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#Steddie fic
loveinhawkins · 3 days
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ao3
About twenty minutes into the hike, Steve hears Eddie’s breathing change.
They’re bringing up the rear, but they’re still close enough for some of the group’s conversations to be within earshot—Robin and Nancy leading in a silently agreed upon formation, despite Dustin holding the compass. That way, no matter what, the kids are shielded.
Speaking of the kids, they’re currently having a passionate discussion about who among them will reach the Gate the fastest—and yeah, there’s not a chance in hell that’s happening, Steve thinks, but they don’t need to know that yet.
It’s when the debate specifically turns to who’s the best swimmer that he notices the switch in Eddie’s breathing, air sucked in through clenched teeth. A glance behind confirms Steve’s suspicions; Eddie’s breaking away from the party, his face white, eyes steadfastly on the forest floor.
Steve leaves him be, doesn’t draw any attention to it—but he keeps watch in his peripheral, so he spots exactly when Eddie staggers off, soon swallowed up by the trees. He can still hear his footsteps, though, which is reassuring.
Slowly, making sure it seems casual, Steve bends down and picks up the smallest rock he can find, rubs his thumb across it to make sure the edges are smooth enough.
He throws, hits his target: the back of Dustin’s head.
Predictably, Dustin whirls around, mouth already open to voice his indignation.
Steve quickly puts a finger to his lips.
While Dustin doesn’t look all that thrilled about it, he obligingly stays silent. He’s damn quick on the uptake, of course; Steve can see the spark of understanding in his eyes when he notices that Eddie is missing.
He steps forward with urgency, but Steve’s just as quick to shake his head.
No, it’s okay. I’m on it.
He knows it’s not a coincidence that Eddie left so quietly—that having the kids see him in another moment of vulnerability is probably too much to handle on top of the ongoing nightmare he’s found himself in. Steve gets it; God, if he were in Eddie’s shoes, he’d be taking any opportunity that he could to get some privacy.
Even without words, it’s obvious that Dustin wants to protest, frowning hard.
Steve raises an eyebrow meaningfully. Dude, trust me.
Dustin heaves a silent, dramatic sigh, but he nods all the same.
Steve gestures for the water bottle Dustin’s got in his backpack. Mimes for Dustin to throw it to him.
Dustin brings out the bottle, but doesn’t throw it immediately, like he’s doubtful Steve will make the catch.
Steve rolls his eyes. Seriously? Dickhead.
Dustin rolls his eyes right back.
When he throws the bottle, Steve catches it one-handed as a point of pride.
Dustin’s theatrics grow: he gasps, all slack-jawed, wide-eyed disbelief; Steve flips him off.
Then Dustin taps his watch deliberately.
Steve softens, gives him a brief thumbs up before following where Eddie went. He looks back a couple of times, reassured by the sight of Robin and Nancy stopping and rearranging themselves so the group formation is kept up in his absence.
It doesn’t take long to find Eddie. He hears him first, harsh, bitten off retching—and while that’s not exactly a surprise, the sound still makes Steve’s heart sink.
Eddie’s doubled over, leaning against a tree with one hand. Steve feels a sudden impulse to pull his hair back for him but resists it—remembers Eddie violently flinching away from any touch in the boathouse.
So he just makes sure his presence is nice and obvious without being overwhelming—takes leisurely, even footsteps. He sits down opposite, just close enough that Eddie could reach out if he needed to.
But he doesn’t. He’s barely stopped retching before he’s trying to straighten up, grip slipping against the bark. Steve winces at the thought of splinters digging into his palm.
“Woah, man, take it easy—”
“M’fine,” Eddie mutters. He scoffs harshly, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s shaking. “This is kinda normal for me now.”
His head’s still half bowed, hair falling across his face like he doesn’t want to be seen. It doesn’t stop Steve from noticing the evidence of tears on his face; he thinks they’re simply from the exertion of throwing up, but he can’t be sure.
“Just—just give yourself a minute,” Steve says. “We’ve got time.”
He stretches out right there on the ground, slow and deliberate. It takes a second or two before Eddie—after another wobbly attempt at standing—mirrors him: sinking down until he’s sat, back pressed up against the tree trunk.
Steve listens to his breathing. It’s lost that nauseated gritted teeth sound, but it hitches once, twice, and then—
“I can’t stop—” Eddie covers his face with his hands.
Steve shuffles closer. “You’re okay.”
But Eddie shakes his head. He drops his hands, leans his head back against the tree. His eyes are distant. Haunted. Steve doesn’t need to guess about what he’s seeing.
“Eddie—”
“You know the funniest thing?” Eddie gasps out, like it isn’t funny at all. “I keep thinking if—if only I hadn’t ditched swimming lessons, I might’ve l-learned something fucking useful.”
At a loss for what to say, Steve tries for something normal. Thinks back to high school, something far away from all of this…
“You showed up to swimming,” he says. “I remember.”
He does, though it’s faint.
Honestly, he spent as little time as he could changing in the showers, wanting to make the most out of time in the pool. He didn’t even goof off with Tommy H or any of the other guys, preferring to do solo laps in the deep end. It was repetitive, calming; he treated it like a vacation from the adrenaline of being on the swim team.
Then came that November, and the whole routine became an escape from much more.
Eddie gives him a look that might’ve passed for amusement at one point, if his breathing wasn’t still so shallow.
“Yeah, I—I showed up for, like, the first week, Harrington. Fucking Lewinsky stole my clothes, you only let that kinda thing happen once.”
“I’m sorry,” Steve says sincerely. “I didn’t know.”
A wan flicker of a smile passes across Eddie’s face. “Of course you didn’t,” he says. It’s not an accusation. “You were, like, way too busy being part fish.”
Steve huffs a laugh through his nose, but Eddie doesn’t join in. Instead his breathing quickens, like the distraction of high school hasn’t been nearly enough.
“It’s just—I should’ve been more—should’ve known h-how to—” He shakes his head again. Swallows. “After Chr—”
He chokes on her name.
Steve reaches out, only to hesitate and leave his hand hovering in the air between them. “Hey, man, there’s nothing you could’ve—”
“What if it’s not a coincidence?” Eddie whispers. “What if there’s—there’s a… there’s gotta be a reason that—that it’s me.”
Steve moves closer still. Draws back at the last second; Eddie’s still trembling.
“That’s bullshit,” Steve says firmly.
Eddie laughs bitterly. “Is it? D-don’t fucking kid yourself, Harrington, s’not exactly looking good. Two people died r-right in front of me, and I just…” He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I’d arrest me.”
“Stop, would you just—”
“Come on, man. You’ve gotta know, even if Wheeler and Buckley are still too polite to say it.” Eddie’s voice is soft in resignation. “I’m just wasting your time.”
It’s Steve’s turn to scoff. “Do you seriously think we’d be doing all of this if we thought you were a lost cause?”
Eddie shrugs, the sleeves of his leather jacket scraping against the bark. “There’s only so many signs a guy can ignore, right? Hell, even my watch has stopped, like I’m literally outta fucking time.”
“Okay, no wonder you failed English,” Steve says, “that is overwrought as shit, dude.”
The jab doesn’t quite land—his barely concealed worry just makes him sound sharp. Fraught.
But Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, and he finally seems speechless, and this is it, Steve realises, the one chance he has to get through to him.
“Nothing prepares you for this shit, Eddie,” he says—thinks of 1983, of seeing the impossible. Terrified out of his mind. “I mean it, there’s nothing you could’ve done. Nothing,” he adds pointedly, when it looks like Eddie might protest. “Chrissy, Patrick, it’s fucking awful what they—but it’s not—not a, um. Not a reflection on—it’s not your fault.”
It’s not enough, Steve knows it—feels acutely like a shitty school guidance counsellor, only able to parrot empty platitudes. He has to dig deeper.
He looks at Eddie directly, unflinching. Can read the fear lurking in his eyes, the one he keeps dancing around.
A fierce emotion floods Steve’s chest—like being flung into the deep end without warning, the water already over your head before you can take a breath.
He’s felt it before, mixed up in a wave of anger as he watched Powell raise that goddamn picture to the camera.
Don’t you go believing a word this town says about you, Eddie Munson. Don’t you dare.
Steve braves a touch, places a hand on Eddie’s knee. Eddie doesn’t move.
“You’re not the curse, Eddie. There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Eddie shudders. He looks away, but not quick enough to hide the definite tears this time.
Steve waits. He doesn’t move his hand for a long moment.
When Eddie’s finished roughly wiping at his face with his sleeve, Steve hands over the water bottle. He’s silently relieved that Eddie takes it without a fight, like accepting even this smallest amount of help means there’s still a part of him that hasn’t given up yet.
There’s still hope.
After a few sips, Eddie sets the water bottle aside. He’s breathing deeper now, and when he looks up, his eyes have that keen, almost analytical gaze.
“What’s…?” he murmurs, and then he’s the one that’s reaching out, as if without thinking, fingertips lightly brushing against Steve’s forehead.
He feels cold, Steve thinks. Like he’s still half frozen from falling into the lake.
“Did you… cut yourself on something?” Eddie says.
Steve’s about to say no automatically before he remembers.
“Right, yeah. Um, our flashlights kinda… exploded when…”
He trails off. Watches with sympathy as Eddie fills in the gaps.
“Oh,” Eddie says very quietly.
He keeps following the trail of the cut—Steve can still feel the chill of him: the light pressure travelling across his skin, like Eddie needs the motion to stay calm.
“Ow,” Eddie says, hushed, almost as if it happened to him, too. “You’re lucky you didn’t get glass in your eye, dude.”
Steve doesn’t say what he’s thinking—that he’d have dealt with it, that he would’ve been fine—because he thinks he understands: that maybe by focusing on something small, it helps keep Eddie here, temporarily blocks out the sight of Chrissy and Patrick’s deaths.
He checks his watch. They’re just creeping up on fifteen minutes; they’d better make tracks soon.
He stands but not abruptly, conscious of not rushing Eddie unnecessarily.
“If we cut across, uh, this way,” he demonstrates with one hand as Eddie gets to his feet, “we’ll catch up pretty quick. Don’t need Henderson’s compass to tell me the way. Honestly, he acts like he knows places better than me when I’ve known them, like, all my life. He does it all the damn time.”
Eddie lets out a laugh that still sounds slightly wet; he sniffs as if to cover up the sound. His smile is shaky at best, but it seems genuine.
“Man, he does that to me, too. What is up with that? Last week, he swore he found some shortcut to the Hellfire room that I’d be totally unaware of, like I’ve not spent forever in the damn building.”
He falls into step with Steve as they walk on, and Steve catches the very slight grimace he makes as he swallows.
Steve checks his jeans pocket. It turns out luck is on his side, at least for this: he’s got a couple of mints, still unwrapped.
When he offers some to Eddie, he gets a heartfelt thanks in reply. But at the same time, Eddie also looks suspiciously close to fighting a smirk.
“What?”
“Nothing!” But the smirk’s definitely won; Eddie tucks the mint into the corner of his mouth as he says, “Just didn’t realise I was getting the full Skull Rock experience.”
It takes a second for Steve to catch on. “The experience—?”
Eddie’s smirk grows. “Your reputation precedes you.”
Steve snorts. “Fuck off, are you twelve?”
“Maybe,” Eddie says, halfway to singsong.
Steve shakes his head, half in amusement, half in thought. Sharing juvenile kisses with girls at Skull Rock feels a world away, almost like it happened to someone else. That’s not even why the mints were in his pocket in the first place—not that he’s gonna put a dampener on Eddie’s teasing or anything. In truth, the habit began the night after Starcourt, using a mint—despite his stinging mouth—to help keep himself awake.
Of course he doesn’t say all of that. Chooses instead to nudge Eddie in the side, fighting a smirk of his own.
Eddie acts like he’s been dramatically winded in response, makes a crack about how that move wouldn’t fall under the Skull Rock experience.
Steve thinks he’s getting a handle on how to read him, charting the improvement of his mood through just how stupid he sounds—when smiling no longer seems like it’ll fracture his face from the strain.
By the time they catch up with the others, they’re both stifling laughter (Steve keeps having to remind himself that this is technically a stealth mission), Eddie reaching across to mess with Steve’s hair in retaliation for being repeatedly nudged in the ribs. His hands feel warmer now, Steve realises with a smile, as he pushes Eddie back with a forearm against his chest.
For the most part, it looks like their disappearances haven’t been noticed—Nancy quietly moving to rejoin Robin at the front as if by chance. Steve knows better, knows everything has been carefully coordinated to look that way; as Eddie relaxes at his side, he feels a rush of gratitude for the group’s tact.
Granted, Dustin kind of breaks the illusion when he turns around and starts walking backwards—but what he lacks in subtlety he makes up for in entertainment: using needlessly big, questioning gestures, brow furrowed in concentration.
When Dustin widens his eyes impatiently, Steve relents and nudges Eddie again. “He’s not gonna stop til you respond, trust me.”
“Hmm? Oh.”
Eddie lifts up Dustin’s water bottle with a grin and gives a thumbs up with his free hand.
Dustin brightens, replying with a thumbs up of his own—still stubbornly walking backwards like it’s simply his preferred way to travel.
“Gonna bet on how long it takes for him to fall flat on his face?” Steve says in an undertone.
Eddie snorts in a way that can’t be disguised as anything else, though he gives it a shot with the world’s least convincing cough. He gives up in the next breath, chuckling through a, “Steve,” in joking disapproval, like Steve’s such a terrible influence, which just sets them both off again.
Dustin’s probably too far away to hear them properly, but he’s clearly got the gist, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He does a series of emphatic gestures that Steve can’t make sense of; it just looks like he’s doing a complicated mime for charades.
Eddie must get the same impression because he soon calls out with a shit-eating grin, “Book or movie?”
Dustin flips them both off, but he can’t quite pull off the deadpan expression, his lips twitching, and Steve knows for sure that he’s hiding a laugh when he turns back around to walk with Max and Lucas.
