#original Harrington children

[steddieworks]

finally safe for me to fall - chapter 11

hi!! sorry this is so late in the day, but i've had kind of an insane weekend!

some news about fsfmtf: I've decided to go to a bi-weekly posting schedule, as the weekly one was a bit too much for me to keep up with. I'm going to try to update this fic every other Sunday from now on, but forgive me if I get off track!

Also, I just wanted to let you guys know that we're about halfway through the fic now!! can't wait for you to see what i have in store for the next couple of chapters ;)

Enjoy!

read on ao3

Summary: Steve and Eddie spend some quality time after they put the twins to bed.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, non-graphic descriptions/references to scenes in horror films

Words: 8.3k

The girls sleep nearly the entire way back home from the baby shower. Eddie keeps glancing back at them, a little worried that they won’t sleep tonight if they sleep too much now, but Steve doesn’t seem to be concerned about this. He hums softly as he drives, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the center console, his fingers still intertwined with Eddie’s. If he wasn’t so tired and concerned about the girls, Eddie would probably be panicking a little at the new, yet already familiar, touch.

“Should we stop and grab dinner from somewhere on the way home?” Steve asks as they drive.

Eddie turns to glance at him, giving him a little shrug and smile. “That’s up to you. I can cook when we get back, if you want.”

Steve glances at him, but shakes his head. His lips are twitching when he turns his eyes back to the road. “No, I think I want us to just have an easy night. We could order pizza and watch a movie?”

“That sounds perfect,” Eddie says with a smile. He squeezes Steve’s hand, gently rubbing over the back of it with just the tips of his fingers. He marvels at the softness of his skin, the way his fingers flex as he turns their hands this way and that.

“This is okay, right?” Steve asks softly, gesturing at Eddie’s hands when he looks at him.

Eddie smiles. “More than okay,” he reassures easily. “I… it’s kind of stupid, but being an omega, I really crave physical touch sometimes… so this is really nice,” he mumbles, feeling a bit awkward after admitting to that.

Steve hums. “Well, anytime you need that… just tell me, okay?” He glances away from the road briefly, sending Eddie a searching look. “It’s kind of like scenting each other, yeah? That’s beneficial for both of us, but I need you to tell me when that’s not enough, okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie nods. He nods, but he wants to say, “it’s never enough. It’ll never be enough, it’ll just be scraps of you - scraps of what I really want.”

He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he begins humming a song, realizing belatedly that it’s the same one that Steve was just humming a few moments before, something he’s fairly sure is by ABBA. Luckily, Steve doesn’t tease him for this. Instead, he just smiles to himself, joining in on the humming with ease.

When they get home, there’s a silent agreement that each of them will wake up one of the girls and help her upstairs, so between the two of them, they manage to get both of them out of the car and to the lobby.

“I’m sleepy,” Ivy whines into Steve’s neck as they wait for the elevator.

“I know, honey,” he murmurs back to her. “But we’ve got to eat dinner before we go to bed, okay?”

Ivy whines again, this time Jasmine joining her, so Eddie is quick to intervene. “Hey, how would you two like to pick out the movie we watch?”

Jasmine lifts her head from his shoulder a bit, looking at him critically. “And we can pick any kind of movie?”

Eddie hesitates, glancing at Steve as they step into the elevator. He’s a little suspicious of her tone, but Steve shrugs and nods, so Eddie replies, “I guess.”

“Even a scary movie?” Ivy asks, her voice full of glee.

“Um…” Eddie starts, glancing over at Steve, suddenly much more uncertain.

Steve shrugs again, but waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll see what sort of options we’ve got for scary movies and then decide,” he says, very diplomatic.

The girls don’t seem to love this answer, but they don’t complain, just giving a mild agreement.

Eddie’s relieved when they finally make it inside. It’s not like they had a particularly bad day or anything, but he’s definitely a little exhausted from all the excitement. There’s also a tingling under his skin, some energy that he hasn’t been able to get out. He almost wishes he was the type of person who actually enjoyed exercise, because he thinks that a good run might just be the very thing he needs to settle the buzzing in his bones.

“Alright, how about you guys go get some pajamas on while me and Eddie order some pizza and find a movie to watch, does that sound alright?” Steve suggests, placing Ivy on the ground so she can do just that.

“Will it be something really scary?” Jasmine asks, sounding just a bit nervous.

“It won’t be too scary, hon,” Steve says, sending her a wink. “And if you get really scared, we’ll change it to something else.”

Jasmine nods, turning to go to her room to change into her pajamas, while Ivy lingers behind for a moment. She waits until her sister is out of sight, then turns to her dad and shrugs. “I think we should watch something really super duper scary.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve asks, quirking an eyebrow at that. When Ivy nods, Steve gives her a little shrug. “Well… we’ll see what I can do about that.”

Eddie knows, realistically, that neither one of them would be able to handle something really scary, and he’s pretty sure Steve also knows this, but Eddie is definitely dubious about what movie he has in mind. Purely for the sake of the twins, of course. Not because he himself is a little nervous about watching something scary. Definitely not because of that.

Well. Maybe a little because of that.

“Pizza?” Steve asks Eddie when both of the girls have left the room.

Eddie nods, smiling at him as he tugs awkwardly at his shirt sleeves. He’s not sure why he feels so out of place all of a sudden, but he does. It’s almost like being on a first date, except obviously that’s not at all what’s happening. He’s known Steve for weeks, and has lived with him basically the whole time he’s known him. There is no reason to feel this weird all of a sudden, but with Steve’s eyes on him, he feels seen in a way that he’s not sure he’ll ever be fully used to.

“I’m gonna…” Eddie says, though he has no idea where that sentence is going. Steve pauses where he was dialing the phone, glancing at him curiously. Eddie blinks. God, he’s being so fucking stupid. “Pajamas.”

And now he can’t even say a full sentence. Great.

Steve smiles at him, a sweet, knowing little thing. “Sure.”

Eddie waits for a beat, as if Steve is going to say anything else, then forces his feet into the direction of his bedroom to actually get changed. The whole way there, he lectures himself mentally for how ridiculous he’s being. It’s silly to be so shaken up by the whole baby shower fiasco- the twins’ slip-ups, the way he felt like he and Steve presented themselves as something like mates- Eddie should not be this affected by it all. He needs to be professional, and put his stupid, childish feelings aside.

Resolved, he tugs on a long-sleeved t-shirt and his red flannel pajamas pants before making his way back to the lounge. He can hear the twins already in there, giggling and talking, and when he rounds the corner, he sees Steve crouched in front of the television, messing with something. The girls are snuggled up together on one end of the sofa, a big blanket draped over their laps, and Eddie feels his heart constrict painfully at the sight. He loves them so, so much.

“Need any help?” Eddie asks as he crosses the floor, pausing beside Steve.

Steve glances up at him, shaking his head with a smile. “No, I’ve got it. Can you go grab a blanket off my bed, though?”

Eddie nods, making a silly face at the kids as he passes the couch.

The smell of Steve overwhelms him just a bit when he crosses the threshold into Steve’s bedroom. He ignores it the best he can, making his way over to the bed and grabbing the fuzzy throw blanket folded neatly at the end. It’s ridiculous, and pathetic, but he can’t help but bury his nose in the softness, just for a minute, inhaling deeply. God. Steve smells so damn good, Eddie doesn’t hardly know what to do with himself.

Well. That’s not entirely true. He knows he needs to stop being like this.

He makes his way back to the living room, pausing when he sees Steve curled up on one end of the sofa, the twins sprawled on the other.

Eddie has two clear choices.

Either he can sit in the space they left between them, which is obviously for him, or, he could sit in Steve’s recliner, avoiding the closeness entirely. It’s practically a no-brainer.

Of course, that decision could never be that easy.

“Eddie, are you going to come sit with us?” Ivy asks, being the first to notice him standing there.

Naturally, her saying that prompts Jasmine and Steve to both look over at him, with varying degrees of smiles on their faces.

“C’mere, honey, I saved you a spot,” Steve says, patting the seat beside him.

Well, so much for making the decision on his own.

“Here,” Eddie says as he sits down, handing Steve the throw he’d retrieved from his room. Part of him laments the loss; it really was a nice blanket, and not only because of lingering scent of Steve that clung to it.

“Oh, no,” Steve says, shuffling so that their legs are pressed together. “I wanted you to get it for you.” At Eddie’s perplexed expression, Steve smiles. “I know you get cold really easily, especially at night.”

Eddie feels his face flush at that. It’s true, of course, but knowing that Steve noticed it… well, it certainly doesn’t help with those pesky feelings. “Oh,” Eddie says after a minute, unsure what else he even can say. “We can share,” is what comes out of his stupid mouth.

Steve smiles, and it’s so damn soft that Eddie feels himself melting. “Well, if you insist,” he teases before pulling the blanket up over both of their laps.

“What is this movie?” Jasmine asks, and Eddie realizes with a start that there is, in fact, a movie playing on screen.

“It’s called Beetlejuice,” Steve replies. He glances at Eddie. “Have you ever seen it?”

Eddie shakes his head, ducking his head a little so that Steve doesn’t catch the embarrassment on his face. The truth is, he’d heard about the film, and while the premise sounds cute and relatively safe, he’s always been somewhat of a baby when it comes to any movie with any hint of scariness, and he definitely doesn’t want to show that card now. “No, I haven’t,” he mumbles, tugging at a loose thread hanging from the edge of the blanket across their laps.

“It’s pretty good,” Steve says. “Me and Robin went to see it in theaters when the twins were really little.” He drops his voice, and Eddie has to force himself not to lean closer than necessary to hear him. “It’s just comedy horror, most of it isn’t scary at all, so I think they’ll be okay.”

Eddie nods. “Great,” he says, his voice a bit weaker than he intends it to be.

He startles a little when he feels a hand on his knee. “You can hold my hand if you get scared, honey,” Steve whispers. He’s got a sneaky little grin on his face, and Eddie is grateful for the dimmed lighting in the room, which hopefully conceals his blushing cheeks.

“Oh- okay,” Eddie squeaks. His fingers twitch with the urge to do just that, but he knows that he shouldn’t. Instead, he laces his fingers together over his own lap, keeping his hands neatly to himself.

The pizza arrives just as the movie starts, so Steve pauses it while he jumps up to go get the food. Eddie goes to collect plates and napkins and drinks while Steve exchanges pleasantries and payment with the pizza delivery guy. They meet back at the coffee table around the same time, Steve smiling when he sees Eddie setting drinks out for everyone. “I was going to do that when I came back.”

Eddie shrugs, going back to his spot on the couch. “I got it,” he says with an easy smile back. He watches as Steve hands out pizza, half-expecting him to go back to his armchair rather than sit on the couch. He’s surprised when instead, Steve plops right back down beside him, accepting the corner of the blanket that Eddie hands out to him with a warm smile.

The movie starts out just fine, the humor aspect more than making up for any of the minor scares they utilize. Eddie finds most of his enjoyment in watching the twins watch the film at the other end of the sofa. Their faces are slack with intrigue nearly the whole time, and the few times they do get jump-scared is quickly followed by raucous giggles when the title character makes a joke of some sort. Eddie can feel his cheeks beginning to hurt from how much he’s smiling at them, but it feels nearly impossible to stop.

There aren't any particularly huge jump scares or anything over the course of the film, but as it nears the end, Eddie does wonder vaguely if the twins will struggle to sleep without thinking about all the weird distorted characters on the screen. They don’t seem particularly worried, though, and when the credits start rolling, Eddie is both disappointed and relieved. Disappointed, because he had managed to be good and spent the whole film with his hands to himself, which meant he didn’t get to touch Steve. And relieved, because even though he’s sad that the night is ending, he’s glad he won’t have to hold himself so tightly wound for much longer, finally able to escape to his room and just breathe.

They clean up their mess from dinner, sending the twins off to brush their teeth and get ready for bed while they collect the trash and leftovers from the coffee table. It’s an easy, domestic routine by now, one that Eddie feels he could repeat in his sleep. Once they’re finished, Eddie glances at Steve where he’s stood at the sink, rinsing out the cups they’d used.

“I’ll go, um… check that the twins are in bed,” he says, fiddling with one of his rings.

Steve glances at him and nods. “Okay. I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Eddie nods back before leaving the room, following the sound of the twins chattering and giggling in their bedroom. When he gets to the door, he pauses, watching as they try to sing the song from the end of the movie, although it’s immediately clear that neither of them know the words. He watches for a moment, just silently laughing at the scene in front of him, until Ivy attempts the floating scene by climbing on top of her bed.

“What’s going on in here?” Eddie asks smoothly, grinning when Ivy shrieks in surprise.

“Mommy, you scared me!” She squeals, flopping down on her bed and beaming up at him.

His heart does that same familiar squeeze when he hears her call him that name. “Sorry, honey. So, I take it you guys liked the movie?” he asks, going to sit on the end of Jasmine’s bed and smiling when she crawls into his lap.

“It was so funny!” Jasmine gushes, her hands flailing as she describes the scene where the Maitlands make their faces all long and distorted in order to prove that they can scare the humans away. Eddie nods as he listens to her talk, Ivy interrupting every few moments, as usual.

“-And then when Beetlejuice turned into a snake-” Ivy is saying when they hear a throat being cleared.

They all glance up to see Steve standing at their bedroom door, his arms crossed as his lips twitch. “Looks like a party in here,” he teases.

Eddie’s heart bursts with affection when the twins scramble off the bed to go to their father, dragging him into the room with them.

“Daddy! What was your favorite part of the movie?” Ivy asks, tugging him over to her bed.

He sits on the end of it, mirroring Eddie’s position on Jasmine’s bed. “Well, how about you two get into bed and I’ll tell you?” Steve bargains, quirking an eyebrow at both of them.

They’re quick to obey, scrambling under their covers and looking at him patiently, clearly curious about what he’ll say.

Steve smiles at them, sharing a little knowing look with Eddie. “Well, I think my favorite part… is probably either the waiting room scene… or maybe the song at the end.”

Eddie snorts at the irony. Steve gives him a curious look, but Eddie just gestures to the twins. “Do you guys wanna tell Daddy what you were doing when I came in?”

Jasmine looks mildly embarrassed, but Ivy, ever the shameless one, just lights up, sitting up in her bed quickly. “We were singin’ the song! Well… we don’t know all the words, but we’re gonna learn them!”

“Is that so?” Steve asks with a little chuckle. He reaches out, patting the bed. “Well, how about we work on that tomorrow, okay? We’ve had a busy day today, so I think we need some rest before we do all that.”

Ivy doesn’t look thrilled with that, but she nods in understanding. “Okay,” she agrees, snuggling back under her covers. She blinks her big hazel eyes up at Eddie then, her little hand reaching out. “Can I have my goodnight hug, please?”

Eddie melts. “Of course, honey,” he says, making his way over to her bed and crouching beside it. She’s quick to roll over and wrap her arms around his neck, snuggling in closely. He pets over her hair gently, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, sweet girl. I love you,” he murmurs. He wishes, more than anything, that these were really his children. That he could scent them like their real mother would, that he could let them call him ‘Mommy’ without feeling guilty about it.

“Goodnight,” Ivy replies before pulling away, reaching for her father next.

Steve gives him a knowing smile as they sort of swap places, Eddie going over to Jasmine’s bed next to give her a hug and tuck her in. “Are you warm enough?” he asks, smoothing the blanket out and reaching a hand up to brush back an errant strand of hair.

Jasmine nods. “Mhm.” She holds her little arms out, and Eddie leans in to give her a hug, squeezing her tightly.

“Goodnight, honey. I love you. Sweet dreams,” he murmurs into her hair.

“Night, Mommy,” she whispers as she lays back down.

Steve finishes bidding each of them goodnight, and Eddie waits at the door as Steve gestures to the nightlight. “Nightlight or no nightlight?” he asks.

The girls agree that they would like the nightlight on, so Steve dutifully goes and flicks the button, blowing them kisses as he heads to the door. “Goodnight, girls. I love you, sleep tight,” Steve says.

“And don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Eddie adds from behind him, smirking when the girls giggle.

Steve rolls his eyes, but is clearly hiding a smile when he pulls the door shut behind them.

Before Eddie can panic about being left alone with him, Steve nods to the kitchen. “I think I could use a drink, what about you?”

Eddie would normally decline, but after the day he’s had, he can’t think of a reason to. “Sure,” he agrees before following Steve down the hall and into the kitchen. Eddie leans against the island counter as he watches Steve peruse the liquor options, wrinkling his nose up at the whiskey and bourbon he finds.

“You don’t really like whiskey, right?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t hate it, but yeah, it’s not my favorite.”

Steve hums, then opens the other cabinet, making a triumphant little noise at whatever he spots there. “Bingo. Red wine sound okay?” He asks, gesturing with the sleek bottle.

“Um.” Eddie swallows hard. Wine is a bit… romantic, he thinks. “Sure,” he says, despite himself. It’s fine. There’s nothing romantic about sharing a glass of wine with your boss after a long day of work.

Right?

Steve takes a sip of the wine first, smacking his lips as he considers it. “It’s a little on the sweeter side,” he says, glancing at Eddie. “Is that alright?”

Eddie nods. It would be even more alright if he was tasting it from Steve’s lips, his stupid, horny, traitorous mind posits. He ignores that thought entirely, smiling at Steve. “Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t mind a sweeter wine.”

“Great.” Steve nods and pours them each a generous glass, handing Eddie his before making his way back over to the sofa. “You wanna watch something else?” He asks, flopping back onto the same end of the sofa he’d been sitting on earlier.

Eddie hesitates. It isn’t that late, and it is a Saturday, afterall. “Would… would that be okay?” he asks, feeling like an idiot even as the words leave his mouth.

Steve gives him a look, his lips quivering like he wants to laugh but isn’t sure if he should. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t, honey.”

And that does make him feel a bit dumb, but then Steve is patting the sofa cushion beside him, and Eddie feels fine going to sit with him. He cradles his glass of wine close to his chest as Steve grabs the remote, clicking through the channels until he lands on something that apparently piques his interest.

“Oh, have you seen this?” Steve asks, turning the volume down a couple of notches and laying the remote back on the coffee table.

Eddie glances at the screen, frowning as he tries to recall if the opening scene is familiar in any way. “Um, I don’t recognize it. What is it?”

Steve laughs, for some reason, and Eddie looks over at him, confused. “It,” Steve answers.

“Yeah, what is it?” Eddie repeats, assuming that Steve had just misunderstood.

Steve rolls his eyes at that, but Eddie can tell he’s not making fun of him. “No, it’s - that’s the name,” Steve explains. “The movie is called It. You ever read any Stephen King?”

Eddie pauses. He has read some, actually, and the name does ring a bell, now that he gets what Steve was saying. The problem is that he actually avoided this one for a reason. Something about clowns… they just gave him the heebie-jeebies. “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of it,” he says carefully, trying not to betray his sudden nervousness.

Apparently he does well, because Steve just smiles, oblivious to the way Eddie is gulping his wine, like that’ll help. “We don’t have to stay up for the whole thing, but we can watch a bit of it, if you want?” Steve asks, taking a sip of his wine and tugging the blanket over their laps.

“Sure,” Eddie says with a nod. He can do that. He can just watch a bit of it, and then, when it gets scary, he can feign a yawn and escape to bed. Piece of cake.

Except that’s not what happens.

He actually gets sort of invested in the film, and after the first jumpscare with Pennywise in the sewer, he’s lulled into a false sense of security, thinking the film isn’t really all that bad at all. And to be honest, it probably isn’t. The problem exists solely in the fact that Tim Curry’s Pennywise is freaky as hell, and even though Eddie makes it through the whole film, he knows he’ll be hearing that creepy voice, and seeing those razor-sharp teeth in his dreams.

At one point, close to the end, Steve checks in on him with a squeeze of his knee. “You okay?” he whispers, his eyes glued to the television when Eddie glances over at him.

“Um, yeah,” Eddie murmurs back, twisting his fingers nervously. He’d finished his wine half an hour ago, and now his hands are fidgety and anxious as the movie draws to a close.

“Not too scared?” Steve asks, and this time, he’s smirking when Eddie looks over at him.

“No,” Eddie whispers, his heart thrumming with a new kind of nervousness.

Steve pats his knee, then withdraws his hand. “Good,” he says before he turns his attention back to the television. It gives Eddie whiplash, the way that Steve goes so quickly from this almost-flirting to being completely oblivious. Maybe this is why he’s going insane, he thinks absently.

The film ends with little fanfare, and Eddie doesn’t even notice until Steve leans forward, shutting the television off with a click of the remote. He sighs, standing up and stretching, his arms going high up over his head. Eddie tries not to stare at the sliver of skin the move exposes, but it’s nearly impossible, his eyes drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Ready for bed?” Steve asks, startling Eddie into nearly falling off the edge of the couch.

“Er, yeah,” Eddie replies, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Steve is definitely smirking at him. He grabs their wine glasses and goes to the sink, rinsing them out to be fully washed tomorrow. When he’s finished, he wipes his hands off on the towel by the sink, turning to face Eddie with a hesitant look on his face. “Do you want to…”

Eddie’s throat tightens at the half-question. He knows what he wants Steve to say, but he knows, before Steve even finishes his sentence, that it’s not going to be exactly what he wants. “To…?” Eddie prompts, raising his eyebrows at him.

It might just be the dim lighting, but Eddie could almost swear that Steve is blushing. “Can I scent you? Before we go to bed?” Steve rubs his arm awkwardly, as if he’s uncertain about what Eddie’s response will be.

And god, that makes Eddie feel like mush. “Of course,” he murmurs, already moving closer. “After all, we missed our morning shot,” he jokes, referring back to when Steve said that scenting him felt sort of addicting.

Steve shrugs, looking a little bashful as he reaches out for Eddie. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want to like… scent-mark you right before your date. Wouldn’t want to give them the wrong impression, you know,” he mumbles, sounding petulant as he tries to duck his head into Eddie’s shoulder.

Oh. Right.

“Steve,” Eddie says, his voice bordering on a laugh as he gently pushes him back a bit. “You know I wasn’t actually on a date, right?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Steve blinks. “What?”

Eddie nods, feeling brave as he reaches out, running a hand through Steve’s flopping hair. “I was just meeting up with a friend from high school.”

“Oh,” Steve says. Eddie notices a distinct shift in his scent, a sweetness that wasn’t previously there tinting the air. “So you aren’t…”

“Nope,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Gareth is my best friend, but we’ve never been anything more than that.”

“That’s…” Steve hesitates, but then finishes his thought, though he looks a little ashamed. “That’s good,” he says, and yeah, he’s definitely blushing. “I- I just mean, like-” he says, stuttering all of a sudden. Eddie feels blessed to be seeing this so up-close, and for once, he feels like he might have the upper-hand between the two of them. “Like, it’s good that you’re seeing friends! Not that it’s good that it wasn’t a date, but-”

Eddie takes pity on him then. “Steve,” he murmurs.

Steve takes a breath, meeting his eyes again with an embarrassed smile. “Yeah?”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, tugging him in gently. “I would’ve told you if it was a real date,” he whispers.

He feels Steve’s arms wrap around his waist, and then that newly-familiar feeling of Steve tucking his face against his neck, breathing in deeply before scenting him. “You don’t have to,” Steve whispers back. “Your private life is none of my business.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh at that; he can’t help it. “Maybe not,” Eddie concedes. “But I wouldn’t keep something that big from you.”

Steve makes a soft noise, and Eddie could swear that he feels a brush of lips against his pulse. “Okay,” he allows, although Eddie can practically smell his desire to argue some more. “I appreciate that,” he says. “But… just know… you have a right to privacy, honey. Even though we’re… closer than most coworkers.”

Eddie definitely has to choke down another snort at that. Coworkers - it feels like the wrong word entirely for what they are, but he isn’t about to correct Steve. This thing is already so fragile, he couldn’t possibly bear to actually ruin it for real.

Instead of laughing, or speaking his mind, he tilts his head, allowing himself to be scented and held, pretending in some far corner of his mind that he’s loved by this man. This man, who never ceases to take care of him, to do everything he can to be the best father and partner a person could wish for. And even if he’ll never have that love reciprocated, Eddie will always have the comfort of knowing that Steve is the easiest person to love, and the most deserving of it.

“Can you…” Steve whispers, his breath ghosting over Eddie’s neck and making him shiver.

“What?” Eddie asks, just as softly.

Steve shifts, just a little, and Eddie realizes what he wants right before he asks. “Will you scent me, too?”

Eddie knows for a fact that he’s melting with affection as he nods, nosing against one side of Steve’s throat thoroughly before tilting his head and doing the same to the opposite side. “Good?” he asks softly when he feels that he’s done a thorough job.

“Yes,” Steve says with a sigh. “You know… you can scent me every time,” he says, pulling away slightly so he can look Eddie in the eyes. “You don’t have to wait for me to ask.”

Eddie smiles, but glances down, feeling a little embarrassed. It’s like Steve can just read his mind, sometimes. “But you might not want that every time,” he says, trying to sound reasonable and not like he’s just looking for an excuse not to get any closer than they already are.

There’s a gentle brush against his chin, and Eddie looks up when Steve’s fingers guide him to. “I’ll always want it, Eds,” he whispers. His gaze flicks down to Eddie’s lips, and Eddie feels like he might actually combust at the way his eyes flash.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, trying to control his breathing, and his scent. “If you’re sure you’re okay with it. And that it won’t bother the girls, for you to smell like me.”

That seems to catch Steve’s attention, and Eddie feels a cocktail of confused and relieved when his gaze is dragged away from Eddie’s mouth. Steve furrows his eyebrows, looking confused himself as he says, “I don’t think they’d mind at all.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, allowing himself to pull out of Steve’s grip, slowly but surely. “I know you’ve been scenting me for a while now, but I don’t want them to feel like…” He wants to say, “I don’t want them to feel like you’re trying to replace their Mom with me,” but he doesn’t know how to say it tactfully. Instead, he stops there, watching Steve carefully for any indication that he understands.

Steve just looks more confused, if anything. “Honey, they love you. I mean,” he laughs a little, shaking his head. “Eddie, I’ve heard them call you “Mommy” several times now. I don’t think you scenting me would be the end of the world,” he says.

Eddie’s stomach clenches, and he knows his scent must go sour with the sudden anxiety, because Steve’s nose crinkles. “Oh… you heard that?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t look bothered at all. “I heard both of them say it today at the baby shower. And… and I know you probably told them not to call you that, but Eddie…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t mind it.”

Eddie balks at him. “You don’t… mind it?” he repeats, baffled. “You don’t mind that your children refer to me as their mom, even though I’m not?”

Steve rolls his eyes, his shoulders sagging a little, like the conversation is exhausting him. “Eddie, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t mind that they’re calling you that, and like I’ve told you before, you are the closest thing they have to a mom. If they want to call you that…” Steve shrugs. “It’s fine with me.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. He’s not sure what to make of that. It doesn’t feel normal for an alpha to want their children to call someone who isn’t their mate by such a title, but before he can question his sincerity some more, Steve is speaking again.

“In fact,” he says, standing up a little straighter, like he’s just had a great idea. “I think that you should start scenting them, too.”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve shrugs. “I scent them before school, Robin scents them every time she sees them, but they’ve never really had an omega around to scent them.” He nods at Eddie. “Until now.”

“But…” Eddie trails off. He needs to stop using the twins’ clearly absent mother as an excuse to not be close to his - Steve’s - children. Clearly Steve and the twins themselves don’t have a problem with it, so Eddie maybe needs to stop feeling so guilty about it all the time. “Are you sure they’d be okay with that?” he asks anyway, twisting the rings on his fingers.

Steve smiles at him, reaching out and twisting the rings back to their proper position. “Yeah, honey, I’m pretty sure. Ivy asked me about it, like, a week after I started scenting you. I think it made her jealous,” he says with a laugh.

And oh, that makes Eddie’s heart feel so full. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I’ll… I’ll ask them if they’re okay with that in the morning.”

“Sure,” Steve says with a nod. “Oh, that reminds me, do you have plans tomorrow?”

Eddie shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. In the months that he’s worked for Steve, he’s never had plans on a weekend, except for yesterday morning. And yet, Steve still asks, almost every time. “Nope. Figured I’d just hang out here, if that’s okay.”

Steve lights up at that, just a little. “Of course it’s okay. The twins will be so excited that they get to spend the day with you,” he says.

Eddie smiles right back at him. “Same. Maybe we could do something tomorrow?”

“Sure. We can figure something out in the morning,” Steve replies, and Eddie recognizes that for the cue it is. But then, Steve turns back to him, giving him a soft smile. “Are you okay, though? The movie didn’t scare you too badly, did it?”

Damn. Eddie had almost forgotten all about the creepy fucking clown. “Er…” Eddie says, trailing off. When he sees the concerned look on Steve’s face, he’s quick to shake his head. “I- yeah, I’m fine.” He lies. He’ll probably be sleeping with one eye open tonight, to be honest.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, his eyebrows crinkling up in worry. “You can… you know, if you’re scared, you could…” Steve pauses, gesturing to his bedroom awkwardly.

It takes Eddie a second to get it. And when he does, his whole body flushes in embarrassment. Surely Steve isn’t actually offering- “Um, what?” Eddie asks, suddenly desperate for clarification.

Steve blushes, scratching his neck awkwardly. “You could… come sleep in my room. If you want.”

Eddie blinks at him.

“Um.”

“You don’t have to!” Steve says quickly, and Eddie notices how he scoots half a step away, putting some-much needed space in between them. It gives Eddie a little room to breathe, at least. “But just, like… the offer is there, if you need it. Okay?”

Eddie nods slowly. His brain isn’t moving quickly enough for the turns this conversation has taken, so all he can manage to say is a stuttered, “O-okay. Um… I’m gonna…” he takes a step backwards, in the direction of his own bedroom.

He pretends he doesn’t notice the slightly hurt look on Steve’s face.

“Okay,” Steve says, resigned. “Goodnight, Eds. Um… sleep tight.”

Eddie gives him a weak smile. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he finishes the little phrase, and is rewarded with a very cute smile mirrored on Steve’s face.

He gives an awkward little wave before making his way down the hall to his bedroom, growing increasingly wary of the lack of light in the apartment as he approaches his room. Like the scaredy cat that he is, he flicks his overhead light on immediately as he walks into his room, scanning every corner and crevice for anything suspicious. Content that he is well and truly alone in his room, he flicks the light off, all but jumping into his bed as soon as the lights are out.

It’s not like he never watches scary movies.

He does.

Just… usually he only watches them when he knows someone will be around to… comfort him, if he happens to get scared. Back when he was younger, that had been Wayne’s job, and bless his uncle’s heart - the man had spent many a night sleeping in the recliner so that Eddie could have the pull-out couch, terrified of being left in his own room by himself. Things had changed when Eddie and Henry started courting, but Henry didn’t usually like to deal with him after a horror movie. Eddie remembers being called “needy” and “childish” - both of which were perfectly true, just not very helpful, in the grand scheme of things.

Eddie forces himself to close his eyes, trying desperately to relax and stay calm, despite the images that dance in his head. Sharp teeth, long crooked fingers, a smile that’s just not quite right-

Was that a noise?

If he wasn’t so petrified, he’d probably laugh at himself for how ridiculous he’s being. Instead, he lays stock-still, his eyes just barely peeking open so that he can survey the room around him once more. He realizes how absurd he probably seems, and part of him is grateful that there isn’t anyone around to see this side of him. The bigger part of him, though… that part wishes he’d taken Steve up on his offer.

It’s not like it would be weird. Well… not in a bad way, at least. It would probably just be a little awkward, but surely it wouldn’t be that bad. And it’s not like Steve hadn’t offered…

That, and the lingering feeling that something is watching him from the closet, makes Eddie’s decision for him. He throws his covers off himself, making his way out of his room as quickly and quietly as possible. He closes the door behind himself, his socked feet aiding in his attempt to sneak through the apartment.

There’s a soft light streaming underneath Steve’s bedroom door, so Eddie doesn’t feel quite as terrible when he knocks lightly before pushing it open.

“Steve?” He whispers, peeking around the door.

“Eddie? Are you okay?” Steve’s concerned voice meets him, and Eddie takes that as his invitation, slipping through the doorway quietly. Steve is sitting up in his bed, a book in his lap, the lamp on his bedside table shining dimly. He’s also wearing glasses, something Eddie has never seen him wear before, although they’re actually quite a good look. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern when Eddie meets his gaze, but something in Eddie’s face must settle some of that, because it smooths out as he speaks. “Oh, honey. C’mere.”

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Eddie asks before he even dares move closer to the bed. “I don’t want to be annoying, I just-“

Steve interrupts him with a shake of his head. “No, no. Come here, I told you that you can sleep in here.”

Eddie shuffles over to the empty side of the bed, feeling a bit like a little kid. “I feel kind of ridiculous,” he admits through a mumble. “I’m twenty-six, you know.”

“I know,” Steve says, giving him a sweet smile as he lifts up the covers. “You can be twenty-six and still be afraid of things, you know.”

Eddie huffs as he climbs into bed beside Steve, his movements a little stiff and uncertain. “Yeah, well you certainly don’t seem scared,�� he argues petulantly.

Steve grins at him, patting his knee before his hand returns to his book. “I’m not twenty-six,” Steve jokes. Eddie pouts, and something about his demeanor gets Steve’s attention. “I am scared of things, Ed.”

“Yeah?” Eddie murmurs, turning over to lay on his side, looking up at Steve with wide, curious eyes. This feels important, like sharing secrets at a sleepover. “Like what?”

Steve makes a considering noise, and Eddie watches as he puts his book away on the nightstand. Eddie doesn’t catch the title of it, but vows to check in the morning, just out of curiosity. “Well,” Steve finally says, staring seemingly at nothing as he talks. “I’m scared of spiders. They gross me out, and I despise dealing with them when they’re in my house.”

Eddie snickers at that. “Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” he argues.

“Well, there’s still enough arachnophobia to go around, evidently,” Steve replies dryly. He sits for a moment, twiddling his thumbs as he thinks. His gaze is unfocused, like he’s deep in thought. “I’m scared of something bad happening to the people I care about,” he whispers.

Eddie’s throat tightens when Steve looks down at him, blinking meaningfully. “Yeah,” Eddie manages, twiddling with a loose string on the comforter. “I get that.”

The mattress dips and creaks as Steve twists to flick off his lamp and rolls over on his side to face Eddie. There’s just enough soft moonlight filtering in through the curtains for Eddie to make out the shape of Steve’s eyes and the slant of his nose. He breathes slowly and quietly across the distance between them, and Eddie’s eyes track helplessly down to study Steve’s lips.

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes back. He’s obsessed with the way Steve’s mouth forms words in the dark, his teeth glinting beautifully every time the moonlight catches them.

Eddie feels a gentle hand rest on his waist, and he tries not to jump at the contact. “Are you still scared?” Steve murmurs, and Eddie’s not sure, but he thinks that maybe Steve has shifted closer.

“Not anymore,” Eddie whispers. He’s not sure that they’re still talking about the movie.

Steve smiles at him, or at least in the dark that’s what it appears like, and Eddie carefully nudges himself forward as well. It wouldn’t hurt anything, surely, for them to be close to each other. And if they happened to get even closer, surely that wouldn’t hurt anybody, since-

Their noses brush.

Eddie draws in a sharp breath, his hand instinctively gripping the covers in a tight fist. If he moved just a centimeter closer, they’d be kissing.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes, his voice broken and soft. Eddie stills, preparing himself for the inevitable let down and disappointment.

That’s not what happens.

Instead, Steve shifts somehow even closer, the hand on Eddie’s waist skating up to cup his jaw. “I need you to tell me no if you don’t want this,” Steve whispers.

Eddie is silent, staring at Steve through wide eyes. It’s wrong, Eddie is vaguely aware of that, but here, in the dark, it feels like it could be okay. It could be okay for them to kiss, just as long as these feelings stay tucked away in this little pocket of darkness and silence.

Even if it isn’t okay, a distant part of Eddie’s brain reminds him, he’s tired of fighting it. He’s tired of holding himself back every time he wants Steve, of pretending that he doesn’t feel something for him. And even if this is just about sex for Steve, Eddie would give him that, if it meant he got to have him in some way.

Steve is still watching him, clearly waiting for some kind of response. Eddie clears his throat and allows his hand to reach out for Steve, clutching the front of his t-shirt with ease. “I’m not going to tell you no,” Eddie says quietly. “Want this too bad,” he mumbles.

“You’re sure?” Steve whispers. “I know you said-“

“I know,” Eddie interrupts. “I… I know what I said. But…” he braces himself for what he’s about to say. He knows it’s desperate, and ridiculous, but at this point, he would do just about anything to have Steve. “It… it’ll be kind of like scenting, right? So… it’s fine.”

Even in the darkness of the room, Eddie can make out the incredulity that paints Steve’s expression. “Like scenting…” Steve trails off.

Eddie gets a horrible idea. It almost makes him sick, to think about what he’s about to say to Steve right now, the lie he’s about to let slip. But part of him knows that he won’t be able to handle it if Steve’s the one who says it first, so sparing himself that pain might be the only way he can handle this at all.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve stills.

Eddie watches him, his heart racing as he waits for any indication that Steve will argue with him, or question him, or anything that would prove that he wants it to mean something.

“Oh,” he says, eventually. Eddie holds his breath. “If you’re sure,” Steve whispers, his hand cradling Eddie’s cheek softly.

Eddie’s heart shrivels up in his chest, any hope he had left going right along with it. “I’m sure,” Eddie lies again. He can’t seem to stop lying.

Steve shifts just a bit closer, brushing their noses together. “Okay,” Steve whispers.

That’s all the warning Eddie gets before Steve is pressing his mouth to Eddie’s. It’s tentative, and somehow even more chaste than that fleeting kiss Eddie had stolen that first time. It still leaves Eddie breathless and wanting, his hand moving to clutch at the front of Steve’s shirt instead of the sheets beneath them. He can feel Steve’s heartbeat through the thin cotton, erratic and comforting underneath Eddie’s fingertips.

Steve doesn’t drag it out. It’s probably less than a minute after kissing him that he pulls away from Eddie, his expression unreadable. Eddie licks his lips without thinking, and Steve’s eyes track the movement. “Fuck,” he whispers.

Eddie’s heart, or the husk left in its place, sinks in his chest. He can’t bear the thought of disappointing Steve, but apparently, somehow he has. “What?” Eddie whispers back, afraid to raise his voice.

Steve closes his eyes, sighing deeply. “We shouldn’t have…” Eddie feels like he might cry. “I’m just going to want to do that even more now.” His voice is strained, distraught.

And, well. Eddie’s only human. And that confirmation of being desired, even if it’s just carnal, makes his heart sing. “Well…” Eddie trails off. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

Steve opens his eyes, but he looks sad when he meets Eddie’s gaze. “I know.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “But you were right… it’s really not a good idea. I won’t… I won’t corner you like this again, Eddie. I promise.”

Eddie feels like he has whiplash from all the back and forth. Every time he thinks he’s got Steve and his feelings figured out, he goes in the opposite direction again. It’s starting to make his head hurt. “Oh…” Eddie finally manages to choke out. “Okay.”

He hesitates. They’re still so close, and Eddie could probably just move back, but it no longer even feels appropriate to be in the same bed. He shifts, trying to subtly slide out from under the covers, but a gentle grip on his wrist stops him.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks, his eyes wide and hurt.

“Oh… I was just going to… I figured you’d probably want me to sleep in my own room,” Eddie explains, trying hard not to make eye contact.

Steve sits up with him, ducking his head to force him to meet his gaze. “Of course not. I don’t think we should let ourselves be so reckless anymore with…well, anyway.” He shakes his head, but his gaze comes right back to Eddie’s. ”I still want you to sleep in here.”

Eddie sighs, conflicted. As much as he wants to be close to Steve, and as much as he enjoys being wrapped up in the alpha’s scent like this, he’s just not sure his heart can take anymore. “Steve…” he starts, unsure of what he can even say.

“I promise I won’t touch you,” Steve says, his voice small. When Eddie blinks over at him, Steve is looking down at his hands, and Eddie can smell the shame rolling off of him.

That makes the decision for him.

Carefully, Eddie resettles, laying back on the pillows once again. He looks up at Steve, giving him a weak smile. “I’ll stay,” he murmurs, even as his mind is racing to a decision that he doesn’t feel he’s brave enough to make.

Steve lays beside him, keeping that promised distance between them. His hand twitches on the bed between them, as if he wants to reach out, and Eddie wishes like hell that he would. But if all this emotional motion sickness has taught him anything, it’s that he and Steve just want different things.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve whispers into the dark. “Sweet dreams.”

Eddie swallows hard. God, he’s going to miss him.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

[psychotic-nonsense]

In October of 1967, Steve Harrington is born in Hawkins, Indiana.

He's raised there, forced to live under the strict expectations of his parents, Richard and Samantha. Barely escapes their clutches, freedom fueled by the kids and adults that take the role of guardian and family when the time is right. Keeps himself in check with the always impending apocalypses that arise beneath his feet.

In June of 1985 - when Steve Harrington is 18, while Richard and Samantha Harrington are visiting New York for an extended work trip - Veronica Harrington is born.

She was carried and raised in secret from their hometown. They take care of her between their business hours, dropping her in the hands of nannies and babysitters galore. They don't even think of Indiana during Veronica's early childhood, too focused on work and making sure their daughter starts up right.

In October of 1986 - when Steve Harrington is 19, aged further by ending the Vecna War, yet tamed by his newfound love in Eddie Munson - Richard and Samantha Harrington return to Hawkins.

They don't ask about what happened to their son. They don't ask about the town. They don't ask questions, just give responses to them. Sneering at Steve's friends, complaining about the state of the house, commenting at the disfunctional chaos their home has become.

In November of 1986, Richard and Samantha Harrington disown Steve.

They just let him go. They at least give him a folder of his legal documents, but otherwise just tell him to get out of their house and never use their name again. Claiming Steve doesn't need anything from the room because the Harrington's own everything in it. They don't call him son, they don't say goodbye, they don't acknowledge who's actually taken care of the house, they don't admit most of Steve's former room has changed with money Steve earned himself, they don't dare to give him any money or care where he goes. They just say they're sick of dealing with an unworthy mistake of a child, and force him out of their house.

In November of 1986, the Party's adults adopt Steve.

He runs to them first after everything happens. Held himself together at the start, but broke down the second the words were out. While everyone was trying to comfort Steve, Wayne Munson and Jim Hopper were the first to succeed. They know firsthand that this family would never be the same as blood, no matter how much that blood has boiled and burned before, but the love will be stronger and it will be here. When everyone seconds it, Steve finally accepts it. He becomes a child of the Party - he's everyone's son and everyone's brother, taking whatever surname he sees fit.

In November of 1986, Steve Henderson and Eddie Munson leave Hawkins.

Despite all this good, Steve can't bear to stay in this damned town a second longer, where everyone knows who he is and will soon know everything he isn't. And it's not like Eddie was looking forward to sticking around Hawkins either, especially without his Steve. The kids are the first to agree, surprisingly, and the adults promise to find a way for the boys to get out. Later that week, when Richard and Samantha leave the house to prepare for Veronica, Steve and Eddie break in to take everything that's rightfully theirs. While they're there, not sure what prompts him, Steve makes a bag of his clothes with shoes and his wallet tucked within it, shoving it into his closet. Dustin's mom uses an old favor to get the boys an apartment in Chicago, the Party has one last farewell, and the two boys are gone.

From 1986 onward, Veronica Harrington is raised in Hawkins, Indiana.

Richard and Samantha are adamant in their daughter coming out exactly how she should. They steadily convince the town to forget the Harringtons ever had a son and lock the room on the second floor next to the stairs without ever touching the inside. They raise her with formality and pride at the top of their expectations, wanting at least one child to come out right.

