eddiesfault

Latest Posts by eddiesfault

some of my fave buddie fics for anon in no particular order! please mind all the ratings, tags, and warnings of these works while browsing:

plot-focused:

about the present series by Amiril

The day of the shooting, Eddie got stuck in a time loop. But that was three months ago. He's completely fine now.

boys, when my baby found me by nondz (pinkjook)

Three months later, things are mostly back to normal.

And then there's an accident.

the city is a jungle and i’m a beast by putanauhere (TRUST ME.)

“There are no wolves in Southern California,” Buck states, another bit of trivia. He just doesn’t know it’s a lie.

The Things All Come and Gone by moodlighting

“I didn’t—it’s not that I couldn’t be alone,” Buck explained, pausing to find the right words. “I just. Wanted to be here.”

I Broke What You Gave Me, But You Kept Giving More by rcdwings

Evan Buckley wakes up without eight years of his memories with some guy named Eddie Diaz on his bedside. Which could mean nothing.

lonely little love dog by littleghost

When the 118 is closed for reconstruction after an earthquake, Buck is a floater for different stations around the city. He tries not to let it get to him. Much.

kerosene by mandolare

He doesn’t— need more of Eddie. This is enough. This is plenty. This is more than anyone else has of him; he can deal with the marrow-deep want that’s begun to choke him every once in a while.

all my little words by youbetsya

Eddie: Did you just send me an email??

Buck: yeah lol

Eddie: Why…

I dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. Just stuff to print when your printer is broken

Buck: did you read it?

Eddie: Not yet

Too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me

Buck: just read it dude 🙄

instructions on not giving up by Wildehack (tyleet)

Eddie gave up in July.

Live and (Don't) Let Die by xylodemon

The guy gets straight to the point, asking, "What do you need?" in a dull, bored voice.

"My best friend is going to die. I want that to… not happen."

"No small feat, bringing back the dead. And it comes at a cost."

It's Eddie. Buck says, "Yes," without a second thought.

good pretender by likeshipsonthesea

“Okay, but what are the rules?”

Ravi stares. “The rules for…?”

“Casual sex.”

Ravi continues to stare. It is 5:39 in the morning.

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) by Talls

In which Eddie keeps secrets and Buck is incredibly normal and rational and even brave about his reaction to this.

here’s my hand, there’s the itch by signetsealed

"I wasn’t kidding when I said I could talk about Chris all night,” Eddie says. His voice is quiet and close in Buck’s ear. “But that’s not why I called.”

been lost for a while by trysetmeonfire

Eddie's wife has been dead for two weeks. There's a firefighter in bed five. These are not necessarily related facts, but Eddie will have a hard time separating them out, later.

Downward Facing Doggy Style by Survivah

Eddie and Buck pick up a new hobby while Chris is in Texas.

slaughterhouse by kithmet

Eddie announces he’s leaving. Buck, naturally, begins a slow descent to madness.

Choosing Joy 'Verse series by ithilien22

In which Eddie mends fences with Chris, starts something new with Buck, and navigates the complex emotions he has around his parents.

 the sweetest apparition by hyruling

Eddie moves to Texas. Buck keeps accidentally telling people Eddie's dead. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

pluperfect by unreckless

Buck is always good for a ride to the airport. He’s good at lots of things, like being a good friend and goodbyes.

beating the horse by doitgently

Eddie is moving to Texas. Buck finally figures out what he wants.

Burn a bridge, learn how to swim series by WatermelonShots (AvocadosUnderTheEaves)

In which there is some unexpected making out, some pining, one third of an existential crisis and a lot of unhelpful advice. Not necessarily in that order.

you drew stars around my scars by ladieslunching

Someone at the 118 doesn't know how to leave Buck's clipboard alone. Buck would be a lot more upset about it if it didn't bag him the love of his life.

Hot Ghost Problems by ebjameston

The ghost would prefer to go by Buck, if Eddie wouldn’t mind.

ripples all the way down by iriswests

This is the tumultuous road to finding out what Buck truly wants, paved by pebbles.

throw a bone, i’m finally home by fleetinghearts

“Oh, Buck,” Eddie says softly, torn between unbearable fondness and an ache that threatens to crack his breastbone.

when everything's on fire by beartowns

Eddie and Chris move in with Buck after a fire. Buck breaks up with his boyfriend, buys a house with Eddie, and realizes he's in love. In precisely that order.

ice cream before dinner by cloudydaisies

The problem is—well.

Actually, backtrack for a sec. There were a few problems.

Eddie’s got a whole lot of them, lately, and maybe that was The Problem.

Something in the Air (Is Giving Me Bad Ideas) by paramountie

After Christopher comes back from Texas, Eddie makes an important decision: he is not going to blow up his life anymore.

crossed the muddy line by Anonymous

Eddie Diaz is from El Paso, Texas; a fact which accounts for both more and less than he ever expected it to.

the tortured poets department by colonoscopys

The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up.

still by brewrosemilk

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing.

somewhere to stand and stay by teaspoon

“What are you doing right now?” Eddie asks. He sounds distracted; Buck can tell immediately that he’s driving.

authentication by v_greyson (greyson)

"Yeah, Eddie picks the guys so I don't make stupid decisions," Buck says, flicking through menus to pick a new racetrack.

The combination of Hen munching peanuts and looking back and forth between them makes Eddie feel like he's a zoo exhibit. Best Friends, captured in the wild, still feral, exhibiting behaviors heretofore unknown to science.

"Well, good luck with - all that," Hen says pointedly to Eddie. She is definitely not talking about the video game.

keeping score by arcanaphora

After getting dumped, Buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. Eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. All's fair in love, war, and trivia.

if i said you could never touch me by marviless*

Eddie pulls back from him with a half-confused, half-concerned furrow in between his eyebrows. “Buck?”

Buck sags against the wall. “Sorry,” he says, wiping the back of his forearm against his forehead in a mixture of frustration and newfound exhaustion. “Sorry.”

Counting Pulses by tinyydancerr*

Eddie Diaz’s life is going great. He’s in therapy, he’s got a great girlfriend, a great kid, his friend is getting married to the woman of his dreams, and his best friend just came out to him.

Now his best friend is dating their new friend.

Things are going great. He promises.

porn-heavy (only a few of these are straight up pwp though):

Feel You Forever by semperama

“Is this…” Eddie meets his eyes again. “Is this new?”

a mess of my creation by Anonymous

They’re in the fucking bunk room. There’s someone snoring in the bed over by the bathroom, a good twenty feet and two beds away, and Buck doesn’t know if it’s Hen or Chimney or Bobby, but they’re in here, they’re asleep, and this is awful, this is so fucking unprofessional and if they get caught they are going straight to HR.

blood in the highs and count the stars by seachanged

“Go on,” Eddie says, nosing into the soft spot under Buck’s jaw.

Buck laughs, a little hysterically. ”You’re not serious.”

look straight ahead if you like it slow by hattalove

“This gets you going, huh?” Eddie grins, propping himself up on his elbows so he can move higher on the bed, reach the pretty pink bow of Buck’s mouth. “Devotion? You being it for me?” He stretches up toward Buck’s ear, whispers: “Monogamy?”

hang me up on your bedroom wall by eddiegettingshot

“You’re going to be a great father someday,” Eddie says eventually, because he’s worse than he used to be and Buck’s reverent eyes make him feel—they just make him feel.

“Eddie, I—”

“You are,” he repeats, firm. “Don’t you think I’d know better than anyone?

buck and eddie's red hot infidelity summer series by cranberrymoons

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not. He’s definitely not.

the moon like a spotlight by dykeries

Three months after Eddie moves to El Paso, Buck comes to visit.

this ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living by glorious_spoon

"You guess," Eddie repeats under his breath, but he sounds amused. He sets the boxes down and kicks the door shut behind him to wind through the chaos of Buck's half packed away kitchen. "You're insane."

love's not a game by thatbuddie (talktothesky)

“So that goal, huh?”

Buck groans, his hands clawing at the sheets beneath him as his toes curl up, the fire that’s been building up inside him for what feels like hours sizzling and uncontrollable in its path through Buck’s body.

i might kiss you on the back of your neck (because it’s christmas time) by sibylsleaves

Five Times Captain Diaz and Recruit Lieutenant Diaz fail to sleep together and one time they do.

would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? by brattybuckley

Evan Buckley is currently on cloud nine. 

Well–

Honey on the Vine by sirencalls

Buck wakes up to an Eddie with stubble for the first time in months and refuses to let a good opportunity to go waste.

lock me down tonight by lecornergirl

Buck tells everyone Eddie talks him into it, but when it comes to Eddie, he’s never needed much convincing.

Mind Blowing Mess by EtoileGarden

"I’d like to have a threesome. I think.” 

“You think?” 

“Yeah,” Taylor eyed him for a moment, and then leaned a little further over the table, her chin in her hand. “Have you ever had one before?”

songs and poems and promises by lesbianrobin

“It’s crazy how different sex is with men,” Buck says, and everyone around him groans.

rodeo queen by okanus

“What’s the saying again? Save a horse…hm, y’know, I don't quite remember the rest of it.” Eddie can’t help the smile curving up the corner of his mouth.

“You’re an asshole,” Buck says, scowling. The tips of his ears are pink.

yes god don't speak by detectivemeer

“You’re staring.”

“What.” Eddie says. “No I’m not.” 

the ruins we rebuild

71k || [COMPLETE]

“Sorry, I don’t know the etiquette for accidentally hooking up with your favorite author’s boyfriend, trashing his life, being hired to work on his house, only to then become starstruck with the realization that he is, in fact, your favorite author.”

[Or: Alex gets hired to work on some wheelchair accessible accommodations for a Brooklyn Brownstone. There's just one issue.]

|| read on ao3 ||

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiemicrofic.

Mordor It Was

Steddie Microfic January Prompt: New || Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 517 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Post-Bat Attack | POV: Eddie | Tags: S4 Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Will Make Sure Of It, And Then Not Go Away. Pre-Steddie

The darkness takes hold faster than Eddie imagined. He didn't think one bite, followed by another, and another, could fuck up his whole world this much. But it has, and now he's faced with the reality that he's gonna die here. On the ground, having run in the wrong direction.

Having failed.

And that's something he's gonna have to live with. Just, not for very long. He can feel his pulse hammering, beating in his chest. His neck. As the blood pulses out of him, spilling onto the filthy ground below.

He wanted to do better, wanted to not run away this time, but he still managed to fuck it up. 

Goddamnit.

He's made peace with it, even if Henderson isn't as accepting of what's coming. Maybe it's the blood loss making Eddie feel serene when he should be fighting, panicking.

It doesn't matter.

Steve Harrington is here, fighting for him. 

Eddie kind of wishes he wouldn't. He's floaty, no longer feeling pain, and anything Steve can possibly do will disturb that, surely.

"Eddie, for fuck's sake," Steve's saying, and Eddie tries to open his eyes.

"Eddie!"

His eyes snap open. Steve is hovering, "Good. That's good. I'm going to pick you up. Don't fucking die."

He's definitely gonna die, but he nods. He'll try his best.

Steve tugs on him, and the pain that sears through him is above and beyond anything he's ever felt. He lets out a hoarse scream.

"I know, I'm sorry," Steve says, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing at all, repeating his previous order: "Don't fucking die."

But Eddie thinks he'll do just that.

When he wakes up, he's in a sterile hospital room. Machines are beeping, whirring, and he thinks this has to be the calm before the storm.