Eddie smiles as if he’s noticed the same thing. He jostles their shoulders one last time, and it feels like there’s something more intentional behind it. A touch that lingers.
It’s easy when there’s still a long walk ahead of them—when there’s still daylight—to be convinced that they’ve got all the time in the world. Steve’s become kind of an expert at it: in his head, he could make swimming lessons last forever.
But even that old trick doesn’t last; he feels the clock restart as soon as that damn vine wraps around his ankle, cold and unyielding.
In the split second before being dragged under the lake, all he can think is thank God the kids aren’t here.
The thought follows him all the way into The Upside Down—later joined by the fervent wish that he could somehow summon up Dustin’s water bottle, as his head spins through the hopefully staunched bat bites.
“Christ, Harrington,” Eddie says when the dizziness persists, and Steve barely catches himself before falling against a vineless tree. “D’you ever take your own advice?”
“What?” Steve says faintly.
He screws up his eyes, forces himself to blink until his vision doesn’t waver—braces his weight against the tree with a sigh, ready to push himself up—
But Eddie’s hand is suddenly on top of his, halting him.
“Just… wait,” Eddie says. “Just a minute.”
Steve doesn’t know if it is a minute; he tries to keep track in his head, but the seconds slip away from him, and all he can focus on is each breath he takes, until they lose that gasping edge, grow deeper. Slower.
The world sharpens around him, like he’s been underwater without realising and has finally broken through to the surface. He feels the muted scratch of damp wood beneath his palm. The pressure of Eddie’s hand—not enough to hurt, but enough for Steve to tell that he’s still freaked out.
“I’m okay,” he says, looking Eddie in the eye. Does his best to silently project the sentiment of I’m not gonna collapse on you, I promise. “We’re not far from Nancy’s place.”
He can see a flicker of light just ahead, off to the side—thankfully not spots in his vision, just the flashlight he gave to Robin and Nancy; he’d tried to make it sound like he was doing them a favour when he actually thought it’d be best to leave both his hands free, just in case he did end up collapsing. At least he’d have a chance to brace for a fall.
There’s an uncertain air to how the girls are walking, and Steve suspects they feel a little like him: at a loss without the kids sandwiched between them. Now the usual priorities are thrown to the wind; what do you do when you want to shield everyone, all at once?
Eddie’s surveying him like he’s far from convinced by his definition of ‘okay.’
Still, he laughs weakly and says, “Good to know your navigating skills still work in this fucking hellhole.”
Steve’s hand shifts beneath Eddie’s as he stands up properly; it’s only then that Eddie moves away.
“Not far, not far,” he’s muttering under his breath, like he’s trying to reassure himself. His voice cracks in quiet desperation, “God, how long have we even been down here?”
Steve glances down to his wrist. He’s met with a watch face that’s smashed, jagged cracks running through it so he can’t even read the time it must’ve stopped at.
“Hey,” Steve says wryly, tilting his wrist so Eddie can see, “we match.”
Eddie doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even crack a smile. His eyes just go all big and dismayed, like he’s looking at something far worse than a broken watch.
Steve suddenly wants to tell him that it’s fine, to cover up his wrist like it’s somehow more gruesome than the wounds on his stomach—maybe it is, because Eddie keeps staring like he’s bleeding out right in front of him.
“Shit, Steve,” Eddie whispers with this horrible, helpless little laugh—almost like he’s on the verge of tears. He sounds like he did after throwing up, trying to say that something was funny when it was anything but. “You’ve had that forever.”
And Steve feels a rush of something still too big and complex to name, flickers of emotion too rapid to keep track of: the initial pang of sadness he’d pushed aside because the watch had been his grandfather’s, after all; wondering faintly what classes Eddie had shared with him, that would allow him enough time to notice something so small, you’ve had that forever—
So what? Steve thinks. So what, what does it fucking matter?
He’d rip the watch off if it’d help, Eddie’s too, stamp and grind them down until they’re indistinguishable from the ash in this place, and who gives a shit if it’s overwrought, it doesn’t have to mean anything—they still have time; they’re owed it.
He doesn’t do any of that, because the ground shakes again, and he’s ready—anticipates the stumble Eddie makes and reaches out to correct it.
They land safely away from any vines.
Eddie’s hand is clamped around his wrist, right at the part where the watch strap used to rub against his skin—back in sophomore year, when he’d always put it on too tight in fear of losing it; “Sorry, sorry,” Eddie’s mouthing, out of breath from the fall, but Steve’s holding on just as tightly, can feel Eddie’s pulse thundering beneath his fingertips.
And it’s so fast and frantic that Steve thinks he can hear it, too, a sound that he can’t get away from, in spite of it all: like a clock ticking. Counting down.
WRIST WATCH The explosive time shackle That never goes off Eternal zero Synchronize your deaths —Philip Murray
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steveseddie · 3 days
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do or do not (there is no try)
for the @steddiemicrofic bonus round: birthday | word count: 290 | rating: t | happy birthday @steddieas-shegoes <3
this is also for my stficbingo prompt: lightsaber
***
Vvvrrroomm!
Steve ducks his head as Eddie swings his lightsaber, slaying imaginary Jedis. He’s been doing that since opening his birthday present, squealing excitedly at the toy Steve bought as a joke. 
Eddie’s real present is at Steve’s house. He’ll give it to him after his surprise party- new strings for his Warlock and a signed Metallica record that Steve drove three towns over to get. But if Eddie acts half as excited about those as he’s right now, it’ll be worth it.
“Join the Dark Side or perish,” Eddie says in a deep voice, holding the red lightsaber against Steve’s neck.
“No, thanks?” Steve thinks back to the night they met. “And, why do you keep holding deadly objects against my neck?” 
Eddie shrugs, withdrawing the lightsaber and spinning it, only to accidentally drop it. “Shit.” 
“Not very Jedi Knight of you.” 
He sits next close to Steve on the couch. “I shall convince you to join some other way.” 
“How?” 
“With my good looks. And my charm.” 
“Hmm, done.”
Eddie cackles. “That easy?” 
It was that easy for Steve to fall for Eddie, so.
“Yeah, to really seal the deal though, I suggest a kiss.” 
Eddie’s eyes widen. “A kiss? Seriously?” Steve nods. “Okay. Holy shit.”
And holy shit is right, Steve thinks, as Eddie gives him a short kiss. 
They pull away when Eddie’s walkie crackles- Dustin’s signal. 
“We’ll continue that after my party.” Eddie taps his finger against Steve’s lip.
“How do you-” 
“Robin.” Eddie says, sheepishly. “Don’t worry, I’ll feign surprise. Now c’mon I gotta show Henderson my lightsaber!” He waggles his eyebrows. “And later, I’ll show you my other lightsaber.” 
Steve’s face matches the red lightsaber, which Eddie picks up before dragging him outside.
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thefreakandthehair · 3 days
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even better.
written for ‘birthday’ | wc: 290 | rated: teen & up | cw: n/a @steddiemicrofic special edition!
The first time Steve celebrates Eddie's birthday in 1986, all he could offer is a shoulder for Eddie to lean on as he'd scaled the stark, white walls of the hospital, making baby steps towards Wayne at the end of the hall.
Steve swore right then and there that 1987 would be better.
It's how he ends up hiding in a closet of the Munson's new double-wide a year later, a pun Robin points out as she whispers from their hiding spot. Steve shushes her as Nancy laughs softly through her nose next to Jonathan and Argyle, crammed in the corner of the hallway closet. Max and El's giggles can be heard from behind the couch, but Steve doesn't have time to poke his head out and shush them, too. At least Wayne's been quiet, hiding in his bedroom with a cake and trick candles.
The lock to the front door jingles with the familiar sound of Eddie's keys, followed by the cacophony of Hellfire Club. Dustin had been all too ready to jump onboard with Steve's plan to throw a surprise party, quickly gathering the rest of the club for an impromptu campaign that Steve's sure Eddie will still want to run despite the party.
Three, two, one…
"Happy birthday!"
Like clowns falling out of a clown-car, Eddie's surrounded.
"You... how did you... what the fuck?"
"Steve's idea," Robin smirks and wiggles her eyebrows.
He turns to Steve, wide eyed and slack-jawed. "You did this?"
"Yeah. You deserved it, y'know, after last year." Steve scratches his nose and shrugs.
He waits to give Eddie his gift until later, when it's just the two of them left. He kisses him between cigarettes and promises that 1988 will be even better.
happy birthday to @steddieas-shegoes!! please know that I had another hockey-related idea but try as I might, it was not gonna make the 290 word cut. hope you enjoy this instead!!
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vecnuthy · 2 days
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Never a dull moment
Bonus round of @steddiemicrofic for @steddieas-shegoes birthday. Happy birthday, Mickala!! Here's a silly slice of cutie cake for you 💚 | wc: 290 | G | fluff, Eddie being a dramatic little tornado
"Maaan...."
Steve couldn't help but roll his eyes at Eddie's whine as he kept flapping his hand in an attempt to sling off the ridiculously long piece of scotch tape stuck to his fingers.
"Would you stop?" Steve asked through a chortle at his dramatics.
"It won't come off!"
Steve leaned out of the range of Eddie's hand. "You have another hand, just take it off."
Then it happened almost in slow motion.
The sling of Eddie's hand.
The ribbon of tape flying like a streamer stuck to his fingers.
How it snatched at his swaying curls.
Steve's eyes blew wide, already lurching forward to...to...he didn't know what, but he moved. His "Oh shit" got drowned out by Eddie's yelp when it snared his hair and yanked it away.
Eddie looked at the offending tape-clad hand in horror, then slowly cast his gaze on his boyfriend.
"Steve."
The shake in Eddie’s voice made the hair on Steve's arms stand up, but a beat later, Eddie sniffed, then bellowed, "I'm BALD," broken and mournful.
Steve sagged in relief. "It's, like," Steve grabbed his hand and inspected it, "four hairs, Eddie," but Eddie wasn't hearing it, face twisted in devastation as he touched his aching scalp.
"Have you SEEN my uncle, Steve? I need to keep all of the strands I can!"
Steve rose, cooing forlornly, then moved Eddie's hand away, pressing his lips to the sore spot. "Does that make it better?"
"....Mhmm."
"Can't have you going bald already." Another kiss.
"Mm-mm."
Steve smiled into Eddie's hair. "Want me to tape them back on for you?"
Eddie pushed him away, and Steve laughed.
"You tease me on my birthday," Eddie pouted.
"Love teasing you," Steve muttered, grin infectious against Eddie's lips.
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matchingbatbites · 2 days
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For @steddieas-shegoes and the @steddiemicrofic flash challenge! Happy birthday lovely!
Prompt: Birthday | Rating: M | Word count: 290 | CW: Semi-public sex
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Sometimes, Steve wonders what people would think if they knew. If they were even aware that he - one of, if not the most popular guy at Hawkins High - was a bold faced liar.
If they knew that he exaggerates about his relationship with parents, that he plays up his King persona - but most importantly, he wonders what would happen if they knew the truth about his animosity with one Eddie Munson.
It started off genuine enough, sure, but he has a hard time pinpointing exactly when it all changed, when it slipped out of his control and landed him in Eddie's bed. 
Not that he's complaining about it.
Even now, as Eddie shoves two fingers into his mouth with a “Shush, baby. We don't want your lovely subjects to know what's going on, do we?”
Steve shakes his head and whimpers as the fingers push deeper, fully aware of the party still raging downstairs, of his fellow students filling his parents’ home. 
He should feel bad about ditching, considering it's his birthday that everyone is there for, but he just can't seem to drum up the guilt with Eddie's dick grinding against his prostate so perfectly.
“Are you sure, Stevie? I know you love it when I get possessive over you. Maybe I should stake my claim in a different way, hm? Maybe I should send the people's beloved birthday boy back downstairs with an ass full of cum.”
Steve whines and pushes his hips back, he's so fucking close. 
“They'd all see the wet spot on your jeans and wonder who got to tap this beautiful ass. Or maybe they already know. What d’you say, should we let everyone know exactly who owns you, pretty thing?”
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marvel-ous-m · 3 days
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Golden Birthday
@steddiemicrofic prompt: birthday | wc 290 | Gen
Happy Birthday @steddieas-shegoes!! Have the best day! <3
“Happy Birthday, sweet thing.”
Steve blinked his eyes open to the sound of Eddie’s voice and couldn’t repress the smile that came to his face when he saw his boyfriend hovering above him.
Eddie greeted him with a bright smile. “Do you feel older, golden boy?”
“Well, I feel the same as I felt last night when I was 24, so…”
“Alright. No need to be so sassy, I was trying to be cute.” Eddie rolled his eyes, then dipped down to place a kiss on Steve’s nose.
Steve huffed out a laugh, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist to hold him there.
"Got any fun plans today?” Eddie’s question was whispered against Steve’s lips, and Steve just couldn’t resist teasing him.  
“Hmmm… no, I don’t think so. Nothing comes to mind.” Steve tilted his head to cross the distance separating him from Eddie’s lips, kissing him in time to muffle Eddie’s indignant squawk.
Eddie broke the kiss with a shove to Steve’s chest, rolling over to the other side of the bed so that he could sit up and stare Steve down. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”
“Uh, let me see…” Steve trailed off, trying desperately to keep his smile at bay. “Nope, nothing.”
“Oh. Well, I guess I’ll just find someone else to come with me to the concert. Surely someone else we know appreciates the musical stylings of Mr. Billy Joel…”
“You’re the worst, y’know that?” Steve propped himself up on his elbows, grinning at Eddie- who was smiling right back at him.
“Yeah, I know.” Eddie got up off the bed, hoisting Steve up as he went, pulling him right into another kiss. “Happy 25th, sweetheart. Love you more than words.”
“Love you too, Eds. So much.”
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hobbyistauthor · 2 days
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9 ▰▱▰▱ Take Me Home (Please Stay With Me) ▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱
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"came back wrong" post-s4 fanfiction, featuring monster kas!eddie. pre-steddie -> steddie
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minors DNI please, Steve has some S P I C Y thoughts, although nothing too explicit yet.
