#but for steve it just… continues

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

steve “cant get out of bed till middle of the day, barely leaves his house or is never home, isolating himself from everyone, never takes time for himself anymore, depressed and is slowly losing more and more of himself every single day” harrington post 1986’

robin “i know you loved her, and it must’ve killed that she wouldn’t take you back, but nancy is happy steve and she still loves you. she’s not the only one out there for you, and you’ve gotta get over it. we miss you” buckley post 1986’, trying to help her best friend

steve “…this isn’t about nancy” harrington.

robin “wha-?… oh. oh steve.” buckley.

he still wears the vest.

[kennahjune]

ALRIGHT BUT

I’ve been having flustered Steve thoughts.

The Party has NEVER seen Steve flustered. Steve’s always the one flirting and no one ever flirts back anymore so Steve’s never actually flustered.

But then Eddie Munson comes slithering along and he flirts with everyone just cause he can but nobody’s flustered by his attempts because he’s not trying to actually fluster them.

But for some reason he really flusters Steve.

Eddie uses this to his advantage and actually puts forth effort when he flirts with Steve.

Steve is flustered, bashful, embarrassed. He’s twirling his hair and giggling and he does this thing where he taps his fingernails on his front teeth when he gets distracted.

The Party was NEVER seen Steve like this.

Not even Nancy when they were dating.

Steve has described what he was like when he was flustered to them, calling himself stupid and saying he acted like an idiot to try and get them to just lay off.

All anyone sees is an absolute sweetheart.

Steve blushes really bright, starting with his ears and it just travels down from there. And also he’s really bad at hiding his smiles and he smiles so BIG when Eddie flirts with him. Like you can see every tooth and his eyes crinkle so much they basically close and his nose scrunches up.

And Eddie fucking THRIVES in it.

Because NO ONE else gets Steve like that.

Eddie’s witnessed Steve flirting with the girls of Hawkins. Has seen them all flirt back with varying degrees of bluntness.

None of them have gotten Steve nearly half as flustered as Eddie has.

UNTIL.

Eddie has Steve come over to the trailer to hang out. Steve by some turn of events ends up cooking and making grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Wayne comes home right as Steve is playing everything and Steve is DISTRAUGHT. Like “no Wayne it’s alright, really. I can make you some to it’s ok I like cooking you’re really doing me a favor.”

So Steve makes Wayne a grilled cheese to and refuses to let Eddie eat until they can eat together.

So they’re all sitting and then they start eating. And obviously it was a damn good grilled cheese— Eddie knew Steve could cook but good GOD.

And then Wayne puts his grilled cheese down, looks between Steve and Eddie, and tells Eddie “If you don’t marry ‘im I’m adoptin ‘im.”

And Steve BEAMS.

It’s that same smile he gets when Eddie flirts with him and Eddie is only somewhat livid.

Cause he totally gets the rush of having Wayne compliment you for the first time. He’s just such an honest man.

And it goes from there that the only people who can fluster Steve are Eddie and Wayne (Eddie romantically and Wayne platonic-fatherly).

They both go out of their way to compliment him constantly just to see him smile like that :)))

Aaahhhhh this makes me so happy!!!!

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, responding to a fan on a live-stream: Steve and I have been together for forever. We’re like… *trying to come up with a famous couple but can only think of Sid and Nancy*

Steve: Romeo and Juliet…except we didn’t kill each other

Eddie: They don’t kill each other.

Steve: Uh, pretty sure they did.

Eddie:

Eddie: Am I-

Steve: You’re not Romeo. Only one of us can climb a balcony and it’s not you.

[laundrybiscuits]

(ETA: now edited and up on AO3)

Look. Eddie knows he can be a little uptight about these things, but. There are rules. If you become a vampire, you don’t need to go full gothic Count Von Dickhead or whatever, but you absolutely cannot just wander around in a puffy vest and light-wash jeans. 

“Why not?” says Steve. He’s leaning back in an armchair, sipping on a bloodbag like it’s a goddamn juicebox. “What, are the vampire police going to arrest me?” 

He pauses. “Wait. There aren’t vampire police, are there?”

“No,” says Eddie. “Probably not. I don’t know. But there are standards which you are refusing to uphold, Steven.”

“Thought you were all about hating conformity, Edward,” Steve says. He’s got an obnoxiously cocky little smirk, the smug undead fucker. 

Eddie grimaces. “Don’t call me that, asswipe. Don’t you feel, like—the call of the night? The siren song of life coursing through fragile human veins? A hunger for destruction that those paltry plastic bags of blood can never truly slake?”

“The bloodbags aren’t so bad,” says Steve, around the straw. “Better than protein shakes.”

“I actually hate you,” Eddie tells him. “Vampirism is wasted on you.”

Steve noisily slurps the last of the blood out of the bottom of the bag. “Come on, you can’t really picture me in some Dracula getup, can you?”

The problem, of course, is that Eddie really, really can. When Robin had read him in on the whole situation, obviously he’d been horrified and concerned—but also, a whole wing of his brain had immediately been cordoned off to work overtime imagining Steve in elaborate Dark Prince regalia, maybe leaning elegantly out of a castle window on the moors, gazing into the foggy dusk. Velvet might’ve been involved.

“...guess not,” says Eddie. It doesn’t sound incredibly convincing to his own ears, but Steve just shrugs and gets up to throw the bloodbag away. 

“There you go, man,” he says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s the 80s. Vampires can be whatever we wanna be.”

———

It gets way too easy to forget about Steve’s condition, until Eddie ends up having to haul him out of a bar in Indy before they get banned for life.  

“Simmer down, buddy,” Eddie says, pulling him into the shadow of the van. “Let’s get those fangs packed away before any of the nice villagers wander by with torches and pitchforks.”

“I’m good,” pants Steve. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Eddie lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, that’s why your eyes are glowing red and you’re, like, fully vamped out. Which, by the way, looks extremely dumb with the whole clean-cut vibe you decided to rock tonight.”

“Fuck you, I look great,” says Steve, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s not wrong, it’s just not relevant to how he also looks extremely dumb like this, wearing a pristine henley with fangs hanging out in the parking lot for anyone to see.

“So what the hell happened in there, man? I was finally starting to get somewhere with Todd, and…” Eddie trails off in dawning realization.

“Holy shit, am I—I’m like your territory, aren’t I? Your stupid vampire brain got all screwy and decided to loop me in with Robin and the kids as part of your freaky human coven.”

“Uh,” says Steve. He looks unhappy in a shifty kind of way. “Something like that, maybe.”

“Wait, so, are Nancy and Jonathan—are you okay with them because they’re both already in the vamp pack? Is Vickie gonna have to be inaugurated before she and Robin can bone down?” Eddie perks up. “Shit, is there a ceremony? We could totally do a ceremony.” He bets he can get the kids to liberate some velour curtains from the drama club. With a few candles, they could get some serious atmosphere going.

“No, shut up, nobody’s doing a damn ceremony,” Steve groans. “Vickie’s fine.” 

“Okay,” says Eddie. “So…you gonna tell me what all that was about, then? Do I have to start running guys past you first so your vamp instincts don’t wig out? Or…hm, maybe Argyle’d be down to mess around sometime.”

Steve lets out an actual snarl with weird animal echoes, then claps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, muffled. The shadows around them seem darker somehow. 

“So I’m just not allowed to get laid ever again,” says Eddie slowly. “For vampire reasons.”

“Do whatever you want, man.” Steve’s still got his hand pressed tight over his mouth. 

“And it’s…just me?” Eddie peers at the tightness around Steve’s eyes; the way he’s scowling stubbornly at his feet. “Huh. Kind of…possessive, Harrington.”