But Steve Harrington's sitting in the chair next to him, looking comfortable, his feet propped up on Eddie's bed, reading a book.

Harrington reads? 

Eddie squints, tries to look closer, to see what he's reading, and realizes it's not a new book. No, it's his own copy of The Return of the King. He recognizes his own paperback's well-worn, dog-eared cover.

"My book," Eddie croaks, and Steve startles so bad, the book goes flying, skittering across the tile floor.

"I'm sorry. Wayne left it. I was bored," he starts, then immediately changes direction, "You're okay, it's okay," already pressing the call button, hammering it with his thumb, as if he's convinced Eddie's gonna drop dead in the next five seconds without help. 

The way the room fills, maybe he will. Steve has backed up against the wall, the book clutched to his chest. 

There's poking, and prodding.

Wayne rushes in, and Steve still stands there.

Finally, the crowd thins. Apparently, he's gonna live.

Steve sits back down.

"So, what's new?" Steve teases, and Eddie laughs. His throat is hoarse, dry. Steve pours water from the pink, plastic pitcher, directing the straw to his mouth. 

Eddie takes the longest, best drink of his life, then says, "Not much. You?"

Steve holds up the book and grins, "Learning about Mordor."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for these challenges, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Worthy of A Celly

By Asexual_Asshat on AO3

The guys all shot-pointed looks at Eddie, Jeff being the first to say “Eddie has a huge crush on this one NHL goalie.”

Eddie felt his face slide into a pleased grin as he nodded. “Steve Harrington. Toronto Maple Leafs.”

The interviewer's eyebrow crooked. “Oh yeah? You a big hockey fan?”

His mouth opened but Gareth beat him to it “No, you don’t understand. He had never watched a full game before this in his whole life. The only things he knows about hockey is what has to do with Steve.”

Words:1,360 Chapters: 2/2 Language: English

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Gareth (Stranger Things), Jeff (Stranger Things), Unnamed Freak (Stranger Things), Freak AKA Grant

Additional Tags: NHL player Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Getting Together, Canadian Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Gay Steve Harrington, First Date, First Kiss, Famous Eddie Munson, Famous Steve Harrington,Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Famous Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things)

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Six

One | Two | Three | Four | Five

This fic was line-jumped! If you'd like to learn more about line jumping, please see this post

Anyway, thank you line-jumper for your patience, I know this was a little late orz but I hope you enjoy it!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

---

“Why do they look so weak?”

“Do you have more of these?”

“Can he really not breathe under water?”

“Does he understand bubble patterns?”

“He’s not the worst swimmer.”

“I could probably break his ribs with one tail swipe.”

“Please don’t break my mate’s ribs.”

Of all the words echoing in the water around him, those last few are the ones Eddie gets stuck on. He perks up as the curious hands of adolescent merfolk poking and prodding at him pause. From the determined expression on Steve’s face as he tugs Eddie closer, he definitely meant to say that.

“Seriously?” Robin asks, curling around Steve’s other side. Her hair floats across Eddie’s vision before settling, and bubbles rise from her fluttering gills. “You’re already mated? How did that even work?”

She glances down as she asks, and Eddie follows her gaze to Steve’s tail. It looks normal to him. His wound has healed, leaving only a faint scar behind. If anything has changed, it’s that the inexplicable splashes of orange across his scales make sense in the water. They glimmer and shine like gold and silver coins in the wavering sunlight that manages to break through the surface. Eddie is hypnotized by them, and it takes a conscious effort for him to look away.

Steve’s flush tells Eddie something important has been alluded to, and he’s starting to get an idea of it. “Robin! Not in front of the guppies!” Steve tells her. She cackles in response, bubbles bursting from her gills as she curls around Steve’s right side and flicks his forehead.

“But we already know about that stuff,” one of the guppies, Lucas, says. A few bubbles rise from his gills, too, and Eddie is starting to wonder if they’re important when Robin and Steve pause to study them. 

Another one, Dustin, nods and places his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. He pushes up to float above him, holding tight so he doesn’t end up floating away. Somehow, this results in Dustin’s tail smacking against his back a few times, but at least it doesn’t hurt. “Yeah,” Dustin says, “You taught us during the last cold tide trip. Remember? Joyce and Hopper got together and started talking about more guppies, so then Erica asked what they meant and you got all red like a lobster as you tried to explain it.”

“Teaching you about reproduction and discussing…recreational enjoyment are very different things,” Steve says, his firm tone undermined by his flustered look. 

Eddie taps Dustin’s hand, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows in a curious expression when Dustin looks down.

“Oh, do you wanna know?” he asks.

“No, he doesn’t,” Steve says at the same time Eddie nods. When Steve glares at him, Eddie grins, salty water rushing into his mouth. He doesn’t mind too much, especially when he points at his throat and Steve’s glare immediately melts into fondness and concern. He leans in, kissing Eddie and pushing more air past his lips. 

“We are just teaching Eddie about reproduction,” El says when Steve pulls back. She pushes under Eddie’s arm, wrapping her tail around his leg to stay in place. With her there, Dustin’s tail is no longer hitting his back, and Eddie hesitates before patting her head. 

Between her, Dustin on his shoulders, Steve holding him close, Robin practically wrapped around Steve, and the rest of the guppies surrounding them, he’s starting to realize how touchy merfolk are. Or maybe this is just Steve and Robin and their guppies. He’ll have to ask later.

“Why are you making such a big deal when it’s boring?” Max asks, huffing as two lone bubbles rise from her gills. “Two merfolk decide to have a kid. One fertilizes the other, they carry the egg for a while and birth it. After that, caretakers watch the egg until it hatches. Simple.”

Yeah. Eddie has so many questions. He can’t ask any of them now, though. All he can do is nod along, forcing his expression to remain serious as he listens. Max seems to like the attention, her gills fluttering again and letting a stream of bubbles rise to the surface as she perks up.

“Man, it sounds boring when you say it like that,” Mike tells her, grinning as he turns to look at Eddie. “So, anyway, dicks an--”

Robin laughs as she smacks her hand across Mike’s mouth, using her other hand to ruffle his hair until it’s floating wildly in the water. “All right, all right, let’s stop before dingus goes belly-up,” she says, pinching Mike’s cheek when she pulls his hand away.

He huffs and sticks his tongue out at her. “Eddie asked,” he says.

“Eddie didn’t ask anything. He can’t talk, and he doesn’t make bubbles,” El says.

“No, like, he used his face.”

“Oh.”

As they talk, Eddie tugs on Steve’s hand, pointing to his throat again. Instead of immediately kissing him, he glances up at the surface with a frown. It’s not like Eddie was actually running out of air, so he doesn’t tug on Steve’s hand again. “How about we go up,” he says, looking at Robin. When she just looks confused, he adds, “You could see Eddie’s ship.”

“Really?!” Dustin and Will ask, both of them looking at Eddie hopefully.

Eddie considers for a moment, figures the guppies can be entertained by his crew if they get too bored, and nods once.

“Yes!”

----------

“They have so much energy,” Eddie says, carefully setting Steve on the bed before collapsing into it next to him. He rubs his fingers together, feeling how wrinkly they are after spending most of the day in the ocean. They still haven’t smoothed out despite being on the ship for an hour already.

Steve hums softly, reaching over and taking Eddie’s hand. He laces their fingers together, rests their hands on his stomach, and says, “They liked you.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell between Mike trying to drown me and Erica trying to bite me,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s hand.

The drowning attempt had happened when they surfaced. Mike had grabbed Eddie’s ankles and yanked him back under, grinning as Eddie yelped and swallowed half the ocean in the process. Somehow, Steve had managed to both kiss Eddie some air and smack Mike upside the head with his tail.

The biting had happened while trying to get all the guppies onto the ship. It involved nets and ropes and straining muscles, but they’d managed. When Eddie was getting Erica untied from the ropes, she’d leaned over and snapped at his shoulder. Robin saved him in time by yanking her back, refusing to hear her excuse about Eddie smelling like “really fresh krill” and her being hungry.

Things had been chaotic between getting the guppies and Robin settled, figuring out food, and keeping them entertained so they wouldn’t destroy the ship out of boredom. Eddie had never been so relieved as when they’d started nodding off in a giant tub they secured to the mast.

“They were just…testing you. A little. It’s normal when caretakers introduce a mate,” Steve tells him.

“What, are they making sure I’m sturdy?”

“More that you can handle them if you join the pod,” Steve explains. “Caretakers don’t leave their pods. If they mate with a merperson from another pod, that merperson just joins it. Guppies are overprotective and want to make sure mates deserve their caretakers.”

“That’s kinda sweet,” Eddie says.

Steve nods in agreement, shifting around some until he can turn to face Eddie. The bottom of his tail curls around Eddie’s leg, a heavy weight that he finds reassuring. “How do you feel?” he asks.

Eddie can hear the questions lying beneath. Did he like the guppies? Did they manage to scare him away? Is he going to end their courtship?

“They’re cool. I like them,” Eddie says, the words spilling out so he can reassure Steve. He feels something light and happy bubble in his chest at Steve’s smile. “I am wondering about something, though.”

“What?”

“How, uh, how does all of that…work?” Eddie asks, his face burning as he gestures to Steve’s tail, focusing on the general area Robin had looked at before. Despite the embarrassment of asking, he can’t help the heat that simmers through him at Steve’s knowing smile.

“Are you interested in theory or practice?” Steve asks.

“Practice. I am so, so, so interested in practice,” Eddie says, throwing an arm around Steve’s waist and tugging him closer. “But I wouldn’t mind a little theory so I know what I’m doing.”

Steve laughs, pushing against Eddie’s chest lightly. When he lets go, Steve sits up, gesturing for Eddie to sit behind him. Once they’re settled, Steve is nestled between Eddie’s legs and Eddie is resting his chin on Steve’s shoulders. “There’s a slit,” Steve says, taking Eddie’s hand and placing his palm on a patch of scales just below his waist. “When a merperson is aroused, it opens to provide access.”

Eddie swallows, nodding as he feels the cool slide of Steve’s scales under his palm. He glances at Steve and moves his hand, brushing his fingers over the area until he can feel where the slit is. It’s a slightly raised line, barely noticeable if he weren’t looking for it.

“And, uh, how does it work? For two mermen, I mean,” Eddie says.

He feels more than hears Steve hum, the vibrations pulsing through him from where Steve is resting against his chest. “Well, it doesn’t matter much,” Steve says, reaching up to tug on a loose strand of Eddie’s hair. “You humans have a word for it, I think, but all merfolk have the ability to carry or fertilize. It really just depends.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, biting the inside of his cheek as he presses his palm flat against Steve’s scales again. “So, which…I mean, what do you…you know, prefer?”

Steve thinks for a moment, twirling Eddie’s hair around his finger. “Anything that feels good,” he finally says, tilting his head back to grin at Eddie. “How about finding out what does?”

Not for the first time, Eddie thinks, perhaps, the merman in his arms will be the death of him. It’s a good thing he doesn’t mind one bit.

------

Tag List! (tags are full, please follow #high seas steddie)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar,

@beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep,

@weekend-dreamer7, @whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki,

@mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg,

@littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle,

@desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona,

@sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed,

@xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma,

@m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

● AO3 ● My fics ● My art ● Rambling ● Asks ● Previews & Snippets ● Kofi ● Fic Recs ●

Hi, I'm Ster. My creativity only sees the light of moon. Noob writer (8 months and counting), coming out of my 10-year art hiatus. ADHD-fueled madness.