But Veronica is the spitting image of Steve's honesty and care. She puts on a facade when needed, but even at a young age, she wants nothing more than to be someone's light in the darkness. She plays with every lonely kid at school, and tries to make people laugh at the business parties she's dragged to. It's not received well by her parents, but Veronica is much too strong willed and stubborn to let it phase her.

In April of 1991 - when she's 6 and they're so much stronger around their hearts - Veronica Harrington meets Steve and Eddie Munson for the first time.

It's the year Erica is set to graduate high school. Steve and Eddie have been making the drive for every holiday this year, ordered determined to give her the best senior year she could have. It's Easter Sunday, and Wayne somehow managed to drag his boys away to church - a Munson custom, as even Eddie insisted they go.

While at the snack table post sermon, a little girl comes up to Steve, mistaking him for her father. He and Eddie gently comfort the girl, introducing themselves and offering to help the girl find her parents. That's when Veronica introduces herself, striking Steve deep in his heart. Still, he keeps quiet, even gifting her a little origami crane made from napkins at the table. He calls her "chickpea" for the color of her dress, tells her to keep the crane secret and safe, "If ever you need to find your way back home, you hold that close, and it'll tell you."

Meanwhile, Wayne has come across Richard and Samantha in the crowd opposite the kids. Exchanging formalities, Wayne mentions his son and nephew are in town, news the Harrington's are surprised at, as Wayne didn't seem like the father type. However, trying to keep face, they remain civil and insist on introducing their daughter.

Cue Veronica running to her parents with Steve and Eddie in tow. Cue Steve calling Wayne dad right to Richard's face. Cue the Harrington's immediate leave from the church, Veronica waving behind her with a crane placed carefully in her pocket.

From then on, Veronica Harrington's life changes indefinitely.

Her parents' expectations grow tenfold. She finds out she's horribly allergic to chickpeas. All of her friends must be approved by her parents, and any that don't fit their image are ordered to leave her.

Veronica takes these changes in stride - is her class's top student, captain of the softball and volleyball teams in junior high, keeps the friends she wants in secret from her parents - but she can't help but keep the crane in a little box in her room. Gets a necklace with a little origami crane pendant, holds it whenever she needs to make a hard choice. Can't help but expand herself in secret, learn things her parents would never approve of - lock picking, other languages, sleight of hand, a clothing style that's nothing like the dark blues of her family, all warmth and light. She explores every room in her house, yet is unable to find her way into that room upstairs next to the steps.

In May of 1998, Veronica Harrington discovers the truth about her brother.

She's about to be a freshman. Her class was touring the high school in preparation, and while passing the athletics hall, her eyes hit the swimming trophies. Each row stuffed with trophies, and each one with a name that stabbed her right in the stomach: Steve Harrington.

After that, she couldn't bear all the secrecy anymore. Late that same night, she finally uses her lock picking skills to break into that room. And though it's devoid of life, it is a bedroom, so evidently lived in. It's frozen in time, twisted sheets covered in dust, old papers crinkled from being stepped on but not picked up, old clean clothes still sitting in the hamper. It's a boy's room, clearly, and Veronica is careful walking around this place of memories.

She does still explore, quietly clicking on lights around the room, too cautious to touch the overhead lights. She looks under the bed, finding a bat and a trash can lid, both embedded with rusty nails. A shirt that still smells like fresh laundry yet has a back stained permanently with long red lines down the shoulders. Dozens of stapled documents labeled NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT, detailing horrific events that each have that same name signed at the bottom.

With shaking hands she checks the closet, and finds it mostly empty. All except for a deep green graduation robe and cap, a cream Hawkins High letterman, and a duffel bag hidden in the back corner. The cap has a 1985 tassel, and the letterman has Harrington branded on the back with basketball and swimming patches galore. And the bag, when she checks it, looks like a survivalist pack someone would make in an apocalypse. At the top sits a wallet, and inside is an ID for a Steve Harrington, who has the same face as the one in her origami memories.

And Veronica is done. She wakes up the next morning and throws Steve's jacket on the kitchen table, startling both her parents mid sip of coffee. She finds herself in a screaming match with her father, demanding them to quit lying to her, begging to know who her brother is.

In a fit of rage, Richard tells her. Tells her everything Richard and Samantha never saw in Steve, about Veronica's secret birth, the disownment, Steve's disappearance from the Harrington house and Hawkins. She's reminded of that one Easter Sunday, and is told how Richard and Samantha faked Veronica's allergy to keep her mind from being tainted by whatever curse befell their bloodline before. Orders her to never say that name again.

In a fit of rage, Veronica bites back. Calls her parents cruel and overly expectant. Comes clean about her secret freedom. Says she'd rather be nothing than ever carry the burden of the Harrington name ever again.

She hides away in her room after the fight. Cries in her closet with her origami box cradled tightly to her chest, begging it to take her home because this place isn't anymore, maybe never was. Cries for the brother she never even got to meet, who went through so many horrible things yet still got put through this same punishment. Cries for the future she won't get to have, losing her hope for a new beginning that will now never be.

At the start of June, 1998, Veronica runs away.

She makes it through the rest of May in near silence. She writes notes for all of her friends at the end of the school year, and one for her parents to inevitably find. Finds 75 dollars in Steve's old wallet, stuffs the duffel bag the rest of the way with her belongings, and says goodbye to Hawkins.

She takes the first bus she can find out of town. Doesn't care that it's going to Chicago, doesn't really care where she's going now. She befriends an old homeless man riding the bus as well, becomes another interesting name in his "Book of Wanders (Pronounced as Wonders)." As Veronica's telling the story about unknowingly meeting her brother, she remembers the crane in her bag. She reaches in to retrieve the little box, then the crane, nearly crying seeing how disheveled and unfolded it is. Broken and doomed, just like her. But looking at it now after so long, she thinks she sees something written inside it. Despite it shattering her heart pieces, she carefully unfolds the little crane.

At its center, in old, bleeding blue text, reads, "Find the Swooping Bat if you've lost your way."

The old man laughs then, taking Veronica's hand and placing it onto her chest, over her heart. "It's fate," he whispers in the dark bus. "There's a place called that in Chicago."

Veronica uses her money to rent them both a hotel for the night, giving the old man a warm bath for the first time in weeks. She gifts him the clothes as well, saying it's, "an honorary thanks from my brother, for helping me get here." They bid each other farewell in the morning, the old man telling her to keep hold of fate.

She finds her way to the Swooping Bat easily, hand on her necklace guiding her way. It's a quaint little diner, popular enough to be comfortably warm when she walks in. A young lady in a wheelchair - Max, says her nametag, with pins saying things like, "Summer work blows" and "USC grad or bust!" resting on her collar - guides her to a booth next to the sunrise.

"Anything I can get you today?" Max asks when Veronica's seated.

Veronica's fully ready to order everything on the menu, what with how delicious this place smells, but then she remembers her funds. 5 bucks, if she's lucky. "Just a chocolate milk, for now. Biggest one you have, please." She somehow plays off Max's skeptical look, her eyes sweeping over Veronica's no doubt disheveled and no-food-in-36-hours appearance.

It somehow works out, and Max is wheeling away. Veronica allows herself a moment to collapse, stomach growling in pain and eyes burning with the realization she has no idea what she's going to do now. She just has this last bit of hope to hold onto, and without it, she'll be nothing but a husk.

She's not sure how long she sits there, staring at the sunrise and letting sound and AC whisk her mind away, but there's suddenly a little knock on her table. Her head snaps up, and there's Max again, setting down a giant glass of chocolate milk... alongside a loaded breakfast plate.

"It's on the house," Max rushes to explain, all fondness when Veronica scrambles to get her wallet. "Courtesy of the owner. And between you and me," she whispers with a wink, "just take the damn food, kid."

Veronica stumbles over herself for a moment, rendered near speechless, before she finally comes back. She begs Max to thank the owner profusely, before rushing to dig into the pancakes before her. She's halfway done dousing the stack in syrup by the time Max wheels away, when there's suddenly someone laughing.

"Of course," says a choked-up voice behind her. "Can't have any chickpeas starving in my booths."

Veronica nearly drops her fork. She turns so sharply she gets dizzy. Seven years can't change a person that much, surely, because though he's bigger in the torso and he has glasses on the bridge of his nose and his hair is cut so close, he still has the same softness in his voice and the same slouch in his stance and the same moles around his eyes and his smile is so bright despite the tears in his eyes, and though Veronica can barely see through tears herself, it's not like she needs them anyway to know it's-

"Steve!" she cries, scrambling out of the booth to meet her brother halfway. The relief of it all working out has the rest of her restraint collapsing, forcing harsh sobs out of her and into Steve's shoulder. The siblings hold each other in the middle of a restaurant, a voice in the background asking everyone to leave them be. Steve doesn't stop whispering, even as his chest heaves with broken gasps between tears, "You're save, Veronica, I got you, I got you, it's gonna be okay, you're safe here, it's okay, sis, it's okay..."

"That you, lil' chickpea?" whispers a different voice once they've calmed down. Veronica reluctantly pulls away and finds a man kneeling beside them, a hand on Steve's shoulder and similar tears in his eyes. His hair and tattoos remind her of the tamed wild from seven years ago, covered in black in the middle of church yet glowing brighter than the stained glass, the one that Steve looks at in past and present with a glowing love Veronica never saw between her parents.

"Yeah," she whispers, wiping her tears away before placing a hand atop her necklace. It catches Eddie and Steve's eyes and make them beam with pride and relief. "Yeah, it's... it's me...."

[ebaylee422]

Mending Our Home PT. 2

Dad!Steve Harrington X Mom!Reader

Authors Note: This is a chapter talking about grief, again Pregnancy loss trigger warning! Send in a request if you want to see more Dad Steve in the future (maybe some happier stuff but I do love angst), I have a few other drafts but would love some inspo!

Summary: Conclusion of the Harrington's unplanned hospital stay, Joyce and Jim (Hop) cheer you up. Taking care of you and Steve like you wished your parents did. In Steve's exhaustion he's brought back to 1986 and the memories he wish would stay there. You blame yourself, for all of it.

Characters: Steve Harrington, Reader, Teddy Harrington (oc), Joyce and Jim, mentions of other characters ft. auntie robin and uncle dusty. Max Mayfield and Eddie Munson.

Warnings/Tags: Grief, Clarity of what happened Season 4, Body dysmorphia?, Pregnancy loss warning!

Word Count: 4.4 k

Flipping through a magazine that was on the tray table when a series of knocks stole your attention. The door opened wide to reveal Joyce running to your bedside. She looked just as exhausted as Steve. Jim Hopper followed to drop some bags on the floor, setting a water bottle and baggy of snacks on the tray by your bed. She cupped your face and grabbed your hand, kissing all over your face. Steve stood at the foot of your bed in tears, Jim came up behind him and shook up his shoulders, pushing him to the other side of the bed close to you. The adults took turns hugging you, but Steve just watched in silence, examining your body, his face holding some type of apprehension. While his hand was soft and malleable cradled with yours, warming your heart.

“You did so well honey. After Steve called us, Hop and Jonathan went and cleaned the apartment up. When you're sick of us, we're gonna stop on the drive home at Bradley's and fill your fridge. Get everything nice, ready for you to be home safe." She squeezed your shoulders again before hugging you get again.

"Geez don't suffocate the girl. What Joyce is getting too, we’re all so glad you're alive and recovering kiddo.” Hop pulled Joyce to his side, knocking your chin to the side in fondness.

"We also have been sprucing up Jonathan's old room so Teddy has a comfortable place with us. Whenever! No pressure, he's just such a good little boy." Joyce reached out for you hand leaning her hip on the free space of your bed.

“Or if Steve gets sick of sitting up in a chair staring at you.” Hopper added with a wink, poking fun at Steve.

“Watch it, oh old one,” Steve went over and started talking to Jim. Joyce was still holding tightly to your hand,

“Thank you, Joyce for everything. For coming here, being with Teddy. It means a lot.” You squeaked

“Of course, sweetie, you just take all the time you need to heal and rest." she brushed the wiry hair off your forehead.

"We're all here for you, and we have a little surprise in the waiting room if you're up for it." Hop added, craning his head towards the door.

"Yes! Eat something first you two, I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere!" Joyce jumped up running out of the room.

"I love that woman but she is crazzzyyyy..." Hop sighed moving his cap to scratch at his scalp

"A wonderful crazy that you match Hop." You giggled

"Shush, now let's open up the ho-ho's before she comes back and complains about my high blood sugar." He teasingly hit your arm with the back of his hat, grabbing the paper bag of squeaky plastic processed snacks dumping them out on the table.

"Mommmmyyyyy!!!!" The door opened wide to Joyce holding Teddy by his hand until he saw you in the bed. Running immediately to you Steve pulled him across the bed by his belt.

"Teddy! Hi baby." you cried, kissing all over his face holding him to your chest. Voice caught in your throat at his smell they way he still fit in your arms. "My sweet boy, I missed you so much." you croaked. Shoulder starting to shake, your eyes clouded with emotion. Steve rubbed your back, pinching his nose to stop the imminent onslaught of tears felt by everyone in the room.

"What's wrong, Mommy?" Teddy probed ever the smart boy, "Nana told me to be gendle. Was not gendle?"

His hands brushing your tears clumsy, holding your face in his soft and small hands. They would only be like this once, you thought. Remembering how scared you were when you found out. Now not ever thinking about changing how anything went if each outcome gave you the family you had. Only the sorrow on those few who weren't here to share it along side you.

"No teddy-bear you are so gentle," You assured your baby, because that's exactly what he was. Teddy was yours, your baby boy. "Mommy's just sad. But you, Daddy, and everyone else makes me better."

"Do you want us to take him with us?" Joyce stressed as you held Teddy, rocking him against you. The feeling of shame creeped up your throat in needing a nearly 5 year old's comfort.

"No, no, we'll either be able to take him home from bedtime, or Robin will. She wants to check in. Help me clean up the car." Steve insisted, ruffling Teddy's long chestnut curls. making them stick up in various directions.

"Steve I'm so sorry. That BMW has been through it." you rambled embarrassed, hiding your face against the pillow.

"It's perfectly okay, I'll shine her up! She'll be as good as she was on my 16th birthday."

"You should get some rest first, Steve. You look like you just spend the night in the can."

"You can sleep in a can?" Teddy perked up at his honorary grandpa,

"We gotta fine one big enough for you bear!" Joyce spun Teddy around, chasing him around the room. They both walked around the hospital with you affectively tiring you out but not your son.

"We could've brought blankets!" Joyce admonished her husband trying to help Steve with the pull out couch.

"We're in a hospital, Joyce. I doubt they don't have extra blankets for Steve's comfort. Now a pillow for that head is a whole other issue."

You giggled into Teddy's neck, as the two men bickered. Joyce left to finish making the bed.

"Are we gonna live here now?" Teddy asked you coloring randomly on the newspaper you held on your lap for him.

"No baby, just until I get a bit better." You cooed, rubbing his back he sat up to look at you.

"What's wong?" You looked to Steve who'd stopped, then back to your son. The fear in his brown eyes reflective of his father's turned your stomach sour. Steve was at you side in a spit second to distract Teddy.

"Um hey. Do you need anything particular while we're out?" Hop cleared his throat as Joyce wrap a arm around his waist covering her yawn in his chest.

"Do you have everything at home, Sweets?" your husband asked through tired eyes and a hardly contained yawn.

"They send us home with things right? I'll be okay. Maybe just Teddy?"

"Hey bub, Nana and Pop are gonna go grocery shopping. You want anything special?"

"Sheerios!"

"Heart healthy, good job!" She pinched his cheeks, "We'll give you some time together, just call the house if you need us?" They said their goodbyes and Steve shut the down behind them, leaving the Harrington's in the room together.

"Is there food here?" Steve laughs unwrapping a ho-ho for Teddy,

"Hey Edmund, we want to talk to you about something. Okay?" Steve started the conversation with saturated warmth.

"And it's okay to not understand, be sad or angry. You just tell us, we love you so much." You added moving the hair out of his eyes, just like you did for his father. Edmund was his carbon copy if that was ever a possibility.

"Otay."

"Remember we talked about being careful with Mommies tummy?" He nods chocolate smearing on his chin as he eats, "Do you know the reason why?"

"To grow my best fwiend." You sharply inhale, but Steve keeps Teddy's attention on him as your lip wobbles.

"Yeah, yeah buddy. Mommy and I wanted-want you to have a little sibling, but they weren't quite ready yet. " Steve corrects himself,

That's why Mommy and I are here at the hospital because Mommy and I, we had to say goodbye." Steve's hand reaches out for yours as an anchor. Teddy then notices your distress again, hooking his arms around your neck.

"Don't cry, Mommy. You still my friend." He tells you, brushing your hair down just like he's seen Steve do for you when your sick.

"Yeah?" You ask wetly, squeezing him. "I'm not your bestest friend?" you chide jokingly.

He laughs, cupping your ear and violently whispers.

"Don't tell Daddy..." Then hiding in your neck again.

"Okay baby." You giggle wetly, "Do you understand what were saying?"

"The stork took the baby back, because she wasn't ready."

"Almost, we still need to be careful with Mommies tummy a little longer. She doesn't feel to good, the baby made her real sick." Steve sits on the edge of the bed, Teddy seeks his comfort by leaning against Steve's chest. They both heave a sigh of relief, melting into each other's embrace with you at their side.

"But I'm better now, I'll always be here. No matter what." You brush thick locks from his eyes, some of the ends still baby blonde from his first hair cut.

"Will you have a baby still?" Teddy finally breaks a confused smile, laying his palm flat over you heart.

"Maybe someday, but right now I need to heal and give you my undivided attention!"

"This makes Mommy sad, and Daddy sad too." He asks, somber. To many thoughts and emotions running through his small body at once as he traces the shapes on your hospital gown.

"A little, but nothing tickles can't fix!" Steve grabs at Teddy's sides pining him against the bed as you both attack him with tickles. Under his chin, feet and along his sides.

"Hehehe, otay! Staph!!"

"Oh no, here comes the tickle monster!" Steve rears back pulling his elbows deep into his shirt like a t-rex's arms

"Nooo! Daddy no tickle monster!" Teddy belly-laughs holding your arm over him in protection

"Once he gets started the tickles must ensue! Only tickles!" Steve says if faux pain, pretending to tickle your sides.

"No Daddy!"

"Run Teddy! You can't save me! Save yourself from the tickles!" Teddy slides off the bed running to the bathroom and shutting the shower stall.

"Hi-" Steve says cupping your face in his hands pressing chaste kisses around your face.

"Hi." You stop his ministrations, kissing him deeply on the lips making his shoulders relax as you hold his face to you.

"When's the last time I said I love you?" taking a hypnotized breath that warms your cheeks, smelling of chocolate.

"It's a new day Mr. Harrington, but I love you too."

"You're beautiful and I love you. I'ma tell you that everyday for the rest of my days." His nose, circles around yours with humor.

"You're a dork."

"Your dork, in writing Sweets. Till death do us part-" He wiggles his ring finger in your face, unaware of his doubleganger trying to climb up your legs.

"And ickness!" Teddy yells next to Steve by the bed, frustrated.

"Ickness?! Oh no!" Steve picks up his son, shaking him into another fit of giggles. As he slams the toddler down on your cover legs, Teddy pleads for aid versus Steve. And you comply unable to resist his Harrington born charm. Pulling at Steve's shirt, pretending to go back for more kisses. You give him one on his cheek as an apology before you trap his arm under your body.

"Come 'ere Teddy, cuddle pile on Daddy." Teddy doesn't hesitate flinging himself of Steve's chest knowing he'll catch him regardless.

"Ugh! You. Are so heavy, can't stay up!" Steve plays dead, falling in his arm chair while Teddy slides down his body. Waltzing Jumping with without Steve's support back over to you on the bed.

"Daddy perished." You burst out laugh with Steve, at your baby's seriousness.

"Who taught you that word?" You ask through laughs

"Uncle Dusty, said died wasn't good. Perish is metal." He responds with an almost perfect rock and roll head bang.

"Jesus Christ-" You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose,

"Speaking of Uncle Dusty, I think he's gonna be at bedtime tonight." Steve's head jumps up from it's place resting on the chair.

"Really?! He doing the puppet show!" Teddy's eyes nearly burst out of his skull in excitement

"I do the puppet show too!" Steve fiends offense

"But Dusty does voices, Daddy." Teddy whines

"I've never been more offended by a preschooler!" Steve holds his chest, pretending to sob.

"Get the phone for Mommy baby, we're gonna call Auntie Robin and Uncle Dusty for bedtime stories."

"Yes!" he jumps of the bed, making your heart leap out of your chest.

You dialed the house, phoneline picked up by Joyce as Robin and Dustin argued in the background. Asking for Robs to pick up her nephew. She stayed an hour, taking the car seat in her tiny car. Promising Steve to call you both before bedtime. When he came back to the room, Steve slumped back into the arm chair he'd dozed off in several times within the past hour.

"Stevie Baby, if you keep nodding off your head will pop off like a bottlecap."

" 'M sorry. Just a lot going on up there."

"That's no good." You giggled holding Teddy's Winnie the Pooh stuffy in your arms. You cried when he left it with you, wanting him to keep you company until he saw you after preschool tomorrow.

“Hmm." He stood up, pacing the foot of your bed. Unraveling a blanket laying it over you, before taking the smaller one for himself. After a few minutes he try's to dose off again, only to pop he's head back up and grip the arm rests. As he looks at you on the bed with unease.

"Steve, talk to me. Please." You press moving the blankets off your lap in mild frustration. Not directed at him yet his face crumples in a wince all the same.

"I was really scared, Y/N. I’ve never been that scared before, ever. I just-… Jesus.” He rubbed at his eyes again, slumping into the armchair. Scratching at his scalp,

“Steve.” Swinging your feet of the bed, leaning forward to halt his movements. Weaving your fingers in his, his lips pressed to your knuckles.

“I can't do this without you, I couldn't help you-I was helpless. Max, she. She was like a sister to me and when she passed away..." His seeming composure broke then, like the last crack in a dam. Letting the water roam freely, he shook with the waves. You stood up holding him against you, his tears dampening the fabric you wore. "I was lost for a long time. Then Eddie too, with all that blood and you so scared. I can't fucking imagine... Fuck Y/N-”

"Steve..." You kissed the crown of his head, the selfish misunderstood boy King was long gone. Stomped out by his father, Russian Soldiers, a multi-dimensional power, and finally himself. When he'd look in the mirror he fought a broke until there was no longer a empty shell of a person who couldn't sleep with his window open anymore. He filled his life with those he cared for, became strong for them. He craved their presence, the good and the bad. Then he found you, you were his future a dream he now craved. You made his love for you a reality with your son. Healed him to be the man he never thought possible, kisses his scars in the dark and still loved them full-heartedly in the daylight. Proud of his name, proud of the person he was and always could be. The guilt of his love hurting, his love hurting you. Was unfathomable, but you were here. Holding him through it, even if it caused you pain you didn't show him. You were there. You were still here with him and he's breathing evened out. Nose buried into your ribs as he held your tummy to his chest. Underneath the nauseating clean hospital smell, the iron and baby wipes. You smelled like you, the very base smell of your whole being was there.

"Stevie?" Your hands carded through his hair at the base of his neck, his nose nuzzled twice into your skin until he inhaled deeply.

"Yes?" yawning through the question, eyes finding yours above him. His chin resting on your sternum, one eye winking when his neck popped at the stretch.

“I’m here, I can’t go anywhere. You could just rest your eyes for a bit." You squeezed his cheeks in your palms, making his nose scrunch in a pout. "Maybe even use the shower to relax your body. Or just come back over here,” You tugged him with you as you shifted back in the bed, leaving room for him to lay back next to you. He inclined his head to you succumbing to your plea, relieved that you could finally rest together. Laying on his side next to you, this time immediately closing his eyes and holding your hand to his chest. Rubbing his index finger over your wedding ring to sooth himself to sleep. You were still slightly upright so he nuzzled into your shoulder as his pillow source. His hair tickled your bare neck when he shifted closer.

“I love you so much, thank you.” whispering to him after his breathing deepened. Sleep came to you shortly. It felt like minutes when you were woken up for your next walk. Nearly knocking Steve unconscious so he would stay and rest. The comforting Nurse from the night before returning, confident they would release you late in the morning. There were some other issues that worried them you'd come back for checkups after discharge but you were doing well. Moving alone but assistance was recommended for strenuous activities like lifting. Six weeks starting for any very strenuous ones, like it was even a consideration presently. Despite how much you loved your husband, and loved loving him. It was just past 7 when you returned to the room, Steve gone from the bed. Knocking on the bathroom door after the nurse left, the sound of water running behind it with heat radiating from the frame.

“Yeah one second,” A squeak turned it off and there was rustling before Steve cracked the door open, a towel draped around his waist just below his V-line of his pelvis. “Hey you're not supposed to be up without someone around.” He opened the door the rest of the way revealing his whole chest and arms. Water still clung to his hair, all of his hair, it took everything in you not to look down past his pecs. The trail of dark hair shading his soft tummy begging you to run your hands along it.

“Um earth to Y/N?” ‘How has his towel not fallen, shit he’s talking to me’ He waved his hand in front of your face, the other still holding the door.

“Sorry, I’m out of it I got back from walking. So I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” You lied, still tracing the water droplets cascading along his skin.

“Yes, I’m feeling much more like myself. If you want to sit on the toilet, I could help you wash your hair after I get dressed?” you contemplated his offer, it sounded so wonderful. You still reeked of grease from your shift the day before yesterday, along with something metallic and sterile soap from your gown.

“Yeah… Please?” You felt ashamed, ears flush at the intimacy. The guilt filed in soon after. Having him worry so much, wasn't he just as burdened with emotion as you were.

“Okay sit I’ll be right back,” You put on a smile, be strong for him if no one else. He came back into the bathroom in loose sweatpants without a shirt, your eyes went wide again. “See anything you like?” He started doing ridiculous poses in the doorway to make you laugh.

"You are so corny!" You laughed, throwing a hand towel at him.

"Hey, you were totally checking me out. I still got it, bab-, Shit soap!” He skipped back out into the main room. There was a rustle of items before he appeared again with a toiletry bag. Joyce had packed for the two of you. A frown etched its way back along your face as your eyes burned with unshed tears. He filled a small tub with warm water, looking around he found a clean cup to use. He hummed a Depeche Mode song as he went.

“Steve.” You hiccupped, hands shaking in your lap finger wringing together.

“Yeah?” He asked without looking, head rocking with music only he could hear. His head whipped around when he heard you sniffle when his eyes meet yours his face fell, devastated.

"I'm sorry." You croaked out before he could ask. Tears flooding from your eyes, creating a puddle on your collar.

' I'm so sorry Steve. I don't know what's wrong with me." You gasped out through shaking sobs, clinging to him when he dropped to hold you. Torso cradled between your thighs,

' Maybe if we had gotten here sooner like you said, she-." Steve's breath stuttered, the air around you tightened as you remember being so excited. For her.

' We would've been okay. I didn't listen, this is all my fault." You shake, pulling away from him, clutching at your thighs with clammy hands. Steve brushed the hair out of your face, thumbs wiping your tears as he observed you. You were panicking, hyperventilating enough that your face and chest blushed red.

"Breathe, my love. Breathe, in-and-out." His hands moved up and down your arms, squeezing at your biceps to the tips of your fingers. "Let it all out, I got you. 'M here." He exaggerated his breaths until yours were more controlled, "I love you. We'll be okay, just like you said. One thing at a time. Remember, we still have a healthy baby waiting for us at home. Yeah? And I will always be here, we got this."

"What-what if I can't, Steve?"

"You can do anything, baby. I've seen it. This might be too soon but you made Jesus's miracle of parting the red sea look like horse play." He wiped your eyes again, everything was starting to clear again. Now you could see the tears streaming down his face, the smile didn't reach the honey of his sunken eyes.

"What if this was it? What if I can't have more babies. Our dream of a big family can't happen... Because of me?" You said with a dark edge, it was your fear since Dr. Kerr first saw you while pregnant with Teddy. Steve chortled, a quiet suppressed laugh as he pinched his nose and sniffed the remaining tears away.

"Then we'll adopt or do that other stuff like Dr. Kerr said. Hey, look at me." Steve squished your cheeks, thumbs running along your cheekbones. "I would rather selfishly keep you all to myself. Edmund can buy his time." You sniffled quickly, sharp enough it could be mistaken for a laugh.

"This is all temporary, Sweets. It's okay for us to be sad."

"Okay." You exhaled,

"I love you so unexplainably much. I love Edmund so unconditionally it physically hurts." He brought a fist to his chest, taking a deep breath with closed eyes. "We loved this baby so much, she just wasn't ready yet. And that's okay, I'll love and remember everything I learned from her."

"And what's that?"

"That I would rather go through this heartbreak 100 times a day, then ever-ever loose you. I want to take away all your pain and suffering for myself. Give me all of it, I can take it. As long as you're still here with me."

"I love you."

"I love you most."

"Not possible."

"Alright come on, Mama's, this linoleum is not forgiving on my working man knees. Turn back around and let me make you feel better."

"Is that a threat or promise?" You giggled, palms wiping at the hollow of your eyes.

"You know exactly what these hands are capable of Sweets." Steve said with a salacious grin and wiggle of his fingers, his gold wedding band glimmering under the florescent light. He washed your hair with immense care, taking the time to massage and scrub at the scalp.

"Hmm, thank you." You said after he helped wring it mostly dry. He pressed a warm kiss to your wet forehead, "Steve?"

"Yeah?" His eyebrows shot up as he hovered over you, standing abruptly. Holding one of your elbows with an open palm,

"Moses parted the red sea, not Jesus." You commented, and Steve belly laughed hard enough for you to crack another smile.

"See, I can't live without ya! There's not much underneath my perfect quaffed hair."

He gave you the privacy to freshen up other areas, but when stepping out he was half laying on the bed. With his feet still on the ground, eyes closed. You made it over to the chair before getting a little woozy, Joyce had packed a ton of options but there was no way you were getting these on by yourself. Steve’s watch went off and he immediately jumped up, putting on the shirt that was in his hands. Crossing the room stopping at the bathroom knocking. He hadn’t looked at the chair until he opened the door and looked around to find the small stall empty.

“Jesus why didn’t you call for me?”

“Was feeling rebellious, also you passed the hell out and if I don’t have too, there’s no need for me to wake you.” you twist a little bit too much adjusting yourself in the chair, causing you to moan in pain clutching your sides. 

“Hey careful,” Steve walks over to you and squatting in front of you, “tell me how to help.”

“I want to change into big girl clothes, I’d feel weird if the kids came by and saw my ass out still in the hospital gown.” You griped,

"I wouldn't mind in the slightest."

"Steve-"

"So I should stick to granny panties? Throw all the others away?" You challenged playful smirk on your lips, the smile finally met his eyes after a day of tears the brown shown with happiness. Warming through his heart, you pressed your hand to hold onto that pulse. It soothed your woes and added kindling to the hearth in your heart. When he pulled you from the chair, you felt weightless, oozing with molten love for your family. Everything would be okay.

"What? I can admire my beautiful wife in a diaper and nothing else." He scoffed offended holding your hand to his chest.

"Pfft honestly, who needs underwear? We're living in the 90s, baby!" Steve held you through the giggles. He would never leave your arms again if you let him.

Masterlist

Steve Harrington

Part one

[broke-art-girl]

"Lily." By Broke_Art_Girl

Fandom: Stranger Things

Summary:

Steve Harrington comes back to Hawkins with a purpose.

Or

Steve Harrington has a child with Eddie Munson that he doesn't know about, when the child is 4 months old Steve Harrington comes back to ask if Eddie wants to be her father.

Words: 9k+

Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Original character child of Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove. Original character child of Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington. The Party (stranger things) Corroded Coffin (stranger things) Max Mayfield, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Will Byers.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54582946/chapters/138304279

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Darkest Desire

Based off of this nonnie request! It’s a bit scarier than intended and I do apologise for that teehee. There’s also no smut…

Blurb: With a group of friends you visit the local Halloween Scare walk, an event that is hosted annually out in the creepy plaines of Hawkins and whilst it’s masks on for the locals, it’s very much masks off for the scare actors…

Pairing: Scare Actor!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, the holiday of Halloween is mentioned, talk of blood/gore, faux blades/knives, cursing, reader is referred to as girl, use of pet names, degrading, praising, stalking (cat&mouse), sly/cocky and slightly mean!Eddie. Characters are all 20+

-

divider by @reveriesources

Crunchy dry blood orange leaves litter the earth and frost tainted wind nips at your nose and cheeks. The squeals of excited children racing by your costume clad frame fills your ears with immense joy and you giggle airily as they launch themselves into one another. Racing toward the brightly lit luminescent funfair games in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a bag.

Their parents lug behind them, their attire consisting of some makeshift costume they had thrown together at the last minute in hopes of pleasing their tiny humans and earning themselves a quiet car ride without any tantrums or fuss.

Your group, on the other hand, weren’t here for the childish and conning games. You were all here for the Scare Walk.

You hadn’t agreed on a coherent group costume so it was a pick and mix of totally different genres and ideas and from an outside perspective it was abundantly clear that there was no communication on the matter whatsoever.

Steve was dressed as the main character from Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy Kruger. Nancy clearly had helped with the makeup aspect of the costume assemble but everything else screamed Harrington. He cropped the stripped knitted jumper to better suit his athletic frame and his hair was still very much classic Steve.

Robin had taken a whole new approach, dressing up as the colourful Rubik’s Cube puzzle toy. Deriving inspiration from the colourful squares she wore a long black jumpsuit covered in humongous reflective and vibrant square sequins. She more resembled a neon glitter ball, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Nancy’s body was hugged by a khaki green boiler suit that had the long legs cut off and on her back she wore a black backpack with some DIY altercations made to it. She has begged Mike to help her create her costume, and that’s how she ended up dressed as a Ghostbuster, putting a strong feminine spin on the male dominated film. You hadn’t expected anything less from Nance, she was always looking for ways to empower women and her costume made you smile. Proud.

Jonathan had chosen a much whackier costume to better fit with his personality. The pungent smell of weed radiating from his body only complimented the fluorescent green costume he was wearing and the radioactive orange bandana blindfolded over his eyes. He had opted for the beloved character from the children’s series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, Michelangelo. Which shouldn’t have surprised you— but it did.

And finally, you had chosen something distinctively different from your friends. You had made the bold choice to go as a flapper girl from the 1920’s, inspired by Fitzgeralds novel The Great Gatsby. It was a bold move because you paired the costume with kitten heels and although they were small you knew by the end of the night your feet would be crying out for rest. It is a Scare Walk after all. Your body was adorned by glitter and lace and the fringe of your dress tickled at the exposed skin of your legs.

It was a bit chilly tonight, but you were having too much of a ball to really hone in and pay attention to the sharp gusts of wind. Steve and Robin were arguing over whose costume was more original and whilst Robin’s was, Steve always somehow managed to argue himself into being ‘right’.

“Talk to me when you have hand sewn a bazillion sequins onto something and not just took a pair of shears to a ratty old sweater.” Robin remarks with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest and marching ahead of Steve.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it was surprisingly difficult to cut this thing into a straight line— and it isn’t ratty or old, I literally bought it like two days ago.” Steve fires back with a squinted gaze as he follows closely behind Robin’s reflective beacon of light that seems to lead us through the dimness. Nancy grumbles inwardly to herself.

“Can you two stop bickering like babies? We’re here to have fun! So let’s go and do that!” She hooks her arm with yours, charging forward, “I heard that some people from campus are working here this year. I don’t know what they’re doing but isn’t that exciting? We might bump into them!” You admired how Nancy could make a good situation out of everything, however you didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for meeting people you already knew. Nancy was all about making and strengthening connections whereas you wanted to just have fun— judgement free.

And now that you knew that your peers were watching your every move you couldn’t help but feel your confidence shrink slightly and your words clam up. Dying in your throat before they could ever be heard aloud.

-

The walk started off relatively slow and rather boring. You kept mistaking your dress tickling your calf’s as insects running up the skin of your legs and Robin would giggle at the way your head was constantly shooting downward.

“You seem awfully jittery— is someone scared already?” She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows at you and grinning widely as she did.

You scoff in response, “Please. I’m nearly dozing off back here.”

An eerie dark silence falls over the group and the golden haze from the spooky funfair starts to fade into the background behind you as you venture further and deeper into the doom and gloom of night fall.

The smell of sweet popcorn no longer lingers in the hairs of your nostrils and a sinister chill runs down the back of your spine; like fingers tickling your bare skin.

“Are we sure we are sticking to the trail? It’s getting pretty dark out here— OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Two little girls dressed in bloody dresses and horrifying makeup charge toward you from a nearby hidden brush. Their eyes glow a disturbing shade of white and they hold faux knives that still look devilishly real. You stumble backwards, nearly collapsing from shock however before you could fall to the ground you feel a hard body hit your back which makes you scream out in terror.

The figure laughs at you, jeering and sharp as you whip around to meet him and your hand is quick to find your chest. Your fingers claw at the fabric of your dress and you fist the fabric with a shaky grip. You’re panting, struggling for breath and the skull painted face looms over you for a moment too long; cocking his head to the side as he examines your costume.

That’s when you realise something. Something that you immediately recognised as a dark secret. A dark desire that should be kept hidden.

As his onyx orbs gleam and glare down at you, you feel a wave of heat feather your cold skin. Your core pulses between your thighs and your mouth hangs open in dreadful clarity; you were fucking turned on by this.

His chiselled face is painted to resemble a bare skull. White with inky dark circles that deepen his eye sockets and his cheekbones are defined with thick blended shadowy lines. His lips are painted black to match his contours and he has hand drawn on a stretched toothy smile and an empty nose cavity.

He doesn’t speak a single word.

He just stares at you. Almost as if he is furious with you.

And before long he drags himself away from you, like the simple task is deemed painful and impossible for him.

His torso is dressed in a fitted white button down shirt which is rolled up to his elbows and it exposes his tattooed forearms. On his legs he wears a simple but professional pair of black trousers paired with black suspenders that sling over his shoulders. On his feet he has combat boots supporting his ankles and some sort of padded device strapped around the joint of his knees.

You gawk at him as he skates across the concrete on his knees at an alarmingly fast rate toward another group of poor people; leaving sparks of light in his dust as they squirm and scream. Some of them even go as far to sprint off into the darkness away from him; which leaves the masked man cackling darkly and running after them.

“Holy shit! I had no idea he would be working here this year!” Steve slaps the palm of his hand onto your shoulder as he chuckles heavily and you pull away from him confused and slightly annoyed.

“Who is ‘he’ and how do you know him?” Steve’s laughter dies out slowly and his hands come to rest on his hips. A stance that he did often. The rest of the gang come to join you with curious expressions on their faces.

“Seriously? You don’t recognise him?” There’s a pause as you shake your head ‘no’ and Steve rolls his amber eyes dramatically, “That’s Eddie Munson, dipshit. He’s always smoking weed out in the courtyard on campus? Playing with the fire from the benson burner during chemistry— is this ringing any bells?” You shrug, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

Is Eddie Munson someone you should know about?

“He has long, curly hair— not better than mine but hey, it’s definitely up there.” Steve’s hand smooths over his slicked back hair that is thick with gel and you laugh, now being able to form an image of Eddie in your mind.

“Ohh, the metal head? He sometimes walks around with his guitar slung over his back?” You reply as you begin to walk off after realising that you have all come to a stand still— and partially because you want to see Eddie again.

“Yeah! He is wicked with a guitar! I’ve seen him play.” Robin chirps from your left and Nancy hums on your right.

“He is pretty good.” Jonathan speaks through a mouthful of candy and you try to disguise your disgust as you unfortunately get a glimpse of the food on his tongue.

“Right…” is all you quietly reply as your eyes scan the bluish darkness. You can hear an owl hooting off in the distance and if it weren’t for the jump scares waiting for you, you would find this promenade quite peaceful.

Crickets whisper conversations from the tall blades of grass and you can see lanterns dotted up ahead of you. They cast ghoulish shadows all around the dirt path and your head twitches from side to side— trying to catch any of the silhouettes moving.

But they don’t.

You have strayed further ahead of the group, their voices hitting your ears in the form of muffled sounds but you don’t bother to wait on them. They are too busy laughing and booing at some of the scare actors whereas your heart is still palpitating at a ridiculous rate from the last scare.

Some of the actors were so gruesomely scary that you felt transported into your favourite slasher films whereas the others were just looming and ominous— more human. Humans are the scariest creatures after all. You fear your own kind in opposition to the unknown.

That’s why when the familiar skull skates over to you on his knees, you freeze this time. No fight or flight; just freeze. Your mouth gaping wide as his nose nearly brushes yours.

“Eddie.” His name is a breathless squeeze from your lungs as it leaves your mouth. You have to say his name aloud in order to ground your thundering heart. Were you excited or frightened? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Whatever it was, the man stood in front of you wasn’t best pleased. His eyes narrow into irritated slits and his fingers toy with a piece of your hair— twirling it before yanking on it playfully.

Steve, Nancy, Robin and Jonathan all sprint past you in urgency. They screaming until their throats run raw as a deranged man with a faux chainsaw chases after them. Hot on their heels.

You and Eddie go unnoticed by them… and now…

Now you feel afraid.

“Y’know you aren’t supposed to address the actors personally, right?” He sneers through a tight jaw.

“He speaks.” You quip back sassily and Eddie huffs a distorted laugh.

“I’ve seen you around campus— even prettier up close. It’s a shame your attitude ruins that.” He circles you like a shark in water and you follow him. Twirling around makes you dizzy but Eddie’s chuckle makes your dizzier.

“Like a little lost lamb.” He coos, “Where are your cronies? Seems they’ve ditched.” His glove clad knuckle grazes your cheek and you flinch away from his soft touch. Taking a few steps back you widen the close distance between the two of you.

This causes Eddie to grin hugely; showing all of his teeth as he did.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now?” He prowls toward you however you are quick to match every one of his steps. He takes a stride forward? You take a step back.

“You could run away if you wanted… but that’ll only entice me more. Didn’t they tell you? I love the chase.” His voice is a low animalistic growl and you couldn’t understand if this was Eddie or his character talking to you. Was this all an act or was he genuinely this menacing?

“I thought you actors weren’t supposed to get this close to the public…” You hunch your shoulders upward toward your ears as you cower away from his stalky frame and he stares through you; the gears in his head turning.

You shift on the balls of your feet uncomfortably and your skin blazes beneath his intense gaze.

“You’re blushing.” He says matter of factly and suddenly you feel the need to straighten your posture and try to get as far from him as possible.

“I am not.” The lie is pathetic as it meets the frosted air and Eddie smiles eerily.

“It’s the makeup, isn’t it? You like the makeup.” His head strains back on his neck as he lets out a loud laugh, “Fuck— that’s pathetic. You must be into some really weird shit.”

“I- that’s absurd!! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You squeal and slink your arms around your torso. Partially because you were cold but also to be protective and assertive of yourself, “You don’t even know me—“ Eddie interjects, his finger tapping impatiently against his painted lips.

“Shhhh.” You feel the soft grain of his leather gloves as they tickle your skin and Eddie’s hands fully embrace your bare shoulders, “It’s okay— I like your costume too, I suppose.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I mean, it’s a bit outdated and boring but hey, you look good.” He flashes you a teasing wink that is nearly enough to make your lungs implode with lack of oxygen.

“Goodbye, Munson.” You swivel on your kitten heels and briskly find the frozen dirt path again. Your head involuntarily looks over your shoulder, trying to catch sight of Eddie one last time as you leave him behind but to your total disadvantage the metal head was no longer standing where you had left him.