“It’s—weird,” says Steve miserably, dropping his hand at last. “I know it’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs, biting down on the grin he can feel tugging at his mouth. “Lucky for you, I’m into that shit.”

“What?” Steve frowns. “You’re…”

“Always wanted a vampire boyfriend,” says Eddie. “Like, are you kidding? I would’ve sold my fucking soul at 15 for something like that.”

“I’m starting to feel a little objectified here,” says Steve, but he’s smiling, and he reaches out to snag Eddie’s belt loop and tug him stumbling closer. “Just in it for the fangs, huh?”

“Well, you’re kind of a shitty vampire, actually.” Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “So I guess I must just be in it for you.”

Steve hesitates, searching Eddie’s face. Stray red lights are still sparking like embers in Steve’s irises. “Okay, but—you’re in it? Right?”

“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Bunnicula. I’ll send the vampire police after you, just watch me,” says Eddie, and kisses him.

[solarmorrigan]

omg I'm obsessed with your latest "don't fucking touch me" prompt. Would you continue it?

Hello! I know this is actually from earlier in the week than the one I answered a couple of days ago, but I was saving it because, while I don't exactly have a continuation, I do have a little stobin interlude I wanted to share

I'm still working on the "fix it" part of this idea, but at least in the meantime Steve gets a hug?

[Part 1]

It isn’t unusual for Steve to show up at Robin’s house well after any reasonable guest would come knocking. It isn’t unusual for him to do it by climbing the side of the house and knocking on her window (she hasn’t told him that her parents don’t really care anymore if he’s there in the middle of the night; she figures the physical activity counts as some kind of jock enrichment). Unfortunately, it isn’t even unusual for him to appear out of the dark because he’s upset.

What’s more unusual is the way he sits silently on her bed after she’s let him in, the way he’s almost folded in on himself, the way he won’t quite meet her eyes – as if there’s anything he can or even needs to hide from her.

What’s fucking unheard of is the way he starts crying when she pulls him into a hug, his face pressed to her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist like she might disappear if he doesn’t hold on.

Robin doesn’t even understand what’s happening at first; she can feel Steve shaking against her as she rubs a hand up and down his back, but when his shoulders start to heave like he’s having trouble drawing in breath, a cold bolt of uncertainty lances through her gut. She tries to pull him back to look at him, to see what’s wrong, but she only gets him far enough away to hear one very quiet sob before he’s hiding his face again and she realizes–

“Oh. Oh, shit– okay, this is happening. Okay.” Robin resolutely does not panic as Steve sobs into her shoulder, even though crying isn’t something Steve does (not that Robin’s ever seen, and she’s seen Steve through a lot); instead, she goes back to rubbing a hand up and down his back, bringing her other up to pet his hair, and tries her best to project literally any kind of comfort. “Okay, you’re okay – well, you’re obviously not okay, but I’ve got you. You can just let all this out and when you feel up to it you can tell me what’s wrong because you’re kind of freaking me out, but not until you’re ready, okay? I’ve got you.”

She feels maybe her success is mixed, but Steve doesn’t complain and he doesn’t seem to be made more upset, so she can’t be doing too badly.

All told, Steve’s breakdown is unsettlingly quiet. Robin tries not to think about why he can cry so silently, and instead focuses on finding the transition from actively sobbing to sniffling and trying to catch his breath. The next time she tries to pull him back, he lets her, still not quite meeting her eyes and automatically bringing a hand up to wipe at the tear tracks on his face.

Robin has seen Steve all manner of beaten and bloodied and bruised, but somehow, sitting here in her room, still half-curled into her space with his face blotchy and wet from crying, she thinks this might be the most upset she’s ever seen him. She can only imagine what’s happened to cause it – at least until she can get him to tell her.

“Get it all out?” Robin asks, as gently as she’s able (she’s never been great at gentle, but Steve’s used to her by now, she thinks he’ll get it).

Steve shrugs, but then gives a little nod.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to give you some tissues so you can clean yourself up, because I love you, but I’m not going to wipe your nose.” This gets a congested laugh from Steve, and Robin allows herself an answering smile. “Then I’m going to go downstairs and get you something to drink, and then you’re going to tell me what’s wrong, because I am this close to being seriously alarmed.”

“Sorry,” Steve says gruffly, ducking his head, moving to pull away.

“Nope, we don’t do sorry here, nothing to be sorry for,” Robin insists, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and keeping him close. “I just want to know what’s wrong, okay? I want to help. So here.” She shoves the box of tissues from her bedside table into Steve’s lap and gets up with one last squeeze to his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.”

Robin slips out of her room and sneaks down to the kitchen (her parents don’t really care about Steve’s late night visits, but they will be grumpy if she wakes them up), poking around quietly for some kind of suitable post-breakdown sustenance. She ends up with a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and a half-eaten package of Oreos from the pantry – the late night snack of champions, she decides.

Back up in her room, Steve has shucked his sneakers (no shoes on Robin’s bed, it’s a cardinal rule) and settled himself up against the pillows; his face is dry and his eyes aren’t as red, but the tiny smile he gives her when she passes over her spoils still makes him look just as sad as before. Still, Robin valiantly lets him get through half the bottle of Gatorade before she elbows him gently in the side, demanding answers.

“Right.” Steve caps the bottle and rolls it nervously between his hands, watching the highlighter fluid yellow slosh around inside. “So, uh. You know how I’ve been seeing Eddie?”

Robin’s heart sinks. “Oh, shit, did you two break up?”

“Actually, it turns out…” Steve clears his throat. “It turns out that there wasn’t anything to break up. Apparently, we’ve been friends with benefits this entire time and I’m just a delusional idiot who made up an entire relationship in my head. So there’s that.”

There is nothing Robin can think to say to that. There’s entirely too much to unpack, and none of it makes sense.

“What,” she finally manages, a little flat.

“Yeah, he said that, uh. I’m not the type of guy you have a relationship with, and that I’m hot, but I’m just a good friend, and we’re just having fun.” If Steve’s voice cracks on the last word, Robin doesn’t mention it.

In fact, she’s too busy being consumed by rage to really notice. “He said that to your face?” she demands.

Steve clears his throat. He won’t meet her eyes. “Not– not exactly.”

“Steve.”

“The guys were over, and I went out to get some air, and that’s… what I heard Eddie saying to them when I came back in,” Steve says. “So now they know how pathetic I am, too, which is. Great. That’s fucking great.”

The world goes still. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. Robin reaches out and squeezes Steve’s wrist. “I’m going to have to leave for a few hours, okay?” she says. “I have to bike down to the trailer park and fucking kill Eddie.”

In a flash, Steve twists in Robin’s grip and grabs her by the wrist in turn. “Don’t leave,” he says quickly.

“No, he doesn’t– he doesn’t get away with this,” Robin hisses. “He doesn’t get to do this to you and not face consequences!”

“He wasn’t trying to– I mean– I was the one who–”

“Are you defending him right now?”

“No, I just– fuck.” Steve lets go of Robin and shoves both hands up into his hair, grabbing and pulling. “I already feel enough like some fucking – loser reject, okay? I don’t want to be alone right now. Please just… stay.”

The rage doesn’t abate (if anything, there’s probably more of it), but Robin’s priorities do rearrange, and she settles back on the bed next to Steve. “Fine,” she huffs. “Munson gets a stay of execution.”

She pushes the package of Oreos into Steve’s lap and orders him to finish the Gatorade. She doubts if he’s going to escape tonight without a migraine, but dehydration on top of stress will only make it worse.