TW: References to period-typical homophobia, brief discussion of HIV/AIDS crisis.
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Part I ┊ Part II ┊ Part III ┊ Part IV ┊ Part V ┊ Part VI ┊ Part VII ┊ Part VIII ┊ Part IX (📍)
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Arlene grins at him, although her smile is painfully awkward and more like a grimace to Steve’s eyes.
“Guess I wasn't as clear as I thought I was.”
She steps towards him, holding her arms out in invitation. “Baby Bear, I'm so sorry, I completely misunderstood the subtext.” She apologizes and Steve's heart immediately starts to mend itself from the damage his knee-jerk fear at being outed caused, healing by the grace of the heartfelt nature of her words. The cracks that widened along the well-worn fault lines that spiderweb across the shattered patchwork remnants of his heart begin to fill in slowly, rebuilding yet again. He should have known, he should have never doubted his mom because she always has his back. He chokes down a relieved sob as all of the stress from the last few minutes comes crashing down on him with all of its immense weight, sending him stumbling into his mom’s open arms. He feels safe and warm, cradled in an embrace he’s missed terribly for the past three years. He immediately starts crying, the tears coming hot and fast down his cheeks and leaving salty streaks in their wake.
“Ohh, baby…” Arlene shushes him softly, rocking Steve gently side to side while she cards her fingers through his hair. He feels like a child again, comforted after falling and skinning his knee playing outside. He clutches to her harder, the catharsis too great to hold back as he gasps huge wet breaths in between his long bouts of sobbing, choking cries. He has no idea what she's doing here, back home in Hawkins when it looks less like a small town and more like a war zone, but he’s certainly not complaining about her presence. He’s missed her, and right now he's going to relish being close to his mom again for as long as she sticks around. He knows how busy she is, how important her new position at Ellsco is and he refuses to be the reason that gets jeopardized. Arlene smells like good wine and expensive cologne–not perfume, she’d never liked perfume–and Steve buries his face in the crook of her neck, sniffles at where she's warm and her pulse is strong. His fingers are fisted tightly in the fabric of her button-front, wrinkling the expensive fabric, but she doesn't even flinch. She’s always had her priorities in line, and laundry ranks far below her only son.
“I'm so sorry, honey,” she murmurs again, cradling the back of his head in her palm. “I know how dangerous the world is for people like me, and I should have known better than just making assumptions about who you’d told or hadn’t told about your presumed sexuality. What I said and the implications could have put you in danger were we around prying ears, even if you aren’t queer, because rumors are powerful things. Granted, I don’t think Eddie is the kind of person to think less of you if you were queer, if it's any consolation? I told him I was a lesbian and he didn’t really bat an eyelash, very respectful… I don't think Eddie will remember what I said, either? He's fairly blitzed...”
Steve laughs, the sound weak and wet from all his weeping. “N-no. It's okay,” he wants to reassure her, because honestly the fact that she’d wanted to goof around with him about it, wanted to normalize his queerness just like she would have done if he were feeling this way about a girl means more to him than words can say. She hadn’t done that out of malice, she knows how dangerous it is out there for people like them, knows she made a mistake by outing him–even if he technically hasn’t confirmed or denied it, yet–and apologized for it, too. Knowing that his mom is like him, like Robin, warms him from the inside out, igniting a bonfire in his chest and comforting him like the way it would dispel the chill of an autumn night. He thinks he might be ready to finally give voice to the words he’s never let himself say.
“I'm… I mean…”
“... Baby Bear?”
Steve takes a stuttering breath, trembling as his grip tightens on his mom’s shirt, “I… I'm not straight, mom.”
Arlene cards a hand gently through his hair, her other arm pulling tight across his shoulders with a comforting weight. He leans into her embrace, his eyes squeezing shut as his heartbeat races in his chest. He’s never said it out loud before; never actually voiced the truth to anyone besides himself in the safety of his own mind, well and truly alone with his thoughts. Hell, he's not even told Robin yet, although he's pretty sure she suspects, as if squinty eyed knowing looks she's been shooting him lately weren't telling enough. It’s not that he’s in any way ashamed to admit his bisexuality, but. It’s always felt like something he’s just not allowed to talk about? He’s not greedy, it’s not like being bisexual makes him more likely to cheat or anything–that’s horrible, and he refuses to ever cheat on anyone–but he likes both. He has a luxury in being able to choose to take the safe option; the path of least resistance. It’s not like he’s truly sacrificing because it’s not a lie, is it? He very well can fall in love with and have a perfectly fulfilling relationship with a woman–it doesn’t mean he doesn’t also find men attractive or that the potential to have the same type of relationship with a man is miraculously no longer there, but. He has the luxury of appearing straight-passing. Robin and people like her can never have that, the illusion of safety, without cutting away a part of themselves and pretending to be something they’re not. Forcing themselves into boxes that don’t fit for the sake of keeping themselves alive in a world that wishes them dead.
“Thank you for telling me,” mom’s voice is soft and gentle, soothing as she continues to hold him, “it’s very brave of you.”
He laughs, the sound wet and full of self-hatred, “Is it?” he scoffs.
Arlene pulls back from him, tenderly cupping his cheeks in her hands and looking Steve in the eyes, an intensity behind her long lashes. Her brows are furrowed and her lips are pursed, deep sorrow intermingling with the upset painted across her face.
“Stevie, of course it is. Coming out is terrifying, every time. It’s sometimes the hardest thing you may ever do in your life, because it’s voicing something so deeply personal to someone you hope you can trust. And sometimes,” her lips twitch into a bittersweet smile, “sometimes that trust is broken.”
Steve smiles back, wobbly and wet as he sniffles some tears away. He chuckles, relief washing over him as it actually starts to sink in that his mom is okay with him, that she’s not going to abandon him, that she believes him. It’s freeing and the tears stream down his cheeks anew, a sob wrenching its way out of his throat. Arlene shushes him, a broken worried sound, as her thumbs wipe away the salty streams as they tumble down his face. His sobs are half laughter, relief tangling up with the remnants of his anxiety, the internalized self-hatred he’s been working on sweeping away. Robin has talked about internalized homophobia before, and he’s more than aware he’s been working on his own since that day on the floor of the nasty Starcourt movie theater bathroom. Having his mother here, supporting him, loving him so earnestly, helps to rip it from where it stubbornly clings to the walls of Steve’s thoughts, and with every tear track she wipes away, he feels himself grow lighter.
“Mo- Momma Bear,” he warbles out, unable to stop his crying even as he smiles, “Momma, I’m bisexual.”
Arlene pauses in her earnest wiping of his tears, blinking at him. Slowly, and with the warmth of the sun rising above the horizon in the breaking of dawn, she smiles at him. Her eyes crinkle with how wide her lips pull, glistening with unshed tears of her own, sniffling as she just looks at him. He can see the pride in her eyes, the happiness in her smile. 
“Baby Bear,” she says, “I love you so, so much.”
“Love you too, Momma,” he murmurs, throwing himself back into her arms, squeezing tightly. She’s smaller than him now, and it catches him off guard a little. Arlene has always felt larger than life to Steve, the biggest person in the room every time, but now he stands slightly taller than her and broader than her in the shoulders and arms. She fits against him differently than she used to–it’s still a shelter, but the comfort shared feels equal in exchange.
“So,” Arlene asks, her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms tucked under his to rest against his shoulder blades, “when did you know, Stevie-bear? Last I’d heard from you it was all ladies all the time. What changed?”
He chuckles, pressing his nose into her hair where it’s started to come loose from its’ styling. “I’ve always known, I think. I started noticing boys the same time I noticed girls, but context cues from people around me made it obvious that boys didn’t talk about other boys like boys talked about girls.” He shrugs, inhaling the familiar simple scent of her expensive shampoo. “I actually thought everyone had the same thoughts as me, finding everyone pretty and just choosing not to acknowledge the other side of things until later on. I um. I met someone who’s gay, actually, and they kind of made me realize that my way of thinking wasn’t exactly straight.”
“Oh?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, carefully considering his next words to keep Robin’s identity to himself. His mom might also be a lesbian, but he would never out Robin, even to another queer person. He couldn’t betray her trust like that. “We were talking and I asked them to choose between two celebrities, which one they thought was hotter. They said neither, and I was so confused. I said, ‘not even like, objectively?’ and they were just so meh about the whole thing I really had to reevaluate my entire life, really.”
Arlene laughs along with Steve, and he presses his forehead against the curve of her shoulder. Sighing.
“We took a few trips up to Indy, and there’s a couple of bookshops up there that sell, um. Zines? And other queer literature? So I kind of, immersed myself in that, and I realized I was probably bisexual all along and just hadn’t understood that liking both was an option.”
“Mm, sexuality is a fascinating thing, isn’t it?”
Steve chuckles, pulling back from Arlene for a moment to look at his mom. She seems softer in the waning light of the kitchen, hair falling from its styling, her shirt rumpled–blazer long lost–and standing in her socks on the tile. He can feel the fondness in his own bearing, no doubt mirroring the expression she has on her face as she looks back at him. His dad used to complain about how similar he looks to his mom–how closely he took to the Ellsworth family genetics rather than the Harrington genes. Steve’s never been more grateful for that.
“I mean, learning about the Kinsey scale was pretty interesting,” he says, “I’m not a perfect 3 I don’t think,” he admits, shrugging. He’s definitely pickier about what men he’s attracted to than he is about what draws him to women. The basics are there–brown hair, doe eyes, intelligent, a little mean–but otherwise, it’s just easier with women. He doesn’t have preferences or anything beyond his four main attraction points, but men? Men have to be pretty in some way… something about them has to strike Steve in a way that makes him pause, consider, and think wow, he’s pretty, huh? If that thought doesn’t happen, there’s no attraction, it’s just another dude. 
“I think the number was um, a 2?” he taps his lips with a finger as he thinks, “Like, women are just easier for me to notice, because women, right?” He makes a curvy gesture with his hands while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, making his mom snort a laugh, but she’s smiling and nodding so he continues. “But, like, objectively, I notice when dudes are hot. I mean, it doesn’t really do anything for me, I just notice.”
He licks his lips as his thoughts drift to one particular man. He feels hot where the blood flushes the skin of his neck, his mouth suddenly becoming dry as a desert. “But… sometimes a man just floors me with how pretty he is, you know?” He kind of hates how dreamy his voice gets by the end of his little monologue, how telling he’s being in the way he talks about a not-so-hypothetical man. 
“Well,” Arlene says, raising an eyebrow at Steve that makes him feel so seen, “I do not know, because I am a big ol’ Kinsey 6,” she smirks and Steve groans. “But! I understand what you mean,” she laughs at his disgruntled expression, and the sound is so fond and teasing that Steve can’t help his blush and shoves gently at his mom.
“Shut up, mom! Oh my god, why am I talking about this with you!?”
“Because I’m your mother and you missed me and I’m also gay as fuck, Stevie-bear! You know you’re safe talking about your boy-crushes with me, now,” she croons softly at him, clearly conscious of her volume as she leans into his space, grinning mischievously.
Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile gives away his happiness with the continued ease of their relationship. His mom relents, leaning back against the kitchen island and smoothly exiting Steve’s personal space.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Mom, but why are you here? Back in Hawkins?”
Arlene sighs, the sound heavy as though she’s carrying the weight of the world as she tilts her head backwards.
“I wanted to see you, Bear,” she admits, “and after the truly horrendous call I had with the financial advisor over the phone about how I wanted to adjust the terms of access for the trust,” she makes a face, sticking out her tongue and rolling her eyes, “I knew it would be simpler to come here myself and handle it in person. That it gave me an excuse to see you? A bonus that Charlene was all too willing to exploit to bully the rest of the board into getting me some well deserved R&R time.” 
Arlene preens a little, clearly delighted with the ingenuity of herself and Charlene–he’s glad that he knows how well his mom pays her, because honestly that woman has to be a saint to put up with the ridiculous energy and demands of his mother on a daily basis–she’s a tough business woman, and for good reason.
“You do work a lot, Mom,” Steve says, his smile going crooked with fondness at his mother’s dramatic flair, “I’m glad Charlene’s in your corner.”
“Mm, I’m going to make sure I can wrangle her up a good bonus again this year… or maybe a raise? The taxes they throw on bonuses are bullshit, anyway.”
“Definitely a raise, Mom.”
“I’ll do that, then, Stevie-bear. Thanks for your input,” she waves him closer and he goes easily, bending forward when she beckons, receiving a smacking forehead kiss for his obedience. It fills his heart with warmth and he realizes his smile has yet to fade. They stand together in comfortable silence in their kitchen for a long moment, just existing in each other’s space. It’s both strange and welcoming, a reminder of something he’s not thought he’d have again. Just being with his mom makes Steve feel safe, but it’s been such a long time, it’s foreign even through the oddly nostalgic tingle that dances across his skin.
“So,” Arlene finally breaks the silence, “can you explain to me what exactly is going on with Eddie?”
“I–”
“Look, Stevie,” she sighs, “you know I’m not judging you in the slightest, right? I just feel like I need a better grasp on the situation. I mean, I walked into my own home to the guy perched on my countertops eating fucking Spaghetti-Os over the sink and looking like some sort of fantasy monster out of one of Le Guin’s novels. I need a little more context than the vague garbage excuses Owens and Stinson spouted at me.”
Steve raises an eyebrow, surprised she even knows anything, “Um, yeah, about that–how–?”
“Ellsco works with government contracts, and that requires me to have certain levels of clearance regarding confidential matters,” Arlene replies, a smug eyebrow raise punctuating her statement, “So needless to say, they learned quickly that they couldn’t shut me out. Not when Ellsco is as intertwined and as important to their work as we are.”
“Mom,” Steve breathes, “you didn’t!”
“You bet your ass I did!” she scoffs, “What, you think I wouldn’t threaten to pull funding for their weird little projects entirely once I found out my son was involved in something they fucked up?! And they thought they could just not tell me?”