He too, had taken off.

And unbeknownst to you, you had just pressed play on one of Eddie Munson’s all time favourite games; Cat and mouse.

-

It was getting later and later with every passing second and you couldn’t find your friends anywhere. You had last seen them run off whilst laughing and screaming in total horror but you hadn’t seen them since.

Had they actually ditched you and went home?

Once the thought infiltrated your psyche you contemplated on cutting the scare walk short and heading back to the funfair to search for them. However, going back meant that you had to go alone and there was something devilish about that.

To your left, through a thick canvas of sweetgum trees you can hear the owl again. Hooting softly— a sound that should calm your nerves but instead it tugs on them viciously. It’s more like an emergency siren warning you. A sign for you to run and to never look back.

A man made whistle slices through the chirping of the birds and it cuts at your skin like the edge of a blade. You look left and right, frantically dancing in circles as you try to determine where it’s coming from; but you are met with nothingness.

“Eddie, if that’s you then cut it out! This isn’t funny!” Your fingernails pinch at your skin as you begin to walk panicked in the opposite direction. Never paying attention to what’s in front of you, your gaze always trailing off to the side and behind you.

That’s when you see him— the skull peering at you from a dark line of trees in the distance. Your feet come to a staggering stop as you eye him. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was Eddie really staring back at you or were you deluding yourself?

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you watch him emerge from the greenery. Before your brain can compute what your body is doing you are running; charging into the fullness of the forest.

Tree branches whip and rip at your skin, causing it to redden and sting. You wince but you continue soldiering on, your shoulders barge through sticks and nettles and thorns.

Your mind had convinced you that this was real. That you were being chased by a psycho.

“Hey— hey, stop!! It’s okay! Wait—“ Eddie is close behind you, crunching twigs beneath his boots but you are quicker than he is; more frightened and resilient to get as far from him as possible. For your own safety.

“Sweetheart! Stop!” You can hear him getting frustrated as he trudges through the cluttered landscape but you can see lights shining in front of you, just up ahead, and it causes you to force your legs to quicken. Desperate to reach there.

But just before you explode onto the funfair grounds your legs give way beneath you and you crash to the ground. The palms of your hands scrape against the jagged forest floor and your dress rips against a spiked log. You thought this shit only happened in the movies— but tonight you were proven wrong.

You look behind you and your eyes well up with tears of both pure adrenaline and fear at Eddie propelling himself toward you.

You bring up your hands around your head to protect yourself as you shrink back onto the floor, over the fact that your hair is full of pine needles and your knees are scraped and bleeding.

Eddie crouches by your side, a deep frown on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay…” Eddie bites off his leather gloves and throws them to the soft earth. He is gentle to pry your cold hands away from your muddied face and he hisses quietly at the temperature of your skin compared to his. He examines the palms of your hands tenderly, “Ouch… this must hurt. What were you thinking?”

Your foolishness almost causes Eddie to laugh, but after witnessing the genuine anxiety plaguing your features he decides not to.

“It was too real.” You blubber, letting out a dampened sob and Eddie’s heart pangs with guilt and sorrow, “I couldn’t find anyone and… and I saw you and I just couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere, let me help you up.” Eddie is crouched down, his knees bent as he braces himself in front of your shaking frame. He outstretches his hands toward you and you take them hesitantly.

Thanks to Eddie’s strength he pulls your weak body up to meet his with ease and he hold you against his chest. Breathing softly as he tries to calm your laboured and nervous breaths.

“I really am sorry… it’s just me, ‘Kay? I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He peppers comforting pecks into your hair and your nails claw at the back of his shirt, “It must’ve been pretty scary; being out there all alone with me.”

You nod, your mind finally calming at the sound of his lulling and gentle voice.

“I do like the makeup.” Your confession is meek and muffled against his chest, “I think there must be something wrong with me.” You laugh, managing to pull away his chest and look at him much more confidently now.

“Not at all,” Eddie grins, “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. Very normal— it might even be considered vanilla to some people out there.” Although you have removed yourself from the skull painted man’s chest, the closeness between the both of you remains the same.

The truth was; Eddie had always admired you. Your intelligence and your cunning. You were beautiful, which was the cherry on top of your infectiously bright personality. He had noticed you at the beginning of the academic year and he was too chicken to talk to you. You both were connected through Steve but Steve never really paid attention to Eddie’s longing and begging looks toward you.

But Steve didn’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Because you could see it for yourself. You could see beneath the intricate paint on his face that Eddie felt something for you. You weren’t sure what it was; lust, a crush or plain friendship but you could see it. Feel it.

“You must think I’m a total freak.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I am the biggest freak to have ever lived.” Eddie lets out a giddy chuckle and his hands continue to rest lightly around your body. You welcome his lingering touch and his nearness. It felt familiar. Nice.

“We both look like weirdos standing out here in the dark.” Your eyes scan around the auburn horizon of tall trees and a soft smile rests on your smudged lipstick covered lips, “People are going to think we’ve been up to no good.”

Eddie smiles, his hand coming to stroke your cheek gently and tuck some of your rouge hair behind your ear, “With how windswept your hair is, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You both stand there, the air is clouded with electrifying tension and you can’t think of anything else other than how badly you want him to kiss you.

“I wanna take you out… on a date.” His hands cup your face, “When I’m not this caricature. I’ll just be me and you will be you. You won’t have to run from me…” His cold nose brushes the tip of yours, “I won’t have to chase you.” You can smell mint and nicotine on his breath and you have never been more intoxicated by anything in your entire life.

“What’d ya say, sweet girl? Let me take you somewhere nice so I can kiss you properly at the end of the night?” There is a slight desperation to his voice and you bite your lip to suppress a wide smile.

“I’d like you to chase me, Eddie. Chase me with daisies and a boombox and your guitar. You won’t have to run after me for long…” You are dangerously close to him now, your breath quickening as you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self control not to eat his entire mouth with yours, “Take me anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

“I will.” He promises.

“And kiss me at the end of the night?” You are desperate yourself now, your eyes sparkling with moonlight as you look up into his shadowy hues.

“I will.” He strokes your hair so delicately; like you are the most precious thing he has ever handled, “I promise.”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.6K]

THE TIMELINE

“Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a ‘matching half’ of a human whole…and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him.”

- Aristophanes, Plato’s Symposium.

I. ATHENS, GREECE: 8TH CENTURY BC

The gods were angry.

Or so you’d heard. It started with whispers. Murmurs from the town and its people. Rumours spread across Athens the same way the breeze did at the start of summer. They said the gods were angry, furious.

How could the mortals be so silly? How could they possibly rile their gods like this? Again?

Stupid humans, foolish humans.

You didn’t understand.

But then one morning before the sun rose, you awoke to a reddened sky and a heavy wind, a storm brewing over the horizon, a dark mass you could see above the sea from your bedroom window. Preachers took to the streets then, standing on the cobbles with bells ringing above their heads, warning every person listening about the end of times. It had happened before, they said, their faces masks of horror. It was happening again.

The gardens all died, grass turning black, crops to dust, life fleeing from the ocean as Poseidon uprooted the seafloor, waves crashing against the cliff's edge. Athens turned to decay, colour slipping from the world as the gods ruled over it from the skies and sea. A punishment fit for the crime, the elders said, telling stories at the marketplace, of how their own grandparents had once been born together, joined at the heart, four arms and four legs.

One soul.

They said Zeus came from Olympus, that he’d crashed down to earth riding a bolt of lightning and he ripped the mortals apart. They said it was a bloodshed, rivers of red running through the plazas, wells turning thick like tar.

Zeus cursed everyone, you heard. Your kind had been getting too prideful, too full of ego and greed and want for more. The gods feared an uprising, they sat on their thrones and they resented to power you all craved.

So they did something about it.

With their wounds left to heal on their own over months and years, each half of a mortal was thrown to different corners of the earth, destined to spend the rest of their lives searching for the other half of their soul.

It seemed nothing more than a fable, a horror story for children, something you would never have believed. Soulmates? Someone made just for you? An impossible notion, you were sure you would have once thought, if you hadn’t already met yours.

He was at the forge when the first bolt of lightning hit the ground.

The concrete split and temples on the cliff sides shook, the tiles on each home shattering as they fell. You heard people yelling from your garden as the ground shuddered and an eerie quiet followed. A hollow silence, a calm before a storm and then something else hit the ground too.

Bigger, heavier, more powerful.

You dropped your basket and ran.

Still barefoot, you left the sodden clothes on the grass and fled, passing the sanctuary of your home, the temples beyond the rivers, the forests that came before the sea. You ran to the plaza, through the marketplace that was buzzing with fear, shoulders burning with pain as you slammed your way past everyone who ran against you. You were battling a tidal wave of townsfolk, each one crying and yelling.

You heard shouts of Titans! Furies!

People yelled out names they once didn’t dare whisper, each word said like a curse. Cronus, Crius, Oceanus, Thea. Standing on the marble steps of the Parthenon, a preacher in guided robes had blood running down the side of his face, a cut on his head matting his greying hair. He was ashen, clutching at his scribes and shouting at the frenzied crowd below.

“Tartarus has risen!” He yelled, “the gates of Hades have opened and we, foolish mortals, shall pay for our sins! The father of gods shall come for us, he shall feast upon thy flesh and bone and—”

The preacher's harrowing words were cut off abruptly as another crack in the earth opened up. The shining marble split and the man fell through, the world itself swallowing him whole. You didn’t have time to react more than a strangled cry coming from somewhere deep in your chest. You clasped your hand to your mouth, fearing you’d lose your breakfast, that you’d become too dizzy to keep moving.

The ocean was growing closer, too tall waves and swirling, dark pools buried into its depths. Ships were being sucked under, their white sails the last thing you saw before they were swallowed by Poseidon’s fury. A golden chariot raced down from the sky, sparks flying in the air as it landed on the roof of the Acropolis. More marble shattered and Ares, the god of war, had landed on earth to do his duty.

By the time you reached the forge, the plaza was running red, just like the elders had said it would. The bronzed statue of Hephaestus that guarded the entrance to the blacksmiths had come to life, the god himself taking its form as he spewed fire across the village, molten heat and steel dripping from his large hands, coal crumbling at his feet. The air smelled like ash, like fire and death.

As you searched for him - your other half - eyes wide and frantic, your chest heaving, Hades stood in the shadows across the cobbled road. Inky black dripped from him, from his robes, his skin, his mouth. He looked ghoulish until he stepped into what was left of the daylight, a trick of the sun turning his gaunt face handsome. He grinned at you, each tooth pointed and sharp and he held out a hand. A pomegranate was placed in his palm, the fruit cracked open and the ruby seeds spilling out of it like tiny jewels. He beckoned you, a voice in your head whispering, silky, sultry, full of promises that couldn’t be real.

Surely eternal damnation was better than a fate like this?

You moved, your body not your own, one foot in front of the other, your hand outstretched. Images flashed through your head, dark swirls of three headed dogs, rivers made of souls and gates of bones. But when they opened, there was a garden, more beautiful than the ones in Athens, with their marble pillars and fountains that led into ponds. In this garden, temples stood gleaming and tall, with maidens dancing amongst rose bushes, naked and with hair to their waists. They waved to you, more scarlet coloured fruit held in their hands and they were laughing, singing, pulling you closer--

Another bolt of lightning - bigger and louder and brighter than before - hit the ground and the maidens disappeared. The god of the underworld grinned once more before he stepped back into the shadows and turned to smoke, melting into the bloodied ground.

Zeus had landed in Athens.

And you couldn’t find Steve.

Steve Harrington, son of the town’s head blacksmith, was tending to the forge when the first god came to earth. He’d left you in bed, the threadbare sheets around you still warm, your skin littered with his leftover kisses, marks from his greedy fingers the night before. The sky had been scarlet when he walked across the plaza and in the far distance, a plume of smoke rose from what seemed like the ocean. The Methana volcano was simmering, waiting, spewing fumes of gas and dust.

A warning.

The forge cracked when Zeus arrived, the bricks splitting along with the forge floor, cobbles and bricks turning to rubble under the men’s feet. Fire and coal tumbled from the cast iron cages, half made swords of burning steel falling at their feet. The sky above rumbled, the windows shattering as bolts of lightning hit the land and people screamed, torturous sounds that made Steve run blindly out into the plaza.

Some were kneeling, their heads bent and their palms open to the sky, to the gods. A sacrifice that was ignored. Others ran, diving into buildings that immediately fell on top of them and Steve watched in horror as people dropped before him, falling like sacks, crumpled to the ground as they clutched their chests in agony. They called out their lovers' names, their voices hoarse, pleading, desperate and all at once, a crowd surged behind Steve, carrying him with them, his shoulders burning at the momentum.

He had to find you.

The market was in ruins, once fresh vegetables and fruits now smashed into the concrete, the smell of baked bread hidden under burning embers. Panicked horses fled their owners and carts, almost knocking Steve to the ground as they tried to escape the carnage. The sea level was rising, the shadows of boat sails towering over marble buildings, the hulls of ships teetering closer to pillars that once held the statues of the gods now seeking revenge. Steve had been raised to honour them, to covet them, to fear them.

And he’d never felt as scared as he did when he spotted you across the square, eyes wide and not yet finding his, your gaze too trained on the statue of Aphrodite that was crashing down too close to you. The white marble hit the floor and shattered, sending clouds of dust and dirt into the already smoke filled air and you disappeared from Steve’s sight once more.

Panic flooded him, a fear like no other and suddenly the gods that reigned from the seas and skies didn’t seem as terrifying anymore.

He yelled your name, choking on the fumes from the fires that had started to rage all around, Hephaestus riding a cloud of black coals and burning embers as he let fire pour from his palms and open mouth, a gaping maw of molten lava that dripped from and melted everything and everyone it touched. Steve flung himself to the ground to avoid the flames, crawling desperately forward before he caught himself and began to run again, hissing as the gaps in his shoes filled with shards of broken stone. Red poured from the soles of his feet but he didn’t think anything could hurt as much as the thought of losing you.

Again, he screamed for you, the letters of your name hitching in his throat, scratching like glass and more people tore in front of his path, running from the destruction. Bodies fell before him, couples forever trapped in a lovers embrace, their faces hidden in each other's chests. They became one again, four arms, four legs, two faces.

Joined at a heart that was no longer beating.

Steve didn’t want to die without you.

He found you in the rubble as Zeus moved closer, a grey and white shadow of a man, a huge hulking figure that didn’t seem real. He didn’t look like his marble castings, the statues that were gilded with gold leaf. He wore no olive laurel on his head, he bore no kind smile nor gentle eyes. Instead he held bolts of lightning in his hands like swords, like spears, throwing them at his victims with cruel precision.

A storm followed him, bigger than anything Steve had ever seen before. It turned the red clouds above the god purple and black, an inky slurry of darkness and electricity crackled between spaces. The air buzzed and Steve’s skin prickled, the static making his ripped and bloodied shirt cling to his damp chest.

Poseidon had finally shown himself, emerging from the waves, his skin a sickly green, his eyes darker than the deepest depths of the sea he came from. He held a triton, seaweed hanging from its points, his body scarred and battered from the horrors he created in the oceans. He seemed too big, a giant, an almost titan and rain poured from Zeus’ purple clouds as he advanced onto Athens.

Steve saw your arm, a limp hand from beneath a pile of stone and he cried as he lifted each piece of what was once Aphrodite. The marble face of the goddess of love smiled warmly at him and it felt mocking, it felt like an arrow to the chest.

You were still alive, barely awake, nose dripping blood and a slice across your forehead that narrowly missed your eye. You cried when Steve pulled you free, his strong arms wrapped around your torso and you clung to him, barely daring to look at the horrors that surrounded you. He smelled like smoke and fire and the metal sting of blood, but under it all, there was something like home that still lay on his skin.

He seemed frantic, calling your name over and over until you nodded and said his back, like it was only upon hearing your voice that he believed you were alive. Steve sat amongst the debris of Aphrodite and held you, your weak frame pulled into his lap and he cradled you there, your head on his shoulder and your arms around his neck.

You weren’t sure what you coveted more fiercely, the young man or your last breath.

A shadow lingered nearby, listening to the soft murmurs you shared the pretty lies you both needed to hear as you told each other it would be okay. Hades stood close, statuesque and with black plumes at the bottom of his dark robes, a midnight blue cast over his skin. He looked like he’d never been close to looking human. He held a timepiece in one hand, a golden thing that ticked too loudly and he grinned at you and Steve, watching, waiting as two creatures by his feet held scrolls of names. They were made od nothing kind, created from bone and other people’s spines, their too long tails and forked tongues that flickered over the skin of the dead as they sent their souls below.

Steve knew he’d fight a god before he let them take you.

But he didn’t get such the luxury of battling for his lover. Zeus moved closer still, rain pouring harder, electricity making his hair stand on end. The father of gods himself stood tall before you both, his eyes as white as his long hair and beard. Nothing about him softened as he gazed down at you both intertwined, blood from each other staining your lover's skin.

Steve pulled you closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as he pushed your face to his throat, shielding you, protecting you. You clung to him tighter, hands fisting in the rags of his old shirt and you wondered if you’d ever get to see him again. If this life was it, if this was all you were allowed.

The two of you in the ruins of Athens, the goddess of love shattered at your feet. Four legs, four arms, two faces, one soul. Connected by a heart that seemed weaker than ever in the presence of something cruel.

Silence came before the crack, the world stilling, Athens at peace. You found solace in Steve, your nose pressed to his neck as you held onto him, praying for something painless. You pushed two kisses to his skin then, the side of his throat that seemed to make your lips fizz and Steve sucked in a breath, his lips at your temple, cherishing the last touch he got of you.

“I love you,” Steve whispered and his voice cracked on each word. Tears from his eyes stream the dirt on his face, running rivers down your cheek until they mixed with your own. “I’ll find you again. In the next life, and the next again. I prom—”

A bolt of lightning, so hot it felt frozen, struck the breath of space between your chests. Something inside of you cracked then, ribs splintering as the weapon found your heart and you couldn’t feel Steve’s arms around you anymore.

You couldn’t feel anything.

[percygranate]

⚠️PSA – ickybatz is back! Predators on AO3⚠️

⚠️TW for Mentions of Child Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, Minor Sexual Content, Pedophilia, GROOMING, and Pedophile Conversations. PLEASE read and reblog if you can.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: Demobatz is NOT ickybatz, also known as batty-ruski, battyrusk.

I made a mistake by assuming due to the names, and after being in contact with Demobatz, I edited the post. I apologize for this but don't fully regret calling them out, as it helped Demobatz realize they made a mistake and it brought a lot of attention to the issue of predators on AO3 and Tumblr.

In-depth explanation [HERE]!

This 13/16-year-old CHILD is out here asking for pedophilia requests and getting encouraged and groomed by predators.

I accidentally came across it, and I encourage you to report them and everyone interacting with their work. There is a difference between dark romance, dark fics, and straight-up romanticization of children being assaulted.

They write about these children actively partaking and enjoying it, hoping they can please the adult taking advantage of them. These works are clearly written for the type of person that gets off on it.

——— Update ———

Their way of writing to cope with past trauma was groomed and manipulated by predators on AO3.

——— Update ———

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

So much for “Oh, they are a traumatized child and made a mistake.” They now know it's wrong and continue doing it, even worse than before. And people continue to support it.

Their fucking apology was absolute bullshit. And everyone that came to their defense should be ashamed of themselves.

——— False Information | Demobatz isn't Ickybatz ———

↓ Here are AO3 accounts supporting this. ↓

Yes, they put warnings on their work and say “Don’t Like It, Don’t Read It!” But I would like to show you what they are writing, and how they are getting the attention of predators. I am sure you have to agree with me that they and everyone supporting this need to lose any type of platform they own. Demobatz should NOT be in any contact with these men.

⚠️They encourage each others to write this and Demobatz, A 13/16-YEAR-OLD, is actively putting themselves in danger by making “friends” for roleplay, and exchanging social media, with very likely, PEDOPHILES. They are actively getting groomed by people that know what they are doing.⚠️

——————————————————

↓These are their two original works↓

Financial Struggles — The summary says it all. But I feel like I should point out their conversation under their post.

Mother’s Milk — Sexual Assault of a male baby.

——————————————————

↓This is their work in the Stranger Things Fandom↓

Their work “Deceit” which is taking requests and actively posting has, as of May 21st, 16 Chapters.

1 — “Using this as a coping mechanism for my own trauma. Please request, any age is allowed❤️”

2 — Eddie Munson, 25 y/o | Reader, 17 y/o

3 — Uncle Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson | Reader, 6 y/o

4 — Eddie Munson, 20 y/o | Reader, 12 y/o

5 — Steve, 19 y/o & Eddie, 20 y/o | Reader, 14 y/o

6 — Dad Steve | Reader, 8 y/o

7 — Dad Steve & Eddie | Reader, 8 y/o

8 — Big Brother Steve | Reader, 4 y/o

9 — Big Brother Billy Hargrove | Reader, 6 y/o

10 — “Posting this so that you all can give me ideas on what to post next❤️ Anything is allowed/ age can be whatever you want♡♡!”

11 — Billy & Steve | Reader, 3 y/o

12 — Hopper & Joyce | Reader, 4 y/o

13 — !BILLY HARGROVE AND A NEWBORN BABY!

14 — Billy | Reader, 6 y/o & Max, 7 y/o

15 — “It hasn't been a week and I'm almost at 2,000 reads! Thank you all so much♡♡ Feel free to drop suggestions, request or even ideas/blurbs♡♡”

16 — Big Brother Eddie / Reader over the years, starting at 6 y/o

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They actively encourage pedophilia and put themselves on a silver platter for predators.

If you are still trying to justify these types of works, please do it off anon and openly so you can be blocked since you are part of the problem.

Do not send threats, bullying, or harassment their way. Block and Report.

If you know one or more of the interacting blogs, call them out.

⚠️UPDATE: 22nd of May⚠️

Dear fellow Bloggers, Demobatz pedophilia fic “Deceit” has been taken down!

Yet their two original works (mentioned above) are still there. I ask you to keep reporting them!

Demobatz is currently using Wit as their social media to exchange ideas for their CSA & incest Erotica, and worse, to roleplay with potential predators.

⚠️Update: May 25th⚠️

AO3 has removed their account or they deleted it themselves. Their Wit profile has been deleted.

Due to this post, my blogs keep getting shadowbanned and reported.

⚠️Update: May 26th⚠️

DEMOBATZ CONTACTED ME AND I CAN CONFIRM THIS APOLOGY TO BE REAL!

In-depth continuation and explanation [HERE]!

⚠️I turned off Reblogs as the original post with false information is still making rounds and therefore people are missing information.⚠️

[aphrogeneias]

no more tears — one-shot

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's halloween night, 1986. you want to celebrate your favorite holiday after the year you and your friends just had, but after being dumped by your, now ex, boyfriend a week before puts a damp on your plans. eddie munson, however, has a different plan for you.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentions of a past bad relationship, petty vengeance, protective!eddie, eddie being a sweetheart. eddie in a corset, eddie in leather pants (those are worthy warnings). drinking, smoking. implied smut towards the end.

author's note: happy, very early, halloween <3 i started writing this last year and originally, it was supposed to be a four-part series, and it became this one-shot. because of that, i'm sorry if it seems rushed, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Hawkins' suburban streets were a dull blur of white picket fences and houses that looked all the same, passing through the open windows of your car, despite the cold autumn wind blowing in. Even on Halloween night, where the air was full of childlike wonder and mischief, those same houses lit up with the same old seasonal decorations, the children going trick-or-treating, your school friends going out with the best of worst intentions. It all still felt dull to you. 

Perhaps because you felt that dullness deep inside of you, dead to the world around you. Fitting for such a morbid holiday — your favorite holiday, completely ruined by someone else's decisions.

Your self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by the curly-haired freshman who was currently inspecting the tapes piled in your glove compartment. You watched with interest from the corner of your eye as Dustin clicks the radio to a stop, without asking, and inserts your Blizzard of Ozz tape in the cassette player.

As the first chords of I Don't Know started echoing through the car, you teased, "Since when do you like these?"

"Since when do you care about what I listen to?"

Most days, you could deal with the kid's presumption, it was quite endearing, actually. That night, though, all you managed was to sigh as dramatically as you could.

"You've been hanging out with Munson a little too much." You pointed, "What's next? You're gonna grow out your hair like Mike is doing?"

"Mike isn't growing his hair out because of… Oh."

"You used to be more observant, Dusty."

You smiled at his silly expression, blue eyes wide with realization. It was the first time they could bring out a smile from you that evening, and you could tell that the teens in the backseat could feel the tension lift a little bit. 

The accidental mention of the metalhead made your mind wander once more. You wondered if you'd see him tonight, even if just for a moment, and if you'd be able to look and, perhaps, melt at one of his lazy smiles and cute dimples without feeling guilty for the first time since you met him. 

If being able to reciprocate Eddie Munson's lingering stares was the reward you got after being suddenly broken up with a week before Halloween, then you could start seeing an end to your current misery.

You didn't let yourself hang on to false hope, though. You were still nursing a broken heart and delusion wasn't going to help with it — but going home to a warm blanket, cheap wine and a bunch of horror movie VHS tapes that your Family Video friends had graciously delivered to your house after a very persuasive phone call.

After years of friendship, Steve Harrington still couldn't resist your pouting, even from a distance.

"Don't be mean. You're being awfully mean today, did you know that? Loosen up a little." Dustin snapped, but with little bite to his words.

You turned to him again, "Can you blame me?"

"Leave her alone, butthead." From her place in the backseat, Erica Sinclair, in her meticulously pink Barbie costume, interjects. "She's already doing us a favor and you're trying to be a smartass?"

Her older brother and Max Mayfield completely ignored Erica and Dustin's following little back and forth, stuck in their own little teenage love affair — and if, for only a moment, you were jealous of the easy, uncomplicated way they talked and held hands in the small space between their bodies, you shook it off just as quickly — as you winked at the youngest Sinclair from the rearview mirror.

You'd never tell anyone, but Erica had always been your favorite.

Their conversation was once again forgotten, overshadowed by your racing thoughts and eagerness to get home as soon as you could, until you parked in front of Steve's house, where your younger friends would enjoy their official party of their High School years. There had been a long time without any ragers at Harringtons', not since Steve became one of the losers, but after the events of last Spring, he thought we could all use some innocent (probably not that innocent on his side, god only knows that boy needed to get laid), spooky fun.

You'd thoroughly agreed before your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, put an end to all of your plans.

"Listen," you started, shutting the door of the driver's side of your car a little too violently while the kids gathered up outside, "if you get in any kind of trouble, call me. If you're gonna drink, or do any kind of drugs…" You're interrupted by groans and whines of 'really?' and 'we're not going to!', "don't do it alone, okay? And drink lots of water! Better safe than sorry, babies."

Most of that advice was just to mess with them, you knew they weren't anything like you when you were their age, but you cared too much about those miscreants to pretend that monsters and secret government organizations were the only obstacles they'd have to face in their teen years.

It's all a flurry of rolling eyes and quiet mumblings of "okay, whatever, we weren't gonna do any of that anyway" before they leave across the street to find the host of the party that was slowly, but surely, starting to fill in, groups of people coming into the house from both sides of the street, music echoing through the walls and into the evening air. Your heart clenched, heavy in your chest, wishing you could let go of the ache that was pulling you down and allow yourself to feel alive again, maybe just for one night.

You just about missed the pair of warm, brown eyes that watched you slouch back into your car and drive away.

On the other side of the street, Eddie Munson stood on the pristine front yard of the Harringtons' house, taking a long hit of his cigarette and rubbing the back of his hand over the eyeshadow spread on his eye, cursing and coughing when he realized the black stain it left behind on his skin.

He was uncomfortable and bored, listening to the deep bass line of Blondie's rapture coming from the house behind him, Debbie Harry's soft voice lulling him into a steady rhythm. He knew he was pushing it, coming to a place full of people, of people who half hated him at worst, half mistrusted him at best, even after his name was cleared. Worst of all, none of them understood his costume, which, to him, was the biggest insult of all.

Not knowing who Alice Cooper was supposed to be was one of the biggest treasons in his own, personal, Munson doctrine.

Now, he stood there, regretting every decision he had made that night, his leather pants pulling a little too tight on his legs and feeling a little too tempted to scrub the black eyeshadow from his face, thinking about a way to let his friends down gently when he bails on them.

His discomfort lasted until he saw your car pull up, and suddenly, leaving felt like a very, very bad idea.

Eddie was used to admiring you from a distance. From when he saw you for the first time, that fateful night at Reefer Rick's boathouse, it was all he could do without making a fool of himself. He didn't know how to carry himself around you, too caught up on your beauty, on your wit, or on how absolutely unattainable you were, to actually become close to you.

He watched you as one would watch the midday sun, high in the sky, with a hand in front of his eyes, protecting himself from being fully consumed by your light.

When you exited the car — Henderson, Mayfield and the Sinclairs following close behind — he noticed two things: your lack of a costume (or, rather, the fact that you were wearing something that was probably your pajamas, and looked incredible while at it), and the lack of a douchebag boyfriend beside you. 

Before he could walk over, perhaps use the kids as an excuse to talk to you, you left. Eddie was left halfway through the yard, a hand limp to his side as his cigarette laid long forgotten, and what must have been a ridiculous, confused expression on his face.

It didn't take long until Dustin and Erica found him, while Lucas and Max entered the house. 

"Hey, uh… where's Y/L/N going? Is she not… Is she not staying?" He swore he tried to act casual, but he knew from the expression on both his friends' faces that he wasn't doing a great job.

"Does it look like she's staying?" Erica crossed her arms, looking as intimidating as a little girl in all pink and glitter could look like. All he did was raise an eyebrow, and got one eyebrow raised right back at him.

Dustin was more understanding, in his Luke Skywalker costume, orange pilot suit and all. "She's not feeling well, man. Steve asked her if she could drive us because Nancy was already driving Mike and the Byers, but she went home."

"Oh." Again, he tried, to no avail, to hide the disappointment in his voice. Eddie Munson was, by no means, a good actor. "Do you know what happened?"

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but Erica beat him to the punch. "You know, I think she could really use some company tonight. No one wants to be alone on Halloween night, don't you think?"

She pulled Dustin away and towards the front door, eyes wise beyond her years giving him one final look before disappearing inside. 

Eddie knew she couldn't hear him as he screamed "I owe you one, Sinclair!" and rushed to the end of the street where his old van was parked, a sliver of hope and renewed excitement rushing through him like a live wire.

Scratch about what he said about regretting leaving his house that night, he had forgotten all about that as he sped to your place, a heavy guitar riff thundering hot on his trail.

You heard him before you saw him.

There was a horror film playing in your television, a blonde teenager running from a serial killer rolling on the screen, her terrified shrieks and the crescendo of the soundtrack filling the living room — not that you've been paying attention, you haven't been paying attention since a little after the beginning of the movie. You were too busy drinking your usual, cheap red wine straight from the bottle and stuck in your own thoughts, lying on the couch with only a blanket and your cat for company.

It approached slowly, the sound of his van's stereo. Then, it grew and grew, Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" seeming to echo through the entire neighborhood. It made you tumble out of the couch, feeling the effects of the alcohol rush to your head all at once, and running to the nearest window. You're still a tiny bit dizzy when you see him, after he stopped the engine and the music stopped, skipping out of the van and towards your front door.

You'd barely caught a glimpse of Eddie before you ran from the window, afraid to get caught. A million questions surged in that moment, the seconds between recollecting yourself and answering the loud ring of your doorbell, knowing who was waiting for you outside. How did he know you were home? Wasn't he busy tonight? What made him want to come to your place of all places?

All thoughts were cut short when you opened the door and saw him.

Under your front porch light, stood Eddie Munson, looking like every wet dream you had ever had.

Dressed in a tight, black tank top, a latex corset wrapped around his slim wait, and even tighter leather pants. Pale chest bare, it was the first time you were seeing his tattoos after visiting him at the hospital, months ago. He leaned in your doorway as soon as you opened it, a gentle smile in his full lips, brown eyes lined with a smudged layer of dark eyeshadow. Your legs might have given out if you didn't hold on to the wall. 

"Hey, Eddie." A greeting comes out as a gasp, letting out the breath that was stuck inside your throat. You hoped he couldn't tell how flustered you were, but if he did, you would blame the wine. "Is everything okay? Are the kids okay?"

It dawned on you that that must have been the reason he came all the way over to your house. You tried to bury down the wave of sudden anxiety when you watched his face fall slightly, before he replied “No, no, everything is fine. Uh… I just wanted to check on you, actually.”

The expression on your face — eyebrows pinched together in confusion — must have said it all, because then, he explained himself. “The littlest Sinclair said you might be needing some company tonight, but didn’t say why. I figured that if none of them were staying with you, then I might, if that’s okay.”

Eddie’s demeanor was uncharacteristically shy. He avoided your gaze, looking at the floor while speaking, but that only made you fonder — even then, he was still as sincere as always. Your heart did a little flip in your chest, warming you from the inside out, as you opened the door enough to let him pass, silently welcoming him in.

“Erica said that?”

“Yeah. Got me worried there for a second.” He eyed you with mirth from under his wild bangs while he toed off his combat boots and left them beside the other shoes on the floor near the door. That sweet, domestic sight didn’t go unnoticed but you had other things occupying your mind, such as a reminder to thank Erica for meddling in your Halloween night plans.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Just not in the mood to party, that’s all.”

“See, that doesn’t sound like you, Y/N.”

“How do you know that?”

“I guess I just know more about you than you’d think.”

You were still both standing in the small hallway that led to your living room, now staring at each other. Eddie felt out of place, next to the cream and beige shades of the wallpaper your mom chose when you moved there, in his all black ensemble, all leather and spikes and wild hair, but at the same time, you felt like he could belong there, if he stayed long enough.

You wished he would.

“I don’t know about that,” you sighed, “but if you want to stay and watch some movies, that would be more than okay.”

He smiled and leaned back, looking taller and impossibly handsome, dark eyes shimmering. You almost melted on your spot, but again, you wanted to blame it on the wine. 

“Lead the way, babe.”

At some point during the night, between one gruesome film and another, and a couple of bottles of wine being passed back and forth, you had scooted closer and closer together on your couch, until you were almost pressed flush against each other. Eddie was afraid to move and break whatever spell you seemed to be under, because he hadn't felt comfortable like that in a long time.

It was easy being around you. It hadn't been easy for Eddie to be around a lot of people, not since Spring Break, but with you, it took absolutely no effort to just be. To let go, to let his mind rest, to just focus on how warm the skin of your thigh was under your sweatpants, almost touching his, to make you laugh with his witty commentary of the awful movies you'd chosen to watch, to watch how beautiful you looked under the blue light of the television whenever you looked away from him.

He had it bad, that much he knew. Been smitten for a long time, enamored with the girl just out of his reach, but close enough to admire without guilt, but he wasn't about to let his feelings be known quite yet. Not when you were so close, so perfect, so… approachable, for the first time ever.

Eddie had never liked your boyfriend, from the first time he met him — just another Hawkins rich boy, swim team star, on his way to some fancy college out of state, and worst of all, he got to call you his. Unlike Steve Harrington, who managed to sway his usually unshakable opinion, Andrew just proved him right every time he had the unfortunate opportunity to meet him.

The first time he saw him was right after the dust had settled. He had just walked out of the hospital as a free man, mysteriously forgiven by the law enforcement that just a few days earlier was set on kicking him while he was down, and was received by his friends back at his trailer, a small committee complete with a handmade "welcome back!" sign and a cake baked by you. 

You, who welcomed him back with open arms and never stopped fighting for him, even if you'd only officially met a week before.

You'd spent that afternoon in his bedroom, along with his friends and his uncle, all sitting around his bed and reminiscing, happy to be there, happy to be alive. Still recovering from your wounds, seen and unseen, leaning on each other like a lifeline. He remember holding your hand that day, acutely aware of the ring on your finger, but doing it anyway — your hold never faltered, instead, you ran your thumb across the skin of his hand and smiled.

Was that what bliss felt like?

Later that day, you were the first to leave. Andrew came to pick you up, Dustin announced as he was the one to answer the door. A frown made its way to your face, if only for a second, and that was enough to make Eddie decide he didn't like the guy. Not only that but he insisted on walking you to the door, ignoring the protests coming from all around the room.

Walking slowly, as much as his still fresh bite wounds would allow, he let you lead him to his front door, a gentle hand on his back, guiding him. He didn't let himself feel bad for using his battered state to let you touch him without guilt, he could do that later, after the comforting warmth of your touch had stopped branding his skin. 

When you opened the door, that's when Eddie saw him. He knew Andrew hadn't been there during Spring Break, away with his family to some tropical destination, far from the horror they, you, had to endure. Eddie could tell he didn't care much either, letting you tend to your also still fresh wounds, both physical and mental, by yourself most of the time after he got back, only calling you when he needed something.

Eddie tells himself he would never let you out of his sight, if you were his girl, but there's also a lot of other things he likes to think about when he considers that scenario.

He watched you say goodbye, squeezing his shoulder before leaving and descending his trailer's stairs, down to your boyfriend's nice car and cold arms, leading you away from him, but not before leering him down at his own doorway, a condenscending, degrading look Eddie knew a little too well by now.

Not a word was spoken between the two, but there was no need, Eddie already made hating him into a new hobby.

With that sudden rememberance, your soft giggles bringing him back to the present, Eddie couldn't help but ask.

"What happened to your boyfriend?"

Without missing a beat, you chuckled, and responded without looking at him. "He dumped me."

"He what?" His question sounded a lot louder and high-pitched than he had intended. Eddie thought it would be easier for you to have dumped him other than the opposite.

Who would be stupid enough to let you go like that?

With a long sigh, you clicked the remote to pause the movie, and turned around to face him fully. He tried not to show how disappointed he was to lose the physical contact you had at that moment, but his hand clenched almost involuntarily, eager to reach out and pull you back. Where you belonged, his traitorous mind added.

"Dumped me, yeah." You sat with your legs crossed and he did the same, turning to hear you. "Last week. Unceremoniously, might I add, through the phone, even. I heard through the grapevine he's already dating someone else, but that might be just rumors, or maybe not, honestly I expect anything from him at this point."

Eddie's mind was reeling. "Was that why you didn't want to go out tonight?"

"That's part of the reason." You nod. "I just really don't wanna risk seeing him and Halloween is my favorite holiday, I don't want it more ruined than it already is."

The urge to punch the guy in the face was strong, stronger than it was when he was still recovering, when you were still together. It made him restless, fidgeting in his seat. The hand that lied limp at his side finally reached out, sitting on your knee and squeezing it only slightly. "I'm sorry. I know that it's not worth much, but I really am. You deserve better."

A weak smile formed on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes. Eddie desperately wanted to make your face light up again. A brief idea struck him, then.

"Do you know where he might be tonight?"

"Benny's, probably. I don't know. I don't want to know." Despite your distress, you looked adorable with your nose scrunched and your head down, picking on your already chipped nail polish. Unable to help himself, Eddie finally reached out, his first unmistakably purposeful display of affection towards you — a little unsure, a little clumsy, but it still felt right — bringing his curled index finger below your chin, gently tipping your head up, making you meet his eyes.

"You might wanna know about what I'm thinking."

His voice was soft, but his dark eyes were full of mischief.

It was late when you got to Benny's. Not that anyone there would mind, the music inside was blasting loud enough that it could be heard for miles, and the people who were outside were all too intoxicated to mind your presence.

The basketball team, and seemingly every other jock affiliation at school, had a different party happening on Halloween night. They must have not gotten their big suburban house for themselves this year, Eddie thought. He would usually try to crash these parties, make some money out of the only few times these jocks didn't abhor his mere presence to his advantage, but things had changed for him, and for all it's worth, he had better things to do tonight.

Getting your ex-boyfriends back from what he did to you was his first priority. The second was making you forget all about him.

You and Eddie must have looked like quite a pair. He was still in his full costume, standing out from the more boring looking costumes the popular crowd opted for that evening, and you had put on the first outfit you saw after he'd told you his plan and whisked you away in his van. An old black sweater and ripped jeans, he saw your mismatched socks before you put on your boots, the ones that were already near the door. 

To him, you looked perfect, but he could tell how uncomfortable you were with all the people around you. Your ex's friends, he assumed. Eddie wondered if you were ever at these parties, and if Andrew even cared about how you felt about them. He doesn't want to think too much about it or he could feel himself get mad again.

"Hey," he brought a hand to your back, moving it up and down in a soothing manner, "we'll be in and out of here, 'kay?"

"Yeah, I know." Your smile was small, but Eddie was relieved to see it anyway. He promised himself he'd make convincing you to leave your house worth it, and he'll keep his promise.

"So… which one is his car?"

He watched you point to a tan-colored Jeep towards the end of the improvised parking lot. Silently, he grabbed your hand and led the way towards it. It wasn't a very well thought out plan, the one came up with whilst he seethed thinking about an asshole like that dumping a girl like you. It demanded serious action, in his humble opinion.

Property damage, more like it.

Eddie had been trying to stay out of trouble since the events of last March. He'd been officially cleared of all charges, something to do with the reappearance of Chief Hopper and his connections with the government. The details were foggy, he barely remembered signing all of those documents, still in his hospital bed and hazy from the medication. Wayne probably knew more than he did, but Eddie never asked too many questions.

He tried to go on as normally as he could, working odd jobs here and there as his body recovered, doing his best to heal his mind too. He stopped selling, graduated in May, spent more time with his new found friends — his new found family — and his old ones. Started dreaming about a girl who belonged to someone else, foolishly hoping that someday she would be his.

Not so foolish now, those dreams seemed.

Keeping out of trouble was surprisingly easy after you'd barely escaped life in prison, or worse — Eddie discovered there were far worse things than getting locked up, or living up to his family name. After all that, a minor misdemeanor was worth it if it was going to make you smile, at least in his eyes.

When you approached the Jeep, he could tell there was something going on in there. If he noticed, you noticed it as well, inching closer to it, slowly, trying to not get caught. The car was not empty, there were two people in front seats, making out — your ex and a girl Eddie did not recognize.

The first thing he felt was your grip on his hand tighten, and when he turned his body around to look at you, you looked away. Heartbroken, a dejected look on your pretty face, lips turned into a frown. It was almost like you didn't want to be seen at that moment, trying to hide, but Eddie couldn't let you. His own heart breaking for you, but willing to do whatever it took to mend it.

He took your face in both of his hands, urging you to look at him. "You don't need to get any closer, all right? Let me handle it, it was my idea. We won't spend more than five minutes here, I promise. Then I'll take you home, or we can go wherever you want. Far away from him, okay?"

"Okay. It's okay. I trust you, Eddie." 

The chill he's been feeling having foregone his jacket is readily forgotten as he takes in how sweet your eyes look in the low light of the street. He runs his thumb over your cheek just briefly before letting you go, going over to Andrew's car.

Thankfully for the height of the car, it was easy for Eddie to crouch and quickly grab the butterfly knife he usually kept on the inside pocket of his jacket — for safety measures, especially after being almost eaten alive, he didn't feel well without a weapon within close proximity. Call him crazy, but maybe there's always demobats to be fought, or asshole ex-boyfriends to screw over.

He cringed as he noticed the car starting to shake slightly, and prayed that you'd kept looking away. Eddie made a quick job of it — light on his feet, he slashed each of the four tires, and as he watched them slowly deflate, he ran towards you. You looked at him, covering your mouth to hide your nervous laughter, and he put his finger to his mouth, signaling you to keep quiet.

Together, you ran. Eddie didn't know who grabbed whose hand first, but when he came to himself you were running in the direction of his van, and you were giggling openly, making him smile until his cheeks hurt in turn. When you stopped, panting and still laughing, none of you let go.