🔞MDNI🔞

Links to pairing I write for:

Steddie (Stranger Things) | Harringrove (Stranger Things)

The Graveyard Shift Steddie | Rated E | 17.1K words | Ongoing | Tags: Vampire!Eddie, Hotel clerck!Steve, Horror | AO3 Local rockstar Eddie Munson — enigmatic, mysterious, never photographed in daylight — stays at the Indianapolis Sweetwater Hotel during a gig. Steve Harrington is just a simple guy trying to earn a living working the graveyard shift at a hotel desk.  ● Tag ● Sneak Preview ● Part 1 ●

There's a gap where we meet Harringrove| Rated E | 29.1K words | Ongoing | Tags: Fighting, Violence, Fuckbuddies. Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort | AO3 Billy and Steve start a fight club that turns into something more. ● Tag ●

Ask me about my WIPs and I'll post snippets!

📗Eddie Munson Big Bang - TBA [16K]

🩸The Graveyard Shift - Chapter 5 [ 1.1k]

❓Secret project with @sleepy-steve - Canon divergence Steddie [8.2k]

👊There's a gap where we meet - ch5 [complete-editing]

If you're gonna mess me up, don't do it slow | Steddie | Rated M | 3.3K words | Completed Steve POV - Fake dating - Friends to lovers - Sharing a bed - Fluff and humor Eddie and Robin are 'Bearding' and Steve has no idea what that means. The result: a jealous Steve and a healthy dose of kissing your gay friend. ● AO3 ●

Proximity | Steddie | Rated E | 52K words | Completed Eddie POV - Slow burn - Mutual Pining - Sharing a bed - Fluff and angst Eddie enjoys invading people’s personal space, just to mess with them. Steve's complete disregard for boundaries makes him the ultimate challenge. ● Part 1 ● AO3 ●

Drumstick | Steddie | Rated E | 2.8k words | Complete Steve POV - Fluff & smut & humor Eddie is bad at dirty talk and gets a little offended when Steve points it out.. ● Tumblr ● AO3 ●

Encore | Steddie | Rated M | 8.3k words | Complete Steve POV - Bisexual Awakening - Fluff Steve runs an errand for Dustin and has a bisexual awakening at the hands of Eddie Munson. ● Tumblr ● AO3 ●

Grass | Steddie | Rated E | 3K words | Complete Steve POV - Drugs made them do it - Shotgunning When Steve doesn’t go to college, he can stay at his parents’ house under one condition: every week he has to mow the lawn. Eddie has some tips when it comes to grass. And by grass, he means weed, of course. [AO3]

(Un)broken | Harringrove | Rated E | 7.0K words | Complete Billy POV - canon-compliant - Hurt no comfort A canon-compliant study of Billy's obsession with Steve (and some smut). ● AO3 ●

Gravitational | Steddie | Rated M | 1.5K words | Complete Eddie POV - Vampire!Eddie - Bloodsucking - Horror Eddie arrives at Steve's doorstep, drenched in blood, after having been presumed dead for a considerable time. ● Tumblr ● AO3 ●

Ficlets

Steddie Angsty August [2024]

Eddie Munson Big Bang [2024-2025]

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Last updated: 28th of November, 2024

haven't got a penny, haven't got a dime || rated t || 1.3k words

[read on ao3]

for the one and only, my dearest @judasofsuburbia <33 i simply could not resist writing a little cowboy wild west something for your birthday!! hope you like it!! shoutout to lou @cheatghost for beta reading fic and title inspired by a bank robber's nursery rhyme by goodnight, texas

"I need to make a withdrawal from my father's safety deposit box," Steve says, sliding a crisp sheet of paper across the polished counter to the teller.

The man eyes him over a pair of reading glasses, skimming over the paper, lingering on his dusty boots and jacket. "I'll have to get the bank manager…"

"Please do," Steve waves him off and leans an elbow on the counter.

He watches out of the corner of his eye as the two converse in hushed tones, throwing pointed looks his way. But the only thing they'll find on that sheet are the account numbers and precise signature of one Richard Harrington, detailing exactly what should be given into the trustworthy care of his son.

or: steve walks into a bank...

[keep reading on ao3]

“Steve Harrington, right?” asks a voice from behind, startling him into standing again. Steve looks back to find a figure leaning against the brick wall next to the doors he just came through. The stranger is shrouded in darkness, standing under the awning, but Steve can spot the cherry red of his lit cigarette as he takes a drag. This interloper leans forward to stand fully, and saunters over to Steve.

“Oh,” Steve gasps quietly. This isn’t a stranger at all. Or, rather, maybe it is, since they’ve never really met before, but– “you’re Eddie Munson.”

Eddie Munson, standing before him in all his rockstar glory, smirks. His mane of dark curly hair cascades over his shoulders down to the middle of his back, the front of it held back into a messy bun, making him look disheveled, and showing off the many studs and rings dotting his ears. He looks a little mean, a little dangerous, his pale skin in stark contrast with the rest of him, faint freckles dotting the bridge of his large nose, a rosy blush dusting his cheeks, probably from having stood in the sun throughout the day. He’s mesmerizing to look at, and Steve feels a little starstruck in the presence of an actual rock legend, even though they’re the same age.

With a be-ringed hand, Eddie offers Steve a pack of cigarettes. “You look like you could use one, dude,” he says, his voice gravelly and a little sharp, not quite deep. Steve looks between Eddie’s huge, bottomless, dark brown eyes and the box in his hand, and feels tempted. He thinks about the vape in his trouser pocket, how unsatisfying it is to drag from it, the vapor of it coating the inside of his mouth with that rancid fake melon taste that makes him want to vomit sometimes. He misses actual smoke in his lungs, the burn of it coming through his nostrils, the warmth of it against his lips. He accepts the packet and looks at it.

“Gitanes?” Steve asks, one raised eyebrow. Eddie shrugs with a chuckle.

“Came here straight from Paris this morning,” he says by way of explanation. “And anyway, I’m not too fussy about it, as long as they’re not Marlboros.”

Steve snorts, picking up a cigarette and handing over the pack. Eddie then proffers a Zippo from his pocket, and flicks it, letting Steve lean in to light up his smoke. He does so, instantly intoxicated by the mixture of the scent coming off Eddie, something woodsy and musky, a little sweet and sharp, and the feel of that burn going into his throat for the first time. He nearly moans with the pleasure of it, but just about manages to keep it in for his modesty’s sake.

“You were right,” he says. “I needed that.”

Eddie laughs at that, a surprising snort giggle that’s a little high-pitched and a lot endearing. Steve feels like he’s having an out-of-body experience.

They stand in silence for a while, smoking together. Eddie is looking around them, taking in the views from the canal behind the Palazzo. Steve is looking at Eddie, taking in the striking figure he makes, the boldness of his clothes and the way he presents himself. He’s wearing what looks like a tuxedo jacket, because it’s short at the waist and tapers in, but this one is also beaded with some intricate designs and there’s some lace as well, which almost matches the tattoos that decorate the line of his chest. Which Steve can see because Eddie is bare-chested under the jacket, just two long silver chains as decoration, one of which has a skull pendant. His chest under the dark tattoos is as pale as the rest of him, hairless and firm. He seems skinny but in a lithe way, sinewy and slight, and his tiny waist is accentuated by the high-waisted trousers he’s paired the jacket with. They’re black and slim-cut, hugging his slim hips and his strong calves, ending just where his boots begin.

Eddie Munson is undeniably cool, and Steve feels underdressed next to him in his impossibly expensive Fear of God suit and Tom Ford sneakers.

“I hate these things, man,” Eddie says, breaking their silence. Steve looks back up into his eyes, startled out of staring at the little bat tattooed on one of his knuckles.

“Film festivals?” Steve asks.

“Yeah… well, I mean, this is my first film festival, so I mean more like this whole charade, you know?”

Steve nods. He definitely knows. “Yeah. It’s the worst part of the job, for sure.”

Eddie looks over at him, taking Steve in as he stares back, feeling trapped even with all the free space around them.

“So, hm,” Steve begins, nervously puffing out the last of his cigarette, putting it out under his stupid Tom Ford sneakers that pinch at the heel and are not as comfortable as his Stan Smiths, thank you very much, Robin. “This is your first festival? Were you in one of the movies, or?”

Before Steve even finishes his question, Eddie is laughing. His hair bouncing around his head as he shakes with giggles. It’s kind of adorable how his eyes sparkle with mirth.

“Seriously?” he asks, wiping the corner of one eye with a ringed finger. “Dude, I literally scored your movie.”

Deeply embarrassed, Steve feels his entire face heat up. He never watches his own films, so he doesn’t really know much about the finished product, though he admires and respects everyone that comes together to work in the pictures. It’s just– he hates watching himself on screen. It’s why he prefers theater, sometimes, honestly. But now, being met with evidence of his neglect, Steve feels shame.

But honestly, Steve didn’t even know Eddie composed scores. He knows Joyce likes to work with the same composer, this guy Murray Bauman who’s an absolute menace but churns out some beautiful music, so under the embarrassment, there’s surprise at this turn of events, that this incredibly famous rockstar is here in Venice to help promote a film he scored.

“Oh, no, I’m so–”

Eddie waves a hand. “Don’t worry, man, it’s cool. It’s my first score, and I’ve been trying to keep it on the down low, you know?”

Steve nods. “I can’t believe I didn’t know, though! My friend Robin loves your music, she would’ve lost her shit. I mean, maybe she did, I kinda ran away before the screening started. Hate watching films here,” he says with a shudder, making Eddie laugh.

“I get it. I’ve just got in this morning and I’m already overwhelmed. Too many suits for my taste.”

“Execs?” Steve offers, and Eddie nods in response, making a disgusted face as he stubs out his cigarette on the ground under his Docs.

“Turns out film execs are just as bad as the music guys. Maybe worse, who knows. Anyway, I’m probably gonna bail, actually.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, disappointed. It’s strange, this feeling of not wanting this moment to end. He feels suspended in time, like he’s in a snow globe, and the air around them is standing still, words floating away with the early evening breeze.

“You staying?”

“Oh, hm. Yeah, probably. Everyone’s staying at my hotel, so if I want to avoid the paparazzi, I should stay until later,” Steve says, further disappointed at what awaits him. He just wants to lie down, maybe take a bath. He can’t stand here all night talking to Eddie, looking at Eddie, as much as he wants to. Tomorrow afternoon, he’ll be heading back to New York to start rehearsals for a play, and just the thought of his schedule for the next week is making the panic rise within him again, the same panic that had him flying through the kitchen and out into this dock with Eddie Munson.

Eddie, who’s looking at him with a glint in his eyes, and Steve can see wheels turning under all that hair.

The door to the kitchen opens again, and one of the cooks comes out, heading to a dark corner for their own smoke break. The interruption breaks the heavy tension in the air, though Eddie is still staring at Steve, a contemplative look in his eyes. Then turns and walks back towards the building.

Steve follows him, through the kitchens and into the main building, where the sudden loudness hits him like a sack of bricks, and he needs to brace himself so he doesn’t topple over from the overstimulation of noise. It’s all a bit too much, and maybe the paparazzi in front of his hotel are an okay price to pay for the pleasure of leaving this nightmare of a situation.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asks. Steve turns to face him, squinting against the headache forming in the middle of his forehead. “How do you feel about a nightcap?”

“A nightcap?”

“At my hotel,” he elaborates, more demure than before, when they were outside. Out there, Eddie was bold and bright, but now they’ve reached this large room filled with nonsense and pretentiousness, all that brightness has dimmed a bit, which is heartbreaking to witness. “I gotta head out before lunch tomorrow, so my hotel is close to the train station, all the way across town.”

