathered since the day he left you, he took it all away from you with a few words and a kiss that almost happened. 

He loves you, that’s what he said. But he is here, holding her in his arms, kissing her as though he didn’t try to kiss you, two nights ago. He is dancing with her, whispering things into her and holding her tightly. 

None of it makes sense to you. 

If he loves you so much, then why is he dancing with her as though nothing ever happened? 

Why is he still with her? 

Is she a rebound now or were you just the backup plan all along? 

The girl he’d come back to once things with her go downhill? 

Are they already going downhill? 

Is that why he told you he still loves you? 

So that he has someone to come back to? 

You feel so miserable. The longer you stare at him. You begin to feel worse and worse. 

Not even a dance with your friends helps you lift your mood. Not even the compliments and the nice things that people have said to you tonight, make you feel better. Nothing makes you feel better but you force a smile on your face, a happy one. The way you always do and you dance with Heather and Chrissy, holding their hands and pretending to have the time of your life when all you wanna do is go home and cry yourself to sleep. 

It’s when you find yourself sitting on the bleachers with a sad expression on your face, ready to say ‘fuck it’ and go home, that your night takes a turn for the better. 

You don’t hear the footsteps coming your way, you are too busy looking at all the happy couples. Someone clears their throat. 

“May the Master of Dungeons have a dance with the ethereal Queen of Hawkins High?” 

Your eyes widen and a smile tugs at your lips, you straighten up and turn to look at Eddie who playfully bows in front of you with a smile on his face, getting a few weird looks from the other, which neither of you care about.

A giggle falls from your lips, “Eddie!”

“Come on, give me your hand, Queen.”

You laugh and place your hand in his. He pulls you up and smiles at you when your eyes lock. ���Look at you,” he beams. He raises your hand over your head, “give me a twirl,” he winks. 

You roll your eyes, playfully. Giving him the twirl that he asked for, you can’t help but giggle when he begins to whistle. 

“You look beautiful, sweetheart!” 

He grabs your waist when you stumble a little. He instantly smells the alcohol on you. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” 

He eyes you with a smile on his face, “love the smokey eyes and the dress – honestly, you look like a witchy fairy.” 

“A witchy fairy?” You laugh, tilting your head. 

He puts his hand over his heart, “I mean that as a compliment – a badass witchy, fairy, shit, I’m gonna have to create a character based on you now.” 

You shake your head, laughing at the concentrated look on his face. He is wearing a white button down, a few buttons are left undone, one of his tattoos is peeking out from beneath the shirt, and a silver chain is around his neck. His curly hair looks as good as always. 

“You look amazing, Eddie.”

He raises his brows in surprise, his dark eyes light up. 

“Thank you, badass fairy witch,” he winks. “Look, I stole these pants from Wayne, I have none without holes in them,” he laughs, pointing to the black pants he is wearing.

You can’t even help but giggle. 

“I thought this isn’t your thing,” you say. Gesturing to the dance. 

He shrugs, “yeah well, I thought you could use a dance partner.”

Your gaze softens. A feeling of warmth and comfort rushes through you. “You came for me?” 

He holds your hand tighter, “who else would I come here for?” He asks as he looks into your big eyes. 

“My knight in shining armor,” you tease. 

He snorts at your words, “come on.” He says as he pushes you in front of him and leads you into the middle of the dance floor, pushing some jock out of the way. You can feel the eyes on you, you can see the weird looks from the cheerleaders when they see you with Eddie. It only makes you scoff at them. 

A squeal leaves your lips when Eddie suddenly twirls you again, laughing when you hold onto his hand tightly. He wraps his arms around you from behind and leans in, “let me guess, you had some of that spiked punch?” He whispers into your ear. 

"Absolutely,” you giggle and turn around to face him. You place your hands on his shoulders. 

“Bad girl,” he smirks, tapping your nose.

“I learned from the best.” You tap his nose back, making him laugh. 

Steve watches you and Eddie with an irritated look on his face. You seem so carefree and happy with him. So familiar. Like you have known each other for a long time already. You melt into his touch so easily and laugh at whatever he is whispering into your ear. 

The feeling in his chest is sickening. He knows it’s jealousy. He can’t do anything about it though. The girl in his arms is his, you aren’t – not anymore.

Every breath you take by The Police starts playing. Some leave the dance floor, some stay to slow dance with their partner. Steve pulls Nancy closer and looks over her shoulder to see what you will do.��

Eddie pulls you closer and you wrap your arms around him, you lay your head on his chest, melting into him so easily. It breaks Steve’s heart a little. He feels tense, it’s hard to see you with someone else, even when Eddie said that there is nothing but friendship between the two of you, it certainly looks more than just that to Steve.

You don’t even notice the weird looks you are getting from the people around you. You are only focused on him. The thought of you and Eddie somehow hurts more than the thought of you and Billy. Because Billy would be nothing more than a hookup but Eddie? Eddie is a good guy, one who will treat you well and love you the way he couldn’t.

“Is everything okay?” Nancy asks as she lifts her head to look at him. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles with a frown on his face. “Why?”

Her blue eyes are filled with confusion, she shrugs, “you seem tense.”

“I’m fine, Nance,” he says, softly. 

“Okay,” she smiles. 

When she lays her head on his chest, he squeezes her and looks back up. His breath hitches in his throat when his eyes lock with yours as you rest your chin on Eddie’s shoulder, who’s back is turned towards him. For a moment, you look at each other. Steve’s heart begins to beat faster in his chest, the longer you look at each other. He longs for you. This, all of this, feels so wrong. He shouldn’t be here with her and you shouldn’t be there with him. 

But while his eyes soften, your eyes harden. 

His are filled with longing and sadness. 

Yours are filled with indifference. 

You look at each other for a few long seconds and then you take one final look at him before you tear your eyes away from him. Somehow, that felt like a stab to his heart because that moment felt like the end. The realization that it is truly over makes his blood run cold. He feels paralyzed by the pain that he had caused himself. 

Eddie tightens his hold on you when he feels how tense you are, he looks down at you with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

"Yes, please." 

next part

only tagging friends & mutuals

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @screammunson @hellfire--cult @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628 @somethingvicked @nemesis729 @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can

[buckysgrace]

Gimme steve being desperate and pathetic and missing the taste of pussy so badly that he begs for it 🩷🩷🩷🩷

This is nasty and so awful but Steve is at his rock bottom dying for the taste of pussy he can't help himself

Steve Harrington x Bi!Reader

Steve is going through a dry spell and seeks out pleasure in the one person he shouldn't. Robin's girlfriend. (im so sorry Robin ily)

CW: Phew, fem receiving oral sex, spitting, unprotected p in v sex, slight bulge kink, cheating, steve begs a lot but reader wants it just as bad!!

He was sure that he was losing his mind.

He'd tried everything. Bad date after bad date. Shitty, expensive pornos that he'd jerked himself off to until his dick was raw and sore. It was like he was broken. He couldn't cum.

It had been an accident the first time it had happened. He had finished his shift early and had grand plans on returning home and trying to jerk off in the shower again.

He had roughly stumbled in through the front door, not even able to announce his arrival before his heart stalled inside of his chest. His eyes fell to the two scrambling forms, but more importantly to you.

Your legs were spread wide, your back pressed deeply into the cushions as you tried to free yourself. It wasn’t quick enough. He was able to observe your cunt in that quick flash, to see the slick across your folds before you clamped your legs shut and tried to hide your breasts beneath your palms.

A squeal left your mouth, embarrassment seeking into your features as you blindly searched for something to cover yourself as Robin began to defensively throw pillows at Steve to get him to turn away.

He did, but he still had the chance to get a good look at you. He thought about you constantly after that. He couldn't get rid of the sight of the way your body curved, the softness of your boobs and the way your ass moved when you walked. Most of all, he wanted to taste you. He wanted to press his tongue deep inside of you, to explore your deepest crevices until there was nothing left.

He felt like he was obsessed. Every time he touched himself or when he was with someone else; he thought of you. He pictured your pretty features, imagined what your face would look like contorted into pleasure with his face buried between your smooth thighs.

It was the one thing that truly got him off. He felt terrible, awful really. He knew it was wrong, but he could feel his eyes lingering each time you were in the room. It wasn't even in a sexual way. He could feel himself savoring the way you looked. He enjoyed the curve of your face, your nose and your lips. Your eyes. All of it.

He liked listening to you talk, how you'd ramble about your favorite books and the new movies that you were excited to see. You were sort of a nerd like Robin, but he ultimately enjoyed each little thing that fell from your tongue.

He felt like he was young again, like he was experiencing his first crush all over again. His palms would grow sweaty, his heart would hammer and he would stutter over his words as he tried to find the right thing to say to you. Robin had taken to mocking him, completely oblivious to his little crush.

You always acted interested, even if it was just out of kindness. You were patient, kind. As his feelings grew, the guilt began to consume him. He didn't know why the one person who he'd finally felt something for had to be Robin's.

"Can't sleep?" He asked, his mind racing as he took in the baggy shirt that was resting over your shoulders. He felt his mouth growing dry, his cheeks hot as he took in your hardened nipples against your shirt. His eyes trailed down to your hips, taking in your panties that were decorated in sunflowers.

"Yes," You giggled offhandedly as you pushed your hair behind your ears, exposing your pretty face to him, "Robin always has an easier time falling asleep." You told him truthfully, smiling as you held your cup of juice towards your chest.

"Yeah," Steve agreed softly, thinking of the many times that Robin had passed out in his bed next to him, "She's a deep sleeper." He nodded, his glass suddenly feeling too slippery in his grip. He sat it down as he leaned against the counter, watching the way your shirt slid further up your body as you raised your arm to take a drink from the cup.

"You've been around more lately," You observed, using the back of your hand to wipe the liquid from your lips, "Dry spell?" You teased him, making his lips curl up into a smile at the thought of you noticing.

"Something like that," He agreed as he tapped his fingertips on the counter. You moved towards him, resting near him as your gaze turned curious, "It's been driving me crazy." He suddenly blurted out, feeling a little alarmed at the way his heart was hammering from how close your hand was towards him.

"Yeah?" You looked at him curiously, crossing your legs so your foot just lightly grazed against his exposed skin. He inhaled sharply, swearing at the spark that traveled up his spine, "How come?"

"I'm, uh," He paused for a moment, trying to decide if his next thoughts were appropriate or not. He bit his bottom lip, deciding that you had asked after all, "I don't know. No one seems interested I guess."

"They're crazy," You brushed his worries off as you gripped his wrist, giving him a soft squeeze that left his insides flipped, "You're sweet. They don't know what they're missing. Being single isn't too bad though." You offered, shrugging your shoulders to make him feel better.

"I really miss pussy," He spit out again, horrified by his own reaction as he felt his cheeks flush, "Like desperately." He added a second later, his heart thumping against his bones as you looked at him surprised. You giggled again, looking like you were debating something before you decided to speak again.

"Toys are nice," You said softly as you fumbled your fingers together, "But sometimes I really miss the real deal." You couldn't look at him as you spoke, but he held onto each word regardless.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice suddenly feeling raw by the feelings that were rushing forth inside of him. He chewed on his bottom lip, feeling like he may combust at any moment.

"Mhm," You nodded your head, "I obviously wouldn't change anything, but I get it. It's like, almost feels like a drug you crave you know?" You tried to explain, feeling a little silly for talking about sex with your girlfriend's best friend. You and Steve were friendly, but you wouldn't say you were close despite the fact that you practically lived with them.

"Do you want to feed that craving?" He asked a little hotly, his voice husky and full of want as he watched the way your tongue drifted across your bottom lip. He felt a little feral, wanting to lean across the counter and lick your salvia from your mouth himself.

"What?" You looked at him surprised, your heart lurching in your chest as you were trying to see if you had heard him right. Your heart hammered inside of your chest as your stomach twisted. Steve was handsome. Really handsome. There was no denying that. You knew there had been moments when he'd strutted out shirtless that you had found yourself staring, your eyes drinking in his chest hair and the moles that decorated his skin.

"I know, I know how it sounds," He pleaded with her, sure that he would end up regretting this in the morning, "I just need a taste. No one has to know, I won't ever say anything." He could feel his dick twitching in anticipation, although he was fully prepared to be rejected. It was wrong. He shouldn't be asking you of all people in the first place.

"Steve," You breathed out slowly, feeling hot underneath his intense gaze, "This is wrong." You mumbled but stood to meet his stance regardless. He could feel the tension intensifying between the two of you, knew that you wanted him just as badly.

"I know that," He responded huskily as he drew a fingertip across her cheek, "Just need a taste. Once. It won't ever happen again." He promised her as he pressed his digit into her skin. You inhaled sharply, parting your lips as he stared into your mouth.

"Robin can't find out." You whispered a little softer, feeling guilty for the words that left your lips. Your stomach filled with guilt, but it wasn't enough to overcome the lust that had spread through the rest of your body.

"You can say no," He told her huskily as he knelt between her legs, his fingertips linking around her panties, "Do you want this?" He asked you seriously, giving you the ultimate decision. There was no going back for him.

"Yes," You responded gently, overwhelmed but the look of desperation in his eyes, "I want you, Stevie." You whispered underneath your breath, unable to control the way your body was moving closer to his.

He pressed you against the counter, gripping your soft thigh as he crashed his lips against your own. He swallowed your moans slowly as he dragged his lips against yours, enjoying the taste and feel of it all.

He was aching in his pants, his cock throbbing from how hard he'd grown just being near you. He felt like his skin was on fire, his body lighting into flames the more that he felt your bare skin against his own.

He moved his large hands against your waist, squeezing softly before he dipped his fingertips into the band of your panties. You sighed against his mouth, your fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he savored the feeling of your flesh against his own.

He slid his hands up to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from your mouth for just a moment as he tugged the cloth up over your shoulders. He breathed in hotly, admiring the shape your tits and the curve of your body before he pressed his lips against yours again.

You tasted sweet, like apples and sugar as he slid his tongue slowly inside of your mouth. You were hesitant for a moment, before you pressed your tongue against his just as urgently. He groaned at the feeling of your tongue pressing against his own before he dragged away, licking away the saliva from the corners of your lips.

Your stomach twisted in pleasure, drowning out the guilt as his tongue traced over the curve of your mouth. You swore he must've felt your heart hammering in your chest by the way his large hands squeezed over your tits.

"So pretty," He mumbled as he pulled away for just a moment, his eyes dark and heavy as he examined your features again. He drifted his fingers up towards your chin, holding onto you for a moment as he brushed his thumb across your skin, "You drive me crazy." He admitted, wondering if you knew just how true his words were.

He pecked your lips again before you could say anything else, stealing the breath from your lungs. He pressed a kiss to your chin, then down the curve of your neck as he made his way down to your hips. You breathed in roughly at the feeling of his lips dragging against your skin, your clit throbbing at the anticipation. it was wrong, but it felt so right.

He fell to his knees in front of you, his hair messy and his lips parted as he drew his fingertips teasingly along the band of your panties. Your heart hammered roughly, stalling inside of your chest as he hooked his fingers through the material and slowly dragged them down the length of your legs.

His eyes fell to you, drinking in the look of your wet pussy. He licked his lips, his mouth watering at the smell of your arousal that drifted along his nose. He wanted to bury himself deep inside of you, was desperate to feel you squirming against him. He just needed a taste.

“Wanna taste you so bad,” He whined as he sat on his knees in front of you, his fingers drifting across your thighs, “Your pussy looks so pretty, looks like she tastes so sweet.” He spoked more to himself, feeling like he was in a trance as he dipped a fingertip between your folds.

He groaned at the slick feeling, at how warm and wet you felt as he slowly explored you with his fingertip. Your body twitched and you gasped, watching the intense way he was observing you.

He pressed his finger against your clit, pressing down softly as he rolled it around in a soft circle. You moaned as you spread your legs a little further, moaning at the warm sparks that spread through your body.

He pulled away, looking up at you with hazy eyes as he slowly pressed his finger inside of his mouth. He groaned as he tasted you, sighing deeply as he circled his tongue along his fingertip. He quickly pulled away, spreading your legs wider as he positioned himself between your thighs. He was too needy to tease you as his cock began to throb hard in anticipation.

He dragged his tongue between your folds achingly slow, savoring each little moment as he curled his tongue slowly back up towards your clit. You whined, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as you spasmed around him.

A soft whimper left his mouth as he enjoyed the taste of you as he swiped his tongue through your folds again. He pressed his mouth against your folds, puckering his lips as he kissed at your cunt.

Your body felt warm, tingles racing up your spine as he dipped his tongue lower and began to trace it around your hole. You gaped, struggling to keep your voice quiet as he curled his tongue deep inside of your fluttering hole.

“Stevie,” You whined as your thighs shook, your eyes fluttering as he lapped at you liked a starving man. Your heart fluttered, wondering if he was by the way his eyes met yours quickly. They were dark, dilated as he dragged his tongue back up towards your clit, “Jesus.” You cried out, squirming as your hips began to move on their own.

He placed another quick kiss against your clit before he dipped back down again, teasingly licking at your aching hole. Your motions became uncontrollably as you began to rut against his face messily, though by the sounds that he made it seemed like he enjoyed it even more.

His nose dug into your clit with his motions, pressing it against you repeatedly as you continued to rock your cunt against his eager tongue. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you tightly as soft groans fell from his mouth. He wasn’t touching himself, but moaned and groaned like he was getting himself off from the taste of you.

Your body felt like it was bursting into flames, spreading up the curve of your spine and way down to the tips of your toes. You dug your fingers deeper into his brown locks, clinging to him as he buried his face deeper into your cunt.

