#steve harrington hurt

[eds6ngel]

when i kissed the teacher masterlist ༊*·˚

all parts and spinoffs to my series 'when i kissed the teacher.' ˚♡⋆

♡ sfw. ☾ nsfw.

series!

♡ part one.

♡ part two.

♡ part three.

♡ part four.

♡ part five.

spinoffs!

♡ steve and reader's first date.

♡ reader sleeps over at steve's for the first time.

♡ reader and steve go on a double date with robin and vickie.

☾ steve and reader's first time.

♡ steve and reader's first fight.

♡ alena calls reader 'mom' for the first time.

♡ steve thinks about marrying reader.

♡ steve proposes to reader.

♡ reader tells steve she is pregnant.

[persage]

I WILL FIND YOU - S. HARRINGTON

Summary: Vecna knows he's losing the war, so he makes a trade. He agrees to stop the attacks, and asks for only one thing in return-You. Seven. By keeping you and Eleven apart, he will be safe forever.

In which you are one of the kids from the lab.

(PostS4! Steve Harrington x Reader) Masterlist .

Part 2: Sacrifices

Words Count: 4.3 k

WARNINGS! : Heavy Angst and Whump. Mentions of psychological and physical abuse. If you are sensitive to certain topics please don't read it, i don't wanna trigger you, your mental well-being it's important to me (also take care of yourself <3)

Basically a -way darker- Stranger Things's remake of Tangled and just another Steve Harrington's love story cause I can't stop writing about him.

Vecna knows he's losing the war, there are forces against him, stupid humans trying to survive in every stupid way. But you are exhausted too, you aren't gonna last long and you all know it. Battle after battle, death after death, hope fades and every time you come up with a new plan and arm yourself, or go on a reconnaissance mission to rid the Hawkins streets of demogorgons, you can't help but wonder who'll be the next. You almost lost Will last time. Robin was injured some days ago. Hopper lost his hand trying to save Murray and Murray, he died anyway. You are no longer sure what are dying for, what you are fighting for. After all you've been through, from your escape from the lab, to your arrival in Howkins, to the rediscovery of your dormant powers, nothing seems to make sense anymore, not if you ultimately fail to kill that damned monster. Then you turn to Steve Harrington, asleep exhausted in a corner of the shelter next to Robin, her hand wrapped in his, Steve's body covered with visible bruises and scratches and his expression tense even in his sleep. And suddenly you know that your reason is a boy like many others. And you know it probably won't be enough to keep you both alive: feelings don't save people in this war. They haven't saved Eddie, nor Max or Murray, and maybe they won't save Will, feverish in an unmade bed not far from you.

Creel or 001 or Vecna, whoever that monster is, is weak, tired. It is a war of wait, that goes neither back nor forward. Sometimes 001 thinks that if he just waits he could watch men destroy themselves until they disappear, other times he thinks they don't deserve this concern. But what he can do is taking his time to recover and come back stronger than before, perhaps with a few more allies. He's already got Eddie Munson, now he is ready to take someone much stronger and with his new puppet by his side he will finally win. Humanity will be over. So he makes a trade, he agrees to stop the attacks and asks for only one thing in return: he wants the only person that can actually destroy him, someone with powers too similar to his own. He asks for you y/n l/n, Seven, the one who ran away from him. He knows that when you and Eleven'll find the right way to combine your powers, then there will be no escape for him, that you could hold the balance of power in this fight. So one day he makes his proposal to you, in a low and frightening voice. He's in your head, a dark echo that portends the worst.

"If you come with me your friends will be safe." He ramains silent for a while as you let yourself fall to the bathroom floor, your hands clasped on your knees. "You're lying." You whisper, hoping no one hears you. "You have a chance to stop this, Seven you really want to waste it?" He asks, while he lets the faces of all the people who have died or who could do so scroll through your mind. Eddie covered in blood, Hopper holding his missing hand, Murray being devoured by a Demogorgons, Joyce holding Will in her arms and Eleven exhausted to the limit. Steve covered in bruises and blood. Max, still comatose in the hospital. Lucas, Mike, Nancy. All of them. You can save them, maybe. You just have to make the boldest choice: trust the devil. You shake your head, afraid. "It's a trap"

"I don't set traps, Seven, I give freedom to people. Let me save you too." You put your hands to your ears, even if it is useless, to chase his voice away. "Let me save them"

"I know how you save people, I won't let you do that again."

"This time, I could let them go ... Just come with me. You don't want me to kill Steve, do you Seven?" And it's time it breaks you, the image of Steve Harrington's cold, motionless body facing you, eyes closed, lips firmly folded into an eternal aching expression, the bluish color of the bruises mingles with the pallor of his skin and you call him, desperate, and you shake him and he doesn't react. He is a soulless shell. He is dead and you don't realize you've started screaming loudly.

*

"It's not gonna happen." Steve has his hands closed in two fists resting on his hips and shakes his head repeatedly, that's the only thing he can do: say no, try to prevent this madness. The worst thing is that no one else is as convinced as he is, he sees a timid hope in their eyes, the vague hint of assent and that's enough to drive him out of his mind. Is he really the only one he cares about your well being?

"Steve .." You whisper, approaching him as he walks away, pacing back and forth through the small room. If he stops he gets the impression that he might collapse, he's already risked losing Robin, he can't let anything happen to you. He wouldn't forgive himself and he honestly doesn't care that you're a badass superhero with superpowers. Fuck superpowers, protecting you is his job, it has been since you showed up at his house after Billy's beating and his amazing walk in the tunnels with the kids. You, who had literally just closed an immense portal to a scary world and wore the signs of weariness and fatigue on your face, had showed up at his door to check if he was okay.

"I knew you would be alone, it's not safe."

"I'm fine y/n, seriously"

"I'm not saying you're not fine Harrington, I'm saying I don't want you alone."

"No, no! We can't allow it, we know it's a lie. Vecna'll kill her" Steve looks for Hopper, Joyce, someone to listen to him. Hopper sighs and looks at you with regret. After all this time you've become a daughter to him, but the whole world is paying a very high price for this war and he knows that maybe taking some time could be a solution. "It's a possibility, of course" He confirms. "A dangerous possibility though." Lucas steps in, approaching to hug you. "He's weak," Will whispers, drawing your attention. He is pale, half hidden under the covers to save himself from the cold and fever. "I can hear him. Maybe he's not lying." Joyce looks at you hopefully. "He could break the bond with Will so we don't have to ... I mean, hurt him too. And we'll buy some time." They don't need to convince you, you've already made your decision, you just want them to know what to do. "We can't beat him without you." Dustin whispers. "Eleven can and I will take time until she's strong enough to do it on her own." You reply, turning to El. Once again it is Steve who objects. "He will get stronger too in the meantime. Do you realize that it doesn't make sense? It's a suicidal plan." He shouts, approaching you and gently grabbing your shoulders, shaking you.

"Steve, Steve please try to understand" You put your hand on his cheek and caress him softly, for all the times you've refrained from doing it, for all the years you've repressed and hidden your feelings. You let yourself get carried away by his warm and soft skin under your fingertips, the slight hint of beard, the creases around the lips and the scars under the flesh. "You have already decided" His voice is a murmur and it breaks, shattered like glass, his gaze becomes lucid and his grip grows stronger as if to hold you back. "Stay here." And God only knows how hard it is for you to step back, move away from him. Everything around you is still, you don't see anyone else, you don't hear their voices anymore. Steve Harrington is all that matters to you now. "I won't change my mind. It's our only option."