Steve considers it. Leaving this terrible party early, getting to spend more time with Eddie Munson, maybe bunking with him if it gets too late. He can order a car to collect him in the morning, and his flight back is not until late afternoon anyway. There’s a stirring in his gut that Steve hasn’t felt before, it’s sharp and red hot, and addictive like the smoke in his lungs, and it sharpens when he looks at Eddie, with those wild eyes and big hair and sharp collar bones jutting from under the delicate lace of his jacket. Munson talks of freedom, and Steve doesn’t even hesitate before nodding furiously, his heart racing with the excitement of it.

Munson grins. “Meet me by the side exit in fifteen?”

“Yeah, yes. Fifteen.” Steve nods again, and watches as Eddie marches away, no doubt to put their dastardly escape plans into motion. A warmth settles in Steve’s chest as he watches Eddie walk away, but he’s got no time to spare, so he forces himself to snap out of it and find Robin.

[read j'adore venise here]

by Aureiya

Eddie Munson can’t help being curious about Steve Harrington, especially once he sees what the man keeps in his trunk

Words: 5410, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Robin Buckley, Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things), Nancy Wheeler, Will Byers, Eleven | Jane Hopper

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Mystery, Steve Harrington’s Nail Bat, Getting Together, Recreational Drug Use, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Secrets, Government NDAs, Pining, Steddie Week 2024 (Stranger Things), Labyrinth (1986) References, First Kiss, Pre-Season/Series 04, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, POV Eddie Munson

Read on Ao3

hey y'all here's yet another "i'll probably never finish this" snippet — this one's considerably longer (near 3k words!) so maybe it's okay <3

post-vecna, fwb, idiot4idiot, you know how it is. trans eddie but it’s not really relevant to this piece lol

18+ for sexual themes and also one usage of the f slur

——————————

Eddie knows he's acting weird—or, weirder than usual—but he can't muster up the energy to care.

He's not really talking, sitting off to the side and kind of just listening in. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hang out with anyone, or whatever—it’s that he doesn’t think he can handle hanging out with Steve.

He's successfully avoided Steve all night and he plans on keeping it that way. That is, of course, until Robin, tipsy and warm and happy from the beers she's been crushing all night, gets up and pulls Steve over to the swing chair with them.

Eddie considers fleeing while she’s not sitting on his knee forcing him to stay there, but he’s not quick enough. She flops back down and brings Steve with her, giggling as he stumbles and bitches and complains about it, making the chair swing back and forth and jostle them all together in a way that would normally have Eddie laughing with her.

Instead, all he can do is stare beyond Nancy’s head, rolling his beer between his hands distractedly and wishing the alcohol would hit him even half as hard as it’s hitting Robin. Maybe then he wouldn’t want to fucking bash his head into the wall right now.

He can see Nancy giving him a weird, curious stare, and look, he likes Nancy, really. She’s cool and badass and he’s kind of scared of her, which is awesome. But he’s not about to talk to Steve’s ex about this fucked up friends-with-benefits to maybe-not-even-friends-anymore-and-definitely-without-benefits trainwreck he’s gotten himself into.

Robin sandwiches herself in between them, a sharp elbow digging uncomfortably into Eddie's ribs. Eddie is being absolutely assaulted by Steve's cologne and presence and warmth and he's not okay. His heart feels like it's going to explode and he wants to leave so fucking bad.

Robin starts rambling about graduation and college to Nancy. Eddie tunes out quick, because Steve's arm is flung over the back of the chair and he's rubbing these distracting little circles on Eddie's shoulder, through his shirt. He can feel Steve's eyes burning holes into the side of his face, over Robin's head.

Steve's touch is distracting normally, but even more so now because it's been almost three weeks since Eddie has seen him, and even longer since he's touched him. The last time they were this close, he'd had Steve climbing into his lap, panting and grinding on him and kissing him like he was trying to steal the air out of his lungs. Whispering Eddie’s name like a prayer between breathy little whines as if it fucking meant something.

The painful throbbing in his chest is nearly as bad as the uncomfortable ache between his legs, and he almost forgets that he's trying to distance himself when he feels Steve shift closer. Robin's leaning forward to talk to Nancy, and that leaves plenty of room behind her for Steve's hand to move, to curl into the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck. Plenty of room for Steve to lean into his space and god, Eddie is having a really hard time keeping a grip on his self-control because all he wants to do right now is pull Steve into the bathroom and fucking get on his knees and make it so that he's the only one Steve will ever want.

“Been a while,” Steve says conversationally. Casually. Eddie wants to fucking kick him.

“Uh-huh,” he replies, not willing to give Steve more than that. It earns him a huff, and Eddie doesn’t have to look to see that Steve’s rolling his eyes at him.

His voice is quiet and trickles down Eddie's spine when he says, "You've been avoiding me."

Eddie can't think of a good response, his voice sticking in his throat, his brain full of static. He finally swallows and vaguely says, "You think so?"

Steve's hand squeezes the back of his neck and every single nerve in Eddie's body lights up. Robin is right there. Like, she's half-sitting on Eddie's thigh. This is—its a really bad fucking time for Steve to be touching him.

"Why?" Steve asks him. He sounds hurt, but also a bit angry, and that shouldn't turn Eddie on but it really, really does.

He likes that Steve's hurting. No, really, he does. Because at least it's not just him. (He's never claimed to be a nice fucking person, okay? He knows he's a bit of a selfish asshole, and he's fine with that.)

He's not having this conversation while Robin is sitting on top of both of them, so he jerks away from Steve and gets up, not paying any attention to Robin's indignant shout as he storms into her house. He's been here enough times that he knows the way to the bathroom even with all the lights off, but he doesn't have the chance to shut the door before there's a foot blocking it.

Steve pushes in, looking pissed, and so, so hot. Eddie's knees feel like jelly and his stomach squirms like he's going to be sick. Emotional confrontation is like, the actual fucking worst, and there's Steve, angry and hurt and crowding him against the counter in Robin's bathroom, looking him dead in the eyes.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

His hands are on either side of Eddie's hips and their faces are so close Eddie could count his eyelashes if he tried hard enough. His cheeks are burning, his voice stuck in his throat, and he's annoyed because Steve knows that being pinned like this gets Eddie hot, and that's not fucking fair.

"I'm not," Eddie lies through his teeth. "I've just been busy—"

Steve snorts, cutting him off with a mean laugh. "Yeah, real busy, I bet. Must be hard work pretending I don't fucking exist."

Eddie is like, five seconds away from either punching Steve or kissing him. He hates that this is doing something for him right now, hates how hot Steve is when he's mad.

"Get off of me," he snaps, but it doesn't sound convincing. Steve's gaze drops to his mouth, just for a second, before it flicks back up.

"Did I do something?" he asks desperately, looks at Eddie with those big, dark eyes. Eddie presses his lips together firmly, biting the insides of them, because if Steve keeps looking at him like that Eddie's gonna let him bend him over this goddamn countertop. Steve seems to take his silence as confirmation, and makes a quiet, sad sound.

"You can tell me, Eddie," he says, a bit softer, like some of the anger has evaporated out of him. "I miss you."

That hurts.

Eddie wants to throw up. "Don't say that to me."

Steve frowns. "Why not? What, I can't miss you? Can't wonder what the fuck I did to piss you off so bad that you won't even look at me?" He backs off, a bit, enough for Eddie to breathe, crossing his arms tight across his chest. "One day you're shoving my dick down your throat and the next you're acting like you hate me. Kinda makes a guy wonder what happened."

"I don't—hate you," Eddie manages, nearly choking on his words because he doesn't want to say them, but the sad, hurt eyes Steve's giving him pull them from out of his chest. "I'm not even—I'm not even fucking mad at you, Steve. I'm not—this is so stupid." He rubs a hand over his face. “I just… I can't keep doing this shit. This—whatever it is.” He gestures vaguely between them. “Hooking up. Whatever."

Steve's shoulders slump forward. He moves back, until they're not touching at all and there's a few feet between them. He sounds exasperated and frustrated when he says, "Okay, so don't! You could've just told me you didn't want to fuck around anymore. I’m not gonna be mad or something. Jesus, Eddie, you can like, talk to me. I give a shit about being friends more than, like, getting some ass or whatever.”

Steve's not getting it, which is maybe for the best, but the distance between them makes Eddie want to pull his hair out. "No, I mean—" He can't help but reach out, tugging Steve a little closer by the loop of his jeans, which makes him flush so pretty. “I don't wanna stop."

"So...don't?" Steve says slowly, warily. One warm hand wraps around Eddie's arm, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed. "We can keep... I dunno, doing whatever. Whatever you want. Even just… hanging out. Or watching a movie, or—uh, yeah, whatever.” He swallows, glances down at Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s sure he knows just what Steve’s thinking about.

He can't help but laugh, because he's sure that what he really wants is not within the realm of what Steve is okay with. Sex is fun, but—god, Eddie wants to be allowed to love him. He’s already opened himself up more to Steve than anyone else. Steve already knows things about him that nobody else does, except his uncle. It’d been so easy to fall in love with him.

"That's the thing. I don't think we're on the same page."

Steve looks so confused that it would be funny if Eddie wasn’t on the verge of spilling his guts, of throwing up his heart all over Steve right now.

“I need you to elaborate, man,” Steve says. “‘Cause you’re giving some crazy mixed signals right now.”

“I don’t want to just keep hooking up with you. I know this all started just as fun and it is fun, but it’s driving me crazy,” Eddie lets out a frantic little laugh, feels like he’s going to start hyperventilating, but he’s started now and can’t stop, “I’m so into you it’s insane, Steve. Like, I like you. So fucking much. So much it makes me want to rip my hair out or something. I can’t keep doing this knowing it doesn’t mean the same thing to you and I can’t keep pretending that the thought of you with someone else doesn’t make me want to die. Okay? I can’t. It—it hurts and it fucking sucks and I can't do it anymore.”

His voice is shaking by the end of it, and he knows by the burning feeling in his eyes and nose that he’s about to start crying. Because this is it—this is what he’s been dreading, all this time: the moment that the other shoe drops, the moment that Steve rejects him. He’s a nice guy, he’ll do it kindly, let Eddie down gently, but that’ll hurt more. Eddie needs Steve to like, punch him in the face and call him a fag, or something. He can’t handle a sweet, gentle, let’s stay friends forever, it’ll all be okay rejection.

Instead of the bright snap of pain he’s hoping for, he feels Steve’s hands slide up the sides of his neck, almost like he does when Eddie’s down on his knees for him. It’s much softer, now, Steve’s thumbs stroking just under his eyes to wipe away the tears that he can’t stop from falling.

It’s too much. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut tight, shaking his head in frantic, jerky movements as his tears just keep coming. He wants to yell at Steve, to tell him to leave and let him lick his wounds in fucking peace, but he can’t make the words come out. All he can do is suck in another sticky, wet breath.

It tears out of his chest as a sob and Steve swears under his breath.

“Hey,” he breathes. He moves Eddie’s hair out of his face gently, tucking it behind his ears. Any traces of anger are gone from his voice now, and it’s soft, quiet, like he's talking to a frightened animal. “Eddie, hey. Shit, I’m sorry. Can you look at me?” 

Eddie doesn’t want to, but he’s never been good at saying no to Steve. He forces his eyes open, blinking away the tears that blur Steve’s pretty face. 