He curled his tongue inside of you, flicking it against your walls as you fluttered around him. It took everything in you to stay quiet, to keep from crying out as his nose continually hit against your clit. it was enough to drive you over the edge, to send your hips rocking up against his tongue one last time.

"Fuck, fuck," You did cry out this time, your moans filling the quiet apartment as his fingertips dug deep into your flesh. You moaned loudly, your eyes rolling back as your nipples grew hard from the sudden breeze that hit you, "Oh, God. Oh Steve." You sighed, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as you trembled around him.

His movements became more frantic as he licked away your cum, slowly dragging it through his mouth before he swallowed it all. He devoured you, feeling as though he'd never had something so sweet on his tongue before. He feared he'd never taste anything as good again, that he would forever be craving the feeling of you on his mouth.

"Let me fuck you," He begged as he clawed at your hips, "It'll feel so much better than any toy." He spoke honestly as he dragged you down towards him, his body feeling hot as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You moaned, your clit still sensitive from your orgasm as you pressed yourself against him. You pressed your lips against his, licking away the taste of yourself on his tongue as he desperately rocked his hips forward.

"Steve," You whined, rolling your hips against his clothed cock as you tangled your fingers through his hair, "It's wrong. I shouldn't want you like this." You whimpered but could feel your walls breaking down at the feeling of just how long and thick his cock was. It really had been a long time.

"Just wanna feel your pussy around me," He urged, looking all too desperate as he groaned at the wet way your cunt slid against him, "Please. Please it doesn't ever have to happen again." He nodded his head, doing whatever he could to reassure you.

"Okay," You wiggled off of him, falling onto your backside as you spread your legs wide. He drank in the image of you spread for him again, his mouth watering as he positioned himself between your legs. He roughly tugged down his pajama pants, barely giving you any time to look before he was gripping his thick girth and tapping his tip against your clit, "Jesus, Stevie. Need you so bad." You whispered, spreading your legs wider as he pressed his tip inside of your wet hole.

"God," He groaned, fighting the urge to shut his eyes from how good you felt wrapped around his cock. Your pussy squeezed him perfectly, was warm and wet as he slowly filled you to the brim. He admired the way your cunt hugged him, how your lips parted and a silent moan left your lips, "So perfect. You're so perfect." He spit out, unable to help himself as he balanced himself on his palms near your shoulders.

He gasped, pleasure shooting up his spine as he bottomed out inside of you. HIs balls fit snuggly against your skin as you took him easily, your mind swirling in pleasure as you suddenly found it hard to breath. Steve was big. Bigger than any of the toys Robin had ever used on you, bigger than any of the other men you'd been with.

The burn and stretch of him was delicious. It made your lips curl into a grin, your stomach curling in pleasure as the moans rolled off of your tongue. You dug your nails into his shoulder blades, whining at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that filled your body.

"Oh," You gasped, your eyes rolling back into your head as he slowly dragged his cock out of your fluttering walls and then slammed back in. You cried out a little louder, struggling to stay quiet this time. His cock curved in just the right way to hit against your bundle of nerves with each little motion, "So good. You feel so good." You breathed out, unable to focus on anything else. You couldn't stop, not even if Robin were to stumble out. You were fucked.

Steve was a little louder, whiny and groaning as he slowly rutted his cock in and out of your crying cunt. You were leaking around him, coating his cock and balls in your slick as his thrusts became deeper and harder.

"You're doing so good," He praised you, grunting deeply as his hair fell wildly across his forehead. He groaned, moving a hand towards your hip as he looked down at the bulge against your stomach, "Feel that baby? Look at you, taking my cock so well." He groaned as he pressed against the spot, making you squirm at the intensity of it all.

You dug your nails into his skin a little harder, your lips falling open into bliss as he continued to drag his cock in and out of your fluttering walls. He felt so good, fit inside of you perfectly. You savored the feel of his cock, each ridge and curve as he continued to press your body harder into the floor.

He could feel the pleasure spreading through his body, his cock aching at how tightly your cunt was squeezing along his girth. His forehead fell towards yours as he drank in the feeling of your minty breath fanning his face. He closed his eyes before he blindly pressed his lips against your face, searching for your lips as he did his best to keep you both quiet,

You met his lips with a fierce intensity, moaning at the way your clit was erupting into flames from the way his was continually nudging against your g-spot. You were squirming, your thighs shaking from the white hot pleasure that was spreading deep inside of you.

You kissed him harshly, your tongue sliding against his messily as your teeth brushed against one another's. It was dirty, hot and sweaty as you savored the feeling and sound of his moans on your lips.

The sound of your flesh meeting filled the tiny kitchen, your cunt soaked and squelching along his thick cock. You felt your toes beginning to curl, your mind breaking into hazy pleasure as you clung to him.

"Steve, Steve I-," You shook, crying out as you reached forward to bite down harshly onto his shoulder. You whimpered, shaking as you came around his cock. Your whole body shuddered, your mind broken as all you could do was focus on how good you felt, "God. Oh God."

His breath was hot against the crook of your neck, his groans loud as his thrusts became more sporadic. He pushed into you even deeper, whimpering as he bottomed out once again. He came. his nose brushing against your cheek as his hot, white spunk filled your walls.

You panted against him, dragging your fingertips through his hair as he fell against you. You whimpered, enjoying the feeling of being trapped underneath his weight. You nudged your nose against his neck, breathing in his sweaty musk as his heart beat rapidly against your skin.

He pulled back a second later, his eyes still dark and lustful as he slowly pulled his softening cock from your cunt. You whimpered at the loss, a gasp leaving your mouth a second later at the mess that slid from your hole.

Your body was warm as he spread your legs again, his lips dragging along your stomach before he kissed you lower and lower. You were too tired to protest, your pleasure too deep as he dropped between your legs again.

He dragged his tongue around your hole again, licking away the remnants of his cum before he dragged himself over your tired body. You looked up at him, eyes wide in lust as he slowly pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth again.

You dragged his cum from his tongue, licking it away gleefully as you held onto the back of his neck. You were still sore, overstimulated and far too sensitive but your hips still rocked forward against his.

"You're so good," He cooed, pulling away slowly to stare down at you. His heart was still hammering in the same manner, and he felt a sense of dread filling him. This wouldn't be the last time with you, he was sure of it, "Our little secret?"

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 16: Angst-Themed (Saturday Sentence Starters)

wc: 1k | Rated: T | cw: Steve’s parents are arguing (he is overhearing it briefly but there are some descriptions of yelling), toxic family dynamics, unstable marriage, cheating

Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unstable Marriage, Toxic Family Dynamics, Cheating

“I don’t want to fight with you, Caroline,” Steve hears his father bellow from downstairs, “Not tonight.”

He snaps his comic closed and tosses it on the floor.

Steve has no idea what his parents are arguing about. Hell, they don’t even need an excuse these days, he thinks. Someone can so much as fart and it will start a goddamn screaming match.

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the holidays and his parents are both off work until the beginning of the New Year. It’s snowing heavy out so they can’t go down to the Martens’ house – their best friends-come-buffer zones.

“Oh, John!” his mother chides before there is a lower muffle that he can’t quite make out.

While being hard of hearing allows him not to hear anything below a shout, the broken argument is still frustrating.

His parents might not need an excuse to fight, but he’d still like to know what it’s about. Gain intel for the inevitable coming days of being stuck in the middle.

Steve has a few guesses as to what it could be.

His mother bought a new car with her Christmas bonus finally topping up her bank account and thus justifying an indulgent and expensive purchase. His father always hates that.

Steve smirks.

If his father didn’t like that kind of independence, why did he marry a high-paid lawyer?

But, the more likely scenario considering his father’s apparent insistence he ‘doesn’t want to fight’ is that he is cheating again.

Cindy, his secretary, or someone new – take your pick.

The telltale signs have been there for a month or two. A renewed cheery attitude, longer office hours, a fresh haircut and new clothes.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it might be a little bit of a motivator behind his mother’s car purchase too – 

“ – Cindy!” his mother shrieks.

Yep, there it is.

Steve rolls off the bed, planting his feet on the carpet right by his shoes.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, scooping up his keys and wallet from the nightstand.

He’s just about halfway to Forest Hills, driving at a snail’s pace because he can’t see for snow, when he begins to regret his decision to leave the house.

Maybe he shouldn’t just barge in on the Munsons unannounced. Like sure, his friendship with Eddie is… teetering on not being entirely platonic. But this might be too much.

He always thought it was too much when he’d walk down to stay at Carol Perkins’ house for an impromptu sleepover. And there was always this awkward, knowing going on with the Wheeler’s when he was dating Nancy and spending a lot of time just hanging about.

Lingering for too long in the kitchen chatting to Karen or watching a game with Ted until the guy started snoring too loud to hear the commentators.

It was all there but largely unspoken.

Only Robin knows the details. And even then, he’s sure that her father’s friendliness towards him was partly due to his daughter telling him all about the trouble at the ‘ol Harrington house. He doesn’t blame his best friend for likely doing so. And he doesn’t consider it blabbing, either. Robin’s parents – her whole family – are amazing.

But some of his parent’s shit is stupid at best, hard to take at worst.

And he is scared to let Eddie in on it.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

Being a Harrington is too much.

Wayne answers the door with a cup of cocoa that seems glued to his left hand in winter.

“Steve,” he says, voice gruff as ever despite a warm smile.

“Hi,” he replies, looking down at his snow-covered boots, “Eddie in?”

Of course, he’s in, his van is parked outside.

Steve can feel the warmth from inside the trailer. See the twinkle of lights from the Munson’s small, but heavily-decorated, Christmas tree. The smell of cocoa overpowering the ever-present hint of cigarettes.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls over his shoulder, “Steve’s here.”

In a flash, Eddie runs to the front door and practically bumps into his uncle.

“Come in!” he insists, wide-eyed as he looks past his shoulder at the falling snow.

And before Steve can even step in, Eddie is pulling him by his parka sleeve. He only just manages to scrape off his boots on the ‘Home Sweet Home’ adorned welcome mat.

“What some cocoa?” Eddie offers, eliciting a grumble from Wayne.

“I asked if you wanted some,” he chides.

“But Steve might want some,” Eddie grins.

“How about I heat up a pot now, and whoever wants some’s got it?” Wayne suggests, pursing his lips at Eddie and moving to the stove before his nephew can make any more requests.

“Follow me,” Eddie says, grabbing his hand, “I made cookies.”

He wiggles his brows and begins leading Steve to the kitchen.

As he is pulled along, Steve tries not to think about the fact that they are holding hands. Or how he wishes his fifteen-minute-ago Self had thought to bring an overnight bag and allowed himself to assume the Munsons would allow him to stay the night.

But it might be even harder to stop himself from squeezing his friend’s hand and lacing his fingers with Eddie’s.

Eddie lets go of his hand to gesture to the tray of Christmas-themed shapes, all looking a little too dark for gingerbread as they rest on the kitchen island.

“Pick one, Big Boy,” Eddie beams.

Steve reaches for a reindeer, flexing his fingers as he goes and commits the feeling of Eddie’s rings to memory.

“No!” Eddie shrieks, lightly smacking his hand enough that he drops it, leaving the cookie to snap in half as it falls back onto the tray, “His antlers are broken.”

“Christ, boy!” Wayne curses, stirring the pot on the stovetop.

Okay, a tree then…

“The star is missing!”

A bell?

“That was already snapped in half when I got them out of the oven”, Eddie admits with a tight-lipped smile.

Steve places his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes. To him, they all look at least a little crumbly – some he would even describe as lightly charred.

“How about you pick one for me then, Betty Crocker?” he chuckles.

Eddie giggles, twirling a lock of his hair as he carefully considers the tray of mostly broken, dry cookies.

He watches Eddie for a long enough time that Wayne pushes a mug into his hand, the warmth of Eddie’s hand remaining in place due to the heat of the cocoa. It’s a Chicago Cubs mug, one that he finds himself holding at some point each time he is here as if Wayne considers it Steve’s own.

He smiles for the first time in three days.

[morganbritton132]

Do you think Eddie and Steve have ever fallen victim to the weird trend of people calling the police to ‘save’ famous people? Like some fans of his tiktok became convinced Steve was holding him hostage after making 2+2=5 when they googled up Billy’s name

This is such an interesting question because I could see it going both ways.

There are always going to be people that look at Eddie and see wanted posters. There are people who will never be convinced that he didn’t commit those murders, and they’re only ever going to see a victim in Steve because of it.

Steve is clumsy. He has a head injury and issues with balance, and sometimes he gets confused. Sometimes he gets bruised. He’s cut his hand in the middle of a seizure and needed stitches. He’s broken his ankle and walked on it for an entire day.

Sometimes nurses and doctors see his injury and see his medical history, and then they see the scruffy guy calling himself his husband, and they ask him to step outside the room. They ask Steve questions and it always takes him a second to realize what they’re trying to get at because domestic abuse is not something that he can attach to Eddie in any capacity.

And Steve will get angry about it. How dare they think such a thing? How could they look at Eddie and see how much love he holds in his heart and think that he would ever hurt Steve?

 

I think that Eddie is always going to have some fans that see Steve as this bad guy that does not deserve to be with him. There is nothing that he will ever do that can change that. They are just angry that Eddie is with someone other than them.

I can definitely see them hearing about all the bad shit that went down in Hawkins and seeing Steve’s connection to some of it – The coverup story for Starcourt paints Robin and Steve as two dedicated retail employees that saved a bunch of children from a fire – and then take that extra step to twist it into something so much worse.

The kid that went missing in Hawkins in 1983 just so happened to be the little brother of the guy that stole Steve’s high school girlfriend? That’s interesting. That’s suspicious.

And his high school bully (that he apparently hit with a car!) just so happened to die in a fire at his place of work? Weird.

And despite the fact that the police and an angry mob couldn’t find Eddie, Steve Harrington – a video rental employee – happened to find him?

You pair the horror story that was Hawkins in the eighties up with Eddie’s scars and all the off-hand jokes people have made on live-streams about Steve’s sleepwalking, or with Steve’s reactions to being scared and you can make a convincing case for anything.

Eddie ends a live-stream early one night at Steve’s request and then an hour later, they’re getting a knock on the door by two police officers doing a welfare check.

Steve and Eddie are obviously confused, and Steve is really disheartened when one of the officers lets it slip that the person calling was concerned because of a live-stream.

It puts a damper on the date night he’d set up for them in the living room and he doesn’t really want to continue it after the cops leave. Eddie tries to find the bright side of the situation, “Babe, it’s nothing. It’s not like it’ll be in the papers.”

“They think I hurt you,” Steve says. “They – your fans think that I would – that I’d ever – and they’re not wrong, technically. I have hurt you before.”

“And I nearly cut your throat with a broken glass bottle,” Eddie replies, ignoring the way Steve scoffs at him. “Anything that you’ve ever done because you were confused or lost in your head, or sleepwalking doesn’t count. You weren’t all here and it’s not your fault if you aren’t aware of what you’re doing, right? And anyways, I’m typically bothering you.”

“You’re blaming yourself for me hurting you?”

“No, I’m – No. I’m not,” Eddie clarifies. “I am saying that I don’t always come into the situation knowing what’s going on and sometimes I make it worse. Sure, I’ve gotten a bit of a hit. You kick in your sleep. But you have never hurt me.”

“Is it El’s fault when the cabinets rattle when she has a nightmare?” Eddie continues because it’s clear that Steve does not agree with him. “Or that time she got so scared that all the lightbulbs shattered? You got cut when that happened, remember? You have a scar. Is that her fault?”

“That’s different. She can’t-“

“And neither can you,” Eddie says. “I’m telling you now, Stevie. You know what my life was like before I moved in with Wayne. I will never be in a situation like that again. So, if I was than I would not be here, but I am here because you have never done anything to hurt me, okay?”

[fearlessreid]

Bad Idea, right?

a/n: yeah yeah steve won the poll, enjoy.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you and king steve have been broken up for 6 months, will that distaste you feel for him manifest into sexual tension when you see him at a party?

warnings: SMUT 18+. swearing. unprotected sex (pls wrap it up, especially with your ex) piv sex

2K words (not proofread)

obv based off of olivia’s song

Six months ago I broke up with ‘king steve’, he would tell you that it's because there was a ‘lack of chemistry’ which we all know is a lie, the real reason is because all he could care about was partying and his stupid, stupid hair.

Im sitting at my vanity applying lip gloss, getting ready for another one of carol perkins end of year summer kickoff parties, it's honestly just an excuse for the jocks to hook up with the band geeks and then blame it on the alcohol.

“Okay so Tommy is going to be there, despite it being carols party and they broke up right after prom” my best friend, heather rants. I nod my head and continue applying my makeup. Heather continues “But Tommy told me to keep an eye out for him so I think he wants to hook up and- you are so not listening”

I sigh “I am, I just have bigger things to worry about” I say and heather scoffs “right because worrying about being at a party with steve harrington for the first time in months is so important” she sasses and I roll my eyes.

“Oh please like I could give a shit about king steve and his hair that would explode if I held a lighter to it”. Heather laughs “you totally give a shit,” “nope now hand me the hairspray”

At the party, I stand by a staircase, nursing a cup of jungle juice in my hand, watching across the room as Heather has her tongue down tommys throat.

A hand taps my shoulder and I look at the culprit. Peter Marco, the cute boy from my algebra class, once upon a time, long before Steve harrington, I had a crush on peter, that crush being fizzled out by the charm of king steve.