They sit quietly for a while, munching on cookies, shoulder to shoulder on Robin’s bed, before Robin breaks into the silence.

“You’re not a loser, Steve. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be loved, okay?” she says softly, reaching over to wrap her hand around his wrist again. “And one day it’s going to happen. I’m choosing to believe in love, too.”

For a long moment, Steve says nothing. When he finally does speak, his voice has gone a bit rough. “If you make me cry again, I’m dumping what’s left of the Gatorade over your head.”

Robin snorts, squeezing Steve’s wrist. “There’s that mean girl I know and love.”

Steve laughs, too, small but sincere, and Robin takes it as a win.

Part 3

[strangersteddierthings]

Rockstar Life

It might have all been forgiven, if Eddie had called. If Eddie had called and begged forgiveness immediately.

Steve could believe- would be willing to look past one drunken mistake.

But Eddie doesn't call.

Eddie doesn't call. Not in the morning after. Or the following day. Or the next.

Steve doesn't reach out either, because how can be he expected to? Paparazzi caught Eddie shoving a mysterious man against the wall in a dark alley, captured their heated kisses and how they barely separated for long enough to get into the back of an uber, and Steve knows as soon as he sees the pictures that he won't be reaching out.

He's not the one that's done anything wrong.

It takes three days for Steve to hear from Eddie. It's a shock, a genuine surprise, because it's face to face. Steve hears the front door close, and he thinks it's Robin, come to check on him again so he doesn't even turn around from where he's making a quesadilla directly on the stovetop.

He does freeze completely when it's not Robin's voice he hears.

"Steve, I am so sorry. So fucking sorry. I can't even begin to explain how sorry."

Three days ago, Steve might have forgiven him.

Today, he's not feeling so generous. He turns the burner off and scoots the half-cooked quesadilla to the cooler side of the stovetop before turning around.

Eddie looks wrecked. Dark bags under his eyes, made even darker by his paler than normal skin, hair a type of messy Steve hasn't seen since the spring break Eddie was in hiding and unable to take a proper shower. He looks heartbroken, distraught and upset. All things Steve felt up until this exact moment. Now that he's face to face with the love of his life, he feels nothing.

"Am I moving out, or are you?"

The noise Eddie makes is heart wrenching. Steve's not so numb and hateful to not recognize that. "Babe, please-"

"Do not call me that," Steve interrupts, "not when you were probably whispering that to someone else just days ago."

"Ba-Steve. Steve, please. I swear it was a mistake. It- I was way too drunk and high to be thinking clearly-"

"I don't want your excuses, Eddie. I want to know if I'm packing my things, or if you are."

"Steve, can't we talk about this?"

That makes Steve's blood boil. "Talk about it? Talk about it? Now you want to talk about it? You should have wanted to talk about it the second you slunk from that guy's bed. Or did you have to kick him from yours? Or, worse, has it taken three goddman days to hear from you because you were still in bed!?"

"No!" Eddie cries, "no, it didn't- it was just-"

"Stop!" Steve shouts, "I don't want to hear any details! I don't care if that uber only made it a block before you came to your senses and bailed. That doesn't- those pictures- you pinned him to the wall, Eddie!"

Eddie is silent, shrinking in on himself in a way Steve's never seen. Steve pushes down the urge to comfort him.

Steve is the one in need of comfort. He's the hurt party here.

"If I were sober, it never would have happened," is all the reply Eddie finally gives. It's not good enough.

"I can't trust that!" Steve turns away, pressing his hands against his eyes hard enough to see light that isn't there. "How am I supposed to believe you? You didn't even- you didn't even call. It was like- like you didn't even know that I knew. But you must have found out. That's why you're here." Steve drops his hand and turns around. "Who told you I knew?"

Eddie swallows. "Max."

Steve nods because of course it was Max. She was the one who handed him the tabloid with the picture in it, three days ago. "So, if you didn't know I knew, you would have, what, never told me?"

"NO, no, I just- I didn't know what to say. How to say it. But then Max called yesterday and-" Eddie says Max's name with too much bite, like it's a curse. Like Max tattled on Eddie instead of exposed his betrayal.

"Shut. Up," Steve growls, "you don't get to be mad at Max for your fucking mistake! I've know you're a goddamn cheater for three days, and it's not until Max let you know that I knew, that you decided to fix it? Well, it can't be fixed, Eddie!"

"Steve, please," Eddie is crying, and Steve's seen him cry a handful of times before but this one hurts deepest. Steve's the reason for the tears, and because you don't just stop loving someone overnight, that hurts.

"No. No! I can't trust you! How many other times has this happened?-"

"Never, never I swear-"

"- Would you have ever said anything if you hadn't been fucking caught on camera?!"

"Yes, of course I would have!"

"How am I ever going to believe that?" Steve cries, "I had to learn that the love of my life cheated on me at the same time the rest of the goddamn world did! Jesus Christ, Eddie, when you said you wanted that rockstar life, I thought you meant like, big fancy house, grammy's and an invite to the met gala. Not goddamn sex, drugs and rock n' roll!"

For the first time since Steve's known him, Eddie Munson stands before him with nothing to say.

-

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @skepsiss @afewproblems

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 09/08 // upside down

wc: 2.6k // rating: M // cw: excessive description of injury/blood/wounds // tags: previous first kiss, canon divergence, post-s4, steve harrington whump, this man is so injured it’s crazy, so injured and so self-sacrificing

part two to day 8 but can be read alone ♡

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Steve drops down into the unfortunately familiar grey-blue atmosphere of the Upside Down. His feet hit the ground, and despite the bandana covering his nose and mouth, he feels the death and decay enter his lungs as he surveys his surroundings. It’s much worse than before. It’s heavier, like inhaling steam, but sits cold in his chest. A sign that he shouldn’t have returned. A reminder of how dangerous this was. The ground shakes with tremors as Steve pulls on the rope, testing its stability before tying it to the nearby destroyed remains of a trailer. In this state, he couldn’t be sure whose it was. The giant crack in the earth had all but destroyed the trailer park, but it was close enough to where they’d exited those days before, panicked and rushed, Dustin near inconsolable about having lost Eddie.

“Buddy, buddy, look at me,” Steve had said, grasping his shoulders. “We’ll come back for him, okay? I will come back for him.”

“No!” Dustin cried. “No, Steve! I can’t lose you too!”

Steve wouldn’t promise it, but he let the matter go at the time. He waited until after he’d been admitted to the hospital, receiving treatment for an infection in the bat bites. Bringing it back up once they’d all received medical attention only had several people yelling at him. He was warned, commanded, begged—repeatedly and earnestly—to not go back into the Upside Down. That it wasn’t safe. That he needed time to heal. That there would be no point. That Eddie was gone, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t want Steve to risk his life going back in to find him.

“Steve, you’re literally in a hospital bed,” Nancy had said, her steely tone covering her concern. “You can’t be serious.”

“Listen, Harrington,” Hopper had sat beside him, voice stern. “You are not to go back there. Do you understand me? We can’t lose any more people.”

But Steve wouldn’t be swayed. And so he was alone. Searching the Upside Down for a man that was believed to be dead.

His flashlight swung in an arc, illuminating the destruction around him. Deep, cavernous fissures in the ground are lit up by the flashlight. Eddie couldn’t have gotten far, with how seriously he was injured. Once the earthquakes started, Dustin said he tried to drag his body out of the wreckage, but it was almost impossible. He took cover until the shaking ground settled enough for him to walk. When he went back, Eddie’s body was gone. Steve pulls debris aside, the movement tugging on his barely healed scars, searching areas that someone could hide in. The scar around his neck burns. Steve had to find him.