“Oh my g–” Steve cackles, “Jesus Christ, you’re such a fucking badass, holy shit!”
“Praise me all you want, Bear, but that’s not getting you out of explaining what the hell is up with the claws and the ears and fangs and the tail.”
“He’s got wings too, actually.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” He nods, “They’re small enough he can hide ‘em under his shirts now, if they’re baggy enough, but yeah.”
“Huh.” Arlene blinks slowly before she tosses her head slightly, as though she’s forcibly shaking herself out of her thoughts, “No distracting me, Bear. How did he get like that? Is it because of the, eh, what did they call it… Upside Down? The thing that caused the earthquakes and the weird cracks in the ground?”
“Kind of. It’s… it’s a really long story,” Steve sighs, raking his hand through his hair, “can… can we go sit down for this?”
“Jesus,” Arlene mutters, a concerned expression crossing her face, “how long is long, baby? You need to sit down to tell it?”
“Um.” 
“Baby Bear…”
“It’s been going on since ‘83.”
“Are you fucking–goddamn ‘83?!”
Steve cringes and shrugs, “I–I mean, y-yeah?”
Arlene pinches the bridge of her nose, “Shit. I might pull funding out of spite anyway, Jesus fucking Christ. And let me guess,” she spits, “you’ve been involved the whole goddamn time?”
“Uh–”
“Nope, no, Stevie-bear, that was rhetorical, you’re my kid, of course you were fucking involved. You’re too kind to not want to help, even if it was terrifying…”
“Um–”
“Did the fucking government just leave it all in the hands of fucking children?!”
“I mean, Ms. Byers and Hop were there the whole time–”
“Ms. Byers? Hop?” Arlene squints at Steve briefly, before she shakes her head, “Joyce and Jim? You’re telling me they were the only adults who knew about this?”
“I mean, yeah?” he shrugs, “It was mostly me, Nance, Jon, and later on, Rob? Oh, and the kids I told you about? The ones I babysit? And Ms. Byers and Hop were the adults in the know. We’ve kinda’ been like, the first line of defense, you know?”
Arlene looks distraught the more he talks, and Steve feels guilty for making his mom upset. He’d hoped he would have made her feel better, knowing he’s had adults on their side at least, but somehow he thinks he’s made it worse.
“Good God, baby…” she sounds winded, “how–how have you not called me for help sooner?”
“You’ve been busy, Mom,” he shrugs, “I’m okay, and you’ve got your own life. I don’t want to bother you with the trivial stuff.”
“None of that is trivial!”
He flinches.
“Baby!” He blinks in shock as warm palms fit smoothly around his cheeks, staring into his mom’s desperate teary eyes, “baby, nothing I do is more important than you, especially not if you need help.”
“I–”
“There’s nothing I can do about it now, it’s too little too late, but, please, Baby Bear,” she pleads with him, a frantic tone in her voice, “tell me next time, never assume it’s trivial, because I promise you, it isn’t.”
Unbidden, Steve feels tears well up again. He hasn’t cried this much since he was a kid, but he supposes it’s fitting now that his mom is back, bringing with her that feeling of safety he’d thought had vanished along with the warmth of his childhood summers in Italy.
“Okay,” he warbles, “O- Okay, momma, I promise.”
“Good,” she nods her head once, a jerky, emotional motion before gingerly focusing her attention on wiping the stray tears from Steve’s cheeks.
“C- Can we go sit now? If you still want to know about everything?”
“Yeah, Stevie-bear.” Arlene steps back away from him, her hands slipping from his face to his shoulders, sliding down his arms slowly, soothingly. Her delicate, manicured fingers gently encircle his wrists, holding him so softly with just the slightest pressure against the beat of his pulse. He smiles at her, feeling the way it wobbles on his lips in time with the tumultuous emotions roiling in his gut. She returns it in kind and together they head back into the living room, hand in hand. 
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Steve is half expecting Eds to be waiting for them like an eager puppy, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, but they aren’t greeted by his enthusiasm at all. Steve’s anxiety rises immediately and he darts away from his mom, bee-lining to the couch since that was the last place he saw Eddie. His heart calms when his eyes settle on the form of his sweetheart, curled around the blanket he snuggles under with Steve most nights, his nose buried in the folds and making soft huffing breaths in his sleep. Steve deflates, leaning heavily against the couch as the relief washes over him. He’s helpless to resist the urge that rises, reaching out and running his fingers through the beautiful boy’s hair, pushing it out of his face and tracing the shell of his long, tapered ear as he tucks the dark curls behind it. He knows how soft his expression must be, glad that his back is to his mom, because he doesn’t think he can stand her teasing right now. Eddie purrs quietly in his sleep, pressing into Steve’s touch and it pulls him back to reality. He straightens, turning back to Arlene. 
“Um, I’m going to sit here,” he tells her, aware his face is completely giving him away, but determined to not let it bother him. He squares his shoulders.
Arlene simply smiles warmly at him, pushing the armchair closer to the couch and settling into it, tucking her legs underneath her as she waits for him to get himself situated.
Steve exhales, looking down at the sweet, half-monster curled so cutely on the couch. He makes a quick decision and prays his mom won’t razz him too much for it.
He sits on the middle cushion, pulling one of the decorative pillows up against his side as a bolster before reaching over towards Eddie. Gently, he hauls the larger beastie towards him, eliciting some quiet grumbles but once Eds seems to understand that Steve’s thighs are to become his new pillow, Eds quiets quickly, purring loudly in pleasure and snuggling in, rolling over and pressing his face against Steve’s stomach. Steve sinks one hand into Eds’ hair, the other falling between his shoulder blades, skirting around the edges of where he knows Eddie’s wings lay flat against his back. He runs his fingers through dark curls, scraping blunt nails across his sweetheart’s scalp while Steve’s other hand rubs tender circles of delicate pressure against the knobs of Eddie’s spine through the yellow sweater he’s stolen from Steve’s closet. The purring sound increases in volume, the weight of his sweetheart doubling across his lap as the beastie goes boneless from Steve’s attention. 
“He’s very telling, isn’t he?”
“No,” Steve sighs, “he’s just affectionate, I think.”
Arlene scrunches her brow, “Really? Stevie–”
“Eddie died, mom.”
The sharp inhale he hears makes him squeeze his eyes shut as old pain rises to the surface. He hates thinking about it, but it’s the reality. Eddie is like this because he’d died in the Upside Down, and they’d–he’d–left Eddie there to rot.
“We… Spring Break,” Steve chokes out, “was the most recent incident. A- A girl was killed in front of him, mom. He- He had no idea about any of it before then, you know? He’d just run this dorky little nerd game club that the boys I babysit for are nutso about, and he was- he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think he was trying to help her, really. Wrong way to help her, with drugs, but I mean, his heart was in the right place.”
Steve chuckles, tugging a little on Eds’ curls and pulling a soft whine from his throat, the sound smothered in the fabric of Steve’s shirt. He barely catches it, but the vibration against his stomach makes him shiver with want. He stuffs it down, because now isn’t the time for those kinds of thoughts, but he logs it in his memory for later.
“Anyway, she- she died really awfully, mom. Like, body-horror awful. He ran, and I don’t blame him. It made it look like he’d killed her, though, which fucking blows. Hop and the government spooks are working on clearing his name, but we don’t know how long that’s going to take. Anyway… turns out what killed this girl in his home in front of him is tied to the shit that’s been happening since ‘83. We all got roped in, and well… in the end, we had to uh, split the party. He went with Dustin–” he looks up at his mom, brow furrowed, “I’ve told you about Dustin, right?”
Arlene smiles at him, eyes soft and incredibly sad through all the fondness scrawled across every inch of her face.
“Yeah, Stevie-bear,” she says, kindly, “you have. You said he’s like the little brother you always wish you’d had, even if he has… Oh, what did you say? Ah, right,” she chuckles, “the biggest ego you’ve ever seen.”
Steve snorts, “Y- Yeah, that’s Dusty, alright. Um, yeah. So… Eddie went with Dust, they were the distraction, cause there were these other things that uhhh–basically they were trying to block us from stopping the evil guy who we’d been calling Vecna or One… and they did, but something went wrong. So to protect Dustin, he–”
Steve chokes on his emotions, fear and nausea rising in his throat as memories of finding Dustin wailing over Eddie’s corpse bombard his mind, filling him with grief all over again. He has to focus on not hyperventilating because fuck, Eddie’s right here, in his lap, breathing and alive–changed but alive–and while he’d left Eddie behind, Steve had gone back, he’d gotten Eds out of there, he’d gotten Eddie out of Hell. He exhales, shaking.
“To protect Dustin, he made the sacrifice play… and he’d not made it.”
“Oh, Stevie…”
He feels the tears spilling, can hear the agony in his mom’s voice, the empathy in her tone, sympathy oozing on every word. He sniffles, roughly wiping his face with the back of his hand, laughing humorlessly as the tears continue to burble down his cheeks, fat and unrelenting.
“I- I’d had to drag Dust off of him… off his corpse, mom. He- He was kicking and screaming, his ankle was broken, and he didn’t care, he just–” Steve chokes on another sob, “–he just wanted Eddie to be alive, and there I was, dragging him away from- from one of the only other older male figures in his life. And- And I had to leave his body there to rot.”
Arlene is on her feet between one heartbeat and the next, falling onto the cushion beside Steve and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly and rocking them gently back and forth. He sobs.
“I- I had to leave him behind, mom!”
“Shh, Stevie, shhhh…” she soothes, her voice broken and threaded with sadness, “it sounds like you didn’t have a choice, baby, you’re just one man.”
“I- I should have tried harder, mom! I should never have left him there!”
“Oh, baby… oh my Baby Bear, no…” Arlene chokes out, her arms trembling where they clutch tight around him, “It’s not your fault, and I guarantee Eddie would tell you the exact same thing if he was awake right now.”
Steve breaks.
He falls apart, crumbling into his mom’s embrace as she holds him, quietly murmuring wordless comfort. The weight of Eddie’s body across his lap is grounding, and it keeps him from completely disconnecting from reality as he weeps, clutching Arlene’s button front so hard he’s almost afraid he might tear holes into the fabric. His mom’s fingers thread into the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, stroking with firm passes that make him go boneless with a pained whine, his face sticky with salt from all the tears he’s cried as he buries it in his mom’s shoulder. He feels a tight pressure around his waist, and he lifts his head from where he’s had it smashed against Arlene’s body, looking down to see that Eddie has wound one of his arms around Steve, snuggling in close and deepening his sub-vocal purring noises to the point that Steve can feel the vibrations strongly through his skin.
“I had a lot of time to get to know Eddie today, Stevie.”
Steve lifts his gaze, turning swollen, teary eyes to his mother’s face. She looks determined, a stubborn set to her jaw that makes Steve sit up and listen, because for all that his mother is playful and kind, she’s also fierce and refuses to not be taken seriously when the situation calls for it. 
“Not a single thing that he told me has led me to believe that he would for a single second allow you to go on thinking that his death was in any way your fault.”
“But–”
“Nor would he allow you to beat yourself up for leaving him behind. I’m certain that he understands that you had to decide between a corpse and a living person–between his dead body and Dustin, who if I’m not mistaken, you both adore–which he would agree is a no-brainer decision, Stevie.”
“I–”
“Steve.”
He swallows, blinking away the remnants of tears at the fierce tone in his mom’s voice.
“Eddie is a kind boy. He would hate that you’re beating yourself up like this. And he’s back now, isn’t he? If I know you,” she says, raising an eyebrow, “and I like to think that I do, you probably went back for him, didn’t you?”
Speechless, all Steve can do is nod. Arlene sighs, hanging her head.
“Steve,” she says on an exhale, “that decision alone is… it’s amazing, incredibly kind and thoughtful. You went back to collect a body, I’m assuming, to bring closure to a mourning family and to a boy you love like a little brother. How am I doing so far?”
“P- Pretty good, actually,” he chuckles humorlessly.
Arlene hums, “Figured. So when you went back, what did you find?”
Steve takes a deep breath, collecting himself. She’s amazing at this, refocusing the conversations when they deviate off the ideal pathways. It’s something that makes her an excellent businesswoman–distracting anecdotes don’t work on her.
“Um. He wasn’t human anymore. Eds was… he was basically a feral monster. But- But I took a risk, and it… it worked. He recognized me, and um. I think he imprinted on me or something?”
“Oh?”
“Y- Yeah, he got, uhh. Really affectionate? Um, didn’t want to part from me, liked to be touching all the time, very protective.”
“Animalistic, would you say?”
“Y-Yeah, that’s a good way to put it, I guess.” Steve agrees, nodding, “He seemed to run almost exclusively off of like, instinct or something, and it wasn’t human instinct. Whatever happened to him down there, it mutated him into whatever he is now.”
His mom’s face twists slightly in a disagreeing expression, “He’s not that mutated, Stevie. A little different maybe, with the ears and tail and claws, but it’s not completely inexplicable or unable to be concealed.”
“It was… it was worse, before.”
“What do you mean, worse?”
Steve exhales, dropping his gaze back down to the sleeping sweetheart sprawled across his lap. His fingers tighten in their hold within dark curls, pulling a thick, needy sound from Eds’ throat that’s thankfully muffled into Steve’s shirt. 
“I mean… it was more obvious that he wasn’t–isn’t–human anymore, mom. He didn’t look even remotely human when we found him. He walked on four legs, his face was more bat-like than human… hell, you’ve seen how big he is. I thought he was going to kill me at first, but…”
“But he didn’t.”
Steve shakes his head, a melancholic smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards, “Like I said, he recognized me, or something, and bonded with me somehow. The affectionate nature just… never left, and he’s been really tactile ever since.”
“So, if he was more–” Arlene’s words are cut off by the dinging of a timer. He looks in tandem with her to glance through the doorway into the kitchen, before returning his gaze back to her face.
“... are you cooking something, mom?”
“Ah, shit,” she says, clapping her hands on her thighs and standing with a quiet grunt, “Yeah, I was. I was actually teaching your boy there the patented Chiara family bolognese before we started drinking.” 
Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest, because that’s…
“Mom…”
She smiles at him, a knowing look in her blue-green eyes as she raises an eyebrow at him, “Stevie, the poor thing was eating Spaghetti-Os. What kind of Italian-American would I be if I didn’t offer to feed him?”
“Fair point,” he laughs quietly, resuming his petting through Eddie’s soft curls, looking down at the boy in his lap, “but you… you were teaching him..?”
Arlene shrugs, “I just get the feeling that this one wants to stick around, Baby Bear,” she says as she turns and walks away to the kitchen, no doubt to check on the bolognese. 
Steve chews on his lower lip after she leaves the living room, wishing horribly that he knew what the two of them had talked about while he was at work, or what his mom had seen in Eddie that makes her so sure of him. The Chiara family recipes are a closely guarded secret, and he knows how tightly she holds them, how fiercely she protects them. That she was so willing to share the family recipes with Eddie, it seems impossible. She’s said before that she would share them with his future wife, but he’s definitely not made a marriage announcement. (Although it’s not like his overly-romantic hard-and-fast heart hasn’t imagined it already… Maybe she’s considering it good-as, because technically actual marriage is illegal for people like them–like mom and himself?) Steve shakes his head and waits for his mom to come back, focusing on the happy rumbles coming from the sleeping beast in his lap.
Arlene saunters back into the living room five minutes later, smelling of delicious meat sauce and humming with satisfaction. She settles back into her armchair and smiles at Steve.
“So. Where were we?”
“Uhhh,” he blinks, “we were talking about how I found Eds in the Upside Down.”
“Right,” she nods, “you said he bonded with you, or something of that nature and became affectionate and tactile, and that hasn’t faded.”
“Yeah.”
“You mentioned that he was… hmm.” Arlene trails off, her brows furrowed as she clearly searches for the right word, “Monstrous when you found him, correct?”
“Mmhm, yeah. He didn’t even really look human, his hair was more of a mane and his face wasn’t even remotely human-shaped, he kinda had a bat-like smushed nose. And like, two sets of ears? Giant talons and huge wings, his tail was even way longer and stronger too.”
Arlene squints, “So then, how exactly did he start to look more… human?”
Steve smiles, “That was all Dustin.”
“Oh? You let Dustin see him?”
“Of course I did. I knew he would be safe, Eds loves Dust just as much as I do. Plus, he did really well with Wayne so it seemed perfectly alright to let the little shithead come over… besides, I didn’t really want to let him go on hurting and mourning Eddie’s death if he didn’t have to, you know? It really messed him up, mom. I hated seeing him like that… it was like he’d lost a huge part of himself, and here I had a way to help him heal from that wound.”
His mom’s eyes are soft, her lips pulled into a gentle smile that’s dripping with love and Steve squirms under the weight of her gaze, heat rising up his neck and making his cheeks blotchy with embarrassment.
“A- Anyway,” he stutters, “Dust figured out he’s some strange variation on a vampire, and so we tried feeding him blood to test the theory. It worked, and so since then I’ve been feeding him my blood, which has been helping him regain a more human appearance.”
“Your blood?”
“It’s not very much! I don’t even get, like, dizzy after he feeds!” Steve raises the hand that’s not buried in Eds’ hair, waving it frantically, “It’s barely even like donating blood–I don’t think he takes anywhere near a pint every time he feeds.”
“Okay… and you’re being safe, right?”
“Mom, this… this isn’t like The Crisis, okay?” he whispers, “And even if it was, I’m not stupid enough to take any chances with my own health or his, I promise.”
“Ellsco headquarters might be in Boston, but I’ve already watched a few of my friends just… disappear, and I’d…” Arlene squares her shoulders, “I would hate to watch my son fade away like that. I just want you to be safe, okay? Do you know… do you know how to go and get tested, Bear?”
He nods, “I- I read about it in a zine I got from Indy.”
Arlene nods once, decisive, “I’ll go with you, if you want to get it done while I’m here.”
Steve smiles at her, wobbly and grateful, “Okay, mom. That’s weird, getting tested with your mom, but… I’m grateful.”
“We can make a day of it,” she says, waving a hand and settling back in her armchair, “get some breakfast somewhere, get the testing–I should get my testing updated, too, honestly–and then just shop around and enjoy ourselves!”
“Ah–but, what about Eds?” Steve bites his lip and looks down at the sleeping boy, “I don’t think I’d be able to just… leave him behind all day to go have fun without him.”
“Hm,” Arlene hums, “well, we can wait a bit, of course. Oh!” her eyes brighten as a devious smirk spreads across her face. Steve’s heart races in his chest as his nerves blare alarm bells in his head.
“Mom… what are you…”
“I bet I could just con Owens into doing it for us.”
“MOM!”
“What? The asshole owes me.” She scoffs and tosses her head, a childish pout on her lips, “He tried to keep me from my own son, what absolute gall.”
Steve snorts, “Okay, okay. Alright, mom.”
“Plus, wouldn’t it be better for Eddie’s blood to remain with someone we have leverage with, rather than some random lab people who might report any abnormalities?”
“Wait–you’re including Eds in our weird little mother-son testing day? Mom!”
She shrugs, “Well, isn’t it better for you to know now? I mean, if you two are gonna be–”
“SHHH! MOM!!” he whisper shrieks at her, his face flaming.
“What?” she blinks, false innocence across her face as her lips threaten to break into a cheesing grin, “He’s asleep, he’s not listening.”
“Jesus H. Christ, you can’t just say that!! Besides,” he grumbles, “just because I like him doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes me, even if he has been really tactile and affectionate, okay?”
Steve hears the sound of skin slapping against skin and he looks up at his mom, brows furrowing at the sight of her with her hand pressed over her face. She groans, the sound pained and he wonders if she just smacked herself in the forehead or something, which is pretty unlike her.
“Uhh, mom? …You okay?”
“Peachy,” she grouses out. “Stevie-bear, light of my life; I adore you, but sometimes I want to shake you until your head flies off.”
“Um.”
Arlene peels her hand away from her face, leveling Steve with the flattest look he’s ever seen her shoot him before. She heaves a great sigh, shaking her head.
“You’re pretty convinced he’s not interested in you like that then, Stevie?”
“I mean…” he swallows, his blotchy blush filling in further as more heat floods his face, “I would be really happy if he were interested, but… I don’t, um. I don’t think he is? He’s been physically affectionate, but from what I’ve heard from Wayne, I don’t think he’s like us.”
She arches an eyebrow, “You know sexuality is fluid, so why are you being so rigid with him? Who’s to say that he couldn’t be interested in you?”
Steve chews on his lower lip, fidgeting with his handful of Eddie’s curls, “You’re… you’re not wrong, I guess. But, it sort of feels like I’m forcing my feelings on him when I think about it like that, you know?”
“Not really, Stevie.”
He huffs, a puff of air blowing stray bangs back off his forehead. “It’s like I’m taking what I want to see in him and forcing it to be the truth, even if it’s really not, confusing my own desires with what’s actually there.”
“Mixing fantasy and reality?”
He snaps, pointing at his mom as she puts words to his thoughts. “Yes! That!”
Arlene sighs, “I suppose I can understand falling for the straight person. It’s definitely happened before, and I’ve only seen you two interact very briefly, but…” she trails off, lips pursed and brow furrowed. Steve watches his mom carefully. It’s telling how selective she’s being in choosing her words, it’s obvious she thinks she knows something, and again he wonders just what she and Eds talked about while he was at work. 
“I mean, you saw us interact while Eds was drunk, mom.”
She waves him off, “In vino veritas, Stevie.”
He rolls his eyes at her and waits for her to finally come up with what she wants to say.
“I don’t think it’s as far from reality as you think it may be.” She says quietly, fixing him with a serious look, “He clearly adores you, and the way he spoke about you when we were talking felt like it went beyond just friendship to me.”
Steve’s heart stutters in his chest, that tiny flame of hope sputtering and sparking where he’s kept it safe behind his ribs.
“I don’t think it would be completely far-fetched to maybe consider testing those waters a bit more, Stevie. If you really like him the way I think you do,” she raises an eyebrow as his blush darkens, “then you should maybe show him more. Turn up the charm, give him more of a taste of what you have to offer.”
“I–”
“Steve, Eddie is a sweet boy.” She says this as a statement, like she knows it’s a fact, and it soothes something deep in his brain–some anxious doubt lurking around at the edges and making him feel off kilter. With the easing of it, the ground beneath his feet is no longer lurching, suddenly stabilized and solid once again. 
“I spoke to him a lot today and I can confidently say that you wouldn’t lose him if you were to admit any feelings. Or if that’s too much too fast for you, just being more obvious about how you feel about him wouldn’t end with him outright rejecting those advances. Hell, you might be surprised.”
“But…”
“Stevie,” Arlene interrupts him, leaning forward in her seat, “you should just do what you want, okay? Just, treat him like you would if he was just one of the girls you dated before.”
“He’s so much more than them, though…”
“Then show him that, Stevie.”
He swallows, nerves alight with possibilities as that tiny flame grows just a little stronger where it remains safe in his heart. Hope bubbles in his chest, feeding it steadily as he contemplates what his mom has just told him. She’s more experienced in this sort of thing than him, he has to admit–queer romance is out of his wheelhouse, as this is his first actual attempt. And he’s terrified still, but there’s a thrill that runs through his veins now that wasn’t there before, beating in tandem with the pulse of the flickering flame behind its ivory cage. 
“You- You really think I should? That I- That I have a chance?”
“I do, Baby Bear. I really, really do.” She says, a smile spreading across her face, “I just want to see you happy, and it’s so obvious how happy he makes you, even now.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Any time, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too, momma.”
Arlene flops back in the armchair, gusting out a breath, “Lord almighty, I am emotionally drained right now, you take years off my gay little life, Stevie, I swear.”
“H- Hey!”
She cackles, an ugly braying donkey laugh that makes Steve warm with nostalgia. He joins in after a moment, his own burbling chuckles spilling out of his lungs. It’s nice, sitting with his mom and his sweetheart in the living room, just spending time together. The two of them chat quietly, Steve stroking Eds’ hair as he finally fills her in on what has happened in Hawkins since ‘83. A lot of what he tells Arlene upsets her, but she takes it all in and handles the shock well. She migrates over to the couch from the armchair somewhere in the middle of his retelling of the events at Starcourt, and holds his hand tightly as he talks, his voice shaking. By the end of the events of Spring Break and what he knows about the whole Russian rescue mission and the California crew’s cross country adventure, she’s holding him tightly. She solemnly promises to be more involved in his life from now on and he pretends not to notice the way her tears soak the shoulder of his shirt or the way she has to forcibly collect herself afterwards. 
Arlene transitions their discussion fluidly into an easy chat after she’s finished asking questions about the Upside Down and all the crazy shit tied to it, keeping the discussion mundane as she fills him in on some of the upcoming projects Ellsco has taken on. A lot of her work is confidential, but not all of it is as the Fortune 500 company has its fingers in lots of pies–she relishes in telling him about a few passion projects that haven’t required her to sign a thousand and one NDAs. She tells him how Gramma and Grampy are doing, how Grampy is enjoying his partial retirement now that she’s taken over. She also mentions reconnecting with his uncle Ben–Steve would swear his mom had a sister, not a brother, but he’s probably just remembering wrong–and how they’d met up on one of her business trips to Miami a few years ago by chance. It’s wonderful. Steve finds himself relaxing as they converse easily back and forth, sharing the parts of their lives they’ve missed over the past few years.
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Steve is alone in the living room again, Arlene having just gone into the kitchen to check on the bolognese a final time, enjoying the quiet as he cards his fingers through dark curls, lightly dragging his nails against the skin of Eddie’s scalp in the tranquil atmosphere. He feels the body laid across his lap begin to stir after a time and he casts his gaze down to the boy he’s been playing pillow for, a smile tugging at his lips.
“Mmn–” Eds grumbles, his voice heavy with sleep as his strong arms squeeze around Steve’s middle, “–S’vie?”
“Good morning, lazybones,” Steve murmurs in reply, chuckling. “You awake now?”
Eddie blinks open bleary hickory eyes, drowsy and clouded as he turns his gaze up at Steve; twisting from the prone position he’s adopted, splayed across Steve’s thighs. His jaw cracks in a wide yawn that exposes his sharp fangs and long tongue before he buries his face against Steve’s stomach again, humming happily.
“M’wake,” Eddie mumbles, “y’r warm…”
“I’m warm?” Steve snickers, tugging gently on a small handful of curls in his amusement. The action pulls a thick sound from Eds’ throat, yanking at a burning thread of desire deep in Steve’s core that he steadfastly ignores in favor of releasing his hold on Eddie’s hair. “I’m flattered, but you’ve been sleeping for a few hours now and dinner is going to be ready soon. Aren’t you hungry yet?”
The face Eddie makes in response is cute; all pouty and crinkled in his disapproval. He’s clearly not in favor of moving off of Steve. “I’m–”
The sudden rumbling of Eds’ stomach cuts him off, the sound well timed and harmonizing with the gurgling of Steve’s own stomach when it makes itself known moments later. Eddie jolts away from Steve’s body, the dramatic reaction pulling a laugh from Steve. The embarrassment that scrawls its way across Eds’ face is plain to see in the pink flush that colors his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, reaching even the tips of his pointed ears. It’s unbearably cute–he wants to nip at them.
“I… I guess I’m kinda hungry,” he admits, shyly looking away from Steve.
“Hm,” Steve drawls, smiling fondly at his sweetheart, “I mean, I’m pretty hungry too. Mom told me you helped her make the sauce, so I guess I’m pretty excited to see how it turned out. Especially since you had a hand in it.”
That pretty pink flush goes darker to Steve’s delight, and he eagerly watches as Eddie fidgets in place, absurdly pleased that he doesn’t try to move out of Steve’s space. He loves how close they are, all pressed together like this. He’s starved for touch, and Eds’ is his favorite of all. It always feels like a dream and sometimes he has to remind himself that no, it’s reality. He’s just this lucky. 