"That's not true, we have other solutions. We can keep fighting." He insists, trying to get close to you again. He is suffering, you recognize the slight shaking in his right hand as he tries to hide it behind, typical of when he is nervous or stressed and the way his lower lip protrudes slightly, like he is about to cry. He keeps silently begging you and is still aware that he is helpless. "No, but it is the only one who will perhaps allow you to live."

"I won't let you" This time he takes a firm step and hugs you tightly. "You can't. I won't let you do it"

"I know Steve, I know" With your face pressed against his chest you inhale his perfume and hide the tears. " Forgive me" You place one hand on his chest and one on his head and use your powers to make him collapse to the ground, unconscious. Holding back a sob and more tears, you manage to hold him close to you so that he doesn't collapse as Hopper helps you to lay him down, his clear eyes serious and worried. "You don't have to do it kid" You hold Jim's hand and don't reply.

In the darkness of the night Vecna collects what is due to him. You walk slowly, his long hand extended towards you. "Welcome home, Seven." With a quick gesture, he spells your memories away, slowly you feel everything you are and know slipping away from you, like words are erased from a sheet of paper as it becomes white again. You didn't know he could do it, none of you did. You feel stupid for getting caught so easily, you try to fight it, to keep something of you but it's not a power you know, you can't manage it. All you can do is concentrate: hide something in the back of your mind, memories in memories, hoping that one day you will be able to unlock them.

"You're the closest thing to a sister I've ever had." Max confesses to you, hugging you, sitting on the sofa in his house. Billy has only been dead for a month, the worst is yet to come for her.

Robin passes you a bowl of ice cream, she has been working at Scoops for a short time. No Russians, no monsters, no war "I don't believe you have never eaten one. How did you survive so far?"

Steve hugs you, his face is covered in bruises from the torture of the Russians and you are still lying on the ground as the Mind Flayer approaches dangerously. Steve shields you with his body while you are so weak and exhausted that you can't even find the strength to move. "Go away, Steve." "You come with me"

Murray takes your by he arm dancing and you laugh with him while Hopper shakes his head. "Come on Murray leave my daughter alone" He has never called you that way before. He must notice too, cause he opens his eyes almost as wide as you do and then, slowly, he smiles sweetly at you.

001 locks you in the attic of the Creel's house, a secret room, a kind of tower hidden under the roof where nobody will ever find you again unless he wants to. There, in the midst of a large dangerous forest in the Upside- down, you will be safe, you are his guarantee, keeping him anchored to this world until the time of destruction comes. Vecna adds protections around the tower. More monsters, bats, vines and do what he has swore, he lets your friends live for now. Max wakes up blind, bones still broken and a long path ahead of her. Eddie ... Vecna lets him go as he promised and what remains of him is an empty shell, a body without a soul, dead, reopening everyone else's wounds. Dustin cries for hours, because in his heart he has hoped that your sacrifice was worth at least Eddie's life and instead it didn't help and he is even more dead than before. Will recovers slowly and for the first time since the day of his disappearance, in that distant 1983, he no longer feels the upside-down stirring in him.

Despite what Vecna does to subjugate you, every now and then a spark of clarity lights up in your mind and in the opacity of your confused eyes, he reads your fear. You don't know why but you know you're in danger and sometimes you instinctively run away. He always takes you back, again inspects your mind and never finds anything new. It's like he's violating every part of you. Eventually he arranges for you to build a wall of vines connected to his mind so that he can hear every attempt to rip them open. It's the perfect prison, an impenetrable tomb. He leaves you in there for fifteen days without talking to you. Something escapes your mind, names on the tip of your tongue you don't know where they come from, distant voices speak to you and they belong to another time. He comes back on the fifteenth day and you still try to resist him.

Another ten days go by. Twenty-five days of total isolation, food and water just enought to make you survive, without knowing who you are, where you come from, what you are like. Why am I here? Eventually one day you stop resisting and Vecna knows he can now create his own weapon. You. All he has to do is wait a little longer, allow his body to recover the lost energy, reborn stronger than before. "Who are you?" You ask one day when he walks into your room. You are no longer afraid of the appearance of him. There is innocence in your voice, something that has little to do with the humans that he despises so much. He thinks about how to answer you, then his gaze falls on your tattoo. 007. "I'm 001" You stare at him. "And who am I?" He grabs your wrist and you let him. "Seven" you read. He has a number too. He's just like you. He's not sure why he has avoided it until now, a real contact with you, but he knows he doesn't want to anymore. "That's a long, sad story." You are sitting on the ground, looking at the dark ceiling and experiencing something new, which replaces fear and confusion: boredom. It grips you, takes you to travel with your mind to the story that One has told you. A bad man took you, used you because you are special and then your sister Eleven betrayed you, she opened a gateway to this world - and you don't know why but you call it the upside-down - and locked you up here, in a world without humans, which is cause of that a perfect place. Humans are bad and Eleven chose them anyway. She chose the bad man and she turned One into a monster. You don't care anyway: he is your brother, he is saving you.

We have to kill humans. They hurt us, they only hurt. Parasites.

The world without them is beautiful, One will show it to you one day, when you regain your strength. You're powerless, he says. He keeps you trapped to keep you safe, it's dangerous. They want to kill you.They want to take what's left of your powers. One promises you that you will train together to recover them and then you will go to the world of men and you will see with your eyes, what you are fighting. Then you will have peace together.

Sometimes One watches you for hours and you never notice, you never turn your head towards him. His plan his working, still there is something about you that has remained secret. Hidden. He understands this when he visits you one night, you are sleeping and when he comes in you don't open your eyes too tired by prigony and by a strange sense of emptiness that sucks you in. You don't eat anymore, you sleep a few hours a night and he knows that he must start making you use your powers slowly, otherwise you will let yourself die. Yet he does not trust you, he must be sure that you will not turn against him. "Are you here to rescue me?" You whisper, clouded minded. He doesn't give you an answer. It's better not to.

"You are here for your own safety," he says simply. "And you will stay here for now"

"I don't want to stay anymore," it comes a desperate plea. "I wanna go home" But you don't even remember what home is. Do you have one? He reaches forward to touch your pale cheek. "This. Is. Home." He's angry. And you're so tired you won't even remember this conversation.

He starts training you the next day, with nastiness and brutality. It's a punishment for what you said, a lesson to put yourself back in your place. "You have to learn to hit, like this" He openes his hand towards you and instantly you are thrown away, you hit the wall and your body protests at the painful impact, immediately like laces those strange vines squeeze your wrists and legs, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze more and more and then let you fall to the ground, stumble down to the floor, surprised by the sudden release. You bite your lip and scrunch your brows, sad and angered by the situation. "Do you understand?" One asks. "What they will do to you is even worse, Eleven will not be as kind as me. She will kill you if you don't kill her first." You get up from the floor and look away. "Are they really this cruel?"

"Oh, Seven. Humans are the worst, you'll learn"

"But why I don't remember anything? I've got this ... Feeling like I'm missing something .. Important?"

"You'll learn. Trust me. I saved you" Yet you don't really feel like he has saved you. At all. After a while you nod, One steps closer and reaches for you cheek wet from tears and you don't even know why you're crying. You keep hearing a voice inside of you telling that something is wrong. "My soldier"

"I will return in two days," One promises as he walks away. "I want you to know how to move these objects when I get back. The next task could ... hurt you otherwise."