Mike, Will, and Eleven were looking for Dustin, after having visited Max, when they showed up at Steve’s hospital room. As Dustin readied to walk them out, Steve asked Eleven to stay back to ask her a question—earning some distinctive looks from the others—and once the boys were gone, handed her one of the Missing Person posters that Wayne Munson had hung up around the relief centre.

“Can you look for him?” Steve had asked, desperate at that point. “If he’s still… if he’s down there, will you know?”

Eleven gave him a quizzical look, but nodded. “If he is there, I can find him.”

He’d waited patiently—tried not to fidget, to keep quiet—while she put a blindfold on, the small radio Dustin had brought to Steve set to static. The seconds ticked into minutes as Steve watched intently, waiting for an answer.

“I see him,” she finally said. “He’s… hurt. Lost.”

Steve’s heart was in his throat. “Is he… alive?”

Eleven nodded. “Alive,” she confirmed.

Feeling like the air was being sucked out of his lungs, Steve’s hands went to his hair. He’d hoped, god, he’d prayed, that it was true. That they hadn’t lost Eddie. But that meant he’d been stuck down there for almost a week now.

“D’you—can you see where he is?” Steve asked.

She was still for several moments, mouth pulled into a frown, before she shook her head. Trying not to be disappointed, he focused on the important part. Eddie was alive. For now, at least. But he had to work fast.

“Okay, uh, listen,” Steve said. “Can you please, uh, not tell anyone else? That you know this.”

When she pulled her blindfold off, she gave him a look that was far too knowing. “Friends don’t lie, Steve.”

“I’m not asking you to lie,” He quickly clarified. “But this is to keep everyone else safe. If the others find out that he’s alive, they’ll try to go back in to find him.” He takes a breath. “It has to be me, no one else.”

“Steve, it is not safe there.” Eleven looked over him. “You are still sick. It will get worse.”

“I know, kid,” Steve sighed. “But I have to save him.”

In the end, Steve convinced her to promise to keep it to herself—unless someone asked directly, and unless he hadn’t returned within six hours of going back—with the added compromise that he would tell Robin where he was going. He checked himself out of the hospital that afternoon, signing multiple forms that indicated he knew he was going against medical advice.

Telling Robin of his plan was never in question. He couldn’t lie to her. Sitting her down at his house, he asked her to please not tell anyone, to only involve anyone else if he hadn’t returned in six hours, as he promised Eleven. Robin begged him not to go through with it, reaching an almost panicked state as she tried to convince him to stay. He can still hear her tearful voice in his mind, looping over and over, a reminder of what he’s sacrificing.

“Steve, please, you can’t do this, at least not without someone to help you!” She’d held onto his arm, stopping him from loading items into a backpack.

Steve turned to her. “I’m not going to drag anyone else into this with me, Robin. This is my decision. Everyone’s already made it clear they don’t think it’s a good idea. I gotta go alone.”

“At least let me come with you!” Robin tried, following him as he searched for a flashlight. “At least you wouldn’t be alone.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her. “I can’t let you do that for me. It’s too dangerous.”

Robin shrugged him off, tone growing angry. “So what are you doing then?! Going alone when it’s too dangerous for me to come with you? You’re not even fully healed yet, Steve! You could die down there!”

“I have to try, Rob,” Steve sighed. “I have to. He’s trapped down there.” 

“We could organise a rescue, just don’t do this alone!” Robin yelled, reaching the end of her patience.

He took her hands in his. “No one else needs to put themselves in danger. Hopper was right, we can’t lose any more people, but I can’t just leave him down there. I can’t, Robin.”

Steve knew Robin would understand, at least, why he needed to do this. The kiss. The one that haunts him. The one he and Eddie shared behind the RV, right before they marched back into hell and they lost him. Robin knew—more than anyone—what Steve would do, that his mind wouldn’t be changed. Not for something like this. Because Steve was self-sacrificing to the point of harm for anyone important to him. And this was bigger. There was more at stake—she could tell by the way he spoke about it, with how serious his tone was. She cried and held him tight, finally demanding that he come back at the first sign of danger, and promising him that they could regroup and try again. Just as long as he came back.

Heart aching as the conversation replayed in his mind, Steve shook himself. He needed to focus. The increasing pain of his scars was distracting enough, and he couldn’t afford to lose time. Already having searched for what felt like hours, Steve’s strength was starting to waver. The crimson storm clouds rolled overhead. The weight of his emotions—the guilt, the wish that he’d handled things differently—was starting to feel impossible to carry.

It ate him alive, the way it all went down. The connection between them had been undeniable, Steve constantly finding himself drawn to Eddie, and Eddie endlessly getting back up in his space. It all culminated in a shared moment that turned into a timid kiss, which quickly turned desperate and heavy. It all became too much, too fast, too real—

Steve had panicked and asked him to stop, but it just came out wrong, and Eddie wouldn’t hear him out. He’d wanted to keep going, god, he’d never been kissed like that. Not with so much heat and desire and need. But he also didn’t want it to just be that. He felt something between them that was magnetic and electric and set his heart ablaze in a way he hadn’t felt before. He just couldn’t get the words out. Left speechless by the feeling of Eddie’s tongue in his mouth and his body pressed up against him. He wished he’d just been able to verbalise what he felt. I don’t want this to be meaningless. I’m not just trying to get a quick lay at the end of the world. I think this could be something special. I want it to be.

If only his mouth had cooperated with him. But Eddie had misunderstood his faltering for rejection, and ran away… And they had more important issues to deal with. Despite wanting to approach, to explain himself and set the record straight, Steve knew it would have to wait. Except Eddie had done the very thing Steve told him not to do. Ran right into danger, played the hero, and sacrificed himself. Yes, it meant Dustin was saved, and for that, Steve would always be grateful. But Eddie was gone—lost.

Lost but alive. This is the thought that keeps him moving. Keeps him searching despite his body screaming in agony. Some of the wounds feel open, the sickly cold seeping under the bandages and mingling with his blood. His back burns and aches—the abrasions from being dragged on the ground, dry and splitting—the pain of it sinking deep into his muscles. Making it harder for him to move. Every breath is laborious, he feels like he’s drowning. Steve pulls down the bandana, coughing heavily. The strange particles in the air get sucked into his lungs as he tries to catch his breath. The wounds around his stomach bite into him, feeling worse than when he arrived at the hospital, where infection was starting to take hold. He can’t give up.

Every second feels precarious. Steve hasn’t heard the chittering or hissing of any creatures down here, thankfully, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. The atmosphere alone is dangerous enough. Like the Upside Down was rejecting his presence, and the longer he stays, the more it tries to destroy him. How could Eddie be alive in this place?

It’s been hours now. The flashlight illuminates another chasm in the ground, reminding him of how unachievable his task is. Steve drops his backpack to the ground and leans against a more solid looking destroyed trailer, the back of his head hitting it as he looks to the red-clouded sky. His legs ache from walking. Daring to look down, he notices dark spots starting to stain his shirt. He swallows heavily, mouth dry, the taste of rot on his tongue. A wave of nausea rolls over him. He wills it down, knowing that if he vomited now, the pain in his wounds would only grow, and he’s not sure he can handle that. 

Dread starts to seep in, and for the first time since he arrived back here, Steve starts to think that maybe he can’t do this. Maybe he can’t rescue Eddie. Not on his own. Not in his current state. Even if he found Eddie now, how would he be able to help? He can barely support his own weight right now.

Steve slides down the side of the trailer, hissing in pain as it drags against the scars on his back. The ground trembles beneath him. Another reminder of the impossibility of what he’s trying to do. He checks his watch. Three hours since he left, half of his time is already up.

