steddie-spooktober

[steddie-spooktober]

five-year plan

for @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween pop-up <3

rating: G ♥ words: 4k ♥ ao3: five-year plan ♥ prompt: half-o-ween, picnic ♥ post-v4, everyone lives, pre-relationship fluff

Eddie is going to kick Steve’s ass.

“Where– the hell are you– shit, fuck– taking me, Harrington?”

Eventually. Once he could catch his breath and wasn’t reliant on him to get up this fucking hill – yeah, then he’d absolutely kick his ass for dragging him out to the middle of nowhere. (…it’s an empty threat and he knows it.)

“And why does it involve so much hiking? I’m in recovery, you jackass,” Eddie wheezes, forced to pause and lean on the cane Steve made him bring to keep himself upright.

Steve doesn’t even have the decency to look winded. Prick. He does, however, look somewhat apologetic from where he looms ahead, waiting for Eddie to catch up.

They’re about twenty-five minutes into a hike through the woods beyond Lover’s Lake, the trail of hikers’ past leading them down a winding dirt path that began veering noticeably up at a sharp thirty-degree slope about ten minutes into the walk – far enough in that Eddie couldn’t justify turning around.

“The doctors said walking was good for you! I’m just doing my part to help you get better,” Steve says, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that would have been endearing were Eddie not about to hack up a lung.

“Besides, we’re almost there. So, stop complaining. You can make it.”

“Says the guy whose insides stayed inside him,” Eddie mutters darkly, but he puts on a brave face and continues hiking behind Steve. “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

He stops dead in his tracks to whirl and face Eddie, exasperated and almost– wait, is he laughing? Great. Just what he needs.

“What part of ‘it’s a surprise!’ don’t you understand?” Steve huffs, sounding annoyingly, unwaveringly fond.

And Eddie’s ready to snark back, feeling embarrassed by his winded state, but then he’s looking at Steve – really looking – and he’s all ‘freckles dappled in sunlight on the first truly warm day of the year’ and he finds he’s run out of steam. He should lie down (figuratively), roll over, and let Steve lead him wherever he’s trying to take him. But he should probably also still get one word in, edge-wise, for the sake of propriety.

“All right, okay! It’s a surprise, I get it. Let’s just… keep going,” Eddie says, gesturing for him to get on with it.

Steve looks at Eddie for a second longer, as if gauging his response, before nodding once – satisfied with whatever he found there. Then they continue to trudge along, up, up the winding not-quite path for several more harrowing minutes, Eddie fighting the burn in his emaciated legs, praying for silent, sudden death to take him out of his misery.

It’s not until they’re cresting the peak of the hill that he begins muttering low, vague threats beneath his breath, cursing Steve and his penchant for unattainable things like wonder and whimsy.

“Surprise? Oh yeah, I’d love a surprise, Steve,” Eddie mutters forebodingly when he knows Steve can’t hear him, jabbing his cane into the ground. “Surprise you with my foot up your –”

Eddie cuts himself off as they round the peak of the hill, catching sight of the scene laid out before them. Just beyond the peak of the hill where they now stood, down another wider path between looming trees, heavy with spring leaves, lay quite the sight. About a hundred yards down, the woods parted like a storybook vignette to reveal a small clearing, bare of trees and full of sunlight and lush, verdant grass.

What was more, the clearing was currently occupied by, oh, just about everyone Eddie knew, sitting out on their blankets in the sun like something out of a goddamn fairytale. There they sat, spread out, unloading their baskets – honest-to-god, Yogi Bear picnic baskets – across their island of blankets amongst the green.

Eddie was going to be sick. And now he might actually make good on his empty threat to kick Steve’s ass, because what the fuck.

He whirls around and catches Steve’s arm before he can continue forging ahead toward their waiting group, panic seizing him.

“Whose birthday did I forget?” he hisses, tugging Steve out of sight behind one of the trees.

Steve makes a punched-out oof noise as Eddie gets him pressed up against the trees, looking (annoyingly) surprised at his strength. He wants to roll his eyes and tell Steve that not all his muscles atrophied during his three-week stay at Chateau de Colostomy Bag and, hey, doesn’t he remember that they’ve danced this lopsided tango before?

But he has more pressing issues at the moment. Like figuring out what the fuck is going on.

“Yours,” Steve mutters when he finally remembers himself, patting Eddie’s arm to get him to let go.

He drops his hand like it’s burning.

“What do you mean, mine? My birthday’s in November. It’s May, for christ’s sake!” he whines, hating how petulant he sounds, even to his own ears.

He has to keep diverting his attention between Steve and their group just ahead, back and forth, like he’s afraid he’ll get jumped if he lets either side out of his sight for too long.

“Surprise? It’s… your party, man. I don’t know what you want me to say,” Steve says with a half-hearted shrug that sends bits of bark crumbling down the front of his polo.

What Eddie wants is for Steve to say he’s just pulling his leg and that this isn’t a surprise party, but all he can manage is a series of aborted almost-words.

“Wh– You can’t–” Eddie splutters, trying to make the logic work right in his head.

Hard to do when he spots Wayne, the traitor, handing Buckley a tray of something wrapped in plastic wrap from one of the baskets. And he’s smiling. He’d told Eddie he was picking up an extra shift this morning, the lying bastard.

“Steve,” Eddie begins slowly. Calm, like he’s trying to remind himself as much as he is Steve.

“My birthday isn’t for, like– six months.”

Steve has the decency to look embarrassed, the rosiness brought on from their exertion muddling low on his cheeks, bleeding out into a blush that slants prettily down his neck. Annoying.

“It’s, uh. It’s actually… exactly six months away. Six months from May first is November first,” Steve mumbles, rubbing his arm and looking anywhere but at Eddie.

“Well, Dustin and I argued about whether it would be today or yesterday for a bit, but today worked and sounded better, so –”

“So– yeah. Here we are. Surprise,” he shakes one hand in a weak celebration that does nothing to rectify the situation.

And, wow, there’s a lot to process with that statement – Steve remembered his birthday, and he’s bashful about being caught knowing? – but it still isn’t quite making sense.

“Okay…? So, why exactly are we celebrating my birthday six months early?” Eddie asks, flinging his arm in the general direction of their group.

Steve, for his part, looks completely exasperated, rolling his eyes and mumbling under his breath as he searches the canopy above them for aid.

“– jesus, I told them you’d be like this. Knew it was a stupid idea to just go for it –”

“– Steve –”

His head whips back down, mouth twisted like he can’t figure out the right way to shape his words.

“Because!” Steve snaps, a little too loudly. Eddie has to fight the urge to slap a hand over his mouth to get him to quiet down.

He cringes at his own outburst and continues at a more acceptable volume.

“Because we need to– to– I don’t know, make up for lost time? You were the one who brought it up in the hospital.”

Eddie is about to ask Steve if he needs him to run another concussion check when the pieces finally (finally) click together for him and– oh, fuck. He’s figured it out.

    During that first hazy, drugged-out week on Hawkins General’s finest morphine drip, Steve had been at Eddie’s side, rocking his own (slightly less invasive) set of medical fashionwear.

And, probably bored out of his fucking gourd, he began asking Eddie questions. Personal questions, the kind he might normally be elusive about – or, at least, might try to evade – but Steve was letting Eddie ask right back. Who was he to avoid a temptation such as Steve Harrington (his literal savior, thanks) laying himself metaphorically bare for him?

So, yeah, they’d been sharing anecdotes Eddie ought not to have shared – including what he’d thought to be such trivial things like their middle names (Richard, after his dad – so boring. Nowhere near as cool as Eddie’s – Warwick was badass) and their birthdays (who has a baby on the fourth of July? It was almost too on the nose to believe, until he’d shown Eddie his medical band as proof).

But when Steve inquired about Eddie’s birth date, he’d gone all self-preserving and aloof about birthdays of yore because it was, in fact, an incredibly touchy subject.

“If you have to know, it’s November first. But don’t go telling folks,” Eddie remembered muttering, waving his hand dismissively at Steve as if that would keep him from asking.

He had only laughed, too good-natured to let Eddie get away with letting that slide, and asked.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Steve huffed, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Your birthday is basically on Halloween, I’d’ve thought you, of all people, would seize the opportunity to brag about it. Play up the whole evil, devil-worshipper schtick.”

Eddie had tried to get him to drop the subject, he really had – even tried feigning exhaustion to get Steve to stop pestering him about it. But he was like a fucking dog with a bone and Eddie was a weak, weak man when it came to anything Steve, or so he was reluctantly learning.

“All right, fine. If you wanna know so bad,” Eddie had finally snapped, hating the way Steve had gone all smug and attentive, waiting for him to explain.

“I, uh…” Eddie coughed, pawing at the uninjured side of his face in a jerky motion.

“I stopped celebrating my birthday after my– y’know. After my mom,” Eddie cleared his throat around the lump forming there.

They had talked about her, briefly, when the subject of parents inevitably came up. Steve’s mom was too zonked out on quaaludes (and then lushed up when the feds got rid of those in ‘83) to notice him half the time, and Eddie’s mother was, of course, dead.

Maybe they should invite Mayfield over from across the hall and the three of them could celebrate the world’s shittiest Mother’s Day.

There was a pause when Eddie couldn’t find the right words to continue, lasting just long enough that Steve made an encouraging noise, something too soft. He couldn’t look at him – didn’t want to see the smug look on his face fading as he watched him go all sympathetic and caring. Made the back of his eyes itch to consider.

It was all too much – his mom, Steve asking and feeling sorry for him – which was why he didn’t want to get into it in the first place. But he also didn’t want to leave room for him to give any stiff condolences or whatever, so Eddie barreled on before Steve could say anything and make it worse.

“It used to be her big thing, back when she was here. She’d make me a cake from scratch and Wayne always came ‘round, and it was– I dunno,” Eddie shrugged, but his heart wasn’t in it. “It always felt she was the one who made it special, even if it was my birthday. Something we made special, together.”

He was too lost in the memory of his mom sweeping her hair out of her face, eyes crinkled. Her, laughing. Just… her.

“And Wayne tried, don’t get me wrong,” Eddie added quickly, shooting Steve a conspiratorial glance out of the corner of his eye without really looking at him.