*

You find it easy enough to move things, you feel you have strong control over your powers. And so the days go by and moving things around becomes a fight with bat-shaped monsters, then big dogs with a flower head that you slaughter without too much trouble and One hits you often, instigating you to fight with him. This is what they will do to you, he's preparing you for the enemy, sometimes you wonder if this enemy really exists. "Well done, my Seven" he says one day."That's not my name," comes an answer, voice weak. You don't know why you say it, it's not because you think it. The image of an unknown man with light eyes appears in your head, he is tall with a big mustache. Is he the enemy? Yet he looks good, funny.

"What is your name?" The funny man asks. "Seven. But I don't like it, it's not even a name."

"And what name do you like?" You shake your head. "I knew a girl years ago, beautiful and brave, she was called y/n" He says "y/n ... I like it"

"And what is your name?" One asks, intrigued. He took all your memories, there shouldn't be anything left. How is it possible? "I don't know. But I know it's not that." Your mind screams "y/n" but decide it's wiser to keep quiet. You shouldn't have said anything. "Your name is Seven" He states, leaving you. You hug yourself tightly and nod. Everyday, time seems to pass slower. Everyday, existing feels more and more unbearable. You wonder if you're even alive at all. It happens one day, unexpectedly. You don't know how long it's been. One hasn't come to visit you for longer than usual, the last time you managed to hit him, just to move him, but he laughed with satisfaction.

"The time is coming Seven"

You hear a noise, something banging against the wall, muffled voices and you wonder if they are in your head. Then silence. It happens again. There's movement somewhere behind the door, you are scared cause it can't be One and you know it. You've never seen someone other than him as long as you remember, so you take a step back, frightened. There's someone at your door and it's not One, it's a girl, curly short hair, big blue eyes. There's a man, the funny one you saw in -what was that? A memory? -he's different thought, he doesn't have a mustache and his face is hollow and his eyes are darker somehow, and then there is him, a young man in front of everyone, an ax in his hands, his expression shocked. His mouth is open, his eyes veiled with something you don't understand, relief perhaps and amazement. You can't stop looking at him, there is something that chains his gaze to yours, yet you are afraid of him. He confuses you. You feel strange while he looks shocked, only now you notice his worn out clothes, stained with blood, torn in several places and his face covered with dirt, like he has fought for a long time before arriving. Humans.

"y/n" The girl whispers. Y/n. Your name is Seven. You hear One's voice in your mind as you take another step back. "You're in danger, Seven"

"y/n" Repeats the funny man, and he's not funny anymore. "Honey, we're here ... It's okay" he reassures you. You shake your head. "Attack" One orders. You put your hand over your ears as he screams in your head. "Y/n" This time the boy is calling you, his eyes wide open and terrified. He remains motionless in the grip of a presentiment, a visceral terror. Suddenly he is pale, shivering and he looks younger. A little boy. The girl moves towards you, she holds a weapon. "Attack" You remember every time One has pushed you, hit you, hurt you just for this moment to come. Denfed yourself. You reach out and yell at the girl pushing with your powers her small body against the wall. "Nancy!" The boy shouts, running towards her to help her. She has her eyes closed. "I'm fine" she whispers, but her arm has taken a strange angle. You look around, breathing hard like a caged animal and stretch out your hands ready to attack again. The man tries to take a step towards you and you point towards him. "Attack" You don't want to, something in you prevents you from hitting them again and you feel bad looking at the girl in the boy's arms. He looks at you like he just lost someone important and you wonder why, why they seem to care about you. Because they haven't killed you yet, Vecna says. But they haven't even tried. "They will"

You hide in a corner, confused, while other images flow through your mind.

The girl - Nancy- holds out her hand to help you get up. You are on a bed. It is soft. "Nancy I don't know how to thank you." You say, looking at yourself in a mirror - funny, in the present you don't even know what you look like - you wear a dress that is obviously not yours and fits tightly in places. But you are happy. "Don't thank me it's your first ball think about having fun!"

You put a hand over your eyes now, you try to tear them away and you scream afraid. One, he's too is close. You feel it in your veins.

"Go away" You find the courage to look at the man, his clear gaze veiled with worry and pain. "They'll bring Eleven to you. They'll kill you."

"You have to come with us" he replies, reaching out to you. The younger man is now standing behind him, and his eyes are veiled with tears, he's trembling and you feel physically sick under those disappointed look. Steve. A name resonates in your thoughts.

"You're an idiot Harrington "

"Steve! Please don't tickle!"

"Help me Steve!"

"Steve Harrington, I solemnly swear never to steal your candy stash again."

This time you turn to him. "Go away." You repeat, slowly. "He is coming." And you don't even know why, you just feel that it's the right thing, that you want to protect him, that they won't make it with One. The guy suddenly snaps to you, feline, grabs you by the arm hard, almost desperately, then reads the fear in your gaze, the confusion and his touch softens. It's almost like a caress and you think it's nice to be touched by another pair of hands after a long time. Even if they belong to the enemy they can be delicate. "You have to come with us, please" He begs you. There is no more time, One's so close that you can almost feel it in your bones. With a wave of your hand you push them away and somehow manage not to hurt them. They look at you "I'm not letting you!" The young man says, getting up quickly and wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth, eyes tearing up. He's angry. His hands clenched in two fists. "We have been looking for you for so long." He continues as the girl places a hand - the one that doesn't seem broken - on his shoulder and gestures for him to go. "We'll be back, I swear to you." She promises. A heavy presence appears out of nowhere, and you know all hope is lost.

"Go away. Please" The last words come out distorted from your lips. You feel bad. Humans have hurt you and you, you are helping them without even knowing why. They run away, giving you one last glance while you stand still in the center of the room. One is here, in front of you.

[alltheseredroses]

1/8

Steve didn’t know how he did it, but he managed. He helped the kids get out of those tunnels after Billy had beat his face to a pulp. That was all he had to do. It was his one objective: get the kids home. So as soon as everyone was back at the Byers’, his body gave in. The pounding in his head was becoming unbearable, somehow his nose started bleeding again, eyes throbbing in his skull and breathing seemingly not an option. Waves of nausea hit him hard as the room started spinning. Before he knew it his body hit the floor, still covered in drawings, as every last ounce of adrenaline left his body. The kids were safe, Will was okay, and hopper had brought his superpowered kid back safely as well. He had done what he had to. Now all he could do was feel the stabbing pain in his head as hands suddenly came to every side. Sleeping didn’t sound too bad right now.

[adhdsummer]

I have such connection with Steve at the moment through scars of all things.

I got hurt in December and have been going back to the scar clinic over and over again since dealing with "maybe this will help" and "Oh, that still looks angry, try this" and every time I think that I have a small scar but Steve would have to do this for most of his body by this point and, of course people would go to his appointments with his at first, but after a while (just like me) people get to be busy and it become so run of the mill that he just has to drive an hour away to a bigger hospital on his own to be poked and prodded by medical professionals and wonders if they'll ever heal fully, or at least stop hurting at some point.

Anyway, just some thoughts that spring out of obsession and personal experience.

[doeomi]

Steeeve Harrington

Please like him he is my hyperfixation

[this-is-mycrisis]

you can't tell me that this doesn't describe steve harrington

[imfinereallyy]

you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, in the middle of a live-stream: Hey, Stevie. I was thinking about something you said the other day and I’ve got a question

Steve: …Oh-kay?