“Fuck…” Steve breathes, trying to keep his cool. He could do this. He had to do this. He reaches into the backpack, pulling out a bottle of water. The plastic cracks as he twists the lid off. The water does little to ease his nausea. It’s with his eyes closed, praying for some strength to return, when he hears it.

A… gasp?

Steve’s head turns sharply toward the echoing sound. He drops the water bottle back into his bag, pulling out his nail bat and scrambling to his feet. The sound comes again from his right. He steps slowly, bat raised. His heart hammers in his chest. Following the sound, pain temporarily forgotten, Steve makes his way carefully around the destroyed trailer, avoiding debris.

The sound gets louder. Steve approaches a chasm in the earth, two half destroyed trailers on either side. Shattered glass and half melted metal litter the ground. With the bat in his hands, the flashlight is tucked under his arm, shakily brightening the space ahead of him. He leans over the edge, feet planted wide, and looks down into the darkness. It’s shallower than he thought, cracked with blocks of earth jutting out of the walls. 

With no immediate danger in his eyeline, he lowers the bat and aims the flashlight down into the cavern. As the light shines over, he sees dark splatters over the rocks, and Steve hopes it’s not blood. He looks lower, brows pulling together as he follows the splatters deeper into the rift. He hears what sounds like a rattling inhale, head snapping up, a few feet ahead of where he currently stands. Taking a couple tentative steps, he scans the depths carefully, searching for the source of the sound.

The splatters are larger, darker, decorating the earth as he follows the light. An odd shape catches his eye, and he directs the flashlight at it. Steve squints, trying to make out the object, as the light barely illuminates that far down. It takes a moment before he recognises the familiar pair of boots, anything else hidden by another overhanging piece of earth.

Steve doesn’t hesitate, shoving the flashlight between his teeth, and sliding down the edge of the chasm. He shakily drops to a set of rocks a little ways down, looking for a safe enough spot to move down again. Leaning against the rough walls, he shifts another step lower, pain in his back and sides screaming at him. It’s a precarious descent, but he manages to reach the bottom. Steve shines the flashlight ahead, brightening the space. When his eyes adjust, he takes a few cautious steps before dropping to his knees, bat falling to the ground with an echoing clunk.

Eddie lays on his side. He’s covered in dried blood, clothes torn, curled defensively with his knees up to his chest, eyes squeezed shut. Unable to see any sign of movement, Steve’s chest tightens, fearing the worst. Was he too late?

He reaches out with a trembling hand. “Eddie?” he breathes.

Eddie jolts, eyes snapping open, taking in a deep, rasping breath. His breathing settles. He focuses on the man above him. “…Steve?”

[sticks-and-stonesmc]

This meme might have more lore than i intended but i cant not post this

[fairysteve]

Eddie gets the idea while grocery shopping.

It's the end of November, but some of the people in Hawkins know how to hold a grudge, so Eddie still avoids being out alone when possible. This time, he had been buying groceries with Steve.

The domesticity always get to him, but this time especially. Steve had paused by the advent calendars, looked through the different designs, and carefully picked out seven. Eddie didn't even get time to formulate a joke before Steve softly explained that this is his third year doing this for the kids, how it started after he befriended Dustin, and how after experiencing an awful thanksgiving, Steve wanted the kids to have a brighter December. It's not about Christmas, it's about having something to look forward to each day, even if it's something silly like a piece of chocolate.

And Eddie understands. After all, he's still not comfortable alone in public after seven months, and he's only been through this once.

But here Steve is, keeping him company and doing something for the kids, and Eddie can't help but wonder what anyone does for Steve in turn.

And looking at the advent calendars, looking at Steve, thinking about how domestic it feels to go grocery shopping together, Eddie knows what to do.

25 days of giving Steve Harrington the affection he deserves, starting on December 1st. And if it doubles as a plan to woo Steve, well, Eddie has always been a bit selfish.

But seeing Steve smile will be worth it, even if it doesn't end in a spectacular Christmas Day kiss.

[feralsteddie]

Steve Harrington being nonbinary but thinking he was just too stupid to understand gender

[laundrybiscuits]

(soulmates AU continued from Part 1)

Eddie has a blotchy, uneven blob on his wrist. 

His jacket sleeve had been covering it up every time Steve had seen him in that long, terrible week, so when they’re finally let into his hospital room, Steve can’t help the way his face twists in surprise. He’s never heard of anyone with that kind of soulmark before. 

Luckily, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice Steve gawking. He’s cuffed to the bed and he looks so breakable in his thin hospital gown, blinking blearily at them before his gaze slides away again. 

“Hi, Eddie,” says Nancy.

Eddie’s mouth twitches up into what could be a smile before he winces. Half of his face is wrapped in big white bandages. 

It’s strange to see everything around him in whites and greys and pale blues. He looks more out of place here than he had in the Upside Down. 

“Hey,” he rasps. “Y’here for Red?” 

“Yes, we are,” Nancy says, crossing to his side. “And we’re here for you too. How are you feeling?”

“Like…what’s his name. Prometheus.”

Nancy laughs, and Steve folds his arms defensively. He hates when people talk about all that fantasy shit like it’s a normal thing to know. 

“The hell does that mean?” he snaps, before he remembers he should probably be a little nicer to Eddie. Nancy’s already glaring at him. 

“Greek guy,” says Eddie. He doesn’t sound mad or anything. “Dared to steal fire from the gods. Got his liver eaten every day.”

“Wait, every day? How does that even work?”

Eddie grins with half his mouth. “That’s the bitch of it, Harrington. He regrows it every time, just to get it eaten again. Poor fucker never gets to die, just—just keeps hurting.”

“Well, we’re very glad you didn’t die either,” says Nancy, patting his cuffed arm. It’s the one with the weird blobby mark, but she doesn’t seem like she even notices. “It’s so ridiculous that they’ve got you in handcuffs like this. I’ll talk to someone, maybe—”

Eddie waves his free arm languidly. “Ah, don’t worry about it, Wheeler. Prometheus, right? He always…always grows it back again.” He’s starting to slur his words a little, drifting. 

“Hey, man,” says Steve. “We’ll let you get some rest, okay? But we’ll—we’ll be back.”

“Ten-four, good buddy,” says Eddie, and closes his eyes. 

———

Steve wants to bring up Eddie’s weird mark with Nancy, but he doesn’t know how to not make it seem like he’s trying to get her back. 

So the next time he gets a chance, he asks Dustin as casually as he can: “Hey, you ever see Eddie’s soulmark?”

“Hah!” says Dustin. “No way. He covered it up years ago, before we ever even met him.”

“Wait, covered it up? Like…”

“Like, he decided to reject the uncaring hand of fate in a super permanent way.” Dustin pauses, squinting at Steve’s confused face. “He got a cover-up tattoo. Obviously.”

“Oh, sure, obviously. Totally normal thing to do,” says Steve, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, I’ve never even heard of that before.” 

Later, the unwelcome thought that’s been prowling around the edges of his mind finally takes shape: what if Nancy wants to get a cover-up? 

She wouldn’t, would she? 

He doesn’t want to remember the way she always preferred long sleeves, even when they were dating; how she’d slide her fingers tight over her wrist compulsively, clutching, sometimes for no reason at all that he could see. 

———

Soulmarks aren’t even that common, so he’s always seen his mark as kind of like a prize. It had felt like winning the lottery, when he’d watched the tidy script appear on his skin a few weeks after his thirteenth birthday. 