He smiles, his dimple showing “hey, haven't seen you in a hot second” he says and i smile back, “yeah, I took a break from the whole party thing”. For the next half an hour, I talked with Peter, he's cute and he's funny, he's the type of guy I should want.

Our peaceful conversations get interrupted by a boy yelling “king steve is in the building” and everyone starts chanting and cheering. I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen, I did not need this.

I down at least 3 more cups of jungle juice, the sugar is rotting my teeth and the alcohol is going right into my bloodstream, it's only 10:00 pm and I am completely wasted.

I walk to go use the bathroom. My head is spinning. I bump into someone and the next thing I can comprehend is their drink now on my dress, my light pink dress. I look up and his eyes burn into mine, the man of the hour, Steven William Harrington.

“You absolute idiot look what you did” I yell. I pushed past him and ended up in the second floor bathroom. I locked the door and took a wet towel to try to scrub the drink out of my dress.

There's a knock at the door. “Occupied” I called out and took a seat on the toilet seat. “Open up” Steve calls from the other side of the door. I roll my eyes “go away” I yell and go back to scrubbing at my dress.

“I brought a tide stick, let me in” he says, an undertone of annoyance. I hesitantly open the door and let him in. He comes in and closes the door.

I sit back down on the toilet seat and he bends down on his knees and tries to take out the stain with the tide stick. It doesn't work and I sigh frustratedly. “I'll pay for dry cleaning, don't get your panties in a twist”

His comment makes me scoff “you see? Comments like those are why I dumped your ass”. “You're wasted” he says and i laugh “so what”, he sighs “so i'm taking you home, I haven't drank anything tonight”

I shake my head “i'm not going anywhere with you, plus im here with heather”. Now it's steves turn to laugh “heather left with tommy like 15 minutes ago, let me take you home, no funny business, i promise”

I get into his car and we drive in silence and we pass my street “steve that was my street “what the fuck”, he smiles and shakes his head “youre parents would kill you if you showed up this sloshed, and i meant what i said, no funny business”

My eyes burn into him “fine”

I walk into the Harrington home and the memories start flooding in, the good and the bad. Steve guides me to his room and lays me on the bed. “You'll take the bed, I'm staying in the guest room” and explains. “Stay” I basically beg

I make room for him on the bed and he lays next to me. He's taken off his shirt and changed into his pyjama pants and I steal one of his shirts to sleep in.

All I can notice is his pants low on his hips, his toned v line. my thighs press together. The rational part of my brain is trying to talk but all im hearing is ‘blah blah blah’

I can feel Steve's eyes on me,he's right next to me, I feel the heat of his body lingering on mine, the tension is unbearable.

“Fuck it” i mutter under my breath, i straddle steves hips and his eyes widen “what are you doin-” i cut him off by placing my lips on his, he tenses but melts into the kiss, his hands finding my waist.

The kiss heats up as I grind my hips into his. Steve pulls away and I whine. “You are drunk, we can't” he says and i shake my head “i sobered the minute i walked into this house” i say and peck his lips.

Steve contemplates and is at a mental war with himself. He mutters a “fuck it” and smashes his lips back into mine and my hips immediately find his again and he lets out a groan.

“This is such a bad idea” I mutter against his lips. He flips us so he's on top and pushes my shirt up and kisses down my chest and stomach until he reaches the waistband on my underwear. “Steve please we don't have time for that just put it in me” I beg, Steve nods and takes off his sleep plants to reveal his cock.

My mouth waters at the sight “fuck ive missed your cock so much”, steve smirks and takes off my underwear to reveal my glistening cunt. He groans at the sight and lines up his cock with my folds as he rubs the tip of his cock through them.

My back arches as I moan “please steve, no teasing”. He slides it slowly into me and we both moan at the feeling. He allows me to adjust until I give him the okay. He pumps slowly and I wrap my legs around his waist bringing him closer. It shouldn't feel this intimate, I can't hear my thoughts screaming. This is a bad idea.

His thrusts get sloppy. Signalling that he's close and he sneaks his hand down to my clit and starts rubbing at the nub.

Steve cums first, his hips stuttering and he breathes heavily as he cums, I finish seconds after him, my body tensing with pleasure.

As we both come down from our highs, my thoughts run wild, what the hell just happened.

Steve pulls out of me and watches his cum drip out of me. As the post orgasm haze dissipates my eyes widen “steve we forgot to use a condom”

He freezes and panic sets into his face “oh fuck”

[sparkle-fiend]

Truth or Dare, part 2

Continued from this post, inspired by a prompt by @kedreeva

———————-

Eddie watches Robin jump up to chase after her best friend. Everyone else is left staring, wide-eyed and stunned into silence. It makes his skin itch.

He exhales into his cupped palm and takes an exaggerated sniff. “Guess I shouldn’t have had those onions for lunch, huh?”

It doesn’t get much of a laugh. With a shrug, he drops back down to his place on the floor, folding his long legs underneath him. He feels off-balance, caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting Steve to react that badly.

He plucks at his jeans, worrying the frayed edge of the hole over his right knee, and chances a glance at Gareth. His friend is staring at him with one eyebrow raised pointedly, as if to say See? I told you so.

Which is true. Gareth has been trying to convince him to stay away from Steve Harrington ever since the first day he walked into Eddie’s hospital room and found the other boy sitting by his bedside. Eddie slouches, shoulders curling inward as he looks away. The hole in his jeans starts to unravel a little wider.

Vickie looks uncomfortable. “Should we go after them?”

Gareth snorts rudely. Jeff, ever the peacekeeper, shoots him a warning look and says, “I think maybe we should keep playing. I’m sure they’ll come back when they’re ready.”

The only one that comes back is Robin, sliding into her place in the circle with downcast eyes. Vickie leans over to whisper something in her ear, and Robin shakes her head. She’s clearly upset. 

“Steve just had a, uh… migraine. It came on really quickly, so he had to go home.”

She is such a bad liar.

They try to keep playing a few more rounds, but nobody’s heart is in it anymore. Claire is the first to leave, muttering goodbye to Vickie and ignoring the rest of them. It’s pretty clear she was only suffering their presence to try and get close to Steve.

Good riddance, Eddie thinks with a sneer. He’d barely restrained himself from dumping punch all over the presumptuous little flute player. She really had some nerve - allll the girls had a crush on King Steeeeeve…

Nauseating.

Vickie makes a show of checking her watch next. “I guess it is getting late. My mom wanted me home by 11.”

“Yeah, we should go too,” Eddie says. He waves goodbye to the girls and heads for the door at a fast clip, the rest of the guys following without question.

It seems cooler outside, away from the press of bodies and the stifling air – thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol. Eddie takes a deep breath. Someone’s been smoking nearby, which makes him crave a cigarette of his own.

“I don’t think we should drive yet,” Jeff says. “That punch was pretty strong. Why don’t we walk down to the diner and get some fries?”

It’s a good idea, so they set off down the sidewalk. Gareth waits for Dave and Jeff to pull ahead a little before drifting close enough to nudge Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that man. I really hoped he would prove me wrong, but…”

Eddie nods, fishing the crumpled pack of Camels out of his back pocket. Steve’s not the guy Eddie thought he was – it’s disappointing, to say the least. If that was his reaction to kissing a guy on a dare, then god knows how he would respond if he ever found out Eddie’s gay.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he clamps a cigarette between his lips, patting his pockets for his lighter.

“But hey, at least you know he’s not worth your time now, right? Better to find out before you fell ass over tits and got your heart broken.”

Too late for that Gare-bear… too late for that.

“Sure.”

Eddie smokes his cigarette, avoiding any further conversation. When they reach the diner, he orders some cheese fries, picking off the crispy bits of cheese before he starts shoving food around the plate to make it look like he’s eating. The guys chat about band practice and the summer D&D campaign, but Eddie doesn’t have much to add.

He keeps replaying the Truth or Dare game in his head. He’s positive he didn’t let anything slip. Eddie is an experienced DM – he’s good at controlling his expressions. He never gives anything away when his players do something to throw him off guard; and he’s sure he didn’t give anything away tonight. So it can’t be his inconvenient crush that made Steve uncomfortable.

Everything was lighthearted and casual… and Steve seemed okay with it at first. Shit, the way he was staring at Eddie’s mouth and licking his lips, it almost seemed like he was into it. Eddie nearly lost it at that point – he had to cover by pretending to swoon when he felt himself start to blush.

Then Eddie moved in for the actual kiss, and Steve pushed him away. He looked at Eddie with this… awful expression on his face and said he couldn’t do it. 

Eddie assumed at the time that Steve lost his nerve and got grossed out. But when he pictures the look on Steve’s face in that moment, it doesn’t seem right. What was that expression?

The guys finish up and they all pay for their food. Gareth is clearly still concerned, shooting worried little glances his way as they walk, so Eddie stays between Jeff and Dave on the way back to the cars.

He appreciates his friend’s concern, and he knows Gareth means well, but he really just wants to go home and lick his wounds in private.

Eddie makes it to his van and takes off while Jeff and Gareth are debating whose turn it is to drive Dave home. He cranks the stereo louder than usual, trying to drown out his thoughts with some Black Sabbath, singing along until his voice cracks. His ears are still ringing a little when he creeps into the silent house, navigating by the light Wayne left on in the kitchen.

With the money from the government payout, his uncle doesn’t have to work nights anymore – which means for the first time in his life, Eddie has to be careful not to wake the old man up when he comes home late. He kicks off his Reeboks at the door and tiptoes up the stairs, skipping the creaky step.

He goes through his nighttime routine on autopilot: brushing his teeth, massaging lotion into all his scars, and braiding back his hair. To prevent split ends - a tip he got from Steve “the Hair” Harrington himself (Eddie can’t escape him – thoughts of Steve permeate every aspect of his life at this point).

He changes into an old pair of pajama pants and flops onto the bed, arms and legs stretched out like a starfish. Sleep, he thinks, shutting his eyes firmly. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

Thirty minutes later, he’s still staring up at his shadowed ceiling.

Steve looked… sad. That’s what it was. He looked sad and pained when he said, “I can’t do this.” And he said something else…

Not like this.

Not like this? But that… would imply it was the situation that was the problem. Right? Not the kissing. 

“Holy shit!” Eddie yelps, sitting upright so fast his side twinges. He claps a hand over his mouth to prevent any further outbursts. 

He assumed the worst, because that’s what he always does – better to be prepared then disappointed; that’s been his motto for years. But Steve didn’t storm off because he was homophobic.

He wanted to kiss Eddie! He must have – just not in front of all their friends. Not as part of a game, or as a joke. 

Eddie jumps out of bed and starts to pace, filled with a restless, almost manic energy. He’s worried about Steve - wishing he’d gone after the other boy right away, at the party. Is he still upset? He looked upset.

Eddie considers the phone – he even picks up the receiver and starts to dial Steve’s number, before he gets a grip and hangs up. It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, he can’t call this late; Steve would probably panic and assume someone had been hurt. 

When he can’t take it anymore, Eddie decides to go for a drive. He grabs Wayne’s keys instead of his own – the truck is quieter than his old rattletrap of a van, and less conspicuous. He drives aimlessly, taking random side-streets and circling cul-de-sacs; only to wind up in front of Steve’s house.

There are lights on inside.

Eddie pulls into the driveway and parks the truck. He contemplates the house for a while, nearly changing his mind twice before he finally gets out and makes his way to the front door. He knocks – not too loudly, just in case Steve is sleeping (even though the lights are on). 

It takes less than a minute for Steve to come to the door; long enough for Eddie to realize he’s still in his pajamas – too fast for him to chicken out and run back to the truck.

Steve looks exhausted: his hair is messier than Eddie’s ever seen it before, and the soft skin around his eyes appears swollen and tender. It hurts Eddie’s heart to see it.

Steve watches him cautiously. “Eddie? What are you doing here – is everything okay?”

“You said… not like this,” Eddie says abruptly. He cringes at the blunt approach – he’s usually better at thinking on his feet than this.

“Eddie…”

“I just want to understand Steve. Please? What did you mean?”

Steve gnaws at his bottom lip before sighing heavily. “I like you Eddie. Like, romantically. I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks now. But I couldn’t do it… if it wasn’t for real.” He drags his hands roughly through his hair, mussing it up even more. “I’m so tired of being King Steve – pretending like meaningless sex and drunk make outs are enough, falling in love with people who don’t love me back… I can’t do it anymore.”

Eddie is reeling. He doesn’t know what to focus on first. Steve likes him? Romantically?! And he’s wanted to kiss him for weeks. Eddie might need to sit down.

Steve is chewing at his lip again – he’ll draw blood if he keeps it up. He looks so hesitant, so uncharacteristically insecure. 

Because you’re standing here like an idiot after he spilled his heart out to you, Eddie thinks. Say something!

“Steve… Truth or Dare.”

“What?”

“Pick one.”

Steve looks like he’s thinking about shutting the door in Eddie’s face. Finally he says, “Truth,” in a grudging tone.

According to the game, Eddie should ask Steve a question. But Steve has been truthful enough tonight – it’s Eddie’s turn now. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you a lot longer than just a few weeks. Probably since I saw you tear that demobat apart. But it was in the hospital - when you came to visit every day, looking after me and Max and the rest of the kids – I think that’s when I fell in love.”

The tiniest little, “Oh,” escapes Steve’s mouth. Eddie has a few seconds to worry that the love confession was too much - and then a smile replaces Steve’s look of shock, dawning bright and beautiful.

There’s no more pretense required when they come together, lips meeting softly.

Eddie is so glad that Steve stopped him at the party. Because now they have this moment, this perfect moment – standing in the silvered dark, two souls alone together under the moon. He gets to enjoy the warm press of Steve’s lips against his without any prying eyes or teasing; gets to slide his fingers daringly under the hem of Steve’s thin sleep shirt.

Steve breaks the kiss with a gasp of laughter when Eddie hits a ticklish spot just below his ribs. They pause to smile at one another, foreheads pressed together.

“Truth or Dare,” Steve says.

“Well, truth has been a pretty good choice so far…”

Steve reaches up to press a gentle palm against Eddie’s cheek, scraping his thumb over the stubble. “I love you too.”

Truth or Dare is officially Eddie’s new favorite game.

————————-

Tag list (I tried to include everyone that requested a tag - apologies if I missed anyone)

@manycoloureddays @vecnuthy @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @proficientatfreakness @sadcanadianwinter @farfaras @makewavesandwar @grtwdsmwhr @xwildangel @electrick-marionnett @swimmingbirdrunningrock

[salamandergoo]

@strangerthingswritersguild Prompt: “I can’t lose you”

Carol hit the brakes a little harder than necessary as she pulled up to the Harrington house.  It looked the same way it always did, imposing and empty.  Tommy hissed a curse as he jerked forward.  "Jesus, Care."

"Don't be a wuss."  She reached over to grab her purse from the floor by his feet.  "Come on, you've been dragging your feet all day, it's time to talk to him."

"He's a dick, we don't have to talk to him!"

"He was my friend first and I say we do.  You've been pouting and I miss him."  She hopped out and smoothed down her sweater, hands on her hips as she waited for him to make his way around the truck.  "Come on!"

"I'm coming, fuck."  He was pouting.  Carol rolled her eyes and walked past the familiar BMW and up to the front door.  She knocked firmly three times and waited.  "He's not here, let's go."

She huffed and reached to grab Tommy's arm.  "Give it a second.  God, you're impatient."

She wanted to turn tail and run too.  She'd been best friends with Steve since first grade, when he'd been the quiet kid in the back of the room.  His hair had always been so pretty, she'd thought it was prettier than hers.  She'd started sitting next to him, and they'd been inseparable ever since.  Tommy had come around a year later, and then the three of them were always together.  Until this last week after the creep Byers had knocked Steve around and fucked something up.

She crossed her arms over her chest and rocked on her heels a few times, head jerking up when the door opened.  "You look like shit," Tommy said, voice softer than he usually let it get.

And Steve did kind of look like shit.  His bruises were mostly yellow now, and she could see where he'd been picking the scabs on his lip and nose.  And the bags under his eyes were dark.  She knew he'd use concealer over them when they got bad, when his dad was home for extended periods of time mostly, but she knew his parents weren't due home for another couple weeks at least.  Steve stared at them for a long moment before started to close the door.

"Hey!"  She jerked out her arm and tried to catch the door, hissing when it crushed her fingers against the door frame.  "Ow, fuck!"

The door flew back open, Steve reaching out to cradle her hand in his.  "Shit, I'm so sorry Carrie..."

"It's fine, It's fine."  She grimaced.  It wasn't broken, she'd broken enough fingers and toes as a cheerleader to know that, but it hurt.  "Can I get some ice for this?"

"Yeah, come on."  He glanced at Tommy warily before turning and leading them inside.  They'd been here enough times that she could probably navigate the house blind.  Steve kept it uncluttered enough that she wouldn't even trip.

She took off her shoes at the door, more on instinct than anything else, Tommy copying her.  It was quiet in the house.  They'd usually be laughing or yelling over each other or watching a movie, filling the space with noise.  It felt unsettling.  All the curtains were drawn, making it feel later than late afternoon.  She perched herself on the counter and held out a hand to take the ice pack Steve offered.  She pressed it against her hand and when it was quiet for too long, when it felt like she could hear the throbbing ache in her hand, she jerked out a leg to kick Tommy.  "He has something to say."

"I do?"  He squinted at her and yelped when she kicked him harder.  "Ow, Jesus, okay."  He looked at Steve with the same sour expression he'd been wearing all week.  "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry, okay?  Can we just go back to normal?"