Eddie: The other day you said that your parents used to make you go to benefit dinners with the mayor, right? Mayor Kline?

Steve: Um, yeah? I think. They were donors. They campaigned for him.

Eddie: Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.

Eddie: So.

Eddie: Your parents helped fund you being drugged and tortured by Russians.

Steve:

Steve, taking all this in: Huh.

Eddie: Huh, indeed.

[lazylittledragon]

psspsps come get your alt dads

[helpimstuckposting]

I love a good fwb steddie fic where one of them thinks they’re dating and one of them thinks it’s just casual but I could also get behind a fwb steddie fic where they both think it’s casual and there’s zero misunderstanding between them but then they realize it’s been like five years, they live together, they have a cat together, they kiss and go out together, and they both just look at each other like????? Wait are we dating???? When did we start dating????? And they’re idiots but they’re in love your honor

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[eds6ngel]

✎ when i kissed the teacher | part five

summary: with summer break starting, it's time for you to pack up your things and leave hawkins elementary. so, will you be able to find a new job? and will you ever reunite with steve, the man that not only started this whole mess, but that you also love?

part one ♡ part two ♡ part three ♡ part four ˚⋆｡˚ full masterlist.

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. use of y/n. swearing. mutual pining. slow burn. a lil bit of hurt. tons of fluff by the end. mentions of food. job interviews!! slight age gap [r is 25, steve is 29]. roommate amy being the best friend we all need. no more warnings as this is the finale!! [3.6k].

Finishing up your last week at Hawkins Elementary was not the easiest. Not only were you met with multiple days of children’s tears, hours spent reassuring them that everything was going to be okay, but the other teachers began to judge you. You would enter the staff room to dirty looks and ignorant comments. But, of course, adults bullying co-workers wasn’t fire-worthy, was it?

You packed your classroom up last Monday, the white walls, once covered in student’s artwork and decorative pieces, now bare. It made you feel melancholic and nostalgic simultaneously. Almost three years ago, you were walking into that first grade classroom for the first time, ready to made your dedicated space feel like home.

And now you were leaving, much earlier than anticipated. This should’ve been your second home for the rest of your life. But, now it was going to belong to someone else. Someone else was gonna fill the walls of student artwork, of decorative pieces, of their own little trinkets to display appropriate parts of their personality. It should’ve been you. It should’ve always been you.

Your permanent record was updated the day of your departure, the job search becoming increasingly difficult by the hour. Teaching positions cropped up everywhere, especially since you lived so close to Indianapolis, a mere twenty minute drive.

Yet, so far, none had even given you an interview offer. Many point blank stated that your record was the issue, the others you could definitely assume by their rejection wording.

The sound of your apartment door opening disrupts you from your job search, and from you continuing to stare into space.

Your roommate Amy arrives home with a paper bag full of groceries in hand, the fruit collection peeking out of the top. “How is your wonderful afternoon going?” she cheerily asks, a smile on her face, placing the groceries onto your kitchen counter.

You huff, placing your head in between your hands, “Shit. I’m not getting anything, Ames. I’m gonna have to resort to becoming a fashion retailer or something. I’m running short on money to split the goddamn bills with you.”

“Well,” she smirks, pursing her lips and creeping up to you, whipping a sheet of paper out from behind her back, “I may have a solution for you.”

You take the sheet of paper from her, inspecting the cover as it reads: TEACHING POSITION AVAILABLE. $30,000 ANNUAL SALARY. SECOND GRADE TEACHER. FULL-TIME. ERNIE PYLE SCHOOL 90.

“Ames, this is such a prestigious school! Aren’t they in, like… the top ten in Indianapolis or something?”

She hums, “Mhm, which is exactly why you should at least put an application in!”

You groan at her optimism, “I have a permanent mark on my record. They’re gonna turn me away the second they see it!”

She heads back to the kitchen, beginning to un-pack the groceries, mumbling out, “Well, you never know.”

And, she wasn’t entirely wrong. Even if it was a one in a million chance, a chance is still a chance.

“Screw it,” you thought, you were gonna put a damn application in. The highly likely rejection was just adding to the list by now, it wasn’t even a sharp sting in your heart like it used to be anymore.

Why not take a chance?

And, my God, was that chance worth taking.

It was a Sunday afternoon, you relaxing on the couch reading your favourite book, when all of a sudden, the landline phone rings.

Amy was currently out on a date with her boyfriend, so you had the house to yourself. You put your bookmark in its place, moving from your comfy position on the couch with a groan, walking over to grab the phone from its stand placed on the wall. “Hello?”

“Hello. Is this Miss. L/N?”

“It is her, yes,” you reply, the voice of an older-sounding man speaking down the phone to you.

“Nice to hear from you, Miss. L/N. I am calling from Ernie Pyle School 90 regarding your application for the second grade.”

Great, another rejection to add to the overgrowing list.

“We do see that there is a strike on your permanent record, but we also do take notice that you have a lot of other qualities we admire here. So, we would like to bring you in for an interview, if that’s all right? That way, we can get a good idea of your character and what the strike really entailed from your perspective. Does that sound good with you?”

You had to knock yourself back into reality as the words are spoken down the line. They were actually offering you a fucking interview.

“Umm… Yeah! Yeah, that sounds amazing, thank you! When would you like me to come in?”

So, two days later, you were dressed up in your smartest attire, walking into the brown-bricked building, the school a lot smaller than you had anticipated.

An older man, who seemingly matched the voice on your landline, greeted you at the entrance, the school empty for the Summer Break.

He directed you to his office, you neatly placing yourself on the chair in front of his desk, sitting appropriately, trying to appear as professional as possible.

“So, I’m sure you’re aware of the interview process from your previous work listed on your CV, so if you wouldn’t mind telling me a little about yourself,” he begins.

You breathe out, smiling at him, “Of course. I grew up in Indiana, more towards the north in a quite rural area. Growing up as a child in the seventies, I really felt under-appreciated as a student, as if I wasn’t valued. So, that’s where my love of teaching started to grow. I wanted to lead the next generation of students in a way that I felt, and many other of my friends at the time felt, would’ve been beneficial.”

“Well, as someone who has been working in schools since the seventies, I can see why you thought that way,” he chuckles. “It seems your generation has been the leader of change. Okay, we all know that students can become a handful at times. So, tell me, how would you deal with a stressful situation?”

“Well, firstly I would find the identifier of the situation by calmly asking the child what happened, as that helps me form a route to solve the issue. At my previous school, I had a student who got pushed into the mud and his favourite t-shirt got ruined, which made him extremely resentful and angry towards a boy. I got him a spare t-shirt to change into and promised I would scrub it out as best as I could during lunch break, which I followed through with. I then brought the two boys together, asking the other boy why he did it and he said that his friend allowed him to do it the previous day, so I taught the lesson of consent and how our feelings towards a situation can change from moment to moment. The boy apologised, the other boy accepted that and rode through his emotions. And by the end of the day, his t-shirt was just like before, mud stain-free. I’ve found that it’s much better for myself to understand the reasons behind something, instead of resorting to a lack of control over my own emotions and lashing out at one or both of them.”

The principal smiles at you, replying, “That’s a wonderful answer, thank you for that. Now, as you brought your previous school up, I do have to ask you about the strike on your permanent record. It says here that you, quote, ‘Broke student confidentiality,’ so I was hoping you could talk me through that situation. We here at Ernie Pyle like to overview a situation before immediately judging, much like yourself with stressful situations. So, please, go ahead,” he directs you.