He’d been a little surprised when he met Nancy Wheeler for the first time, a whole year and a half later; he’d never thought he’d go for someone like her. But then she turned out to be smart and passionate and surprisingly pretty after all, and the knowledge of a future together had sounded better and better all the time. 

And now…Robin said, once, that maybe there was another Nancy Wheeler out there just waiting to meet him. The thought fills him with syrupy dread. He’s pretty sure Robin was trying to be nice and comforting, he just really hates the idea that he’s been getting it wrong all this time; that he tried so hard and felt all those things for nothing. But it’s Nancy’s handwriting for sure, just like it’s his on her wrist, and it seems pretty impossible that there’s also another Steve Harrington out there for her too. 

So it has to work out, it all has to fit together in the end. It’s going to. He holds onto that for a very long time.

———

Steve doesn’t really get another chance to look at Eddie’s shitty cover-up for a while. At first, he thinks visiting Max and Eddie can be something he and Nancy could maybe do together, but she’s pretty busy handling the legal side of things. From what Jonathan says, it sounds like she’s actually managing to get a pretty good deal for both of them, like maybe there’ll be a duplex in a not-too-bad part of town with the Mayfield-Munson name on it. She’s good at that kind of thing, according to Jonathan. Steve wouldn’t really know.

It’s really obvious that Jonathan doesn’t know how to be around Steve. Like, how do you hang out with the guy who’s got your soulmate’s name etched on his skin by destiny? But somehow they make it work. 

In fact, Steve’s started to take some strange kind of comfort from it. Jonathan’s probably the only other guy who knows what it’s like, this off-kilter funhouse vertigo of Nancy’s choice. It connects the two of them even more than it connects either of them with Nancy, probably. 

Steve doesn’t blame Jonathan anymore, is the point. If—when Nancy comes back to him, they’ll both be better off because Jonathan’s been in their lives. He gets that now.

Anyway, Nancy’s busy with paperwork or yelling at men in suits or whatever it is she’s actually doing, but Steve still wants to see Max and Eddie. Mostly Max, to be honest, but it’s not like he doesn’t want to see Eddie too. He barely knows the guy, but he thinks it’s pretty normal that he feels some kind of connection or bond or whatever. It’s normal, after going through some shit with another guy his own age, to want to get to know him a little more. 

Of course, Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson isn’t exactly normal, so Steve tries not to feel hurt when he opens the door and Eddie’s whole body flinches back, arms coming up protectively, eyes big and scared. 

“Sorry,” says Steve, suddenly feeling like he should’ve knocked. “Didn’t mean to startle you, dude.”

Eddie bows from the waist, which looks fucking ridiculous when he’s sitting up on the bed hooked up to a bunch of monitors and stuff. He looks way better than the last time they’d been in the same room. 

“Not at all, good sir,” he drawls. “Welcome to my humble abode. Sorry I can’t offer you any refreshments; we’re shockingly low on pudding cups.”

“Right,” says Steve. He’d forgotten the way Eddie talks and how it makes him feel two steps behind sometimes. Like Dustin, kind of, but not as annoying for some reason. Maybe Eddie’s a little nicer about it, he guesses, though nice isn’t exactly a word he’s ever associated with Eddie Munson before. 

Without really meaning to, he glances at Eddie’s wrist. It’s tucked casually away against his stomach, half-hidden by the hospital sheets. 

“Yeah, uh,” says Eddie. “Henderson…said you asked about. You know.”

Steve feels betrayed, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He hadn’t told Dustin not to say anything, because it wasn’t—it wasn’t fucking relevant to anything, so why would Dustin even mention it? Goddamn asshole kid. 

Eddie holds out his arm, wrist up, fingers loosely curled. 

“Doesn’t bite,” he says, so Steve takes the invitation and comes closer. He almost reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand, but that would be a weird thing to do, so he doesn’t. 

After a moment, Steve says, “I just don’t get why you’d do that.”

Eddie cocks his head. “No? You don’t get why someone might not want to do exactly as they’re told, Ozzy?”

Steve doesn’t know what he expected. Just the typical Munson rebel bullshit after all. But he’s here, and Max is sleeping, so he might as well throw himself into the shiny plastic chair and say, “Whatever, man. How’re you doing?”

As Eddie launches into a convoluted story about some nurse feud he’s been eavesdropping on, Steve makes sure not to let his gaze drift to the obscene blob blotting out the fine tendons and blue veins on his wrist; doesn’t wonder at all about what else that ink might be covering up, and definitely doesn’t wonder why Eddie would want to throw away his one and only universe-approved shot at true love. 

What would be the point?

[sideblogofthcentury]

Steve had blacked out. All of his senses had dwindled to nothing but blind rage. He was lost in a sea of darkness, and all he could do was breathe. And with each breath he took, he began to return to himself, began filling in the missing puzzle pieces of what had just happened.

Steve breathed in and smelled the crisp cold air, shortly before snow or a cold rain, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and tasted the quickly souring aftertaste of the strawberry milkshake he’d shared with Robin, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and heard the high pitched ringing in his ears, the echoes of a spat “freak” reverberating in his head, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and felt the stinging of his knuckles, the weakness after a heavy exertion traveling up his arm, and Steve breathed out.

Steve breathed in and saw the beautiful angry red trickle down Jason Carver’s face, soaking the front of his white shirt, and Steve breathed out.

Ah. Steve was caught up now.

Jason’s eyes flashed with what Steve first mistook as anger. Steve breathed in and braced himself for another big drawn-out fight that would end with him unconscious.

And Steve breathed out and only then recognized that flash in Jason’s eyes as fear.

Steve smiled, a big toothy grin, and let himself chuckle at the broken little sound Jason made as he backed away.

“Don’t you ever. fucking let me see your face again, Jason. I will break it in two.”

And just like that, Steve saw Jason walk away.

Steve turned around to see Eddie, Robin, and Dustin standing in a semicircle, not a single closed mouth among them.

It was a long moment before anyone said anything, but it was Dustin who piped up first, with nothing but a simple “dude.”

Steve let Eddie drive the Beemer, Robin excitedly rambling instant replays as Dustin wrapped Steve’s hand in the backseat.

Dustin was dropped off first, with a “See you in the morning, badass.”

Robin was dropped off second, with a “Remind me not to piss you off.”

And then Steve moved to the front seat and stared at his hand, clenching and unclenching it, feeling the pain shoot up his wrist, the pressure of the bandage feeling good, like it was holding him together.

Eddie drove them to Steve’s empty house, neither boy breaking the silence that was so loud, the trilling guitar and shouted lyrics couldn’t even drown it out.

Eddie put the car in park in Steve’s driveway, staring ahead for a long moment before pivoting in his seat to look at Steve’s hand.

“Steve?”

“yeah?”

“You good?”

Steve breathed in.

Steve breathed out.

And Steve told the truth.

“No. Honestly, no. I can’t fucking stand it anymore, Eddie, I don’t know how you do it.”

Eddie knew what he was referring to. “You uh, get used to it?”

“No. I refuse.”

“Well damn Steve you can’t go punching the entire town. What will you do when the next person is an 80 year old woman? You gonna hit an old lady, Steve?”

“If she deserves it.”

Eddie shook his head and barked out a laugh that was definitely not a laugh. “So you’re really looking forward to that prison time, huh?”

“If I deserve it.”

Eddie threw his hands up into the air like the exasperated mother of an impossible child. “Steve!! you’re not getting it. It’s never going to stop. People are going to talk and say things and think whatever the fuck they want to think! And you can’t ever change their minds because they’re right. I don’t belong. I’m the freak.”

It lingered in the air again and for a moment Steve thought he was going to black out again.