Steve let out a sharp little laugh.  "Go back to normal?  No!  Nothing is normal anymore, man.  We can't just go back to what we were."

"What's that mean?"  Carol frowned, studying him.  "Steve, did something happen?  Is it creepy Byers?"

"No, it's not- Jonathan didn't do anything, okay?"  He grimaced.  "The pictures were creepy, but Nancy forgave him, and like, they were of her, not me, so I guess it's fine."  He crossed his arms in the way that looked like he was hugging himself instead of being angry.  "It want anything he did."

"He beat you up!"  Tommy threw his arms wide, nearly poking Carol in the eye.  "And who cares if that slut forgave him?  She's sleeping with him, of course she did.  You don't have to."

"She's not sleeping with him."  Steve curled in tighter on himself and it looked like he would lash out if they kept poking.  "It was a misunderstanding.  Her little brother is friends with his brother and they'd been looking for him.  She's not a slut, we shouldn't have done that.  I didn't want to do that."

Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets and took them back out, seeming unsure of what to do with them.  He was going to lash out too.  And Carol didn't want that to happen.

"Yeah, okay.  It wasn't cool of us to call her a slut, we fucked up," she conceded.  "Not sure how we got away with that," she admitted.  "I kind of expected Chief Hopper to call Mr. Hagan."

"He was... preoccupied."

"Yeah, yeah, finding the Byers brat, I know."  She narrowed her eyes.  "And Nancy...?"

"I fucked up my chances with her.  Wouldn't be surprised if she never looks at me again.  Or she wants to be friends?  She's giving mixed signals."  Steve untensed just a little.  Good.  That was good.  "I apologized to Jonathan.  I shouldn't have talked shit about his family.  I mean, everyone knows his dad sucked.  And I called him a... well."  Steve leaned against the counter.  "I broke his camera, man."

Tommy frowned.  "He.. had it coming though."

"Maybe.  Maybe.  But it's not like he can get a new one.  It's not like when we broke your bike after running into that fence when we were twelve, like, your parents got you a new one.  Jonathan works so they can pay the gas bill and for groceries, you know?"

Tommy just about snarled until Carol put a hand on her shoulder.  "So now that freak is your best friend?  What about us?"

"What about us, Tommy?  You made it pretty fucking clear that we-"

"Hey."  Carol cut in, holding up her hands.  "Look, you apologized to Byers.  That's fine, you can do that.  But we're trying to apologize to you.  Are we really throwing away the last ten years over this?  We... miss you, Stevie.  We can't lose you, not like this.  We haven't been apart this long since... god, since your parents made you go to New York all summer in middle school."

"I don't want to be an asshole anymore.  I don't like what we've become.  I've been too afraid to lose you guys, but... I can't keep standing by while you spread rumors about the drama geeks or pushing Munson's friends around."

Carol scrunched up her nose.   "It wasn't a rumor, Mandy totally got chlamydia from fucking some dude on vacation, I heard her talking about it in the bathroom."

"And they're fucking dweebs who play that satan game, they don't matter, Steve."  Tommy crossed his arms again, but was notably less agitated.  "And they make fun of us anyway."

"Yes, they do matter.  Okay?  No one's gonna care about who we pushed around in high school once were out of here."  Steve kicked at the ground.  "None of that shit matters, not when-"  He closed his mouth so fast Carol could hear his jaw click.  He shook his head and she leaned in closer.

"Not when... what, Steve?  What happened?"

"I can't tell you."  She almost couldn't hear him.  "I'm not allowed, I... signed these papers."

"That's bullshit."  Carol hopped off the counter.  "Tommy, your dad is a lawyer, anything Steve signed is like, void or whatever."

"That's not how it works."  Tommy took a slow step towards Steve.  "Did someone hurt you?"

"...not exactly."  Steve rolled up the sleeve of his shirt.  There was a stitched up gash in his arm.  "I wish I could tell you.  I can't, though.  They'll... I don't know what they'll do."

Tommy touched Steve's arm, gentler than he was even with Carol.  "Stevie," he whispered.  "We'll... we don't have to be assholes, we can ignore the freaks, okay?"

Steve nodded slowly.  "...okay."

Carol stepped up to Steve's other side and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek.  "What can we do?"

"Nothing."  Steve swallowed and shook his head.  "I just... I want to get through the next few years so we can leave this fucking town."

"Okay."  Tommy pulled him in closer.  "Okay, we'll leave someday.  I promise," he whispered.

Later that night, the three of them tangled in Steve's room like they hadn't been since they were kids, Carol and Tommy made eye contact over Steve's head as he snored softly.  "...thanks," Tommy whispered.  "For making me come over here."

"We weren't going to lose him over something stupid."  Carol shrugged as she held Steve's waist.  "Not after this long."  She sighed.  "Are we really gonna have to, ugh, be nicer?"

"It looks like it.  He's worth it though."

"Yeah."  Carol laid back down with a hum.  "Yeah, he is."

[eddiesguitarskills]

Just A Scratch

Eddie Munson x Reader/Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: one of Jason’s friends is picking on your boyfriend's friend Dustin. Dustin can't keep his mouth shut so ends up aggravating the basketball player more, meaning you have to intervene. One thing leads to another and you get hurt. The last person you expect to be there to help you is your ex-boyfriend Steve.

Content warning: arguments, broken nose, being hurt, a whole lot of angst, jealousy and language. Eddie and Steve really don’t like each-other

Word count: 2k

A/n: let me know if you want a part two I have ideas. I am dyslexic so if some of it doesn’t make sense I apologise

Not prove read

Part 2

You had decided to spend an hour after school in the library catching up on your work, since your boyfriend had distracted you every time you tried to study. So you decided it would be best to be completely alone and the library after school on a Wednesday seemed like the right place. You had gotten more work done in that hour than you had in the last couple of weeks.

Your hand started to cramp from all the writing so you knew it was probably a sign to leave. You walked outside, excited for the fresh air you were sure your skin needed. You were also excited to get home to get ready to see your boyfriend, Eddie. The only problem is as soon as you get outside you hear the mumbles of an argument. You knew it probably wasn’t your place to get involved, until you heard the voice of Dustin Henderson. He was becoming more and more like Eddie by the day. So you knew there was a good chance he was making whatever the situation was, worse for himself.

You walked over and spotted chase who was also a senior getting into the freshman’s face. “Can you at least have a mint before getting that close?” Dustin smirked. You'd know that smile anywhere it was Eddie’s signature. It was the face Eddie usually pulled before he ended up with a black eye. You pushed your way in between the two, surely he wouldn't hit you. “Don’t you think you should pick on someone your size?”. He pushes you out of the way to get back to the freshman, you were blocking. “it’s none of your business”.

Dustin scoffs at him, was he trying to make things worse for himself? Even you wanted to hit him in the head now, to knock some sense into him. “I can see you're starting early on your career as a wife beater”. Shit. Rage is all you can see in Chase’s eyes any hope of Deescalating the situation was gone. He raised his fist to hit Dustin. Instinct took over and you moved in the way, putting your hand up to stop the assault. But you were too late when you hear a crunch in your nose.

Blood pours from your nose but you don't notice, as you’re too enraged. The Jock stumbled back shocked at what he just did. “I'm sorry y/n I didn’t mean to hi-” you cut him off “but you meant to hit him so”. He didn't have a response just silence “ I suggest you leave him alone unless you want me to report you for assaulting me”. He nods awkwardly and shuffles away embarrassed. He felt like such an idiot he didn't mean to hurt you.

Dustin felt really bad, he didn't want you to get hurt because of him. Plus he could handle himself , Chase was nothing on the upside down he thought. “Shit y/n are you okay?” you turn around to glare at the boy. He glumped he had never seen you angry and he knew he was about to be on the receiving end of it. “Oh don’t worry about me, worry about your attitude. I get you th-”. Dustin's eyes widen upon the sight of your face. Your nose didn't look right. How much blood was pouring out didn't look right. “Y/n-”.

Too annoyed you didn't even feel the pain of your nose or feel the blood dripping from your nose. “I’m not finished. I know Eddie seems cool, but even for him there are consequences. Plus Chase is twice your size, how we're you going to fight him?”. You wait for an answer, Dustin is too stunned to speak, what should he do? You rub your hands over your face in annoyance. Ow. That didn't feel right. You had never felt pain like it. You looked at your hand to see it painted with red blood. The sight makes your knees weak and you fall to the ground.

“Omg y/n!” Dustin lowers to your level. You felt tears being to fill your waterline, he couldn't see you cry. You needed to get him away even for a minute, you didn't want him to blame himself. “I’m fine, can you just get me some water please,” you say weakly. He quickly scurried away wanting to do anything to make this right.

A little while after you, you’re sat on bench outside of school. You haven't been able to move as you still feel too dizzy. Your nose was still bleeding but it was a lot slower than before. Your ex-boyfriend pulled up to get Dustin. “I can get Steve to check it. He's good at things like this”. You shake your head biting your lip from the pain this causes. Dustin nods and walks over to Steve’s car getting in. You turn away from the scene so Steve doesn't see you or your nose.

Steve is about to set off when Dustin stops him. “What did you forget this time?” Steve talks to the boy like he is his father. “They are gonna hate me for this but they are already mad so, y/n-”. As soon as your name is mentioned, Steve gets worried. He still cared for you a lot. He just wishes he treated you better when you were together. Then he wouldn't have lost the best thing to happen to him. Without needing to hear anything more, Steve goes over to the bench and taps on your shoulder. Not knowing it's him, you turn around. The last person you wanted to see right now was right in front of you. You try to turn your face but he holds it in place gently but firmly examining it, being careful to avoid your nose.

He honestly felt like he could cry, he had seen hurt yourself from being clumsy, but it was never anything this bad. “ It's just a scratch”. Steve shakes his head. “Don't do that, you're hurt. Stop acting like it's a chore for people to look after you”. Tears pour from your eyes. He doesn't know if he should, especially since you hadn't talked to each other since the break up a few months ago but he had to hug you. You melted into the hug, you needed this. You missed this. After a few moments, Steve broke the hug and got up holding out his hand to you. “I'm gonna drop Dustin off, then we are going to the hospital. You can tell me all about what happened on the way”.

The wait in the emergency room took hours which left you with lots of time to catch up. You missed having Steve in your life. You need a friend like him. You had also told him what happened with Chase which he was really angry about, but tried to keep calm while in the hospital so he didn't get kicked out and could stay with you. It didn’t stop him from complaining to you about Dustin’s new found attitude though “ the kids lucky he had you, I don’t know where he gets that attitude from”. You try to laugh but it hurts too much “I do”. Steve laughs a little too shaking him head “yeah so do I”.

A few hours later Steve was dropping you off at your door. “Thank you” you smile at him. “You don't need to thank me, I'm glad we went. I'm gonna kill Chase for breaking your nose though.” you shook your head a little, pouting at him. “Please don't, you'll adult now, it's an assault on a minor, even if he does deserve it. I don't want you behind a cell”. How could he say no to you? So he agreed, even if all he wanted to do was round-house Chase in the face. “Why will you miss me too much?” he pulled his signature Harrington smile, he knew he shouldn’t but he could help flirt with you. Even a little. “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep a night.” You playfully hit his arm. He blushed a little. He missed this, he missed you. “I'm gonna get going so you can rest, remember to ice and take the painkillers. Like the doctors said the better you take care of it the less likely you are to need surgery”.

He turns around to leave trying to ignore any butterflies that were forming. The longer he looked at you, the harder it was to remember that you weren’t his anymore. You stop him leaving by holding onto his arm. God he hopes you can’t feel the goosebumps. “I know you two don’t talk but if you happen to run into Eddie please don’t tell him” there it was. Munson was your boyfriend now, despite how much Steve wishes he could have you back. “I think the nose will give it away”. You nodded your head “I know but I'll think of a lie. If he finds out Chase did it. He’ll get in a fight and end up looking a lot worse than me.” Steve agreed not like there was much chance of seeing Eddie, they avoided each other like the plague. But if agreeing made you happy he would. He also relished in the fact that he would know something about you Eddie wouldn't. This would be your little secret. “I promise, now rest. I'll call tomorrow to check on the patient”.

You were supposed to be at Eddie’s at 7 pm but now it was 10 pm, and he was beyond worried. He had called your house, receiving no one had answered, so to stop the terrible paranoid thoughts in his head, he drove over. His van pulled to a stretching halt. He looked out of his window to see your ex-boyfriend walking away from your house. What the hell was he doing? He had lost you So he had no right to be around you after breaking your heart. He hated how forgiven you could be. He quickly got out of the car storming over to Steve ready to confront him.

“Surely that can't be Steve Harrington leaving my y/n’s house”. Steve smirked “looks like it to me”. if looks could kill Steve would be dead. But that's all it was a glare. He moved closer to Steve, he wanted to hit him. He couldn't though because he knew you would hate it if he hurt Steve but someone had to wipe that smug look off his face. “Care to explain why you're here”.

Steve's face didn’t change “well someone had to be there for them.” Eddie clenched his fists “you lost that right a while ago. I don't know what this act is but you can drop it. They aren't gonna fuck you”. Steve laughed, why did you have to go for him? Steve couldn't understand what you saw in Munson. “I already have...Many times” he emphasized the word ‘Many’. He gets in Eddie’s face. How dare he say anything about Steve wanting to fuck you, when that's what Eddie did when you were with Steve. He waited till you were at your lowest and slithered in. That had always been how Steve saw it and it made him hate Eddie more. “I can be their friend without wanting to fuck them, unlike some people.” he barged passed Eddie. “I wouldn't knock she looked like she was pretty tired out”

Eddie turned around and got into Steve’s face holding onto his collar “wanna go Harrington?”. He smirked again, Eddie couldn't wait to wipe that look off his face with his fist. “tonight made me pretty tired too so I'll have to rain check”. Steve slipped out of Eddie’s grip to leave in his car. Eddie was stunned. Surely you two hadn't done anything. It would explain why you hadn't answered the phone or met for your date. No. His thoughts were getting the better of him, he might not trust Steve but he trusts you.

Something wasn't right but with the foul mood Harrington had put him in, he decided not to find out tonight. Seeing you now would only cause an argument so he got back into his van. Slamming his head into the steering wheel in frustration.

[puppy-stevee]

✨ stranger things fic rec pt 1 ✨

part 2 | part 3

mostly steddie with some ronance/fruity four/platonic stobin sprinkled in. heed the ratings, there's a healthy amount of smut.

fics in this installment: 65

fics in total: 196

as per usual:

-all fics are in alphabetical order

-please tell me if the links are broken/linked wrong

more fic recs

my own works

and, as always, please leave kudos and comments, and reblog this post!

'86 baby - T, 2.5k, 1/1, complete

hydrangea_bush

Eddie is finally graduating and is prepared to walk up to Principal Higgins, flip him the bird, and snatch his diploma.

Steve doesn't know any of this is about to go down and is just proudly waiting for his boyfriend to graduate.

"Steve Harrington Corrupted By Eddie Munson - Sounds like a Hawkins Headline" - E, 7.5k, 1/1

krwaken

"Harrington, what the hell are you thinking about down there?"

Steve grins up at the ceiling, languid and sated. He feels so fucking good. Every muscle in his body is relaxed, practically turning him into a melted puddle in the middle of Eddie's trailer. The carpet underneath him is soft and plush, and maybe a little outdated, but Steve swears he could sleep here for an entire year. He runs his open palms along the shag, letting out a contented noise - somewhere between a hum and a moan.

"God, you're so fucking high," Eddie says.

(you're my) bone to pick - E, 2.6k, 1/1

bdelaney

Kinktober Day 30: Pet Play

“How about this?” he says into the top of Steve’s head. “I’m gonna go get our food, and you stay here–” Steve cuts him off with a whine, and the hand running through his hair suddenly grips him firmly. “You’re going to stay here and get out of your work clothes. And then when I get home, if you’ve been a good boy, I’ll put your collar on.”

Any remaining tension seeps from Steve’s body fast enough to leave him feeling a bit lightheaded. He chances a glance up to see Eddie smirking softly down at him, eyes knowing as he watches Steve already beginning to slip into that headspace at the mere mention of his collar.

“That’s what I thought,” he says quietly before kissing Steve’s forehead. “Alright, up we go. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

4B - T, 4k, 1/1

andthentheybow

One of them is in college, Josh and Maisie are pretty sure, at Emerson. The other three work an odd variety of hours. They have a large amount of makeshift weapons littered where anyone can grab them, they’re all covered in scars, and whenever the lights in the hallway flicker they jump about three feet in the air.

Or, the kids that live in apartment 4B are weird.

5 times someone noticed Steve and Eddie and 1 time everyone noticed - G, 6/6

kermittheshipper

5 times somebody notices Steve and Eddie being completely and irrevocably in love and 1 time everyone notices

A Bad Day - T, 6.3k, 1/1

Abigailcantread

Steve’s friends don’t know he’s struggling and he reaches his breaking point

or

Steve has a very bad day and someone’s there to help

A Bracelet - G, 2.6k, 1/1

mewtoz

Steve is making a bracelet for Eddie and he really hopes his boyfriend will like it.

a criminal like me (and a princess like you) - T, 3.3k, 1/1

roosevelt

When Eddie comes into Family Video on one hot, boring summer day in Hawkins, long after the danger has passed and things have gotten back to normal, the last thing he expected was for Steve to invite him over his place to watch The Breakfast Club.

And the last thing either of them expected was what came after the movie.

a lunchbox full of drugs and pretzels - G, 606, 1/1

Lullabyebye

Eddie gets an actual lunch instead of just pretzels.