You breathe out, trying to present your answer in a non-biased viewpoint, “There was a student’s father that I can confirm we both mutually did have feelings for each other. I set my boundaries in place last Christmas as he did try to ask me out, but I told him exactly that: student confidentiality. But, the school’s Easter Brunch rolled around, he helped me tidy up my classroom whilst the kids were on recess, and we kissed.” You purse your lips, having a sinking feeling that this was not going to secure you the job, “I would say he initiated it, but I also leaned in, because as I said, we both did have feelings for each other, so that part of my brain took over. However, I did pull back fairly quickly and asked him to leave promptly. The kiss was caught on the security cameras, and since it happened, I got fired for that reason.”

You bite your lip in nervousness, anticipating the rejection. However, you were presented with a far more mature answer that you were expecting.

The principal presents a thoughtful expression, “Hmm… I see. You said that you stated your boundaries before, yes?”

“I did sir, yes.”

“And that kiss was initiated by the male parent, to which you reciprocated for a short amount of time, before eventually pulling away, removing yourself from the damaging situation?”

“Correct, yes.”

He looks you in the eyes, leaning forward in his seat, “And have you contacted this parent outside of the school hours, whether that be after school, during school breaks or over the weekends?”

You shake your head, “I have not, no. The only time we spoke after school hours was when he aided me in running the school’s Christmas Fayre.”

“I see…” he pauses for a moment, “I’m going to ask you one more question before making my decision, if that’s all right with you,” to which you nod with a smile. “You worked at your previous school for three years, and I’m sure you’re aware that we really value applicants that have that prior experience. So, what skills have you learnt or improved as your time as a teacher of elementary school children?”

You look off to the side, sighing happily at the memories of your previous students. You turn your head to look back up at the principal, your answer coming confidently to your brain, no fears present. “I’ve learnt how to time manage and be organised. I would schedule my day in the morning to have certain worksheets and items stored in accessible places for me to switch over in between recesses and lunch breaks. Also, not all kids learn at the same pace, so I have to factor in extra activities for the children who complete their work a little faster than some of the other students. But, I think the most important thing I learnt was empathy. Children are just smaller, more innocent versions of us adults. I’ve found that many adults believe they must control their children, but I’ve learnt from my experience as a teacher that it’s better to approach every child with warmth, kindness and love. I’ve heard lots of children say that they hate school as young as five years old, and I want to be the one to change that. I want my students to feel safe and loved in my class, and for them to have it be one of their favourite parts of their day.”

He leans back in his chair, sighing out as he takes his glasses off, “I’m just… Wow. I am truly amazed by your answers, Miss. L/N. They are absolutely phenomenal. These are the exact values we like to promote here at Ernie Pyle and you would be a great addition to our team.”

Was he actually kidding? This sounded like an acceptance…

He sits in his chair with his eyebrows furrowed, a thinking look on his face, “However, I do run into this issue of your strike… But, I’m willing to find a way around it. Willing to put in some extra rules.”

You nod, perhaps a little too eagerly, “Anything. I’ll take on any extra rules you require.”

He looks at you once more, “Okay, I’m willing. These are what your rules are gonna be: You cannot speak to any male parent alone in your classroom, whether that be with their child present or not. If they ask you a question whilst dropping off their child, you must direct them to Mrs. Lane, who is going to be your teaching assistant. As well as this, obviously following the previous rules, no parent can aid you in any after school activities, events, or anything of a similar nature. If you need guidance with an event, you must ask another member of staff to aid you. These are the rules I’m offering you, okay?”

“Of course sir, I completely understand.”

“And I’m going to be super strict with this. If I even see you step slightly out of line, I won’t hesitate to add another strike to that record of yours. Do you understand?”

“100% sir. Absolutely,” you respond.

He smiles, raising from his seat, you copying his action as he extends his hand out to you, saying the words you’ve been waiting to hear for a long time: “You’re hired. Welcome to Ernie Pyle.”

You walk into the front door of your apartment, your hair now a disheveled mess from the windy storm forming outside. Amy looks up from her seat on the couch, re-runs of old episodes of Friends playing on the TV mounted on the wall.

She simply snorts, “Jesus. You look like shit.”

You shut the apartment door behind you, replying with a chuckle, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

She stands up, walking over to you where you had dumped your purse onto the small table where the pair of you eat, “So, how did it go?”

You decided to play with your best friend’s emotions, sighing solemnly as you act sad, mumbling out, “Turns out I have to start taking care of kids five days a week again…”

She furrows her eyebrows, before gasping, putting her hand over her mouth in shock, “You got it?”

You smile widely and giggle, “Yeah, I got it.”

She screams a little too loudly, lifting you off the floor in a hug in excitement, squeaking out, “Oh my God, this is amazing! I told you you would get it!”

You part from each other, you playfully rolling your eyes, joking, “Yeah, yeah. You were right again.”

She smirks overdramatically, “Of course I am. When am I ever wrong?”

You chuckle as she jumps up and down, still in shock at your news, “Holy shit, holy shit! You have to call Steve!”

You part from her again, looking at her with a confusion expression as you let out a “What?”

“Steve. You know, the guy you’ve been crushing on for almost a year?” she says with a smile, “You have to call him!”

You sigh out, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Ames, they just put a bunch of extra rules in for me because of that whole situation. I don’t think they’d be very happy if I suddenly start speaking to him.”

Amy groans at you in frustration, “But, Y/N, he’s not your student’s dad anymore. What are they gonna do? Fire you by association? If anything, that’ll make them more at ease as you’ll be taken, so less likely to become flirty with other student’s dads!”

You let out a long breath, thinking over your best friend’s words, before shaking your head, “Nope! Nope! I’m not doing it, Ames!”

She nods eagerly, “Yes you are!” she teases, running back to the living room and grabbing the phonebook from off the bookshelf, before returning to grab your hand, dragging you onto the couch as you plop down. She shoves the phonebook into your lap, pointing at you, “You’re gonna look up his last name and I’m going to watch you pick up that phone, dial his number and call him. Okay?”

You huff, your breath blowing the hairs out of your face as you complain, “Fine! I’ll do it.”

Amy smiles widely, clapping her hands together and shouting, “Yay!”

You open the phonebook, flipping through until you reach the letter ‘H.’ You scan through the names, reaching the correct starting letters. Hare-, Hari-, Harp-, Has—

“Uh.. Ames?” you say, blinking rapidly, her humming at you, “It’s not in here.”

“What do you mean it’s not in there?” she questions, walking over and sitting next to you on the cream-coloured couch.

“His last name is Harrington. Look,” you point to the page, “It says Harps, and then skips on to names beginning ‘Has.’ He’s not fucking in here.”

“You’re not joking with me? You aren’t making up that name to not call him?”

You look her dead in the eyes, “I’m not kidding. He’s not in here.”

“I mean, he must be one of those rare people who really values privacy. Had his name removed or something,” she replies.

You huff, rolling your eyes and slamming the book shut, placing it back on the bookshelf, “I guess the Universe is telling me really not to go through with it, huh?” you direct at your best friend, turning around and storming into your room, closing the door forcefully behind you.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little bit disappointed… Okay, maybe more than a little.

But… maybe not all hope was lost.