Steve breathed in.

Steve breathed out.

“No.”

Eddie gaped at him. “Steve-

“No. Goddamn fucking no, Eddie. There is nothing wrong with you. No. Not a thing. You care about people, and you’re kind, and you’re smart and funny and they’re… they’re-“ Steve sputtered, unable to come up with a word deserving of association with them, finally settling for a disgusted face and a sigh.

“People don’t like you because you don’t check their boxes. You don’t, and you don’t care to, and they don’t like that. It makes them think. Every time they see you they’re forced to think; to wonder why they work so hard to fit in when you seem so defiantly happy refusing. People don’t understand, and it scares them. People don’t like what they can’t understand. And you’re so boldly you, you’re-“

Steve breathed in.

Steve breathed out.

“You’re terrifying.”

Part Two

[aclockmaker]

more actors au continued from here

Shooting the first season is a fever dream. Creating and playing in a world that no one else gets to see yet—no reviews, no public, just them. The cast is tight, right away. Eddie, like, loves them. He's already made plans to go to Robin's family's house in Joshua Tree this summer.

Eddie and Steve don’t have that many scenes together. Eddie knows, guiltily, exactly when they’re all shooting.

It’s not just what goes on when the cameras are rolling, either. (Which is, like, still insane. Still makes Eddie feel like he's taken club drugs. And maybe he's not the only one, because—)

It's also that Steve is more likely to ask him to hang out, just the two of them, after they shoot together. Eddie could text him or ask him but he has a complex set of rules for how often he's allowed to be the one initiating it, because, well. He's nursing a pretty bad crush here. It's deeply unprofessional.

In the episode before this, Eddie confides in Nancy’s character, their teen journalist-detective, that he has something he thinks he needs to tell her. Something that’s going to blow her mind. But they’re just in the hall at school, the bell ringing, so he can’t do it right now. It’s his own little “I’ve got a secret, Veronica Mars. A good one.” (He’s watched as many dead-girl tv shows as he can to bone up for the role—all the classics going back to Twin Peaks. Veronica Mars is uniquely applicable because Lily does appear in flashbacks, and even though they’re subverting the trope by having a guy get killed, they all know what kind of story they’re telling.)

In the scene they shoot tonight, Steve's character comes to Eddie's house that same night before he can get to Nancy to try to convince him not to tell her. It's not clear what Steve thinks he knows, when he climbs in through Eddie's window, only that he's practically begging Eddie not to do it. He starts off aggressive, like they're yet again about to get into a physical fight. But the fact that Eddie lets him in speaks to the fact that maybe there's a little more to their relationship. And then Steve's character breaks down, cries a little, and it's really—something, to be wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders in front of the camera and the crew, under the lights. Eddie is a professional, and he's perfectly capable of slotting those feelings into their correct file folders for later perusal, but—it's something. He's given Steve bro hugs. He's pretty sure Steve even hugged him for real the first time he saw him after he was cast (it's a blur). The only time they've hugged like this is on film.

He's not surprised when there's a message waiting for him on his phone when he eventually gets back to it post-short scene with Max, whose character lives next to Eddie's in-story. The message itself is a little surprising. Hey, I'm wrapped so I'm going home but do you want to come by? And then an address in Silver Lake.

It's not so crazy. Steve takes awhile to decompress after filming something emotional; he doesn't like to be alone. Eddie has learned this very quickly and has very quickly come to crave being the one Steve decompresses with. It just typically happens on the studio lot, in Steve's trailer. But this is fine, too. It just makes sense. Steve was done for the day so he went home. But he still wants to see Eddie.

Eddie sends back three thumbs up emojis, bangs his head on his steering wheel, and starts driving. He chews a fingernail, wonders if he should stop somewhere to get something to bring. A bottle of wine. But that’s stupid probably—it’s not a dinner party. It’s just two friends hanging out. (If he thinks it a little defensively, that’s because Mike was leaning heavy on the innuendo when he asked Eddie where he was going tonight. “Oh really, with Steve? Huh. It’s nice you two get along so well.” Eddie had just glared at him and moved on. The kid is such a little shit.)

Steve hugs him when he gets there, which is almost funny—now that he’s acted it out, he’ll do it in real life, like an echo. But it doesn’t seem fake, it just seems like that’s what Steve does when someone comes to his house. He’s a little high strung, maybe, in constant motion while he waves Eddie in and offers him a beer.

They end up on the pool deck, beers in hand, sitting with their legs dangling in the water up to their knees. It’s secluded here, big, old trees blocking them from any neighbors’ view.

“So,” Steve says. “Good scene after I left?” It doesn’t sound like what he really wants to ask.

“Yeah, fine,” Eddie agrees. “You know what Max is like—she’s too cool for school.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Steve laughs.

“Never,” Eddie agrees. The teasing would never end. He glances at Steve, who seems mostly relaxed, maybe a little hunched in on himself.

“Did you ever, um,” Steve starts, looking out at the water. “Date a co-star?”

Eddie’s brain whites out a little, just static. “Uhh. I thought you were going to ask if I thought you looked weird when you cried, or something.”

Steve sputters. “Do I?”

“No, dude, very pretty crier.” Eddie smiles.

“Thanks I guess,” Steve says, frowning a little.

Eddie chews on his lip. “But, uh. No, I haven’t.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah, me either.”

Which is funny, because he’s been linked with a couple of them from previous projects, but Eddie guesses you can’t believe everything you read.

“Is there someone,” Eddie asks carefully, “you want to date?” Steve is close with Robin and Nancy. Eddie can’t see Robin dating a guy, but what does he know.

“I don’t know,” Steve admits. “I feel like. I don’t know if it would be a terrible idea, because we work together.” And then he just stops talking.

“I might be able to respond better if I knew who we were talking about here.”

Steve gives him a look. “You do know. Don’t make me say it.”

“Gonna definitely need you to.” And then, because he can't help trying to make Steve laugh. "It's Joyce, right?"

"Please," Steve says, and does laugh a little. "I wish I thought I had a shot with Joyce." She's a legitimately famous actress who Eddie often can't believe he's going to share an IMDB listing with.

"But, uh," Steve goes on. “I don’t want to mess anything up, though.” Now he sounds careful.

Eddie doesn’t know what Steve thinks he’s messing up—their chemistry, he guesses, if he’s not reading this very wrong. Their friendship maybe. The show. Any remaining semblance of professionalism. Eddie is pretty ready to throw most of that stuff out the window—after all, who says just because they hook up the work will suffer? Maybe it’ll be better because Eddie won’t be crushed under the weight of absurd amounts of sexual tension anymore. Not that it’s been a hardship, but…

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” Eddie tells him. “I mean—personally. Who says anything will get messed up?” I think it might be worth it even if it does, he doesn’t add, because it’s shocking to even think it, and obviously too much for the moment. He doesn’t know if he really means it—this show is, like, the opportunity he’s been waiting his whole life for. But he’s already dead on it; there’s only so many flashback scenes they can film as he ages further out of the high school age bracket for a character who can’t get older.

“Yeah, but.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “The way we are on the show—“ he shoots a worried little glance at Eddie, who tries not to react outwardly to that, which is hard. “Don’t you think some of that’s because—I mean, for me at least, it is, I’m not saying—for you—"

“Me, too,” Eddie assures him before he hurts himself. “But—okay, you brought this up, not me. What do you want, then?”

“Dude, I wish I knew,” Steve says. “I mean—“ he glances at Eddie— “I know what I want, but I don’t know what we should do. But I just felt like I was going crazy, and the only person I really wanted to tell was, well, you.”