“If you’re gonna reject me just do it,” he says miserably. His voice feels thick as it comes up his throat. “I can take it, man.” 

Actually, he’s pretty sure he’ll collapse to the ground sobbing and maybe even dry heave or throw up the second he’s alone, but Steve doesn’t have to know that. 

“I’m not—”  Steve huffs out a breath, something like a laugh, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Eddie, I’m not rejecting you. I’m—I’m just kind of in shock.” 

Eddie stares at Steve with watery eyes. “In shock?” he bites out. “Yeah, dude, that kinda happens when your friend confesses he has big disgusting gay feelings for you.” 

“No! Not like—not in a bad way,” Steve clarifies. He has the most adorable pink flush on his cheeks, a frustrated little crease between his brows as he tries to find the words for what he’s so clearly hurting to say. “I’ve been into you for months. I honestly thought you were avoiding me these past few weeks ‘cause you could tell. I’m not, like,” he heaves a sigh, runs a nervous hand through his hair, “good at being subtle, man. I thought you were rejecting me.”

Eddie has no clue what kind of face he’s making right now, but he feels a little bit like he’s floating suddenly. Like he’s just missed the last step at the bottom of a staircase, a heavy, stony pang in his chest, his breath kind of stuck somewhere around his diaphragm. It’s almost like how it felt to flip upside down, weightless, as he climbed through the gate last spring, but only slightly less terrifying.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time we hooked up,” Steve admits, and Eddie's mouth falls open, because that was nearly a year ago. “I know we were supposed to be casual, but it… was never casual for me.” His face is a little redder now, but he doesn't break eye contact. It makes Eddie want to squirm. “I shouldn’t have lied and said I didn’t want more. I wanted you. When we—”  He swallows and Eddie can't help but glance down to watch the way his throat bobs, wants to sink his teeth into it. "When we’re together, you know, it’s… it’s all I ever think about. Fuck, I think about you all the time. I feel like I'm going insane.” He groans, letting his forehead fall forward onto Eddie’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m not doing a great job here.”

Steve thinks about him. Steve fucking wants him. Eddie is literally going to pass out or something.

“No,” he breathes, because this can’t be real, he has to be hallucinating or something, “no, you’re—this is really good. Keep going.”  

Steve sighs like he’s frustrated with himself, his breath warm against Eddie’s shirt. “What I’m trying to say is that I like you too, Eddie. A lot. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t, I’m just—kind of not great at this shit.”

Eddie really, really wants to pinch himself, but he can’t fucking move as Steve’s words sink into his bones. 

“You like me,” he croaks out. His hands curl into fists in the front of Steve’s shirt. He probably looks a fucking mess right now with tears and maybe snot all over his face but he can’t think about that, not when Steve is so close. “You actually like me? Like, not—not just fucking me?”  

“I mean, I do like doing that,” Steve says, lifting his head with a ridiculous grin and eyebrow waggle that makes Eddie feel hot all over. He groans and shoves Steve’s face away half-heartedly, and Steve laughs, turns his head to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm.

Eddie just about melts into a puddle on the floor. God, the Steve Harrington charm. Steve’s smile turns a little soft.

“But yeah,” he says, leaning into Eddie’s hand. “I’m kinda crazy about you, man.”

Eddie needs to make sure he's not insane. "Like, you wanna cuddle me and shit? Fuckin’… bake me a cake?”

Oh god, what do people in relationships even do? Is that even what Steve’s gunning for here?

Steve's clearly trying not to laugh. "I mean, I can make you a cake if you want, but I'm not that great at baking. I always put too much flour and it turns out so bad, and this one time I accidentally put salt instead of sugar and Robin still doesn't shut up about it. I can make a pretty solid lasagna, though, if you want—”

"Oh my god," Eddie says, because he's definitely insane, and also because the idea of Steve in the kitchen making him a lasagna like some kind of little housewife is going to make him act fucking stupid, "shut up."

He really does pinch himself, then, and all it does is hurt. Steve’s lips quirk up again, and he steps a little closer, until it would be so easy for Eddie to tilt his head a bit and move in for a kiss. He goes a little cross-eyed trying to keep looking at Steve, trying to make sure this is still real, that this isn’t some Vecna shit and Steve’s about to turn into some kind of fucked up monster and start, like, eating him or something. 

“Did you just pinch yourself?” Steve asks, grinning so wide Eddie can almost taste it.

“No,” Eddie lies.

“That’s so cute."

Eddie makes a weird, strangled sound, and it’s the most humiliating little noise, one he didn’t even know he was capable of making. He doesn’t have a chance to be embarrassed about it, though, because Steve moves so their lips are just barely apart. 

“Can I kiss you now? I really want to.” Their noses touch. “I know it’s not the first time, but… I wanna kiss you.”

“Like in a gay way?” Eddie blurts, like an idiot.

Steve’s eyes crinkle up a bit when he laughs. “Yeah, dude. In a gay way. I mean, I kinda feel like me licking my jizz out of your mouth that one time was already pretty gay, but yeah. I wanna kiss you for real. If that’s okay.”

Good Enough

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 4.000

Read on AO3

So, Edwin is in love with him.

Edwin loves him, and Charles genuinely never even considered the possibility of this, of them, before.

It might be because, back when he was still alive, his dad would have beaten the notion right out of him, but then again, his dad has been wrong about most things in his life, so fuck him.

So, Edwin is in love with him.

It’s… quite flattering, actually. To think that Edwin, who is beautiful and intelligent and educated, who can recite his favourite Keats poem by heart just as easily as tell you his favourite Mozart aria (it’s Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen from Die Entführung aus dem Serail, Edwin told him that, years ago), who knows spells and can read ancient Aramaic, who is the kindest, most brilliant person Charles has ever known, would love him.

Now, Charles knows that he is easy enough on the eyes, good with words and people, and has one hell of a swing if you give him a cricket bat, but the only reason he knows any Mozart aria is because Edwin showed them to him.

The only reason he knows Keats’ poetry is because Edwin would read them to him on slow, warm summer nights in the early 2000s.

The only reason he is here, is because Edwin let him stay.

So, it’s special, having someone like Edwin love him.

It’s fucking terrifying.

Because Charles is now holding the heart of the person he loves most in the world, and it’s a bigger responsibility than any he has ever taken on before.

He can’t fuck this up.

The thing is that nothing changes between them at all.

Charles isn’t sure if he expected it to, but what he is relatively certain about is that it most likely should. After all, it was an unexpected revelation, probably to both of them, definitely a shift in their relationship.

And yet, when Charles looks at Edwin, who is reading a novel whose name he cannot make out, curled up on the couch they have gotten for Crystal (and sometimes Jenny), he doesn’t feel different at all.

It’s still Edwin, his best mate, the boy that read to him when he was dying so he wouldn’t have to do it alone, who tries to smile whenever Charles shows him a new song he has fallen in love with, and occasionally fails hilariously at, who Charles would protect with his life and his soul and his cricket bat, no matter how high the stakes.

I love you the most, Charles thinks to himself, and smiles, because nothing about that has changed, either.

He has told Edwin that they would have forever to figure out the rest, and it’s the truth, technically speaking.

However, Charles doesn’t, because it’s Edwin and he has given Charles his heart and he doesn’t deserve to wait that long for an answer. It would be cruel in a way Charles cannot comprehend, and if there is anyone who doesn’t deserve more cruelty in their existence, it’s Edwin Payne.

The only problem with that fact is that Charles doesn’t know the answer.

He’s been thinking about it a lot, but the thing is, he’s never been in love before.

So he doesn’t really know what to compare his feelings for Edwin to, because, of course, they are greater than for anyone else, of course, Charles would sacrifice anything and anyone for Edwin, especially himself, of course, making Edwin smile is his favourite part of any day.

Because he loves Edwin, everything about him.

But is he, could he be, in love with Edwin?

Charles doesn’t know, nor does he know how to find out. It’s not like he hasn’t tried, but every novel he has paged through, every silly romcom he has watched, has been talking about butterflies in someone’s stomach, of seeing them in some new, golden light, of hearing violins playing when they speak, and Charles very much doubts that Edwin feels any of those things for him.

Otherwise he wouldn’t raise his eyebrows like that when he thinks Charles is being an insufferable little prick, he wouldn’t roll his eyes and tell him, “I know, Charles, you have told me a thousand times before”, whenever Charles brings up how much he wishes he could still taste things, or groan whenever Charles attempts to convince him to just try and let him put on some eyeliner.

(It’s just that Edwin would look so pretty like that, some kohl to bring out the warmth of his eyes, making them stand out even more than they do anyway.)

So all this talk of violins and sparkles and the need to give someone roses, if Edwin doesn’t feel that when he says he is love with Charles, then it’s pointless to consider, and anyway, those books and films describe people who have just met, not those who have known each other for twice as long as they were alive.

Maybe if he had just met Edwin, he would be hearing violins, Charles definitely thinks it’s possible.

Especially the violins in Konstanze, dich wiederzusehen.

“I just need some time alone”, Crystal says, putting on her jacket, while already opening the door. “And I am aware that that is a novel concept for the two of you, since you are basically attached at the hip, but for me, an alive human being, it’s really important to occasionally have a second of peace between almost dying and whatever we will have going on next.”

She stops to put on her shoes, almost falling over in the process, and Charles and Edwin share a look, a smile, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

“Don’t follow me”, Crystal tells them, especially Charles, and it’s kind of cute, actually. “I’m going to get the biggest frappuchino Starbucks is legally allowed to serve me and I will not tolerate any ghostly company while doing that.”

Charles holds up his hands, still grinning, indicating his surrender in a battle he wasn’t aware they were fighting, and Crystal gives him a single nod before she walks out.

“So”, Charles starts, and turns around to face Edwin, who is already looking back, “what do we think this frappuchino she was talking about, is?”

Actually, there is one thing that changes between them after all.

It’s subtle, at least at first, but looking back, Charles isn’t quite sure how he managed to miss it for the few weeks that have passed. Maybe it was the shock of almost being forced to move on to the afterlife, the chaos of getting Crystal and Jenny settled in London, the fact that it seems to increase only slowly, incrementally.

Edwin has never been a physically affectionate person, completely contrary to how Charles is.

If it had been up to him alone, he would have hugged Edwin much more often, would have leant against him when they were looking through a book together, would have held hands to keep them from losing each other when things got hectic. But it wasn’t, and that was fine, so it was occasional touches instead, a hand on Edwin’s upper arm, his back, ruffling his perfect hair when he was doing something kind of dumb, kind of cute.

(That one always made him duck his head and smile, glance up at Charles through his lashes and allow a second to pass before he started fixing his hair again.)

Now, however, it’s… it’s not getting better, because there was nothing wrong with it in the first place, Edwin’s aversion to physical affection, but it is changing now.

It’s less that he initiates it, more than he allows it to happen more frequently. Sitting down next to Charles on the sofa instead of taking the armchair, allowing Charles’ hand to linger on his arm for a moment longer than expected, letting their shoulders brush when walking.

He’s not asking to be touched, not really, but something about it still makes Charles irrationally happy as soon as he catches onto it. Because Edwin deserves all the affection the world can offer, and Charles will always be here to give it to him.

So he reaches out in the morning, when the sun has just started to rise, and puts his hand on the curve of Edwin’s shoulder, right where it meets his neck, and points out that the clouds are turning the most beautiful pink. He throws his legs across Edwin’s lap when they settle down on the sofa at night, a book in Edwin’s hands, the tablet Crystal made him buy in Charles’. He pushes his fingers through Edwin’s hair, not to ruffle it, but just to pretend he can feel its softness against his skin.