A Quiet (distracting) Morning - N/A, 1k, 1/1

slythekiel

A sweet rainy morning between Eddie and Steve as Eddie prepares for the next session of his campaign. Sweetness ensues.

A Secret World, My Secret Love - M, 6/6

RandomThingsInLife

Steve curses everything that led him here. Here being stuck in a Russian elevator, he was supposed to be with his fucking boyfriend tonight.

In other words, Steve's been dating Eddie for a bit, and he really wishes Dustin wasn't quite so curious.

Eddie has no clue what's going on, his boyfriend has been beat to hell and maybe drugged, and every word someone says just adds more confusion.-In other words, Eddie loves his boyfriend, but he really, really needs someone to tell him what the fuck is going on.

ahoy there - E, 7.4k, 1/1

starryskeyess

“Alright, Munson, let’s hear it,” Steve says, beckoning at Eddie. “Do your worst.”

Eddie blinks at him a few times, hiding half his face in his drink as he eyes Steve from head to toe. Everything about Eddie is intense, and the way he looks at Steve right now is no exception. Blatant and interested and heated.

Steve shudders at the look, so direct it feels like a physical touch, but he doesn’t back down.

Eventually Eddie smiles at him, wide and playful, and asks, “So when do you set sail, big boy?”

all at once it feels so right - M, 3.7k, 1/1

deadratz

Robin has never kissed anyone and is terrified of doing it wrong. Steve and Eddie both offer to give their best friend a (completely platonic) kiss to show her it's not so bad, but it ends up being too weird, and too funny of a situation for them.

Nancy ends up being the one to help Robin out.

Steve realizes that he might still be hurt over how his relationship with Nancy ended, and feels just a bit overprotective over Robin.

Eddie helps Steve.

All I Ask - M, 8.2k, 1/1

god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

Eddie will not stop calling Steve silly little pet names, which is really not helping the massive crush he has on him. He gets super flustered whenever he does it and makes a bit of a fool of himself in the process. Thankfully Eddie seems to like him anyway.

always a lonely boy (cry, boy, cry) - T, 2/2

riceenthusiast

If Steve got called an asshole one more time Robin would lose her actual mind. This was her official warning. The last chance everyone got to clear their fucking act before she snapped.

(Boy, did she snap.)

OR: Robin is sick of everyone putting Steve down and calling him an asshole (Steve was sick too but in a different way). She finally snaps when she has to comfort him after a breakdown.

Amantium irae amoris integratio est - T, 2.7k, 1/1

hellabifurious

Eddie and Steve didn't fight. It wasn't an official rule they'd written down somewhere, stuck on the fridge between the chore chart and the grocery list. Yet by a certain point, it simply felt like a rule of the universe, the ones that governed space and time and held together the sun and moon and stars.

Max allowed that to comfort her; coming home every day to Steve and Eddie's at most playful bickering allowed her to find solid land when everything around her was spinning out of control.

Naturally, when she heard the shouting, her stomach turned to lead.

And I'm Sorry I Left, But It Was For The Best (Thought It Never Felt Right) - T, 3k, 1/1

Babybuckleydiaz

“Oh darling, what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” Questioned the curly haired man, and Steve wishes he could put it into words what’s going on in his head right now.

“Can I braid your hair?” He asks instead, and he expects to get questioned more or for Eddie to try and keep them on topic, but that isn’t at all the reality that he is faced with right now. Instead, Eddie smiles so softly and filled with nothing but understanding as he nods his head in silent agreement because he knows how Steve’s mind works.

- - -

“Tommy called me today, he wanted to try and be friends again.”

- - -

Steve pauses and smiles softly before he answers. “For loving me.” Is the response that he gets, and Eddie’s gaze softens into something filled with pure unadulterated love that he holds for the man sitting pretty on the couch in front of him. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards as he responds.

“You never need to thank me for that. I do it happily, lovely.”

- - -

aka: steve having a bad day and eddie is a wonderful partner

Babygirl and Sunshine - T, 2.7k, 1/1

made_of_tea

He squatted next to the bush, giving Eddie a good view of his thighs. "Anyway, why are you in a bush?"