“I threw a fucking fit the first year without her, when I turned thirteen. He was just…” too gentle and too concerned and knew Eddie too much. “He was just so Wayne about it, and I couldn’t deal.”

“So, I threw the biggest tantrum I’ve ever thrown – which is fucking mortifying to remember, so thanks for making me relive that –” Eddie said, laughing wetly even though it was pretty embarrassing.

“– and then he… did what I asked,” he sighed, losing steam. “Promised not to bring it up again and, poof, no more birthdays.”

Steve was blessedly silent for once, taking in everything he had admitted to him. Looking at Steve – while he wasn’t paying attention, of course; no way he would get caught looking – Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if Steve was sorry he asked. If he regretted ever bringing up such a sore subject. Eddie wanted to placate him as much as he wanted the same for himself, so he added–

“But… I’ll let you in on a secret, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled, picking at a loose thread in the bleached cotton of the hospital blanket.

“Oh?” Steve asked, looking so fucking blindingly hopeful and happy for him that Eddie forgot himself – who he was, deep down.

“Yeah. I’m, uh. I’m thinking of revising my previous stance on birthdays and the whole –” he waved a hand at the unspoken – the ‘not celebrating them’ thing.

“Can I ask?”

He didn’t want to admit that Steve could ask him for (or to do) just about anything, and Eddie would, without hesitation. Instead, Eddie inclined his head benevolently and wordlessly explained himself before Steve could pry further.

“All this ‘not-quite dying in the not-quite apocalypse’ has really helped me reconsider some things. I’ve got a whole new lease on life, and I guess that means I should, I don’t know, celebrate it,” he said, trying so hard to sound nonchalant about it.

“Besides, I think my mom would like it better if I did. For Wayne’s sake,” Eddie added ruefully, because he couldn’t not take the easy out if it was available to him.

Steve smiled all thoughtful and knowing, like Eddie had just told him Santa was real and, wouldn’t you know, they’re adding a second Christmas! or some shit.

“Yeah. For Wayne’s sake.”

His grin kept growing until it the corners of his eyes went crinkly and Eddie was forced to distract him with discussions of Lucas’ impending birthday just to keep himself from doing something stupid, like kiss Steve for being Steve.

    The present, unhospitalized Eddie feels faint. He wonders if he’d overdone it, hiking all the way up here, and if maybe he could avoid further self-imposed embarrassment by asking to lay down. At least that way he could dodge the rest of what was shaping up to be a thoroughly mortifying day.  

“Why–?” he finally manages to croak, leaning heavily against the tree beside Steve for support.

He doesn’t, for once, care how close they’re standing, or if it’s too much. The question wasn’t really meant for Steve, more of an outward call to himself, to god – to anyone that would listen – but Steve takes it at face value and plunges ahead.

“You said you wanted to make up for lost time, and then I was, y’know, thinking about all the time already lost and what if it wasn’t so… lost? Wait, that doesn’t make any sense–” Steve cuts himself off, shaking his head and barreling on.

“Just like, what if we actually made back the time for you– with you?”

“I thought…” he clears his throat awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the level of honesty the situation was demanding of him.

“Well, I just thought ‘you can’t celebrate makeup birthdays by yourself’ so why don’t we just–” Steve gestures flaccidly at the group beyond, oblivious to their present observers.

“– celebrate now. Together. Multiple times a year, if necessary, so you can get caught up.”

Well. Shit. Eddie’s at a complete loss for words because Steve, who continued to surprise the hell out of him at every turn, had planned… all this. Had remembered Eddie, thought about him, wanted to celebrate him (twice a year!) just to, what? Help him get a redo on Eddie’s dashed childhood dreams? He wanted to pinch himself but there was no way he could have dreamt this shit up.

“But it’s not my birthday,” Eddie hears himself rasp from a million miles away. He doesn’t mean to sound so… small.

“It’s a make-up birthday. There aren’t any rules about when you have to celebrate those,” Steve says, scrunching his eyebrows together and giving Eddie what he supposes might pass for an encouraging smile.

But he falters when he clocks Eddie’s (woozy? bereft? nauseated??) expression and jumps in for damage control.

“But, anyway,” he says, hurrying to rush through the rest of his explanation. “I know this isn’t much, and of course, obviously we’ll totally do something better for your actual birthday, but I figured, hey, let’s start small while you’re still on the mend and we can work our way to bigger, better parties later.”

Eddie wants to tell Steve it’s okay (even if he’s not so sure about that), he doesn’t need to blow a gasket trying to explain everything, but Steve barely sucks in a breath before he’s diving back in.

“And, yeah– I know, I know. It’s stupid to think we could ever stack up against what your mom did for your birthdays and this is probably a lot – way too much – but we– I wanted you to have this. You deserve it and I think we could all use an excuse to eat some fucking cake right now. So, if you need an excuse, there’s your out.”

Steve rushes through the last bit of his speech, looking exhausted and out of breath. It sounds a lot like one of Buckley’s arrhythmic rants and it’s endearing as shit. Steve’s looking anywhere but at Eddie, cheeks stained pink. He watches Steve fidget restlessly while he waits for Eddie to respond and, for once, Eddie doesn’t look away. He wants Steve to catch him noticing him.

And he does, for a second – glancing back at Eddie when he takes too long to respond. He watches the way his skin changes hue before his eyes, pink to red. Stressed. Embarrassed. Desperate for this gesture to go over well. He watches Steve break (again), caving in against the crushing blankness of Eddie’s non-response.

“I figured if we double up, you’ll be back on track in like, four– five years, max. Five years and you’ll have birthday accounted for.”

Steve finally seems to take a breath now, all his plans laid bare for Eddie to consider. He still isn’t quite looking at him, but Eddie knows him (it’s insane but it’s true, he knows Steve), and he knows Steve’s never faced a challenge he would back down from – up to and, apparently, including Eddie himself.

Eddie needs to blink a couple of times, swallowing drily when he realizes, yes, he is expected to weigh in on all these grand proclamations.

“Okay. That… makes sense,” Eddie begins slowly. “But I’ve got a follow up question, if that’s permitted.”

Steve scrunches his eyebrows together but nods, indicating that he should continue.

“What about my actual birthdays? All the new ones that aren’t part of the make-up agenda. Did you account for that in this five-year plan of yours?” Eddie asks, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

There’s a thoughtful pause where Steve finally (finally!) meets his gaze, eyes searching his face. He eventually shrugs, lazily, but there’s a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s amused – happy Eddie has caught on and is willing to play along.

“Well, no. I hadn’t,” he admits, Eddie’s serious façade breaking Steve’ as he cracks a smile like he just can’t help himself.

“But we could always triple up, I suppose. Quarterly parties, maybe. ‘s a good excuse to celebrate more.”

“Can’t argue with a good excuse,” Eddie says ruefully, barely managing not to smile back at him for the sake of the joke.

“Besides– we’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out, right?” Steve asks, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to suggest they spend every birthday and not-quite birthday together indefinitely. Like it’s a given.

And, okay– Eddie had never been fortunate enough to think about time like that. As a given thing, something sure. He’s always thought about it in more finite terms – frail and fleeting, something so easily lost it was best not to think about the future in terms of existing definitely, lest he tempt some cruel god into snatching it away.

Nothing in his life had ever been a sure thing, not even staunch, dependable Wayne. Friends, family, relationships – they could all go poof and vanish at any time, and with no reason at all.

But Eddie was, in all his twenty (celebrated or otherwise) years, realizing that maybe that wasn’t how he should approach things anymore. Maybe he should let Steve and his blinding optimism rub off on him (not like that, but also very much like that) a little more.

So, yeah. Sure. Fuck it. They had all the time in the world. Why not? Who says things can’t be forever?

“Right,” Eddie says, mouth dry, eyes stinging against his will.

Steve must see the conflict in his eyes, or, at least, sees something there that has him reaching out for Eddie, grasping for his shoulder. His touch is hesitant at first, like he might wrench his hand away, wary of scaring Eddie off, but then he… settles. Lets his hand go still, thumb resting along the curve of his collarbone, trailing through the fabric of his shirt. He’s warm.

“We will do something better for the real deal, I swear.”

“We just– I wanted to do something for you today, even if you’re still in recovery,” Steve says, like Eddie would ever get hung up on how big of a party this was or the size of the cake or whatever bullshit people preoccupied themselves worrying over. Like that mattered at all.

Eddie has to swallow, and it’s hard because real, genuine tears are threatening to leak out and he’s mustering every ounce of willpower he has to keep from crying.

“No, it’s…” perfect. “It’s great. This is all so great. Thank you, Steve.”

It sounds a lot closer to ‘you’re great’ than he’d meant, but they were already here and Eddie was already swaying into Steve’s grip on his shoulder, too close, and if Steve didn’t already know how gone Eddie was on him, then he wasn’t going to hide it. They were being close enough to honest right now anyway.

“Of course,” Steve says, just as easily as before.

Like it’s true, like he means it (because it is and he does).

Eddie can’t help himself anymore, he has to wipe at his stinging, traitor eyes because everything’s gone all misty, his vision swimming. Steve lets him shrug his arm away and does the decent thing and stares out at their group just ahead, allowing Eddie to not-so-surreptitiously wipe at his tears.

It’s stupid, being so ridiculously overcome by a birthday party that isn’t even legit, but it’s also wonderful and it only makes him want to cry harder or do something insane like pull Steve in for a kiss or something equally as batshit.

He settles for bumping his shoulder against him, commiserating, and is rewarded for it when Steve bumps him back, leaning into the motion until they’re just resting against one another. Eddie sniffles, following his gaze through the parting of the trees toward their group.

Spots Elder Byers and Elder Wheeler leaned up against one another, talking with Wayne and Buckley in a circle across their blanket. Sees his kids – all their people – all amassed together in the sunshine. Waiting for them. For him.

All he had to do was walk forward, and he would be a welcome addition to this quaint picture of domesticity laid out before them.

“You ready?” Steve murmurs, quiet, even though they’ve yet to be spotted.

Just walk forward. Eddie tells himself that, for once, it’ll be easy.

“Yeah. I think so."