It makes Edwin duck his head again, give Charles a little smile when looking up, and Charles thinks, I love you the most.

And thinks, I want to love you the most in every way you will have me.

“Jenny, I have a question”, Charles starts as soon as he has phased through the walls of her new butcher shop. It’s to her credit that she hardly reacts; the first time he had done that, she had thrown a meat cleaver right through his head. “What do you know about love?”

Instead of a knife, Jenny just throws him a weary look, an eyebrow elegantly arched. It makes Charles think of being scolded by the headmistress, a sensation that should be much more unpleasant than it is.

“Nothing”, Jenny answers and brings her cleaver down with a dull thud, separating flesh from bone, before looking up at Charles again. “No one ever knows anything about love and if they try to tell you otherwise, they are lying.”

There is a certain sense of finality in her voice and Charles knows he has been dismissed, no detention this time, but don’t dare to push it.

“Great”, he mutters, more to himself than to Jenny, “that doesn’t help me at all.”

“You should look at this, Charles”, Edwin says and turns the book towards him.

It’s late at night, Crystal having long since gone home and they are sat on the sofa, shoulders touching while they do their research. A new case has come up, and Edwin is trying to learn more about ancient Celtic runes, while Charles is pouring over a map of London’s underground; now, he looks up and at the page Edwin is showing him.

“We could add this to your bat”, Edwin explains, “it’s a rune for physical strength. Supposedly, it doubles whatever force you put into a hit.”

“Edwin, mate, are you trying to tell me I need help with hitting people?”

Charles is grinning, obviously teasing, and Edwin just scoffs, rolls his eyes.

And that is what Charles means; this isn’t birdsong and candle light, this is just how they always have been. This is what makes them them, even.

“Charles, do be serious”, Edwin replies, but there is affection in his voice, there is love. “I am perfectly aware that you can hit things very well, but that doesn’t mean that hitting them even better wouldn’t be an advantage.”

“I know. This is brills”, Charles concedes, and on a whim, nothing more than that, presses a quick kiss to Edwin’s cheek.

For a moment, he almost expects Edwin to admonish him, because this isn’t exactly something that they do, but instead he stares at him, before he ducks his head; Charles isn’t sure how he knows this, but if Edwin could, he would be blushing.

And it does something to Charles’ head, the thought that he would be able to make Edwin blush. It makes him stop dead in his tracks, look at Edwin not like he is seeing him for the first time, but like he could be looking at him for the rest of his existence and not get bored of it.

“Do you wanna do the honours of carving it? Since you were the one who found the thing?”, he asks just to say something, aware that his voice sounds slightly off, and thinks, I love you the most. I love you the most. I love you the most.

“Very well done, Charles”, Edwin tells him and clasps a long-fingered hand on Charles’ shoulder, peering down at the leprechaun he knocked out clean with his bat a few seconds before.

The rune really makes it pack a punch.

“I don’t think this will pose any further problems”, Edwin continues even as he crouches down to examine the passed-out form crumpled on the ground. He prods at it gently.

“It fucking better”, Charles replies, resisting the urge to pull Edwin away from the leprechaun, just in case that touching it might have some kind of magical side effect. “And if not, I’ll punch it right back out. I’ve got an Edwin Payne-improved bat after all, it won’t stand a chance.”

Just for good measure, he twirls the bat around once, twice.

This has always been one of his favourite parts of the job, the simple pleasure of knocking someone out before they get the chance to hurt his friends.

Edwin looks up at him from where he is crouching, and Charles grins at him, metaphorical adrenaline running through his non-existent veins still. He would punch out a bear if Edwin asked it of him.

Before he can say anything else, though, Crystal clears her throat from behind him, sounding decidedly less impressed.

“That’s really cool, yeah. New bat, I get it”, she says, walking around Charles so she, too, can see the unconscious leprechaun. “But you do remember that we actually wanted to talk to him, right?”

They get to talk to the leprechaun in the end, who turns out to be about as obnoxious as expected, but does admit to stealing the heirloom they were looking for for his pot of gold.

He even gives it back, but only after Charles has started twirling his bat again.

“And another satisfied customer”, Charles comments as they return to the agency, flinging his backpack into the corner.

“Client, you mean”, Edwin corrects, but still smiles at him, and pats the space next to him as soon as he sits down on the sofa. Charles flings himself down without a second thought, legs landing somewhere across Edwin’s laps, one of his hands settling on Charles’ ankles.

This is new, at least to some extent, and Charles loves it, the feeling of Edwin’s fingers on him. It feels right, somehow.

I just really love you the most, he thinks.

“Yeah, whatever”, he concedes and looks over at Crystal, who is watching them with something in her eyes that Charles cannot quite place. Not bad, per se, just…. Strange. “Doesn’t sound that good though, does it? And anyway, the most important thing is that they’re satisfied, right? Passed on right to the afterlife, no worries keeping them here any longer.”

“As if it’s only worries that could keep one here”, Edwin replies, his tone as dry as the desert, but making Charles laugh anyway. “We should be the best example for that.”

“You know what I mean!”, he shoots back, “It isn’t like with us, is it? Don’t think that the client was kept back by meeting the love of their life, were they now?”

It spills from his lips like nothing, without Charles thinking about it for a single second.

He’s still laughing, but Edwin’s fingers have stopped where they were gently stroking across the arch of his foot, and then Charles realises it, and for the first time, hears silence.

For the first time since they got back from Hell, they part when Crystal leaves.

The conversation had been stilted after Charles’...slip up? blunder? confession? and although it had been obvious that all three of them had been trying, it had been impossible to get things back on track.

So, Charles leaves with Crystal, telling Edwin he will walk her home, although that is something he has never done before, and Crystal lets him, although he is fairly certain she wouldn’t under normal circumstances.

She doesn’t need anyone protecting her from the city she grew up in after all.

“How do you know you’re in love with someone?”, Charles asks after they have walked in silence for a few minutes. He can’t think of a way to cushion the question, how to make it less awkward to ask, so he doesn’t bother with it at all.

“This is about Edwin?”, she asks, seemingly to clarify, and Charles nods mutely, not looking up at her. “I’m not sure. Especially not when it comes to the two of you. For Edwin, I could have seen from miles away that he was in love with you, even if he hadn’t reacted like he did when we first met. For you… you love him, anyone with eyes could see that, but if you’re in love with him, I think you have to figure that out yourself.”

“Do you know how it feels, though? Being in love?”, he asks, just in case Crystal can at least tell him that.

“I’m not sure”, she answers after a moment, then links their arms together, pulling Charles closer. “I think that’s different for everyone. But I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out what it feels like to you if you let yourself.”

He walks Crystal home, but when she asks if he wants to stay, Charles just shakes his head.

Edwin is back at the agency, and Charles isn’t sure exactly in which state, what he is thinking, and Charles cannot allow that. At least not for long.

What he does, though, is taking a little detour to the park not too far from their building.

It’s the first time he really pays it any mind, even if it’s most likely not the first time he’s been there, but now, Charles lays down on the grass, looking up at the night sky.

London is too bright for him to see many stars, but there’s a few of them; Edwin would surely be able to point out a constellation or two.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.

Edwin isn’t here, and yet he is with Charles anyway, always, in every moment of his existence.

Sighing, he scrubs a hand down his face. There’s no way around it, it has to be now, and it has to be the right answer, the one he truly means, because Edwin deserves nothing but that.

No false hope, and no heartbreak that might be taken back along the line.

So, he thinks of Edwin, of his elegant hands and the swagger in his walk when he feels confident, of the colour of his hair and of his eyes, of the curves and slopes and sharp cuts of his face.

He loves that face, has seen it with every possible expression painted across of it, and still loves it.

The stars above are dim and partly hidden behind the clouds, so Charles lets his eyes slip shut, and imagines coming home to the agency and taking Edwin’s hands in his.

They would be just a little smaller than his own, his fingers slender and yet so capable, and if he could still feel, Charles is convinced they would feel cool against his skin.

He imagines pulling Edwin close and holding him like he has always wanted to, burying his face against the side of Edwin’s neck and pretending he can breathe in his scent. Having Edwin sneak his arms around Charles’ waist and cling to the back of his jacket, like he doesn’t want to let go again.

In his imagination, it feels a little like the hug they shared after being granted asylum on Earth, but it would be entirely different, because it wouldn’t be out of relief.

Instead, it would be just them, embracing to feel the other close.

And he thinks of pulling back from the hug, seeing Edwin smile and kissing the curve of his lips, nipping at them until he can make Edwin laugh and teasing his mouth open to lick into it.

It would be like kissing Crystal, kind of, only that-

Only that it wouldn’t be like that at all.

He runs back to the agency, as fast as his spectral feet can carry him.

Edwin is sitting right where he left him, almost like he hadn’t moved an inch since Charles walked out of the door, and he hopes to all deities he can think of that it isn’t so; knows, at the same time, that it is.

“Hi”, Charles greets, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and Edwin nods and gives him a smile, brittle and unsure and hopeful, all at once.

“Hello, Charles. Did Crystal get home safe?”, he asks, and it’s so painfully polite it makes Charles cringe.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course she did”, he responds, trying to figure out how to begin saying what he needs Edwin to know, but Edwin beats him to it.

“Did you mean it?”, Edwin asks, breathes out the question like he still has lungs to do so, and it’s in that moment that Charles is more certain of his answer than anything else he has ever thought, because Edwin sounds small, sounds vulnerable and breakable and yet so fucking hopeful, and Charles wants to pick him up and cradle him against his chest and never let go again.

“Yes”, he says, and it’s sunrise and violins and bouquets of roses all at once, it’s a single word that changes the world around them. “Kind of. Let me explain.”

And Edwin nods, sits back with his hands in his lap and all Charles can think about is that those same hands belong holding a book, resting on the top of Charles’ legs, which should be flung carelessly across Edwin’s lap, just because Charles wants to be near him.

“You’re the love of my life, no matter what”, he starts, crouching down in front of Edwin so he can take his hands; they look so lost. “You have been for decades. I love you the most of anything in the world. I will always love you the most. Every time I look at you, it’s just that on repeat in my head. I love you the most.”

He ducks his head, laughing softly, because it sounds silly now that he says it out-loud, but when he looks back up, there are tears brimming in Edwin’s eyes, making them shine even brighter.

His lips are parted and for just a moment, Charles thinks about kissing them.

“And you know, I still can’t say that I am in love with you back, because you don’t deserve a lie, but what I can say, what I can promise you, is that I could fall in love with you. And that I want to. More than anything.”

A single tear rolls down Edwin’s cheek, glistening in the dim light, and Charles looks at him, and thinks, I do. I am. I love you the most.

“Could that be enough?”, he asks, squeezing Edwin’s hands in his. “At least for the start?”

And Edwin nods so frantically that more tears spill over, wetting his face, and Charles can’t help but laugh; how strange to think that making Edwin cry for once is not his biggest fear, but something that fills his heart with joy to the point of bursting.

“Okay. Brills, that’s-”, he replies, and can’t keep himself from smiling so wide it would hurt if he was still alive. “So, um. Can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you right now.”

Again, Edwin nods, and he is smiling, too, looks so happy that Charles thinks heaven must be overrated, because nothing in the whole of existence could compare to this.

He thinks of the scene he pictured in the park of holding Edwin close and how much in pales in comparison to this, to holding Edwin’s hands and watching him glow with love and hope and warmth.

And leans in to find out if the same is true for kissing him.

(It is.)