"I can't believe we did that."

"I did that. You just watched, sweetheart."

Rolling your eyes, you pulled him a little closer by the hand you were holding. "Still, you're my hero, Eddie Munson."

"Couldn't stand thinking about what that dick did to you. He never deserved you in the first place."

He thought he'd said something wrong when you didn't say anything right away, but he was pleasantly surprised when you finished closing the distance between you, capturing his bottom lip between yours in a delicate kiss. He stood there, shocked for a second, before bringing his hands to your waist, drawing you to his chest.

Your arms around his neck, his traveling to your back, the sound of the deep bass coming from the inside of Benny's drowning everything around you. You were all he could feel, your soft lips melding with his, taking in all the little noises you made when he touched you just right. Feeling you under his touch was kind of surreal, like he couldn't believe it was happening just yet.

He swallowed the sigh you let out, just before drawing away, looking for air. "What was that?"

"Just a thank you, for now." You pointed with another peck to his lips.

"For now? What's for later?"

"Take me home like you promised and you'll find out."

"Baby, you don't need to…," not even he expected the pet name, or what followed, "you know, thank me like that. Or at all! I wasn't expecting anything from you…"

Before he could say anymore, you silenced him with another kiss, this time sucking on his bottom lip and letting him deepen it, taking the opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth, getting lost in the taste of you. Eddie walked you back until you hit the side of his van, his hand covering the back of your head, softening the impact.

He couldn't bear to hold himself back any longer, and you didn't seem to want him to slow down either, pulling him impossibly closer by his hair, making him moan into your mouth.

"I know you weren't, but I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head, running his hands under your sweater, feeling your warm skin under your shirt, "Not longer than me, I'm sure."

"Wanna bet?"

The rest of the night was a blur. When Eddie woke up the next morning, naked on your bed, all he could remember was spending through the streets, dividing his already thin attention between kissing you and the steering wheel, drinking wine on your couch until you started taking your clothes off, and stumbling up the stairs while he removed his.

You slept peacefully beside him, your hair like a halo around your head, faint purple hickies on your neck. Though his mind was foggy, and his head ached with a hangover he was sure to blame your cheap wine, he didn't regret a thing he did the night before.

Later, when you woke up, after he spent looking at your ceiling and wondering how did he get so lucky, you got under the sheets and thanked him some more.

[steveharrington]

can you elaborate more on steve being abandoned by the narrative?

yes <3 so i think there are two very unfortunate circumstances surrounding steve's character that have led to the current state of his plotline: 1. after not killing him in s1 like they originally planned, the duffers have never really had a plan for steve and 2. they are extremely influenced by audiences. when they were conceptualizing steve to fit in among the ensemble cast, the duffers were picturing him as a douchey boyfriend who unceremoniously dies. lonnie was originally going to come back to the byers house to save jonathan and nancy. there was no need to picture where he'd be 4 seasons down the road, so they just didn't account for that. then joe keery charmed them so hard that they literally couldn't bear to kill him, so steve ends season one still somehow alive.

but we've already established the nancy/jonathan plotline, because jonathan was once the duffers' self-insert who must defeat the evil jock and win over the girl. they couldn't just backpedal on that right away, so they needed to give nancy and jonathan a plotline alone, away from steve. but steve only ever functioned as an extension of nancy until this point, so what do we do with steve now? in an accidental stroke of genius that the duffers have admitted was a last second decision, they pair him with the children and make him into a babysitter. it almost instantly boosts steve into being tied with hopper and el for most popular character from the show, potentially even beats them both out. in 2017 when s2 aired, you could not escape mom steve jokes. it was everywhere, steve was everywhere, joe was everywhere, it was arguably the second coming of #justice for barb, which, in netflix business-y terms, was the exact viral meme type situation that the show wanted and needed to sell merch and remain relevant and say "see we still got it!!!"

you know who has the 2nd most lines in the entirety of season three? directly behind hopper? ahead of winona ryder? steve. think for a second about how absolutely insane that is. the character who was written specifically to die in season one. joe keery's name wasn't even in the season one credits, because he wasn't considered a series regular. and now he has the 2nd most spoken lines in the big blockbuster season because he rocketed up in popularity so intensely. season three marketing features the mall so heavily, creates a literal physical shrine to 80s nostalgia, and when the very first promo is released an entire year before the season airs, who's the star of that teaser trailer? and who, pray tell, is featured in the main brand sponsorship ad that plays in movie theaters worldwide? thats right its america's little darling steve harrington.

but here is the issue. the duffers look at what made steve popular and they see: funny exasperated babysitter, heartthrob action hero. they're like oh okay so we should keep putting him directly in the center of the action, bang him up every season to give him his classic bloodied aesthetic, but. he still needs to be funny. we can almost kill him, but we can't actually kill him because he's profitable. we can let him get horrifically injured because it's badass, but we still gotta let him crack jokes. it creates this very weird tone to steve's role in the story starting in season 3 because he's both the action hero and the comedic relief and protected by plot armor, so we get scenes where he's being literally tortured until he's begging for his life and gasping for breath but the tone is still.......fun? comedic? light and goofy? i think the duffers also forgot he's supposed to be a teenager.

now this is partially me making educated guesses but i feel pretty confident about this: once again, like gollum, joe keery uses his big shiny eyes and manages to evade death again in season four by being so likable and charming and marketable that netflix execs or shawn levy or maybe even the duffers themselves were like oh fuck we just can't do it. they were obviously tossing around the idea of taking mom steve all the way by letting him die sacrificially for dustin, so in season four they make eddie, transfer steve's relationship with dustin directly onto him, ctrl f steve's name in the death scene and just type in eddie instead, and once again steve is alive but he's directionless.

so what does he have now, in season four? i think the duffers have a whiteboard somewhere with steve's name and around it are little circles that say "funny" "cool" "DO NOT KILL" and steve is now stuck in this endless cycle of getting beaten up, popping back up somehow unharmed like a looney tune, saying something cute and oblivious, rinse and repeat. because that's what worked, that's what made him popular all the way back in season two. that's what the duffers are obviously keeping in mind when they're writing steve: popularity. not realism, not depth, not growth, just literally how to continue making him popular. meanwhile, other characters get to be part of the actual story. other characters get to serve a purpose other than selling merch. when el is bitten by a monster, she gets to actually feel pain and need help because that's realistically what any human would need. when hopper is tortured, he gets to suffer and ponder his existence and reflect on the relationships in his life. steve never gets any of that, because the writers just don't see steve as the 19 year old boy on his 4th straight year of traumatic events that he actually is.

they literally just see him as a money maker, there for cool viral moments and witty lines and maybe the occasional emotion experienced but only if it's about his romantic prospects. and the narrative that other characters get to have and be apart of just kinda runs parallel to steve. he's there, technically, but he's not really in the story. and it's like actually crazy because you'd think after all the funko pops he sold, he'd have earned an actual storyline!!!

[oh-stars]

Eddie's Quest

Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 916 words | CW: implied bad Harrington parents, rec drug use | Rating: T

--

There isn’t much from Steve’s childhood that Eddie knows about and what he does know, hasn’t always been good. Steve just doesn’t share a lot in general though. He’s content in living in the present, which isn’t something Eddie really knows how to do. So when Steve does share something positive, something that he holds dear from his childhood, Eddie latches on.

Their anniversary is coming up, only a few weeks away, and Steve mentioned he misses the way a babysitter made this specific kind of cake. Black something. Steve couldn’t remember the name of it so now Eddie’s on a mission to try and figure it out. 

Eddie finds himself at Claudia Henderson’s doorstep on a Tuesday morning with flowers in his hand. When she opens the door, Eddie doesn’t even let her say hello before he’s giving them to her with a, “I need your help finding this really obscure recipe to make Steve happy and I have a feeling it’s going to be a nightmare because I can’t bake for shit. Will you please help?” 

Claudia coos at him. “Oh you’re the sweetest, Eddie! Of course, I’ll help! Come in, come in.” 

They end up pouring over all her cookbooks, and then Claudia starts a phone tree with Karen, Sue, and Joyce for their recipes. All five of them converge at the library, their personal cookbooks in hand, to take over one of the study rooms the library offers. “If we don’t have it,” Claudia told him as they settled in, “then the library will.” 

Eddie can’t even argue as they get to work. 

“Did he say what it tasted like?” Karen asks as she starts flipping through a book. Joyce had the brilliant idea of marking where all the dessert sections started in each book, so each woman was currently flipping away while Eddie tried to remember every detail Steve had mentioned. 

“He mentioned cherries,” Eddie groans, scrubbing at his face. “And it’s a cake.” 

“Could be topped with cherries,” Sue hums as she sorts through her books. 

“Or a cherry filling,” Claudia points out. 

“Steve has a sweet tooth,” Joyce adds after a while. “He likes rich flavors, so it’s probably on the sweeter side than a refreshing dessert.” 

Eddie shrugs. “I guess?” 

“You know,” Karen says as she taps her fingers against her book. “I think I remember a few of Steve’s nannies over the years. They were always at the school for pick up. Do you know which one has the recipe?” 

“Does she still live here?” Sue asks. “It would save us some time to just ask.” 

“No, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “He said his parents didn’t let him keep in touch and she moved away. He doesn’t know where.” 

The women share a knowing, quiet look amongst them. Eddie’s not sure he’s fluent in their silent mom language, but he knows a judgy look when he sees one. 

Eddie jumps up and paces the room, retracing every line of thinking that particular conversation followed. The problem is, they were high as fuck when Steve brought it up, sharing tidbits between big bites of the ice cream they’d found in their freezer. 

“You would have loved her,” Steve had said with a mouthful. He was laying on Eddie, legs hanging off the arm of the couch and propped against Eddie’s side so they could share the pint. “She liked to read a lot, always had books for me.”

“What kind of books?” Eddie asked. 

“Think ones.” Steve shrugged, eyes glazed over. “Fairy Tales, but the real gross stuff. So my dad wouldn’t get mad,” he added quickly. 

Gross fairy tales, Eddie thinks. He knows what Steve’s talking about, the original dark shit that they used to scare children into behaving from the grim–

“German!” Eddie screeches as he slams his hands on the table. To their credit, none of the mothers jump except for Joyce. “She was German!” 

Karen looks up at the ceiling, eyes narrowed in concentration. Claudia taps her fingers against her temple. Sue hums as she checks a few of the spines on the other stacks. Joyce leans back, crossing her arms as she stares off into space. 

“That has to help,” Eddie tries, quieter, “right?” 

“Maybe,” Karen says as she blinks back at the cookbook. She trades it for another. “And you’re sure it had cherries?” 

“Oh!” Joyce jumps up, hands flailing as she grabs for a book off Claudia’s stack. “I know it!” 

They all crowd around the book, heads tucked together as Joyce flies through the sections and slaps a finger against a chocolate cake. “Black Forest Cake,” she says, panting a little. 

Eddie moves the book to read the description. “This is it!” 

Their cheering gets them kicked out, but none of them seem to mind as they tote their cookbook stacks back to their cars. Claudia and Sue are already talking about commandeering Karen’s kitchen to bake it in a few days, since her kitchen is bigger, and they can all help – make a day of it with wine and gossip. He doesn’t care how it gets made, just that he can take it to Steve, to show him he listens and cares and loves him so much. He can’t wait to share this cake with him, to make it for him every year just because. His quest will be complete and he’ll get to live happily ever after with a very happy, well-fed prince. Best quest yet.

--

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!

Ao3 Link

[oweninadaydream]

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Steve and you interrupt your lazy afternoon to discuss a very serious (or is it?) matter...

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 : pregnant!reader, established relationship, just pure fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 777

𝐚/𝐧 : I had lots of fun writing this at like 2 am lol. Hope you enjoy it! ☺️💐

Steve was in the kitchen, trying to cook dinner as fast as he could before your cravings had the chance to change and make you suddenly disgusted just by the smell of what he had been preparing for more than an hour. Today's delicatessen consisted of Hawaiian pizza with a side of pickles.

Normally, you would hate pineapple on pizza (you just can't stand mixing sweet and salty like that) and your hatred for pickles was known by all of your friends (specially by Robin, who had to hold up your hair as you vomited because she once gave you a bite of her sandwich which happened to contain the infamous ingredient), but your boyfriend wasn't willing to contradict his pregnant girlfriend who was extremely sensitive.

He was pulled out of his thoughts after hearing you call his name. "What's up, sweetheart? Everything okay?" he asked from his position.

"We need to have a very serious talk right now" you answered in a monotonous tone.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end of Steve Harrington. After he felt that his heart had started pumping blood again, he hurried to the living-room where you had been chilling for most of the afternoon. You looked fine, there was nothing on fire and your stomach seemed as round as the last time he had seen it, so what was going on?

"Go on, I'm listening love" he encouraged you to begin revealing your thoughts.

"The baby is due in a couple of weeks and we haven't even decided which movies they're gonna watch in English and which ones in Spanish" the stress in your voice was easy to detect. Steve looked you straight in the eyes and he could swear that he had fallen in love with you all over again in that very instant. How could you be so adorable?

"Oh honey, I love you so so much" he cooed while leaving small kisses all over your face "we can discuss it now while the pizza is in the oven if you'd like" he offered.

Your native tongue was Spanish and ever since Steve and you started thinking about having children, you had known you'd raise your kids to be bilingual "They will not be no sabo kids, not on my watch".

Steve was more than thrilled at the thought of mini versions of you and him walking around, babbling in some strange form of spanglish. He had taken up Spanish after meeting you, and even though he was not the fastest learner, his disposition had taken him very far in his journey to be closer to you through language.

"Okay, so do you have any ideas?" he asked "Actually, yes I do" you quickly changed your expression to show enthusiasm "I've got a mental list of some non-negotiables. First, Enredados"

Steve hummed in acknowledgment as he had already guessed you would say Tangled, your mom's favorite Disney movie. Your mother didn't understand much English so this was a logical choice, as she wanted to watch the film with her grandchild and bond over it.

"Then, we've got Tarzan" "Tarzan?! The guy that sings the songs in the Spanish version is the same guy as in the English one, Phil Collins's accent is obvious. Also, y'know, it was my favorite movie as a kid" he tried to argue in a calm manner "...Well, I guess you're right. They can watch that one in the original version" One point to Harrington.

"What if you suggest one? I wouldn't want to impose" you commented. "Don't worry cielo, you keep going and I'll think of one or two more for me to choose" the fact that the first words he learnt were the pet names you liked the most was just one of the many proofs of his love for you " All right!!! So I had thought about El Rey León, Tiana y el sapo, Bichos, Aladdín..." you then proceeded to list almost every animated Disney movie. Steve could have stopped you at any point but the enamored haze clouding his thinking process wanted to indulge in your every desire.

The oven started beeping, alerting both Steve and you that dinner was officially ready. "Let's go, it's time for dinner" "But, what about the movies?" you pouted "Mi amor, we can do whatever you want in regards to our child's cinematic experience" "The bedtime stories can be in English, your dramatic interpretation of The three little pigs will impress them for sure" you suggested after realizing that you had monopolized the whole Disney films industry and feeling bad about it "Thank you, darling. Practice makes perfect"

Happy girlfriend, happy life, right?

P.D : Phil Collins ate and left no crumbs in the Spanish soundtrack, we appreciate him in this house !!!

[steddieworks]

finally safe for me to fall - chapter 10

hi!! I am so, so sorry that this chapter is a week late and I'm posting it so late in the day. This time of year is really busy with my job, and I've got some personal stuff going on that made it difficult for me to actually focus, but when I sat down today to write, I really got to remember why I love this story so much!! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it's a long one!

read on ao3

Summary: Steve, Eddie, and the twins go to Chrissy and Robin's baby shower.

Warnings for this chapter: Swearing

Words: 11.5k

By the time Eddie and Gareth are done talking, it’s nearly one o’clock. He almost wishes he hadn’t agreed to go to the baby shower with Steve and the girls, but really, he’s excited to get home to them, excited to get back to his routine.

“Don’t forget to call me,” Gareth says as they leave the coffee shop. “I know you’ve got this busy parent schedule now, but I’ll hunt you down if you ghost me again.”

Eddie cracks a grin at that, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t,” he says, actually telling the truth for once. He pulls Gareth into a crushing hug, but the other man doesn’t complain like he would’ve just a few years ago. Instead, he hugs Eddie right back, his grip nearly bruising.

“I love you, man,” Gareth mumbles. “I’m so fucking glad that you’re doing better.”

Eddie isn’t crying. He isn’t. “Me too, man. Me too.”

They hug for what is probably an awkward amount of time, before eventually, Eddie has to let go. “I’ve gotta get home and get the kids ready for the baby shower,” he says apologetically.

Gareth grins at him, nodding. “Never thought I’d hear you say something like that,” he says, his voice light enough that Eddie knows he doesn’t mean anything by it. “Parenting looks good on you, though.”

Eddie flushes at that, but secretly, he’s thrilled at the compliment. “Thanks,” he says sheepishly. He lifts a hand in a wave, stepping back towards his van. “I’ll see you around, Gareth.”

“Bye, Edmund,” Gareth calls before he turns to leave.

Eddie shakes his head, fond.

God, he’s missed that little weirdo.

~~~

When Eddie gets home, the first thing he hears is chaos.

The twins are definitely the loudest part, but in the background Eddie can also hear Steve trying to talk over them, loudly explaining why they have to dress nicely for the baby shower. Eddie grins as he hangs up his coat by the front door, more amused than he probably should be by the conversation.

He follows the voices down the hall and to the twins’ room, where Steve is stood at the door, his back to Eddie. His hands are on his hips, and he’s got this distinct disappointed parent stance that Eddie can’t help but giggle at.

“Eddie!” Ivy cries when she spots him, practically flinging herself into his arms.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says to her as he scoops her up, balancing her on his hip. “It sounds like you two are giving Daddy a hard time this morning,” he says, giving her and Jasmine both a disapproving look.

“They’re def-“ Steve starts as he turns to face Eddie. He cuts himself off with a quiet, choked noise. Eddie glances up at him with a frown, confused when he sees how wide Steve’s eyes are when he looks at him.

“What?” Eddie asks, feeling incredibly self-conscious. “Do I have something on my face?”

Steve shakes his head, but his expression doesn’t change. “Uh, no, you’re just… um…”

“You’re pretty today, Eddie,” Ivy tells him sweetly.

Eddie can feel himself flush, but he smiles at her anyway. “Aww, thank you, sweet girl.” He glances at Steve again. “Uh… everything okay?”

Steve nods quickly, his eyes trailing away only to dart back to Eddie several times. “Um, yeah. Everything’s… fine.”

Eddie can smell the lie, literally, because Steve’s scent is so familiar to him now, but he chooses not to mention it. “Okay. Well, you two don’t look dressed yet. Have we picked something nice out for auntie Robin’s baby shower?”

Ivy groans in his arms. “Why do we have to wear something nice?” She complains.

Steve sighs. “Ivy-“ he starts, clearly running out of patience.

Eddie interrupts. “Because your dad said so,” Eddie tells her, quirking an eyebrow. “He doesn’t have to give you an explanation about why. It’s okay to wonder, but sometimes you just have to do what Dad tells you without arguing, okay?”

Ivy looks a little annoyed, but nods. “Fine,” she mumbles, wiggling out of Eddie’s arms. “What about my blue dress?”

“It’s pretty cold, honey, do you have a dress you can wear leggings with?” he asks as she goes to flick through the hangers in her closet.

She searches for a second, then pulls out a dark blue velvet dress with long, puffy sleeves. “This one?”

Eddie nods. “That should be fine, we’ll just have to find some tights to go with that.” He glances at Steve, who is just staring at Eddie with a soft look.

Steve sort of startles when he notices Eddie looking back at him. “Oh, uh, yeah. That’s fine.” Ivy grabs her dress and shoes before heading off to the bathroom to get changed, and Steve turns to look at Jasmine, who is sitting at the foot of her bed. “Alright, Jazz. What do you want to wear?”

Jasmine shrugs at him, but her eyes flick over to Eddie. “Can you pick something out for me?”

“Sure,” Eddie says with a nod, going to look through the twins’ shared closet. “Hm… how about you wear something pink, since sissy is wearing something blue?”

“That would be cute,” Steve says, encouragingly. “How about your pink sweater dress, honey?”

Jasmine shrugs again, and Eddie gives her a strange look. It’s not unusual for her to be quiet, necessarily, but it is a bit odd for her to not have more of an opinion on something like this. “Okay,” she says.

Eddie flicks through the hangers until he finds the sundress in question, but then turns to glance at Jasmine again. “Are you sure this is what you want to wear? If you want to wear something else, you can.”

Unsurprisingly, all she does is move her shoulders. Again.

Eddie sighs. He and Steve make eye contact, and Eddie subtly nods to the door, mouthing, I’ve got this. Steve takes the hint, giving his daughter a worried look before saying, “I need to go get ready, hon, I’m gonna let Eddie help you pick something out, and I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Jasmine mumbles, not even looking up from her shoes.

Steve gives Eddie this sort of pleading look, and Eddie just nods. He wishes that he and Steve could speak telepathically, for a weird, brief moment. It would be nice to reassure him that he’s going to try and get to the bottom of Jasmine’s weird mood without actually saying it in front of her.

As soon as Steve is out of the room, Jasmine sighs loudly, crossing her arms. She still won’t look up at Eddie, but he doesn’t give her much of a choice, stepping over to where she sits and dropping to a crouch in front of her. “Alright, what’s going on?” he asks softly.

Jasmine shakes her head. “Nothin’,” she mumbles.

Eddie sighs. “Well, I already know that’s not true, honey. So let’s try again: is something wrong?”

She laces her fingers together in her lap, shaking her head. Eddie’s about to prompt her again when she hesitates, then nods. “I guess.”

Finally, they’re getting somewhere.

“Okay,” Eddie says softly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Jasmine shakes her head, but finally glances at him. “It’s about you,” she admits.

That throws Eddie off a little bit. How is it about him? He just got there!

“Oh,” Eddie says slowly, trying to figure out how to navigate this. “Okay. Um… Did I do something wrong?” He tries to think back to last night, since that was the last time he’d seen her. He didn’t interact with the girls this morning, as they were still in bed when he left, but Jasmine had seemed fine the night before.

Except when she said… Eddie shakes his head. It was probably just a slip of the tongue, her calling him “Mommy” like that. Surely they don’t see him as their mom, not really. That just wouldn’t be right- it would be a dishonor to Steve’s ex-wife.

Jasmine shrugs, mumbles, “I dunno.”

Eddie clears his throat, and his mind, before speaking again. “Okay… Well, Jazz, I’ll be honest, I don’t know what to say. If I don’t know what I did, then I can’t fix it.”

Finally, Jasmine does something other than sigh or shrug. She huffs, which to be honest, probably isn’t much better. What she blurts out next isn’t much better, either. “Daddy said you went on a date this morning,” she says, all of it whooshing out in one breath.

Eddie blinks. “Er. What?”

Jasmine twists her fingers nervously, blinking up at him. “Well, when me and sissy got up, we came to find you, and you weren’t here. Ivy got scared that you ran away, so we went to ask Daddy, and he said you were on a date.” She frowns, but Eddie still can’t figure out why that’s the bad part of the story.

“Oh, okay…” he says, slowly. “Well, um… do you know what that means?”

Jasmine nods, but that bothered look hasn’t left her face. “I asked Daddy, and he said it’s like what Mommies and Daddies do before they decide to be Mommies and Daddies together,” she says. She sounds miserable.

Eddie nearly chokes at her description of what she thinks a date is. “And that… that bothered you?”

She nods, sniffling. “Yeah.”

“Oh…” Eddie says, slowly. His brain is still trying to wrap around this reaction of hers, but he has a theory, at least. “Do you wanna tell me why it bothered you, honey?”

Jasmine shrugs, swiping at her nose. “Because… I don’t want you to be a Mommy with someone else.”

Eddie’s heart breaks, just a little. “Oh, honey,” he sighs, pushing himself up to sit beside her and pulling her into a hug. “Well, can I tell you a secret?” Eddie asks her quietly.

Jasmine nods. Secrets are like candy to these kids. “Yeah,” she says, speaking just as quietly as he did.

Eddie grins at her. “I wasn’t on a date.”

At that, Jasmine’s whole face changes. “You weren’t?” She says, clearly baffled by this information.

“Nope,” Eddie says, popping the “p.” He ruffles her hair, and for once, she doesn’t even complain about it. “I was just having coffee with an old friend from high school.”

“Oh,” Jasmine says, nodding. Then, her eyebrows wrinkle, and she looks up at him, confused. “Then why did Daddy lie to us?”

Eddie’s quick to correct her. “Oh, he didn’t mean to lie. Daddy just didn’t know - that was my fault, for not making it clear when I told him. But he didn’t lie on purpose, he just didn’t know what else to tell you.”

Jasmine nods in understanding. She seems happy enough with this explanation, which is made incredibly evident when she points at her closet. “Can I wear my pink overalls? Instead of my dress?”

“Of course,” Eddie nods, standing to go find it. “And how about a white sweater? Since it’s gonna be cold out?”

Jasmine nods, and after that, it’s easy enough to get her ready to go. When Ivy comes back into their room, Eddie works on her hair while Jasmine goes to get changed and brush her teeth. He ends up doing a delicate French braid, one that she miraculously sits still for the whole time.

“Alright, all done,” he says after he’s tied it off at the end and patted her head. “Go grab your shoes, honey.”

“Eddie?” She asks, her voice sort of hesitant.

“Hm?” He replies, gathering up another hair tie for when her sister comes back.

“Did you have fun on your date this morning?” She asks, staring at him instead of getting her shoes on.

Eddie sighs, but smiles at her. “Well, it wasn’t actually a date, but yes, I did.”

Her eyes widen, then narrow suspiciously. “But Daddy said-“

“I know,” Eddie interrupts her. “Because that’s what he thought it was. I just met a friend for coffee, that’s all.”

“Oh,” Ivy says, her shoulders dropping with relief. Eddie would laugh if it didn’t almost make him want to cry, how desperate they are for him to not find someone to be with. “That’s good, then.”

“Mhm,” he hums, noncommittally.

Jasmine returns then, and he thinks surely that’ll be the end of the conversation.

Apparently not.

“Would you go on a date with Daddy? If he asked you?” Ivy asks, tugging her shoes on.

“Did he?” Jasmine asks, freezing halfway to where Eddie is gesturing her forward with the hairbrush in his hand.

“Well-“ Ivy starts.

“No,” Eddie interrupts, a bit louder than he’d intended. He’s sure his face is probably pink with embarrassment, but he can’t help that. He pushes through. “No, he did not. And he wouldn’t, so that’s a silly question, Ivy.”

It’s hard to explain why his heart has suddenly decided to jog in his chest, but he knows it’s something to do with the implication that these kids see something there, something that isn’t, that can’t be.

“Well, he said-“ Ivy starts, her tone immediately giving away that she’s about to say something he won’t want to hear.

“Drop it, Ivy,” he says, more sternly than he’s probably ever spoken to her. She pauses, looking up at him with wide, shiny eyes. Fuck. He forces himself to smile at her. “I’m sorry, honey. I just… I don’t feel comfortable talking about your dad like that, okay? Remember what we’ve said about not talking about people who aren’t around to defend themselves?” He asks, trying to level with her.

Ivy nods, but frowns. “But I thought that was just when we’re saying mean things? I wouldn’t say something mean about Daddy,” she says.

Eddie nods, glad she at least remembers that much. “Right,” he says. “But even when you’re not saying bad stuff- if you’re talking about someone’s feelings, they should be there for that conversation, too, alright?”

Ivy doesn’t look thrilled with this news, but nods in understanding. “Okay,” she mumbles, a bit sourly.

“Thank you,” Eddie says softly. “Alright, Jazz, let’s get your hair done, Ivy, go ahead and get your shoes on, and go tell Daddy that we’re almost ready.”

The girls both nod, going to their places with easy obedience. Eddie thanks God, or whoever, once again, for the fact that he gets to help raise such good children. It’s certainly not something he takes for granted, and he hopes he never will.

By the time Eddie is done with Jasmine’s hair, Ivy has already dutifully left to go tell Steve that they’re almost ready to go, so Eddie waits for Jasmine to get her shoes on before making his way through the apartment to find them.

“Steve, Ivy, are you two ready?” he calls as he enters the kitchen, checking his watch. “We need to leave in like five minutes if we- oh!” Eddie lets out a little squeak of a noise when he bumps into something - or rather, someone.

“Oops, sorry, babe,” Steve says, his hand coming up to steady Eddie. “I think everyone’s ready. Where’s Jasmine?”

Eddie is about to answer, but his attention is pulled rather suddenly to Steve’s outfit. He’s wearing a shirt in a similar style to Eddie’s, except where Eddie’s is a deep, wine red, Steve’s is black. It’s almost like they’ve swapped personalities via their clothes, and for reasons Eddie can’t even begin to explain, something about it is getting to him.

“Eddie? Everything alright?” Steve asks, sounding concerned.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Eddie shakes himself, forcing his eyes to meet Steve’s instead of checking him out like some sort of weirdo. “Um, Jasmine is-”

“I’m right here!” Jasmine says from behind him.

He turns to look at her, relieved for the distraction. “Great. Everyone ready, then?”

The girls nod, so Eddie sends them to the door to grab their coats before looking back at Steve. He really does look good in that color. “What?” Steve says. His lips quirk into something like a smirk, though, so Eddie is almost positive that he knows what he’s thinking.

Eddie shrugs, and returns the smirk. Two can play at that game. “Nothing, honey. You just look very nice, is all.”

Steve blinks, the smirk dropping from his face, like he wasn’t expecting Eddie to actually comment on his appearance. “Oh,” he says, slowly. “Um. Thanks. You… uh… You look great, as well.” His eyes trail slowly over Eddie’s body, lingering on his chest, and Eddie nearly preens with the attention.

The smirk on Eddie’s face deepens. It’s odd how powerful he feels all of a sudden, with Steve looking at him like that. “Thanks,” he says, bumping his elbow against Steve’s arm playfully. “C’mon, we need to go, or we’ll be late.”

~~~

The drive to Robin’s doesn’t take as long as Eddie had suspected, but when they arrive at the house, there are already a few cars in the driveway and on the road. They live in a cute little gray two-story house in a cul-de-sac, and at first, it surprises Eddie that Robin could afford something like that. Then again, Steve probably pays her pretty well, and her partner must have a job as well.

“Nice house,” Eddie notes as Steve parks the beemer.

Steve nods. “Yeah. I was the one who told Robin about it, actually.”

“Oh.” For some reason, that surprises Eddie. “How’d you know about it? Not exactly right next door to the apartment,” he jokes.

Steve gives him a little strained smile, but nods. “Yeah… no, you’re right, it isn’t. I was actually looking for a house. You know, for me and the girls.” He looks embarrassed, for some reason.

And god, isn’t that some imagery? Eddie can’t help it, the way his brain immediately drifts to thoughts of a nice house, Steve coming home to find him cooking in a big kitchen, the girls doing their homework at a proper kitchen table. Christmases by a fireplace, summer picnics in a big backyard. The sound of little feet…

He shakes himself, rather harshly, to dislodge those pesky thoughts. Ridiculous, for him to be thinking something like that right now, when he’s literally about to go spend an afternoon with Steve’s best friend’s family. Why does he have to make everything about himself? God… he needs to get a grip.

“Alright. Let’s go, kiddos. Auntie Robin is probably waiting for us.” Steve unbuckles his seatbelt, but pauses before he opens his door. He turns to look at Eddie, giving him a little smile. “I can tell you’re nervous. You don’t have anything to worry about, though, Robin and Chrissy are cool. And the rest of our friends that’ll be here are too, okay?”

Eddie nods. He doesn’t know how to explain to Steve that the people he’s about to be mingling with are at the very bottom of his list of concerns and thoughts right now. “Okay,” he says, forcing a smile. He reaches out, squeezing Steve’s hand. “Thanks.”

Steve gives him a winning smile before climbing out of the car, ushering the girls out as well. Eddie takes a deep breath before following. He really wasn’t nervous about the people they’re going to be seeing, but now that Steve has mentioned it…

Well, at least his anxiety has something else to hyper-fixate on.

Eddie is acutely aware of how they seem, walking up the concrete driveway to Robin’s front door. Steve is toting the stroller box, while Eddie holds Ivy and Jasmine’s hands. Ivy wanted to hold the gift bag, which Jasmine didn’t seem to mind. They look… well, they look like a proper family, Eddie reckons.

Steve doesn’t knock. That seems odd, vaguely. At least it does, right up until they step through the foyer and Robin comes around the corner, crossing her arms. “You’re late, dingus.”

Steve huffs, shifting the box in his arms to check his watch. Eddie doesn’t check out the way his muscles flex as he does this. He doesn’t.

“It’s literally four minutes past two, Robs. And like, I’ve got two kids. I’m doing my best here,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.

At the mention of said kids, Robin’s gaze shifts. “Speaking of my favorite nieces! Hi, guys! Was your dad being a dingus this morning?”

Jasmine all but throws herself into Robin’s arms, but luckily, she seems prepared for this. “Hi, Aunt Robin,” she greets, snuggling into her neck.

Eddie realizes, after a moment, that she’s scenting her. It makes his stomach twist with jealousy, the fact that he doesn’t get to scent them at the forefront of his mind. But this is Steve’s actual pack, not just the nanny he picked off the street. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want Eddie to scent the kids.

“Hi, sweet girls,” Robin says, reaching out to hug Ivy to her side whilst Eddie has his crisis. “Did your dad pick out your outfits today?” She asks, glancing up and meeting Eddie’s gaze. “Or did Eddie do it?”

Jasmine nods, pointing to Eddie. “Eddie did it when he got home. Daddy was lost before that.”

“Hey,” Steve protests weakly.

Robin grins, clearly thrilled about this admission. “Oh, is that so?” She asks. “Well, Eddie did a really good job, you two are cute as buttons.”

The twins thank her politely, then Jasmine squirms out of her arms. “Are there any snacks?” She asks, her voice sweet enough to sugar-coat the slightly rude question.

Steve and Robin share a look, rolling their eyes. “Yes, you little gremlins, there’s snacks in the kitchen. Try not to make a mess, okay?”

The twins dart off with half-hearted agreements, and that leaves Eddie alone with Steve and Robin.

“Um… I’ll go… make sure they don’t make a mess,” Eddie starts, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

Robin stops him with a wave of her hand. “Oh, they’ll be fine. My mom is in there handing out snacks, anyway.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, pausing. “Okay, then.”

Robin smiles at him, then glances at Steve. Eddie thinks she might be saying something with the glance, but he doesn’t know her well enough to say for sure what that thing would be. “Well, are you guys just gonna hang out in the foyer, or would you like to join the party?” She asks, smirking.

Steve hums, tapping his chin like he’s considering. “Well, you know, we could just leave the twins here and bolt. Free babysitting!” He jokes, nudging Eddie with his elbow.

Robin’s smirk only deepens at that. “Right. I’m sure you two have plenty to get up to without them,” she says, giving Steve another look. “But I spy a present, and I’m sure my girlfriend will want to check that out.”

Eddie notices a slight shift in his ma- Steve’s scent, and glances at him curiously, only to find his face a bit pink. Steve’s eyes dart towards him and away, staring resolutely at Robin, with something almost like a glare etched onto his face. Eddie frowns, but nods slowly in Robin’s direction. “Yeah,” he says, gesturing to the box that Steve is still toting. “This one was a shot in the dark, but Steve picked it out, so you know it’ll be good.” Eddie smiles.

Robin glances at Steve, and Eddie almost swears that her eye twitches when her mouth does, like she’s trying not to laugh or something. “Of course,” she says. “C’mon, the party can’t start without us.”

Steve goes to follow her, and Eddie follows behind him. Maybe it’s the way he seems to be struggling slightly with the box, or maybe it’s because of some need to be near him, but something makes Eddie reach out, resting his hand on the small of Steve’s back as they walk through the house and into the lounge, where the socialization seems to be happening. “Looks like a good present haul,” Eddie murmurs quietly to Steve as they walk over to the area clearly sectioned off for gifts, Robin retreating to the other side of the room.

“Yeah,” Steve nods, going to add theirs to the pile. He’s eyeing the boxes skeptically, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I doubt someone else got them one,” he says. “And even if they did, Robin and Chrissy can just pick their favorite, and send the other back. No big deal.”

Steve is very clearly pouting when he turns to look at Eddie. “But what if mine isn’t their favorite?” he mumbles, sourly.

Eddie can’t help but smile at that. It’s adorable, Steve’s ridiculous concerns for his best friend’s baby shower. “Then you can just buy them something else that’s just as expensive.”

“Fine,” Steve sighs, but his smile gives him away. “You ready to meet everyone?”

Eddie nods, but glances around for the girls. “Are the twins okay? Where-” he stops himself when he sees Jasmine and Ivy coming through the dining room, each of them holding a little plate with various treats and snacks. The natural omegan response to finding his pseudo-kids is a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing of their tension. “Nevermind, I guess,” he says with a smile. He turns to look at Steve, startling a little when he finds him already looking back. “So, meeting people?” Eddie prompts, feeling a little awkward.

“Yeah, c’mon.” Steve nods, and reaches for Eddie, placing a hand on the small of his back, much like Eddie did to him only a few minutes before. “Most of the people here are Robin and Chrissy’s family, but a couple are shared friends of mine and Robin’s, from our school days.”

“Oh, okay,” Eddie says. He realizes something then, and glances at Steve. “Wait, so you and Robin went to school together?”

Steve shakes his head, then shrugs. “Well, yeah, technically. We went to elementary and middle school in Hawkins around the same time, but then I was at boarding school and she went to an all-girls high school… Anyway, we didn’t actually properly meet and become friends till college,” Steve explains, leading Eddie around the room, nodding and waving to people he knows, but never stopping.

“Oh,” Eddie repeats. “I had no idea. That’s cool,” he says, but his mind is reeling a little with the fact that Steve did go to Hawkins at some point. But clearly their years didn’t overlap. Eddie is positive he would’ve remembered Steve, if he knew him back then.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “Funny, how the world works out like that sometimes, isn’t it?”

Eddie nods, giving him a little smile. “Yeah, it is.”

Steve pops his head into the kitchen, smiling at whoever he sees. “Ah, the guest of honor!” he says, his voice all fond teasing.

A soft voice laughs in response, and Eddie follows Steve’s lead, stepping into the kitchen as well. “Hi, Steve. I was wondering when you were going to come say hi to me!” A small woman with strawberry blonde hair is standing in the kitchen, a glass of water in one hand, while the other rests on her full pregnant belly. Her gaze shifts to Eddie, and she smiles even wider. “Hi! You must be Steve’s nanny!”

Something about her is so familiar, and it takes Eddie a second for it to click. “Technically his kids’ nanny, but who’s to say for sure,” he jokes. “I’m-”

Apparently the recognition clicks for her, too, because before he can say anything, her eyes widen, and she says, “wait! I remember you!”

Eddie smiles widely at her. “I was hoping you did! It took me a second, too. God, isn’t this a funny coincidence?”

Chrissy laughs, nodding. “Gosh, yes! I never put the pieces together. Robin had told me about you, and obviously today would be my first time officially meeting Steve’s kids, but-”

“Wait,” Steve interrupts. It startles Eddie a bit, having forgotten that Steve was even here. “You two… already know each other?” He blinks, clearly confused.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “Or, well. Sort of. Back when I first started working for you, I took the girls by a convenience store for a snack and we ran into Chrissy.”

Chrissy nods. “Yeah, we only spoke for a few minutes. I didn’t even think about the fact that Steve had twins and a new nanny. God, I feel dumb now!” She says, laughing.

Eddie smiles at her, shaking his head. “No, you shouldn’t! I didn’t realize it either. Even with Steve saying your name and everything, I didn’t make the connection.”

“Well, that’s a relief. At least we’re both a little confused.” Chrissy smiles, then gestures to the dining table behind them. “Did you guys want some snacks? We’ve got plenty of stuff, and the girls were just in here getting theirs.”

Steve looks at Eddie at the same time Eddie looks at him, and he feels his face flush a bit. “I can make you a plate,” Steve offers with a sweet smile, his hand rubbing a gentle circle against Eddie’s back.

Eddie hesitates, glancing at the table. “I’m alright,” Eddie says, shaking his head. He is a bit hungry, actually, but that newness of being around people he’s not used to being around makes him feel a little awkward. It’s stupid, that social anxiety can make him feel so out of place accepting snacks when they’re offered.

“Oh,” Steve says, frowning at him. “Okay. I’m gonna go grab some stuff for me, then.” He gives Eddie a look, quirking his eyebrow like he’s waiting for him to change his mind. When Eddie just smiles at him and nods, Steve shrugs, turning to go collect some snacks.

Chrissy is still standing there, smiling at him when Eddie turns back around. “You two are cute,” she says, a knowing look in her eyes.

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he’s positive his cheeks are tinted pink with embarrassment. “Oh, no,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “We’re not-“

Another voice joins the conversation, then, cutting Eddie off. He’s a little relieved, but he can feel that familiar panic settling in, knowing that he wasn’t able to correct Chrissy.

“There you are,” Robin says, her voice much softer than how she’d spoken to Steve. She walks over to Chrissy, pressing a kiss to her cheek as soon as she’s close enough. “Your mom said you got hot?” Robin speaks quietly, one of her hands lifting to feel Chrissy’s temperature.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, but the obvious grin on her face is a dead giveaway of how she really feels about Robin’s attention. “Yeah, your kid gave me a hot flash. You gonna deal with that?” She gives Robin this look, almost a smirk if it wasn’t so sweet.

Robin sighs, shaking her head as she tuts disappointedly. Then, she crouches, so that she’s eye-level with Chrissy’s swollen stomach. “Alright, rugrat. I know we’ve talked about this already, so I don’t know why you just keep disobeying me. But you’ve gotta go easy on your Mama, okay? It’s hard, you know, being so pregnant you waddle, and your feet swell, and you have to pee all the time, and-“

“And I think you’ve made your point, dear,” Chrissy giggles, her hand dropping to pet through Robin’s hair affectionately. Robin is staring up at her, the picture of devotion.

Eddie has to look away.

He knows he must reek with jealousy, and he tries his best to get his mind on something else, anything else.

That’s easy enough when he feels a hand on his back. He startles a little, but deflates when he glances over his shoulder to find Steve watching him. He’s got this sort of worried, sympathetic look on his face, and Eddie nearly swears. Of course Steve can smell it on him.

“How about we go mingle?” Steve asks softly, his thumb stroking a soothing pattern up and down the base of Eddie’s spine.

Eddie nods, his throat too tight to speak. Chrissy and Robin are still chatting quietly, and as they leave the kitchen, Eddie hears the unmistakable sound of a kiss. He tries not to roll his eyes or pout, or anything else that would be ridiculous and uncalled for, but that doesn’t change the fact that he wants to do those things.

As Steve leads them into the living room, his hand leaves Eddie’s back. Their hands bump, and reflexively, Eddie reaches to hold Steve’s, a little hurt when Steve pulls away. Eddie glances at him, then down at their hands, where Steve is subtly rubbing their wrists together. When Eddie glances back up, Steve just gives him a little smile.

“Since I can’t properly scent you right now. I can tell you’re nervous, so maybe…” he trails off, shrugging. “I thought this would help.”

Eddie’s throat feels tight at the small but meaningful gesture. “Thank you,” he breathes. He moves his hand, intending to just give Steve’s hand a little squeeze, but Steve apparently has other plans, intertwining their fingers.