“Arlene did most of the wo- work,” Eddie mumbles, “I just th- threw stuff in the pot and st- stirred it sometimes.”
“That’s still helping, silly.” Steve chastises kindly, “It counts.”
Eds looks up at him with huge hickory eyes, sparkling and wide, gleaming with hope. “It… does?”
“Mmhm,” Steve nods, unable to contain his fondness–all the love he has for this boy. He can feel the way it colors his smile, the way it pulls at the edges of his eyes, the way his shoulders slope in Eds’ direction like he can’t bear to turn away from him. He thinks about what his mom said about him, how she doesn’t think he would lose Eddie if he confessed… how she thinks he could easily get away with upping the ante, so to speak. He chews the inside of his cheek, excited anxiety brewing in his gut at the thought of turning up the charm–of wooing the man he wants, the way he wants to.
There’s a lot that could go wrong if he did decide to really start turning on the charm with Eds. So far, he’s just tried to- to be nice… to be kind to him; to be a safe harbor when Eds feels anxious, and a place he knows he can come to rest his head when the world feels too big, too mean, or just too much. Nothing he’s done so far falls within the typical big displays of romance, but that’s okay because it’s the tiny acts of devotion that Steve loves best. He loves being able to do things for his partners, to show them how much he adores them, how often they cross his mind. He does things for them without a second thought because he wants to make their life easier, he wants to ease whatever burdens them if only for a short while–he wants to integrate himself into their life in any way he can, even if that means he’s only there in the capacity as a meat shield or a workhorse. If he can make himself useful, helpful, to them… that’s enough for him. 
He always wants to do more, of course. He wants to pamper, to take care of them, but he’s been accused more than once of being overbearing; of being needy–of being clingy. He smothers those urges as best he can, because he’s learned that it’s not what most people want from him. Does he hope that one day he’ll find someone who will indulge him in those urges? Yes, of course. But he’s aware it’s far fetched and selfish. But with Eddie it’s so hard… with Eddie, he’s greedy. He wants all of it–he wants to wash his hair, wants to cook his lunches, his dinners. He wants to hold him in his arms on the couch and watch bad TV until he falls asleep, and wants to make him feel safe when he wakes from nightmares of monochrome skies and unfriendly landscapes. He wants to take care of him, to help him regain his human appearance so he has a chance to return to society, a chance to be himself amongst other people again. He wants to see Eddie spread his metaphorical wings again, prance on the cafeteria tables of the world and take them all by storm–he’s a force of nature and to see such a beautiful creature caged and forced behind closed doors is a tragedy he refuses to see play out any longer than it has to. He will not clip those metaphorical wings, no matter how badly he wants Eddie to stay with him.
What’s the saying? If you love it, let it go?
He’ll just have to hope Eddie will want to return to him when his shackles are finally shattered.
Take a chance, hope that his mom is right. The risk is worth the reward, after all.
Steve smiles down at Eddie, finally releases the tenuous hold on his control. He feels it when his smile easily slides into a far more flirtatious territory than he’s previously allowed it to venture with Eds; a smile he’s only ever used on women he’s wanted to date before now. He gently grasps Eddie’s chin, the firm grip pulling a stuttering breath around fangs and from between plush, parted lips as Steve lifts his half-monster’s jaw to force their eyes to meet. He watches with a hungry gaze as hickory eyes widen, as he leans in closer until his nose just barely brushes against his sweetheart’s. He can feel the way Eds’ breath quickens; hot against his cheek, ghosting against his own mouth. It’s tantalizing, but he can be patient… it will be worth the wait. Steve knows how to play this back-and-forth game of seduction and desire, and he’s going to play it right with Eddie. He’s a clumsy flirt in front of other people and cheesy beyond belief, but sometimes he hits the correct notes and he thinks he’s got Eddie’s number right.
“It does count, sweetheart,” he rumbles out, his voice heavy and deep with desire. “Did you know,” he adds, conversationally, like their proximity isn’t boiling the blood in his veins with want, “that no one aside from my mom or my Gramma has ever cooked for me, before?”
“N- No- No one?” Eddie breathes out, his voice no louder than a whisper as he stumbles over his words. Steve relishes in the way his inhuman pupils have dilated, the way his breathing has gone ragged, heavy in the meager space between them. Steve licks his lips, immediately clocking the way Eddie’s gaze locks onto and tracks the path his tongue takes with something like wildness behind those dark, hickory eyes.
“No one,” he replies, his lips just barely brushing against Eddie’s cheek as he speaks. He can feel the way the skin of his neck tightens while Eddie swallows; hears the clicking sound his throat makes at the action. Steve feels alive in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s forgotten how fun it is to flirt when he really wants someone–when there isn’t an audience to make him embarrassed about the corny lines he tends to spew.
“You’re my first, Eds.”
He pulls away from Eddie after his statement, doing his best to hide how affected he is by the starstruck look on his half-monster’s face. Steve feels like he could fly because holy shit, mom was right? The way Eddie sits there, eyes wide and dark, breathing raggedly with the prettiest of blushes coloring his skin from the tips of his pointed ears all the way down his throat to where his collar bones disappear into the collar of that stolen sweater. The delicate color highlighting the planes of his skin is… it’s gorgeous, and Steve wants to sink his teeth into the curve of his neck, wants to bite and leave marks along the angles of his jaw. Eddie looks dazed, one clawed hand clutching at his chest, rising and falling rapidly beneath it as he stares at Steve with glossy, wet eyes like he’s seeing him anew; a deity made flesh, something to worship in reality. His lips are still parted, plush and glistening–begging to be kissed, and it takes all of his willpower to resist, but somehow, miraculously, he manages. Eddie looks like a dream, a temptation demanding to be ravished, and ohhh, how Steve wants.
Instead, he gets up off the couch.
He relishes in the keening whine that tears out of Eds’ throat as he steps away, putting more distance between them, allows himself to delight in the surge of pride that swirls in his gut as Eddie sways unbidden in his direction, instinctively trying to close the distance without realizing he’s even doing it. He can’t help the smug way his flirtatious smirk pulls up on one side at the way Eds’ hand flexes on nothing, desperate to touch that which Steve has taken away. Seeing all of it painted in technicolor before him is the greatest gift he could receive and he feels settled–assured that he’s making the right calls. Because, yeah. Yes, he’s absolutely going to take this leap of faith. 
Eddie is worth the fear, the unknown, the potential loss. He’s worth everything.
And so far, it’s looking like his mom was right in that he’s playing a winning game.
He’s got nothing to lose, but everything to gain.
“Well?” he says, raising an eyebrow at Eddie and making a “come hither” gesture with his index finger, “Are you gonna come with me, eat the dinner that you made? Or are you going to languish alone on the couch all night?”
Eddie shakes his head frantically, a squeaking sound tumbling from his mouth as he all but throws himself off the couch and stumbles to his feet. He’s all baby-deer legs and Bambi-eyes as he scrambles to get to Steve’s side; all flailing limbs and pinwheeling tail, desperately trying to counter balance his lurching weight. Steve starts walking backwards towards the door to the kitchen, never taking his eyes off his awkward sweetheart. He lets Eddie get close, lets him think he’s won, lets him think he’s caught Steve–but it’s a ruse and Steve swiftly slips out of reach. It’s a fun little game, and he enjoys the tiny noises of frustration that slip from Eds’ throat when Steve manages to just evade a grasping claw, keeping barely out of Eddie’s range as they slowly make their way towards the kitchen.
When his ankle catches on something on the ground Steve’s eyes widen, his heart lurching in his chest with momentary panic. He pauses, looking down to spot the stray blanket that somehow managed to make its way into the pathway to the kitchen. He jerks his gaze back to Eddie when he feels a strong, talon-tipped hand grip his shirt. The sudden impact throws him off balance, and with the way the blanket hooks around his ankle, he flings his arms out in an attempt to steady himself. He ends up digging his fingers into the meat of Eddie’s arms, but his body’s momentum seems to have caught them both off guard because the next thing he knows, he’s hitting the ground–although the ground feels softer than he remembers?
He blinks open eyes he doesn’t remember closing, staring down at the dazed, flushed face of his half-monster. Those huge eyes are hooded and dark, as his breath comes hot and panting. His talon-tipped hands clench where they rest against Steve’s sides, just above his hips, and one talon has slipped beneath Steve’s shirt, grazing the skin of his flank. 
Oh.
Steve flushes, because fuck Eddie looks delicious like this and how they got there is… he must have spun them mid fall to take the impact, since he’s so much larger than Steve is. Bigger and yet so… so submissive, so docile, so sweet.
Shit, that’s really hot… and also stupidly precious.
Eddie stares up at him, blinking hazy hickory eyes, and Steve finally realizes how close their faces are. His breath shudders in his lungs, because oh god, he wants to take Eddie apart, to hear him whine and cry and fall to pieces beneath him–
“Wow. Either you’re the fastest moving guy on the planet, or you’re just some sort of klutzy flirting savant, Bear.”
The sudden, amused comment delivered with such dry humor yanks a surprised yelp from Steve. He jolts upright as his most-hated blotchy blush spreads across his face and down his chest, and he glares at his mom where she leans with her arms crossed against the door frame to the kitchen. She looks smug, tapping the wooden spoon she holds in one hand absently against one arm, a “told-you-so” expression smeared across her face.
“Mom!” he barks, embarrassment oozing from every pore. He’s about to yell at her to go away, but he snaps his mouth shut when he clocks the quiet, pathetic mewling that’s coming from Eddie. The sound sends a rush of molten heat down his spine and Steve jerks his head downward, his gaze locking onto the boy he has pinned under him. His eyes widen at the absolute vision beneath him, greedily taking in the way Eddie’s chest is heaving, a furious flush coloring his cheeks and throat, his head tossed to the side. His hands have dropped from Steve’s hips to the carpet–one is clenched between his fangs in a meager attempt to muffle his noises. Only then does he finally notice the way his thigh is pressed hard against the zipper of Eddie’s jeans, and–
Ohhhh. He’s–
Fuck.
Steve swallows and slowly pulls his leg away, a muffled, gasping whine tumbling from around the finger in Eds’ teeth, between his parted lips, soft but not silent. Steve can see the way those denim-clad thighs tremble, the way the claws of his other hand sink into the carpet pile, skin across his knuckles taut and locked with tension. And… And Steve did that to him… just by—
—Jesus H. Christ, that’s so fucking hot I’m going to die and my mother is right there goddamnit—
“Mom… we’ll be there in a few, okay?”
“Okay,” she drawls, amusement in her tone, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Oh my– fucking, shoo, woman!”
Cackling, Arlene retreats into the kitchen. “Spaghetti’s almost done, better hurry up!”
“Okay, mom! Jesus!”
Steve sits back on his heels, giving Eddie some space to calm down as he drops his head into his hands, completely embarrassed at being caught in such a compromising position by his mother. He groans to himself, because goddamnit, everything had been going so well up until then, too! He hadn’t made a fool of himself yet, his flirting was going great! He’s a cheesy, corny dork, but it’d been working! Playful, fun… and then he’d had to go and trip over a fucking blanket like a dumbass–
“Steve..?”
He jolts upright, staring at Eddie with wide eyes. “You okay?” he immediately asks, chewing his lower lip. He’s honestly more concerned about whether or not he crossed a line with the whole… knee-to-dick-accidental-frottage than anything else.
Eddie blinks at him, clearly stunned, before a shy smile spreads across his face along with the darkening of his delicately-pink blush. He tugs a chunk of his curls in front of his mouth, averting his gaze as he pulls his shoulders up. “I- I’m okay. A- Are you hurt?”
“No, no, Eds! Not at all, thanks to you catching me like that…”
Eddie preens a little, shifting in place as his flush darkens further, “Couldn’t let you get hurt…”
“Well, I don’t want you to get hurt, either. Okay?”
Eddie nods, “M’okay. Promise.”
“Good.” Steve nods back decisively before chuckling. “Well, now that we’ve both embarrassed ourselves in front of my mother, ready to go get bullied by her while we eat delicious food?”
Eddie’s grin is wide, exposing all his fangs in all their glory as he nods. “Yes!”
Steve stands up and extends a hand down to Eds with a smile. “Well, then what are we waiting for?”
Eddie takes his hand, his grin softening as he looks up at Steve with a tender affection that makes the little flame behind Steve’s ribs grow just a little bit more.
Yeah…
Steve thinks to himself later, his heart full to bursting as he watches his mom and the man he hopes to build something with interact like they’re already family.
…the risk will definitely be worth the reward.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. 
I’d be a fool not to try.
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GO STEVIE!!! YOU GO GET YO MANS!!!!
hello everyone i am deceased, my ghost is writing this.
fucking hELL these past checks calendar NINE days have been actual literal nightmare fuel jesus h christ on a fucking unicycle i would like to sleep for a thousand years now please and thank you.
anyway! this ended up being uhhhhh. longer than i predicted. but hopefully that makes up for the wait. we're gonna get into some more meat of this bad boy in the next installment i think, but we'll see if it doesn't run away from me hahaha
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the support banners (and the content warning banners) are from here! they're beautiful, aren’t they? So in love with them. cafekitsune has made some gorgeous stuff. please check them out if you're a creator!
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I also have a list of folks who didn’t ask specifically to be tagged for future installments, but have been extremely enthusiastic about the story from the beginning based on their reblogs and/or replies to the posts. So if you’re on that list, unless you tell me otherwise, I'll continue putting your name in the replies. You can also follow the story tag, which is #Take Me Home steddie fic where you might find my posted sneak peeks or wip updates in between the actual parts, or you can even just follow me, @hobbyistauthor for all my nonsense!
If you don’t want to be tagged or want to be taken off the tag list for any reason, just let me know either in the replies or via DM. I don't bite much.
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nburkhardt · 2 days
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Kiss It Better
The instructions for these new drawers is bullshit. There’s no words, there’s only pictures. Which, okay, is fine and he’ll be the first to admit it.