"Henderson thinks you have a girlfriend, and we're all spying to see if you meet up with her during your morning jog," Eddie explained.

~~~

The Party thinks Steve has a girlfriend. Little do they know, the "girlfriend" is actually a boy. And that boy is Eddie Munson.

Back to the Light - T, 2.7k, 1/1

analogical9954

Dustin has a terrible nightmare about that night and there's only one place he can think to go: Steve's.

Backer? I Hardly Know Her! - T, 1k, 1/1

alligator_writes (@riality-check)

"'I quit dealing illegal shit,' Eddie says. 'Now I just get alcohol and backer for high school kids who want to party a bit.'

'Backer?'

Eddie looks at Steve like he’s stupid. 'The shit that goes in cigarettes? I know you’ve been clocked in the head a lot, but you’re not that dumb, sweetheart.'

Rude, Steve thinks to himself, then says, 'Do you mean tobacco?'

'Yeah. Backer.' Eddie has the beginnings of a shit-eating grin on his face."

AKA an incredibly niche fic in which Steve and Eddie compare their accents. (you don't need to read the first work in the series to read this one)

Bad Timing and a Good Audience - T, 5.1k, 1/1

MonstrumOstendere

After an enlightening conversation, Chrissy finds out Eddie likes Steve. Steve also finds out. Robin is just along for the ride.

be my baby ( never half & always whole. ) - G, 3.4k, 1/1

peachyyjacobs

“Don’t need you choking on your own vomit in case you throw up,” Eddie says softly, and Steve thinks he hears an underlying tone of pain somewhere in there.

“Mm ‘kay,” Steve mumbles, gazing up at Eddie through half-lidded eyes. The blurriness is starting to subside a little bit, but not all that much.

Eddie sits down next to him, his back resting against Steve’s headboard. “How are you feeling?” Eddie asks, voice soft as he looks down at Steve. His hair is curlier, frizzier, even. “Your hair looks so curly,” Steve says, curbing Eddie’s question completely. A shocked laugh is ripped from Eddie’s throat, looking down at Steve in bewilderment. “I like it when you laugh,” Steve tacks on, before Eddie can say anything in rebuttal to him.

A rose blush dusts over Eddie’s cheeks. He shifts where he sits. He clears his throat, “you do?” He asks. Steve nods, a dopey look of his own falling across his face. “Yeah, ‘s loud…Like you, like you own the whole room when you laugh.”

or, a party at Steve's soon turns into something much softer.

besides all the glamour (all we got was bruised) - M, 9.6k, 1/1

haushinka_love

He knew, through rumors and jokes and the literal handcuffs hanging on his wall that Eddie liked things rough. Probably liked his partners rough and strong and durable in a way Steve hadn’t been since the first time he swung a baseball bat full of rusty nails at a monster from an alternate dimension. Since Jonathan and Billy and several unnamed Russian officers had each taken a turn at making mincemeat of his face. Since chipped teeth and concussions and broken bone after broken bone. For all his bravado, for all the time he spent chasing down demons and play-acting a hero, he knew the second Eddie laid his hands on him, he would crumble, and he just couldn’t live with the shame of having his chance and ruining it because he couldn’t keep up.

Or, the one in which Eddie Munson lives and Steve Harrington learns that it’s okay to want.

but yours has just begun - E, 1.3k, 1/1

limerental

The plates rattle in the cabinets. The trailer's kitchen is glowing orange like fire while the sun tracks to the black edge of the horizon, and Steve can't dance for shit, always gets a little deer in the headlights when Eddie tries to hip chuck him into it. Slow, Steve puts his hands up high on Eddie's waist and tries to move with him, clumsy as shit but earnest, and Jesus Christ, Eddie wants to keep this guy snug in his pocket and feed him kitchen scraps. Get him a collar. Tug.

Calamity's Child - T, 3.6k, 1/1

glorious_spoon

It’s 10:15 on a Sunday morning, and Steve is on Eddie Munson’s couch.

More specifically: Steve is on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his boxer shorts and a shirt that's clearly been slept in, eating dry cereal out of the box and blinking slowly at the TV, which is currently playing WWF. His hair is more of a mess than Dustin has ever seen it outside of literal fights to the death. Eddie himself is nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dustin demands, dropping his backpack just inside the door.

Candle in a Window on a Cold Dark Winter's Night - G, 6/6

Shadowmouth

Five times Steve (and Eddie) spontaneously come out and one time they plan it.

come lie with me and let silence treat us kindly - T, 3.6k, 1/1

flowercrowngods

Eddie learns that sometimes Steve will just lie down on the floor and simply exist while the world around him continues. The Party know that, call it "floor time", and generally leave him be until Steve is ready to be back. Eddie doesn't mind, because it offers him even more opportunities to just look at him. To watch him.

That is, until Eddie himself is in dire need of just lying down and letting the floor work its apparent magic. It's a good thing, he finds, that Steve understands him without as many words and is very ready to just take care of him. Eddie might be a little bit in love, actually.

Or: In which they lie on the floor and take care of each other, falling in love somewhere along the way between music and silence.

Come up for air, you pull me to the floor - E, 2.2k, 1/1

L3gitD3ntist

He looked like cogs were spinning in his head, his gaze locked on Steve and weighted with longing. Steve raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as Eddie’s expression shifted towards a grin; wide and wolffish.

“Y’know, it’s not every day I get to see Steve Harrington on his knees in front of me.”

His voice had deepened, words followed with a low approving whistle.

“And my, my, my; what a view.”

Contact - T, 1.3k, 1/1

jesskier

AU where it’s still 1986 but everything is normal.

Steve and Eddie run and hide from Jason & his goons under the high school bleachers.

Critical Hit - E, 7.1k, 1/1

AidaRonan

Steve shows up to play DnD.

Eddie decides Steve can stay. IF 'King Steve' recognizes the real lord and master of Hellfire.

Dee - N/A, 731, 1/1

demon_spirals

“Close your eyes.”

“What was that now, Stevie?”

“You heard me! Close ‘em!”

Dirty Laundry - T, 4.3k, 1/1

sparrow_in_hawkins

Eddie is excited for Steve to attend a Corroded Coffin gig for the first time, even if it includes fighting off other guys who want to hit on Steve.

Disarmed - T, 1.5k, 1/1

crow_of_crimes

When Robin and Steve volunteer to drive Murray back to Illinois, he may have met his match, a case he finally can't crack.

Or, Murray tries to break down Robin and Steve's "relationship", but it's more of a challenge.

don't make me regret this, dingus - G, 1.7k, 1/1

kermitwashingtonlincon

The King of Hawkins High takes the Weirdest Girl in Hawkins to prom

Don't Tell Steve - T, 3.9k. 1/1

Blapblaps

Fourth of July is just around the corner, and Eddie’s determined to make it the perfect day for everyone. The best way to do that is to give the kids their own fireworks display, but the only way to do that is to keep his boyfriend calm, cool, and collected. Can’t be too difficult, right?

Double Date at the Haunted Corn Maze - T, 2.8k, 1/1

Asimplewriterlivingasimplelife2

It’s Friday night and instead of having a double date to the midnight showing of Evil Dead, Steve was standing in line for the annual Hawkins Haunted Corn Maze.

Drive Me Crazy - T, 1.7k, 1/1

Asimplewriterlivingasimplelife2

"You sure know how to drive a guy crazy Steve-O."

"Yeah?"

-

Steve and Eddie make out in the Staff Room at Family Video and get to be happy

Dying for Another Taste - N/A, 7.3k, 1/1

the_departed_one

Eddie likes to think he’s not an overly judgmental person. He prefers to take his time and fully learn someone before deciding anything about them. It’s the same grace he wishes Hawkins and all her judgmental residents had given him before writing him off as the freak. But whatever, that doesn’t matter. He’ll still give them the benefit of the doubt first, even the ones who shouldn’t get it.

The most notable exception to that is one Steve Harrington.

Or, Eddie finally learns about what the Russians did to Steve and Robin.

End of Beginning - T, series

FreshLoaf

“This is dedicated to my husband, who, at the beginning, only ever heard the shitty versions of these songs and still believed in me anyway.”

The crowd roars, and Steve hears a couple of their Chicago friends near the stage boo in jest. Eddie narrows his eyes at them and laughs.

Steve looks around at this bar that their family has shared so many memories in - he tries and fails to not let his heart overflow at the sight of so many people coming to see Eddie play in the same bar that housed empty gigs not that long ago.

He wills himself not to cry.

-

Eddie wins a Grammy, finishes an album and comes home for a secret gig - and in the arms of their old haunt, Steve surprises him.

Family is Built, not Born - N/A, 3.7k, 1/1

just_a_garbage_dump

When an argument between Steve and his father ends badly, he turns to his boyfriend for support, but instead finds Wayne, who turns out to not be half bad.

feel the magic (there's something that drives me wild) - T, 1.8k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

Robin is drunk and not for the first time wishes she could fall in love with Steve Harrington. Wishes she was 'normal'.

It’s dumb, really dumb, that she still wants to crow to the whole of Hawkins High that she knows what Steve looks like in the morning, in his boxers, coming out of the shower. She still wants to be normal, and it stings sometimes so harshly she thinks she might cry, that she’s never going to swoon over Steve’s arms or his stupid hair.

Fight So Dirty (But You Love So Sweet) - E, 4.2k, 1/1

god_hates_tyler (@bisexual-cryptid)

Eddie ties Steve up and marks up his chest before fucking him stupid.

First Timer - E, 2k, 1/1

ZachwyBuwnzie

Steve and Eddie do it for the first time

Forget About - M, 2k, 1/1

theoldhouse

Eddie laughed. And Steve saw the light come back into his face.

The light was beautiful.

-

Steve and Eddie share a tender moment in the RV.

four walls - T, 2.5k, 1/1

shroooms

“You got a lotta stuff,” Steve remarks, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, arms behind his back.

Eddie’s cheeks grow red. “Yeah, stuff just sorta piles up in here,” he takes a seat at the edge of his bed. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve done any kind of deep cleaning around here so, sorry for the mess.”

“No, no — it’s fine, man, it’s cool. Your room’s cool. I like it,” Steve reassures.

-

steve, eddie, and home

Fragile (Handle With Care) - E, series

LexiRoseWrites (@lexirosewrites)

All it takes is getting dragged to one Corroded Coffin concert for Steve’s life to change forever. Now he has to find a way to navigate a newfound romance with his famous soulmate while dealing with his complicated past and mothering a pack of preteen pups.

full time daddy, white and gold - E, 1.4k, 1/1

bdelaney

“You think we finally knocked you up?”

The words take a second to register in Steve’s post-orgasm haze, but then…

Oh.

get you back (by my side) - T, 3.9k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

Eddie hasn't spoken to Gareth and the others since whatever went down with Chrissy Cunningham, now Gareth sees him playing basketball with Steve Harrington and a bunch of kids, what the fuck is going on?

Sinclair sighs longingly.

“Okay, man, I can get behind you on the sweet and salty,” says Gareth, “but New Coke?”

“He was crazy for it,” says Harrington, grinning all fond at the back of Sinclair’s head like he’s retelling the story of his toddler’s foray into the world of art and talking Gareth through all the monstrosities in pride of place on the fridge. “Weird kid.”

Eddie is smiling at the side of Harrington’s face and Jesus Christ, Gareth never wants to meet another gay man in his whole life if their taste is Steve fucking Harrington.

get you wild, make you leave ( a little much for everyone. ) - G, 3.2k, 1/1

peachyyjacobs

“Hey,” he murmurs, slowly sitting up. Eddie whips his head to look in Steve’s direction, eyes wide and wild. He looks scared. “What’s up?” Steve whispers, more than ready to help. Eddie just shakes his head, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Steve glances over at the clock, barely able to see the big hand pointed at the six, and the little hand pointed at two.

“It’s two thirty, Munson. Did you have a nightmare?” Steve asks inquisitively.

And finally, Eddie opens his mouth to speak. “No,” comes his defensive reply, but Steve sees right through him.

or, it's movie night at the Wheeler's, but Steve's got something in store for him.

Getting Eddie Munson to graduate, and other acts of herosim - M, 7/7

liionne

It had only been about two weeks since Vecna and their trip to the upside down and everything had just… gone back to normal. As it always did. Life went on. The kids went back to school, he and Robin went back to work, Nancy and Jonathon were getting ready for college and Eddie…

Apparently, no one thought to check in on Eddie.

Recovering from first-time exposure wasn't easy, especially not when your return meant trying to graduate high school for the third time, so Steve decides he's going to do whatever it takes to help Eddie Munson graduate, even if it means re-learning 12th grade U.S History, and learning some things about himself along the way.

Good Dog - E, 7.8k, 1/1

PuppyKTae

Eddie calls Steve a "golden retriever boyfriend." Steve likes that a little more than he probably should.

Aka: Eddie calls Steve a good girl ❤

Handcuffs and Pleasant Surprises - E, 5k, 1/1

thefatedthoughtofyou

Steve accidentally handcuffs himself to Eddie's bed. It might be the best day of Eddie's life.

Happy Birthday, Will Byers. - T, 2.4k, 1/1

jesskier

“You forgot Will’s birthday?!”

The look on Steve’s face is nothing short of flabbergasted, and Eddie can’t exactly blame him. El and Mike are staring back at them with wide, guilty eyes and he would never touch a hair on El’s head but he kind of wants to backhand Wheeler.

“We only just moved to California and it was very difficult,” El continues, tears welling in her giant, brown eyes. “He is like my brother and I would like to make it up to him.”

“Yeah,” Mike chimes in, gesturing at El with his thumb. “It was kind of distracting when El knocked a girl in the head with a roller skate.”

All three of them glare at Mike. El opens and closes her mouth a few times, apparently at a loss for words. Eddie takes an aggressive step forward. He’s never hit a kid but if he were going to it would be Wheeler, definitely.

Before he can speak his mind, Steve steps between them, coming to the rescue (which is so very him that it makes Eddie’s chest ache). “Okay!” He claps his hands and rolls up his shirt sleeves. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

have yourself a merry little christmas (far away from a hallmark card) - E, 9/9

JeanElaineGrey

Steve Harrington hates Christmas. Not in a Scrooge-y, Grinch-y way, but in a "my parents are never home for holidays" way. Eddie notices and worries.

He Can Handle It - T, 2.4k, 1/1

Tricker86

His parents weren’t supposed to be back for another four days, they didn’t come home early unless something happened. The last time they’d come home early was when the "earthquakes" happened, but they didn’t come home because they were worried. No, they came home because since he had been missing he was considered a suspect of murder. His parents had been furious, demanding to know why he was careless enough to let the family name be tarnished by his actions. Almost an exact replica of what they’d said the time before when they came home early because Steve had gotten suspended for getting in a fist fight with Billy Hargrove during basketball practice.

This time though there wasn’t a fight with Billy Hargrove. There wasn’t an "earthquake". There wasn’t anything other than the fact that for the past nine months he had been dating Eddie Munson.

Steve knows they know. He doesn’t know how but they know.

-

Steve's parents find out that he's dating Eddie. He doesn't know how they found out but he can't take it anymore. He doesn't care what they think or what they do. Whatever happens, he can handle it.

Head Over Heels - T, 3.5k, 1/1

possumrug

Vecna is gone. Highschool is over. Everything seems to be back on track for Eddie and Steve. But with Halloween just around the corner, what harm can a little relaxing do?

hideout series - E, series

ghosttotheparty (@ghosttotheparty)

steve and eddie fall in love pre-season two. steve keeps eddie away from the whole upside down mess, but of course he gets involved eventually. it was inevitable.

home - G, 2.6k, 1/1

peaktotheocean

Eddie was well aware that his ideas of romance were vastly different from that of the general population. Metal, for one-- super romantic music in Eddie's opinion.

His partner showing up to a metal festival after a twelve hour shift teaching/babysitting a bunch of five year olds, not even changed or showered from his day, covered in paint that he was never going to get out of his favorite sweater vest? The most romantic thing Eddie could think of.

Home (Music Box) - G, 1.7k, 1/1

eajsabandoned_acc

Steve Harrington hated hospitals with a burning passion. Smoldering, if you will.

But here he was, Hawkins Memorial Hospital, sitting in one of the stiff waiting room chairs next to Wayne Munson, waiting for Eddie to be discharged.

(Not that that needed a medal or a pat on the back, because that’s the bare fucking minimum, and he damn well knows it.)

Home Is Where The Heart Is - E, 3.8k, 1/1

calendulablooms

It feels like it's been a much more hectic day than it actually has. Steve has just worked himself up into a tizzy. The list of stuff he wants to get done before Eddie gets home is long, and he wants, no, needs everything to be perfect. Eddie's had a long day, and he deserves to come home to a clean home and dinner on the table. So Steve bustles from one end of the trailer to the other trying to get as much done as he can. He still has laundry to fold, and the floor could honestly use another going-over with the vacuum, but Eddie is due home any moment, so it's time to check on dinner.

(Or, Eddie figures out Steve maybe has a thing for being his good little housewife and indulges him like a good, sweet boyfriend)

honey, when you warm the bed on wednesday - G, 1.4k, 1/1

bartoninthevent

Slowly, Steve pulls his gaze from their joined hands to look into Eddie’s eyes. The usual deep brown of his eyes has caught the light just so and it has shifted the shade to a gorgeous amber that almost makes Eddie choke remembering how to breathe.

Holy shit, isn’t he the most beautiful man.

hopelessly devoted (to you) - T, 8.8k, 1/1

fivecenturiesverse

In Miami, on vacation with his parents, Steve meets Eddie. So what if he doesn't get a last name or a phone number, it was a summer fling and they had a great month together. He doesn't realise it was Eddie fucking Munson until the guy has a broken bottle to his neck and they're about to go face interdimensional aliens together. Steve doesn't know when his life became a very fucked up and non-musical version of Grease.

Robin’s lips twitch. “And it was just a summer fling?”

He narrows his eyes at her. “What?”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic, Steve. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you.” He must look as confused as he feels because she laughs and says, “Dude, you like sighed his name, you’re so done for.”

“Shut up. It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again, is it? I’m never even going to hear his name again. It was a summer fling and that’s all.”

Hours and Hours - E, 7k, 1/1

Blapblaps

“My tats turning you on that much, huh?” Eddie jokes.

“All of you,” Steve whispers, “So handsome.”

Eddie’s breath hitches and he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, bringing their bodies flush together. It sends a buzz thrumming underneath Steve’s skin.

“Talkin’ like that’s gonna get you in trouble,” Eddie’s voice is lower now, thick with something Steve hopes (knows) is love.

Steve’s hands haven’t stopped moving. “What kinda trouble,” He murmurs into Eddie’s ear, pulling their hips together.

“The kind where I keep you here and make love to you for hours.”

housing a wanted fugitive never looked so good - G, 2.6k, 1/1

just_yeole_cryptid

Dustin needs to find Eddie Munson, to help prove his innocence, and fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, he goes to Steve.

Steve, who knows exactly where Eddie is.

-

“Did you see what was on the news?” Robin asked, disturbing Steve from his reverie, as Dustin and Max hurried up to the counter.

“That’s exactly what we’re here about.” Dustin replied, hopping the counter, barely giving Steve enough time to brush a stack of VHS tapes out of his way.

“We need to find Eddie,” Max supplied, giving Steve a look.

How Do I Get You Alone? - T, 5.1k, 1/1

eerielake

Dustin rolls his eyes and pushes off of the counter. "Your shift's almost over, right? Wanna hang out?"

Steve scoops up the fallen movies. "I would, but I've got plans. Me and Eddie are meeting up at the diner."

"Oh, that's cool. I'll just come with you."

Steve pauses his work and looks over his shoulder at Dustin. He's got a pinched look on his face, like he's thinking something over. Dustin knows that can be a real struggle for him.

"Uh... I don't... I don't know if that's a good idea."

-

5 times Dustin accidentally crashes a steddie date (+ 1 time Steve crashes a Hellfire Club meeting)

[persage]

Remember Me- Steve Harrington

Summary: Every morning Steve shows up at the coffee shop you work in and every morning you hope is the one where the cute stranger will finally talk to you. But it never happens and maybe you don't really need it. Yet, while you wait at the tables with a smile, you can't help but wonder why you feel like you've known him all your life.

Words count: 3.8k

Tags: Fluff and Angst. Post-season4 Steve Harrington / Post War/ Mentions of major character death.

Y/n smells like coffee and lemons. A strange mix that Steve still doesn't know whether its good or not. You move around the shop with a circumstantial smile on your face, a tray in your hands and a green apron used as an impassable wall against the rest of the world, your armor.

Yet you can't take your eyes off that customer, who oders American coffee every morning and sit at the table furthest from people. Sometimes he brings a curly-haired boy with him, other times there's a beautiful girl with big blue eyes - perhaps his girlfriend, perhaps a friend - and with them he smiles slightly more. But he is often alone and clarly wants to be.

You're sorry for that. You don't even know why, you have so much else to think about. You moved in the USA just a few years ago, from your  country you ended up in the middle of nowhere, in Indiana, and when you  arrived you discovered that this place is not as safe and boring as you believed. Strange deaths, accidents, earthquakes, natural disasters like it has been cursed and to be honest you have the feeling of having lost a good part of the time spent here. Now, apart from the fact that this place sucks, you should think about having fun, hanging out with boys, trying to make friends like your aunt says, but you don't. You go home at night and think of a sad stranger and you don't want to, you really don't want to but you do. Silly girl.

"What can I get you sir?" you ask, like every day. When he's alone he usually doesn't reply, he mumbles something under his mouth, looks into your eyes and points his finger at his choice. The menu next to the paper napkins is his voice and you like to listen to it.

"I'll bring it to you right away." There are no smiles between you, even if you would like to. Sometimes you've found yourself wanting a simple "thank you" said properly, not half-mouthed or in a whisper. Yet there's kindness even in the way he moves, the way he isolates himself and it's something you can't explain.

When you place the coffee on the table – a breath away from his fingers – he usually just looks at you. His are not eyes to remain indifferent to. It's not the color that makes them  so special, they're big and dark, but it's their depth, the way they seem to be a portal to that boy's soul, the way they peer into you and seem to contain not a shred of malice and seen too much. They look like a child's eyes, actually. They have something pure, sincere, tremendously tender and at the same time they contain the gaze of a veteran and they defeat you. He looks at you and you are chained. But that's okay, you wouldn't have tried to resist anyway.

He looks at you with something that reminds you of sweetness, hints at a half smile - the first - and this alone is enough to burn you inside,  even if it's snowing outside.

The boy doesn't like snow, he's always in a bad mood when it snows. One day you overheard him talking about it with his friend Dustin, Dexter, something like that. 

"Everytime I fear he is coming back"

"He can't, you know it . We made sure it can't happen again"

"Yes, but at what coast?" and his voice had broken in a yearning way, on the last syllable, like a raging river that you thought you would see burst. When you turned to look at him not a single emotion had appeared on his face. You would like to know what happened to him.

Everyday you look away from him when you realize you've spent too much time staring at him and walk away, ignoring the abandoned baconnotes on the table, silent like him. You feel stupid, a high school girl staring at the mysterious lonely boy. It's ironic and you don't know it yet, but there was a time Steve Harrington was the opposite of mysterious and lonely.