“C’mon. I see someone I know,” Steve days, tugging him gently along after him.

~~~

After meeting a couple of Steve and Robin’s friends, Eddie and Steve find a spot on the nearest loveseat to settle in for the main events. Robin and Chrissy have rejoined the main group at this point, and are sitting together on a big armchair, one that is an absolutely atrocious shade of purple.

“Alright, guys. Time for some baby shower games!” Robin announces, the very picture of excitement as she begins to hand out little cards of some sort.

Eddie leans into Steve’s space, curious and a little cautious of the events to come. “What exactly are we doing?” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear. They’re pressed together, shoulder to hip to knee, and Eddie pretends like it’s just to accommodate for the other people sitting on this loveseat, even though he is well aware that there’s space for them to separate a little.

Steve shrugs, popping a cheese cube into his mouth. “Not sure,” Steve murmurs back. “Robin is the one who came up with most of these games, so I have no idea what we’re up against.” He holds the plate out for Eddie. “Here, have a snack.”

“Oh, I don’t-” Eddie says, starting to refuse, even as he eyes the peanut butter cookies that are sitting there mocking him.

Steve rolls his eyes, and to Eddie’s surprise, reaches right for said peanut butter cookie, holding it out for Eddie to take. When Eddie glances at him, confused, Steve shakes his head with a little smile. “You know I don’t really like sweet stuff much. I got the cookies for you.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. He’s just a little taken aback by the sweetness of the gesture, but honestly, at this rate he shouldn’t even be surprised. “Thank you,” he mumbles, taking the cookie without any further protest.

“You’re welcome,” Steve says with a pleased smile on his face.

“Dingus. Eddie,” Robin says cordially as she comes by, handing each of them a little card. She starts off again, going to the next people, but Eddie stops her.

“Wait, Robin, what are we doing?”

Robin grins. “Alright, everyone,” she says loudly, the rest of the guests quieting down to listen to what she has to say. “For the first game, we’re starting off easy. You all will have five minutes to match the name of the baby animal on the right with the name of the adult animal on the left. Whoever gets them all correct first gets a prize!”

There’s a murmur of excitement around the room, and Eddie glances around, suddenly wondering where the twins are. “The kids would be great at this,” he mumbles to Steve.

Steve laughs at that, tilting his head to look at Eddie’s card, rather than his own. “True.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Eddie asks, glancing at Steve.

They’re closer together than Eddie thought, and he has to pull back a bit so that their noses don’t brush. If Steve feels weird about that, he doesn’t let on about it, instead just jutting his chin up like he’s nodding upstairs. “There’s a game room upstairs,” he explains. “That’s where they always go to play when they come over to Robin’s, so that’s probably where they’re at now.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, nodding. “Okay, then.” He feels a little awkward, suddenly, knowing that the kids are obviously fine unsupervised, which makes his presence at the baby shower feel sort of… pointless.

“Alright,” Robin is saying, back at her perch beside her girlfriend. “Ready… set… go!” She makes a little trumpet noise, and everyone immediately gets to work on their activity cards, some people teaming up, while others cover their card up, hiding it from any cheating eyes. Eddie can’t decide which he finds funnier.

He has no real intention of winning, or even playing, but then he hears Steve mumble something to him. “Hm?” he asks, turning his head.

Steve nods at the card, eating a cracker. “The first one is ‘kid’ I’m pretty sure.”

Eddie blinks. “You’re not gonna put that on your card, then?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Steve waves a hand dismissively. “Nah. We can just share the prize. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?” he teases with that little signature Harrington grin. Eddie likes him so much it hurts.

“Sure,” Eddie says after a few long seconds of staring at him like a lovesick puppy.

They work together after that, struggling through some of the weird-sounding animal names with a naive sense of intelligence.

“What the fuck is a nymph?” Eddie whisper-shouts at Steve, skimming the list for anything even mildly more familiar. They’d worked out all the easy ones already: kitten, cub, lamb, fawn - all the normal things that he’d actually heard of before.

Steve snickers, trying to hide it behind his hand, with little success. “I don’t know!” he says, shaking his head. “Skip that one, skip it.”

Eddie huffs, then scans the list of options again. “The rest of these aren’t much better. A fry? A poult? A cria? They’ve gotta be making this shit up.”

“A fry,” Steve giggles, clearly far more amused by this silly game than Eddie is. “Well, which one of these can you actually fry?”

Eddie stares at him. “Baby animals, Steve. Baby animals. And you want me to think about which one of them can be fried?”

Either his tone or his words send Steve over the edge again, cackling loudly enough that the couple at the other end of the loveseat send them dirty looks. Eddie sends one of his own back.

“God, fine,” Eddie mumbles. “Turkey? Chicken? Chicken can be fried,” he says consideringly.

“Oh, wait, but isn’t - yeah, no, chick is a chicken,” Steve says, gesturing to one of their options.

Eddie nods, crossing that one off. “Hm… Fish? Fish can be fried, right?”

“That’s gotta be it!” Steve says, nodding excitedly.

“If it’s not, and we lose, it’s on you,” Eddie says, even as he writes down that as his answer.

Steve just giggles again, but nods. “Sure, sure,” he says, easily enough.

Eddie scans the list again, sighing. “That still leaves us with foal, poult, infant, cria, whelp, and nymph.” He turns his head to look at Steve. “Any other nuggets of wisdom, Mr. Which-One-Can-Be-Fried?”

“Hey!” Steve says with a laugh. “It worked!”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “We don’t even know if it’s right,” he reminds him.

Steve waves him off. “Sure we do. Alright. Foal, poult, infant - infant, that’s us, right? Technically?”

“Technically, but humans aren’t on the list,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “So… something close to humans… Monkeys? That’s the only one close to humans on here.”

Steve shrugs. “Sounds good to me. What else?”

Eddie hums. “Well… pup is still on here, too. But there aren’t humans, or any kind of dog on the list…”

“Wait, isn’t a pup and a whelp the same thing?” Steve asks, confused.

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve got no clue. If there are, we still don’t have a spot for them, since there’s no dogs.”

Steve stares hard at the list, an adorable little wrinkle forming between his eyes. “Skip,” he decides eventually. We’ll come back to it. What next?”

They eventually work it out to the best of their ability, matching all the animals until they’re relatively satisfied with the answers. They have a brief spat over foal and poult, Steve swearing that a poult is a horse until Eddie realizes he’s thinking of a colt. Then, Steve concedes when Eddie argues that with chicken taken, turkey is the only type of poultry on the list, so poult has to go with that.

Overall, their combined logic makes enough sense to get them through it.

They aren’t the first ones to finish, but by the time they present it to Robin and Chrissy, no one has gotten every animal matched correctly yet, which doesn’t give Eddie a lot of confidence in them, if he’s honest.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Robin says as she scans their answers. “We’ve got the winner of our first game!” She calls excitedly.

“What?” Eddie asks, stunned.

Steve cheers, shaking Eddie’s wrist with barely-contained excitement. It’s cute.

“Steve and Eddie somehow are the first people to match every animal correctly,” Robin announces. “So, as their prize…” she digs around in a little basket beside her and Chrissy’s chair, sparing Eddie and Steve a little grin. “I swear this wasn’t rigged,” she tells them. “For this prize, we decided on tickets to the Indianapolis Zoo!”

“Oh, fun!” Eddie says, unable to contain his excitement. He hadn’t been to the zoo since he was a child, but he remembered loving it back then.

“Right?” Chrissy says, clearly pleased. “We thought it was pretty perfect for this game.”

“Here,” Robin says, handing them to Steve. “We weren’t sure who would win, but most of the friends and family we invited have a family of like two to four… so we got four tickets.”

Steve smiles at her, then turns a softer version of that smile onto Eddie. “Well, that worked out nicely, didn’t it, honey?” he says.

Eddie smiles, barely registering the surprised look Robin gives them.

Before Eddie can think to react to that, though, there’s the sound of footsteps stampeding down the stairs, and loud sniffling. Everyone in the room turns towards the noise, all the parents on high-alert to see which kid needs comforting, but Eddie already knows in his heart that it’s one of his.

Sure enough, Ivy comes around the corner, her eyes wet with tears, her face red as she holds a hand to her head. “Mommy,” she cries as soon as she lays eyes on them, rushing straight towards Eddie.

Eddie has no time to process that, immediately jumping into his omega instincts, crouching down to scoop her up into a hug, shushing her gently. “Oh, sweet girl, what is it?” he murmurs to her. He moves away from Chrissy and Robin, mumbling a quick, “sorry, we’ll be right back,” as he leaves the room. He can feel several sets of eyes following his trip out, but luckily most of the guests got back to chatting immediately after the reassurance that it wasn’t their child in need of comforting.

“Me and Jasmine were- were playin’ with Sophie, and- and then I fell and- the bump hurts really bad!” Ivy nearly wails, burying her tear-streaked face into Eddie’s shoulder as he walks into the kitchen with her.

He can sense Steve behind them, more just a mental awareness at first, until Steve’s hand comes up to rub Eddie’s back gently. “Woah, deep breaths, baby,” Steve tells her gently, his other hand coming up to rub her back as well. He and Eddie make eye contact, and where Eddie expects to see something like hurt or jealousy from Ivy calling him Mommy, all Eddie finds is fondness.

“You’re okay, darling,” Eddie says softly, brushing her hair back away from her face. “Now slow down, and tell us what happened.”

After a couple more hiccups and some pauses to breathe, they get the full story. Apparently, they were playing jungle explorers, using the sofa upstairs as their jungle gym, and apparently, that didn’t work out very well. The bump on Ivy’s head is small, barely even a bump at all really, but Steve and Eddie baby and coddle her anyway, taking turns kissing it better and reassuring her that she’ll be alright.

Eventually, she feels well enough to go back upstairs to play, but Eddie has her splash cool water on her face, as well as drink a cup of water, first. As soon as she’s finished with that, he sets her down, ruffling her hair. “Alright. You’re fine, just play more carefully, okay, sweetheart?”

Ivy nods, waving at them before she heads back for the stairs. Eddie sighs as he watches her go, acutely aware of the eyes on him.

He doesn’t really want to, but he turns to face Steve, feeling his face heat a little at the soft look he finds pointed his way. “What?” Eddie asks, a little defensively.

Steve smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing at all, baby. Just…” he looks a little helpless for a moment, shrugging. “You’re a good co-parent, that’s all. My daughters are lucky to have you.”

Eddie doesn’t consider himself a particularly emotional person usually, but he feels like he might burst into tears just thinking about that. “I- I’m not-“

Steve cuts him off immediately. “No, you are,” he says, firm but gentle. “No arguments, no protesting. You are a great parent, Eddie. The end.”

As much as Eddie still wants to argue, mainly just because he feels so awkward accepting such genuine praise, he doesn’t. Instead, he forces himself to meet Steve’s eyes when he smiles. “Thanks, Stevie.”

Steve returns the smile, then reaches for his hand, tugging him back towards the living room. “C’mon. I think we’re gonna play some more games, and I wanna win some more prizes.” His eyes are bright with excitement, his lips quirking up mischievously, and Eddie can think of nothing he’d like more than to follow Steve wherever he wants to go.

~~~

They do play more baby shower games, as it turns out. Unfortunately, though, Eddie and Steve are pretty much useless at the new games. They’re mostly of the guessing variety - guessing which of the parents-to-be will do which types of baby duties more often, some true or false baby trivia questions, and an atrocious baby-item-themed game of The Price is Right.

“God, I don’t even know,” Steve mumbles when he scans the list of items for that game. Eddie can tell he’s losing steam, having lost the previous two baby shower games in a row. “It’s been so long since I had to buy any of these things for the girls, so I don’t know how much this stuff is now.”

Eddie hums. “Well, we know about what strollers cost,” he says, jotting down the price of the stroller they’d just bought for Robin and Chrissy. “And the onesies were about two or three dollars, depending on the style…”

Between the two of them, they hazard guesses for each item, but when Steve takes the card up to check it with Chrissy and Robin, his shoulders slump, and Eddie can tell they didn’t win this one either. Chrissy gives Steve a sympathetic pat on the arm, and Robin definitely says something mildly insulting to him, and Eddie smiles when he sees his alp- er- Steve - pouting as he returns.

“She said I wasn’t even close on some of them,” he complains when he comes back, flopping down beside Eddie, pressing their knees together.

Eddie makes a sympathetic little noise, patting his knee. “Aww, it’s okay. At least we got tickets to the zoo. And the snacks have been pretty good, too.”

Steve turns his head where it’s resting on the back of the loveseat, smiling up at Eddie. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “And the company isn’t bad, either.”

Eddie starts to agree, then pauses, glancing back at Steve’s face again. He’s not talking about the other people here, that’s for sure. He has such a soft look on his face, his expression open and vulnerable, and Eddie wishes… he wishes-

“Alright, everyone,” Robin says. She announces the winner of that game, but Eddie is barely paying attention, his gaze flicking back to Steve’s repeatedly. Steve’s eyes don’t waver from him, he notices. “So, we’re gonna move on to opening gifts, but you guys really showed out in that department, so you might want to grab some more refreshments and settle in; we might be here a while!”

Most of the guests laugh at that, and Eddie does too, albeit a little belatedly. He twists his rings on his fingers a little, trying to avoid Steve’s pointed gaze. There’s a tension between them now, one that he’s felt since practically the first week, but he doesn’t know how to break it, or even loosen it; he just knows he can’t do it here.

Eddie startles when he feels a hand on his thigh. Steve is still studying him, but he’s not nearly as intense as he was just a few minutes ago. “I’m gonna go get us some more snacks, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie echoes. He feels a little untethered, like none of this is real. Like he’s just acting out the motions of a normal, content baby shower-attendee, completely at ease with the feelings currently kicking up dust in the hollow part of his chest. “Can you get me some lemonade?” he asks.

Steve smiles and nods. “Sure, baby. And some more peanut butter cookies?”

Eddie feels his face flush, a little embarrassed at being called out for his obsession with peanut butter, but he nods just the same. “Yes, please.”

“Be right back,” Steve says. He gives Eddie’s thigh a gentle squeeze before making his way to the kitchen. Eddie tries to breathe normally, getting himself under control. What the hell was it about Steve taking care of him that made him feel this unhinged? He doesn’t know, and part of him doesn’t want to find out. The bigger, omega-driven part, is banging at the bars of its cage, begging to be let out, to crawl into whatever spaces Steve’s previous mate vacated, to fulfill any needs that aren’t being met.

Eddie shakes his head, probably appearing just a little insane to anyone who might be paying him any attention. He needs to get a grip.

Luckily, he’s pulled from his spiral by one of his favorite voices in the world.

“Eddie, I’m sleepy,” Jasmine says as she approaches him.

“Aww,” Eddie coos at her, holding his arms out. “C’mere, then, you can come rest for a bit.”

She allows him to pull her into his lap easily, immediately dropping her head to his shoulder and snuggling in. Eddie smiles, wrapping his arms around her and holding her to his chest in a close embrace. He begins humming softly, stroking her hair as he glances around the room, wondering what’s taking Steve so long. He notices Robin is gone, and when he notices that, he also realizes that her better half is making her way towards him now.

“Hi,” Chrissy greets with a warm smile as she comes to a stop in front of them, her hands resting gently on her swollen stomach. “Jasmine, right?” she asks, her voice softer as she leans over a bit to make eye contact with her.

Jasmine nods. “Yes,” she confirms before nuzzling back into Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie gives Chrissy an apologetic smile. “Sorry, she’s tired. Lot of excitement going on today,” he explains.

Chrissy nods, smiling. “Oh, I’m sure.” She gives Eddie a look then, one that he would almost call mischievous if he knew her better. “At least she’s got a good mama to take care of her,” she says sweetly.

Eddie’s first instinct is to correct her, of course. And he starts to, but all that he gets out is: “I’m not-“ before Jasmine is interrupting him.

“Wish you were,” she mumbles, clinging to him tighter.

Eddie feels his face flush. “Jazz,” he scolds gently.

Jasmine just shrugs. “‘S true,” she says.

Chrissy is giving him a soft look when Eddie finally feels brave enough to make eye contact again. “I, um…” he starts, but has no idea how to finish the sentence. He doesn’t know how much Chrissy knows about Steve and his daughters, and he doesn’t want to go around spreading his personal business. At the same time, though, he doesn’t want to seem like he’s trying to- to replace the twins’ real mom. The very idea makes him a little sick.

“They really love you, Eddie,” Chrissy says kindly. “I could see if that first time at the store- clearly you’re doing something right.”

Eddie can’t help but smile gratefully at that. No matter how many times he hears it, he’ll always love hearing that he’s actually doing a good job with this whole parenting thing. “Thanks,” he says softly, nuzzling Jasmine’s hair.

“Steve is really lucky to have found such a good mate,” Chrissy continues.

Eddie feels Jasmine freeze at that, or at least he thinks he does. It might just be the side effect of himself freezing up, looking up at Chrissy with what he suspects is panic in his eyes. “I- we’re not together,” he squeaks out, hyper-aware of the little ears tuning into this conversation.

The sweet smile finally drops off Chrissy’s face, replaced by confusion. “You’re not?” She asks, her eyebrows furrowing together.

Eddie shakes his head adamantly. “No, we’re just- I just work for him, that’s all.” He wonders if everyone in the room can smell that lie.

“Oh,” Chrissy says. She’s clearly baffled by this information, and Eddie catches the way she glances behind her, as if looking for someone. “That’s my mistake, really, I thought-“

“It’s okay,” Eddie rushes to say. He’s desperate for this conversation to just end already. If he thought it was awkward talking to Gareth about all of his Steve-related struggles, that was nothing compared to the way it feels to be having this conversation with Steve’s best friend’s partner, all whilst Steve’s child listens. No contest for awkwardness, that’s for sure.

“Sorry,” Chrissy says, fixing him with a sympathetic little smile that immediately sours his mood. There’s no way this virtual stranger can tell how he feels about Steve- right?

“Thumbelina,” a voice calls from across the room. Chrissy and Eddie both glance over to find Robin smiling in their direction, her eyes trained on Chrissy. Eddie’s gaze is stolen immediately when he sees Steve standing in the doorway of the kitchen, an annoyed expression on his face. Uh-oh. “The darling mother of my child, it’s time for presents!” Robin sing-songs.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, but her giggle is far more telling. “That’s me,” she says, needlessly. “I hope you guys enjoy the rest of the party. Don’t forget to stop and say goodbye on your way out, okay?”

Eddie nods, but his brain is hyper-focused on Steve as the other man makes his way towards them. “Yeah, sure,” Eddie says distractedly.

Chrissy smiles at Steve as she passes him, and though he mirrors it politely, Eddie can tell it’s fake. Steve takes his spot beside Eddie once more, giving his daughter a soft look.

“Here,” he says, holding a cup of lemonade out for Eddie.

“Oh, um,” Eddie starts, his hands a little full.

Steve takes note of his predicament and tilts his head to look at his daughter. “Honey, how about you come snuggle with Daddy for a minute? Let your…” he pauses, his eyes darting to Eddie’s briefly. “Er. Let Eddie have a chance to eat, yeah?”

Eddie can feel the way her little hand tightens its grip on his shirt. “Wanna stay here,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep. Part of Eddie is relieved- maybe she had been mostly asleep during that conversation with Chrissy.

“I know, but-“ Steve starts, trying to bargain with her.

“Mommy is comfier,” Jasmine whines at him. She nuzzles against Eddie’s shirt, and Eddie realizes she’s trying to scent him. “And Mommy smells good.”

Eddie looks at Steve, helpless. He’s still a little worried, vaguely, that Steve might finally get upset at hearing his kids call Eddie that name- that this will be the time he finally snaps, but instead he just sighs, a defeated smile on his face.

“I know,” Steve mumbles, almost to himself. He shrugs at Eddie. “I can take her, hon. She might not like it, but it’ll be fine.”

Jasmine tights her grip, and Eddie laughs quietly. “She’s fine, I just-“ He cuts himself off as he nudges her back, shifting her to sit up a little. “Can you sit up for me, sweetheart? And here, lean back against this arm and…” he shuffles her until she’s leaning back against his right arm, which he props up onto the arm of the loveseat. “Perfect. Now I can use my left hand, and you don’t have to go anywhere,” he says, smiling at her.

She blinks sleepily at him, nodding twice before snuggling back in, clearly not entirely impressed with his perfect solution. Eddie snorts, shaking his head a little as he turns back to Steve.

Steve is staring at him, his eyes soft and a little glassy. He startles a little when he realizes Eddie is staring back at him, clearing his throat. “Here,” Steve says, handing him the lemonade finally.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, taking a long sip. “I was about to die of thirst,” he jokes. Steve nods, and Eddie thinks he’s about to say something else when he hears their names being called.

They both snap their heads up to look at where Robin is clearly talking to them, her hands on her hips, the picture of impatience. “Thanks for joining the rest of the world,” she teases. “We’re opening up your gifts next.”

“Oh!” Eddie says, suddenly excited. “I hope you guys like them- the girls helped pick out the smaller ones.”

“And the big one was mostly me,” Steve admits, scratching the back of his neck as he watches Robin help Chrissy tear off the wrapping paper of the stroller. “I wasn’t sure if you already had one, but we’ve got the receipt if you need to take it back.”

Robin rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Did you even check the registry?” She asks, voice full of mock-disappointment.

Steve sucks on his teeth, hiding his sheepish grin. “Uh… you had a registry?”

Everyone gets a good laugh out of that, but then it’s the moment of truth. The wrapping paper is all over the ground, and Eddie watches carefully as Chrissy and Robin get a good look at what it is.

“Oh, Steve,” Robin says. From her tone alone, Eddie can tell that they’ve already got one. He presses his knee to Steve’s in an attempt at comfort, as he knows how excited Steve was about this gift. “Chrissy’s parents got us a stroller already,” Robin says, clearly trying to be gentle. “But it was really similar to this one! Like, you’ve got great taste in strollers,” she jokes.

Eddie actually laughs at that, and he can tell Steve wants to as well, but is still just a tad bit too disappointed to do so. “Yeah, I kinda figured you guys might already have one. Might have to take a look at that “registry” stuff next time.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but nods. “Yeah, it might be helpful, dingus.”

Steve shrugs. “Like I said, you guys can return it and just use the money to get whatever else you guys need. Or if you want me to take it back and just give you the money-“ he’s saying, listing off every possible solution to the stroller faux pas, when Chrissy interrupts them.

“Are you sure you guys won’t be needing it?” She asks, her voice impossibly sweet.

There’s a brief silence as everyone in the room who is still listening takes a moment to process that. It’s a short moment, because Robin is seemingly the first one to crack, snorting a very unattractive laugh into her hand.

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding it in the slightest as she turns to grin at her girlfriend, who looks incredibly proud of herself.

Eddie is steadfastly refusing to meet Steve’s gaze, despite the fact that he can feel it burning into the side of his face. He knows he’s blushing, and he can’t really justify why, past the mild embarrassment of the implication that he and Steve would be doing things that would put them in the market for a stroller. Things that Eddie normally only allows himself to think about in the comfort of the shower, alone.

“Uh, pretty sure,” Steve finally manages to say, although Eddie could swear he sounds a little choked.

“We’ll take it back and exchange it for some other necessities,” Robin says, finally showing mercy. “Thank you, both of you. It was a really thoughtful gift.” This is said with a genuinity Eddie wouldn’t think anyone could fake, and so it’s easy to smile back at her.

The rest of the baby shower goes pretty quickly, after that. Robin and Chrissy open the onesies that the twins picked out, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over them kindly, although Jasmine is only half-awake to see it, and Ivy is still somewhere upstairs. The present-unwrapping portion of the evening lasts for nearly half an hour more, but Eddie is so lost in his own thoughts that he couldn’t repeat any of the gifts they’d been given to save his life.

Eventually, when the gifts have all been opened and people are starting to leave, Steve leans in close and murmurs, “I think it’s getting time to head home, honey.”

Eddie nods. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was until now, but he’s definitely feeling it, his shoulders slumped and his arm asleep where Jasmine is still laying against it. “Mm. That sounds good to me,” he replies quietly, bumping his head against Steve’s shoulder for a brief moment of reprieve.

Steve rests his head against Eddie’s for just a moment, then sighs. “I’ll go hunt down our other kid. You wanna go say goodbye to Chrissy and Robin and take this one out to the car?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a nod. It takes him a minute to stand and get his bearings, trying to be as steady as possible so that he doesn’t wake Jasmine. Steve watches him with soft eyes, but Eddie gives him a reassuring smile once he’s steady. “I’ll see you in the car,” he says.

“Don’t forget to grab my keys out of my coat pocket on your way out the door,” Steve reminds him before heading upstairs.

Eddie makes a mental note to do that before turning around, glancing around the room for Robin and Chrissy. He finds them close to the foyer, clearly taken up post there to say goodbye to people as they leave. When he gets close, Chrissy looks up, her face brightening into a smile as she comes over.

“Did you have a good time?” She asks, ever the sweetheart.

“I did.” Eddie gives her a smile. “It was lots of fun, and my compliments go to whoever put those snacks together.”

Chrissy grins. “That was mostly Robin’s mom. My mother can’t cook for shit.”

Eddie laughs at that. “Same. Did you and Robin get everything you’ll need for the baby?”

“Oh, for sure,” Chrissy nods. “Probably too much, to be honest.” She hesitates, then says, a little quieter, “I was sort of being serious about what I said earlier.”

“What?” Eddie’s heart drops a little. Surely she’s not referring to the baby stroller thing?

“I know you said you’re not together,” she explains, talking quickly. “And I believe you. But I can also tell that there’s more to it than that, and Robin thinks so too. Now, I haven’t known either of you very long, but they’ve known each other for years.”

“Chrissy…” Eddie says, almost a warning. His heart is swelling with something dangerously close to hope, and he knows better.

“I know, I know,” Chrissy says, waving a hand before bringing it down to cradle her belly. “And we may be wrong. But on the off-chance that we’re right… Let’s just say that we’ll have plenty of hand-me-downs, if you ever find yourself in need of some.” She takes a deep breath, then smiles. “Okay, there. I’m done with my lecture.”

Eddie smiles at her, even though it’s kind of half-hearted. “Thanks, Chrissy. I… I appreciate the sentiment, really.”

She nods, and then surprises Eddie when she leans in for a quick hug. He half-expects her to whisper some other mind-boggling relationship advice, but instead she just gives him a polite goodbye, saying she hopes they get to see each other again soon.

He moves on to Robin, who is already looking at him with something like fond exasperation. “I see someone’s already a little attached to you,” she teases, petting Jasmine’s hair gently.

“A little bit, yeah,” Eddie admits. “It was a beautiful baby shower, by the way. I know I wasn’t really invited, but I appreciate you guys letting me come.”

Robin rolls her eyes, waving her hand dismissively. “Of course you were invited. If Steve is invited, you’re invited, okay?”

Eddie nods, trying to hide his smile. He loves the sound of that, of just being automatically included in the friends and family events that Steve seems to cherish so much. It’s only temporary, he reminds himself, but he’ll enjoy it while it lasts. “Alright,” he says. “Still, thank you for being such good hosts. The snacks were great, and I know the girls are going to be so excited for that trip to the z-o-o.” He’s not sure why he spells it out, since if Jasmine was awake, she’d probably figure out what he was spelling, but he does it, nevertheless.

Robin smiles at him, a softer thing than he’s expecting from someone he still doesn’t know very well. “I knew you’d be perfect for this job,” she says, surprising him. “As soon as I met you, and as soon as Steve told me how the interview went, I just knew you’d be the one.”

“The one?” he asks. She gives the word a certain weight, a certain inflection, that makes him wonder what exactly she means by that.

Instead of answering him, she just shakes her head, smiling as she pulls him in for a quick hug. “Go, you two look exhausted, and I know Dingus probably wants to get home before traffic gets too bad.”

Eddie wants to argue for the sake of figuring out what the one actually means, but he lets himself be ushered towards the door, remembering to grab Steve’s keys out of his coat pocket at the last minute. He wraps Jasmine’s coat around her shoulders as best he can, throwing his own over his arm to put on once he gets her in the car.

It’s even colder outside than it was before, and Jasmine whines a little when Eddie first sets her into the backseat. “I know, sweetheart, Mommy knows it’s cold. I’m gonna turn the heat on in just a minute.”

He doesn’t catch himself until after he’s already in the passenger seat, the car cranked and heat set to full blast. It’s only then that he registers what he’d just called himself, without thinking.

Eddie doesn’t even get the chance to have a crisis about it. Before he can do anything, the back door on the opposite side is opening, and Ivy is climbing in, clearly exhausted too. “Hi, honey,” Eddie says, in a voice that doesn’t even sound like his. “Did you have fun playing?”

Ivy nods, but almost immediately leans to the side, resting her head against the door. “Uh-huh. Tired, now.”

He laughs quietly at that, understanding it as the signal it is to leave her alone. The driver’s side door opens, and Steve slides in smoothly, his hands coming up to hover in front of the vents. “Shit, it’s cold out there,” he murmurs. “Thanks for turning the heat on in here, baby.”

“Mhm,” Eddie replies, a little weak at the pet name that he still hasn’t gotten completely used to yet.

Steve looks over at him, and Eddie can’t exactly parse out the expression he wears. It’s almost familiar, his eyes kind and hyper-focused on Eddie, but there’s something else there, too, something softer, more intimate.

On a whim, Eddie reaches out, lacing his fingers between Steve’s. It’s a shot in the dark, but Eddie thinks he wants to be brave. At least with the little things. And although being brave doesn’t always work out for him, it does this time, as Steve squeezes his hand, giving him a sweet smile.

“Let’s go home.”

[chaos-is-beautifvl]

𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐨) 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐲…

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve harrington x fem!reader, possible eddie munson x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you have a secret. that secret has been shared with only two people - your diary and your best friend, just not the one it’s about. but what happens when your secret isn’t so secret anymore?

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠: wheeler!reader, angst, so much drama, special appearance: eddie, we do not like carol or tommy in this fic, possibly unrequited love (sorry y’all)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.3k (4343)

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 💌: requested by anon a few months back. the request originally asked for byers!reader but i saw nancy and thought they asked for wheeler!reader. i had written 3000 words exactly, and the thought of changing it gave me serious writer’s block. nevertheless, here it is. very plot heavy bc i wanted to show reader and steve’s relationship. enjoy!

p.s. check out my writing here and my other steve story: dancing’s not a crime here

Being a Wheeler is a heck of a job. 

As the second oldest of four children, you don’t know whether to consider yourself the middle child or the outcast. You’ll go with the latter. After all, much to your mother’s chagrin, those are the types of people you spend most of your time with.

The only exception is the one and only Steve Harrington. It’s a miracle the two of you even became friends. But all thanks to your chemistry teacher, who thought the two of you would be a perfect pair, or at least, she only paired you two together because Steve was goofing around, and you were adamant about working alone.

Either way, since then, you and Steve have become best buds. Such an unlikely pair turned heads and brought about glares and eye rolls. But, being who you are and given that your best friend is Eddie Munson, the looks and whispers don’t phase you.

Your life is going well. Your grades are improving - you only get the occasional B, which is great because now your mom is off your case. You’re closer to your little brother, which is a feat because he and his friends are rowdy. And you have two incredible best friends who annoy the crap out of you. Other than that, you have no issues.

Actually, you do have an issue. Your issue is currently climbing through your bedroom window.

You lazily watch as Steve clambers into your room. His movements are clumsy and all over the place. If your record player played a quieter track, he’d give himself away.

Once he rights himself, he gives you a wide grin, and you make a point to blink at him, a silent communication of ‘what the hell’?

Steve heads over to your vanity, one that has papers and books haphazardly scattered across it. He bends down to check out his hair, shaping it together as if the tons of Farrah Fawcett hairspray he uses isn’t damn near gluing the strands together.

“Hello to you too, Harrington. What a joy it is to see you tonight.” Your tone is about as dry as burnt toast, prompting Steve to look at your unamused expression through the mirror.

“You’re pissed…” The way he tests the words indicates that he isn’t sure why you’re looking at him the way you are. You huff, nodding in response.

“Why are you even here?”

“Uh…” Steve finally turns away from the mirror to properly look at you. While you seem pissed off, he’s known you long enough to know it’s something else. “What, can’t see my favorite girl?”

“No, Steve, you can’t because you’re always here for Nancy!”

His mouth falls open at your words, making you regret airing your grievances. That’s until he smiles all lopsided-like, and your heart betrays you by beating a little faster than it should.

“You jealous or something?”

Your eye twitches, and you sigh as you fall back on your bed. “You’re awful, you know?” You hear a laugh, and your heart pitter-patters again, betraying you. “And I’m not ‘jealous or something’.” You make your voice octaves deeper to mimic him. “I’m just annoyed.”

The bed dips when Steve joins you. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” You don’t look convinced, and he nudges you. “I’m serious. I might be dating your sister, but you’re still my favorite Wheeler.”

“Whatever. I still don’t believe you. But go before Nancy has a fit.”

“Fine, fine. Rush me, why don’t you?” He hovers by your door, listening to ensure the coast is clear. Before he heads out, he winks at you, giving one of his signature charming grins. “See you later, Wheeler.”

You can’t stop a grin of your own from emerging as you raise a hand as if you’re going to wave. Instead, you flip the bird, “Get out, Harrington.”

Once he leaves, you grab a pillow, burying your face inside to scream. Of all people, why do you have a crush on him? That’s a question answered when you pull out your diary, writing down the feelings you’ll never confess.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Though Steve hadn’t said he’d spend more time with you, he did make an effort. He even went as far as joining you and your friends instead of his own for lunch.

You’re having a conversation with Steve when someone calls him over. Annoyance tugs at you, but before Steve goes, he makes a point to salute you. The simple gesture makes you smile like a schoolgirl, and Eddie quickly calls you out.

“This is sickening to watch.” The brunet pretends to vomit, covering his eyes like a distressed maiden.

Your smile quickly wipes away as you roll your eyes, tossing a grape at Eddie, who somehow manages to catch it in his mouth - the lucky bastard.

“Don’t get mad at me because you’re in love with-” Before he can finish his sentence, you slap your hands over his mouth, shushing. 

“-Be quiet!”

Eddie peels your hands off him, rolling his lips to prevent his laughter from escaping. “I wasn’t going to say you know who’s name. No need to attack me.”

“Yet, for some reason, I don’t believe you.”

Eddie starts chuckling at your tone, and you swat at him, laughter bubbling in your chest. “Stop laughing, you ass.”

From afar, Steve watches the two of you laugh. He’s trying to figure out why his chest feels tight when Carol waves her hand to get his attention.

He directs his gaze to the ginger, who smacks her gum loudly. “What is up with you and those Wheelers? First, you’re friends with one. And now, you’re dating one.”

Tommy chimes in, “Yeah, man. Still can’t believe your friends with that freak.”

Steve isn’t able to defend himself when Carol interrupts. “Tommy’s right, Steve. Nancy was already a stretch, but that freak-” She smacks her gum again, nodding her head over to you. “-she’s a basketcase.”

Now, Steve is used to his friends and their judgmental ways. And, though he has a long way to go, he can acknowledge that he’s changed from the ignorant guy who picked on anyone who wasn’t cool enough. Part of - no - a good majority of that change is thanks to one person - you. So, hearing his assholes of friends calling you a freak and making it seem like being around you is hell on Earth riles him up all the wrong ways.

“Shut the hell up.” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms. He looks over at you, and you’re gesticulating as you recount a story to your friends. Steve’s reminded of how amazing you are as they smile and laugh.

“You assholes don’t even know the first thing about her. She’s the best damn person I’ve ever met, and she’s leagues better than both of you without feeling the need to tear down everybody else that breathes.”

Steve turns back to Tommy and Carol, his harsh glare rivaling their shocked expressions. All Carol can do is slowly chew her gum, looking around as if waiting for someone to snap Steve back to his old self.

“You know what? I don’t have time for this. You can plan the goddamn party on your own.” With that, Steve walks away before he says something extreme and heads back to your table.

“I don’t know about you, Tommy,” Carol blows a bubble with her gum, “But I really don’t like her.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You’re by your locker, sifting through your notebooks and chatting with Eddie, when Steve joins you. Being as keen as you are, the odd look Steve gives Eddie doesn’t go unnoticed. You have half a mind to comment, but Steve speaks before you can.

“You’re coming to the party, right?” Steve asks as he leans against the lockers next to yours.

You roll your eyes in annoyance. There’s a party every day, it seems. You shut your locker before turning to Steve. “How about no?”

“Aw, c’mon, it’ll be a total drag without you there, you know?” Steve lays the charm on thick as he sports a heart-clenching grin. But you’ve learned not to act on those lovey-dovey feelings to protect your sanity.

“If it’ll be such a drag, how about you don’t go…?” Eddie offers, reminding you of how awesome a friend he is. He’s always there to pull you out of situations you don’t want to find yourself. And going to a party with Steve, and undoubtedly his horrendous friends, is not your cup of tea.

“Funny, Munson. Don’t think I was talking to your ass.” Steve’s counter catches you and Eddie off guard, and you throw a ‘what the hell’ look at Steve. You know that Steve is still Steve and has some unsatisfactory traits lingering. But him being unnecessarily rude to Eddie is something you’re not okay with.

“Okay, look…” Steve sighs, which has you raising an eyebrow, awaiting his response. “That was messed up, sorry, dude. I was going to ask if you both wanted to come.” 

Eddie brushes it off with a wave, “Don’t sweat it, man. I get it. But we’ll have to get back to you on this one. Y’know, parties aren’t really our scene.”

You agree with Eddie’s statement with a nod. Steve, however, has difficulty not rolling his eyes at Eddie’s use of we. What, did he not think you could answer on your own? And why the hell is he always getting in his way? But most important, why does it piss Steve off so much?

While Steve ponders, he misses the call of his friends. He only reacts when he sees Eddie stumble towards you. He whips his head around to see Tommy and Carol snickering.

“Watch where you’re going, you damn freak,” Tommy sneers, and some jerks in the back laugh along.

Your books fall out of your arms as you prevent Eddie from becoming too familiar with the ground. “You good, Eds?” He nods, allowing you to help him back on steady footing.

You glare at Tommy, who laughs like a fucking hyena. You’re about to rip him a new one when Steve steps in, much to your and everyone else’s surprise.

“Jesus, Tommy… You have to be such a dick all the time?” Steve pointedly asks as he bends down on one knee to pick up your fallen books. It’s a simple act - a fine gentleman courteous enough to help a distressed maiden. But, you don’t know, something about how Steve gathers your things, handing them to you with that oh-so-apologetic expression, makes that simple act not so simple. 

A singular strand of hair loses its hold and flutters down to frame his face, and, like an idiot, all you can form is, “Thanks…” You hear Eddie snort quietly beside you, and as you take your books from Steve’s outreached hands, you make sure to jab the brunet in the side with your elbow.

“Always with the fucking Wheelers…” Carol sighs, popping a bubble of her gum. Like birds migrating, their small group of goons disperses in pursuit of more havoc. You’re grateful for two reasons. 1. They’ll leave you and Eddie alone. 2. Most importantly, you’re sure it’s plain as day how flustered Steve’s actions made you.

You’re about to give Carol and Tommy a piece of your mind when the bell rings for a second time. You curse, haphazardly shoving your books into your backpack.

One more tardy, and Mrs. Nelson might make do on her promise to slap you and Eddie in Saturday detention. That was just something neither of you could afford. You grab Eddie’s hand, and in your haste, you miss the disgruntled look on Steve’s face.

You two run down the hall, and just as you reach the corner, you turn around and lift your hand to wave bye to Steve. “See you never, Harrington!”

The corner of his mouth upturns when your wave turns into flipping the bird. “Oh, and fuck you, Tommy and Carol!”

The two scoff behind Steve, who only smiles, shaking his head. “Gotta love those Wheelers.”

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It’s Friday night, also the day of the party. Now, you’ve made all reservations to stay at home in the comfort and safety of your room. You’re all set to do just that until Steve comes to pick up Nancy. Ever since your mom caught him sneaking through your bedroom window to see your sister, he’s made more effort to appear at the front door. For good reason - Karen Wheeler might be head of PTA and bakes cookies, but she’s one woman you don’t want to be on the wrong side of.

You’re rifling through the pantry when Holly runs to you. She tugs at your pants legs until you turn around to see her with a piece of paper. You eye it warily until she aggressively thrusts her hand out, pointing to the front door before running off.

The crumbled piece of paper reads: “PARTY? Yes or yes?”

You snicker, pocketing the note as you gather your snacks and head for the stairs. On your way, you spot Nancy gracefully gliding down and almost envy her because you always trip over a step. 

Nancy stops you before you can ascend. “Oh, are you staying home again?” The ‘again’ is an ongoing joke with your family since you’re affectionately dubbed a hermit.

“She’s not,” Steve answers as he joins the two of you, and your eye twitches a bit when he swings an arm around her shoulders. “She’s coming to the party.”

Your face furrows as you pretend to think. “Hmm, you know, I don’t think I ever agreed to that. By the way, Harrington, you didn’t give me an option for no way in hell.”

Steve groans, “C’monnn, it’ll be a blast.” You almost let the thought of him being cute as he pouts linger in your mind but instead push it away.

You yawn tiredly, tucking your snacks under one arm as you cover your mouth. Blinking slowly, you squint before sighing in acquiescence. “This isn’t a yes, but I’ll consider it.”

You can see that Steve is fighting the urge to persuade you more, and the way he settles for a cool nod makes you bite back a grin. You wave goodbye to him and Nancy as you trek back to your bedroom.

You’ve nearly reached the top when Steve calls your name from the open front door. You turn around to see a cheeky grin. “Don’t forget Munson’s invited, too. See you there.”

You find it hilarious how sure he is that you’ll show up. There is absolutely no chance in hell you would go to the party. No chance at all-

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The music from the party sends vibrations throughout Eddie’s van, and you’re suddenly regretting coming. You turn to Eddie with an unsure look and almost laugh at his mirrored expression.

“Twenty minutes tops.” Eddie frowns as a couple runs in front of the van, cackling as they head for a cluster of trees further back. It’s so obvious what they’re up to.

“Ten.” You can’t fathom spending more time here, and you haven’t even made it inside yet.

Eddie nods in agreement, moving to get out before he stops to turn to you. He pokes you with a finger to get your attention. “Hey, you feeling okay?”

You furrow your brows, sighing. “I don’t know. Something feels off…”

“Maybe it’s the fact that we’re here… at this party… which, can I just add, is totally not our scene?” Eddie suggests, making you frown slightly.

“I don’t know. Today has been a bit weird. I was looking for something earlier and couldn’t find it, and then I had to see Steve and Nancy being, well, a couple. And, get this, I stumbled down the stairs when you came to pick me up.” You sigh again. “Maybe this was a bad idea…” you mumble, looking out the window to see someone vomiting on the lawn. Your nose crinkles, and you quickly avert your gaze to Eddie before you get sick, too.

“Well, how about this?” Eddie grins, trying to prompt one of your own. “We show face, talk to that guy - the unnamed one you have a major hard-on for. Then we make our grand escape, and guess what?” You look at him amused and respond with a hum. “We head back to my place and spend the rest of the night watching awesome movies and listening to super cool music. Sound good?”

You hate that Eddie knows you so well. With an affectionate eye roll, you breathe in and out. “Sounds good. Let’s go, Munster.”

The party is in full swing inside. It seemed the outside partying was just a warmup for what you two would face. Some acquaintances greet you and Eddie, sending waves and raising their drinks. It’s almost comical because it makes you feel like you’re one of the “cool” kids.

Somehow, you and Eddie find yourselves in the thicket; the music’s bass rumbles through you, and you see far too much bumping and grinding for your liking. You look around for the only reason you attended this shit show and come up short. However, you see Carol, who has an annoyingly cocky grin as she passes you, whispering something to Tommy, who snickers. 

You’re about to comment on it to Eddie when someone calls your name. You look around until you see Steve heading towards you.