You and Amy took turns taking on the weekly adulting tasks, splitting the boring household chores between the two of you.

You had travelled into Indianapolis, grabbing your weekly groceries for the two of you. You were browsing the selection of cheeses, deciding which one would taste the nicest in relation to your budget. However, a tall man was leaning over you, trying to reach an item located above your head. However, once he spoke, you recognised that voice from anywhere

“I’m so sorry, I just need to grab—” The man looks down at you as you look up at him, your eyes connecting in an intense gaze, “Holy shit… Y/N?”

“Steve?” you breathe out, trying to register the fact that the man you thought you would never see again in your life is standing right in front of you. He’s wearing a Wham! t-shirt, light blue jeans, and a denim jacket in a similar shade. And my God does he look gorgeous.

And he thought the same about you as you stood there in your yellow, flowy dress. Perfect for the warm Indiana summer, and perfect for you. It hugged you so well, in all the right places. It made you look breathtaking.

“Um, hi! Hi… How— How are you?” he asks, blinking rapidly as he tries to form a sentence, his body still shocked from not only how beautiful you look, but the chances of you two meeting in the same grocery store out of your towns.

“I’m doing good, how have you been?” you respond, trying to keep the conversation as casual as possible.

“Pretty great, yeah…” He pauses for a moment, staring at the ground, afraid he would blush if he looked at you again, “Alena’s great too, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know…”

You nod, “I’m glad you two are doing good. I know that me leaving and all probably took a great toll on her, and I wanted to say sorry—”

However, he interrupts you, “Wait, you left the school?”

You sigh out, realising that Alena must’ve not shared the news with her dad, most likely too nervous to tell him that it was because of his actions. “Yeah… I got fired. They caught us kissing on the security cameras and you know… student confidentiality, you know all about that shit.”

“Shit…” he breathes out, sinking in the fact that his actions were the reason for your job loss. “I’m sorry. I never should have kissed you. It was completely my fault and I—”

But now, it’s your time to interrupt him. You giggled, “Steve, I promise, it’s okay. Besides…” you look up, smiling, “I may have found a better teaching job that pays more anyway. You kind of saved me in a way.”

He chuckles awkwardly, “Yeah… I suppose I did…”

The two of you laugh together before the air falls into silence again, the sounds of regular shoppers and beeping machines filling the atmosphere.

Steve was the one to speak what seemed to be the thought lingering on both of your minds, “So… Does that mean I can ask you out again?”

You decide to tease him, “Depends what’s in store, Harrington.”

He laughs at your comment, “Well, I was thinking I pick you up, I take you to a fancy restaurant, and then we shoot the shit, see where the night takes us… Not in a sexual way of course! I just mean in general…” He mentally face-palms himself. Why did he have to phrase it like that?

You giggle at his ramblings, “I like the sound of that,” you smile up at him, your heart fluttering all the more faster, “When are you thinking for?”

“Um… Friday night, seven o’clock at your place?” he asks.

And you verbalise the answer that he’s been wanting to hear for almost a year, the two of you finally being allowed to love each other: “It’s a date.”

and that's the end!! i hope you all enjoyed this five part series, i had so much fun writing it!! now... where do we go from here?

so, if you've checked out the masterlist to this series, you may have noticed the 'spinoffs' section. that's because i'm giving you guys leverage over the future of this little au!!

so, what spinoffs would you like to see? steve and r's first date? them officially getting together? first outing as a couple with alena? even future down the line? it's totally up to you, these are merely suggestions!!

i will be opening my asks back up next week for this series only, so i can't wait to see what scenarios you guys come up with!!

as always, thank you for dedicating your time to reading this entire series, it means so much to me!! ♡

taglist: @livsters @bakugouswh0r3 @nix-rose @ihatepeanutss @cats00089 @suitelif3 @clincallyonline17 @crowssixof @starkeylover @eris-rose-86 comment if you wanna be added/removed from the spinoffs taglist!!

[persage]

My Responsibility - S. Harrington

Pt 2. Dead Man

Whump!SteveHarringtonxReader

S4

Summary: After the events of Season 4 Steve has to deal with the consequences of his injuries and only the reader realizes his condition are getting worse.

PART 1 Masterlist

Words: 2.4 k

Tags: whump! angst! romance! Steve Harrington x Bestfriend!Reader. Protective!Steve andJim Hopper being a good dad for the group.

Taglist: @ducky-is-dead-inside @carpediem1219 @lexiecamposv @gloryofroses19

A.N (feel free to skip) : thank, you all for your support on the previous part! I didn't expect it at all. The story will have at least other 2/3 chapters, if you wanna be added to the tag list just ask❤️

He is a dead man walking, Steve Harrington has known it for a long time. Even while you were in the Upside Down trying to find a way out, he already knew he was gonna die soon.

The demobats had just attacked him and you were running away, scared as hell.  All he could think about in those moments were his burning wounds, fire exploding in his veins. He couldn't stop moving, because you would have stopped with him and he couldn't let you. You were his whole world, he needed to keep you safe.  As you were running by his side, turning from time to time to check if he was still with you, he had pictured both of you in his bed lying together in an indissoluble hold. Dreaming was the only way not to collapse. Every step he took made him want to cry out in pain and he felt his wounds contorting on his stomach. Keeping up with Nancy, Robin and Eddie was hard, but you were  beside him making sure he didn't keel over which, honestly, seemed quite likely. The bats screeched again and as he turned Steve saw that they were swarming towards the five of you. 

"Go" He screamed at you "I'll be right behind you ."

"I won't leave you Harrington."You weren't going to let this self - sacrificing man get mauled for your safety.

Steve was already doomed, he has been since those monsters ripped through his flesh, Something had changed in him, he felt the infection growing and expanding, moving in his body like a poison and he was exhausted in a way he never experienced before. He wanted to sleep forever.

I need help.

Steve Harrington had already made his decision when Nancy was taken by Vecna.  When all of you barely came back through the portal in Eddie's trailer, he had decided not to reveal his condition to anyone. Then things evolved quickly and there was no more time to waste. He had to carry on with his mission - a crazy suicidal plan- and he couldn't let go, he couldn't be weak, not when Max was putting herself on the line for the world, not when Vecna was ready to take each of you with ease, not when you were walking in front of him with an axe in your hands and two guns in your belt ready to set that bastard on fire. You were armed, capable, dangerous but that was never enough to stop Steve from worrying about you. He thought back to when you disappeared, during the mall massacre, and for hours he had believed you were dead.

A hole in his chest, a part of him ripped away. The Harrington boy didn't want to feel anything like this ever again. He could relax back in the real world, without Vecna, knowing kids and the rest of his friends were safe. For now he simply had to get to the Creel's house without loosing consciousness or being attacked again.

Watching him as they settle his unconscious and trembling body on the bed is awful. It's like having shards stuck in your throat. Joyce closes the door gently, to grant him some privacy in that tidal wave of people. You haven't even noticed your friends around you: Will, Mike, El, Jonathan, Nancy and a guy you don't know. They are all here. Hopper has to practically detach you from the door of El's room - where Steve has been placed - by force.

"The boy is strong. He'll be fine, don't worry." You take a moment to actually look at the man and feel guilty for not doing it sooner. He is much more thinner than you remember him, his hair has been shaved off and God knows the horrors he must have seen. Everything you know about how he's here is just a few snippets of the conversations you managed to gather while worrying about your best friend. Something about Russians and a labor camp, something scary.