[steddie-spooktober]

HALFWAY TO HALLOWEEN POP-UP MASTERLIST

thank you all so much to those who participated/posted!! i appreciate you all so much 🤍🎃🍓👻🌸

late entries will be reblogged here through the end of the week if needed, but here are the links to the works posted!

picnic fog half-o-ween the collection on AO3!

see you all again in June for our Summerween event!

noelle

[steddie-spooktober]

not the loss but the thing misplaced

ao3 Written for @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween prompt, “fog,” 995 words. Rated G, Missing Scene, season 4, the walk through The Upside Down woods, Eddie Munson Backstory

“How pissed d’you think they would be,” Eddie says, trying to sound unbothered, “if I asked them to slow down?”

He watches the glow of Steve’s flashlight scatter across the forest floor. It’s not a pretty sight, creepy vines and other nasty shit all harshly exposed, but it’s better than looking ahead and seeing—

“Nance wouldn’t mind. Robin…” Steve gives a vague hum. “Maybe? She’s got this thing where, like, once she builds up momentum she doesn’t really wanna stop. Going uphill especially, I think she thinks she’s gonna fall if she doesn’t do it all at once. One time we were helping Dustin take apart this… transmitter? Or something, doesn’t matter. Anyway, at Weathertop—”

“Weathertop?” Against his better judgment, Eddie looks up, but at least he’s got a distraction for now.

“Yeah, it’s Dustin’s name for that huge hill, y’know, the highest point in Hawkins.”

It’s a cute thought, but Eddie’s fond reply is stolen from him as he inadvertently glances ahead. He doesn’t say anything, but he feels the weight of Steve’s eyes on him.

“You okay? Did you see something?”

Steve raises the flashlight with renewed purpose. Eddie shakes his head. Tries to think of how to phrase this in the least mortifying way possible.

“Nah, man, it’s… it’s so dumb, never mind.”

Great, his go-to tactic: avoidance.

“Oh, yeah? Try me.”

There’s a pointed silence. And, as if Steve’s put some magic in the air, Eddie feels compelled to break it. Even the claws of his doubt that have sunk the deepest seem to relax slightly, and as he takes a breath, he’s hit with a sudden certainty: Steve won’t laugh.

“It’s just—just a thing from when I was a kid, y’know? I don’t, um, I’m not the biggest fan of, like, fog and shit.” He keeps his voice as light as he can, like maybe that can make the fear smaller. But Steve just looks at him, so earnestly listening, and he ends up tacking on more of the truth than he planned to. “I used to think it’d like. Take, um. Take people away.”

It skirts the edges of the full story—of the long nights he’d be left alone in his old home, waiting for his dad to come back. The place backed onto some woods, and when he was desperate he’d sit outside with his heart in his mouth, just watching the fog roll in.

You’re alone, the creeping mist would whisper. You’re all alone, and they’re never coming back.

He’d broken only once; the unhappiest of years had bled into one, but he couldn’t have been more than ten. He’d called Wayne. And back then, Wayne was only slightly more familiar than a stranger—it’d only be much later that Eddie would figure out the distance was a deliberate choice on his dad’s part—but he stayed on the line, and he must’ve missed his shift but never once mentioned it, just kept talking to Eddie quietly.

Eddie can’t remember how the phone call ended—his next clear memory is of Wayne’s car pulling up early in the morning, the gold of his headlights burning through the fog; he drove all the way from Hawkins, Eddie had thought with a childish wonder, as if Wayne had been on an impossible journey in an adventure book.

His dad must’ve returned at some point because Eddie vaguely recalls eavesdropping outside, dizzy with lack of sleep. It’s one of the only times he’s ever heard Wayne raise his voice: “For fuck’s sake, Al, that’s your kid.”

Steve absentmindedly passes the flashlight from one hand to the other. He looks thoughtful. “No kidding? Me too, kinda.”

You’re sweet, Eddie thinks; he can’t help it.  

He nudges Steve’s side with his elbow, “That’s nice of you and all, but you don’t need to make me feel better.”

“Hey, rude, I was being serious,” Steve says, with a lightheartedness that suggests maybe he’s sidestepping something just as much as Eddie. “I get it.”

It’s between one step and the next that an answer comes to Eddie. His mental map of Hawkins unfurls, and he zeroes in on the Harrington house; of course, Steve’s place backs onto the woods, too. There’s something undeniably comforting about a shared experience, however long ago. But mostly Eddie feels a twinge of sadness. I hope you weren’t as alone as I was.

“But that wasn’t the big fear,” Steve says—louder, more confident, like he’s somehow heard Eddie’s train of thought and is really saying, Come on, man, that’s enough. Have fun with me.

“No? Enlighten me, Harrington.”

“It was,” Steve says, as if he’s a very serious newscaster, “the sound of the toilet flushing.”

Eddie snorts. “It was not.”

“It was so! That thing sounded like a monster, dude, it was, like—” Grinning, Steve makes a juvenile noise in demonstration; it sounds more like static from a radio. It’s exaggerated and ridiculous, and so obviously done to make Eddie laugh. “And I’d run downstairs like this—” He covers an ear with his free hand, briefly stops walking to do a comical jog on the spot, “—so I wouldn’t have to hear it. Now that is embarrassing.”

“Okay, fine, dude,” Eddie says, still chuckling, “you win.”

Thank you.

The laughter helps, but it doesn’t quite stop the flare of anxiety when he catches sight of the girls again, the fog rendering them into nothing but shadows, like they might just vanish any second now.

“Hey, you know what?” Steve says kindly. “I don’t think Robin’ll be pissed at all.”

He whistles, and that brings back warmer memories of Steve in his element on the basketball court, Eddie pretending not to watch.

And as they catch up with Nancy and Robin, Eddie can see now that it’s not so bad really; the flashlight’s beam easily cuts through the fog. Steve smiles encouragingly, and he feels on the verge of some glimmering emotion; feels like he’s been given something that won’t ever slip away.

your fear but a lingering, limbic fear torn from shreds of forgotten years. Only that much is clear. —Alice B. Fogel, Forgiving the Darkness

[steddie-spooktober]

good morning! here's a short little second part to this for the @steddie-spooktober halfway to halloween pop-up!

rated: G | 935 words | full work on AO3

The morning of his second date with Steve starts out on just this side of cold, the sun shining down over dew and through the fog curling up from the earth.

A not all that unusual cold night in the still warming summer that is sure to bloom into a clear 70° later in the day.

Their first date (or was this their first? The last was a double technically) went over smooth as butter; Steve and Robin getting on like a house fire over late night pancakes the day of the fair.

Eddie’s feet were sore, there were still totes of merchandise stuffed into Robin and Chrissy’s backseat, but all four were laughing and joking for a good couple hours more in that booth.

Rob and Chris had driven with Eddie to Benny’s, but Steve was the one to take him home that night, pulling Eddie into a kiss in the driveway as the windows started to fog up around them.

Today, however, Eddie is picking Steve up from his place for their second (he’s decided, it’s their second.) date.

Stomach rolling with nerves, even this early in the day, Eddie gets up and starts getting ready.

He’s attempting what Chrissy calls an ‘everything shower’, he doesn’t have the whole shaving things thing to his to worry about like she includes in hers, but he showers as long as he can to scrub every inch of himself clean, breaks out a tub of body scrub Chrissy gave him that smells like grapefruit, does a full wash and dry of his hair to include the damn diffuser attachment on the damn hairdryer AND the curly hair goops Chrissy had helped him figure out originally. Damn, he loves that girl.

He even made sure to take his shirt for today out of the dryer right when it was done so it didn’t get any ridiculous wrinkles in it as he and Wayne’s iron has taken to melting even Wayne’s fire retardant ‘nice shirts’.

“Why do you need your date shirts to be the same material as your coveralls??”

“Sue me for not wantin’ my shirt to fuse to my skin if I have to save some orphans from a burning building mid-date.”

“....Is that a situation you think you’ll find yourself in?”

“Never hurts to be prepared.”

In any case, Eddie was showered, dressed, and as pretty’d up as he could manage on his own, and with 20 minutes to spare.

“You look great, Eddie!!” Chrissy squeals as soon as she picks up the video call, “He’s gonna want to ravish you right there in the park.”

“You sure? My curls aren’t too curl-y?”

“Is that a thing?” he hears Robin’s voice before he sees her, “Are curls not supposed to be curly?”

Chrissy pushes her away with a palm to the face, “They look perfect Eddie, you ran your fingers through them and everything?” He nods, “Then they’re perfect. Maybe just find a light breeze to ruffle them in and you’re golden.”

“And all the food we decided on is good?”

Chrissy nods, Robin’s voice filters back through, “As long as you have turkey on some of those sandwiches, you can’t fail.”

“And no, the chocolate strawberries are not ‘Too cheesy’, or ‘overdone’, they are a classic for a reason.”

“And Steve loves chocolate covered strawberries!” Robin calls again.

“He does?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Okay, okay.. I can do this.. It’s already our second date. No worries, right?”

“I thought it was your firs–”

Chrissy cuts her off, “Right! It’ll be fun! Don’t forget the blanket, and remember: the middle tree of the three, the others had too many roots.”

“Right…” Eddie nods, thanking his lucky stars again that Chrissy was his friend; she’d insisted on scoping out the perfect spot at the park for his and Steve's picnic date days ahead of time. Somewhere not too close to anything of import, somewhere where the parking lot was emptier even on a perfect sunny day, somewhere up wind from the often-used park grills.

“It’ll be great Eddie, now hurry up or you’ll be late!!”

–

Everything goes smoothly, perfect even; he gets to Steve’s right on time, says hello to Dustin and Max, and Their Spot in the park is just as perfect as he and the girls expected it to be.

So everything was great. Except the one thing he forgot. Gum. Mints. Anything to get the onion smell off his breath.

And of course he doesn’t remember he forgot them until Steve leans up over him on the blanket.

“Wait, no.” Eddie says, turning his face away from Steve’s searching lips.

Steve’s face falls almost imperceptibly, “Everything okay?”

“Perfect, actually, except I forgot the mints.”