“Heyyy, you made it!” His enthusiasm brings about a simpering grin of your own. Steve pulls you in for a hug, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and you have to tell your heart to stop doing somersaults.

“Yeah, I did.” You smile up at him and almost laugh at his dopey expression. You’re not sure why he’s looking like that, but you attribute it to drinking. After all, is Steve Harrington really at a party if he doesn’t down an entire keg in seconds?

“You look really pretty, you know?” His words make you swallow harshly, knowing that his drunk words are kryptonite to your sober, hopeless, lovesick little heart. 

You can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks, and you’re sure that if he continues staring at you with that look you can’t quite name in his eyes, you’ll be a walking heat advisory. You gently jab at his shoulder, dismissing him with a wave of your hands and a roll of your eyes. “Sure, sure. Let the alcohol talk.”

“It’s not the-” Steve doesn’t finish his sentence when Nancy joins your little party, nuzzling up to him. The sight makes your heart clench in a not-so-pleasant way, and you smile briefly to show good camaraderie, but deep down, you hate yourself for feeling this way.

Nancy greets Eddie, and you silently curse yourself for forgetting he was there. Knowing that he witnessed the entire interaction, you chuckle, sure he’ll find some way to tease you about it later.

You spend the next few minutes talking with Steve and Nancy, who soon enough become engrossed with each other. The whispers and drunken laughter they share make your eye twitch, which catches Eddie’s attention.

“You know, it’s getting pretty late, so I think we’re going to head out,” Eddie says, forcing a convincing yawn. 

“Nooo,” Steve groans, unwrapping his arm from Nancy to place his hand on your shoulder. “You can’t go just yet. Stay. Please.” His bottom lip juts out just a bit as he pouts, begging you to stay with those big brown eyes, and a tiny part of you screams just how kissable he looks.

Instead of succumbing to that deep-down desire, you smile, tilting your head to look at him. “Sorry, Harrington. It appears you’ve exceeded your time limit.” You pat his hand, squeezing it gently before removing it. You swear you can feel his fingers curl around your palm, but he steps back in defeat before you can discern.

“It was fun talking with you guys, though. Who knows, maybe we’ll come to another par-”

You begin stepping away from him when a screech makes you and everyone else stop in their place. You turn to the source to find Tommy and Carol - of course, it’s them - standing atop a table with a microphone. 

You have half a mind to leave, but for some reason, you feel compelled to stay.

“Hi, everyone! Hope you’re all having a fantastic time!” Carol starts, her words slurred and voice oh so annoying. Cheers erupt from the crowd, but she’s quick to quieten them with a hand in the air. “I have a little special announcement for one of our esteemed guests…” 

She pauses dramatically, a mischievous look on her face. You’re not the only one who notices. Eddie leans down to whisper, “I think we should go.” You agree, feeling uneasy, but just when you turn to go, you hear your name.

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are on you, Steve and Nancy included. You stare at Carol warily, wondering where she’s going with this.

“You see, little miss weirdo over there has a big fat crush on her best friend. But Steve is too busy fucking little miss perfect to give her the time of day.” Muttering and snickers and gasps of surprise sound around you as your heartbeat quickens. Tommy pulls your diary from his jacket, flipping it open to an earmarked page.

“‘Dear diary… I can’t believe I have a crush on Steve Harrington! I hate him and his perfect hair and charming smile and-’” Tommy pauses his reading to smirk. “Here’s the best part.” He pitches his voice annoyingly high, “‘I think I might just be in love with him, but of course, he has to be dating my sister, of all people.’”

If the humiliation doesn’t break you, seeing Steve and Nancy’s expressions as you slowly turn to them does. Nancy looks betrayed, and there’s a hint of anger in her eyes. You don’t blame her; you felt the same when you discovered she was dating Steve. Speaking of which, he looks confused; his brows pinch together, and his mouth is agape. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What can you say? You don’t know. But you know that standing there while everyone looks at you isn’t helping you. Before you can register it, you’re running out of the house, pushing past everything in your way.

You don’t hear or see Steve marching right up to the table. “You’re real pricks, you know that?” He asks, snatching your diary from Tommy’s hands, sending him stumbling and falling off the table on his butt. Laughter erupts when Tommy falls. “Fucking assholes,” Steve sneers as he heads outside to look for you.

Eddie unlocks the van, and you’re about to hop in, ready to ditch this shit show, when someone grabs your wrist. You turn around to find Steve. He offers your diary to you. The thought of snatching it away crosses your mind before you remind yourself that although Steve begged to come along to the party, this whole shitshow wasn’t his fault.

So, instead, you gingerly take it from him, tucking it tight under your arm as if someone might come to steal it again. Then it’s tense - despite the cool night air sprinkling goosebumps along your exposed skin, the air feels unbearably thick, and you find yourself harshly swallowing the lump in your throat. 

Steve is the one to break the silence. 

“You never told me.” Those four words made you scoff bitterly, not at him but at the entire situation. 

“You never asked,” is your retort. 

Steve casts his gaze down to the ground, nodding solemnly. It’s another few seconds before he opens his mouth again. “I always thought it was Munson.” His confession shocks you. Is that why he’d always been so cross with Eddie?

“Well, now you know.” It’s unbearable standing here, trying to talk through this shitty situation. With a breath, you say, “I should go, Steve. No point in me hanging around.”

Steve falters, reaching an arm out to stop you from moving. “You can’t just walk away. We should talk-”

“Talk about what, Steve?” You pull your arm away from his grasp, fully turning to face him. “About how awful of a person I am. About how I fell in love with my best friend, and he chose my sister?” As you speak, frustrated tears fill your eyes, and Steve feels his heart break a little more. “Did you ever…” You breathe deeply, steeling yourself. “Did you… have you ever felt anything for me…?”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, and had this been a different situation, you might have poked fun at him for looking like such a goofball. He finds it hard to meet your eyes, and though he never says a word, you already have your answer.

You scrunch your nose, blinking away the tears. You’ve already humiliated yourself enough tonight, and you won’t be adding crying to the list.

It’s then that you can hear music booming from inside the house - the rest of the partygoers continuing without a care, like some girl’s life didn’t just get flipped upside down and all around. You spot Nancy lingering near the entrance. She has this unreadable expression, but she’s not as angry as before. She looks sad, and that makes you feel even worse.

You tear your gaze away before looking at Steve, tears threatening to fall, and with a bittersweet smile, you say, “Tell Nancy I’m sorry for me, please. Goodbye, Steve.”

With those parting words, you quickly hop in Eddie’s van, and he knows to drive away without you even saying anything. You look out the rearview mirror to see Steve standing there, watching you leave.

Later that night, when you’re donning some of Eddie’s clothes, and he’s attempting to cheer you up, you pull out your diary one last time and write:

Dear (not so) secret diary,

Life is shit

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[abibliophobiaa]

talking in your sleep

chapter one - burnin’ for you

- eddie munson x afab!reader; 80s summer camp slasher au.

masterlist

🏕️🛶

warnings: (20k words) overall this fic will be dark in tone, though this chapter is mostly light and fluffy; r has a father for the sake of a future conflict, though they are not named; thriller; possession; alcohol and recreational marijuana use; allusions to sex; oral (f receiving); allusion to oral (m receiving); 18+, minors dni.

additionally— while this is technically an au, the upside down does exist here. the original core st crew has experienced the events of seasons 1-3, but in a different capacity that will become clear through the narrative. also a loose loose loose adaption of s4 with a slasher flair

🏕️🛶

There are rumors that Hawkins is cursed. 

That there’s a gateway to hell in the town’s epicenter—paved by the blood of innocents. 

That there’s a whole world roaming beneath, teeming with monsters who have gaping maws full of endless rows of teeth that walk on twos and fours, screeching bats, and swirling shadow beasts. 

But they’re rumors all the same. 

Hushes in hallways, within the four walls of homes, by conspiracy theorists trying to strike up their next controversial story. 

Stories told around campfires to wide eyed children, fear struck grave and true behind their gazes, or by those wishing to warn others to stay away, to reconsider coming—to turn back while they still have time. 

Those same rumors fueled by the terrible murder of the Creel family, a haunting story of a girl who disappeared and was never found again, the impossibility of the zombie boy who was gone from this world one day and alive the next, the devastating fire that burned down the Starcourt Mall and took the lives of many. 

Tragedies. All of them. Twisted to fit a narrative. Because Hawkins is safe. Inconspicuous. Boring. 

Nothing strange happens there. 

Nothing, that is, until the summer of 1986. 

 ——

 “Hello campers,” you call out through the megaphone. “Welcome to Camp Firefly for the summer season of 1986. Dustin—please stop pulling on Max’s hair. Max, don’t kick Mike in the shins! Oh, Juliet, honey, please don’t eat the gl—”

The megaphone is snatched from your fingers by none other than Steve Harrington. All long limbs and debonair stature. Dark hair gleams in the sunlight, broad shoulders shifting as he raises the megaphone to his lips and shouts, “Okay, listen up shitheads. Unpacking starts now. In one hour, we’ll be meeting in the mess hall for our welcome dinner. Be there or be square.”

You open your mouth to argue, to yell at him for breaking up your speech, but a pair of arms winds around your waist. Eddie’s form thumps into yours, his tall and gangly body having just rushed out of his parked van to hastily barrel into you. Four weeks; you’d gone four weeks without seeing him, and it had felt like years. Sighing, you lean into his embrace. Steve shakes his head beside the both of you, continuing on with the welcoming speech for the rest of the campers who are paying attention. 

You, on the other hand, find yourself preoccupied with the boy insistent upon sliding his palms into the back pockets of your shorts, pulling you flush against him until your noses brush.

A giggle rises from your throat, your face warming. “Eddie,” you gasp out when a hand squeezes on your flesh. There’s a thwack of your hand against his shoulders, arms loosely around his neck, though there’s no true anger to be found there. Only the prickling nervous anticipation over being seen. You drop down into a hushed whisper, “Not in front of the kids!”

“I’ll have you know, my campers know cooties are real. I’d like to think I’m a great teacher.” His forehead presses insistently into yours, breath warm against your bottom lip. He’s so close now you can smell the mint on his tongue, masking the hint of the cigarette he likely smoked minutes ago beneath. “But I myself happen to be up to date on my cootie shots…”

Another thwack to his abdomen this time, but all it does is have him closing the space between you, ignoring the overly exaggerated gagging sounds of his friend Steve to your left. It’s a long, drawn out press of your lips. Weeks of yearning and wishes, pent up desire, pouring out into the spaces between you. A hum spills from you, unwarranted and yet welcomed by Eddie’s firmer embrace. 

Those arms around you that drag you close pull you in tighter, insistent on keeping you near. A part of you wants to remain there. Forever, if he would allow it. But you have too much to do. Between welcoming the returning campers, assisting new campers, and making sure all the counselors are in position for their job duties, your schedule is packed. 

Full to the brim in your father’s absence. 

“As much as I would absolutely love to spend the afternoon doing this, I need to get to work,” you say, sighing breathlessly as your boyfriend separates from you. His nose nudges your cheek, palms brushing along the curve of your jaw. You kiss him once more, grinning. Lowering your voice so no one else can hear, you add, “Meet me in my cabin in fifteen minutes.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a final, lingering kiss to your lips, bowing at the waist. He backs away slowly, finger dragging a slow ‘x’ across his heart. You practically glow with it, heart thundering away behind your ribcage.  

Steve wrinkles his nose beside you and you tip your head to the sky, ignoring him. Eddie’s form is already retreating to your cabin, broad back swathed in a dark tee shifting as he moves throughout the gaggle of children rushing around him like the parting of the sea. 

All around you children giggle. Cars and buses alike weave in and out of the makeshift gravel parking lot. Parents press kisses to their babies' brows and wish their little ones a wonderful month of excitement to come. Wistful gazes meet yours in passing. Friends reunite after months without, hands curling around hands, skipping back to their prospective bunk beds. Girls with friendship bracelets bleached by the sun and time, and boys with their fake swords made of sticks they retrieved in the woods rush along, sights set on their unknown destinations. Your nostrils are filled with the smell of sunblock and the food cooking in the mess hall, the lingering remnants of your boyfriend’s cheap cologne, and the perfume you’d dabbed onto your pulse points earlier that morning for the curly headed metalhead. 

You smile to yourself, letting the summer sun warm your cheeks, and think, It’s going to be a good summer.

 ——

 A fan blows in the distance, but it does little to lower the heat in the room. Does little to chill your sweat slick skin, shirt long pushed high on your chest, moisture pooling in the hollow of your throat, along the dip between your breasts. Your thighs lay splayed out around a narrow pair of hips resting against where you crave him most, fingers dragging lines along the slope of his stomach, the trail of hair leading to the part of him seeking your attention, straining through the sun-faded pair of green shorts adorning his legs, lightened from years of use. 

“Missed you,” Eddie drawls, lips gliding along the soft of your stomach.

Shivers ripple in their wake, toes curling within the tube socks around your calves, lined with that glaring green stripe that mirrors the green accents on your white Camp Firefly shirt. You rip your hand from his abdomen and curl your fingers around his bicep, gasping into open air as he tugs the cup of your bra down and his tongue lathes over a sensitive nipple.

Somewhere against your thigh you can feel him hot and hard and ready—eager and insistent. The wooden beams of the cabin above you blur around the edges as fingers dip down into the waistband of your shorts, teasing at the slickness he finds there. 

“E-Ed,” you rasp, clutching tighter, fingernails digging crescents into his skin at the softest prodding of his middle finger against your center. “Mmm—more.”

That finger dips into the well of slick pooling. Swirls around and around until you’re writhing beneath him, chest rising and falling against his as he leans over to hover above your form, watching the utter bliss sliding over your features. 

“Sweetheart,” he says lowly, voice seemingly dropping an octave. His mouth roams over the curve of your hip bone, nipping at delicate flesh until your stomach clenches and you yelp. “Pretty sure you’re not in uniform.”

He’s right. You’re meant to be wearing the standard white shirt with green lettering or ‘Camp Firefly’ across the front and that silly pair of matching green shorts. But you hadn’t had a chance to change your shorts before the kids started pouring in—before Eddie managed to get you alone. 

He tuts, and with his other hand, Eddie slowly works the button on your jean shorts free, the zipper following suit. The denim brushes along your thighs as he lowers them down your legs, tossing them into the far corner of the room, toying with lace, wet with your want. 

“New?” he murmurs, dipping his middle finger inside you, dragging it in a slow circle that has you clutching at the bed sheets beneath you. At your nod, he grins. “Is this all for me, sweetheart? Should go away on tour more often.”

Eddie’s careful as always as he slides down further toward the foot of the bed, shorts and shirt rumpling. A shudder of breath passes from you as he hikes both your thighs over his shoulders, the balls of your feet resting against the span of his back, as those fingers of his palm at the dough of your thigh. Warm breath skitters across your bare skin, replaced by his mouth a moment later. Warm presses that start at your ankle, dragging up up and up until you’re whimpering, pleading, begging for him without coherent words. Words fail you when he’s like this, intent and amorous, wanting nothing more than to draw out your pleasure, bring you to a peak, have you gasping beneath him in your release, holding you close as you float back to earth with him. 

“Please don’t. Missed you too much,” you nearly beg, eyes rolling back into your skull as he tugs the flimsy fabric aside, nearly ripping it in his haste, and parts you with his tongue. Every other word, every statement, the thoughts you might have shared—they all flutter away into the wind, replaced only by this mouth, these fingers, and this man. “Missed you too much. Oh gosh, just like that, please don’t stop Eddie—”

His answer is the curling of his fingers within you. The blinding white light that dances behind your closed eyes as he licks and teases at your center, coaxing you further along that invisible peak. It burns within your gut, a spark fanned into flame, holding bright into a steady inferno, ready to burst behind your eyelids when a knock sounds at the door, shaking you both from your fantastical reverie. 

Head rolling back into your pillow with a groan, you cry out forcibly, “Who is it?”

“Chrissy…your roommate.” It’s a hesitant voice that greets you. Soft and quiet, but impossibly sweet. The groan that threatens to spill from your lips is swallowed immediately. 

“I totally forgot…” you whisper to Eddie, referring to the girl standing at your doorstep. 

In all your years past, you shared with your father. Now, as the manager for the summer, and Chrissy being the newest addition to camp, you had specifically set her up in your cabin so she could gain a grip on things swiftly in her first summer here at Camp Firefly. Head slumping back against your pillow, you dress in haste, brushing your fingers against your hair and under your eyes to make sure you look presentable, and then walk over to the front door. 

Eddie clears his throat. “Should I head out?” 

You huff a sad sigh, not wanting to see him go. Not after you just got him back. “Rain check?” At his nod, you rush back across the room and press a lingering kiss against his lips. “I’m so happy you’re here. With me.” 

“Me too,” he practically purrs, curling a finger in your belt loop, dropping a final kiss at the center of your forehead. Skin warms under his touch. “Now go—Chrissy’s waiting.” 

There’s a swift crack of his palm against your ass that has you throbbing down to your core, a mock gasp rounding your lips as you turn your head over your shoulder to playfully admonish him. But without the capabilities of doing anything about it, you instead open the door to reveal your beautiful new roommate. 

To say you don’t know Chrissy Cunningham is a lie. Point blank. Everyone at Hawkins High knows her. Recently graduated, incredibly smart, overachiever, and class president. Girlfriend to Jason Carver, and captain of the cheerleading squad. Basically, high school royalty. She’s perfection in a dainty blonde package, with her whimsical laughter and bright eyes, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you into a hug and excitedly bounces on the balls of her feet. 

It reminds you of your first summer here as a camper. Wide-eyed wonder, with all the hope in the world to go along with it, taking in all the sights, the people, the things. Years later, Camp Firefly still holds that incomparable charm. But it’s different now; especially as a counselor, in charge of making sure all these children have fun, are fed, enriched, and remain alive for the four weeks they’re in your care. 

Though you don’t press them about it, Chrissy and Eddie are technically late. Most of the staff arrives days prior to the campers arriving to run through protocols, to ensure everyone has their proper safety training, the kayaks are checked over for damage, the craft rooms are stocked, meals are decided for the summer session, lifeguard duty is handled, and the like. But this is Eddie’s third summer, and he knows these woods by heart. Chrissy, on the other hand, is a late addition requested by her boyfriend, Jason. You’d been reluctant at first, but another sports coordinator wouldn’t be the worst thing, so you’d added her to the staff list. 

Just as she steps back, you hear the gentle glide of your cabin window shifting upward. A white Reebok covered sneaker presses up to the ledge, drawing Chrissy’s curious gaze from where she stands at your back. Chest burning, you wiggle your fingers at him, his shoulders shrugging. 

“Hey, Chrissy,” Eddie says, grinning widely. She mutters a breathless ‘hi’ back. “I don’t usually make it a habit of sneaking through this window. In case you were wondering…”

He does. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in two seconds,” he adds, boosting himself up and over the windowsill and onto the grass below. At your slowly arching brow, he laughs, “I could have…used the door.”

“Could have used the door, yeah,” you agree, that increasingly familiar sticky fondness toward him bubbling up within you. “See you in the mess hall.”

He backs up as you say it, keeping his eyes on you, thumping against a tree and getting a bunch of leaves caught up in his wonderfully unruly hair. The tops of his cheeks stain red, visible in the slowly setting sun. Smitten—he’s so damn smitten, and he’ll try to hide it from everyone to keep up that metalhead slash dungeon master persona, but he’s absolutely terrible at it and you love it. 

“Bye, Eddie!” Chrissy says gleefully, just as Eddie starts to wave and brush at the leaves poking out haphazardly from dark curls. 

Grinning, you waltz over to the bedroom window, leaning your head out to look at your summer boy turned all year boy. 

“Bye, Eddie,” you drawl a little teasingly, affection dripping from you, sliding the wooden frame shut. 

He pouts and you wave, quick to once more mouth ‘rain check.’ Then, with his form finally retreating to his assigned cabin for the summer, you whirl around to face Chrissy. 

“Okay! Sorry about all of that. I’m the…well, I’m your manager this season. Fred Benson will be your assistant manager, should you need me and not be able to find me at any point. Welcome, we’re so happy to have you here. Now how about we get started on a tour of Camp Firefly?” 

 ——

 Camp Firefly sits on the outskirts of Hawkins. An outdoor oasis nestled deep within the woods, about an hour and a half from the rest of civilization, and home to many campers when the summer season arrives. Stomping grounds of the counselors who roam their wooden cabins, teaching, mentoring and playing with their bright faced youths. 

The sun sits, bright and golden, over the endless sea of emerald green trees. The barest hint of wildflowers and the lake water down the hill hits your nostrils, blown in by the two fans set up around the room to cool the humid summer air. Vaguely, you hear the cicadas bursting into life, the birdsong filtering through the trees kissing heaven, the rush of water in the distance. Beneath it all is the chatter of children, some of the earliest arrivals likely already pestering their counselors about the many activities they’ll be wanting to do, though the first event is always the welcome dinner in the mess hall. 

Gesturing for Chrissy to follow, you usher her out the front door and peer out over the front porch, extending your arms to show her the view from just outside your shared bedroom window. Through the lush foliage just outside your bedroom window, you can see the grassy hill, the sparkling blue water down further below, a long wooden dock that’s also home to a storage cabin full of water sports. Kayaks already bob in the water, their bright colors sparking joy. Vibrant yellows, greens, reds and blues—awaiting their eager pilots. The water gleams a gorgeous azure blue, reflecting a cloudless sky above. 

Your favorite part of every morning is seeing the kids. All their bright smiles, their shoes kicking dirt up as they skip, run, walk and mill about. Those first day jitters remind you of being a younger girl, still a camper, freshly out of school for the session with summer break standing before you and a summer of endless opportunity ahead. You recall your favorite counselors, the way they made you feel, how loved and special it was to spend every day playing, learning and growing. 

And now—now it’s your job. Now you’re in charge of protecting, teaching and encouraging the youth. It’s your job to make sure they never go one day without knowing just how valued, appreciated and loved they are. Seeing their smiling faces, their reception to your encouragement, the way they bloom when exposed to love? It makes all the early morning wake ups, makes every tear shed over a scraped knee or a sprained ankle, all the macaroni necklaces and family portraits, the food fights and arguments between campers, the competitions and music events worth it. 

Chrissy seems enraptured with the whole thing as you lead her down the pathway toward the fire pit in the center of camp. Her head turns everywhere you go, waving to little ones as they rush on by, introducing herself to parents, to the campers she’ll be working with for the next month. You watch her confidence spark to life, flourish, and expand with every minute that goes by beside you. Soon enough there’s that eager bounce to her step that catches your eye, the flick of her ponytail as she greets a new camper with a handshake and a cheery ‘hello,’ the way she starts repeating names of kids after they pass, if only so she can start to remember them all.

Trying. 

She’s trying, and it’s more than you could ask of her as a new addition to the roster and someone who hasn’t done this before. 

“Okay, so let’s start here,” you say, pointing to the fire pit in the center of the camp. On your far right is the ‘Welcome to Camp Firefly’ sign. Stopping in your footsteps, you wait until she’s at your side to proceed. “This is the heart of the camp. We host our campfires here. So that would mean anything from s’mores nights to scary story sessions or icebreaker games. We try to hold them for the kids once a week. Sometimes two, weather permitting. If you’re ever lost, look for the welcome sign.”

“Okay. If I’m ever lost, welcome sign.” She repeats the words slowly, head dipping. Her head whips right and left, peering out against her surroundings. “Got it. We have a lot of kids that come here, don’t we?” 

“We definitely get a good crowd. Mostly Hawkins and Christian Academy students,” you tell her, pulling out your whistle and blowing when you catch Lucas racing after Mike. “Boys! Slow the heck down. Wheeler, your shoelace is also untied! Are you trying to go to Nurse Mooney on day one?”

“Sorry!” They both cry out at the same time, heads bent low as they slow down long enough until they think they’re out of view, and then continue running as quickly as they came, both yours and Chrissy’s heads shaking in laughter. 

“So we passed our cabin, the lake. Over there is the mess hall. We’ll be meeting there at around six for the welcome dinner for the campers and counselors. It’s a good opportunity to meet some of the kids, catch up with friends, and all of that,” you tell her, pointing to the larger building. Pausing, you shift just a bit, where another wooden building looms, doors open to display a stray soccer ball and basketball here and there within. “Over there would be our gymnasium. Obviously we try to do most things outside, but on days it rains that’s our alternative. You’ll find a lot in storage for activities. Steve will show you around there. We also host dances there for the kids. We make a little pizza and ice cream party out of it. Snacks galore, all of that good stuff.” 

You lead her through the back of both buildings, coming up on a pathway that leads to a trail. “Down this trail right here are the girls and boys cabins. Kids are obviously kept separate, but you’ll find that the prank wars start almost immediately. I can always tell by all the shrieking,” you tell her, laughing to yourself at the fondness of the memories that flit through your mind, a kaleidoscope of color and splashes of joy. “Last year the kids got Eddie good. Shouted that Max had skinned her knee—he loves that kid, so he ran to see if she was okay—and he got a bucket of water tossed on him.”

“So we allow the prank wars?” 

“Yeah.” Your feet shift in the dirt. “They’re kids, they’re going to be rowdy, and we encourage it. Some of these kids have a rough go of it during the school year, and this is a sort of escape for them. It’s what I love most about Camp Firefly. Just watching them play, learn…explore. It’s really rewarding. I know it’s only four weeks, but you’ll miss these guys once they’re back on the buses and headed home with their families.”

“Makes you really appreciate the place. I, ah, know sometimes how hard people might have it at home and school, so this place probably means the world to them.” Chrissy stares up at the pathway. At the wooden cabins with their bright, colorful hammocks dancing in the wind on their porches. You wonder briefly what she’s thinking, but she only smiles softly to herself, saying, “Thanks again. For letting me work here.” 

 ——

 “Well look what the cat dragged in!” Dustin calls from beside Eddie, just as you and Chrissy finally wander into the mess hall. 

Eddie barely even has a chance to raise his hand in greeting when the curly haired brunette comes rushing forward into your awaiting arms. Another pair greets you next, long and gangly, with dark hair that definitely looks different than it did last summer. 

Will. 

“I was so excited when I saw you and El on the sign up list,” you tell him, rustling the hairs on his head. His head tips up, leaning into the weight of your hand atop. “So happy you’re all back from California. Did you get a new haircut? Maybe grow a few inches as well?” 

Will merely blushes, stepping back, shoulders brushing with Dustin’s. “Eddie said you’re manager this year,” Dustin starts, but Mike tosses a bread roll at his head and the boy is whirling on the heel and flipping his friend off. 

“Your crush is showing, dipshit,” Mike teases, voice bored and lofty. 

“Be nice,” El grumbles, waving your way. 

Chrissy shifts awkwardly at your side, taking in the numerous pairs of eyes also sitting at the table. From where you’re standing, looking over Dustin and Will’s heads, you can see Max, Lucas and his little sister Erica. All of which are bright eyed and happy to see you, practically bouncing with energy where they sit between Eddie and Steve. Some of the other counselors are at other tables, chatting with their kids and one another. Jason, Chance and Andy are rough housing in the distance with some of the older boys. And you can make out Jonathan and Argyle with Nancy and Robin at the table just beside the one Eddie and Steve sit at. 

Your heart swells over being reunited with everyone. Even if you’d seen them at school only a few weeks ago now. Tugging Chrissy to your side, you clear your throat, drawing the attention of the kids. “This is Chrissy. I’m sure some of you already knew that, but this is her first summer as a counselor.” 

Eyes all over turn to gauge the newest addition to Camp Firefly. Careful perusals, questioning stares, that all eventually melt into curiosity and hopefulness. Before long the kids are ready to bombard her with endless questions as soon as you two find spots to sit down on the mess hall benches. Asking her what it’s like on her first day at camp, if being a cheerleader is fun, what her favorite movies and colors are, what ice cream she likes, what she’d want to be if she woke up as an animal one day. Silly, simple icebreaker things. Small talk that has her loosening as time goes on, easing into a familiar banter that makes your muscles loosen, Eddie’s hand seeking your knee under the table.

“You’re doing well,” he reassures you, and you cover his palm with your own, because, as usual, he knows exactly what you need at the moment. And maybe you are—doing well, that is. It’s the first day of camp, everyone is happy, and things are running smoothly.

Releasing an exhale, you gesture for Chrissy to follow you toward the buffet line, full to the brim with various easily accessible meals. Chicken nuggets, pizza slices, macaroni and cheese, sandwiches, and the like. One thing you’ve always prided the camp in is the ability to go above and beyond making sure each camper’s needs are met—counselors, too. Together you load your plates, recounting the tour around camp, Chrissy regaling you with the names she’s already starting to learn. 

“The redhead is…Max, right?” she asks, and you nod, thinking of your favorite little redheaded youth. 

“That would be her. She’s a toughie, but she means well.” 

She’s also had a rough go as of late, though you don’t tell Chrissy that. Her step-brother, Billy, had been one of the many lost in the fire at Starcourt Mall. It had been a grave loss—all of those lives gone in an instant. It hadn’t mattered how terrible he’s been when alive, it still crushed her all the same. And with her having started high school this year, you can’t even begin to understand the hardships she’s been going through. As often as you could throughout the school year you’ve checked up on her, offered to spend time with her after class, to sit with her in the cafeteria during lunches, but she’s always pushed you aside. Brushed you off, away, out of sight. And you understand—you really do. Seeing her at camp, trying and open to the next four weeks, however, has your chest burning with hope. 

“Then there’s…Will and El. They’re step-siblings. Dustin, he’s Eddie and Steve’s friend. Erica and Lucas…siblings. And Mike.”

“You’re getting it.” You place your macaroni and cheese on your plate and toss on a bread roll, watching as Chrissy shovels a slice of pizza onto hers. “It’ll take some time. But it’s your first day. Trust me, you're doing great.”

 ——

 The welcome dinner passes as usual. Kids and counselors alike catch up and recall their memories from all the months spent apart. You prattle on with your kids and watch Eddie out of the corner of your eye as he talks with Dustin and Mike about whatever fantastical campaign he’s planning for their first DND session on the campgrounds. 

It splits your heart. Makes it swell three sizes. On your right, Chrissy and Erica are caught up in a duel. Whoever breaks first in a staring contest loses, prompted by none other than Lucas himself. Suggesting since it’s Chrissy’s first day, she’s in need of a little ‘initiation ceremony.’ 

You and Robin make light of Steve’s present dating life. Laughing when he expresses he’s not actually on the market because he’s interested in an older woman, but he won’t exactly tell you who. Although, when a certain Miss Mooney walks in, you can’t help but to notice the way his eyes catch her across the room. How he quite literally goes white as a sheet and gulps loud enough the two of you can hear him. 

And maybe your brow arches high on your forehead, and maybe he grumbles for you to mind your damn business, but Robin and you burst into giggles all the same, grinning bright for the boy with hearts quite literally dancing in his eyes for the newest nurse to work the medical cabin for the summer session. 

“Should I invite her over?” 

“Eddie, tell your girlfriend to stop—”

“My girlfriend does whatever she wants,” Eddie chuckles, leaning onto his elbows. “What are you doing now?” 

“Steve is hopelessly in love with Nurse Mooney,” you tease, wiggling your shoulders, grinning widely. 

“Who knows?” Robin bumps her shoulder against his. Steve lets out a sound that resembles a whimper and you can’t help but let out a little snort. Eddie elbows him roughly in the ribs, telling him to ‘look alive’ when Nurse Mooney walks by and settles down at a nearby table. “Maybe this will be the beginning of something beautiful?”

“Should I start singing?” you ask. 

“Summer Nights?” Robin winks, earning a loud groan. 

“On three. One, two—”

“You’re all the worst, okay?!” Steve grumbles, resting his head on the table. “I’m disowning all of you as my friends. I’m not even joking.” 

Summer is officially here. 

 ——

 The first few days of summer pass in the familiar Hawkins heat. Every morning you rise to the sound of your alarm clock and announce over the speakers it’s time for the kids to wake up. Immediately, you’re dressing and preparing yourself for the day. Bright white shirt, green lettering, green shorts. 

Chrissy rolls out of bed yawning and quiet, tiredness clinging to her form, slowly adjusting to the rigid schedule you try to maintain at Camp Firefly. Seven thirty rise, eight in the morning breakfast in the mess hall, and then groups are split into their respective activities for the day.

You merely observe on those initial days, taking in the energetic buzz that seems to linger over the air as counselor and camper alike get back into the groove of sleep away summer camp. Heat slicks your skin as you traipse through the forest floor, waving as you go. 

Steve and Chrissy teach archery one day, bows drawn back, kids lined up across a strip of targets set up far away in the distance. 

On another, you manage to pass the arts and crafts cabin, watching as Robin and Nancy cheer on campers for drawing their bright rainbows, caricatures of their families, replicas of their homes. 

One evening you stumble upon Jonathan and Argyle after a particularly eventful hike, wherein some of the kids came back with various herbs and mushrooms you weren’t exactly sure were safe and up to code. 

Another, you manage to find Eddie bent over, cheering on a little one as they strum carefully on an acoustic guitar, eliciting the proper chords he’d been trying to teach. 

At the lake, you wave and grin as campers paddle across the water in their brightly colored kayaks, cheering on their friends for making it across the way, high-fiving Jason and Andy when they happen to do something especially noteworthy. 

Your phone calls to your father are breezy. The children’s echoing laughter is a backdrop to your conversation. And he only praises you for the job well done, warming you from the inside out. 

I can do this, you think, hanging up the phone and glancing out the window to see a bunch of children running by with colorful pool floats, headed in the direction of the lake. I can actually do this.

Before long it’s the first Saturday of the summer in the mess hall. Which means the traditional food fight. The rules are simple enough. Every year, a kid is chosen from a hat, and they’re the instigator. The person who throws the first spoonful, handful, whatever they choose. But no one knows who that person is. Attack is imminent, and everyone around is a sitting duck, praying they make it out without a bowl full of mashed potato on their head (like last summer, when Erica had very excitedly tossed it right onto Steve Harrington’s perfectly coiffed hair). 

The room is quiet now. Camper and counselor alike seated at wooden tables, glancing about, trying to see who their betrayer will be. Friendship doesn’t matter on ‘Food Fight Day.’ It’s a tradition. Traditions, apparently, trump friendship. One could hear a pin drop, could cut the tension with a knife, trying to see if anyone drops their facade and gives a hint of what is to come. 

And for who. 

Across from you, there’s movement. A spoon rises from beneath the table, poised at the ready within Max’s hands. Your breath hitches as her eyes fall onto yours, spoon scooping up a helping of gravy. Stomach turning, you watch as kids snicker about the table. As Eddie nudges Steve with an elbow, pointing your way. 

“Max, please,” you start, holding up your hands in surrender, “you don’t have to do this.”

“Oh—” She releases her spoon and gravy splatters across your face. You blink once, trying to hold back your disgust and laughter. “But I do.”

After that, it’s a cacophony of joyous giggling in the hall as campters gather around the tables, hands inching closer to the endless rows of food across the tables, preparing themselves for war. Condiments, ranch, ketchups and mustards. Spaghetti noodles and pizza slices. Hamburgers and hotdog buns at the ready, drenched in whatever mystery sauce the children had soaked them in. 

There’s a moment, however brief, where the gravy drips down onto your cheek, glides down your skin, and dances along your upper lip. A moment where there’s a respite in the building of anticipation. Kids all glance around at one another, a silent conversation left to linger in the air. And then, with her spoon filled with macaroni and cheese at the ready, Erica Sinclair stands up on top of the table. 

And screams, “FOOD FIGHT!”

Battle cries echo around the mess hall, and the food fight commences. The air crackles and roars with excitement as fingers smash and push into their respective bowls, projectiles soaring through the air like torpedos and landing on their assigned targets. Casualties are in the midst, children in the way, those unsuspecting, ending up with splashes of red tomato sauce on their faces, crimson splatters like little flowers across their shirts. Lettuce flutters in the air, like confetti exploding into the atmosphere, falling down onto heads and shoulders and the floor. 

You’re running around the table with a handful of macaroni and cheese as Robin tosses a slice of cheese at the back of your head. A frisbee of yellow that lingers against your hair for a moment before falling to the ground. Dustin screams on your right, yelling he’s been hit as a spoonful of mayo hits him right in the eye, body falling to the ground into a dramatic heap. Max screams as Lucas pulls out a slingshot, shouting that he’s using an illegal weapon as he loads brussel sprouts onto the contraption and pulverizes Mike with the projectile.  

Dropping down onto your knees, you army crawl underneath the tables, avoiding oncoming ammunition and the shrieks of children as you make your way over to your target. Every year, without fail, it’s Steve “the Hair” Harrington. Doesn’t matter he wasn’t the chosen first target this year. It’s just as much of a tradition as the food fight in and of itself. And, out of the corner of your eye, you catch your comrade in food arms. Eddie crawls as well, hand covered in a ketchup, using his elbows to leverage himself across the floor. Nearly even gets hit with a potato bun from friendly fire (Argyle, who apologizes profusely when he realizes what he’s done). 

You meet with him in the center, ducking out of the way of a stray cube of cheese, shoulders bumping. “If I don’t make it,” you begin, but Eddie cuts you off. 

“You will make it, you will.” He’s shaking with laughter, covered from head to toe in a mess of various ingredients, but still as handsome as the first day you saw him at summer camp two seasons ago now. “Our target is about seven feet away. You take him from the left, and I’ll hit him from above. Do you hear me?” 

“I do.” You lean over and peck his cheek. “Also, I missed you.” 

“Eyes on the target,” he says, trying to maintain your foolish facade. His features crack, corners of his mouth twitching with his boisterous laughter. “But…I missed you too.” 

“Alright.” You nod, training your gaze ahead where Steve is currently defending himself from an onslaught of pickles. “I’m going in for the kill.” 

It happens in what feels like slow motion. It’s a perfect plan. A great one, really. One you and your friends have been plotting since before the summer season started. Get close enough, hit the target, and call it a game. But as you slide out from beneath your table and rush forward to an unsuspecting Steve Harrington, Chrissy Cunningham barrels through with a squeeze bottle of ketchup. You’re hit. Square in the chest. In your shock and distraction, Eddie fails to notice his comrade is down. Slips out from beneath his hiding space with his handful of ketchup, just as El appears holding aloft two mustard bottles.

You’ve both been caught. 

Steve saunters forward, throwing his arms up to deflect incoming projectiles, glancing down at the two of you. Eddie throws his hands up in the air in surrender, swallowing at the red streaks across your chest. Obliterated—you’ve been obliterated by the presently grinning Chrissy, her hair full of stray macaroni salad pieces, chest streaked with other unmentionable condiments and food items, a little piece of lettuce stuck in her shoelaces. 

“Well, well, well. You two really thought you were getting away with a repeat of last year. Surprising, coming from two of my best friends. But a little birdie told me what was to come, so I had time to collect some reinforcements.” He gestures to Chrissy and El, still standing before you determinedly. “Any last words?” 

You’ve prepared for this moment. Prepared for the chance you might be intercepted before you could take down the intended target. 

Eddie glances at you. You look back, head dipping. Eddie trains his eyes ahead, tipping his chin upward. “Look up, big boy.” 

Steve pauses, brows furrowing high on his forehead. “Look up?” He does, and out rushes none other than Robin and Nancy themselves, with a bucket of cold tomato sauce in hand. In his distraction, he doesn't see them coming. In his distraction, he fails to prepare himself for the two of them appearing from behind, pouring the contents over his head, drenching him from the fullness of his hair all the way down to his toes. 

Kids are shrieking in their delight all around you, but as Steve wipes eyes free of tomato sauce, you clasp your hand in Eddie’s. 

Because you know in that instant, you’ve won the war. 

 ——

 The key jangles in your pocket as the two of you stumble into the private showers. He’s everywhere. Fingers digging into your hips, lips against yours, pulling you close. Tugging you forward, craving nearness. Wanting to be close, and then even closer still. Always closer. 

As the children continue their food fight across the camp grounds, you slip into the shower facilities you know are typically vacant during the evening hours. Undisturbed, you close the door behind you, prying yourself away from Eddie’s wandering hands long enough to jimmy the sliding lock into place, grinning when the sound of metal signals peace and quiet once and for all. 

“You’re disgusting,” you chuckle, and he knows you don’t mean it. Not really. 

In a crowded room of thousands, you’d choose him every time. Even like this, with ketchup and mustard across his shirt. Mayo across his proud cheekbones. Macaroni in those dark curls you could spend the rest of your days toying with. He’s still everything you could ever hope for—and he looks at you like he thinks the same. Like even with your shirt covered in ketchup, streaks of red across your chest, the likely remnants of the cheese frisbee at the back of your head, and the rice clinging to that coagulated patch of mayo on the leg of your shorts, he would still think you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. 

Eyes that roam over your form even now. Dark in the growing moonlight. In here, where there’s nothing but quiet. The chaos of the campers long gone, leaving you alone in the sanctuary of togetherness. Tentative feet carry you closer, hands trailing the sides of Eddie’s right arm, running over the short sleeve that covers the wyvern tattoo you know rests high along his tricep, trailing lower still down to his wrist, his hand. With trembling fingers, you grip his palm in hand and raise it up, over your hips, over your sides, curling over your breast. Gasp into his opened mouth just millimeters from yours as his fingers knead the sensitive flesh, his husky voice whispering your name into the empty vestibule. 

In here, you are merely two people, still exploring the newness of your relationship. There are no responsibilities, no children calling your name, no one there to remind you of your job duties. Here you can lean in and press your mouth to his, swallow the groan that falls from his lips as your hips press flush against his, the growl that echoes as you glide your hand over the patch of hair above his waistband, trailing lower, and then lower still where you find him half-hard in his shorts already and curl your fingers around the fullness of him. 

“You’re kind of gross yourself,” he teases against your mouth, smirking into the skin of your lips as his palm slides down around your back and cups your rear, kneading the flesh until you yelp into him. “We smell like the mess hall.” 

The words are a bucket of ice water thrown onto you. A realization that, yes, you do smell absolutely putrid. A conglomerate of more things strewn about your bodies than you can count on one hand has now had time to sit and attract the summer humidity. Lingers in the air, even as your mouth moves slowly over his, drawing those lovely sounds from him you’ll never tire of. With a reluctant sigh, you part from his embrace, taking a step back to watch as he reaches down and tugs his shirt free from his form. There’s a new tattoo across his ribs. A coiling snake that curves up his side, black and white linework immediately drawing the eye to the forefront. Curiosity beckons you forward, fingers brushing along skin, along the lines, Eddie’s dark gaze following yours. 

“Got this while you were on tour?” you ask. 

“Figured it would be a surprise,” he says, smoothing a palm over the side of your face. “Do you like it?” 

“I do.” And it’s not a lie. Not as you brush along his ribcage, grinning to yourself as he tenses and twitches under your ministrations, teeth pressing into his bottom lip to keep quiet. 

Exhaling, you take a step back and tug your shirt off, rubbing at your bicep as his chocolate brown eyes run along your silhouette. Sensing your hesitance, he whispers, “You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”

“Never hurts when you remind me.” 

“You are.” 

It continues like that. He tugs his shorts off and kicks them into the far corner. You remove yours and place them on a towel rack. His socks become a pile on the floor with yours. His boxers are thrown haphazardly, and your underwear follow the same, becoming a heap alongside your bra. The water itself is luxuriously warm. The spray coasts along your skin, warming you from head to toe. With a hum, you turn around to face away from Eddie, letting the steady stream run along your face, washing you clean. A broad pair of arms circle low around your hips, his chin tucking over your shoulder, mouth at your ear. And you linger like that, with the steady flow of water washing away the remnants of your food fight, his body warm against yours, and the rest of the world fading into the background. For a moment, time slows. There’s nothing but you and Eddie, your private oasis, and the love shared between the two of you, full to the brim, threatening to burst at the seams. 