Steddie Fanfiction Masterlist Rec

I've been reading steddie fics for a solid four days now, and I wanted to share my favorites with you all! Some of these are still being updated. I hope you enjoy!

Too Hot, Too Greedy by nikol_eyes, 8 k, mature. “King Harrington.” Eddie smirked, grabbing Steve’s hand and bending low once again, and if he’d had any more time to react Steve was sure he would’ve snatched his hand away on reflex. Instead, he felt the soft brush of Eddie’s lips against his skin, heard the raucous laughter that erupted from both Eddie and Robin, and felt his skin raise another few degrees in temperature.

There's a Clock in my Head (is it Wrong? Is it Right?) by Cloverspies, 15 k, teen. Ronance as well. In the relentless, revealing light of early morning, Robin took one look at Steve's dazed expression and said, "Oh my God. Holy shit. Did you—?" Steve stared at her. A moment later, a bright grin spread across his face. "Did you?"

Feel this Burning, Love of Mine by Judasofsuburbia, 15 k, explicit. Vecna is defeated. Steve Harrington stays in the hospital to be with Eddie Munson, despite everyone's confusion, including his own. After Eddie gets released, he has his first night terrors and immediately calls Steve for help. How can Steve resist?

Understood by Dykealert, 21 k, explicit. “You say you crave connection with people and then push us away when we try.” “Yeah, I guess I do.” Eddie hits rock bottom. Steve’s there too.

I Know The End (The End is Here) by Thrynn_Star, 24 k, mature. “Well if it isn’t Eddie Munson,” Steve drawls, swinging his car keys round his finger, offering Eddie a wink, “Bit early to be picking a movie. I haven’t even unlocked the door yet.” Eddie shuts the passenger side door of his own van, hoping he looks as confident as he tries to sound. “Not here for a movie, Harrington. Here for a job, if you’re still offering?" // Set after Vecna's demise (and written before Season 4 Vol.2 is released), Hawkins seems eager to move on, and eager to leave Eddie Munson behind. But when he gets a job at Family Video, Eddie discovers that with the help of some unlikely friendships, he can move on as well. And maybe, just maybe, he can be happy too.

We Survived (Together) by Plistommy, 1.7 k, explicit. ”I can’t lose you. Not you.” Steve confessed and Eddie swore his heart skipped a beat and soon, he was leaning down to catch Steve’s hungry mouth once more. He dropped his keys to the floor and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, careful not to hurt the other while Steve kept roaming his hands on his chest. ”Bedroom.” Was all Eddie said before he started to push Steve.

Steady As He Goes by Anonymous, 37 k, explicit. Steve and Eddie are under the misconception that they dislike each other.

Look After You by Stedieon, 32 k, explicit. He remembered screaming. He could excuse it as panic, the threat of the unknown piling on top of everything he’d already bore witness to over the past days. But really, Steve’s grim smile and 'no complaints' echoed in his head, and Eddie couldn’t help but feel like this should have been expected.

Ain't It a Gentle Sound by prettydizzeed, 10 k, explicit. So. There’d be no, like, veneer to it, sex with Steve; if Steve hurt him, it’d be with the transparent acknowledgment that that was the point, that Eddie wanted him to, no layers of setup or characterization to give any distance. Which is honestly so fucking vulnerable, in a way that’s hard to think about sometimes, but fuck if it doesn’t make Eddie’s toes curl.

So It Was Thought by SpiritedKaway, 35 k, mature. Eddie Munson was supposed to meet his end in a heroic death, Max was supposed to live, and they were supposed to defeat Vecna once and for all. He had played his heart out, and he was ready. He wouldn't run. Not this time. But when he woke up, and Eddie couldn't help but feel like he hadn't woken up in the afterlife. He should be dead. He was supposed to be dead. So it was thought, my friends. So it was thought. But Eddie — lives.

Anything Goes in the Winnebago by ChronicRabbit, 6 k, explicit. “Harrington’s got her. Don’tcha, Big boy?” That’s what Eddie had said to him with that huge shit-eating grin he always seemed to flash after one of his cheeky little jokes. Because it was a joke. There was no reason for Steve’s heart to thud in his chest like it was trying escape the prison of his ribs. He was so fucked.

The Edification of Steve Harrington by ChronicRabbit, 28 k, explicit. It had been two and a half months since the end of Spring Break. Eddie had been cleared of all charges, The Byers were back in Hawkins like they’d never left, Vecna was dead and gone, and everything was back to normal; or rather as back to normal as Hawkins could get. Unfortunately for one Steve Harrington, his new normal seemed to be not only his inability to get a date, but also his newfound proclivity towards staring at Eddie Munson’s mouth while he dramatically narrated during a five hour Hellfire session, or counting the freckles on the bridge of his nose, or memorizing the patterns in his honey coloured eyes. What the fuck was wrong with him?

The Affliction of the Feeling by Nondz, 27 k, explicit. “Hold on,” Robin interrupts. “Hold on, is this— are you, like. Do you know what masochism is?” “I know like I act like it sometimes, Robin, but I’m not actually fucking twelve,” Steve says. OR: Eddie has a black hanky in his back pocket.

you must like me for me (yeah, i want you)

pairing: steve harrington/eddie munson

rating: teen

word count: 50.8k (4/13)

summary: This is not how Steve expected to spend his summer. After graduating last year, he’d been working nonstop, saving up money to get out of this shithole town since college is definitely not in the cards for him. He had plans. But no, Robin had to corner him after he watched her walk the stage at graduation, saying she found them the perfect summer job. He was supposed to roadtrip to California in his beat up BMW, not babysit kids for weeks at a time. Steve really needs to learn how to say no to her.

Or, Steve’s roped into working at a summer camp and falls in love over the course of thirteen days—give or take.

READ ON AO3

Do you have any buddie fic recs that is a /must/ read for Buddie shippers ( sorry I don't ship Bucktommy 🥹)

Boy do I ever!!!

honey, when you call my name - @hippolotamus (Explicit)

"Eddie witnesses the Buck/Lucy kiss, has himself a little panic, and decides to do something about it when Buck does his Buck thing and won't stop pushing Eddie's buttons" It's spicy, it's sweet, it's packed full of feels and there was not a dry eye in the house!!

Whatever may come (your heart I will choose) - @hippolotamus (Mature)

"The Story of Eddie and Christopher Diaz" The number of times I yelled at Hippo while reading this,,,, it is incredible!! 30 chapters of Buckley-Diaz family feels, Eddie's heartbreaking backstory and FUCK if I could read it for the first time again, I would!

James Bond AU Series - @princessfbi (Teen & Explicit)

James Bond AU with 007 Agent Eddie Diaz and Buck as Q. Incredible. No notes. Read them back to back in one sitting, and then read them again immediately after. No prior knowledge of James Bond needed (cause I sure didn't have any) but be prepared to have the sudden urge to go watch all the films.

Kink Club AU Series - @princessfbi (Explicit)

"Canon compliant one shots where Eddie works at a Kink Club as a side hustle and meets Buck there before his first shift in 2x01." This series is insanely good. 5 perfect fics of the boys and BDSM, it is incredibly hot, full of feels and just.... yeah. Incredible. Please do read the tags before each fic though, especially if BDSM isn't your thing.

because we'll all arrive in heaven alive - @neverevan (Explicit)

"During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him." I was literally on the edge of my seat with every single chapter release. It's SO angsty and delicious and absolutely incredible, and I think also very feasible for what could happen in canon should Timothy ever decide to be as mean (affectionate) as Newbie was by putting the boys through this.

Out Of Order, Still In Line - @neverevan (Explicit)

"When Buck finally gets to the Clinic, the long awaited release doesn’t seem to come; cue Eddie to the rescue." One of the first Buddie fics I read and it altered my brain chemistry a little. Lord have mercy. It's just ... you gotta read it. Like, Jesus 🥵

My Blood on Your Skin (My Rose on Your Snow) - @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Explicit)

"When Eddie needs cash and fast to take care of Christopher, his LAFD Academy buddy suggests a job as a bouncer at Elysium - an exclusive sex club in downtown Los Angeles. Eddie doesn't care what goes on there, so long as he's paid, but he finds he cares a lot bout the club's enigmatic owner, Evan Buckley, and it's not long before the two of them are violating every boss-employee rule in the book. But there's something different about Buck and the club, something not quite... human. If Eddie wants to keep Buck, he's going to have to delve into the world of immortals, and all the risks that implies." Honestly I think the blurb says it all. I read this at my cousin's wedding (literally just before the ceremony and during the reception fsdkjdfs) because I literally couldn't put it down. Incredible Greek Gods integration and so. fucking. hot. Sorry Caleb, I hope your matrimony is holy but this was so worth it.

stuck now so long, we just got the start wrong - @daffi-990 (Unrated at present)

"Probational Firefighters Evan “Buck” Buckley and Eddie Diaz meet on a call which ends with them at odds with each other. As the months roll by, they keep running into each other on the job, much to Eddie’s dismay and Buck’s delight. Can they put aside their first opinions and misunderstandings and allow the seeds of friendship, and possibly something more, to take root?" This AU has been eating me alive with snippets for the last few months and the chapters are FINALLY being published!! Stay tuned for weekly updates about our idiots being - well - idiots. Daffi has written them so well and I don't think I could yell louder about this one if I wanted.

Cow Eyes - @theotherbuckley (General)

"'Eddie's in hospital and Buck tries not to break down' fic except its actually just a cute silly little fic" Exactly what is says on the tin. Cute, silly, fluffy and entirely adorable. High!Eddie is fucking hilarious and Worried!Buck has my whole ass heart. Love this fic, have read it many times, will read many times more

Both Blade and Branch - @cal-daisies-and-briars (Mature)

"The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back." Orpheus and Eurydice vibes but somehow more heartbreaking because it's the Boys? Literally every chapter I was gobsmacked and the fact that I couldn't read it in one sitting due to Life™️ was frankly criminal.

what humans do - @gayhoediaz

""…and the thought that she had just escaped death by such a narrow margin made me realize the intensity of my feelings toward her.” Eddie swallows. “‘What’s the matter?’ I couldn’t tell her, so I kissed her instead,” Buck goes on, and since Eddie’s eyes are focused on the page, they drift ahead a little bit, and the next few lines have him swallowing once again, taking his hand back to brace himself against the mattress as he slowly starts to push himself up to sit. “Kissing is what humans do when words have reached a place they can’t escape from. It is a switch to another language. The kiss was an act of defiance, maybe of war. You can’t touch us, is what the kiss said. ‘I love you,’ I told her, and as I smelled her skin, I knew I had never wanted anyone or anything more than I wanted her…” Buck trails off when Eddie reaches for the book, gently luring it out of his grasp. " One of the best getting together fics I've read. So sweet, so hot, full of feels, and also just very 🤯 in many places. Just insanely well written and perfect imagery.

Also I have a small list of authors whom I love dearly:

@spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @thewolvesof1998 @thekristen999

@steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @fortheloveofbuddie @rainbow-nerdss @bidisasterevankinard

@aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @kitteneddiediaz

@actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @loserdiaz @elvensorceress @underwaterninja13

@smilingbuckley

Literally anything these wonderful people (and the authors of the above fics) have written is well worth a read. I would rec all of their words and make individual recs for all their fics but I fear I simply do not have the words.

I might also humbly suggest some of my fics, which you can find here! Happy reading!!!

read this fic for steve losing his fucking mind

Written for @subeddieweek, day two.