Oh. “Steve,” Eddie says, almost a warning. He wants to offer that they can hook up and it won’t mean anything and nothing will change. He wants to offer that they can date and nothing bad will happen. It’s all stupid, impossible to promise.

“I know,” Steve says miserably. “Sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s almost unbearably sweet that Steve is so bent out of shape over him. “Come on, we only have, what, two more weeks of filming? We can make it through two weeks, right?”

“Guess we have to,” Steve agrees, but he moves his hand over a little so their pinkies touch on the edge of the pool.

tagging a few people by request, thank you for being interested <3 @atlas-talks @obsessivlyme @lyriclight @deadflowercollector @thatonebadideapanda @wolfstarlights @eddiemunsonswife @alienace @wishiwasacasualfan

[oatmilk-vampire]

steddie suspense for my lovelies <3 tw: panic attack, mention of death // ~700 words

-

Steve feels the exact moment the blood drains from his face.

Of course his mind would find a way to ruin this, using an innocent conversation between the two of them against him to prove he will never be okay.

“Did you give ‘em hell, baby?” Eddie had asked with a crooked grin when Steve was talking about the unruly customers he had to deal with earlier.

He bites his cheek hard as the lights flicker and dim around him, as the four walls of his room shift into the cruel expanse of the Upside Down.

He wants to run. He doesn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“No.” He breaths out, voice just as shaky as his limbs.

“No? That’s okay. Maybe next time.” Eddie shrugs, as if Steve wasn’t struggling to breath.

He has to get away.

“Steve, where are you going?”

Why is he so cold? My God, he’s freezing.

“I gotta go. I gotta go. I can’t be here.”

“Steve, wait!”

He’s using that voice again, the one from earlier that makes Steve squirm. He doesn’t know why, though. Not yet. All he knows is it’s too much. His chest physically aches at the intensity of emotion.

Steve starts breathing fast and shallow.

It’s too much. He’s too cold, and he can’t breathe, dry ice invades his lungs.

The room starts to close in on him. His heartbeat races so fast he’s scared he may die, thinks maybe he already has. His breaths turn ragged as he tries desperately not to suffocate. He doesn’t know how to make it stop. He can’t make it stop. All he can do is reach out for the man in front of him. All he can do is try to get away from him.

“Oh shit. Come on, Stevie. I’m sorry. I was teasing—I didn’t mean to—”

Whatever tone Eddie was using before is gone, instantly replaced by something closer to his normal voice, only maybe a little softer.

“Hey—hey it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” He wraps his arms around Steve, dragging him down, down, down until he’s sitting. Pulled so close he’s practically in Eddie's lap.

Steve feels himself melt into Eddie’s touch, throwing his arms around his waist and gripping the fabric of his shirt in his fists. He buries his face against his chest as he continued struggling to breathe. Steve is horrified to realize it’s warm and sticky, slick with something he doesn’t want to look at. Can’t stand to see.

“Shhh It’s okay. I’ve got you Steve, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” Eddie murmurs, cradling his head and petting his hair in soothing repetitive motions.

“Try to take some deep breaths, okay? You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”

Steve is still shaking in Eddie’s arms, and may or may not be making pitiful noises as he hyperventilates and cries, but he does try to slow his ragged breaths by matching them to the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. Being held so tightly, and having the steady rhythms of Eddie’s heartbeat and breathing to focus on helps tremendously. It takes him a while to realize that was the whole point.

“I’ve got you, Steve. You’re doing so good. Keep taking deep breaths with me.”

Eddie’s voice is so gentle, so caring, and his exaggerated breaths are so soothing and easy to follow, Steve almost can’t remember why he’s so scared. Eddie’s here. Eddie’s here with him. Why did that feel so wrong?

It takes a few minutes, but eventually he stops shaking.

Eddie keeps comforting him, whispering soft praise against the top of Steve’s head.

“There you go. Deep breaths. You’re doing so good. Just stay with me. This will end, I promise.”

That’s when the dam breaks.

Steve lifts his head from Eddie’s chest, blinking away his tears.

“You’re not here, you’re not here. You’re not real.” Steve backs away, tries to shield himself, tries to get away.

Eddie follows after him, quick to pull him back into his arms in a tight embrace, preventing Steve from going anywhere.

“You’re okay, Stevie. You’re right here. I’m right here. It’s okay. Whatever you’re seeing isn’t real. Just me. Focus on me.”

“You?”

“Me.”

Steve shakes his head, a new sob rips through his constricting throat.

“No, Eddie. You’re dead. You died.”

Steve squeezes him tight, knows the moment he lets go reality will come back to him. The false memories and imaginary conversations his consciousness had conjured up will be revealed as exactly that: fake.

He’ll be all alone.

“You’re not real.”

[missingexaltation]

AU Fic Idea:

In 2022 famous frontman and guitarist Eddie is accused of inappropriate behaviour back in the 90's, at the beginning of his rise to fame (though the allegations are obviously false and easily proven to be false).

However...things get weird for his fans pretty quickly as other stuff about his (usually quite private) life is discovered.

He responds to the allegations on Twitter with just one word. 'Lol'. The internet goes insane, thinking Eddie is just being blasé about what he did, to the point where after a day or so he gives an actual official press release.

'I'm deeply sorry for my initial response to these allegations, however I can confirm said allegations are completely and grossly false. I have been happily married since 1991 and have at no time cheated or behaved in a way that could be seen as cheating, especially with someone underage. I was not in the same country (or continent!) at the time these events were supposed to have taken place (lots of proof available online). Apologies again for being so flippant, but I didn't think anyone actually believed I was capable of doing something so awful.'

His fans immediately are confused because...Eddie's...married? And has been for over 30 years? Social media runs wild because the only proof of marriage they can find is from 2016, and here's the kicker, it's to a guy called 'Steve' of all things.

The only thing they can find from 1991 is a request to change his name, but he's been Eddie Harrington for as long as anyone can remember, certainly as long as he's been famous. Then SOMEHOW the entire 1986 saga gets brought to light, and 'Eddie Munson' and his 'husband' are discovered to have been 'attempted victims of a serial killer', but survived. Hence the scars on his stomach and neck, the internet realises. What the fuck.

This all happens over the space of a week or so, and Eddie's social media is silent (not unusual for the old man, but still... people want answers). The internet is very confused and his music is suddenly being played everywhere, a complete resurgence in his early, very popular rock albums with his band (who have also remained silent).

Eddie eventually goes live on social media and answers a bunch of questions from the chat.

Yes he's married. Yes in 1991 but it wasn't legal, but he still counts it, because fuck the government, that's why.

Yes they got legally married in 2016, on their 25th wedding anniversary.

Yes it's to Steve, yes Steve was prom king at school and really popular, and a 'hot piece of ass' (and still is).

No Eddie wasn't popular, he was a nerdy piece of trailer trash like he's always claimed.

Yes he nearly died, but that was ages ago. Steve saved his life and they've been tragically in love since then.

Eddie (and Steve by proxy) somehow become the internet's favourite queer dads, despite neither of them really being active on their social media or doing anything to promote themselves. Eddie eventually gets a tiktok where he puts up dumb clips of his family and friends, and lots of random clips from the past when he was on tour/recording. Steve's in almost all of them, mostly in the background.

#WheresSteve becomes popular whenever Eddie posts something new, and if he's on live then he has to drag his long suffering hubby on camera so chat will be quiet (they just post lots of heart emojis, which confuses Steve so much because what has he done??).

[the-angst-chronicles-fanworks]

The Wolf and The Witch

Part 1/?

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

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

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

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

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

————————————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A werewolf.