The two of you take turns cleaning one another. He glides a bar of soap gently over your skin, and you do the same for him. Shampoo is built into a lather and rubbed into scalp, mouths meet in the middle to kiss away the sting when suds manage their way in sensitive eyes, and hearts hammer faster as the bar is tossed out of the shower curtain and mouths become fervent, needy, persistent. 

Outside, campers and counselors alike are shrieking and giggling, but inside there’s only this moment. 

This man. 

“What are you—” It’s a question broken off into a huff of breath. A gasp as your knees hit the shower floor, eyes round as they seek his face. “You don’t have t—”

“I want to.” 

And soon, your oasis becomes your own symphony. A melody only the two of you know. Kisses along his thighs. The tender presses of your mouth over the sensitive flesh of his abdomen. Nips laid into skin, utterances of his praises. Pleas of ‘like that’ and ‘good girl’ as you finally take him into your mouth. Grunts and groans. Whimpers and moans. Fingers that cradle the back of your hand, but never push. It builds, grows, bursts behind his eyes. Hits a peak, reaches a crescendo, and those final lingering notes where he lifts you back to your feet, himself boneless and tired, eyes hazy as he leans down and captures his mouth with yours. 

And you return with equal fervor, happy to please, hopeless when it comes to the man. 

But there’s a knock at the door, and you know the food fight will have been finished by now. Accept the fact you can't stay hidden away from society forever. There’s a final brush of your lips over his, and the acceptance of responsibilities, but those memories of stolen moments remain all the same. Even as you dress in tandem. Even as you slip your shorts back on, your socks, your shoes. As he shakes his wet hair out, letting the curls fall as they will, his mouth roving over your shoulders, eliciting a peal of laughter from you. Even as you scrunch your nose when he blows a raspberry into your neck, if only so you'll smile at him. 

You bite your lip and ignore Robin’s curious gaze as the two of you slip out one after the other. As Steve tuts mockingly, appraising both your forms with weary eyes. Even as you slip back into your cabin after one final lingering kiss on the front steps, Eddie’s hands cradling your face, and your arms around his shoulders. And especially as Chrissy greets you in the doorway, her own blonde hair freshly washed, an oversized hoodie falling freely over her form. You dress quickly in the bathroom, tossing your dirty clothes into a hamper and pulling on a comfortable pair of shorts and a ratty old tee shirt that has one too many holes in it. Your feet slide into a pair of slippers and you walk back into the main room. You don’t question where she’s been, nor do you tease for the bruise you spot on her collarbone. And she doesn't prod or pry over the one that must have slipped away, left to linger on your neck. 

Instead you curl onto your sides, away from one another. She kicks her socks off at the foot of her bed, and you throw your slippers into a heap on the floor. You reach over and tug on the pull cord of the lamp. The room descends into darkness. There’s only the sounds of your breathing, the hammer of your heart, and the memories of kisses in dark shower stalls, Eddie’s mouth on yours, yours on his, and hands on bodies. 

You call Chrissy’s name hesitantly into the darkness of the room. Wanting to ask her about the day. Wondering if she enjoyed it, if she was enjoying her time thus far. But you’re only met with the sound of her quiet breathing. Gentle inhalations and exhalations of your reluctant roommate. 

Tomorrow—you’ll ask her tomorrow. 

 ——

 It’s not intentional—the way it all starts that second summer you share with Eddie. 

Eddie’s loud and boisterous. Rowdy. Charismatic, frenetic, energetic. He’s different, unique, atypical. Stands outside of societal norms and has no qualms about it. Lives in the spotlight, if only to keep those nearest to him safe. 

He’s also a worker at your father’s camp. Has been for two years now as a favor to his Uncle Wayne. For years, his uncle and your father work at the same power plant when your father isn’t directing the summer program at Camp Firefly. 

Eddie and you aren’t friends. Haven’t been. He’s the kind of person you pass in the hall. Maybe you wave, maybe you give him a smile, a curt nod. But you’re most certainly not friends. And over the summer you’re often on opposite sides of the camp. Eddie usually goes to the music and arts cabin, while you remain on the lake as a lifeguard or helping around wherever else help may be needed. 

It’s that second summer something changes. Eddie’s…well, he’s always been attractive. Dark hair, dark eyes, those tattoos lining his arms. He smiles more your way, interjects in your conversations with your friends, opens up more. You start to hang out. Alone. Away from the prying eyes of your friends, talking about everything and nothing. Learning, growing, enjoying merely sharing space with one another. 

And it’s one day, while you’re both assigned cleaning duty after your father had caught the two of you smoking on camp grounds that it really starts. The two of you sit in the gymnasium, mops and brushes in hand, sweeping and disinfecting the surfaces. It reeks of sweat and dirty tube socks, like teenagers and food thrown away and forgotten in the garbage, and yet nothing prevents the way your heart thumps a little swiftly, how you’re aware of every inch of your body around him, the way he regards you as you work. 

“Thanks,” he says out of the blue, wringing out the mop, draping it in the wheeling cart. 

Your brow arches and he drops down beside you, extending a hand to you. Passing over your brush, he scrubs at a particularly dirty patch you’ve been working at for the better part of ten minutes. 

“For, uh, taking the blame.” 

As your father had marched over to where you and Eddie had sat smoking in the woods earlier, you snatched the joint from Eddie’s fingers and stamped it out quickly. Kept it tucked away, though there had been no avoiding he’d seen it. It was inevitable. His face had grown severe, brows narrowed, wondering when his ‘little girl’ had taken up the habit. And you’d shrugged, pretended it meant nothing, unaffected. As a result, both of you were banished for the afternoon to cleaning duties, making sure the place was scrubbed from top to bottom. 

A punishment that felt a little like fate, if you were honest with yourself. 

“It’s no problem—”

“I just—you didn’t have to do that,” he says, tossing the brush into the bucket on his left. Drops down onto his knees, staining the green of his shorts darker in the sudsy puddle below. “I need this job, believe it or not, and my uncle would have killed me if I fucked things up with your dad.”

“Eddie, it’s fine. I…I wanted to,” you remind him. “I like spending time with you.” 

He glances down at the floor, hair spilling about his shoulders. For a moment, your lips part, afraid you might have said too much—might have made him uncomfortable. But his ringed fingers reach across and twine loosely around yours, testing the weight of them within his fingers, gauging your reaction. Dark, chocolate brown eyes rise to yours, your palm shifting his hand to face upward within your own. Gentle touches glide over the curve of his hand, the lines and creases there, the calluses from guitar strings. 

“This okay?” you ask, finally lacing your fingers with his to linger in the gap between the two of you. 

He nods, shifting closer. Closer and closer until your knees brush. “Yeah—yeah, it’s perfect.” 

He shifts closer again, head dipping a little. You’ve kissed other people before. Small things, never serious. A game of truth or dare around the campfire only after a couple beers, after a date once or twice, but never like this. Never with a boy you’d liked for the better part of the summer. Never someone like Eddie, who made butterflies erupt in your belly, made you feel all those silly emotions in all the movies you’d seen where a guy meets a girl and they fall in love. 

This is different. Feels different. There’s a weight and importance to it. A desire to get it right. So you shift closer, soaking the bottom of your shorts, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. Not when his nose brushes your cheek, not when you can feel his breath on your bottom lip, can smell the stick of gum he’d been chewing on, can nearly taste the cinnamon you’ll find there if you do. 

“This okay?” he asks this time, bringing his right palm up to curl around your cheek, warming your skin. 

It’s brief. It’s so brief after you nod. The softest caress of his mouth along yours, a whisper of skin touching skin, before your father’s gruff voice breaks the silence with a harsh reminder from the upstairs storage room, “Doesn't sound like a lot of work is getting done in here!”

Bodies jolt apart, cheeks burning hot, hearts burning brighter. 

But it marks a newness. A beginning that builds and grows as you explore the start of ‘togetherness’ those last days of summer at Camp Firefly. It’s kissing behind the gym when no one is around and he can sneak you away, it’s Eddie helping you out and into bedroom windows after hours, spending time together tangled under the stars. 

Later, in those last weeks of summer camp, it’s exploring hands in the dark, over clothes and under. It’s quiet whispers of ‘are you sure’ and eyes that bore into your soul, his mouth inches from yours. It’s your words of consent, it’s his reciprocation. It’s giving yourselves to one another on that last day of packing up camp. Standing before one another in your now abandoned cabin you generally share with your father. Eddie’s hands rest on your hips, and yours toy with the curls brushing his shoulders. Your noses dip together, mouths mingling in the center, bodies crushing in close. His hips press into yours and you feel him hot there, unbearably so. 

And you grow eager, fingers curling in the leather of his jacket, pushing it free from his shoulders, nails raking along the skin that lingers beneath his ratty old tee shirt. You tug that free and he helps you out of your shirt. An awkward gaggle of limbs and tear stained, giggle kissed cheeks. It’s a silent perusal of eyes as you slip off layers of clothing. Your bra, his pants, your underwear, and his boxers. They become heaps in the corners of the room as you touch each other, letting fingers rove in places you’d only ventured alone within the privacy of your bedrooms. It’s sharing that newfound intimacy with another person, for the both of you. 

And yeah, Camp Firefly might have been where it all begins, but it only just starts the summer of 1985. 

 ——

 Every summer, staff rotates the weekends some of the counselors get a night off. It’s always one day where everyone can take a night to relax. That day just so happens to be the first Saturday at camp wherein you’re able to stretch your legs in front of you, donning an oversized Camp Firefly hoodie with your name stitched over your heart, sandaled feet warming by the fire. 

The orange glow crackles and dances before your eyes. Sparks jolting onto the wood below, embers dimming as quickly as they come. Warmth heats your cheeks, draws you closer to the comfortable slumber you can’t wait to take advantage of later. For now, you reach over onto your left and slide your fingers over Eddie’s. His head turns your way, dark eyes clashing with yours as those ringed fingers lace with your own, giving you a quick squeeze. 

Robin and Steve sit nearby on a pair of chairs. Heads bent low, voices quiet in the midst of a private conversation. On their left are Argyle, Jonathan and Nancy. Argyle works on rolling a couple joints as the trio chats, his head bobbing often, silky hair catching and gleaming in the moonlight. Jason and Chrissy recount tales about their kids—Jason with the ones on the lake, teaching them to kayak, showing them proper swimming form and the like; whereas Chrissy explains how her kids learned how to play soccer with Steve’s help. 

Somewhere in the distance you can hear Fred practically fretting himself half to death. Questioning how it is all of you can be spending time away, while the rest of the staff lingers behind. And Chance promptly tells him to ‘shut the fuck up,’ just as he takes a sip of his own beer. 

With a sigh, your head leans back against the fabric of your chair, the can of beer in your hand already lukewarm. You’ve barely sipped any—mind still faraway, recalling the day, making note of what worked and what didn’t that week, trying to keep up with inventory, already planning on your phone call with your father. 

Noticing your daze, Eddie’s thumb brushes along the inside of your wrist. Warm and welcoming. Soothing in a way that has your head rolling a bit, fingers wanting nothing more than to push into those dark curls and remain there, the rest of those around you falling away, leaving you alone with your favorite guy. 

“I’ll still never get over it,” Andy drawls, leaning back against his chair. Tina shifts on his lap, a beer bottle hanging loosely in her hand. You arch a brow in curiosity, and maybe a bit of warning. “The Freak and the Princess. Who would have thought?”

You tense beside Eddie, and he tips his head up to Andy. “Seriously man, get fucked.”

“Testy, testy.” At your glower, he continues, "I'm just joking with you and our Princess here.” 

The man in question rises from his chair, nearly sending Tina falling to the floor in his haste. His fist thumps down on the shoddy radio perched on a wooden stump. “Pass the Dutchie” spills out, the joyful tune breaking up the hoots of owls, the frogs bellowing in the lake, and the gentle night song of grasshoppers. His zip up jacket shifts as he moves, dark hair unkempt still from spending most of the day in the hot sun, jumping in and out of the lake. 

“I think we need to liven this party up,” he says, tipping his head back, guzzling down the rest of his beer. Tina giggles airily from her chair, hair twirling around her index finger. Andy shoots a sly grin her way, brows waggling. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Anyway, I heard this really interesting story recently.” 

“Oh?” Chance asks, looping an arm around Fred’s shoulder, dragging him nearer to the fire and shoving him down into a chair. “Come on Benson. It’s not going to kill you to enjoy one night out—”

“Actually it’s imperative that—”

“Benson,” Jason warns. “It’s one of our only days off. Give it a rest.”

“Jason,” Chrissy sighs, nudging his shin with her shoe. “Be nice.”

“Anyone got a light handy?” Argyle calls from the other side of the fire, finally done rolling. “Enjoy, brochachos. Some good shit we got today.”

He’s referring to his and Eddie’s side business, the two having become fast friends since he moved to Hawkins only a few months ago now from California with Jonathan and the rest of the Byers family. Your father definitely doesn’t know about it, and you intend to keep it that way. 

Fred’s already been threatened if he knows what’s good for him, and if he wants a chance at a second summer as assistant manager, he’ll shut his trap and avert his eyes. The slow hesitance of him presently reaching for his beer tab and popping his can open reassures you that the breath you’re holding can release into open air, lungs expelling gratefully. 

The joints are passed around the fire, split with those wanting to participate. 

“Sweetheart?” Eddie asks, quietly so no one hears. You find you prefer it that way—the fondness of the nickname from his lips like a secret meant only for your ears.

Normally you’d say yes, having spent many nights at Lover’s Lake in the early weeks of your relationship smoking by the water, basking in the newness of your romance, talking about life and the twinkling constellations above. But at your hesitation and the soft shake of your head ‘no,’ Eddie lights his own, his thumb grazing the inside of your wrist once more. 

The group descends into a semblance of quiet, broken up by the exhales of smoke into the air, the scent swirling in your nostrils. Andy drops back down into his chair, done with his gallant twirl in a slow circle, garnering the attention of his mostly involuntary crowd. 

“Have any of you heard of…the realm that lives beneath Hawkins?” 

Your group lets out a round of frustrated sighs and groans, all of you having heard the tales told by the investigative programs, your bored neighbors. Hawkins, your gateway to hell town, harbinger of death and blah blah blah bullshit. For years, it’s been idle chatter, told by those looking for controversy. Conspiracies. 

But there are realities to every story. Newspaper articles conveying the events that happened, television programs documenting the tragedies that befall every town. Tragedies. Unfortunate circumstances that led to lives lost. And yet there are those who would dig up those graves for a sordid story. For their own entertainment. 

“Monsters that crawl on twos and fours—”

“With claws and rows and rows of teeth,” Steve finishes, rolling his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “We’ve all heard the stories, Andy.” 

“Yeah, but what about the stories where they literally strip the flesh from a human body?” He whirls his face closer to you and Eddie and you jolt in your chair. “Rows of teeth that can skin a human. Made to be an apex predator.”

“Andy,” Nancy warns with the roll of her eyes. 

“Have you heard the story of Henry Creel, though? The guy who killed his family in 1959?” he asks. The group settles into an eerie silence, bodies shifting around the fire to attention. “Mom and sister, bodies unrecognizable. Mangled. Dad’s locked away. In Pennhurst.”

“Andy…” you cry, breath hitching at the brutality of it. 

There were stories, yes. You’d heard of the Creel family. No one ever ventured to their abandoned home in the woods. No one dared. You weren’t one to believe in those stories. They were stories, after all. Stories people have been telling for decades, meant for entertainment and to elicit terror. 

“It’s that abandoned house in these very woods,” he says, opening another beer. “They say he died too. That he’s some sort of spirit now that haunts the halls of that home. That he feeds off of grief and guilt and trauma, claiming souls for him to open the gate beneath Hawkins. For every person he kills, he gets closer to literally making Hawkins hell on earth. I'm convinced the tragedies we keep hearing about…I think they’re part of some sort of ritual of his. He’s been getting stronger all this time, just waiting for the perfect moment.” 

“Andy, that’s absurd,” Robin splutters, glancing amongst Nancy, Steve and Jonathan. Each wears a look of varying degrees of concern. Steve’s brows knit together, Jonathan shifting wearily to look at Nancy, Nancy staring off into the distance. There’s no time to dawdle on what those expressions mean as Robin opens her mouth again, prattling, “You can’t honestly believe that a dead guy is doing all of this.”

“Just give it a rest, will you, man,” Steve adds, another roll of his eyes that’s so obvious you wonder if everyone just shuts up for a moment you'll hear it. “There’s no…other dimension of monsters and no dead dude sacrificing the souls of Hawkins to open some gates.”

Andy shrugs. “You scared, Harrington.”

“Horrified,” he drawls, and you snort. At that, his lips twitch. “Now can we move on since I’m shaking like a leaf out here in my terror?” 

“Yeah, dude, pretty sure you talking about dead people is killing our high,” Argyle agrees, passing off his joint to Jonathan. 

The song shifts to “Hungry Like the Wolf” and the conversation changes as well. To lighter topics now, things that don’t make nervous jitters crawl up your spine, don’t make you want to sleep with one eye open at night. Argyle is fully transitioning into life here in Hawkins, and plans on staying for the foreseeable future. Steve and Robin are working harder than ever at Family Video, with Steve being promoted to manager since Keith was moved to another location. Nancy and Jonathan plan on signing a lease to an apartment some time later this year, and when everyone turns to you and Eddie all you can do is express that you’re both doing well. Eddie’s just gotten off of a small, local tour, you’re planning on business college in the fall to eventually help your father run the camp permanently. 

It’s not before long that the gentle hum of music, the smell of the crackling fire mixed with the weed, the tang of beer on your tongue, and the quiet conversation lures you into a warm embrace. Eyes fluttering, you cup the bottom of your jaw within your palm, elbow propped up on the fabric of your camping chair. You doze off for minutes, maybe hours, you’re uncertain, before you feel the gentle glide of Eddie’s finger along the line of your temple, the top of your cheek. A low hum spills from your lips, and you wake to find the guys pouring water on the remnants of the fire, while others pack away the snacks and alcohol. The camping chairs are loaded into their respective bags and slung over shoulders, and it’s time to head to bed, the first staff part of the summer a success. 

Forest floor crackling and rustling beneath your feet, you follow beside Chrissy while Steve, Eddie and Jonathan chat with Argyle up ahead. Nancy and Robin have locked arms with one another, bodies swaying likely from alcohol and weed still buzzing in their system and you trail to your left where Chrissy is watching them and glancing your way every so often. Her teeth worry her bottom lip, like she wants to say something, like she doesn’t know exactly what that even may be. 

“Tonight was fun,” Chrissy says, body nearly brushing yours. You reach across your chest to cup your biceps, hugging yourself. There’s a pause. A momentary hesitation that has your skin prickling with awareness. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” you admit, allowing yourself the unfamiliar comfort of her heat against you. 

This seems to be suitable for your cabin mate, light eyes darting to yours in the moonlight, crinkling around the edges in glee. Not a friendship, not just yet, but something. An olive branch. 

“Look—I know we didn’t—”

“Watch out, it’s Henry Creel coming to steal your soul!” 

A pair of hands clutch at your shoulders, jostling you wildly in a pair of unwanted arms. The shriek that spills with you slices the air, heads turning immediately to the source. Heart hammering, you’re hardly aware of your surroundings as Steve and Eddie barrel forward, shoving Andy away from you and threatening him to never put his hands on you again. Andy hits the ground with a loud thud, Eddie’s chest rising and falling rapidly in his exertion as he stares down at him. The man on the forest floor cackles, chest shaking with the throes of his entertainment, palms already visibly torn up from where he swiftly tried to break his fall. Vaguely you recognize Fred’s worried voice, trying to ease up the tension—and failing—thin and wobbly, as though at any moment your father will burst into the clearing and banish you all to your cabins. 

Eddie whirls around to rush by your side, but Chrissy’s already tugging you into the cradle of her arms, reassuring him that she’s got you. “You guys go finish up, I’ll take her back to the cabin,” Chrissy explains, running a hand over the back of your head. Your body shakes, heart still pounding away from the suddenness of his antagonizing. “Andy, do you have to be such an asshole all the time? Grow up!” 

His reply is the wiggle of his fingers and a mocking, drawn out ‘boo’ that has Eddie nearly lunging forward again to shove him back into the ground, before Steve draws him back and reminds him he needs the job, that Andy isn’t worth it, that Eddie will meet up at your cabin later.  

 ——

 The two of you dress in silence. The wood of your shared cabin creaks from ages of wear and tear as you mill about, shifting around one another, gathering your things. You manage a pair of shorts and a long tee shirt, one of the Corroded Coffin ones Eddie had made, and settle down at the foot of your bed with a pillow pressed tight to your chest. 

Chrissy does more or less the same. Brushes her hair at the small wooden vanity in the corner, washes off the little makeup she’s worn that evening, and hurried into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Upon return you’ve found she’s slipped on a pair of silky pajama shorts and a ratty old tee with the Hawkins High logo on it from when you both were still in high school.

It’s funny to think a month ago you walked across that graduation stage. Had collected your diploma, cheered on Eddie for finally receiving his after hard work and dedication to see it come to fruition, and started the beginning of a new season in your life. Endless opportunity awaited the both of you—all of you here at the camp, really. Recent graduates, those trying to figure out their path, trying to determine what they want to do. 

It’s funny to think Chrissy and some of the others on the basketball team had always been strangers to you. Coworkers during the summer, but otherwise people you generally avoided. Ignored. Head down, eyes ahead—it always worked best that way. Your eyes travel down to the neck of your shirt where it falls down a bit around your shoulder, skin still prickling from where Andy had grabbed at you. 

Chrissy catches the movement, brows knitting together on her forehead. “I don’t know why you just sit back and let him act like that toward you. He’s an asshole.”

“He’s an employee,” you remind her, toying with the frayed edge of your shorts. A string dances beneath your fingertip; you wind it around the first indent in your skin, twirling, tugging. “I’m…my dad left me in charge, but I’m not used to this. Any of this. It’s easy for you.”

“What do you mean?” She scoots closer to the edge of her bed. 

“You’re Chrissy Cunningham. People listen to you. At school, they’d part like the Red Sea for you,” you tell her coolly, shrugging. “It’s different for people like me.”

People who walk the halls for years at school, flying under the radar. No one knows you, no one talks to you—not really, at least. You never minded it. Hadn't then, and still do not now. It might have made it easier having someone in your corner, someone to take you under their wing, push you to fly. And sure you had your friends, a small circle, but you preferred the safety in solitude. 

Then there were those like Chrissy, Jason and their friends. Those who shone in the light. Shiny, sparkly things. The kinds of people others were drawn to. Those who people naturally gravitate towards, if only for a chance under the sun. A moment in the spotlight. And you know they’re not perfect. Everyone has their own stories to tell, struggles ahead of them, trials they’ve faced. 

But in high school, in life thus far where you’re either in or you’re out based on what those around you can see and perceive on the superficial exterior alone, you’ve always been out. 

And that’s all you know. 

“Look—it doesn’t matter regardless,” Chrissy says, pinching lip between her teeth, releasing it in a frustrated huff. “Has he always been like that toward you?”

There’s always been an antagonistic relationship between the two of you. Started back in sophomore year when you’d caught him cheating off of your test in math class, and had told your teacher. After that, and a failing grade on his part, he’d been nothing but persistent in reminding you you’d been the reason he’d failed that class and needed to remain in summer school that year. 

The downside also being that you were both still campers at sleep away camp by that point, and would argue over every little competition Camp Firefly hosted. And when he’d applied to be a counselor once old enough, you’d nearly begged your dad to not hire him, but couldn’t bring yourself to explain why. 

Seemed so silly at the time. Still does. Being unable to bring yourself to just plant your feet around him and take no shit from him. 

You grimace. “Yeah.”

“I wish you would say something then. People like that keep doing that because they think it’s okay. They see that you’re not going to say anything and they take advantage of it,” she says, shifting up and off of her bed and onto yours. “I, uh…my mom is kind of like an ‘Andy’ in my life. And for a really long time I just let her…talk to me like that. But no one should berate you, make you question yourself, wonder if you’re good enough.”

Her hand rests lightly against your bare kneecap. Your eyes trail there, and hers meet yours hesitantly, but you cover the weight of her skin with your own palm and feel the corners of your lips upturn. 

“You know, you’re different than I thought you would be,” you murmur thoughtfully, eyes darting up to light ones. Her head tips to her side and you continue, “I thought you might be…scary.” 

Your eyes pinch shut in embarrassment and she bubbles with side shaking laughter. “You thought I was scary? I thought you would be the scary one.” 

“Me?” Your finger presses to your sternum. 

“You were always so involved in school, good grades, on the yearbook committee, a scholarship student for your business school. And now you’re my boss, which is pretty awesome at nineteen years old,” she tells you, shoulder bumping against yours. 

“Just for the summer,” you remind her. “My dad is still the director, just managing from home.”

“Even so. Looks like we both misjudged one another.”

She nods. “Looks like it.”

With a sigh, you shift down onto your back, not minding at all when Chrissy arranges herself comfortably at your side, her arm slung over her waist, eyes trained on the wooden ceiling. The gentle inhalations and exhalations from both of you intermingle in the humid summer air, the gentle hum of your fan blowing a backdrop alongside the chirp of crickets and bellows of bullfrogs straying from the lake. 

“Hey…” Chrissy breaks the silence, and your head turns on the pillow to look at her. “If we’re going to be cabin mates for the next month or so, I think it would be nice if we were, you know, friends.” 

“I’d like that,” you admit, and it comes easily. 

Easy like breathing, what with the way she grins at you like you’ve ignited new hope within her soul. Mouth opening to speak, you’re interrupted by the swift raps of knuckles on a door, and without even asking her to, Chrissy hops up off the bed and flounces over to the door, hair swishing as she goes. 

The door opens and you really shouldn’t be surprised to see Eddie. Eddie’s standing there in a Metallica tank top, the sides cut for a larger hole, revealing the smattering of ink across his form. Heart clenching, you rise to your feet as Chrissy opens the door further and urges him into the open space, arms circling his waist as he draws you flush against his chest. A hand rests on the nape of your neck, the other rubbing a slow circle between your shoulder blades. 

Chrissy whistles a tune unfamiliar as she makes her way back to her bed, kicking her feet up on a pillow. Feeling your cheeks warm, you step back, mindful of your company. Circling your palm in his own, you drag him onto the front step of your cabin, taking in the glow of the moonlight up above. Wings of fireflies bat around you, their glowing bulbs flickering around the lamp hanging on the porch, a moonlit song only they know. 

“I wanted to check up on you,” he says once the screen door is shut behind him, palm coming to rest on your cheek. “He’s an asshole. That whole Henry Creel bullshit.”

“I’m okay,” you promise, leaning up to press your lips to his. “Don’t wanna talk about him.” 

“Think Chrissy will let me stay tonight?” he murmurs, forehead pressing to yours. His nose slides down the bridge of yours, prods at your cheek until your lips twitch into a smile. His teeth flash with his grin at that. “There she is.” 

“You're on duty,” you remind him, though the idea is tempting. 

Summer before being Eddie’s girlfriend was one thing, your first summer as his girlfriend is another. Separation feels daunting. The craving to be near is stronger now than ever before. 

“The little gremlins can survive one night with Steve.”

“Eddie…” He buries his face against your shoulder, swaying you left to right in his arms. “Thanks for coming. But I promise I’m fine. Plus, I think I actually made a new friend tonight.”

“You and Cunningham, hmm?” 

“She’s…she’s actually really nice.” 

“I’m glad.” His head shifts, lips pressing into your neck until you wriggle and writhe in his arms, earning a chuckle out of the man. “I’ll miss you. Maybe you’ll come visit me in my dreams.”

“You’re such a sap, Munson.” Nose wrinkling, you reach up to comb at the curls tickling your cheek. “Who knew?” 

“There are exceptions to every rule.” 

You grin, heart fluttering away in your chest as he takes a step back and makes his way down the stairs leading to your cabin. There are three words that bubble on your lips, three words you’ve never shared with anyone before. And it’s fitting they form for this man, this person. 

But it’s not time. Not yet. So instead you lean your elbows onto the railing and blow him a kiss, snorting as he dramatically smacks it against his chest and falls backward into a heap on the forest floor below. 

“Go, shoo,” you tease, giggling as he rolls over and pushes himself onto all fours, shaking out his hair. 

“You wound me, sweetheart.”

Three words. 

Not now. 

“Goodnight, Ed.”

He grins. Waves. 

Three beautiful words. 

But you have all the time in the world anyway; there’s no rush. 

“Goodnight.” 

 ——

 It’s an accident that causes you to end up in Nurse Mooney’s cabin. She’s one of the newest additions to the camp. A highly educated individual, with years of nursing experience under her belt, and exceptional with the children. It’s one thing you’ve heard over and over again from the kids after every scape, fall, and tumble. There’s also the increasingly curious fact that Steve Harrington himself seems to be enamored with the woman, having been found already on more than one occasion visiting the medical cabin. 

You find yourself there presently. A hike with Jonathan and Argyle turned sour when a tree branch whipped you in the face, slicing at the sensitive flesh of your cheek. The kids had screamed, jolting on the spot when you hissed and pressed a hand to your bleeding skin, fingers pulling back soaked in scarlet red. Will had nearly passed out and Max cursed. Dustin called for Argyle, nearly blowing your eardrum in the process. And Mike and Lucas shoved you along the path back to camp, leaving El behind to help make sure her step-brother would make it back okay. 

Which is how you find yourself now, slipping into the cabin and calling out her name, only to find Steve himself sitting atop an examination table, smiling softly at the woman who presses a bandaid with numerous breakfast foods in a cartoonish style on them to his bloodied knee cap. The two whirl your way, Steve’s cheeks burning hot as you approach, while Nurse Mooney tips her head up to the sky before noticing your bloodied cheek, urging you forward with the wave of her hand. 

“What happened to you?” Steve breathes out, rushing over to tip your chin up with an index finger. “It’s not—”

“No, no. I got in a fight with a tree and it won. No need to worry Eddie,” you tell him, curling your fingers around his wrist and shoving it away gently from your face. “Seriously. Don’t worry him over this. He’s busy with the kids.”

Nurse Mooney shuffles about in the distance, setting up what you assume to be the things she’ll need to patch you up. Your eyes flicker upward to Steve’s, mirth bubbling in your gut. “Why are you here?”

“Mind your business,” he warns, voice dropping into a gravelly grumble. 

“It’s just curious.”

“She’s a good nurse.”

“I’m sure,” you tease, grinning widely. “She’s also really pretty, intelligent, talented and—”

“Shhh. Will you stop it? Next time you and Eddie want me to cover so you can canoodle in the woods I’ll just so happen to be busy.”

You pout. “No fun, Harrington.”

“You two will be having no fun if you keep it up.” He glances over his shoulder, earning a smile from the woman. “I don’t want to mess this one up, okay?”

The seriousness in his tone gives you pause. Swallowing, you nod. Steve’s love life has been a bit of an…interesting tale as of late. He chalks it up to losing his dating “mojo,” but you know Steve. Steve with his heart full of love ready to be given, an immeasurable kindness, and a tenacity that always surprises you. He’s also a wonderful friend, ‘mother’ to the children, and sacrificial for those he loves. Anyone Steve Harrington loves will be a lucky partner. The thought alone sobers you, mouth setting into a firm line. 

“Just…protect your heart, okay?” You wiggle his arm with your hand. His lips curl upward into a dopey grin. “I care about you, you know? Seeing as you’re in a semi-questionably romantic relationship with my boyfriend.” 

“Shut up,” he laughs, but there’s no malice there. “You look a mess.”

“You’re an idiot.”

But he’s grinning. A wide smile that makes your heart clench as he runs a hand down the side of your arm and waves Nurse Mooney goodbye. As soon as the screen door shuts, you’re ordered to jump up onto the examination table, wincing as Nurse Mooney leans forward to assess the damage to your cheek. She winces as you do, mouth turning downward, a soft exhale of breath falling from her softly parted lips. 

“Going to need some steri strips.” At your grimace, she continues, “It’ll need to be cleaned first. Tree really got you good, did it?” 

You laugh, but it only brings a new wave of pain to the wound. “Ouch, please don’t make me laugh.”

She works in silence. Gathering the things she needs on a rolling table, getting to work on cleaning out your wound, apologizing every time a blinding flash of pain hits. Once the wound has been washed, she pulls over a rolling chair and starts to apply the strips, brows drawn into a furrow, attention fully dedicated to your cheek. 

“So your first time working at a summer camp, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

“Are you enjoying it?” 

Her mouth twitches upward. “It’s different than what I’m used to, but I’m enjoying myself, yeah.”

“What were you doing before this?” you wonder out loud, gasping as her gloved finger accidentally brushes the sensitive flesh around your wound. 

“Sorry.” She exhales, grabbing another strip and pressing it into place. “I worked in trauma for two years.”

“So this is a lot slower?”

“Definitely. Scraped knees are a relief compared to some of the things I’ve seen at the hospital,” she admits, leaning back onto the chair and stripping her gloves off. “A walk in the park compared to car accidents, stab wounds and all of that.”

Stomach dropping, you swallow. “Well, we’re happy to have you. Now you can put bandaids on paper cuts for days on end.” You let out an uneasy laugh. 

“You’ll keep those on for ten days. Just to be safe. Shouldn’t leave a scar.”

“Thank you.” You hop off of the table, making your way over to the cabin door. “The kids love you. Everyone does…actually.”

“Glad I can be of help. And…try to keep away from low hanging branches, will you?”

“Will do.” 

 ——

 About a week after the campfire debacle, you find yourself sitting in the craft cabin with Robin and Nancy and some of the girls, fashioning friendship bracelets with colorful threads. Your fingers work meticulously, winding together the colors, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. 

Your table is presently occupied by Max Mayfield, her own eyes trained on her bracelet in front of her, though she’s been silent for some time now. Exhaling, you finish off the line you’re working on and cup the bottom of your jaw in your palm, watching as the younger girl continues with her crafting, paying you no attention. 

Outside, you can hear the gentle breeze rustling the leaves. The cicadas that sing their morning song. The laughter of children faraway on the lake. Within, you can hear Nancy praising her kids for making the “most beautiful macaroni art” and Robin exclaiming she’s never seen a more beautiful “caterpillar egg carton.” But Max remains quiet and stoic, focused on her task at hand, not uttering a word. 

“Do you think Eddie will like this?” you ask, trying to stir up conversation. 

Nimble fingers raise the red, white and black presently half made friendship bracelet in the air. Some of his favorite colors are thrown into one. Max lifts her head, eyes running over it appraisingly. Cold—though not directed at you—empty blue. She continues to work on hers. Green, blue, and white. 

“Do you ever just…feel like…” She stops herself. Screws her face into a grimace and adds a few more lines to her bracelet as you ruminate in silence. 

“Like…?”

“It sounds crazy.”

“You know you can always talk to me. Right, Max?” 

She swallows. “Do you ever just have a feeling that something bad is going to happen? I don’t know how to explain it, but I’ve been having these nightmares and I—” Another pause, her mouth setting into a firm line. 

Hesitantly, you reach across the table and slide your hand over her forearm. “You’re safe here. I can assure you that.”

“I know. I know,” she sighs, “it’s probably nothing.”

“Max, if it’s worrying you that much, do you want me to talk to your mom? Have her come pick you—”

“No. No, please don’t call my mom. Ever since Billy…and then Neil…”

You’ve heard the stories. The whispers around town by those who spewed rumor and vitriol for the game of it—for their own personal enjoyment. Had heard Neil Hargrove left her, abandoned her after his son had died, how they’d been left and moved into the trailer park. It’s how her and Eddie became so close. A brotherly figure to his “Red,” as he always affectionately calls her, even despite her grumbling that he annoys her. It’s all bark no bite, though. 

But you’ve also heard about her mom. About the hardships she’s been facing. About how Max has been struggling in school, with her relationships. It drives you up and out of your chair, shuffling to the other side of the wooden table to settle down on the bench beside her. 

“You know you can always come to me. For anything, right?” 

She nods, eyes downcast. 

“I won’t call your mom,” you promise her, hand resting against her shoulder. “But if you keep having these nightmares, or if they get worse, please tell one of us. Eddie, Steve, myself—anyone, okay?” 

“Okay,” she agrees. She waits a moment and lifts your bracelet between her fingers. “He’ll like it.”

“Think so?”

She wiggles her brows and shoulders, that fleeting grin of hers like sunshine piercing the clouds on a rainy day. “It’s coming from you, he’ll like it.”

You continue on in silence until the sun starts to set over Camp Firefly. You work on your bracelet for Eddie, and hers for Lucas (though she’ll never admit to that). It’s not until you hear the dinner bell from the mess hall that you extract yourselves from the tables, sliding away from the wooden benches with your colorful strands finally finished in hand. 

She walks ahead of you, footsteps eager, slipping into the open wooden doors and making her way over to her friends. Whereas you wander up behind the man you’ve been looking for, in quiet conversation with Dustin, and clap your hands over his eyes. Fingers curl around your wrists like bracelets, a low rumble of laughter shaking the shoulders pressing lightly against your hips. 

“Who is it?” you muse. 

“Gag me,” Mike groans, earning a harsh slap from El. 

“Hmm, I wonder. The options are so vast, you know?” 

Without another word, he’s climbing up and off the wooden bench, dragging you out of the mess hall with a quick nod in Steve’s direction. Once you’re outside, he rushes you around the back of the building and presses your back up against the wall, pinning you in place. 

“Oh, hey.” 

“Hey,” you murmur, mouth millimeters from his. 

He tastes like his usual cinnamon gum and a hint of smoke as he kisses you, lips soft and yielding beneath your own. It’s a gentle give and take, your fingers sliding beneath the fabric of his camp issued shirt, scratching along the hair disappearing beneath his green shorts. Breath fans along your lips, his body coming in closer, the fullness of high thigh between yours. 

“We can’t,” you whine, forehead dropping against his. 

“I know. I know.” 

Another kiss. Those lips drop lower, pressing to the hinge of your jaw. The curve beneath your ear, the side of your neck, until you’re giggling and squirming beneath him, clutching at the sides of his waist, panting for air. His palms glide along your hips, pausing at the strip of string hanging outside of the pocket. Curious, he snatches it free and lifts it in the air between the two of you. 

“You made this for me?” The corners of his mouth twitch gleefully. Dimple popping in his cheek. 

“No.” Your tennis shoe digs into the ground beneath you, forest floor crunching under your toes, head down, cheeks burning. 

“These are my favorite colors, though.” 

“Yeah well…uh…”

“Tie it on me,” he says abruptly, drawing your gaze to his left wrist he’s draped the bracelet over. 

“You really don’t have to wear it. It’s silly. I just spent the day in the craft cabin and I thought—” 

He smacks a kiss to your cheek, silencing you. “Please. Humor me.”

He draws you in closer with a hand circling your waist. You step into the cradle of his arms and grip the two ends of the bracelet, pulling them taut enough around his wrist where he’ll have some room, but it won’t slide off of him. Once satisfied, you fasten it and step back, admiring your work. Eddie wiggles his wrist in the air, admiring the red, white and black stitching. Eyes dart to yours. 

“I love it,” he says, swooping down to kiss you soundly. Until your lips tingle and your belly bursts to life with butterflies. “Come on. Before all the good food is gone.”

 ——

 He doesn’t know why…or really how…he ends up here. His feet crunch against gravel as he opens the door to his car, peering up at the building. 

Before him is a home. 

Set back against a driveway, stain glass windows caked in endless layers of dust. His heart pitter patters in his chest, unaware of what is to come. All he knows is there’s a sense of foreboding. A curiosity that he doesn’t wish to follow through with, and yet feels compelled all the same. 

The Creel house, where those murders heard only in newspapers happened. A family, here one moment in Hawkins and gone the next. Brutally murdered, bones broken, eyes ripped from skulls. 

Dead. 

Gone. 

Lives put to a halt. 

The voice in his mind calls his name again. Has been for some time now. Days, weeks, he’s not sure. But it’s a gentle caress in his mind all the same. A quiet whisper of ‘Andy’—a siren’s call that has him in its grasp. 

‘Andy’ as he brushes his fingers across dust dirtied shelves and bookcases in the home awash with moonlight, peering at various trinkets and once well-loved furnishings. The dust shifts and stirs around him. A halo of sparkling debris that flutters and flits around him as he peruses the interior of the home, taking in all it has to otter. Beautifully vaulted ceilings, sprawling staircases, lovely kitchen, dining room and sitting area. 

He tries to picture the home when they move in. Hopes settled on their shoulders, new keys tossed into their hands, ready to start anew as a family. Now, he stands in a barren wasteland. A place where everything comes to die. 

His feet carry him up the staircase, eyes roving the pictures on the walls, flashlight catching on the dust particles shifting as he moves. There’s a picture of what he assumes is the family hanging on the wall. A beautiful wife, doting father, a golden haired little girl, and a straight faced boy. Henry. His mind fills in the name, and now it settles on a face. Dark hair, severe blue eyes. 

He wonders how a boy, how a young boy like this, could ruin a whole family. How he could look at them, intent on killing, and follow through with it all. 

That compulsion to learn, the compulsion to simply be here, drives Andy further upward, pausing on a room. Inside he finds a wooden panel on the floor that doesn’t quite sit flush. It creaks and groans as he steps on it, edge popping upward. Curious, Andy sets his flashlight down onto the dusty floorboards and pushes up at the broken piece. Within lies a jar, covered like every other inch of this home in a thick layer of dirt and dust. Blowing out a breath, the dust swirls upward, revealing endless black widow spiders within. 

Fear chokes him. Causes him to stumble back, tossing the jar onto the bed above, clutching at his flashlight like it’s a lifeline. Shallow breaths puff in and out of his lungs. Gasps that rattle deep within. And then he sees it. The edge of a book, just above where the jar had been beneath the floorboards. A leather bound cover, smooth to the touch when he grows the nerve to pluck it out and brush along the edges, the binding. 

Etched into the corner is ‘Henry Creel.’ Crude in nature, no more than scratches in the front covering. His fingers brush along the letters, opening the first page to the doodles within. Images of spiders. Long limbs, cruel fangs, beady eyes. Smoky dark drawings, splashed with red streaks. On the next page are bunnies. Long ears, fluffy tails, wide eyes. But it’s the eyes that have his chest rising and falling faster. Eyes that should be bright and warm are crossed out with painted red x marks, slashes on a page, deep as blood. 

Gashes. 

Streaks of anger.

He swallows. Bile rises in his throat. 

He should leave the book. He knows he should. But he tucks it away in his backpack. Tucks it away to let it sit there for a rainy day as he clambers up to his feet, rushing back down the stairs from where he came, neatly stumbling on the bottom step in his haste. 

The front door beckons him forth. Glass panel gleaming in the moonlight, casting a glow along the far wall. Against the fall wall is a clock, a gorgeous grandfather clock that seems to call his name. 

Whispers to him. 

Sings to him. 

Urges him onward. 

He obeys the call, carried over by what feels like a tether, an invisible string. 

There’s a ringing in his ears. 

A probing at the base of his skull.

“Touch it…”

His fingers prickle in anticipation. Hover over the face, worn by years and broken now. 

Silenced by time. 

He hears a voice again. 

A phantom in his ear. A caress against his spine. 

A push. 

His toes brush the edge of the clock, fingers inching closer. 

Tugs the sleeve of his hoodie up around his hand and wipes the back of it across the face of the clock. Exposes the numbers and arms within. 

“What the…” His voice echoes in the home, drowned out by the beat of his heart, when the arms start to move. 

Slow, swirling circles. 

Arms that twirl around and around. Around and around and they don’t stop. 