His brow scrunches in confusion, “Mints?” he cups his hand over his mouth and checks his breath, “Does my–”

“No! No, no, it’s mine,” Eddie explains quickly, “I have onion breath. I always do after I eat them, even just the little bit that was on the sandwiches.”

“Eddie,” Steve’s concern melts into what Eddie can only describe as exasperated fondness. “You had coffee breath the first time I kissed you. Onion breath is nothing.”

“Oh…?”

“Oh.” Steve nods, leaning down to kiss him into the soft grass beneath their blanket, “And I’m sure your morning breath won’t be a problem either.”

“You’re getting my morning breath now?” Eddie laughs around Steve’s lips, “Presumptuous, Stevie dear.”

Steve snorts, then sighs, laying back down on the blanket. “And to think, I almost didn’t even drive those two to the fair.” he pauses, “I think it was worth it though.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve turns his head to smile crookedly at him, “I met you, didn’t I?”

and then they live happily ever after the end 🥰

[steddie-spooktober]

Alpha watching (and how not to do it)

For @steddie-spooktober prompts, picnic fog (+ halfway to halloween) and @steddiebingo prompt, ‘voyeurism.’

Rating: M; WC: 2683; Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, voyeurism, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, snuggles, fluff, mentions of nudity and sexual content, slightly under negotiated kink, light D/s undertones. Summary: O!Steve loves to secretly watch. A!Eddie loves being watched and is ready to take good care of his little audience of one. I realized I hadn’t written any of the kink prompts on my steddiebingo card so I figured I better get going! Read on Ao3

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

It was late Wednesday afternoon.

For Steve, that meant heading down to the lake—not Lover’s Lake, one of the smaller, hidden ones. The one where Eddie Munson and his band hung out, enjoying a lazy picnic with beer and pretzels.

Steve, of course, wasn’t invited. Nope, he’d lurk in a freakin’ bush, like the tragic Omega perv he’d become, and watch them.

Through his dad’s clunky old binoculars.

The first time it’d happened by accident—he’d been taking Will Byers bird watching, okay? It was totally innocent. Trouble was, once they’d spotted Eddie and his friends, Steve couldn’t look away.

How was he supposed to not stare at Eddie Munson sitting cross-legged, shirtless and shameless, smoking a joint? With all those sizzling hot tats plastering his criminally lickable torso?

“Shut your mouth before you swallow a bug, Steve,” said Will, softly. “Why don’t we go say hi? They come here every week, and Eddie’s cool.”

“No way,” said Steve, and they’d left then, before they’d been spotted in return. He had to get the kid home.

He moved birding to Tuesdays. Wednesday became Steve’s ‘creepy stalker’ day, which he wasn’t exactly proud of. On the other hand, he needed another hit of Eddie, and he’d literally no clue how to actually start a conversation with the guy:

Hey there, Munson. I’m the douchebag whose former friends used to bully the crap out of your friends. Had a low-key crush on you since fifth grade, and now I spend my entire life dreaming about you jumping my Omega bones.

Yeah, I used to blurt these things out to the objects of my affection, no sweat, and facepalm about it later.

Thing is, I don’t hang out with anyone my own age anymore, apart from Robin at work, and… You’re different, okay?

For the past six Wednesdays, Steve had crouched in a prickly bush, torturing himself with longing and a growing tinge of self-loathing. He shouldn’t be here. But, oh God, he loved watching Eddie—who was so revved up and alive, so commanding, so Alpha. He loved how Eddie’s friends took all their cues from him, laughed when he laughed, fell deadly silent when he as much as whispered for their attention.

And when Eddie brought out his acoustic guitar and strummed, sweet and mellow, Steve would sigh his heart out and die a little inside.

If Eddie happened to glance roughly his way, he’d die ten times over. He’d literally stop breathing, blood jamming up. When the Alpha’s attention wandered on, he’d feel empty, a little dirty.

What would happen if Eddie caught him, spying on him and his friends?

Dammit, some weird, messed-up part of him was desperate to find out. That fear that trickled down his spine when he thought about Eddie catching him… punishing him, even?

It was fear, for sure.

It was also, somehow, delicious as warm maple-syrup. Especially when he daydreamed that angry Eddie might fuck him anyway, all mean and a bit rough. Then kiss away his tears and snuggle him till he wept fresh and happy ones.

It was nearly May now, and the nights were getting warmer.

So here he was—scrambling up a tree, those binoculars swinging by their strap around his neck. He shimmied along a branch, under the cover of spring foliage, all to get the best view possible of Eddie and his dudes swimming.

Eddie hadn’t bothered to bring his swim trunks.

Eddie and co were splashing and yelling, generally fooling around. Steve was getting squirmy and decidedly damp between his legs. He even indulged a little side fantasy about Corroded Coffin banging him all at once—would his ‘freaky’ Omega biology accommodate that?

Then he forgot Gareth and the others even existed.

Eddie strolled out of the lake, butt naked, brazen, his Alpha dick bobbing before him.

Steve twiddled with the focus on the binoculars. Wow, that lake was cold! How big did Eddie get when he wasn’t freezing his balls off? Eddie wandered around, still laughing and joking, still freakin’ naked, scratching his pits.

Which should not be hot.

Eddie shaking his hair around like a soggy dog was equally agonizing.

Steve reached to adjust his wet chafing panties, wobbled on his branch, smothered a terrified wail. By the time he’d regained his balance, the band were drying themselves and dressing, gathering up their gear. They exchanged chummy pack hugs with Eddie, that made Steve hiss with jealousy, and wandered off.

Apart from Eddie.

He settled down, damp clothes clinging, idly strumming his guitar.

A little keening noise escaped Steve’s throat.

Eddie wasn’t leaving. The sun was beginning to dip, and Steve really, really needed to go home. One of his butt-cheeks had gone to sleep, and his thighs ached from gripping the branch. He raised his binoculars for a final peek, only to find the lens had misted up. Bummer.  Was he really breathing that heavily over wet-dog Eddie?

Turned out, he wasn’t.

A thick mist rolled across the lake. A few fleeting heartbeats later, Steve couldn’t see the bottom of his tree. His hyper-focussed, Eddie-obsessed senses scanned out, and he detected… Wolves? Bears? Rogue Alphas? Howls and blood-curdling shrieks?

To be fair, he couldn’t scent anything specific beyond marijuana, wild garlic, and the fading hints of Eddie and his gang. All he could hear was a hooting owl. No matter. Scary shit lurked in forests at twilight, shit that preyed on dumb little stray Omegas. He’d stayed way later than the last few weeks, and… Holy Shit!

He suddenly recalled tonight was half-o-ween! He wasn’t into that superstitious stuff, but… Ugh, Robin believed in it. As a rule, she was annoyingly right about most things.

He scrambled down the tree and fell the last bit, landing awkwardly with an actual squeal. He rubbed his ankle, which had taken the brunt of his fall and throbbed like a bitch. He managed to get up and limp on. He needed to get back to his bike, tho’ in the thick fog, he couldn’t find his path, let alone any landmarks.

He ended up groping forward, zombie-style, to prevent himself colliding with the trees. A minute or so later, he managed to stumble straight into the stupid lake.

He went under, flailed, then splashed up through the surface, gasping and choking. He’d gotten an arm tangled in the strap of the suddenly super-heavy binoculars, and he was panicking his soaked Omega butt off.

A hand emerged from the fog, grabbed the scruff of his collar, and dragged him onto the muddy bank.

Eddie’s hand. Eddie… Eddie!?!

Steve crumpled forward to hack up a lungful of yuck. Eddie scraped Steve’s hair from his face, patted and rubbed between his shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, little Omega.” Eddie carefully untangled him from that ton weight around his neck. “Gonna be okay. I gotcha.”

Steve slumped sideways into Eddie, who wrapped a towel around him, with a muttered apology about it being thin and damp. To Steve, Eddie’s hands alone felt better than the plushest towel his mom ever paid top dollar for.

“Sssssh, it’s okay,” cooed Eddie. “I gotcha. You’ll be okay.”

Steve was already okay. He was cold and shivery, still a little frightened, and growing more okay by the second. Eddie’s hand moved gently up his spine and threaded tenderly through his sopping hair. Eddie’s warmth, his oaky-smoky scent, seeped through Steve, enveloping him in a super-overwhelming hug, and even his shivers lost their bite.

Eddie dabbed him drier, soothing and cuddling him, while time lost meaning, and then…

“How you doing, Steve? Feeling better?”

How could he not be? His face was notched cosily beneath Eddie’s chin, and he was drugged by the heady scents of bittersweet woodsmoke and…. Oooooh, evening dew on freshly cut spring grass?

He answered, “Mmmmm.”

“Cool. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” Eddie draped his jean jacket around Steve, hooked both his hands under Steve’s shoulders and hauled them both to their feet. Steve whimpered at the loss of close-contact, and Eddie braced him a little tighter. “Not gonna faint on me? Do I need to carry you?”

“M’good.” He was a touch lightheaded, mind, and the idea of the Alpha carrying him wasn’t unappealing. Eddie brushed Steve’s chin up with his knuckles, and Steve gawked up into Eddie’s gorgeous brown eyes. They were warm and caring, tho’ that was definitely the hint of a smirk, and…

…Steve’s mushy Omega brain finally remembered the plot.

Shiiiiit!

Did Eddie know what he’d been doing out here? Had he guessed? Was it written all over Steve’s guilt-drenched face?

“Come on, you,” said Eddie, and he scooped Steve against his hip and started guiding him off through the mist.

“Thanks for helping me out of the lake,” said Steve, voice pitching incriminatingly high. “Yeah, I was out here, um, bird spotting. Would’ve been okay, ya know. I’m a pretty good swimmer and all, but yeah… grateful.”

“You’re welcome” said Eddie, with a delicious rub of Steve’s back. Then he stopped dead and twirled Steve to face him: “Let’s cut the crap, Sweetpea. Did you enjoy the show you actually came out to watch?”

It was amazing how someone as shivery as Steve could send that much hot blood to his cheeks.

“C’mon, don’t keep me waiting. Reviews make me edgy.” Eddie’s toothy grin was pure predator.

Oh God. It was over. Steve addressed his squelchy Nikes. “Yeah. Yeah, I enjoyed it.”