This morning it's different and you don't run away. You linger a moment too long on the marks that can be glimpsed from his shirt, scars on his neck that seem to continue under the fabric of his shirt for who knows how long. You've already noticed some small signs, but usually he's very careful to cover them. Today they are redder and more visible. You notice more scars, these never seen before, on his arms and you realize only now that he has cut his hair and when he moves them you notice and old wound on the left side of his face. 

If he wasn't around your age you'd really think he's a war veteran. You wonder what he must have been through and you don't notice his hand extended towards the cup, which meets yours. For the first time, you feel the contact with his skin, a silent echo of an unexpressed desire. You know nothing about him, barely his name. "Steve" You've heard from his friends. You know nothing of his life; still for an instant you dream of being part of it with all the monsters he must have fought to hurt himself like this. You talk with your eyes for as long as you stay close: you with a silent voice full of questions, he with a single answer. And it's always the same.

To each request, he reacts by moving his fingers, running along your palm and thumb, making red-hot marks that only you can see. You feel them, like burns on your skin, as if you are no longer in the cafeteria, surrounded by people, but in a private place, where every gesture, every touch acquires meaning. And there's no need for him to say anything, you know that today he wanted you to see his scars, he wanted to understand how you would react, he wanted you to see him for real. And you do it, you really see him, and you don't get scared. You never could. You don't know why. 

«Y/n please, could you bring me more coffee?»Another guy asks. He is just another is a customer, an ordinary, common one. Not like him. Just a guy who shows up often, asking you for coffee and smiles. And you're willing to give it to him, you're willing to pretend with the others but not with Steve, with him you only smile when you really want to and it's absurd that in his presence this happens more or less always. 

"Sure! " Breaking contact  with Steve seems more tiring than studying for the last exam, more painful than finding out you didn't pass it. You feel yourself blush as you bow your head and flutter your eyelashes, tucking the tray under your arm. Sorry, you say in one last look, ready to leave him. But he grabs your wrist with the delicacy that distinguishes him, making you turn around again. Blush again.

"I'm Steve." I know, you would like to answer however you avoid doing that. It's the first time you can hear his voice right, with words articulated slowly, fearlessly, spoken for you and you alone .

«Y/n.»

Steve runs his thumb along the inside of the wrist before letting you go, in an almost automatic gesture that he seems to regret immediately. A Last, anxious caress, which reveals what his eyes have always hidden.

"I know"

These words are the most exciting thing you've heard in a while. Suddenly you understand why Steve comes in every day, stealing a look and a few minutes of your life. Or so you believe. You feel a shiver running down your back, turning into a burning caress - the one you would like from him - and going up your spine, up to your ears. It's hope. 

You don't know how or why, you feel as if you already know him, as if in another life your skin has touched nothing but his, and you don't even believe in these things. Maybe he feels the same, the same overwhelming nostalgia for something you haven't even experienced. You hope you're right, you hope he comes here every day  just to see you, to search for a contact that happened by chance - by mistake - and to show you his tormented gaze of him, looking for the peace that he has lost in you. 

«I'll bring you some coffee» You say to another customer, looking at him without seeing him.

I have to talk to Steve. I can't let him go. Not like that. You hurry to get the hot container of coffee and reach the customer's table, dedicating a smile and a moment of your life to him. A moment that he could have, or should have, dedicated to someone else.  "Are you on duty again tonight?" You almost don't hear the question, taken as you are from another table, another customer, one different from the others. Your mind is only on Steve. "Yes," you say, glancing at Steve to make sure he's still there. He is. You suddenly feel calmer. "But only until six."

"It's already dark at six" the boy observes. "I could take you home..."

"There's really no need to, thanks." You walk up to the counter to put the container away. You hear the doorbell ring, and feel the brutal urge to turn around. 

Steve's table is now empty.

*

At six o'clock Steve stares at you from the misted window as you untie the ribbon on your apron, take it off and disappear into the back of the shop. He knows you're tired and you just want to go home. He knows it, because it's the first thing you always said to him after the shift, in another life: before Vecna, before the war, before you forgot about him forever. 

You put on your coat, gloves and wool cap, and say goodbye to your colleague. "See you tomorrow." You pull the scarf up on your chin as you open the door.  

After the war with Vecna and the disappearance of the Upside Down, even the climate has changed. The ice covers the streets, leaving just two gray trails to show the asphalt. There are very few cars parked outside the cafeteria, a badly parked red BMW stands out, it's the only one not covered in snow. Steve smiles seeing you, he holds back from calling you, enjoying the image: a colored spot in the whiteness of winter. You puff. It's cold, and you have to walk home, your high boots sinking into the white blanket, the houses still to be rebuilt across the street are the only sign of the drama Hawkins has experienced. An earthquake so strong that it has destroyed everything. You have been hurt, a head injury big enough to steal a piece of your life. A piece so important that you're only retrieving the fragments of your life here, tales of your aunt, your friends, which for some reason never seem to fit right together 

"Hey." A male voice calls you. You keep moving forward. It is not the first time that some stranger tries to approach you .

«Y/n.» You turn around, you see him and suddenly the snow and the cold disappear and the world is a warm and beautiful place. Steve. "Hello, y/n." You take a step towards him and stop, as if you've dared too much. "What are you doing out here?"

 With this wheater. You think you know the answer. And you hope to hear it from him.

"I'm here for you" Would be the sweetest music. But Steve shrugs, makes an embarrassed noise, pulling his jacket around him. You seem to notice a redness on his cheeck, you wonder if it's not just the cold. "What does it mean?" You ask, letting out a smile, tossing your tied hair. Steve's eyes catch yours, in a silent response that seems to be enough for you. For a moment everything is as before for Steve, you are only you and he is only him and in your eyes he finds the girl he fell in love with during a war that you shouldn't have had to fight. 

You arrived like lightning a year ago alongside the only friend you managed to make in the city at that time: Eddie Munson, and you were the first -together with Dustin- to try to prove his innocence, with all that this entailed: including demobats, Upside Down and Vecna. Now you don't remember anything, and maybe a little part of Steve is happy you don't have to carry the trauma with you, but you don't remember the good things either. You don't remember Eddie. When you look at his old posters or find his photos on the newspapers, to you he is just the killer who terrorized the city and you don't mourn his death. But you did it, you did it until you lost your breath, screaming at the top of your throat in the middle of the darkest night. Steve had to drag you from his  body by force, against your punches and kicks. You melted into his embrace, you vented the pain with such force that he feared your bones might break from the powerful sobs that shook you. Steve lulled you into a tormented sleep and watched over you. And then there was Max. The list of fallen soldiers got longer. Murray.Hopper, again. Will.

And Robin, oh, Rob. 

You were the only thing keeping Steve alive after that. When his best friend fell into his arms, Steve wanted to die and for a moment he stood still, ready to let himself be taken by the same cursed monster that stole Robin from him. But you were there and you needed him, he had to keep you alive. He had to think about Dustin.

Then he lost you too. In a different, unexpected way. When Vecna took you, he thought you were going to die, because the music wasn't playing and you were floating in the air and he, he looked away, like a coward, he gave up. He decided he didn't want to see you die, not like that. He regrets it every day. All he did was prepare to grab your lifeless body, imagining that he would be the next one to die. He couldn't live in a world without Robin.

 But in a world without Robin where he didn't even have you, it was torture, hell. The world was shaking again and the earth was cracking  and Steve desperately wanted to die. But you fell into his arms still alive and breathing and Eleven had killed Vecna and all you had were broken bones and a head injury from the pressure exerted by that monster. Steve didn't know it at the time, but you also had a brain injury, something strong enough to erase everything from the last three years. Everyithing about him. Your family, despite being aware of the situation, has decided not to tell you anything, to keep you away from them, from Steve.

 After all if it wasn't for them you wouldn't have been involved. Also Steve promised to protect you and he didn't. He had failed you , as he did with Robin.

Dustin has kept him alive, keeping him company in the months of solitude spent locked up in his house. Nance forced him to eat every day and Erica, Erica remained silent next to him for hours and that was enough at least for a while. Then, at a certain point, Steve saw you from the shop windows, you were working, smiling. 

And it wasn't enough anymore.

The sky is black, the streetlights barely lit up the street, yet you can understand more about Steve right now, looking at his face wrapped in half-light, than you ever guessed during these endless mornings. «Y/n» your colleague opens the door, investing you with warmth and light, so much so that you lower your eyelids.

"Sorry... I saw you out here. I just wanted to let you know that I'll come early tomorrow so you can go home early." You nod as the door closes. When you turn to Steve, you find him closer than when you last looked at him. You see his breath condense between you and join yours. Heat mingling with heat, and desire meeting desire. Steve nods at the BMW.

"I... I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I can take you home if you want." 

There is a fire inside you, even if you can't explain why. You should be scared of an unknown guy who comes to your workplace every morning and now silently approaches you to offer you a ride home on a dark winter afternoon, but the truth is that Steve makes you feel so many things and fear it's not one of them. You think that this is his car, that the car says so much about people, that you want to see what he keeps inside it, the objects that are important to him. There is probably his scent inside it. 

Steve smells good, clean.You know, you just don't know why.  "That is fine." 

"Steve, can I... Can I ask you a question?" You ask after a few steps in silence. He nods, keeps walking, his arm against yours looking for even the slightest contact. He needs it, or else he'll sink. He needs it to keep himself on his feet when dark comes and in the streets he sees the faces of his dead appear. When your bodies touch, over layers of fabric, you feel your skin melt and you wonder if maybe you're crazy. "Why me?"It's a strange question, you know, you're a little ashamed of it, and you're afraid of scaring him but you feel, somewhere inside you, that maybe he has the answer you were looking for, the missing piece in your story. Or maybe it's just an illusion. He turns around, his gaze softens and he observes you like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Because there is no other girl.

 He doesn't say it, he can't. He doesn't want to mess with you, he doesn't want to lose you again and scare you. 

"You know y/n, I've never met a waitress as good as you." 

You laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. "You're an easy guy to get Steve Harrington"

He opens his eyes wide and you don't realize it but is'shere, clear, limpid: Steve has never said his surname. You don't notice, not really. You keep walking beside him. "Thanks," you whisper as you let your arm slide, intertwining it with his. What would it be like to really feel his skin? 

Warm. Rough in the points furrowed by scars, soft in the rest of the body. To Feel the sensation of  naked flesh on your lips, the scent of laundry, the saltiness of his body, the pulse of the vein on his neck, where you place a kiss that isn't there, never was. It's a fantasy that looks a lot like a memory. It scares you. "Let's go." He exhorts you, with shyness and a touch of fear his hand moves to your back and your body is warm under his gaze. His breath is against his cheek, slips under the scarf, up to your neck."Yes" he says, holding his breath. It's cold, but not that much, not now, not for you. Not when you feel Steve's nose against your ear, not when he notices your twitch too. Steve closes his eyes, tries to refrain from telling you everything, from holding you tightly to him, it's so difficult now that he has you close again to resist, to keep a distance that hurts and he doesn't want. "Are you cold?" Steve asks  in a low voice, but for you this question is so much like the caress you've been craving since you became aware of his presence in the shop, since you met his gaze."Not at all'."

You feel Steve's smile on your cheek and you feel like you're. You just turn your head, just to give him the opportunity to reach your lips, but Steve doesn't kiss you, he's still with his eyes closed and who knows what he thinks of you, looking for a kiss from someone you don't even know

."You smell like coffee." The words are an incandescent breath on the mouth. His breath join yours,  you can feel the the taste of him – mint and aftershave – before you even smell it, like you've never tasted anything else in your life. 

"You don't like it?" Thrill after thrill, waiting to discover something about him that you don't know yet. Everything, you have to find out everything, but it seems to you that you have known him for a lifetime."I love coffee" You know he is lying. You just know. But you don't care. Just one question goes through your head and in order not to give it a voice you decide to shut your mouth in the best possible way at the moment. You shiver a little when your lips are close to him. You trace his cheek slowly with your lips, waiting for the moment when he pulls back and tells you you're crazy. You look for the right way to kiss him. 

"I don't usually do that. You must have something very special" You whisper against him. And Steve can't take it anymore, like a dam that breaks its banks, he pushes you completely against him, as if you were one. And then, finally, he finds his way. When he kisses you – slowly at first, giving your lips time to get to know each other; then devouring your every thought, as if nothing else exist but you – you find yourself repeating to yourself that you don't want to kiss anyone anymore. Touch no one anymore. Let anyone kiss and touch you except from Steve. 

"Steve" You murmur breathlessly, pulling away from him. "Would you think I'm crazy if I tell you something?"He shakes his head, his lips swollen and beautifully red. "Never"

"I knew you before, didn't I?" Now Steve Harrington no longer has the strength to lie.Steve Harrington has come to get his girl back and far off in the dark of night he swears he can see Robin Buckley smiling at him for it.

[allyricas]

Thinking about an angsty steddie fic based on the great war...

"My knuckles were bruised like violets, sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked. Spineless in my tomb of silence, tore your banners down, took the battle underground. And maybe it was ego swinging, maybe it was her. Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur."

Steddie secret relationship post Star Court. It starts when Steve goes to Eddie for weed to help with his migraines. They get to know each other and Steve falls hard. Eddie is into Steve too, but refuses to give him any benefit of the doubt, still thinking of him as King Steve.

Eddie wants to open up but struggles to trust him. He's waiting for things to go bad. So he tries to not fall in love. He fails miserably at this.

"You said I have to trust more freely but diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire and maybe it's the past that's talkin' screamin' from the crypt. Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did. So I justified it..."

The upside down would fuck everything up. Eddie assumes the worst and pulls away. He takes Steve hiding things as proof he was right to be cautious. And then everything goes from bad to worse when he watches Nancy make eyes at Steve. She is patching him up and it's inevitable that he'll choose her.

Every doubt, every insecurity feels justified as he watches the boy he swore he wouldn't love run back to Nancy's arms. He knew this would end badly, he didn't think it'd involve an alternative hell dimension and being accused of murder only for the townfolk to start an actual witch hunt.

Losing Steve should be miniscule compared to everything going on, but it hurts worse than all of it combined.

"It turned into something bigger somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed."

The final blow is hearing his boyfriend tell Nancy about his dream to have a brood of Harringtons. To have the white picket heterosexual dream that he can never give him. So, he ices Steve out. When he later hears Steve tell Nancy that she's there, he walks away before Steve can finish.

Yeah, Nancy is there and Robin and the kids. But most importantly so is Eddie. He tells her that she's family, that he already has his family. He wants them to be close without the past hanging over them. And that he is in love with Eddie.

Eddie and Dustin are still the distraction. Steve and Eddie have their awkward little goodbye. Except in this universe, Steve turns back around and kisses Eddie. Tells him to be safe, that he loves him.

Eddie is pissed and confused but he nods. Doesn't respond which breaks Steve's heart. They all barely make it out, Eddie dies several times only surviving because of Steve and Nancy performing CPR and dragging him out of the Upside Down.

Of course, Steve won't leave his side. And when Eddie finally wakes up, Steve just bursts into tears because he almost lost him. Steve is sobbing, saying how much he loves him and Eddie is so confused.

"Looked up at me with honor and truth, broken and blue, so I called off the troops. That was the night I nearly lost you."

He finally just asks Steve about what he overheard. Steve tells him the rest of it and Eddie is now crying too.

Uncle Wayne and the not-so-dead Chief Hopper walk in on them curled up in Eddie's hospital bed. They are kissing, but carefully and they are both still crying but they're together. They made it through and things are going to only get better.

"Always remember, Uh-huh, we're burned for better. I vowed I would always be yours 'cause we survived the Great War."

[marya-blackbone]

steddie au where soul mates share pain

The first time Eddie notices is the Monday after the alleged fight with Jonathan. Steve’s bruises match up exactly with the unexplained blinding pain he felt on Saturday. He wants to ask did Jonathan keep punching, even when he knew you were down? Because Eddie could feel on his knuckles every hit that landed almost as clearly as the ones he took and he knows which stopped first.

But then Hagan’s telling anyone who will listen that Jonathan did it because Steve called him queer like it’s the funniest thing in the world and Eddie decides it’s a coincidence. The universe couldn’t have made that big of a mistake

The next time is after Billy. It feels like an actual punch to the stomach when he sees Steve all beat up again after another weekend of phantom concussion-induced nausea. He watches Steve’s fingers probe his swollen eye and does his best to hide his own accompanying flinch. Not that anyone would put it together, least of all Steve.

He gets his first tattoo after that. The pain doesn’t really bother him, not when he’s almost certain Harrington is feeling it too. It almost feels good.

The third time he doesn’t know what happened. Someone did a pretty intense job of rearranging Harrington’s face all over again, he’s sure, but what really stuck out amidst the whole experience was the moment at the end when he could’ve sworn he felt the prick of a needle being pushed into his vein.

He seeks Harrington out after that. Because as much as he doesn’t like the guy, that sequence of hurts has alarm bells ringing in his head. But they don’t go to school together anymore and it’s a few days before his concern is put to rest. Eddie finds him at a moment where he’s not actively looking for him, just running errands for Wayne in town and he looks okay. Happy, even.

He’s working the counter at Family Video with Buckley, face healing nicely. They’re laughing at a joke he can’t hear from outside the store, and he wonders when they became friends. Buckley would be better off alone than with a friend like the Harrington he knew, so either she’s sacrificed her individuality on the alter of Steve Harrington’s perfect hair, or Steve’s changed at least a little since high school. But even if reality has given Steve an iota of perspective about the fickleness of teenage popularity, Eddie doesn’t feel any more inclined to get involved with the guy.

He doesn’t see Steve again until the boathouse after that. It doesn’t register it’s Steve he has up against the wall – broken bottle to his jugular – until later and he’s fighting the urge to massage his throat too. He tries to forget about what he knows – now is definitely not the time for it to come out, and despite Henderson singing Steve’s praises all year, Eddie maintains the universe fucked up on them somehow.

Then Steve gets pulled under Lover’s Lake and the others don’t know what’s happening to him. But he does. God, he does. It’s the worst pain he’s ever felt and he’s screaming and cursing, and the others are diving in after Steve, and he knows there’s only one way to make it stop, but he doesn’t know if he can swim with this intense pain lancing through him. Somehow he pulls himself together enough to get in the water and make it through the gate. The pain doesn’t nearly stop when they save Steve, but it feels a little less like dying and that will have to be enough.

When Steve tells the girls he’s okay, Eddie feels like laughing (it’s either that or wailing in pain at this point, and the latter would give him away) because the guy is emphatically not okay. Eddie feels like throwing up, or curling into a ball and not moving, never moving, but here’s Steve getting up and making out as if he can just walk it off. Henderson was right, Steve really is a bad-ass.

A/N: That’s all I feel like writing for now, but there may be more, not sure yet. I have another steddie soul mate drabble here if you’re interested, but otherwise, thanks for reading :)

[laundrybiscuits]

(Hanahaki AU tag)

Shops close early in Salt Lake, but they manage to find a diner that’s still open for dinner. Eddie’s used to being stared at, but the looks he gets just walking into the place are something else. 

“Get ready to take off at the crack of dawn tomorrow, Stevie,” he mutters. “I’m not staying a minute longer than we have to in this backwater shithole.”

Steve’s glancing around like he’s actually picking up on how the locals aren’t exactly thrilled to have someone like Eddie around, breathing their air and eating their food. 

“You think they…” He leans in and lowers his voice like he’s in some kind of spy movie. “Think they recognize you?”

Eddie smacks him upside the head. “They sure as hell will if you go around acting like I’m a state secret. But—no, probably not. I don’t know. I just don’t exactly fit in here, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

Steve makes a face and leans back, picking at his buffalo wings. “Yeah, I guess I’m not fitting in too well either.”

It makes Eddie pause for a second, because he’s got no idea what certified prom king All-American golden boy Steve’s talking about. Then he takes another look at the man sitting across from him, a real look: takes in the raised scar tissue on his neck and the untrimmed scruff, the Sabbath t-shirt he must’ve nicked from Eddie at some point, the worn brown leather jacket, the hair grown long enough to tangle at his collar. 

He looks like he could be dangerous. He looks like he could be wild. 

“Sure,” says Eddie, taking a sip of his milkshake to cover how hard he has to swallow. “Life on the road has corrupted you, Steve Harrington.”

———

They head south towards red rock country. It’s a lot more open land than Eddie’s used to, all stunted gray-green bushes clustering low around the highway, broken up by the occasional stand of cottonwoods cropping up where the road cuts closer to the river.