He hears it then. 

The slow tick-tock. 

Tick-tock. 

Tick-tock. 

A clanging chime, a reverberating gong. 

Loud. 

It’s so damn loud. 

He staggers backwards, the floor shaking beneath him. 

Rattling, tearing, ripping. 

Red illuminates a crack that inches before the clock, the earth pulling at the seams. 

Opening. 

“What th—”

It’s a cry. Cut off and broken as a vine whips up and curls around his ankle. 

Tugs him. 

Drags him. 

He falls onto his stomach. Screams and claws at the ground. At the rug that betrays him, body sliding closer and closer to the rip. 

He screams for someone who never hears. Screams until the walls rattle, hands clutching for purchase on anything, nails skidding on wood. 

Begs for mercy. For death. For a savior. For the reaper. 

He screams until his throat rubs raw, until he’s pleading. 

Anything. 

A sacrifice. 

A deal with God. 

Or the devil. 

“I’ll do anything!”

And then, out of the ground, out of the opening to hell itself, a single word in a voice that sounds nothing of this world. 

The vine around his ankle slackens. 

“Andy…”

 ——

 Two weeks into camp, and everything is running smoothly. You’ve had no major issues, only minor squabbles sorted in your office between campers, and your counselors have been on their best behavior. Sure, there’s the occasional slip up here and there, but that’s to be expected. 

It’s on that second week you find yourself helping put chairs out around a campfire, a projection screen stretched wide across the lawn. All around you kids buzz with anticipation, eagerly looking on to catch a glimpse of what you’ll be playing. For the children it’s “Never Ending Story,” and for the counselors off duty for the night (being you, Chrissy, Steve, Eddie, Jason and Andy) you’ve decided on your own movie night within the gymnasium once you finish setting up for the counselors who are working that evening as a compromise. 

By popular demand it’s “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” and though you hate the idea of playing a movie such as that while quite literally at a sleep away camp, there’s no arguing the decision once it’s made. 

“It’ll be fun,” your coworkers remind you when they let you know what they’ve decided on; however, you find it anything but. 

“Relax, baby,” Eddie coos, fingers curling around the widest part of your hips, tugging you close. The chair he’s holding drops with a clatter onto the forest floor, dark eyes boring into your own. “It’s a movie. It’ll be okay, I promise. And if you get really scared…well, you can always hold my hand.”

“Gonna be my knight in shining armor, huh?” you ask jovially, taking a step closer to him. “Chase away Jason for me?”

“I would run so far away from Jason with you,” he says, and you snort. “I’m not fucking with him. Are you kidding? We’re camp counselors, which makes us Jason’s prey. Our best bet is mad dashing through the woods holding hands.”

“I feel like that’s what you’re not meant to do in these movies. Look at Halloween.” 

At your pout, he continues, “The kids are going to have so much fun. It’s a night off for us. You’ve been working so hard and you deserve to relax a little bit. Want me to go grab you a bowl of M&Ms later? I’ll even take out the ones you don’t like.”

“You mean eat the ones I don’t like,” you tease, fingers sliding down his forearm, along his Wayne tattoo, newly added on the inside of his left bicep, and toy with the threads of the bracelet you made him tied around his left wrist.  

“It’s what any good boyfriend would do. Or at least I think. Haven’t really had much experience with it.”

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, looping the thread of his bracelet around your index finger. “You kept it.”

“‘Course I did. A pretty girl made it for me. Gonna keep that forever.” His arms loop lower around your waist, edging along the lowest part of your spine, verging on slightly inappropriate with the kids coming down at any moment, but you don’t shove him away this time. 

Your breath mingles for a moment, lips inches apart, before Steve’s breaking you apart, uttering you’re on a time crunch and shouldn’t be canoodling. You don’t argue. In fact, the remainder of the setup moves swiftly. Bodies weave in and out of one another, prepping chairs and tables for snacks, as well as sticks for the campfire s’mores. As a tradition, movie nights are also party nights. Nights where the kids can have all the sugary treats they wish, and will never have to tell a soul about it. 

It’s not long before rows of chairs are set and readily available for campers and the multiple tables are full of various snacks, treats and offerings. Groups of children trickle out from their respective cabins all dressed in their comfiest clothes, some donning slippers, others with blankets tucked within their arms. Each gathers their movie snacks before choosing a seat. You, on the other hand, stand faraway in the back, watching as the kids treat each other with candor and kindness, offering open spaces to their fellow campers, eager anticipation for the movie buzzing in their sugar enhanced systems. 

“It’s a shame,” Andy says from behind you. Jolting on the spot, you whirl around, hand over your heart because you hadn’t seen him there. 

It’s a shame. 

Your mind hitches at his words, at the peculiarity of them given the tone of the evening, head shifting enough to eye him precariously through your lashes. “What is?”

He pauses. Stares off into space for a moment. Eyes on nothing in particular as Eddie works on setting up the projector with Steve, handing out hugs like they’re candies when little ones run up to thump against their thighs. A chuckle spills from him, head shaking. 

There’s a choke of breath at your side. The frantic brush of his fingers along a bicep, sweat slicking his brow. “I, ah, I’m not feeling well. Do you think I can just head to my cabin?”

You stiffen, head nodding. “Yeah, sure. Do you need to get checked out by Nurse Mooney?” 

“N-no,” he says, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I—I’ll be fine.”

Without another word, he’s rushing off toward the cabins, rubbing at the back of his neck with his head down. 

“What was that about?” Chrissy asks, appearing at your side in a pair of her camp shorts and a hoodie. She’s put french braids in her hair today, eyes bright in the moonlight. Even dressed down like this, she’s impossibly charming. 

“Has Andy been acting odd lately?” Your words are quiet. Slow. 

“Like odder than usual?” She laughs, but the look on your face has her pause. Lips turning downward, she probes, “What’s wrong?”

“He just seemed on edge all of a sudden. I mean he’s an asshole, but he’s always confident. This felt…different. He seemed nervous. Uncertain or worried about something.”

“I mean…maybe he has been? Yesterday Jason said while they were on lifeguard duty Andy just sort of stared off into space. Like he was there…but not.”

“That’s how he’d just been with me.” 

Frozen in space and time, looking out into nothingness, and then snapping into reality. What had he been looking at? 

“He’s probably just in his head about something. Or trying to sneak off with Tina again,” she says, scrunching her nose and looping her arm through yours. She hugs it tight to her body and you melt a little into her embrace. She gives a little wiggle, pulling you from your silent reverie. “Wanna go watch the movie now? Looks like the guys just finished setting up, so we can start heading to the gym. I’ll probably watch it through my fingers, though. I hate slashers.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, still watching the space between the tree line where Andy had walked through. Can still picture the sweat on his brow, the furrow of them, the downturn of his lips that you’ve always been convinced are permanently set into a sneer. “Sure. Me too.”

 ——

 “So everything is going well?” 

“Amazingly, really,” you reassure him, glancing out of the office, capturing Chrissy’s gaze as she and Steve teach the kids proper form on archery. There’s a line of them, arms stretched back, arrows poised at the ready, waiting for Steve’s whistle to blare out. “Kids are great. Counselors are fine. No one has been seriously injured. Nothing has been destroyed—well, minus the one basketball that popped. But other than that, nothing to report here.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you laugh airily, twining the phone cord around your fingertip. “I promise, dad. You just focus on getting better. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he says gruffly, shifting where he must be laying on the couch, maybe the bed. “Femur is healing just fine, doc says.”

“I’m glad.” Your exhale is one of relief, shoulders slouching comfortably. 

“How’s my boy?” 

His boy. 

Eddie. 

You’d been worried when you first started dating. Especially after the weed mishap during one of those first few times you and Eddie had spent time together. But he’d always loved the guy, especially knowing Wayne for so long, and accepted him into the fold right away. It had been oddly seamless, and ever since he'd taken up calling Eddie ‘his boy.’ Your heart always burns with it, even now, knowing Eddie’s in the music cabin, likely strumming away on a guitar or teaching someone how to play an instrument. Knowing that Eddie’s loved by Wayne, but also by your own family. Fiercely, in a way that sometimes scares you, even. 

“He’s good,” you say softly, back pressing against the wall. “He’s really good.”

“I’m glad, honey. Never seen you light up like you do with that boy. He better be treating you right.”

“Always.” 

And it’s not a lie. Eddie’s been perfect in the past year. Ever respectful, kind, caring and affectionate. No squabbles, not even a minor tiff. Sometimes you question if that’s normal—if two people can get along so well there’s no reason for them to argue. Friends have commented it’s coming, to just wait. But you’ve yet to see it. You’ve seen him get angry, sure, but never directed at you. 

There’s a pause and a swallow on the other end, the smacking of lips after taking a gulp of whatever drink he’s likely got next to him. “Good. Good. I really miss you, hon. Just hope you know.”

“I miss you, too, dad.” There’s a crack at the end of your words, a choke around a muffled sob. Your nose wrinkles, eyes burning with unshed tears. “This was always our thing.”

“I’m not checking out just yet, baby girl. Just a surgery, and just this summer, you hear me?” At your watery laugh, he continues, “You’ll be home before you know it. Bet you grew another inch taller while you’ve been gone.”

“Dad,” you bemoan, rolling your eyes, dragging your forearm across moist lashes. “Two more weeks, and then you’ll see me every day for the rest of the summer. Bet you’ll even get sick of me.”

There’s an incredulous splutter at that. A guffaw that follows, your lips twitching upward. “Never, baby girl. Always and forever, right?” 

Always and forever. 

It’s what you have said ever since you were a little girl and mom had left. Ever since he sat you down on that couch in your old living room, spoke to you softly and gently—like one would speak to a baby doe—and explained all the reasons why it wasn’t your fault. All the reasons it would never be your fault. Ever since it had just been the two of you and dad had to learn how to be both roles in your life without any sort of warning. Ever since he tried his hardest, worked extra hours, and still managed to attend every school or extracurricular function you partook in, while also driving you around to friend’s houses, making sure you were fed and always had everything you’d ever need. Ever since you decided for the rest of your life, it was the two of you against the world. 

You’d never been left wanting for anything. 

Never gone without anything. 

Your best friend. Confidant. The first love of your life. 

Eddie might be the second; in fact, he is the second. 

But before that, it’s always been you and dad. 

Always and forever. 

Something no outside source, no distance, no circumstance could ever take away. You’d do anything for him. Make mountains move, try and part the sea, uproot heaven and hell. So you grin. And you press a hand to your heart, smiling to yourself. A secret thing, meant for him and you. Stolen away from the world. Precious. 

“Always and forever,” you promise. 

 ——

 Music blares from a shoddy speaker in the dimly lit cabin, illuminated by the sun rising through the trees, leaves swaying and shifting in the gentle breeze outside the softly parted window. The same crappy, hand-me-down, camp issued one that Andy needs to thump with the side of his fist every so often to keep the music playing. 

Most of the campers and counselors have already made their way to the mess hall for breakfast. He’s stayed behind, finishing up a morning run and not quite hungry at all. He hasn’t been in a couple days—figures it’s the giant dinner he had the night before. The cafeteria staff had made their signature baked macaroni and cheese. 

No one stops at just one bowl of that. 

He’s warm. Unbearably so. And it feels harsher than the weather outside. This tangible heat that crawls beneath his skin, skitters along like thousands of tiny spiders on his flesh—in his flesh. Fingers reach up to scratch at nothing; gouge scratches into tanned skin, darkened from hours spent sitting on the dock, watching children in the lake day in and day out. 

Ice water does the trick. If only for a moment. He gulps down his first cup and pours another, leaving the refrigerator and freezer door open, despite the fact he can hear the camp princess shouting at him from across the way if she knew what he was doing now with her father’s precious electric bill. 

Someone needs to show her a damn lesson, he thinks. 

“We can…”

The voice startles him. He whirls on the balls of his feet, neck straining toward the open closet, wondering where the voice came from. He calls out into nothingness and is greeted with silence. Long, lingering, languishing silence. 

The glass thuds into the bottom of the kitchenette sink. Shatters against the strainer at the bottom. Andy reaches forward to grasp the shards, wincing as blood pools along the inside of his thumb and index finger, gliding down the inside of his wrist. Trembling, he makes his way to the bathroom, catching the sight of himself in the mirror. 

Dark circles sink into his under eyes. Purple lines that tell a tale of a man who hasn’t slept in days. He cringes at the sight, nearly throws his fist into the glass to eradicate the image of his own self, and flips the knob on the sink. His blood spills down the drain, a fresh bandage put into place as he sits down on the toilet seat. 

Hot. 

He’s still so damn hot. Scalding. Burning. Reeling from it. Eyes dart to the bathroom shower, to the tub there. A thought surfaces, swift and unprovoked. Unprompted, and yet it feels right. The water runs, knob pushed as far as it can go into the cold setting. As it fills the tub, he walks back into the kitchenette and pulls the few ice trays from the freezer. They fall one by one into the tub, dipping below the surface momentarily, and then bobbing at the top. Tiny little blessings that chill his skin upon reaching in to touch—ease the brewing ache in his bones. 

In silence, he strips out of his clothes. Catches on the streaks of black along the inside of his elbows, the curves of his skin. Like ink or spider webs injected into his veins, staining them. He touches them in the mirror, chest rising and falling rapidly, tracing the lines. He can feel them pulse beneath, blood pumping through the darkness; part of him wonders if it’ll only spread this—if it’ll only progress whatever is spilling throughout his system. 

Nurse Mooney will know, he rationalizes, kicking his green shorts off into the corner of the bathroom. He bobs his head for a moment in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth and humming along to the song, trying to distract. 

To deflect. 

To pretend. 

The brush clatters into the cup holder, plastic skittering across the counter in his over exertion. He tosses his baseball hat onto the toilet seat, cards his fingers through his hair, strands falling in disarray about his head. Sinks down into the ice bath, expecting the familiar burn to settle in like the many times his coaches would have him do after a particularly grueling basketball game. Only this time it’s different; this time it feels like an inferno hitting water, creating steam. An instantaneous relief washes over him, eyes shutting against the yellowy lights flickering in the ceiling above. 

“Andy…”

Ice. Cold dread slides down his spine, curls around him, steals his breath. Arms press along the sides of the tub, fingers clutching the edges, knuckles straining white. He calls for Chance to no avail. Only silence greets him—silence and the taunting of the radio in the next room. 

“I will have you, yes I will have you. I will find a way, and I will have you...”

“Hello?” He cries, clutching the shower curtain, sliding it closed. As if that’ll do anything. As if it’ll protect him. His head drops against bent knees, hands on his ears. “Anyone?”

“Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly...”

“This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” 

His voice cracks. Strains. Swallows around the edges of the sob crawling up his throat. He rocks. Back and forth, back and forth, fingers digging into his ears. The chatter of his teeth is harsh enough he feels like it knocks his brain around within his skull. Eighteen. He’s fucking eighteen and he whimpers, a broken thing, a plea for his mom. The utterance of her name through his shuddering lips. Thin and tight, echoing in the four walls of the bathroom, falling on deaf ears.

It’s a prank. 

Some dumb prank one of the kids or the other counselors are playing on him. 

It has to be. 

Has to be. 

“I will collect you and capture you...”

“I’m going to kick the living shit out of you!” Andy screams. 

The radio grows silent. 

His heart pounds in his chest. 

Sweat prickles on his forehead, drips down the side of his face. 

Every inch of his body, the dark swirls on the inside of his elbows, his wrists…they seem to pulse. To elongate beneath his skin, little tendrils that ebb and flow, reaching for something. 

Reaching, reaching, reaching. 

And then. 

Like spiders crawling across his skin, a chill spreads along the back of his neck. The eerie, grating voice of that thing he heard only once before in the Creel house whispers, “Andy…”

——

——

If you made it all the way here, please let me know if you enjoyed. Thank you so, so much. Love, Luna 💌

[honeysuckleharringtons]

any chance you could do Counselors' Lounge for steve please? 🫶🏼💫

hi, love!! i am so so sorry this took so long to get out, work stuff happened and mental health stuff happened but i hope this was worth the wait! it's also not technically workplace but they are working at a summer camp, but if you wanted something else, feel free to leave another ask and i write a new one hehe 🫶🏻💛

"Take Me To The Lake" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: In which Steve's last summer at his childhood summer camp becomes his favorite summer ever.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,048 (she got a lil wordy oops)

Content Warning: reader and steve are implied to be around 18/19, sexual humor and fade to black smut bc steve is a hoe, light mentions of food, mostly fluff but a lil angsty at times, possibly bad descriptions of volleyball bc it's been a minute since i played, reader from ohio lol, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: yeah i did name it after a taylor lyric, what about it??

Originally Written: 07/07/2024 through 0718/2024

Beta Read By: @writer-in-theory 🫶🏻❤️

masterlist | summer celebration

“You're going down!” Steve shouted from his side of the sandy volleyball court, hands on his hips to further prove his point.

You simply shook your head. “You wish, pretty boy!” It looked a whole lot like he mouthed something to the effect of ‘Yeah, I do,’ but a children's summer camp wasn't exactly the place to unpack that.

Camp Clearwater was probably your favorite place on Earth, and it was the one place on Earth where you were guaranteed a month of wonderful bliss with your favorite person ever. To say it was your favorite month of all twelve in a year was probably a little biased, but when you were getting to see the one person on the planet you adored more than anyone else, it was hard not to pick favorites.

Steve Harrington had started out just like any other camper in your eyes: for one, your rival, considering you were never on the same team at camp due to gender differences; not to mention, he was someone you only saw that one time of year. But, thanks to raging hormones at the wonderful age of thirteen, a chance game of “spin the bottle” after dark had brought the two of you together and you'd been inseparable ever since. Sure, you were pretty much only guaranteed the month of July together, but after that fateful first kiss, you called each other every night and all but forced your parents to drive you to the other's city every now and again for a date or two.

“Alright, when the whistle blows, the Ladybugs will serve,” the announcer practically yelled through the bullhorn. Your bones rattled with the volume of her shout, but it only added to the excitement coursing through you.

The whistle blew, the ball went up, and Kimmy smacked it right into the back corner of the court. Was it cheating for you to pick your two best players for the championship set? Maybe, but with Kimmy's precise serves and Megan's ability to keep the ball in the air no matter how many times she had to dive or slide, it would feel wrong for anyone else to be on that court.

The girls met in the middle of the court for a high five, clearly proud of the serve. Cheering them on from the sidelines, you yelled, “Good job with the ace, girls!”

The ball went up again, this time a lighter serve that barely made it over the net, taking out the setter of Steve's team. Still, they managed to keep the ball up, even with the weaker of their players being the one to spike the ball back over to your side of the court. It went back and forth a few times, eventually ending when Kimmy's block went out of bounds.

Steve had definitely brought his A Game when training the two boys on his team, seeing as most of the round, both your team and his were neck and neck on points. Before you knew it, the score was twenty-three to twenty-three, and either team needed only two more points to win.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn't the best decision to coach against your boyfriend. Sure, healthy competition was always a good thing in relationships, but it was Steve's last year as a counselor, and you'd hate for him to walk away sad. Although, from the crease forming between his brows, you could tell that he was more stressed than anything right now.

“Come on, guys, you got this!” he shouted from his side of the court, hands clapping loudly in excitement. You couldn't resist doing the same, turning to your own team and cheering them on.

The next point went to the Ladybugs when Megan surprised them with a tip that fell right over the net, giving the guys' team basically no time to bounce back. You were one point away, and the thought of winning the championship—even if it was only just at some summer camp—made your heart rattle inside your rib cage.

Then, the Beetles took the next point with a shocking service ace, keeping their team and the game alive.

Two more points and again, it was anyone's game. Your heart pounded and your hands shook at the exhilaration and thrill that this game was giving you.

The ball went back and forth, back and forth, until you'd forgotten you were a coach, not a spectator. You were just as entranced by the ball as the parents watching from the bleachers were, and you didn't even realize what had happened until all the girls on your team came flooding over to you, all squeals and cheers.

“We did it!” one girl, Britt, screamed as she jumped up and down. Another squealed, apparently incapable of forming words. Megan and Kimmy were all smiles as they did the handshake all the girls in your cabin had started doing toward the beginning of the month.

You couldn't help but be proud of your girls, not just Kimmy and Megan, but each of the girls on your team that had fought for this year's trophy. In a sense, it was your last trophy, since you'd now graduated high school and wouldn't be playing in college. Though, you definitely were coming back to Camp Clearwater every summer you could.

After your celebratory dinner in the dining hall and the most bittersweet of goodbyes as you sent all your new friends back home to their parents, you couldn't help but search for your ‘rival’ coach to see how he was handling things.

You found him back in his cabin, alone since all the campers had already been sent home. Walls that were usually filled with posters of baseball players and favorite movies were now bare, beds that normally housed pre-teens were now vacant, and the boy who usually wore a smile was now sporting a frown, one that displayed what looked like sadness and homesickness.

“Cheer up, pretty boy,” you said, catching his attention, his eyes darting up to meet your figure where you stood in the doorway. “You've always known I'm better than you at volleyball.”

He snickered, his frown slightly disappearing. “You wish.”

You stepped closer to him, shutting the cabin's front door lightly behind yourself. “What was that you mouthed at me today? Yeah, I do?”

Steve rolled his eyes, though his expression displayed joy at your words. “Thought you might not have caught that.”

Your hands met his hair, swiping through the brown strands delicately. “I'm a better lip reader than you thought, Harrington.”

“Yeah, that's not your only specialty with lips though, is it?”

A scoff escaped your lips. “Is that all you think about?”

“Sometimes,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “But mostly I just think about how pretty you are and how lucky I am.”

A smile pulled at your own lips, your heart nearly melting at his sweet words. Still, despite his demeanor, you still felt the need to ask, “Are we okay after today? No hard feelings?”

His brows creased. “Why wouldn't we be okay?”

“I did beat you at your very last Beach Bug tournament,” you reminded him, your hands moving down to his own and interlocking your fingers.

“Don't remind me,” he said dramatically, throwing his head back. Then, he met your eyes again, his expression sickeningly sweet. “Seriously though, we're okay.”

You held out your pinky finger, a pout appearing on your face. “You prommy?”

He locked his pinky around yours. “Yes, I prommy,” he replied sarcastically before pulling your hand up to his mouth and kissing the knuckles.

Then he was pulling you onto the bed with him, both your legs and his braiding together as they dangled off the side of the mattress. Steve's hand met your waist as he pulled you into his side while his lips met your head for a soft kiss.

“Weird how this is the last weekend I'll spend in one of these cabins,” he mentioned as his eyes darted from you to the roof.

“Don't remind me,” you parroted his words from before, only this time they were true.

His hand slid down to meet your bare leg, skin sun-kissed from all the time you'd been spending in it lately. You noticed his eyes avoiding yours, and the homesickness that swirled in them. The two of you still had another forty-eight hours before you had to leave each other, and yet he was already longing to be back in your arms.

“I do have some somewhat good news, though.”

Your heart raced at the possibilities, though your brows wrinkled in confusion. “What?”

“Well, I was gonna tell you over the phone when I found out but I thought it would be better to tell you in person. Just in case I don't get the reaction I'm hoping for.”

This only made you more confused. “Why would I be upset over good news?”

By now, the two of you had made your way back to sitting, his legs still dangling from the bed while yours were now pulled underneath yourself. Steve’s eyes were more serious now, his breathing speeding up as he got closer to his confession. “Do you remember how I said I was moving for college?”

“Yeah, your dad was trying to get you into U of Chicago,” you waved your hand as you remembered his words. “Alma Mater crap, right?”

Steve chuckled at your question. “I may have not been entirely sincere about the whole thing.”

He just kept adding to your state of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Steve took your hands in his, watching as they intertwined once again. “He was trying to get me into UChi… but that's not where I'm going.”

“What are you…”

The next statement had your heart racing just as much as the volleyball match that afternoon. “I got into Bowling Green.”

Your mouth flew open as your arms wrapped around his neck, squeals flying out of your mouth left and right. “You're kidding!”

His head shook against your shoulder where it rested, and you swore you felt a tear slip against your tee shirt. “I know it's not Denison, but-”

“It's here. It's two hours away from me. Not six.” By now, tears were forming in your own eyes, your smile wider than the lake outside of that cabin. You pulled his face away from your shoulder, meeting his gaze again. “Why would I be upset over this?”

Those big brown eyes you loved fell down to the floor, his tears drying up in an instant. “It doesn't mean I can come back here.”

You wiped at a stray drop of water on his cheek, causing him to shiver at the touch. “Why not?”

“My dad made an agreement with me. If I promised him my summers at the firm, I could promise you my weekends during the school year.”

Butterflies shot off in your stomach like fireworks. He may not have been able to give you everything you wanted, but he could give you enough. And that was simply all you needed.

Hands made their way into dark brown, beautiful strands. Lips met skin, the pulse point of his neck to be precise. “Steven,” one kiss, “Otis,” another kiss, on his jaw, “Harrington,” one last kiss, underneath his ear.

“Hmm?” he asked. You could almost hear his eyebrow cocking upward.

Another long kiss, then a small nibble to his earlobe. “I love you.”

“You're insane.”

His tee shirt made a light thump against the floor. “Insane for you.”

Steve looked down at you through dark eyelashes, meeting you with a half smirk. “I take it you're excited about this whole thing?”

“Very,” you nodded, your grin outright showy at this point. “You remember earlier how you said I was going down?”

The man could hardly keep his composure as your hands met the button of his shorts. “You are truly insane.”

“Maybe…” You finally made your way off the bed, sinking to your knees in front of him. “Do you wanna find out how insane I truly am?”

“I've died. I'm in Heaven right now. Or Hell, one of the two.”

“Me too, Stevie,” you said, leaving a kiss on his knee. “Me too.”

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @mochminnie

[flowercrowngods]

Suggesting/Requesting Eddie having a crush on the valiant knight Steve Dustin goes on about, not realizing it's Steve "the Hair" Harrington and the way he reacts when he realizes they're the same dude. Cue adjustment period.

hi! first of all thank you for the prompt 🥰 i slipped and kinda decided to take your ‘valiant knight Steve’ quite literally and made this a medieval/regency au with knight steve and bard eddie, kinda enemies to lovers. it totally got out of hand, so this is part 1, with all my apologies to your original prompt 🤍🌷

Eddie smiles as the fields and forest that surround Hawkins come into view, kissed by the early afternoon sun with more affection and richness than the city probably deserves. It looks different this time of year, the green seems deeper than he left it, and nostalgia paints him a picture of glory and welcome that would make any traveller linger at the sight. 

He knows it’s only the magic of coming home, the thrill of having been gone so long that he needs to learn his town a-new, and the curiosity of a poet that makes his heart beat faster; but it’s his life’s blood to embrace all of that. So he spurs on his trusty horse to make it home even just a minute sooner. 

The people’s reactions to his arrival come in multitudes, though Eddie can respect the healthy dose of mistrust with which they regard him. He has made a name for himself after all, a bard more than a jester these days, but most people don’t tend to forget the pretty face they chased out of the city on multiple occasions. 

He lifts his head in greeting as he passes the elderly Wheelers as they’re tending to the flowers lining their windows, and grins with glee at both the disapproving scoff and the wary nod he gets in return. 

He’s in good spirits. Great spirits, in fact, the sun shining down on him, welcoming him and lighting familiar paths for him to tread again after years of absence. Hawkins will see his glory, his success, his victory, and it will pale in jealousy and regret. They cannot chase him away this time, not with the title of royal bard and winner of the bardic competition three years in a row. 

If his travels have taught him anything, it’s that he is pettiness acts as a wonderful motivation.

Of course, he shall also see his friends again. One of his saddlebags is half full with their letters that have accumulated over the years, all of which Eddie has kept for reasons of muse and a heart entirely too soft for his own good.

Most of all, though, even more than proving his worth and success to his city and its people, it is curiosity that brings him home. 

Dustin and his friends have been mentioning a most valiant knight, waxing poetic about his glorious deeds and his kinder heart — or, as poetic as they get, which is hardly at all. Which consequently made Eddie write no less than five ballads about the stories they told him, three of which have made it into songs yet, one of which he was made to play in every tavern on his long journey back to Hawkins and to Princess Nancy herself on more than one occasion.

The Knightmærs, as he calls his little collection of poeterey, his pride and joy about a man he has yet to meet. Tales about maidens saved and brothers defeated, hearts stolen and retrieved with the gentlest gestures, and children protected against the evils of night, expecting naught but friendship. And friendship he got. 

If Eddie’s heart picks up yet another notch at the thought of meeting this knight as the familiar city walls tower before him, he allows it for a second before announcing himself to the guards. They looked wary upon his approach and blanch now as they hear his name; Eddie does not hide his laughter this time and preens as he is told to ride on. 

“Oh, Hawkins, old friend,” he mutters under his breath, not even bothering to hide his smile. “You and I shall have so much fun, shan’t we?” 

~*~

He barely makes it to the home he has been sharing with his uncle since the ripe age of twelve with minimal fuss, unsaddling his horse and guiding her to the trough, when he hears it. 

“Eddie!”

Halting in his motions the currycomb, he looks up from the rusty brown that shines red like embers in the sun and spots Dustin racing down the street towards him. 

He lowers the comb and steps around his horse, grinning at his rapidly approaching friend. 

“Why, good day to you, young traveller, what brings you to my humble abode?” 

Dustin doesn’t falter in his approach, doesn’t even slow down, and Eddie braces himself for impact. Years of experience have made him quite practiced in handling tackle-hugs, but Dustin has grown quite a bit since he last saw him, and they both stumble backwards when Dustin’s arms wrap around Eddie in a way that seems to press all air out of his lungs. Eddie laughs as he hugs his friend back with as much ferocity. 

“I’ve missed you! I was writing to you this morning when I remembered you said you’d come this week. I didn’t think it would be today!” 

“I came as soon as I could. Such is the Munson way, or did you forget?” 

Dustin shakes his head and finally lets go, though Eddie yearns for another hug. It’s been too long. The boy has grown. He’s hardly a boy anymore, though he shall always remain as such in Eddie’s heart. He smiles and ruffles Dustin’s locks, realising with a pang that they’re almost of a height now. 

An ache like homesickness settles in his gut and wears on his heart heavily. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smoothing out the curls he’s put in disarray. “It’s just been too long. And I’ve missed you, too. You’ve grown quite a bit since last we talked.” 

“I have!” And he looks so proud of it, too, preening a little under Eddie’s faux scrutiny, and it’s what makes him pull Dustin against his chest again. 

Eddie continues taking care of his horse, feeding her, combing through her mane, making sure she has as much comfort as he can provide after their long days of travel. Dustin sits on the fence and watches him tend to her, feeding her the occasional apple when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. He hides his smile and pretends not to see. 

God, but he has missed his friend. 

Their twosomeness is rudely and entirely too quickly interrupted by Lord Harrington of all people, who hurries down the street in search of Dustin. 

Eddie never did like the lord and his pompous appearance coupled with his rude personality. He always acted like a prince among men, subject to many a jest in Eddie’s younger days. On one memorable occasion, Eddie managed to steal the lord’s clothes and swap them with his own, making him walk about in linen rags and torn-up trousers. 

Days later, all of his lute strings ripped just as he was getting ready to play at the tavern, and he never messed with Harrington again — even though there was a parcel three days later with new lute strings and his old clothes he had made the lord wear. No note attached to it, because Lords didn’t stoop down to converse with lowly peasants even for revenge. 

So, seeing Harrington now on the very first day of his being back, it sours Eddie’s face and his humour. 

“Why, Lord Harrington,” he speaks before the man can get a word in. “To what do I owe the displeasure of seeing you here? Have you suffered a fall from grace yet, or was it a hit in the head that left you disoriented, bringing you to my humble abode?” 

Harrington frowns at him, though Eddie deems to detect confusion more than distaste. 

And then he has the audacity of not even answering to Eddie’s ruse, simply ignoring him and instead turning around to Dustin. 

“Dustin, Master Clarke is expecting you. I will not cover for you once more.” 

“But—“ 

“Spare me,” Harrington says, hands on his hips now, and Eddie is starting to feel defensive over Dustin. How dare his lordship come and steal his best friend away when he hasn’t even been home for an hour yet? 

Before he can get so much as a word in, however, Dustin is already jumping from his perch on the fence and trudging towards Harrington, rounding the man and leading the way up the hill towards the castle. 

“I’ll come back later, Eddie,” Dustin says over his shoulder, and then he is gone, rounded the corner, out of his sight. 

Harrington, however, lingers. Eddie raises his eyebrows in question and challenge, and the Lord scoffs a little. It’s like he wants to say something — but what could it be? What could Lord Harrington have to say to him, years after they last saw each other? 

He does look stunning, Eddie has to admit with a grudge against his self and his integrity. The golden light of the afternoon sun catches in his hair, likening it to strands of gold that kings and queens pay alchemists across the world to procure. Eddie, for a moment, feels like he has found it in Lord Harrington’s hair and the skin of his face, but he quickly snaps out of it, cutting off that particular train of thought before it can run away form him. 

“I hear you are a bard of great renown these days.” 

The words catch him off his guard, for Eddie was sure that the Lord would not attempt to converse. Yet it seems that propriety still has a tight grip on him. 

Does Harrington like his ballads, his plays, his poetry and sonnets? Has he heard them? Or has he heard of them? Has word travelled across the countries, telling of Eddie the Bard and his brave-hearted muse his soul yearns for and his quill bleeds for?

Eddie is not sure which option thrills him more, but whichever one it is, it makes him smile, feeling quite bashful and yet proud. 

“So you hear,” he says, approaching the stiff Lord. “What exactly is it that you hear, my Lord?” 

He swallows, following Eddie’s steps with his eyes, turning his head when the bard circles him slowly. “I hear you sing of beasts slain and brothers banished, a knight at the heart of your ballads.” Eddie smiles at that, knowing that Harrington has at least heard of two of his Knightmærs. I hear it sounds like mockery, the knight but an object of your hyperbolic fascination and flowery imagination, his pain and bravery nothing to you.” 

He stops dead in his tracks, his feet planted right before Harrington. The Lord looks like he is taking personal offence to his works, and it irritates the bard. 

“And what, Lord Harrington, would you know of fascination, pain and bravery? I cannot imagine you have faced a lot of hardship in your life, and the only acts of bravery you had to chance upon were mislead in the name of false honour.” 

“False honour,” Harrington repeats, his words like poison, sharp and dangerous as the sword’s blade at his hip. “You would know something about that, I imagine, telling stories of which you have no idea. Immortalising glory where there should be sympathy.” 

Eddie studies him, the frown between his brows, the hard line of his jaw, set and calmed to keep more words from spilling. Imposing, this Lord is. A sight for sore eyes even in his  purely misplaced anger. 

Eddie huffs, his eyes travelling between the Lord’s where they are standing so impossibly close. 

“Sympathy,” he repeats. “Nobody, my Lord, wants a ballad of sympathy. It is glory that the people seek!” He steps back from Harrington, gesturing with his arms as he dramatically recounts the lessons he has learned over the years, passionate for his craft. “Glory, heroism, heartbreak and love! Yearning and longing and deeds of an aching heart, that is what the people want to hear. That is what deserves to be immortalised in art, in poetry, in song! I shall forgive you for being so painfully unaware of this, my Lord, but I shall not stand to be in your company much longer, calling my work lacking or a mockery when it is borne out of nothing but loyalty, fascination and love.” 

They are close again, because Harrington did not step back when Eddie approached him once more, his feet planted like a tree, fierce and strong and unbudging. 

It is intoxicating, though Eddie blames half of it on the passion and the rage, on the bravery that possessed him to send the Lord away, or the fierceness with which he came to his muse’s defence. 

Harrington swallows again, his eyes wandering over Eddie’s face once more, lingering at his lips, both their jaws set in determination and perhaps a sudden tension.  

“Forgive me for insulting you with my company,” he speaks at last, his voice nothing but a rasp. “You will find there is an irony to your words soon. I shall not rob you of that discovery. I ask you do not take it out on our mutual friends when you do, Munson.” 

And with one last glance, Harrington turns on his heel and hurries up the hill, too, leaving Eddie puzzled and quite dazed upon the lingering warmth of their close proximity. 

When did Harrington become so handsome? There was a fire in his eyes that Eddie got to witness for just the blink of an eye, but he wonders where that comes from, what it means, and what other secrets he holds. 

Perhaps, if he cannot meet his muse, the knight Dustin has only ever referred to as Steve, Harrington might serve to inspire a ballad or two himself.

~*~

Harrington catches his eyes on more than one occasion over the next days. Eddie is invited to the castle to play for Princess Chrissy, though she greets him like an old friend and makes him sit close to her at the banquet. Right beside Harrington, who merely nods at Eddie, his fists clenched as Chrissy asks the bard about one of his ballads — the one about the valiant knight slaying a horde of monsters to keep the kingdom’s children safe. 

The Lord must really hate Eddie’s work. It fills him with spiteful glee, for some reason, and he makes sure to play and recite all of his Knightmærs that night. Harrington excuses himself when Eddie hasn’t even made it halfway through his songs, and he doesn’t return that night. 

He takes personal offence now and vows to make the Lord’s life as difficult as he can. 

But still there is no sign of Steve. 

Eddie is starting to get frustrated. 

He was supposed to be here, stand tall and proud with a smile on his face upon seeing Eddie, sweep him off his feet, make him swoon, dare Eddie to fall in love with the face long after the name. 

His mood is sour, and only sours further when Harrington rounds the corner and stumbles upon Eddie who is tuning his lute for tonight’s banquet. The annual royal tournament is set for the next morning, so everyone is in a good mood. 

Well, everyone except Eddie. And Lord Harrington, by the look on his face. 

“Munson,” he says, straightening before he bows his head in greeting. “Forgive me, I was looking for some quiet. I shall look somewhere else.” 

And, somehow, that is enough to snap his patience that was already wearing thin. “Why can you not stand being in my presence, sir?” he asks, rising from his seat. “Does it disgust you so to be around mere peasants?” 

Harrington looks taken aback, shock and confusion clear on his face before a frown takes its place and washes away all further emotions. 

“It is not your presence that bothers me, nor the nature of your birth.”

“And yet you leave every time I so much as strum a tune, Lord Harrington, ready to throw both caution and propriety to the winds. Leaving me to wonder what it is that I have done to deserve such treatment.” 

Eddie finds himself walking closer and closer to the Lord, coming to a stop not one foot before him. He is drawn in by his presence, his charm as alluring as his cold silence. Everything about Lord Harrington intrigues him, horrified as he is to admit it. But with Steve not around to catch his eye and captivate his heart and mind alike, he simply has to find inspiration elsewhere. 

And the way Harrington’s face is taken over by a dangerous expression is the most inspiring, alluring thing he has seen in a while, even though it is directed at him. 

“How can you have the audacity to feign confusion over my disdain, bard,” he hisses, and Eddie shivers slightly. Harrington does not even have the sense to step back, staying right where he is, so close, so improper. “How can you pretend it is not my life you have taken and made your own, singing songs and telling stories, making into nothing but a jaunty tale recited by drunkards with no regard to the blood it was written in.” 

Eddie blinks, not quite catching up with the point Harrington is making. 

“What—“ 

“You sing your ballads, your histories, your Knightmærs like you know what they mean. Making a mockery of me, stealing from me every chance to tell my tale in my own voice, in my own tempo. Entire kingdoms will know before I will have had the chance to wake up from a nightmare, and they sing about it, sing about pain they did not have the misfortune to suffer, sing with a smile, with booming voices because you make them. And yet the only one without a voice remains the one who slew the beast.” 

Lord Harrington speaks to him as though he takes offence at the content of Eddie’s ballads, offence at the reality of their background. But what right does he have to take offence when his songs are based on heroic deeds, recounted to him first hand by his very best friend. What right does Harrington have to question the truth behind them? 

“If it is a matter of truth that concerns you, let me reassure you, my Lord, that all of my ballads are based on true events. I ask that you do not call me a liar, no matter how great your dislike of my craft.” 

“It is not a liar that I call you, but rather a thief.” 

Eddie gasps, offended now. “What do you suggest I have stolen, then?” 

“A person’s right to their own story. To their own nightmares. A man's right to flee from the horrors he lived through, acquainting every tavern in this kingdom and the next with his horrific and desperate deeds.” 

“How dare you call his deeds horrific,” Eddie hisses now, feeling protective over his knight. “How dare you accuse me of ill intent when every word out of my quill is written with nothing but love and admiration.” 

“For whom?” Harrington challenges, disdainful and cold. “Only for yourself, your vanity, your overgrown sense of artistic ambition.”

“No,” he shakes his head, hands clenched into fists as he finds himself incredibly close to Lord Harrington, their faces only inches apart now. “It is love for this person I have never met, whom my dear friend has told me about. A man who has kept me awake at night as I was pouring over letter after letter, hoping he should be well. It is a love so strong it has to be turned into art, into song, love that should be sung in every voice of the kingdom.” He scoffs, stepping back to catch his breath. “I do not expect you to know such a love when all you have in your cold heart is disdain for all things beautiful. You would never know bravery if it looked you in the face, you would never know love if it was the very fabric that makes this world. It would slip through your fingers, my Lord, for you would be busy yearning for the day your life found its meaning.” 

He is seething, heaving breaths, out of control over the words tumbling out of his mouth. Insulted in his pride and his muse, offended, hurt. Confused, still, as to why the Lord hates his songs with such vigour. 

“Is that your opinion of me?” Harrington whispers, though even in that toneless voice of his lies so much that Eddie cannot begin to decipher. 

“Yes,” he whispers back, the fight leaving him now, the very air sucked out of the room they share. “I believe I made that clear just now.” 

Harrington takes one step closer once more, but Eddie does not budge. 

“Then I suggest you forget that knight of yours,” he says, quiet and final. “And forget the idea you have of love. To love someone is not to turn his nightmares into song. To love someone is not to look him in the eye and insult his very existence even further. You love yourself, your craft, your mind. But you do not love him. You would not recognise him if he shared the same breath as you.” 

Eddie huffs, just barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “And what makes you so sure of that, Lord Harrington?” 

A smile twitches his lips, though there is no mirth, no glee. “You have just proven it to me, Mr Munson.” He takes a step back and evades Eddie’s eyes. “I believe you should return to the fest now. Good night.” 

And with that, he turns around and leaves. 

Eddie finds himself rooted to the ground, air returning to the room now but still he is unable to catch his breath, staring ahead as he is. 

Words echo in his mind as the picture paints itself and a horrible, horrible realisation dawns on him. 

You will find there is an irony to your words soon. 

How can you pretend it is not my life you have taken and made your own?

But you do not love him. You would not recognise him if he shared the same breath as you.

You have just proven it to me, Mr Munson.

But… There is no way. There is no way that Dustin’s friend, Dustin’s knight and protector, his saviour, Steve, should be the same as Lord Harrington with his careful, quiet, disdainfully quirked eyebrow. 

Except, Lord Harrington collected Dustin from Eddie’s home, speaking with him in a tone filled with such familiarity, they cannot be mistaken as anything but friends. 

And Lord Harrington had listened with such rapt attention when Eddie played his jaunty tunes and the well-known classics at the banquet days ago, looking like he enjoyed Eddie’s play. His face had only soured when people started requesting his newer original songs, his fists clenched upon the opening chords of The Knight and His Nightmare, leaving the hall altogether when people requested more. 

You sing your ballads, your histories, your Knightmærs like you know what they mean. 

Eddie’s heart falls when he realises what he has done. How blind he was to the frowns and the tension, how deaf to the hints and insinuations, how ignorant he was of the pain he inflicted on Lord Harrington. Lord Steven Harrington. Steve. 

His Steve. And yet not his at all.

He falls back onto the bench, dazed, as the weight of his realisation settles inside his chest. 

onwards to part 2