“Feels good to get that out in the open, huh?” Eddie squeezed him, so gentle, so very kind and reassuring.

Steve nodded. Tho’ he did feel slightly sick.

Eddie continued helping Steve back to his van, as supportive and tender as if Steve hadn’t been outed as the worst kind of peeping Tom. Steve, meanwhile, clung around Eddie’s midriff as tightly as his wobbly arms allowed.

Eddie ‘fessed up, too.

He had sensed Steve watching, pretty much since the start. He’d caught a whiff of Steve’s scent—through his blockers, like wtf? That said, Steve was all too aware he perfumed madly whenever he’d got Eddie in his sights.

“Why didn’t you just say hi?” Eddie pressed Steve into his van’s passenger seat, leaning to help Steve, who fumbled with his seatbelt. He flashed that toothy grin at point-blank range: “Am I really so terrifying?”

Steve bit his lip, swollen from agonised chewing. Eddie could be scary, all Alpha and commanding. He was also an earth-shatteringly good guy. Steve knew it, had seen it, had been told it by friends. He’d made excuses to himself and clung to his habit of lurking because… because…

That treacherous lower lip wobbled. “I couldn’t! I’d got in the habit of snooping, and I was scared, and it… it got kinda lonely, and part of me wanted you to find out, I… Oh God, don’t hate me!”

“Sssssshhh, it’s okay. I don’t hate you.” Eddie pressed Steve’s head to his chest and rocked him, in the most comforting cuddle yet. “You like to watch, Baby. That’s okay. You like to watch, and it screwed you up inside, because you figured you were being a sneaky little shit, and in the end, you wanted to get caught. It’s cool. It’s fine. It’s a game we can play, huh?” He brushed his thumb, featherlight, across Steve’s damp cheek. Then growled viciously and lifted Steve’s chin in a pinching grip. “The only thing you’re never gonna do again, Omega, is take stupid risks. Like I could leave with the others on Half-o-ween, deserting you to get home safe alone.”

He slammed the door and stomped around to the driver’s side.

“Thank you,” sniffled Steve, when Eddie slid in beside him and notched the heater onto full blast. “Thank you, and honestly, I’m sorry. I’m really grateful you stayed to look out for me.”

Eddie yanked the handbreak and winked. “Any time. Um… you got pondweed in your hair, Sweets.” As Steve frantically raked for it, Eddie reached to pluck it out. Then handed him a spotless handkerchief from the glove compartment to dry his eyes.

“My uncle Wayne never lets me go without.”

The journey home should’ve been dead awkward. It really wasn’t. They chit-chatted about school, work and mutual friends, and discovered they got along as easily as if they’d been hanging out for years.

When Eddie pulled up at the end of the Harringtons’ drive, he tested Steve’s binoculars then handed them back. “The lenses are fogged up with damp. You gonna get into trouble? Do I need to come in and tell your daddy it wasn’t your fault?”

“It kinda was my fault,” mumbled Steve, swallowing a lump from his throat. That Eddie cared enough to make sure his dad wasn’t gonna flay his ass meant a lot. “Honestly, they’re his old army ones or something. It’s no big deal.”

“Cool.” Eddie went around and opened Steve’s door, took his hand, and helped him out.

Then he plonked himself down in the spot Steve had vacated. He yanked Steve down onto his lap and clamped an arm around his chest.

“This is what’s going to happen.” Eddie’s mouth ghosting against Steve’s ear set his breaths shortening, his heart skipping a beat before going apeshit. “I gotta go back and collect the rest of my gear from the lake. You’re gonna go inside, and have a nice hot bath, and go to bed and get a decent night’s rest so you don’t get sick. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after work and we’ll have some fun. What d’ya say?”

Steve nodded madly: “Yes, yes. I’d like that, Eddie.”

“What did you call me?” A hand slammed on Steve’s upper thigh, squeezing brutally. At the same time, Steve grew acutely aware of the Alpha dick slabbed beneath his ass. And yes, a fresh wave of dampness oozed between his squirming thighs. “I’ve been real good to you tonight, Omega. I’ve taken care of you. I’ve watched over you for weeks while you played your twisted little game. You gonna show me some respect?”

“Yes. Sorry. I’d like that, Alpha, please. I’d like to have fun with you tomorrow.” He licked his lips, nervous in that oh-so-good way, wriggling and trembling because he simply couldn’t help himself. “Thank you again for caring for me, Alpha.”

“Okay, Sweetheart.” Eddie slavered his tongue up Steve’s throat. It was all Steve could do not to go limp and offer it up for a way-too-premature bite.

Then he was squeaking again, as Eddie pitched him back onto his decidedly unsteady feet. He’d no sooner regained his balance, than Eddie jumped up behind, loosely grabbed one of Steve’s wrists and swatted his rear.

“Ow!” Steve grabbed his stinging butt.

“Sweet dreams,” said Eddie, pulling Steve close again before adding, “They better be about me.”

“They always are, Alpha.” Steve smiled the truest smile he’d felt in an age. Telling the truth filled him with happy, fuzzy feelings that he was determined to earn.

Eddie’s hands came up around Steve’s face then. The kiss happened, delicious and slow, with plenty of tongue. It brought warmth to Steve’s heart and to some place deeper—that place that ached for Eddie, ached for more of the Alpha than tonight was gonna bring.

Eddie started Steve up the driveway with another sharp spank, which set Steve’s ass tingling as yummily as his lips.

“I’ll be here at six,” called Eddie, with a touch of to-die-for gruffness. “Dead on. You better be ready, Babe. I don’t like to wait.”

Even before he’d gotten his key in the front door, Steve knew he was going to do exactly what his Alpha told him to do that evening. His shoulders felt loose, his heart fizzy and light.

Eddie knew. And Eddie… returned his feelings. He even got Steve’s craziness. Steve would no longer have to cringe over how he’d passed his Wednesday afternoons. He might be able to claw back some self-respect.

Tomorrow, tho’?

Maybe he’d make his Alpha wait in the van until quarter past six and see what happened then.

🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

my steddie fic on AO3

[steddie-spooktober]

Sasquatch isn't real and Steve's not a Banshee

Rating: G ◆ Words: 2k ◆ Tags: Established Relationship, Cryptid Road Trip, Banshee Steve Harrington, Human Eddie Munson, Being outed as not human by a friendly cryptid ◆ @steddiebingo Squares - Monster AU/ Road trip /Lake ◆ @stmonstercalendar - Banshee ◆ @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween - Picnic Ao3

“Steeeve!” Eddie sung out, walking into their apartment, finding Steve in the kitchen. “Look what we’re doing this Spring Break!”

“Well, that’s Easter break and the kids are all heading home from college, so Dustin made a whole itinerary of activities and get togeth-”

“Yeah no, we’re not doing any of that. Look at this,” Eddie said, waving something around Steve’s head.

“Stop that.” Steve batted at the cloth Eddie had shoved in his face, yanking it from him. He opened it up to see a dish towel tourist map of all the supposed cryptids that resided in Indiana. “The fuck is this?”

“It’s our Spring Break plans!” Eddie pointed at the different creatures. “It’ll be like a little mini road trip just around the state! It’ll prepare us for this summer’s cross country road trip. And maybe we’ll see something cool or spooky!”

Amusement flooded Steve at seeing Eddie’s openly excited expression. “Fine, but you get to tell Dustin. And don’t get your hopes up about seeing any of them.”

“Yes!” Eddie grabbed Steve’s shoulders, hopping around him. “This is gonna be great! Let’s make some lists!”

Three weeks later, the truck rumbled under them as they set out on the road. The back end filled with coolers and suitcases, Eddie sitting shotgun with a real map, cryptid locations marked by red stars. Eddie had made a list of all the locations he wanted to hit, Steve had planned the most direct route to take, and Dustin gave them both an earful for missing most of his week of plans.

Their first destination lay just a couple hours down the highway. Eddie hoped to see Meshekenabek, The Monster of Lake Manitou. Steve knew Eddie wouldn’t see anything, but it’d still be a fun for him!

“So, you think we’ll see anything?” Eddie asked.

Steve palmed the steering wheel and reached a hand over to rest on Eddie’s thigh. “No, babe. You’re not gonna see anyone- thing. Anything out there. But we can still have a nice picnic and a nap by the lake.”

He tapped Eddie’s thigh, humming along with the song on the radio. He felt eyes on him, flicking a glance over, Eddie was staring at him in contemplation.

“What’cha thinking about so hard over there?”

“You keep doing that.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow toward him, brushing his thumb across his thigh and humming. “I guess, this is where I ask. Doing what?”

Eddie tapped Steve’s hand lightly. “Even while planning, you kept using pronouns for all the cryptids. And then you’d immediately be all shifty or try to laugh it off. So, I guess, this is where I ask. Do you know something I don’t?”

Steve smirked at the perfect set up. “Oh, babe, I know of things beyond your wildest imagination.”

Eddie laughed like Steve knew he would, hopefully distracted enough to move on.

“Steve, come on. We fought literal demon monsters in hell. We know a girl with actual real life powers. If you know that Sasquatch is real, you can tell me. Please tell me Sasquatch is real.” Eddie clasped Steve’s hand between his and held them up under his chin.

Steve knew he was making his eyes all big and wet, beseeching. Eyes Steve can’t help, but to always give into. Good thing he was driving, Steve was saved from the full force of that look. But he could still feel it, his heart and belly trying with all their might to make him look over at Eddie, to just tell him.

“Eddie. Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just because Hawkins happens to be a gateway to hell, doesn’t mean all that other stuff in your books, and dish towel, is real.”

Steve felt Eddie lower their hands to his lap, Eddie flipping it palm up, so he could trace Steve’s life lines. But he didn’t say anything. The sound from the radio filled the cab. It wasn’t tense, but Steve could feel Eddie thinking.

“Ok,” Eddie finally said.

They spent the rest of the drive bopping along to the radio, Eddie reading some paranormal books he’d checked out of the library. They passed through the town of Rochester and followed their map to the lake. They drove through a few neighborhoods until they found a spot to pull over.