They stop at a pull-off a little after noon, on the outskirts of Arches where the sandstone formations are starting to stack up high, to stretch their legs and scarf down some of the snacks they’ve been hoarding in the back of the van. It’s probably (definitely) not healthy, but Eddie’s made the executive decision not to care about health anymore. There’s got to be some upsides to all of this. He can live on grease and salt and weed for however long he’s got left.

It’s been pretty bad lately. Eddie’s started to do a thing where he coughs flowers up into his mouth and then swallows them back down when Steve’s around. It means they just come up again bigger and worse later, but so far he’s been able to time it so that he can hunch over a filthy gas station toilet when he really has to puke up the botanical equivalent of a hairball. 

There’s been more blood coming out, too. At first it’d been just a drop or two at the edges when he’d spit to clear his mouth afterwards, but now there’s actual streaks on the petals, damning dark russet smeared across that hideous sunshine yellow. 

He can’t fucking stand the sight of flowers anymore. Any of ‘em. He pops another Dorito into his mouth and twists a pale half-unfurled blossom off a nearby prickly pear, squatting in the shadow of a red standstone outcrop to take the flower apart, petal by petal. It feels a little soothing to rip it apart like this, but he knows he’s probably making things worse by letting his brain dwell like this. Just, sometimes his brain’s like a terrier that wants to chase down rats, and if he doesn’t give it enough rats to chase it’ll start gnawing on its own tail. 

Steve comes to lean against the rock by Eddie. “Got a grudge there, man?”

Eddie shrugs, fingers still worrying at the sepals, shredding petals into confetti. “Told you I was dramatic.”

“Y’know, I always wondered if you could like, plant the stuff people throw up with normal flowers. Think they’d survive?”

“Why on earth would you want to do something like that, Harrington?” 

“Well, like—if somebody had the bloom, and then they told the other person and it all worked out, it might be nice to have some kind of memento. Like, living proof that it’s true love. Don’t you think?”

“I think it’s selfish,” says Eddie. “I mean, telling someone you bloomed for them, even if it works out. It’s manipulative. You’re kinda saying: if you break up with me I might literally die.”

“So what, people like that can’t ever be in love?”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. “They can be in love. They should just have the fuckin’ dignity to perish from it the first time round, save everyone a lot of time.”

“That what you’re doing? Saving time?”

Eddie stops breathing. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, man,” says Steve. “But you’re not that sneaky.”

[daigina-3]

Passing Notes (In Secrecy)

Chapter 2: I think he likes you

In 7th grade, Steve Harrington likes a girl for the first time. Outwardly, he likes girls when it’s convenient. When it gets his friends off his back, when it makes him looks cool.

This new girl at Hawkins Middle, though? The one with the curly brown hair and dimples and flannels that are too big for her? Steve doesn’t like her to be cool or whatever; she’s just for Steve.

But then the new girl Steve likes isn’t actually a new girl at all.

*

When the bus is out of sight, Eddie walks fast. The gravel crunches under his high tops and his messenger bag thumps against his hip uncomfortably but he only walks faster; starts a slow jog past rows of trailers down to where his uncle (and he, now) lives, towards the end. The bag, heavy with textbooks, is banging against his hip hard enough that it might bruise but he doesn’t care.

He counts the rows as he goes, just like he did all summer and since school started. He knows where the turn is, now, knows he won’t get it wrong but the counting is a habit and Eddie feels calmer for it.

One, two, three with the broken flower pot on the corner, four- turn.

They’d let Eddie finish out seventh grade in his old town- placed him with a foster family for the last two months. He’d spent his nights in some rich family’s house in a plain bedroom made for what was probably a never-ending parade of kids just like him: kids whose parents were in jail or dead or somewhere on the streets with a bottle of beer in their hands instead of with their kid.

He spent a miserable two months, walking around the school halls where everyone stared and whispered and sometimes just asked him outright- why’s your dad in jail, did he kill someone?- only to come back to the fancy big house where he was being kept, with an old couple who probably thought he was poor and gross and weird, and locked himself in that beige room with the tan bed sheets and the white walls with generic posters that said shit like be thankful for every day and hang in there.

The day the social worker had dropped Eddie off at his uncle’s trailer was the first day he felt like he could breath in two months.

The trailer is the same today as it was at the start of the summer when he met his Uncle Wayne; a weathered old couch outside, lawn trimmed neatly every other week, and the screen door that creaks too much.

Steve’s note burns in his hand and when he’s finally outside the front door, breathing heavy, he has the sudden image of Uncle Wayne seeing the note and- even if he would never demand to read it- somehow just seeing it feels like Wayne’ll know exactly what it says.

He shoves it in his pocket and throws open the creaky metal screen door. It slams into the outside wall as he rushes inside and Wayne gives a half-hearted “hey, now, easy!” from the lay-z-boy recliner in the corner.

“Sorry, Wayne! Hi, Wayne- bye, Wayne!”

And then he’s alone, in his room, with a hole burning in his pocket.

Eddie tosses his bag down, the pins clinking against each other, and lets himself just fall on the bed, belly-up.

It shouldn’t feel so weird. It was just a mistake. Maybe even a funny one- a dude giving another dude a love note on accident?

It was hilarious. Right?

He takes the note, so carefully folded up, from his pocket. He smooths it out, holding it under his palms, and presses it flat against his stomach like it's going to try to escape.

Eddie stares at the ceiling, where there’s a hairline crack just above his bed. He traces the shape of it with his eyes and feels the crumpled paper under his fingertips- but doesn’t look. Looking feels damning, but he won’t think about why.

Because to be the new kid who’s poor and a little weird and bad at sports who talks too much and draws cool demons in his textbook that people don’t get- that’s one thing.

His stomach twisting at the thought of a boy giving him a love note on the bus.. that’s another thing. A thing you don’t come back from.

He traces the crack again, counts the number of times he follows the line down and back up again. One, two, three…

He thinks about Steve. He seemed nice. Not just nice like ‘oh, he’s nice.’ But nice like his smile was real. Nice like kids usually aren’t to him- he gets fake smiles and nervous smiles and mean, teasing smiles, but he’s only seen a handful of nice smiles at Hawkins.

He thinks they could be friends.

A picture pops into his head, of him and Steve hanging out at school. Just walking down the hallway, chatting. Smiling. Shouldering past crowds of other kids.

But then the other kids turn, looking at them. They stare at Steve and Eddie and make silent eye contact that turns into whispers, like they know something they shouldn’t just by looking. Like they have x-ray vision and can see right into Eddie’s core.

Something twists in his stomach and he just can’t get that picture out of his head: that as soon as someone sees him and Steve, they’ll see something, know something that Eddie doesn’t. Something scary.

*

He’s nervous on the bus in the morning. Walking past the kids chatting, listening to music, doing last minute homework. Eddie takes his usual seat in the very back, lets out a slow breath when no one even glances his way.

He sees Steve in the hall. Eddie’s on his way to the hall with most of the eighth grade classrooms and Steve the opposite way, towards the seventh grade ones.

Steve’s head is down, eyes trained on some assignment in his hand. And Eddie is just about to look away when Steve glances up, catching Eddie’s eye. He does a double take and smiles when he sees who it is, who Eddie is. It’s a nice smile.

Eddie gives a tiny wave, unclenches his fingers where they’re holding his messenger bag on his shoulder and wiggles them. A short butterfly wave. But it’s enough that Steve’s smile widens just a little, confirmation that he saw Eddie’s wave.

No one turns to point and laugh. No one yells out hey look at that girly freak, no one even notices; half a second and they’re past each other, going their separate ways.

But Steve’s smile stays with Eddie, fluttering around in his stomach.

Maybe everything would be okay.

*

Everything was not okay.

*

“Hey, Eddie,” Carol walks by him while he’s picking at his lunch. She stops like something just crossed her mind, leaning on the table with one hand. “I have something to tell you.”

Eddie looks up- Carol’s only spoken to him a handful of times in class and the hall and twice was to ask if he got his flannel shirt from Goodwill like it was funny. The other times weren’t any better. He wonders if it’s easier to run. “Uh, yeah?”

“See that guy over there?” She points to Tommy, a semi-familiar face. He’s definitely close enough to hear them, just at the next table over.

She’s waiting for him to reply, and he gives her a slow and suspicious “.. yes.”

“Well- he thinks you’re *really cute*,” her big eyes blink, her tone feigning innocence in that way- that way that says everything without saying *anything.* “He told me that he wants to ask you out.”

Immediately Tommy throws his head back in laughter, his mouth still half full of meatloaf- the guys on either side of him elbow him and give big roaring *ohhh-hos* and Eddie is frozen.

Carol leans closer, her smile twisted. Eddie doesn’t know what she wants him to say. He doesn’t know what he SHOULD say. He wants to run away, he wants to lash out and push her off the table, watch her fall.

He screws up his face and grumbles “shut up.” That’s all he can muster staring down these other kids with a mean look in their eyes. He wishes he could come up with anything else, something cool that will make Carol stunned and sorry and make her go away- but all he can say is “shut up.”

Carol’s eyebrows go up, the picture of innocence. “What? I’m just trying to help you out- he said he thought you were really hot-“

Tommy yells- half laughter half disgust- something about not being a homo but he’s drowned out by the jeers of the others at his table.

“- but maybe he’s not good enough for you,” Carol continues, like she’s wondering aloud to herself. “Do y’hear that Tommy? You’re not Munson’s type. Maybe he’s into guys like Steve-“

Eddie bristles, his face hot with embarrassment. More people a few tables away are looking, turning in their seats and smirking as Carol and the boys make a big show. They don’t even have to say it for everyone including Eddie to know exactly what they’re really laughing at.

Eddie. Eddie the queer, Eddie the gross kid, Eddie the joke. It’s a joke that anyone would want to ask him out. Of course he must be into guys because he’s wrong, something screams wrong about him to anyone with eyes and not only is it gross but it’s Eddie, so it’s fucking hilarious and gross and a joke.

He doesn’t see Steve but he knows this has to be his fault. He started it, he’s the one who gave Eddie that note. That probably was a joke. Try to catch the little girly kid to say he likes guys, because obviously he’s weird and poor and must be queer with that hair- and Steve told everyone and now-

He’s not going to cry in front of these fucking assholes.

“Go away,” Eddie slams his hands and pushes himself away from the table, standing up. The boys across the way ooooh even more.

“Someone’s mad,” one of them smirks.

“She was just trying to be nice, Munson-“

He leaves his tray, shouldering his backpack and booking it out of the lunchroom. He stomps his way down hall after hall, ends up in the bathroom in the old part of the building, the one he knows no one goes in and some of the eighth graders smoke in after school. He slams the last stall door behind him and drops his bag, kicking it into the corner, hopping onto the toilet.

He doesn’t want to cry. He knows crying means they win, they got to him, but his throat feels tight and his lips quiver just a little and before he knows it his head is in between his legs and his vision is blurry with warm tears.

They drop onto his shoes- the new converse high tops his uncle bought him, a present for starting at a new school in a new town and a new home and a new guardian. And now he’s curled up in the bathroom getting his stupid tears all over them.

He skips Math and English, waiting for the red blotches to clear off his cheeks and picking at peeling paint on the wall.

*

When Eddie gets home, his uncle’s on the phone with the office. He can hear his quiet ‘mm-hmm’s, and ‘no, I wasn’t aware- well, the kid’s been goin’ through- I’m sure-‘ as Eddie throws his bag on the floor and beelines for the bathroom. He slams the door behind him and twists the lock for good measure- the lock is only the kind that stops the handle from turning, and the door is old so it doesn’t even really do that. But still, Eddie needs to be alone; would barricade himself in the bathroom if he could.

He rummages under the sink, tossing spare toilet paper and cleaner to the ground until he pulls his uncle’s beard clipper out, clutched in his fist like a weapon.

“Your hair’s real pretty,” Steve had smiled at him on the bus just the day before. Eddie thought that smile had been real; that he was nice.

Eddie was fucking stupid.

He flicks the switch and feels the clippers buzz to life in his hand. His reflection stares back at him, brows low, mouth set- angry angry angry, the anger buzzes in him like the clippers in his hand- he tightens his lips into a thin line, keeping the tears at bay.

The first pass is right down the middle of his head. It feels too easy, like it should get tangled in his hair but it doesn’t. It cuts through it easily, almost too easily. He doesn’t know why, but he expected it to hurt. He almost wishes it did.

The hair starts falling all over his shoulders and the floor, and Eddie doesn’t break eye contact with himself the entire time. You should have known, he tells himself silently. This is your fault. And he passes the clippers again, and again, and now his hair is uneven and messy and several different lengths- but it’s not long anymore. It’s not girly hair. And if he’s lucky, maybe no one will recognize him tomorrow. Maybe they’ll all be stunned into silence. Maybe he can just blend into the background and never be seen again- never be the center of the cafeteria’s attention again.

He wants to disappear, wants to slip down the drain just like his hair.

*

He stays in the bathroom until Wayne bangs on the door like he’s going to break it down. Eddie unlocks it and expects his uncle to yell, to make Eddie clean it up or something.

Wayne sighs when he sees Eddie’s head, the mess of uneven choppy hair. He gestures for Eddie to step out and surveys the damage- hair in the sink, on the counter, the floor, the toilet.

“Get the broom and dust pan, willya?”

He gets it without saying anything and stands there, holding open an empty Walmart bag as Wayne sweeps up the clippings and throws them away.

They’re halfway through when Wayne asks.

“Any particular reason for this? I could have taken you to a barber, ya know.”

He shrugs, his jaw tight. “Dunno. Don’t like my hair. It’s girly.”

Wayne nods.

When they finish, he calls a barber and makes an appointment for tomorrow, Friday at 11AM.

“I have school then,” he mentions when Wayne hangs up.

Wayne only shrugs. “Can’t have you goin’ to school like that. Plus one day of hooky never hurt nobody.”

He could cry. He won’t have to go to school tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after. Three whole days.

He wraps his arms around Wayne’s middle and squeezes tight, a thank you and a sorry.

*

Eddie Munson walks into Hawkins Middle Monday morning with a fresh buzz cut and a permanent scowl. He slaps away any curious hands that reach out to feel his peach-fuzz scalp and takes no shit. He takes so little shit, in fact, that one passing period he gets himself and Tommy Hagan in trouble with the principal. Eddie gets the harsher punishment, of course, even though it was Tommy who kept trying to pinch the skin at the nape of Eddie’s neck and calling him names; when the principal asks what names Tommy called him, Eddie stays silent. Fuck Tommy and fuck the principal who was never on his side, anyway.

He gets detention- his first detention at Hawkins- and sits next to a girl with long black hair and behind a boy with a cropped afro.

They ask Eddie his name- they’ve seen him around, of course- and the girl shows Eddie her sketch book that she was doodling in during 8th grade geometry class, which is what landed her there. Once is a reprimand, but twenty-six times is grounds for detention, she says. Eddie thinks her doodles are cool and says the teachers just hate fun. He wishes he was in geometry instead of algebra.

The boy explains he skipped 7th grade gym too many times because he didn’t like being in the changing room and the PE teacher gave him detention. Eddie knows the feeling.

They smile. Their smiles are nice.

It takes two detentions before Eddie asks if they know what Dungeons and Dragons is- Amy, the girl, does but she’s never played. Jeff doesn’t know it at all, but he likes the sound of dragons and gnomes. They both agree to come over to Eddie’s trailer and read through a dungeon master book he checked out from the library that week.

Steve stays at the table with Carol and Tommy- but Eddie takes to having lunch on the opposite end with Amy, Jeff, and a few other kids. Sometimes he catches Steve looking- during passing period or at lunch. Eddie never has a smile for him.

They don’t talk again. And that’s just fine.

[somewherebetweendisorder]

We'll Do It Together

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, angst, angst. talk of self harm and depression

A/N: originally posted to my old blog (basicallybats). this is a heavy fic, so please pay attention to the warnings. if this isn't for you, just skip it. thank you for reading <3

~

Everyone has bad days. It's a small fact, one that borders on myth in a broken mind, but you repeat it as if nothing else could ever be true. Everyone has bad days, and some people have good days. Some people have enough of both that they blend together into a halfway decent life, void of some constant edge of panic. You are not one of those people. 

When it rains it pours, the juxtaposition has never been lost on you and follows you like a dark cloud born from its literal verbiage, disheartening, suffocating. The heat of a storm brewing thick around you, promising only bad bad things. 

The walls close in, floor cold and barren beneath your naked feet, the bathroom too small, and too large all at once. Moments ago you were sure you were cracking right in front of Steve. Now, behind the locked door, the tears are dissipating, calming like the ocean, deceptive and wild. Untameable. Like the emotions warring within, bloody and hardened by the years spent compressing it all down, refusing to let it show. 

The bitter gnawing grows, teeth worn and dull, chewing painful, uneven holes through your nerves, craggy and prone to infection. A cursory glance around the tiny bathroom leaves nothing to relieve the itch. You're at work, you really couldn't help anything now anyway, but you'll look. You'll look and wish, taking note of every possible solution. You shake your head, failing to dislodge the thoughts, failing to do anything but rattle your aching head more than it already was. 

You flush the toilet to make this absence believable, just in case anyone, namely Steve, is close enough to hear. Crank the lever on the paper towel dispenser loudly, once twice three times, tearing off the sheet and wadding it up. Guilt pricks your skin at the waste, at the act, at the lies. 

The door opens with a loud squeal, hinges protesting your exit, a loud argument, alerting anyone nearby that you've reemerged. You walk down the main aisle, scanning the store for Steve. He's on his knees, putting the well-loved copy of Back to the Future on the shelf, scooting his bin of movies along the floor as he moves further down to replace the next VHS. He looks up as you hover at the end of the row, eyebrows raised in a silent question, head tilted back to meet your eyes. 

"Everything okay?"

You open your mouth, close it, chew on your lip, enjoying the slight bite of pain, the way the flesh gives beneath the pressure of your teeth. If you bit just a little harder, blood would tease your tongue, copper flooding your senses. It's what you want. Why not give yourself satisfaction? 

Steve waits, concern taking hold of his face with each passing second. He's rising to his feet and stepping closer to you before you know what's happening, hand extended, intent on grasping your own. It would at least, if you didn't jerk back, shocked; aghast. 

"Baby?" He pulls his hand back, fingers limp, rejected, hazel eyes a bit more green in this light. "Y/N?"

"What?"

You can't remember what he asked, eyes stuck on his pocket knife, fixated, wishing it was in your hands. You've done so well today. Woke when your alarm went off, got dressed, made yourself presentable, smiled at every patron who came through the doors today. How delicious your reward would be, sweet little ribbons of pain, earned by your careful performance. You deserve it. Some wild spell falls over you, whispers in your ear to take his knife, use it right here, right now. 

It's that voice that pushes you into his arms. There is no grace, no poise, no tenderness in the way you fall into him. It is all raw emotion, mixed-up thoughts, and tattered nerves, as you run from the darkness propagating in your blood. 

"You're scaring me, baby. What is going on?"

"I am-" You can't finish, words thick and rough, dying on your vocal cords, soundless, a plea to be saved. Like a splinter in your throat, shards of emotion making it impossible to speak, fragments of thought stealing away your breath. "I am unwell, Steve. I'm sick."

"Okay, okay Y/N. What- uh, what hurts? Your head, your stomach?"

You crane your head back, hands firm on his cheeks, demanding as you move his head down so his eyes meet yours with little care. When he takes in your gaze, nearly lifeless, dead, and walking he feels his heart speed up. It's an unnatural pace, beating with the threat of something akin to cardiac arrest. The look in your eyes... He's seen it before. Empty, vacant. It's like you said, you're sick, he can see it now clearly, bleeding into the air around you. 

"No Steve. My brain, it's- I want to hurt myself. Badly. Like I have, like I used to. It's just- Just too much right now. I can't-"

You suck in a breath, winded from that explanation. Tired, like your bones are liquifying, muscles atrophying at an unprecedented rate. You're withering away right before his eyes. And how could he not have noticed sooner? He thinks back as his arms tighten around you, recalling the smiles that he swears reached your eyes, the laughs that bubbled out of you at his shitty jokes, the friendly tone you took with the kids. Where were the signs?

"Okay, baby. It'll be okay. I-"

Steve doesn't know what to say. Who really helped him fight back the unending dark of depression? He still feels it on a bad day, but never like this, never like you. He wants you as close as possible, wishes he could crawl inside your mind and kill all the nasty thoughts, voices that whisper you deserve to hurt, whatever demon makes you crave pain. You're too fucking good for that. 

"I'm sorry."

It's a broken whisper, drawing him fully back to the moment, aware of your tears seeping through his shirt, warm and rapid. "No. No, don't ever apologize. It's nothing I could ever hold against you. It's... We'll face it together."

He wants to hold you gently, tenderly, but his heart won't let him. His arms are tight around you, too tight, but maybe that's okay. Maybe sometimes the most tender thing a person can do is hold you so tight you might break under their grip. 

It seems to work, it keeps you here; how could you run anyway? How could you run when your body is so wracked by sobs, so consumed by deep-seated grief? One you can't explain, you've never known where it came from. It works, Steve's embrace, it keeps you grounded, threatens to bruise in the best way, a hot sort of love seeping into your chilled flesh, thawing something you worried was dead. 

"I don't want you to hurt. I- I get it, I do. But if you can, I would rather you tell me. Talk to me about what is hurting before you-"

"Try to cut it out?"

The words you offer so simply make his chest hurt, ache like there's no air in his lungs and he can't catch his breath. "Yes, before you do that. Please?"

He feels you squeeze him, trying to get closer, trying to explain it all. Words fail you. "I can't promise. But I- I'll try."

"That's all I want, Y/N. Just try. Let me in, let me help if I can. You don't have to do this alone."

Neither one of you is sure who initiates it, but you're both moving to the floor, Steve kneeling, you scrambling messily into his lap, face pressed into his neck, tears slowing but not stopping, right in the middle of Family Video. No one else is here, the day oddly slow, as if time has stopped for this moment. 

Steve doesn't want to let you go. It's a hard sort of love, rough, ragged, nearly ugly in its rawness. But this moment of weakness, this vulnerability, this battle shared between partners is the most tender image he could ever conjure. He wouldn't change it for the world. And he'll be here with you no matter what.