"I'm sorry." You say. You're sorry because you haven't even bothered to hug him, greet to him properly or tell him how sorry you were for his death and that you are happy to see him again. Hop has always helped all of you, he has seen you grow up and you have learned to love him. Jim Hopper is a hero. Somehow he reminds you of Steve and can't help but remeber that time when, right after high school, you advised him to consider a career as a cop if the one a babysitter didn't go well.

"Working with Hopper, God that man would kick my ass." Now you really want Steve to be awake, not only because you know how happy he would be to learn that no, you haven't lost Hop too, that there is hope, but also 'cause you desperately want him to see the way the man cared for him, the way he gently grabbed him, hugged him like a baby and carried him safely into the house.

"I'm happy you're here and ... I don't know how it's possible ... But now I feel safe. With you." You throw yourself at the man in an unexpected hug. Jim stands still for a while before wrapping his arms around you. This is the first time you have hugged each other in many years.

"What happened to Steve?" Nancy asks, concern is clearly visible on her face.

"His injuries were more serious than he led us to believe." You let a hand run through your dirty and sweaty hair. You know it's your impression, you know they don't think so but you feel judged, like they are silently saying. "It's your fault."

"Why didn't he say anything?" It isn't really a question, Nancy Wheeler knows Steve well enough to understand his reasons but Robin answers anyway, letting go of a nervous laught that you recognize right away. It's the same as when she was taken by the Russians, the same as when things are going really really bad and she doesn't know how to react.

"We're talking about that dingus. He might come to us with his head cut off and still say that everything's going to be fine and he's totally safe. And he would ask us if we are okay" You smile because it's true and no one could have said it better.

"I should have known." You let the words slip from your lips.

"Don't be too hard on yourself kid." Hopper comforts you.

"We should have known." You appreciate Nancy taking a piece of your distress, sharing the burden of responsibility with you. It's absurd, because if there's one person you've been dreading lately it's Nancy: brave, beautiful, and more complicit with Steve than you in the last few days. During your mission you couldn't tolerate the way in which those two supported each other, finding a long lost harmony between them, the same one that made you  you suffer deeply when they were still a couple.  She was the first one to dive into Lovers Lake while you had that extra second of hesitation that was enough to make you feel inferior. She was the one who bandaged his wounds, the one who collected his secret dreams before the battle: a family, six kid and a trailer. Steve has mentioned it to you once but the tone in which he talked about it to Nancy was different, it seemed more like an invitation, a way to tell her: do you want to be part of my dream?

But now jealousy doesn't matter, you're just thankful that there are so many people who care about him. When he wakes up, he will finally have to understand that he is loved. You turn to the door, biting your nails until blood comes out. Joyce has told you to wait, to take a moment for yourself to breathe but it is physically impossible. You need him like air

She have looked at you like she wasn't sure you were okay, searching for wounds on you."

You are just like him." Eleven have told you, approaching slowly. " You always put someone else before yourself" You  have hugged her gently, when thing will get better you will ask what happened to her.

"Don't you do the same? With Mike, with Hop, with ... Max"  

"But they know how I feel, they know why I do it. Does he know?"

"I think so. Not the way I want to but he knows it."

Now El's words ring in your ears. Does he know?

"Enough now." You say, rushing to the door, only to be stopped by Hopper's gentle hands. "Y/ L/N. Either you calm down or don't enter."

Robin approaches you, shakes your hand and you immediately feel better 'He doesn't need to see you worried. Now put on a calm expression, you enter first and I'll go in later." Robin Bukley , I think i love you. She is probably giving you the only minutes of solitude you will have with Steve before Dustin arrives with the others, who have gone to get him in the meantime. Once Henderson is here, he will stick to Steve all the time. You just want a moment  to make sure he's better and whatever Joyce is doing is working. You open the door and against your expectation his big, brown, beautifully alive eyes are on you.

"You're awake." He nods weakly. He is still pale, sore and sure has a fever but he is awake and this is enough for you to feel your heart lighter. Your legs move before your mind, you are immediately beside him and squeeze him tightly. "You scared us"

"Sorry". He replies, turning away when you break away from the embrace. Something is bothering him you know, you understand it but you will have time to discuss about it later, now you look at Joyce happily.

"I have cleaned his wounds and gave him something for the fever,  it should subside soon. We'll have to keep an eye on him." You sigh relieved, with a new hope that you don't find in Mrs. Byers's gaze. She seems sad, worried. "What else?" You ask, with a lump in your throat. Joyce lets her gaze slide between you and Steve. "I noticed some ..." She doesn't know how to tell you. "They are like black veins, starting from the wound and spreading along his body." The woman pulls back the bandages that cover the wounds slightly so you can see them: black pumping veins widen along the stomach and chest.

"They weren't there before." You say arching your eyebrows in confusion. He is not surprised and he's avoiding your eyes. You put a hand on his arm as Joyce walks out of the room. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"They only come out sometimes ... When I feel bad." 

"Steve, I didn't ask you this." Your tone is harsh and you don't want to be mad at him, yet you already know what he will tell you. It's scary, honesly. 

"The war isn't over. We don't have time to worry about this." To worry about me.

"But we do have time to let you die, is that what you mean?" You feel the tears sting, but you don't let them fall. "Steve." You beg him, grabbing his face in your hands and forcing him to look at you. You are so  close you can feel his warm breath on your lips. He remains silent, his eyes flow over your face and his look is intense, full of so many untold feelings. He would like to kiss you, he would like to finally let himself go in your arms, he would like to tell you what has been tormenting him for months. He would like to tell you that he loves you and you can take everything he has, everything he is. He's yours. He has always been yours. He hates seeing you sad and concerned because of him. Steve Harrington is a dead man and the last thing he can do for you is walk away, make it easier for you. Silly boy. 

You lean your forehead against his and he moves away with a sorrowing expression. Getting away from you hurts more than any wound or any poison in his body.

 "Everyone saw me, didn't they?" You nod. "We needed help."

"You shouldn't have brought me here. You shouldn't have let them see me like that. Those kids don't need any more trauma" You close your hands in two fists in need to to beat him to the point he will not be able to say certain bullshit. 

 "And don't you think that if...you die it wouldn't be a trauma for them? For Dustin? He has already lost Eddie!"

He doesn't answer.

"Go away, I'm tired."

"What?"

"Go away Y/N I don't want you here." And as he says these words his voice trembles.

"No." You grab his hand.

"Y/N. Go away." He finds the courage to look you as he breaks your heart, his words are cold and there isn't a single emotion on his face. Slowly you let go, get out of bed and with unstable steps you leave the room. You've never hated anyone like you hate him right now, him and his stupid lack of self-care. Also you've never loved anyone like you love him right now, with your throat full of tears and stomach twisted in a grip. There's a muffled sob coming from his room.

"Thanks for leaving me there." Dustin says entering the shelter. He looks angry, nervous but you don't care. "Go to him." That's all you can say before you go out to get some air in the woods. You need to be alone, if you stay there, if you opened your mouth you would scream, cry or beg. And you're too tired even for that.