Steve dropped the tailgate to slide the cooler to the edge, grabbing out some pops and sandwiches. Eddie grabbed his “Explorer’s Bag” holding a notebook, pens, sketching pencils, disposable camera, and polaroid camera. They walked down to the grassy edge of the lake, picking a spot to plop down. Steve got out their sandwiches, laying them on their baggies, and popped open his drink. Eddie stared out at the lake, waiting.

Steve took a bite of his sandwich. “So, what now? We just wait to for a sea serpent to pop up to say hi?”

“I don’t know, didn’t really think of this part.” Eddie glanced at Steve. “In my head, I guess we’d show up, see something suspicious and, I don’t know, track the clues? Maybe this wasn’t the most thought out plan. Should we just go home after this?”

“At least it’s pretty.” Steve nodded out at the lake. “I don’t mind road tripping just to see some nice spots. Bet a store in town has some touristy stuff we could pick up.”

“Yeah, ok.” Eddie didn’t look pacified, but at least he started eating.

Steve felt a little bad that Eddie wasn’t going to get what he wanted out of the trip, but Steve honestly didn’t mind just driving around the state, spending time with Eddie. They didn’t always get a lot of this kind of alone time, even living together, what with work and activities, Robin and Corroded Coffin.

“I’m gonna go grab the chips, hold down the picnic while I’m gone,” Eddie said, standing to run back to the truck. Steve looked back out over the rippling, blue lake, clouds reflected in its surface. It was so peaceful-

Splash

Steve tensed. It was probably just a fish or a bird landing, it definitely wasn’t-

Splash!

Steve stood, walking over to the lake, making it look like he was just enjoying the view. At the water’s edge, he glanced back to see Eddie hanging over the edge of the truck bed, trying to pull the dry food bag closer.

Steve leaned over the water, speaking low. “I’m not here alone, you need to stay out of sight.”

Splash

Water flicked up at Steve, wetting his clothes, sprinkling his face.

He wiped at his face, glaring. “Thank you for that, but no. I’m not coming in today. You gotta go.”

“Steve?” Steve flinched and turned to see Eddie walking back, hand halfway in the bag.

Flicking one last glare toward the water, Steve smiled back to Eddie. “Saw a bird scooping up a fish, pretty cool to see in person. You ready to head out?”

Eddie tilted his head, confused smile in place. “No? I just got the chips. Thought we were gonna enjoy this a little longer?”

“We could, yeah. Orrrr we could drive into town, see where we could find a key chain or magnet with this mythical monster on it. Maybe find a bathroom before we head out.”

“Ok, but can w-” Eddie’s eyes went wide, mouth dropping open, bag of chips spilling to the ground.

Steve dropped his head in defeat. He knew what Eddie saw rising behind him.

“Steve,” Eddie whispered, eyes still locked behind him. “Walk toward me, baby. Slowly. There’s- there’s a- The Monster of-”

Splash!

Water drenched the back of Steve, droplets making it to Eddie. Steve sighed deeply and rubbed the spot between his eyes. “Yeah, uh, he doesn’t like being called that.”

Eddie’s wide eyed gaze moved to Steve. Steve held out his hand, wiggling his fingers like he always does when he wants Eddie to hold his hand. “It’s ok, I want you to meet someone.”

Eddie walked slowly toward him, eyes flicking between him and the large serpent at his back, until his hand was firmly within Steve’s. He tipped his head toward Steve, lowering his voice. “I know it’s the wrong time to say this, but I knew you were lying and keeping information to yourself. Now, is it- splash -he nice? Obviously, he can understand me.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yes, he’s very friendly. Kinda the problem, actually.” Steve pulled him around so they both faced the creature.

“Eddie, I’d like you to meet Kevin of Lake Manitou. Kevin, this is my partner, Eddie.”

Kevin swam across the water toward them. Eddie jerked, stepping in close to Steve’s side, squeezing his hand tight. Steve swept a thumb over Eddie’s knuckles to reassure him, though he still glanced worriedly over at Steve.

Steve crouched at the edge of grass and water, pulling Eddie down with him. “Put your hand out. Like this.”

Eddie followed his lead, reaching out the hand not held tight by Steve over the water. Kevin came close, slipping smoothly up and out of the water to brush his head across Steve’s hand first and then Eddie’s.

Steve heard a tiny gasp from Eddie and looked over. Eddie was grinning, relief coursed through Steve as he watched Eddie petting Kevin’s head, flipping his hand under to scritch his chin.

“If you want, you can get take a polaroid. You can never show it to anyone, but you can take it.”

Eddie’s head snapped over to look at him. “You trust me with a photo? What if-”

“Eddie. ‘Course I trust you. I mean, maybe we wait to tell the kids til they’re older, but yeah. It’s just, I couldn’t tell you because it’s my duty to protect them all; from curious people, from hunters, from developers. It’s been my family’s job for generations going back hundreds of years.”

“So, what, you get to protect them ‘cause you’re, like, the only humans who know about them?”

“Uh, no.” Kevin lifted out of the water, resting his big head on Steve’s knees, offering support, Steve pet him slowly. He looked Eddie in the eye. “We’re, uh, we’re not exactly...completely...human.”

Eddie blinked at him, opening his mouth a few times before closing it. “You’re, uh, you’re- what?”

Steve ducked his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. My mom’s a Banshee, her whole side of the family is. My dad’s a human, though. Banshees are kinda, like, a warning system in our world. I don’t have all of Mom’s abilities, but I can still sense when something’s vaguely wrong or someone’s on the verge of death.”

Looking up, Steve wasn’t sure Eddie was breathing anymore. “You ok?”

Eddie’s distant gaze snapped backing into focus on Steve’s face. “This makes so much sense. All those times- And you knew in the Upside Down- Wow. Ok. Yeah, ok. But-” Eddie’s face fell, suddenly sad and worried.

“Eddie?”

“You said this has been your family’s duty, passed down for generations, but if we’re- You’ll need to, you know- I can’t give you- ugh.” he pulled a hand down his face.

Steve reached out, stopping him from shoving his hand into his hair to pull at it in frustration. “Eddie. I have cousins, it’s fine. Or we can find a surrogate. Robin’s kinda offered; though she said not until she’s established in her career. So, we have time. But...you’re fine? With the whole, you know, not human thing?”

Eddie tilted his head in confusion, before oh-ing in understanding.

“Honey,” he said, a wide smile overtaking his face, “I’ve loved you for four years now; you think a little thing like ‘not being completely human’ is going to change that? Not on your life, baby. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Steve’s cheeks hurt from how wide he smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

Eddie glanced down at Kevin, reaching over to scritch between his eyes, he suddenly gasped. “Wait! Does this mean Sasquatch really is real?!”

Based on this dish towel

[steddie-spooktober]

halfway there (fully smitten)

written for @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween pop up event!

rated G | 2,832 words | on AO3: halfway there (fully smitten) | prompt: half-o-ween meet cute, modern au, flirting, steve harrington is simultaneously super charming and on his game AND easily flustered

Steve would do anything for his kid siblings.

He would.

It’s just…

“Why’d it have to be this Saturday?”

“Because that’s the halfway mark?” Dustin says as if it was obvious, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Oh you’ve got to–” Steve scrubs a hand down his face; Yeah. fine. That makes sense. It is called the ‘Halfway to Halloween’ craft fair. “You don’t even like crafts.”

“There’s going to be more than just crafts.” Dustin says, again, like it should be obvious. “C’mon Steve, even Max wants to go. Like, actually wants to go.”

Steve looks over at the Max in question, gazing up at him with her usual scowl on her face.

“She doesn’t look like she wants to.”

“Yes she–”

“She does.” she says.

“See??” Dustin gestures excitedly towards her.

Steve sighs again. Of course she’d want to go, she’s always been all about that spooky crap.

He looks down between the two hellions he’s so proud to call his siblings.

Internally.

Internally he is.

He sighs again, turning away from where they’d corralled him at the end of the hallway.

“C’mon Steve where’re you–”

“I gotta call Angie,”

“But–”

“I have to call off our date, dingwad!"

Dustin insisted that they be there right when the fair opened at 10 am, but after a syrup incident at breakfast and a couple bathroom breaks, their two hour drive to the 4H grounds the show was being held at, turned into two hours and 45 minutes, landing them in line at 10:10 am.

They waited their turn to pay the entrance fee, Dustin bouncing on his toes the whole time, and as soon as the bright orange bracelet was on his wrist, he was off. 

Surprising Steve further, Max was right on his heels, scanning seriously over the first line of vendors.

“You shits better have your phones on you!” Steve calls after them, getting offhanded waves in return.

He watches them go a little on ahead, sliding between the already hearty crowd much easier than he would, then turns to look at some of the vendors’ wares himself.

It was not a great place to start paying attention, to be completely honest, the racks and tables filled with all sorts of stuffed animals with bloody gashes, exposed broken bones, and dangling bloodshot eyes..

His shock must’ve been fully apparent because the bearded man behind the stall table guffaws at his expression.

“S’not for everyone, kid. I get it.” he says when Steve apologizes.

There are people selling their collections of movie memorabilia, specialty indie costume companies selling their scarily (ha) detailed rubber masks, some folks are selling crystals, some are selling crochet, some have tiny taxidermied mice..

It’s honestly kind of overwhelming.

He stops at one end of this barn (the second in the grounds’ row of five that were full up for the occasion), leaning up against the open double doors.

He’d originally been concerned about the cool cloudy weather, thinking it’d be too cold to be walking around outside like this, but a lot of vendors had space heaters plugged in behind their booths, and there were so many people bustling through and around the space that the wide open doors were a blessing to his already sweating brow.

Taking advantage of his spot out of the flow of people, he opens his phone to check on where the gremlins were (two barns down already what the hell??), when Dustin’s text comes through.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues on.

The next booth he comes to is another with taxidermied things, though these are all bugs. Different beetles, bees, and butterflies pinned into shadow boxes.

For some reason, he gets kinda stuck at the display of colorful wings. He’s never really liked bugs, never had a strong opinion about butterflies, but these things are… seriously beautiful.