Eddie loves reading, unless it’s building furniture. Pictures are the way to go.
Just, not this piece of furniture.
Because now? Right now, he’s been staring at the picture and the actual piece for fifteen minutes trying to figure out how the hell this is supposed to go.
“How is this supposed to,” he mumbles to himself, holding the metal…whatever it is and pulling it apart before looking back at the paper. “Some words would be helpful”
Looking over the paper, it shows the metal piece on the inside to pull the drawer out. Shrugging, he sets it and grabs the screw driver and screw. Deciding to just go off the image and hope for the best.
He’s been at this so far two hours now, which, sucks. But it’s fine, he had nothing else planned and Steve is busy going through boxes in the garage with Robin.
“Maybe I should,” he turns the screw and looks over at the paper again, as he looks closer, thinking that’s going to help… his finger goes up and he freezes.
Pain stings through his middle finger and he pulls his hand up and without saying a word immediately walks to Steve and Robin.
“Uh, Stevie, can you- grab a bandaid? I kinda sliced my finger”
Both turn at him, and all he can do is hold up his hands and watch as their eyes go wide. Steve moves first, “what did you do? You’re dripping, what- come on, honey”
“Uh, sliced my finger.”
Steve grabs his arm and pulls him along towards the bathroom, “I can see that, how did you slice your finger? Why didn’t you clean it?”
He shrugs, “I kinda just came to you, and uh, there’s this metal piece for the drawers and the instructions doesn’t have words. This next part is a little hard.”
“I’ll finish it, this cut is pretty deep, Eds.”
Steve finishes putting the bandaid on as neatly as possible on a finger, then he pulls it up to his lips and places a light kiss against it. “There, it’ll heal up in no time now”
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What do you mean this is semi-based on true events. Whaaaaat no, that can’t be true. I definitely did not slice my middle finger while trying to build a set of drawers yesterday. No you are wrong, definitely. Totally. Yep. Yep. Yep.
Totally wrong 🫣
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OKAY SO MAYBE I DID! But here’s the thing, I wasn’t expecting it. And so now I have a sliced middle finger. It didn’t register in my head until a full shock went through me and I just… walked out of my room and had to have my friend grab me a bandaid. It was not a fun time. And it sucks because I had to buy finger condoms just so I can keep the bandaid dry ):
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puppy-steve · 3 days
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a whole lifetime
steddie | E | 1.6k | ao3 link
written for @steddieas-shegoes's birthday! happy birthday, mick! 💙🫂 i hope you enjoy this filth sprinkled amongst all the fluff <3
important tags: rockstar eddie, older steddie, married steddie, birthday sex (full taglist on ao3)
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If there was ever a time for Eddie to hate being famous, it was now. Four and a half thousand miles away from home—from his family, from his friends, from his husband—on a tour he’s been against from the moment their label announced it.
And it’s his birthday, for Christ’s sake.
Don’t get him wrong, Barcelona is beautiful and the fans have been great, but between three nights of sold out shows with soundchecks and interviews and one meet and greet thrown in, Eddie is ready to catch the first flight back to Indiana so he can sleep in his own bed.
Performing in front of a crowd of two thousand on his birthday used to give him an adrenaline rush so high, he would still be riding the waves of it the next day. He finds himself longing for the birthdays he spent before the band became famous. The most memorable was the first birthday after Wayne was officially granted custody of him; sitting at the shitty little card table in the trailer kitchen with a slice of Wayne’s infamous blackberry cobbler in front of him, because he knew Eddie didn’t like how dry regular cake was.
Eddie sighs, can feel the exhaustion settle deep in his bones as he slips the keycard into the lock on his hotel room door.
He’s only forty-three, but retirement is starting to sound pretty damn nice.
He kicks off his shoes by the door and lets his leather jacket drop onto the entryway table. Eddie scoffs, he still hasn’t gotten used to staying in five star hotels like this, where the rooms are like houses. The master suite is separate from the common area, and there’s a kitchenette off from that. He pulls a glass down from the fully stocked cabinet and fills it with water, gulping it down with a grateful moan as the cold water soothes his overworked vocal chords.
“Happy birthday, handsome.”
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wynnyfryd · 2 hours
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Trailer park Steve AU part 59
part 1 | part 58 | ao3
cw: canon-typical horror/gore (like for real this time), emetophobia, reference to minor character death. ty to @thisapplepielife for indulging my weirdly specific research about headstones
Steve tries to follow her — gets shot down before he even gets within speaking range, Max shouting at him to give her a minute the second she spots him coming over the hill. He backs off, hands raised in surrender, and then…
Well, then he’s already out of the car.
Well then his feet know where to take him.
His dad’s grave isn’t far. Maybe a football field away, close enough that he’ll be able to hear it if Max calls for help. He moves toward it without thought, his legs carrying him past simple overgrown markers in the oldest part of the park — crumbling remnants of civil war soldiers, farmers and shopkeepers and factory workers, people who worked the mines, people who died before his grandfather was born. People who might have been loved once, before time and moss and water stripped their names off of the stones.
Up the next slope, the markers get more elaborate, shift from bronze to granite to marble, to monuments and mausoleums and a fucking obelisk; ostentatious displays of the town’s oldest money. The coal barons, the oil tycoons. Rotten bastards, Wayne might say.
The Harringtons aren't that rich. They're further down the hill in a neatly manicured row of Indiana limestone; fresh flowers on each grave, the weeds plucked, the grass trimmed.
Dad's buried right next to Grandpa Otis.
It almost looks nice.
Crisp, clean, dry. Nothing to suggest the messy wet red of his father's demise. Steve shoves his hands in his front pockets and steps up of his dad's plot, toes the edge of it, the rounded lump of earth, sparse grass and loose soil where his father's bones are laid. The ground gives a little under his weight, the dirt compacting. Could he dig this up with just his hands? Could he claw through until he reached the bottom, pry open the box and peer inside? Unbidden, the image forms in his mind: worm food and rot, half a man left inside, somehow still frowning in disappointment with his jaw bone shining clean.
Steve's stomach turns. A sick shiver runs through him, saliva flooding his mouth, sweat beading at his hair line.
This isn't right.
Something's not right.
There's a sudden chill in the air, frigid wind carrying a smell like roadkill in the summer — heat wafting from the pavement, death clogging up his throat. Steve covers his nose and wills his shoulders down from his ears; tries to mutter words of comfort to himself under his breath. “Just a graveyard, Steve. Just a totally… normal…”
Ice on the back of his neck. Steve tenses every muscle, turns his good ear toward the sound of whatever's creeping up on him; something taller than him, something slithering and wet, its rasping rattles of frozen breath sending goosebumps down Steve's arms. His hands twitch inside his pockets.
Then, a voice — a voice that isn’t his, that can’t be anyone’s, because the man it belonged to is dead. “That Munson boy was right about you."
Steve can't fucking breathe. Dark clouds roll in around him, violent as a blooming bruise, and that voice behind him echoes — distorted, vicious; hungry.
"You are a black hole."
Steve grabs two fistfuls of his own hair and tugs; wills the pain to dispel the nightmare, his eyes swimming from the sting.
The thing behind him laughs. "Look how you ruined your mother," it snarls. "Look how you tore her apart.”
"Shut up!" Steve barks with his hands over his ears.
“Steve…” The voice deepens, beckons, thick with malice and rot. Steve slowly turns to face it, trembling all over, pulse thudding in his ears, and his shoes squelch in the dirt, and when he looks down he sees that the dirt has turned to mud that now turns to oozing red, a viscous river beneath his feet, flowing up over his ankles, pouring from his father's grave. And there, in front of him, a mangled remnant stands. The ruined corpse of Richard Harrington, his skin shriveled and gray, the torn parts of him held together by his clothes. There��s a hole in his torso where the exposed ribs glint like knives.
Steve throws up on himself.
The ground gives way beneath him, goes spongy like rotting meat, and the thing wearing his dad's face cackles as Steve sinks into the earth, the grave swallowing him whole, up to his calves, his knees, his thighs. "Join me," it offers, lipless smile full of teeth.
The glamor peels back to reveal a monster underneath, its scarred skin crawling in mucus-coated vines; naked, long-limbed, stitched together with burnt flesh.
Steve screams as he scrambles for purchase, up to his hips now in the muck, his feet on the lid of his dad's casket. He claws blindly at the loose ground but it’s all thick and wet with red, and the air itself is red; blood in the sky, in his eyes, in his lungs. He's going to die here. The voice tells him so. It's in his head now, a bellowing echo as the monster draws near, one hideous hand outstretched, an all-consuming join me, join me, JOIN ME—
“HEY!!!”
Max shouts directly in his face, shaking him hard by both shoulders where they're crouched on the cool ground, Kate Bush leaking from the headphones slung around her neck. Steve gives a startled shout and jerks back out of her grip, falling hard on his ass, landing harder on his elbows.
The world shifts back to blue. To dry, clean grass. To breathable air.
Steve pants up at the sky. His shirt clings to him where he's soaked it through with sweat. When Max offers him a hand, he stands on shaky legs, looks at the ground beneath his feet and screams again, scurrying back until his ass hits a stranger's headstone.
There’s a dent in the earth where he was standing. A smudge of packed dirt where he really did sink in. Steve stares at it; feels it reaching out for him, the dark patch thudding like a heart beat, spreading out like snaking vines.
He clutches at his heaving chest. Max’s eyes are huge on him.
"Okay, what the fuck?" she begs.
"What the fuck yourself!"
No heat behind the words, but they burn him, anyway, pushed out on a weak gasp. Is this what she was talking about? Is this what she calls nothing?
This doesn't feel like fucking nothing.
“Shit," she says, and her eyes go even wider. Steve can see the veins in them. "Shit, Steve, your nose…”
He swipes his arm across his face.
It comes back red.
tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)
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mrsjellymunson · 3 days
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‘It’s My Birthday!’
Written for the @steddiemicrofic bonus challenge ‘birthday’, to celebrate @steddieas-shegoes’s special day! Happy Birthday Mickala! I hope you get all the cake you want! 😘😘😘😘
Rating: M | WC: 290 | CW: drinking, yearning, overt flirting | Tags: getting together
Written as an homage to a previous prompt, and because I can never get enough of ‘getting together’ fics.
🎂
Someone once told Eddie, after he asked for more cake, “It’s your birthday, you can have whatever you want!”
Now it’s Munson Doctrine, and he’s made damn sure everyone knows.
The Party approach this date with trepidation, knowing Eddie’s antics will elevate past 11, and he’ll demand ridiculous and outrageous behaviour from his friends. But after their narrow (in Eddie’s case, miraculous) escape from the Upside Down horrors, they cut him some slack, and usually enjoy whatever frivolities the day presents.
Today, they’ve played paintball (“I want my friends to look like art!”), overeaten ice cream in horrendous flavour combinations (“I want everyone to have a tummy ache!”), and narrowly prevented Eddie from egging Hopper’s patrol car (“But it’s my birthday! I can have whatever I want, and what I want is a criminal record!”)
Steve knows what he’d like to give Eddie, but it’s definitely not something that could be… unwrapped in front of everyone. But he’s always been way too chickenshit to make a move.
So when Eddie decides that he wants tequila, Steve joins in, hoping the vile burn and foggy head might dull his yearning.
After the kids have gone and the others are packing up, a drunken Eddie saunters over to Steve.
Standing in front of him, their chests almost touching, he suddenly flings his arms around Steve’s waist, slapping his hands roughly onto his ass and grabbing handfuls of Steve’s buttocks.
“It is my birthday, you know…”
Steve panics. His face says I’m so casual about this, but his eyes are screaming What the fuck is going on?
“Yeah , Munson, I know. What- uh, what do you want?”
Pursing his lips, Eddie’s eyes flash and he squeezes, hard, as he replies,
“More CAKE!”
🎂
Thanks so much for reading!
My masterlist
Tags: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @curlyjoequinn just a short fic this time!
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ablogcalledrevenge · 3 days
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Breakfast Surprise
@steddiemicrofic prompt: birthday // WC: 529 // Rated G
For the amazing @steddieas-shegoes! Happy Birthday! This is only my second fic in the fandom but the prompt inspired me and I was bored at work, so here you go! I hope you like it!
He wakes up to the sound of Britney Spears, which all things considered, is not how he wants to wake up on his birthday. But then again, there was a time when Eddie didn’t think he’d reach his 21st birthday, let alone his 33rd. So he can deal with the Princess of Pop.
But that does raise the question; who is playing music this morning? The obvious answer is Steve, because duh, who else? But since it is Eddie’s birthday and since Steve did say he had a surprise, Eddie is inclined to act like a detective and give in to the silliness. He gets up out of bed, his hip twinging a little like it does on colder mornings, and makes his way towards the kitchen. The sound of Britney gets a little louder, as does the sound of talking and laughing. The visual he gets when he finally reaches the doorway of the kitchen makes him wish for a camera.
Steve is pouring pancake batter onto the griddle, glasses on and yellow pajama pants low on his hips. Livy is standing on a stepstool, dropping chocolate chips onto each pancake, her small hands dropping each one with intense concentration. She’s got her Cookie Monster nightgown on, the little ruffles swaying as she dances to the song playing. The morning sun is coming in through the window, bringing out the blonde in their hair, and the rays of light draw Eddie’s eyes towards an empty coffee mug on the table, with Robin’s usual lipstick stain. While he’d love her to be here too, Eddie knows she had to go in early for work.
Steve and Livy still haven’t noticed him, content to sing slightly off key and flip pancakes. He’s about to say something, maybe ask where-
“You’re supposed to be in bed.” A little voice pipes up behind him, causing Eddie to jump.
“Holy shi-sh-shhh! You scared me.” He flounders, looking down at Ellie who looks far too exasperated for her tender age of 4. It’s frankly adorable and the way Eddie’s heart expands at the sight of her scrunched up face honestly makes him worry a little. His heart’s been through a lot, could it handle the stress? Ellie reaches for his hand and pulls him fully into the kitchen.