[starrystevie]

"what are you doing," eddie mumbles in confusion, hair fanned out on steve's pillow, the moonlight streaming in giving him a hazy halo.

there's a hand on the side of his face and it's cupping his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin. it's soft, so soft, too soft. another hand is trapping his against the mattress, fingers trailing over his forearm before tangling into his own and squeezing tight. it's gentle, so gentle, too gentle.

eddie isn't soft, eddie isn't gentle. eddie isn't making love in a full size bed with wallpaper that matches the drapes. he isn't fluttering kisses in time with fluttering heartbeats and the fluttering wings of butterflies trapped in his stomach like the most lovely cage.

eddie is fucking at 2am when there's enough intoxication to make him look like he's worth it. he's rough and wild, quick and easy. a means to a barely wanted end because he's there and willing and with long enough hair to let people imagine he's someone else.

he should be caged instead of the damn butterflies. he bares his teeth and thrashes his limbs just to fight and see what he can get away with. he laughs loud and brash in the face of sweetness just to see anger, just to see hurt.

he has half a mind to think he's a feral animal that's hardly been trained, performing in some fucked up circus that charges two bucks to see him snarl and hurl insults at anyone who passes by. he bites at the hands that try to touch, try to feed, proving to the onlookers that he's only worth the pocket change they pay to see him.

but steve. he's holding his face like he wants to, holding his hand like it's the most important thing in the world. he's pressing kisses along eddie's jaw without any hurry, without any rush, kissing just to kiss. feeling just to feel. he's like a ray of goddamn sunshine even in the darkness that midnight provides, warming eddie from the inside out.

eddie wants to run. he wants to scream. he wants to feel like he's allowed steve's soft and gentle but he's-

"is this not okay?" and now steve's looking at him with all of whatever he's trying to give him lacing into his face, his eyes and spit slick lips sparkling in the moonlight like a shiny new toy. "do you not like it?"

concern and care are different sides of the same steve shaped coin and if eddie looks hard enough, he can see them blurring together in his frustratingly beautiful sparkling eyes and those damn butterflies start to come back.

"no, it's-" he let's out a sigh, relaxing his tight muscles and sinking into the bed, sinking into whatever steve is willing to give him. "just different, is all. good different, i think."

steve smiles and eddie shakily mirrors it back, before he's ducking his head again and slotting their lips together, fingers still holding tight to eddie's, still cupping his face like it's something precious.

eddie's come to terms with the taste of the metal bars of his cage, teeth wearing down as he tries to bite his way to freedom. maybe this time he'll let himself get used to the taste of soft and gentle smiles if it means loving steve.

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

[riality-check]

This is not how Wayne was expecting to come home from work.

He had expected, as usual, that Eddie would be asleep, and he’d be free to watch the 5:00 AM news. He’d have a bowl of cereal for dinner (or was it breakfast at that point?), and then he’d be out like a light while Eddie did whatever it was he did before noon. Usually, that was sleep.

The exact opposite of what Wayne was expecting is happening right now. 

He didn’t even get his keys out of his pocket before Eddie whips the door open. He looks a mess: hair tied back loosely, pajamas off kilter, panic mixed with exhaustion on his face.

“Oh, thank Christ,” he croaks. “Wayne, I need your help. I have no idea what to do.”

Wayne can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Eddie panic like this. He shoulders past him into the trailer and is greeted with the sight of Steve Harrington standing in the middle of his living room.

“What on God’s green earth,” he murmurs. He blinks, then blinks again, but Harrington is still there, in pajamas, the tire iron Eddie still keeps under his bed in his hands. He’s breathing real heavy, and he stares out the window, stock-still.

“The hell happened?” Wayne asks, keeping his voice low.

“I don’t know,” Eddie whispers desperately. “I don’t know what happened, but he got up and grabbed the iron and just stood here-”

“How long?”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

Wayne doesn’t like where this is going. “Has he responded to you at all?”

“No-”

Shit.

“-but I can try again?”

Wayne eyes the white-knuckled grip Harrington has on the tire iron. He’s ready to swing, and Wayne knows he’ll swing hard if given the chance.

No way he’s risking Eddie. No way he’s risking Harrington. Wayne doesn’t know him well, only met him a few times in passing, but he knows he’d never forgive himself if he hurt Eddie.

“No. Don’t try again.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Didn’t ask you to. All I’m saying is don’t go near.”

Eddie is very good at following instructions to the letter and to the letter only, much to Wayne’s fond annoyance. So, he doesn’t go near.

Instead, he says, voice strangely soft, “Stevie, sweetheart.”

Harrington doesn’t respond, but he turns a little in the direction of Eddie’s voice. Wayne takes that as a good sign, even if he can see the tension on his face now.

“Will you come back to sleep? Please?” Wayne hates hearing Eddie’s voice crack the way it is right now.

Harrington faces them a little better, and Wayne sees what he was expecting.

He’s staring through them, not at them. Wherever Harrington is, it sure ain’t here.

“I don’t know how much that’s gonna help, Eddie. He’s having-”

“I know he’s having a flashback, Wayne!” Eddie snaps. “I’m not stupid. It’s usually just not this bad, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Alright,” Wayne says because snapping back won’t help anyone. That and because he’s trying to process the fact that Eddie has had to deal with this before. “Let me try.”

He takes a few steps toward Harrington, keeping his hands up and his movements slow.

“Harrington,” he calls, keeping his tone light. “You’re at Eddie’s place right now. It’s almost five AM on a Friday night.”

Harrington blinks, and it looks like his eyes are coming back into focus.

“You’re safe right now. Eddie’s safe right now.”

Harrington shakes his head and lifts the tire iron a little higher. Christ, his arms must be aching by now. “No. I saw the lights flicker, and I heard a thud outside, and it got cold.”

“Stevie, the gate’s closed,” Eddie pleads. “You saw it happen. Nothing got out. You’re safe.”

Wayne doesn’t know what any of that means, but even though it was supposed to reassure Harrington, he just shakes his head again.

He hears Eddie sigh behind him, and he knows without turning around that he’s trying not to cry.

Guess he’s gotta try something different, then. “You just wake up?”

Harrington blinks, and for a minute, Wayne thinks this won’t get them anywhere. But then he whispers, just loud enough to be heard, “Yeah.”

“Okay. I just got off work.”

Harrington stares at him, confused.

“So, I think I’m a little more awake than you. I’ll take what you’ve got in your hands, and I can stay up.”

Harrington shakes his head. “It’s fine. I stay up most of the time when I’m alone.”

Alone. Wayne knows from experience, both personal and witnessing this shit, that alone is the last thing anyone should be when they’re having a flashback. Harrington says it like it’s the only thing he’s ever known.

He dismisses his questions - why is Harrington having flashbacks, why is he alone - and focuses on getting him to put down the tire iron and go to bed.

“You’re not alone this time,” Wayne says. “You’ve got Eddie here, too, and I think both of you would feel better if you were together.”

Harrington looks over Wayne’s shoulder. Wayne doesn’t turn around, but he can imagine the pleading look on Eddie’s face just fine.

Wayne holds out his hands for the tire iron, and after a minute, or maybe a month, Harrington sets it there. Immediately, he looks lighter and heavier.

Eddie walks up next to Wayne and murmurs, “Come on, sugar.”

Harrington goes to him and just rests his head on his shoulder. Eddie holds him there, just standing in the middle of the living room, sunrise just starting to peek in through the windows.

Thank you, he mouths to Wayne.

Wayne nods, but he’s got a hell of a lot more questions than answers - what the hell brought this on, what exactly is Harrington to Eddie. That can wait for morning, though.

For now, he just hopes Harrington will be okay by then.

No, not Harrington. Steve.

After something like this, Wayne has learned, you start using first names.