Some he remembers the names for without having to look at the little tags the vendor wrote up for them; Monarch for one, and he knows this blue one is an Emperor Butterfly from that Animal Crossroads game Max got him hooked on for a while a couple years ago, and he’s inspecting the pattern of greens and oranges on another when he feels someone brush up against him.

Suddenly aware of how long he’s been standing in front of the display, probably blocking a whole bunch of others from getting to look too, he glances back, stepping out of the way with a “Shit, sorry!”

“No worries man, I can look just fine from right here.”

Steve’s busy looking down at his feet to make sure he’s stepping around the boxes stored under a nearby display table, “No, really, I just got caught up looking at them;” he finally gets his feet in a safe spot, and turns to the newcomer, “They’re all really–”

He’d made the mistake of looking up at the source of the voice, and now his own is stuck in his throat.

Steve’s a sucker for all things 80s, the aesthetic (a new word introduced to him by Max) at least, and this guy looked as if he was plucked right out of time and delivered to him on a shiny silver platter.

A mess of dark frizzy curls, deep dark eyes, ripped skinny jeans and some sort of band tee under a leather jacket and denim vest..

Even the sun decided to point out how much of a simp he was about to be over this guy, choosing that moment to break through the clouds outside the doors and give hot 80s metal guy a hell of a glow.

“--pretty.”

Hot Metalhead smirks and ohjesusfuckingchristhehasdimples.

“You’re not too bad yourself, big boy.” the man says, and Steve swears he can feel the other man’s gaze trail over him. “You got a favorite?”

He gestures back to the display of bugs, and Steve shakes his head clear, “Uh.. The orange one maybe, the Monarch? But this one is really cool.” he points to the green/orange one.

Hot Metalhead nods, “The Madagascan Sunset Moth, that one’s my favorite.” then he levels a smirk at Steve, “Seems you’ve got good taste, pretty boy.”

Something kicks to life behind Steve’s ribs, and suddenly he feels completely back on his game. He slowly drags his gaze over the other man, lingering on his lips (chapped, but perfectly pouty even in their smirk), “Seems like I do.”

Steve meets the man’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to say something else when they’re broken from the moment by none other than Max.

“There you are! Do you ever check your phone?” she gripes, pulling him out of the booth

“What–Max?” A rock sinks into his stomach, “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help picking something for Lucas,” she puts her hands on her hips and it’s like he’s looking in a mirror.

The rock rolls out his stomach with the roll of his eyes, and turns to say something to Hot Metalhead, but he’s already a couple booths away, bending low over a table of books.

“You can flirt later, I really need your help!”

Sighing, but figuring he can find Hot Metalhead later, he follows Max to a bigger movie memorabilia booth in the center of the next barn over.

Eventually, they settle on two gifts for Max’s “He’s not my boyfriend nor do I want him to be.” boyfriend (“He’s not my boyfriend, Steve! Urgh, you’re the worst.”): a Freddy Krueger sweater, and a jersey boasting the Haddonfield Butchers, with the last name Myers and number 78 on the back.

“Are you sure that’s not secretly for you?” Steve asks, clocking the reference immediately. He had, afterall, been made to sit and watch Halloween close to a zillion times over the course of he and Max’s foster journey together.

“No, it’s for him. It's something I like fused with what he likes." She reasons.

“Sure, sure,”

Max wanders off again after that, and so does Steve, scanning the crowd for messy brown curls as he scans the other vendors.

Eventually, he comes to a booth covered in pins and earrings. 

He immediately thinks of Ms. Hender– Claud— Mom when he sees all the earrings, and starts looking through the spinning racks, snapping a picture to send to the goblins as he does

“Find something you like?”

Steve glances up, one of the two ladies manning the booth has stood from her chair, the strawberry blond with the ponytail, smiling brightly at him. A pair of cigarette earrings hang from her lobes, one new and one half burnt down.

“Yeah, sorry, I was sending a picture of these to my siblings,” he picks up the fangs, “Our mom would love these.”

The woman holds out a hand and he passes the set to her, “Awesome, let me get them bagged up for you!”

“Do you want a different color?” The other woman says, looking through a basket of what looks like even more pairs of earrings; she’s a dirtier blond with a choppy bob and freckles.

“Another color?”

“Y’know, black, orange, purple, glow in the d–” that’s when she looks up at him, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve’s brain goes into a jumbled state of ???????????

“Uhm, yeah? How’d you–”

“You went to my high school!”

A rock plunges into his gut, “Oh, uhm.. I’m sorry? I don’t–”

“You dated Tammy Thompson.”

He feels his face pull into a cringe, “Yeah, that was… yeah.”

“She was on American Idol!” the strawberry blond says.

Steve finds himself laughing, “I don’t know how she made it, she sounds like a muppet when she sings.”

“She does!” She laughs at the same time Choppy Bob says an indignant “She does not!”

The rock is back, “Oh, sorry.. Was she a friend?”

Ponytail laughs again, saying “No,” at the same time as Bob but continuing on with “Robin here had a biiiig crush on her.”

 Bob, Robin apparently, goes all splotchy, “Shut up Chris!”

Chris just waves her off, “Oh he’s fine, he’s one of us, did you not see his pin?”

Steve looks down at his own chest, Max’s gifted bi flag pin glinting up at him from his jacket, then back up at the two; the lanyard around Robin’s neck jumps out at him, striped in pinks and oranges and whites, and Chris has what looks like one half of a heart in colors matching his pinned to her sweater.

“Huh.” Robin says, looking perplexed, “Who’da thunk?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve jokes, finally getting Robin to smile back at him.

Suddenly, and at the same time another potential customer comes into the little stall behind him, Dustin comes out of the woodwork to tug at his arm, “Finally, there you are! Stop flirting and come with me, you gotta see these cars!”

“Whoa, dude! Chill out for a second, okay? I’m trying to pay the nice lady.”

“Well hurry it up dude,” he mocks, “They’ve got the Ghostbusters’ hearse back there!”

Dustin squeezes very impolitely past the other person in the booth, and Steve turns back to Chris, “Sorry, brothers you know?”

“He’s got a point, the Ghostbusters one is pretty impressive,” She says as Robin accepts his $10 bill for the jewelry, and passes him back a small bag and a card, “I wrote our cell numbers on the back, we should all meet up again sometime!”

“Course! I’ll let you know how my mom likes ‘em, yeah?”

Steve squeezes out the stall and Chrissy picks up her phone. 

Dustin was right (what’s new?), this last building is packed full of hearses of every shape and size. 

A 1940s era one, a slightly newer model painted entirely in matte black, one with a padded coffin hanging half out the end for people to pose for pictures in. But the real star of the show, at least according to Dustin, was the one for one remake of the Ghostbusters’ white one.

Steve follows him down the row, pausing at the hood of the replica to take a picture of the giant slime ghost plush in the passenger seat, then on to peer into the cab.

He was still inspecting all the old dials in the dash through the open window, when someone says, “See something you like?”

“I was told by a very reliable source that yours was the one to beat.” Steve says, taking in the shockingly low number of miles on the odometer, “And I gotta say, still having the original dials in the dash is pretty cool– Hey! It’s you!” 

The guy leaning his weight onto the car’s roof with one hand grins, “Hello again, your majesty.”

“Majesty?”

 “You liked the Monarchs, remember?” Hot Metalhead pushes himself up off the car and offers Steve the same hand, “I’m Eddie.”

“Steve.” he breathes, taking Eddie’s hand in his. 

Eddie shakes his hand once, his fingers calloused and warm, “Well, King Steve, what brings you all the way to my neck of the woods?”

“I heard there was a super special hearse back here so I had to come see it for myself.”

“Good eye, Stevie”

“Only if it’s easy on ‘em.” he says, starting to get his normal voice back, “‘Easy on the eyes’ y’know?”

Eddie just laughs, “Yeah big guy, I got it.”

Steve’s face is on fire. He clears his throat, finally letting Eddie’s hand go. He notices a familiar pin on the front breast pocket of his denim vest that he hadn’t noticed before, this one striped in shades of blue, green, and white, the opposite half of Chris’ pink, purple, and blue one.

“Oh, hey! You know Chris?” Eddie's face flashes into confusion, so Steve clarifies, “She’s got the same half heart pin as you��?”

“Chrissy you mean? Tiny? Ponytail? Bangs?”

Steve shrugs, “That sounds right.”

“Has a girlfriend about yay tall? Freckles?”

“I mean, she didn’t stand up..”

Eddie considers him for a moment. “Nope. Never heard of ‘er.”

Oh god he’s a dork.. Steve’ll never survive this.

“D’she send you over here?”

“Kinda? Dustin wanted to see the cars anyhow so..” he holds his arms out at his sides, “Here I am.”

“So this curly-haired menace is yours then?” Eddie asks, turning to stand at Steve’s side and gesturing to where Dustin is talking with a balding man at the end of the car, “He’s been talking my Uncle’s ear off each time he’s come by.”

Steve nods, “Him and the redhead who’s… around here somewhere– there!” He points out Max as she heads outside into the sun, making her hair glow bright, “She’s my foster sister, Dustin’s mom took us both in about a year ago now, she was really great to take us in together, even with me being ‘aged out’ and all.. I wanted to make sure she had something stable going forward y’know? And I really don’t know why I’m telling you all that but.. There it is..”  

His face is going to be permanently red at this point, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind his rambling, looking at him with a mix of amusement and something else in his expression. “You can tell me whatever you want, whenever you want, Stevie.”

“Is that your way of asking for my number?” Steve asks on impulse.

Eddie laughs, “You give me way too much credit Stevie, I’m not even remotely close to that good of a smooth-talker,” he reaches into his back pocket and produces his phone, “But no way am I passing up the opportunity.”

Steve smiles and takes it, entering his information into Eddie’s phone, “Apologies to your uncle by the way,” he says as he sends himself a devil face emoji from Eddie’s cell, “Dusty can get to be too much sometimes. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble?”

He hands back the phone as his own chimes in his pocket, taking it out and passing it to Eddie.

“Not at all; Wayne’s more than happy to talk about anything to anyone who’ll listen; He’s already told me everything he knows.”

“Don’t you mean ‘taught’?”