“Daddy spoiled his surprise. He got out of bed.” She announces to the room. Livy jumps down from her stool and runs towards Eddie, extending her arms up. He gladly grabs her and spins them around, peppering her face with kisses.
“I couldn’t help it! I smelled breakfast cooking and knew I had to investigate!” He laughs as Steve sets the table with breakfast. Ellie pulls out a chair, standing on the seat to raise herself higher. Steve picks her up to make it even. The girls are very concerned with things being even right now, so both men would rather go along with it than cause a fight.
“Happy Birthday Eddie.” Steve says quietly, leaning over to give him a soft kiss. The girls in turn each kiss Eddie’s cheeks and Eddie can’t think of a better breakfast, a better morning, a better birthday.
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berenwrites · 3 days
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Best Present Ever - Stranger Things - Steddie - G
A/N: Haven’t had a chance to write for the main prompt this month, but couldn’t miss out on the bonus prompt since it’s a special occasion. Happy Birthday to @steddieas-shegoes. Don’t forget to check out all the other great fics at @steddiemicrofic too💖.
Written for bonus prompt: BIRTHDAY | wc: 290 | G | cw: none
Vecna was dead. Hawkins was no longer split open. It was time to celebrate.
The kids missed so much while they fought for their town. Everyone missed a lot, but Steve couldn’t help thinking it was hardest on the kids. That’s why he organised the party. Taking a lead from Alice in Wonderland, one of the few books he remembered his mom reading to him as a kid, it was an un-birthday party, to make up for all the birthdays that had gone by the wayside while defeating the Upside Down.
There were banners and balloons all over his house, plus a huge cake. There were even presents, one for everyone, including those older than fifteen.
Everyone except Eddie and Robin had thought it was simply a pool party. The expressions on their faces as they had arrived and seen the banners had been worth the hassle of keeping it secret.
It was late now, everyone happy tired and full. Steve was lying on one of the loungers by the pool with Eddie curled into his side.
“You did good, Stevie,” Eddie said as they watched El and Erica as the last holdouts in the water.
“We did good,” he replied, smiling down at his boyfriend. “Couldn’t have done it without you and Robin.”
“Your idea,” Eddie insisted. “And you didn’t tell us about the presents. Would have got you one.”
“Wanted that to be a surprise,” he admitted, “and this,” he indicated everyone lounging around outside or inside the house, “is the best present.”
That they were all alive and mostly whole was the only gift he needed. His family were safe. His family were here. His family were happy. That was more than he could ever ask for.
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sparklyslug · 2 days
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wager all the hazards of love • @strangerthingsreversebigbang
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Read on ao3 here
Words: 15,500 Archive Warnings: none apply Rating: Mature Pairing(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunninham, Beemer the Dog, Vecna Tags: Tam Lin inspired AU, folklore AU, fae AU
“I’ve been bringing my flock over these hills for years,” Steve offers. “It’s nice, this close to Hallow’s Eve, around here. The apples,” he gestures towards the stranger with one of them, and takes a big bite. “The leaves changing color,” he says, spitting bits of apple inelegantly into the fire. They pop and sizzle when they hit the flames, briefly filling the air with a spiced, earthy smell. 
“This close?” The stranger looks at him, eyebrows raised. He’s got such an expressive face, Steve almost wants to seize him by the cheeks and see how he can stretch it, press it, what shapes it might make in his hands. “How close?”
“To Hallow’s Eve?” Steve loses track of days out here, so he has to retrace the last few sunsets, how many of them have passed since he last waved goodbye to Robin as he brought out the flock. “I don’t know… a week? Little less?”
“That soon,” the man says quietly. Stares into the fire, expressive face gone still. “Almost out of time.”
Art here by @hereforanepilogue Fic here by @sparklyslug Beta Reader: @greenlikethesea For @strangerthingsreversebigbang
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Yo, can anyone help me find a Steddie fic?
I can't recall the title or author, but here's what I got:
Eddie finds Steve and Robin in the Starcourt Mall when they're high on whatever the Russians gave them. He ends up looking after Steve at his house, thinking they've been roofied, and he ends up staying with Steve and looking after him for a while.
Eddie thinks Steve is traumatised from a bad ex boyfriend, is a key point.
Also, I think there's elements of Sub-Steve a bit later in, and it's highlighted in the fic that Eddie walks Steve through subspace with bucket loads of consent talks bc, again, he thinks Steve had bad experiences with an ex bf.
I'm pretty sure the fic was on AO3 btw.
Aight yeah that's all I got, let's see if anyone knows what I'm talking bout xD
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finntheehumaneater · 2 days
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I owe you a black eye and two kisses (pt 17)
Part one | pinboard | ao3 | no playlist link while i move it to Spotify
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated because I’m a sad girly and an attention whore 🩵
(Notes and a little explication under the cut, because I don’t have to give one but I want to)
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“Stevie,” Eddie whispered, nudging him to sit up. He had fallen asleep on the couch, red lines on his face from where it was pushed against his shirt sleeve. His arm was numb.
“Hm?” His eyes took a moment to adjust to the dying light, everything yellow and hazy from the beams through the window, reflecting darker shapes on Eddie’s face from the old white lace curtains. The screen door was open, and the air was comfortably cool. It felt nice—so different from his stuffy house where it was always too-warm.
Eddie’s voice was quiet and rough, his nose nudging against Steve’s and his breath ghosting over Steve’s  lips. “Come outside with me,” he said softly, his hand slipping under Steve’s shirt to trace along his stomach. His fingers were cold.
The house was unusually quiet, and Steve looked around, squinting. “Where did…everyone else go?”
“They’re at Briar’s,” Eddie said simply, tugging Steve up impatiently and giving no further explanation. Steve didn’t know how Birar was. “He just got back from his mom’s—Wayne hasn’t seen him in a while, so they went over. Thought you could use the sleep, too, he said.”
Steve froze, and Eddie must have known what he was thinking, because he just tugged him towards the door and smiled softly. “It’s okay. He was just worried about you. He worries about everyone, sweetheart.”
Steve nodded, letting Eddie pull him onto the grass, his socks cold. He should have grabbed shoes. Eddie plopped down onto the bench, taking out a cigarette from god knows where, Steve wasn’t paying attention. 
He climbed up next to Eddie, his hands clasped as he looked down. It felt kind of clammy outside, even though his arms were cold. 
“So,” Eddie whispered, and Steve’s head snapped up. Eddie was smiling, flicking his lighter on and then twisting it so the cap flipped back, putting it out. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Steve whispered back, laughing slightly. This was kind of awkward. “What’s up?”
“Sorry I woke you up for this,” Eddie muttered, sighing, and handing Steve the lighter and the cigarette. He took it, placing it down next to him. “I just—I want to talk, you know? Not—not bad talking, just…talking.”
Steve nodded, about to maybe protest and say that he wanted to go back to bed—maybe in Eddie’s actually bed this time—and before he could get into his head about how that was a bad thing to say, Eddie cut him off.
“And—“ He started, bumping his shoulder against Steve’s. “To give you…a present. Well, more like…give you back something you gave me, and maybe I shouldn’t even be giving it back because you didn’t really give it to me in the best of situations, but—“
“Eddie?” Steve whispered.
“Hm?”
“I got it the first time.”
Eddie’s cheeks flushed and he nodded. “Right, right. I, uh—left the stuff inside, so I’ll…yeah, I’ll go get them,” he stood up, pulling Steve in for a kiss before he hopped off the table and practically sprinted the few feet back to the trailer door.
Steve rolled his eyes, smiling and lighting the cigarette next to him. He didn’t know what Eddie was going to give him, but he’d pretend to like it either way. It’s how he always was with gifts—a bunch of rich relatives he had never met sending him sports equipment that was too small, even though he didn’t play anymore. It wasn’t like he told his parents he had quit—and it meant he could donate the stuff to the highschool for the kids to use, but he still had to make thank you cards. 
When Eddie came back, it was with closed palms and an even more nervous expression. He slid back next to Steve, turning on the top of the table so that his legs were crossed beside him. “When I, uh…when I look at these, I just…keep thinking about the night you gave them to me. How it wasn’t under the best of circumstances. And I want you to have them back,” he whispered, shoving the porcelain bird and the ring into Steve’s palm. “Not because I don’t like them, but—but because they’re yours. It doesn’t feel right for me to keep them from you.”
Steve hated that he was quiet, his face unchanging. He should have smiled, said thank you, made some excuse to go back inside and then cried in the bathroom for a while until he felt too tired to move. It’s what he should have done, but he didn’t do it.
Instead, he grabbed Eddie’s wrist, slipping the ring onto his middle finger. “I got this for you. I didn’t know I got it for you when I did, but it was pretty. Sorry it’s not like your other rings.” 
He saw the way Eddie’s face completely crumpled, not exactly in sadness but slightly, his eyes watering when he looked back up. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Steve whispered, shrugging and pulling his knees to his chest. “Oh.”
“Could I—“ Eddie cut himself off, his arms sliding around Steve’s waist, his chest against Steve’s shoulder. “I need to ask you something, okay?” His voice was soft—too soft than Steve deserved, but he listened anyways, his fingers slipping under Eddie’s shirt to feel at the scar on his stomach, the porcelain bird cold and heavy in his other hand.
“I don’t know what happened at Starcourt, but…you know you’re safe here, right?” Eddie whispered, his lips pressed against the side of Steve’s head, his hands gripping at his waist, the gold posy ring more cool than his others since it must have been near the fan inside. Maybe that was why the bird was cold, too. Steve nodded, because that’s what Eddie wanted to hear. He felt relieved when he could feel Eddie’s shoulder shrink in, deflating. “Okay. And…and you know I love you, right?”
Steve nodded again, pressing his face into Eddie’s neck like he was trying to hide, didn’t like how this conversation was going, there was going to be a ‘but’ wasn’t there, maybe he had done something wrong—
“And that I want you to be happy? And—and to be able to do what you want?” Eddie murmured, his voice unbelievably soft as he gently tugged Steve back by his shoulders to look at him. Steve hated how his eyes watered. He shook his head.
“You don’t think I want you to be happy?” Eddie asked, sounded confused—hurt—and Steve wanted to curl up and die somewhere far away. Maybe move in with Robin, if her parents would let him.
“No, no,” Steve said, shaking his head in a slow, stupid way, his mind spinning. All of him felt too heavy, like he was going to fall over. “I know, but you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t worry about that.”
Eddie sighed, seeming too notice how Steve was shutting down again, and Steve didn’t like that he was doing it either—dismissing everything and trying not to make this a big deal—but he couldn’t help it.
“Is there anything you want to ask me, baby?” Eddie prompted gently, seeming to give up on his original motive, gently poking Steve in the side.
“Your scar,” Steve whispered, setting the bird down on the table. “Where did you get it?”
Eddie sighed, looking down as Steve gently pushed the hem of his shirt up to show the thin, raised lightly line, running his fingers along it and pressing a bit harder when Eddie shivered. “It’s not a very happy story.”
“Oh, sorry,” Steve muttered, moving his hand and going to sit back up, but Eddie’s arms wrapped around him more tightly, sucking in a shaky breath and shaking his head.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Eddie said, shrugging. “It was uh…the first time I started selling there was this guy,” Eddie trailed off, shrugging again, and Steve’s hands went up to his shoulders, smoking back to look at him again. “And he didn’t like the prices so he…got kind of physical.”
“Did it hurt?” Steve asked, before he could think better of it. 
“Uh, a little. I kind of passed out, though, and then Marge came by and saw me and thought I was dead,” he said, rolling his eyes. “And she put me in the trunk of her car and brought me to Wayne. Thank god the cops didn’t pull her over or Sunny wouldn’t have a house.”
“Sunny lives with Marge?” Steve sat up, looking in the direction of Briar’s trailer as the door opened.
Eddie followed his gaze. “Oh, uh…yeah, she does. There’s an upstairs in the shop, that’s where they stay. Let’s get you back inside before it gets loud again, okay?”
Steve nodded, letting Eddie pull him up and guide him back to the door, hearing sunny yell something in her wobbly voice to Wayne, who laughed and must have signed back because Steve didn’t hear him respond.
Eddie took Steve over to his bedroom, throwing his clothes from last night onto the ground near the closet and gently pushing Steve onto the bed, practically manhandling him to lay down until he could curl around him, his face tucked into Steve’s neck.
“You’re gonna be okay,” He whispered, and Steve wished Eddie knew how much that meant to him. “M’gonna keep you.”
Steve bit back a sob, nodding as he twisted around in Eddie’s arms to face him, his cheeks pink. “Are you sure I shouldn’t go out and say hi to everyone? I don’t want to be rude and hide in here.”
“No, baby, it’s okay,” Eddie whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “It’s okay.”
“Eddie.”
“It’s okay,” Eddie whispered, a bit more firm this time, but still soft as he fingers pressed a bit harder at Steve’s waist.
Steve sighed, closing his eyes. “You’re—you’re gonna keep me?”
Eddie hummed, pressing a kiss to Steve’s collarbone. “Mhm. If you want me to.”
Steve pushed his face harder into the pillow, nodding. He couldn’t wait to fall back alseep before he fucked this up. The only nice thing he had left besides his kids and Robin. “Okay.”
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Hallo guys. I know it’s been a long time since I did an update, but while I was writing this I kind of wasn’t in the best headspace, and having to do extra stuff like update chapters got to be too much for me at the time, so I took a break from this and wrote some little things. After I was feeling better, I had to do some stuff for my big bang fic and what not, so I didn’t really have the time. I don’t know how much more of this fic there’s going to be, but the taglist is still open, and I will be updating again, just….sometime in the future. Probably not another two months away though haha.
I don’t know what made me super sad and depressed. Or like—I do but I won’t admit it to myself because it’s so stupid. But I’m working on feeling better and doing things I enjoy and taking breaks when I need them, which is good. I’m still sad, but not as sad anymore :)
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