“Not in the slightest.” Eddie grins at Steve’s laughter, punches something into his phone and passes it back. “There you go, big boy, one brand new phone number just for you.”

Steve looks down at the screen, ‘super hot sexy metal deathlord eddie 😈🤘’ is at the top of his message screen.

He looks up at Eddie, who just waggles his eyebrows at him; Steve rolls his eyes, but can’t keep himself from smiling. “Perfect, thanks.”

“No problem…” he mimes looking down at his phone, “‘steve’.”

“Oi! Can you two flirt your way to the gut trucks, or are Dusty and I gonna have to get some grub ourselves?”

The two jump apart at Wayne’s words, both their cheeks burning (brighter in Eddie’s case).

“Yeah, yeah, shut your yaps, we’ll go get something.” Eddie grumbles, striding off toward where the food trucks are parked, pulling Steve along with him.

if you don't have one around you at this time, this is a real thing that happens in my area every may!! and it's on the 10th this year!! all of the things mentioned are things i've seen at my fair; my own pair of vamp fang earrings are truly a favorite pair of earrings i own :o) spiderweb divider from @saradika-graphics! vampire earring pic is from this etsy listing!

there will also be a part 2 to this tomorrow, LINK HERE!

[steddie-spooktober]

Picnic/Fog - G - @steddie-spooktober

The veil is thinner when the mist settles. Steve doesn't remember who told him this, but he knows why he remembered. Why he looks forward to the days when the fog is so thick he can only see a few feet in front of him. Because then he gets to see glimpses of Eddie again.

Most mornings, he'll be there along the horizon. Not close enough to hear, but Steve watches him begging with silent pleas as he drinks his coffee. He gave up trying to run towards him, wrapping Eddie in his arms. Steve never reaches him.

Eddie haunts him on his drives around town. Steve broke down crying once under the streetlights after the closing shift at Family Video because he thought he saw Eddie and nearly ran him down. Steve only sees him on the shoulder, amongst the trees after that.

Hawkins is lonely, years gone by after that fateful spring break. Steve's packing a basket. It's more a formality than anything, he's technically not sharing with anyone.

The fog is thick and heavy when he arrives. He spreads a blanket down on the wet grass, the fabric soaks easily as he settles on top. Steve traces a finger over the name etched into stone reverently.

Steve lights a single candle and leans against the cold headstone. Any moment now.

He smiles when he feels a shift in the air next to him. It happens first with a hand reaching out, waiting. Steve follows the path as the fog lifts the veil slowly, bringing his lost love back to him.

"Hey, baby."

[steddie-spooktober]

hi! I think I'm doing something wrong while trying to add my fic to the ao3 collection. I'm typing in 'SteddieHalfoween' in the collection/challenge and it's not popping up as an option

i had the same issue when posting my own fic! i entered steddiehalfoween and hit enter even though it didn’t pop up in the suggested collections and when i hit publish, it was correctly linked to the collection!

[steddie-spooktober]

Good demons eat their flowers

@stmonstercalendar banshee @steddie-spooktober fog 704 | E for Eddie's thoughts | Steddie | Demon Eddie, Witch Stevie, transfem Steve, Stevie goes around, friends with benefits | witch hunt au, now with a tag

Eddie's at her door for once, aiming to be a proper gentleman, when they open without his knocking. It's not Eve who's on the other side, though.

Well, at least this explains the fog that settled around the valley.

He blinks in surprise as a tall, unsettling creature passes him by, barely sparing him a glance. It's surprising enough, but as he enters the hut without a proper invitation, more surprises follow. The woman of the house emerges from behind the partition that serves as her bedroom wall, her hair wilder than usual and the aura around her different that usual. Eddie's seen it on her before.

She looks thoroughly fucked. 

"A banshee?" he points at the door, which reminds him its still open so he slams it shut. "Really?" 

Eve looks at him unimpressed and unsurprised by his presence. She's naked, as usual, but with a flick of her wrist, a shawl wraps around her waist to create a long skirt. Her breast are left hidden only by her long hair, supported by the same spell Eddie has seen other witches use. 

Usually, she doesn't bother covering up so he wonders what she might be hiding under the makeshift skirt. What state has her lover left her pussy in. Are the lips red and puffy from hours of fucking? Or her mound and thighs bruised and bloody from violent love bites? Or her clit sucked out of it--

"My tits are up here."

Eddie's eyes snap up to her amused face. 

"Sorry," he says. Adds a smirk to it as a reminder that he's a demon and he's not really sorry for having lustful thoughts. He leans against the wall with all the nonchalance he can muster. "So, you're fucking low level ghouls now?" he asks, crossing his arms. 

Evie shrugs.

"None of your business who I'm fucking," she says. "Did you want something?"

He opens his mouth to protest that it is his business but thinks better of it and shuts his yap with a click. 

"Just came over to see how my favorite witch is doing," he lands on instead, smiling like the picture of innocence that he's not. 

"Well, your favorite witch is busy--"

"Yeah, I've noticed."

"--so you can make yourself useful," she finishes with a glare, putting a huge wicker basket full of dandelions on the table. A huge cauldron follows, put directly over the fire pit. "I need to separate the flowers from the stem," Eve explains shortly, ripping the head of one of the flowers and throwing it into the cauldron. The stem goes into a separate bucket. She starts working without waiting for his reaction, and he observes her for a moment before pushing away from the wall with a sigh. His hooves click on the wooden floor as he approaches the able and stands next to her, reaching for the flowers. 

"You eat even one and I kick you out," she warns.

"I wasn't going to!" he protests, but he totally was. Pointedly, he raises the flower that was aiming to his mouth, up to his nose and makes a pointed, deep inhale. 

Eve ignores him, and keeps working. The flower smells only faintly of pollen and warm sun.

"So, what kind of evil potion are we making?" he asks conversationally. 

"Cough syrup."

"Cough syrup?!" Eddie looks at the flowers in his hands, ripping them apart in distaste. "Are you a witch or a hippie?" He scrunches his nose.

"I don't know what a hippie is," she reminds him. "What's wrong with helping people out?"

"Uh, nothing, but it's not magic. Isn't it beneath you?"

Eve hums.

"A lot of things are beneath me," she says with a twitch of her lips that tells him he is supposed to read it in the filthy way that he does. "But not making my skills useful. It's what I got burned for."

Eddie grumbles, his nose twitching.

"Right."

They work quietly for some time, until he speaks up again.

"You know, there's another flower I'd love to eat," he says, tone conversational. 

She looks up, hands still working as she considers him. 

"After this basket, if you're good."

Eddie grins.

"For you, I'll make an exception."

tags: @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @wheneverfeasible

[steddie-spooktober]

STEDDIE SPOOKTOBER POP-UP EVENT!

Happy Halfway to Halloween!

since the actual date is debated, this will be a TWO DAY pop-up event from Apr 30th - May 1st

your prompts are: picnic and/or fog (and feel free to include half-o-ween in there too as a third if you'd like!)

maybe they've been gardening and are going to have a picnic with all the things they grew, maybe one or the other knows it's half-o-ween and wants to celebrate! foggy days, foggy nights, fog creeping over the lake, the road, the field behind their house.. a figure luring them into the fog... whatever it may be: writing, artwork, moodboards... make it steddie, make it spooky, and make it your own!

happy creating!!

noelle

#STEDDIEHALFOWEEN TAG | AO3 COLLECTION (steddiehalfoween)

(PSST! i'm putting a few versions of the postcard background/ image above below the cut if you want to use them for anything!)

[steddie-spooktober]

Hi !

I might be late to the mini event, will it be okay to still tag your blog even if I post in the first half of may ? And to add my post to the collection for the mini-event ?

you’re always welcome to tag us!

someone asked something similar in the replies on this post: i will reblog late submissions through the end of this week if needed, but the majority of posts will need to be posted within the event to count as the event (i have a separate tag for the late entries :o) )

being me, the collection on ao3 will probably stay open longer bc i will forget to close it tbh 😅

thanks for participating!!

[steddie-spooktober]

Good Morning!!

our first pop up event begins posting TOMORROW 4/30

there is a collection on AO3 (searchable by steddiehalfoween), and I’ll open it first thing tomorrow morning!

happy creating!! 🎃🍓👻🌸

noelle

[steddie-spooktober]

Just wanted to double check something for the halfway to Halloween prompts: Does it need to be mentioned in fic that it's halfway to Halloween or just take place during the halfway week?

It can be any of the prompts or combination thereof, and your work doesn't have to take place during those days specifically or mention that it is the holiday, I'm only using the "holiday" as an excuse to have this little pop-up event! 🥰

The prompts are picnic and fog with Halfway to Halloween being a little bonus one because of the timing of the mini event.

Hope that answers your question!

[steddie-spooktober]

we're two weeks out!!

tune back in at 8am EST on Apr 30th for the start of our Halfway to Halloween pop-up event! 🎃🍓👻🌸

[steddie-spooktober]

it's almost spooky time!!

i have TWO pop-up events scheduled between now and the start of october for anyone who'd like to participate!!

APRIL 30 - MAY 1: Halfway to Halloween (#steddiehalfoween)

picnic ● fog (+ halfway to halloween)

JUNE 20 - 22: Summerween (#steddiesummerween)

trickster ● pines (+ summerween)

just like our main event, there will be no min/max word count, and no set rating limit just please be sure to include the rating and prompt(s) at the start of your post, and tag @steddie-spooktober so it can be added to the queue!

same applies to any artists that would like to participate! just tag us and include the prompt(s) you chose!

a '🎃' will be commented in the replies of your post so you know it's been added to the queue

happy creating!!! there's only 6 months until october!!!

~noelle

[steddie-spooktober]

hello friends!!

just wanted to give a little follow-up with the polls from last November, and to give a little look ahead at steddie spooky month 2025!

i have everything drafted for Oct, and going off the poll results, this year will be a handful of prompts for each of the five weeks that can be used at any point in the week

just like last year, anything steddie +/- fall +/- spooky (etc) is accepted! written works, art, moodboards, anything you may want to create!

additionally, i have TWO little extras planned for April and June, so keep an eye out for those :o)

as always, if you have any questions, please feel free to send an ask here or on my main blog @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe!!

see you in April!!!

~noelle