A Firm Touch

Prompt: First Time | Word Count: 1912 | Rating: E | CW: Reference to Past Recreational Drug Use | Tags: First Time, Established Relationship, Being Restrained, Light Praise Kink, A Bit of Subspace, Insecure Eddie, Virgin Eddie, Service Top Steve, Working Out The Kinks (Literally), Boys in Love, Just Trying to Figure Themselves Out

Eddie squirms away from Steve's grasp, again, another night fucking ruined and Steve sighs in frustration. Running his hand through his hair. He's disheveled, and Eddie wants…but he can't. It's not gonna work.

This is never gonna work, and he doesn't know why he thought it might. He just wanted it to, so goddamn bad.

The knot in Eddie's stomach grows, because he knows that Steve is getting frustrated. Not by the lack of sex, Eddie doesn't think, but more by the lack of understanding of why they aren't having sex. Eddie's been trying, then shying away, stalling and Steve's been patient, but Eddie knows he's running out of runway. 

He's being a fucking cocktease, he's pretty sure, though that wasn't the intent.

"Eddie…" Steve trails off, "what? What is it this time?" he asks, hands finding his hips. The question comes across harsher than his voice actually sounds, but he's staring at Eddie in a way Eddie hates. He doesn't want to be looked at, stared at, perceived, known. 

Eddie shrugs, and Steve lets out a breath that's pure annoyance. Like something he'd aim at the kids when they are fraying his nerves. Eddie doesn't want that sound pointed in his direction, it makes him feel horrible. Worthless. 

Finally, Steve speaks again, "I just. I can't read your signals. They're all over the fucking place. Do you not want this? Or not with me? What? Just, what? Tell me," Steve pleads, and it's tinged with self-doubt, and maybe a little anger, and it makes Eddie withdraw further. Steve's got his own baggage, and Eddie knows it. But Eddie can't just say these things, can't ask for them.

So, Eddie clams up.

Because the other option is to jump right in, ready for a full fight. And he doesn't want to do that, so he just stays silent.

"Okay, I'll go," Steve says, and Eddie doesn't want him to go. But he doesn't know how to get him to stay. 

"Don't go," Eddie says, barely audible, squeezing his hands into fists so hard that his short nails are digging into his palms.

"Then tell me, and I'll do whatever you want," Steve says, soft, worried. Begging a little. "I can't keep guessing wrong. It's killing me."

"I'm just not built like you, Harrington," Eddie finally says. Hoping that will end the discussion for one more night. Maybe Steve will still stay, and give Eddie a little more time to figure his shit out.

"What do you mean by that?" Steve asks, his brow furrowed, as he's folding his hands in his lap.

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing," Steve answers, "obviously."

Eddie is annoyed, frustrated. But he knows he's not gonna get anywhere with soft, sweet Steve Harrington running his hands all over him, like he's made of glass. Been there, done that. And it never ends in anything other than in frustration. There's something broken in him, and Steve would never understand that. 

"Eddie, I-" 

"You don't want me. You don't want what I want. What I need." 

"What do you need, Eddie?" Steve asks, putting his hands on Eddie's arms, gently.

Eddie's exhausted, and he finally snaps, "I need you to hold me down. I need you to handcuff me and…" he trails off when he sees Steve's face. "I need a firm touch. A firm hand. To get off." 

"Oh," Steve says, soft and shocked. Disgusted, probably. 

Eddie looks down. 

And then Steve's big, warm hand is on his thigh. Pressing down. Firmly. 

"I can't, like, hit you," Steve says, face way too earnest.

"I don't need you to hit me," Eddie says with a small smile. He wouldn't be opposed, but if Steve won't get off on it, there's no way.

"But I can be firm. Well, I can try. I want to try." 

Of course he does, because Steve Harrington always jumps in with both feet. Eddie's seen it in action. He just never expected to see it here, in the bedroom. He just thought he'd be able to get over it, whatever hang up he has, but it hasn't happened. 

"Okay, Steve, you can try. If you don't like it, you say so." 

"It's you," Steve says with a grin, "I think I'll like it just fine." 

Eddie just smiles at him, embarrassed, but hopeful.

"Tell me what you like, what your previous sexual partners have done for you that worked," Steve says, like he's ready to take mental notes.

Eddie laughs, shaking his head, "No previous sexual partners. But I'm flattered that you think that's a possibility."

"Then how do you know…?" Steve trails off.

"I still know how I feel. I know how I get off, alone," Eddie answers.

And that…how, is not very easy, never has been. At least not alone.

"Of course. Of course you do," Steve says, like he should have known that. Eddie doesn't think that's a thing that most guys ever contemplate. Eddie imagines Steve can get off easily, without even thinking about it. 

A few quick tugs, thinking about a pretty girl, or a cute guy, and that's all it takes. Eddie wishes it were that simple. He's trying to not feel embarrassed. It's Steve, and he's gotten used to the fact that he can tell Steve anything. 

And if he wants this to work, and he does, then this conversation has to happen.

"Okay, where do we start?" Steve asks, sounding chipper, and ready to go. To act. Now that they've got even a hint of a plan. Eddie cannot believe how brave he is. He's a take-charge kinda guy, maybe this will come naturally to him.

Eddie knows asking Steve to start with handcuffs is crazy, and he's never even been in them before, couldn't do it on his own, and as much as he wants to be, that's for later. Hopefully. Someday, maybe. So, he just lays face down on the bed. 

"Can you just…hold me down, maybe? Restrain me? With your hands?" Eddie asks.

"Yes," Steve says, like he's one-hundred percent certain that's something he can do, and then rolls him over, with a confidence that really works on Eddie. 

Steve's got big hands, hands Eddie has fantasized about on more than one occasion. 

And he grabs both of Eddie's wrists in one of his, and pins them above Eddie's head, pressing them into the pillow.

They aren't even undressed, but Steve crawls on top of him. Sitting on his thighs. 

"This good?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. It's good.

He's clearly having to stretch to hold Eddie like that, so Eddie isn't surprised when Steve scoots up his body, until he's off his thighs, until they are crotch to crotch, and Steve doesn't shy away from that. He just pushes down against him, as he presses on his wrists even harder now that he has a better angle.

Steve's hard, and Eddie still isn't. Maybe this won't work. Maybe he's not meant to have anything as good as Steve.

But Steve keeps grinding down, over and over, as he squeezes Eddie's wrists. Then, Steve scoots up further, his hard cock pressing into Eddie's belly as Steve leans over him, his chest right over Eddie's face, and Eddie feels boxed in, Steve's shirt hanging down, brushing against his nose. The scent of Steve flooding Eddie's nostrils with every movement Steve's body makes. Eddie feels hidden. Secure. Safe. And he closes his eyes and just feels it all, fully. 

Enjoys.

When Steve shifts again, Eddie realizes he's hard. He doesn't know when that happened, but it feels so good. Steve is still rutting against him, and the pressure of him holding him to the bed feels like it's dug a hook into Eddie's center, and now there's an anchor pulling him down into the most amazing place he's ever been.

He feels drunk. He feels like he's taken the perfect amount of K, and now he's gently slipping into a hole.

Steve's not really doing much of anything, Eddie knows it's simple, but whatever Steve is doing is perfect. It's working.

Then, Steve leans forward, putting more weight on Eddie's wrists, holding them in place as he nearly lays on top of Eddie fully. Leaning most of his weight into it. Bringing them back together, hard cock pressed to hard cock. Still rolling his hips, grinding against him in slow, deliberate circles.

And even as Steve pushes all the air out of his lungs, Eddie feels like he can breathe, finally.

Steve's heavier than he looks, and Eddie is lost in the security he feels being under Steve.

He never even knew to dream about this, but here it is, his wildest dreams coming true at the hands of Steve Harrington.

"You feel so good under me," Steve says close to Eddie's ear, "you're being so good. Getting hard, just for me."

Eddie moans. 

"That's good," Steve says again, "are you ready for me to let you go? Do you want me to touch you?"

Eddie shakes his head no, then makes his request, "Lay on me."

And Steve lowers his whole body to Eddie's, pressing him into the mattress. Chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Eddie can feel every point of contact, every point of pressure, and it's good. So good.

His wrists are still tight in Steve's grasp, but now he feels like his whole body is being held in the same way. Safe. Secure.

Steve rolls his hips, one more time, and Eddie attempts to lift up his hips, tries to get his ass off the bed, but he can't, and he comes in his jeans. Steve following him over the edge.

Tears leak out of Eddie's eyes, and his breathing is shallow with Steve on top of him, but he's happy, and relieved, and kind of boneless. Steve finally shifts so he can hold Eddie's wrists in one hand instead of two, lighter now, and brushes the fingers of his open hand against Eddie's cheek. Face near Eddie's, grounding him.

"Whenever you're ready, tell me what you need. What to do," Steve whispers, and Eddie nods.

Eddie finally felt ready for Steve to let him go, so Steve's shifted so he's laying beside him, not on him, kissing his face, his neck, taking care of him like he always does. Just in a new way now. When Eddie pictured submitting, in the abstract, he was expecting punishment. Pain. To be used, and probably discarded. Thought that's what he wanted. Rough, hard, mean. He thought he needed to be hurt, or tortured, just a little.

And maybe he still does.

But Steve Harrington is none of those things, and his style of taking control isn't either. Steve's a take-charge kind of guy, but there's a softness there that Eddie never wants to see go away, honestly. 

"Was that okay?" Steve asks, and he looks so fucking nervous.

"More than," Eddie says, looking right in his eyes, "thank you."

"So, the handcuffs?" Steve asks, hint of a grin pulling at his lip.

"Wishful thinking," Eddie admits. Then raises his eyebrows, "Why? You interested?"

"For sure. Can we ease into it?" Steve asks, wrapping his arm around Eddie's waist, holding him tight, still so tight, and Eddie's sure he'll be asleep in minutes, feeling this comfortable.

This secure.

This safe.

This loved.

"Definitely," Eddie says, and closes his eyes, turning his face towards Steve's, nuzzling into him. Letting himself be held, not only down, but close.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @subeddieweek and follow along with the fun! 🖤

Notes: It was harder to write a first time (for both!) and have them have super defined roles. They're figuring their shit out. Together. And I like think Service Top Steve can grow into Pleasure Dom Steve, but not right out of the gate.

☀️🕊️🧺🐂🌾

s e e i n g d a y l i g h t

When i saw cowboy au, i knew i Had to dive in🔥. ayeayeayes 's new work is Spectacular and i'm so Excited for you all to welcome it!! @subeddieweek

FIC HIGHLIGHT ALERT!!

here we are again! and gladly so!

today i'm highlighting the highly anticipated, @thefreakandthehair butter, sugar, and northern mockingbirds AO3 Link.

when i first read the sneak peek snippet, i knew this was going to be something good like it always is.

things i loved about this fic:

LITERALLY STEVE AND EDDIE WILL ALWAYS BE IN LOVE

the menu being all odes to steve and his found family

robin & eddie being the best helpers (& investors 🫡)

steve stopping eddie out of nowhere to clean his braid

raspberry lemon bars!

corroded kitchen <3

the accompanied fan art?!!?!?

THE MOCKINGBIRD METAPHOR?!?!?!?!?!?!

keep reading for the author's summary 🥰

“Holy shit, Steve, this cookie has no right to be this good,” Eddie praises, cookie crumbs stuck to the corner of his lips. “What did you put in this? Drugs? Is it drugs? I feel like it could be drugs, they’re that good.” It’s not the first time he’s felt these proverbial butterfly wings flapping against the inside of his ribs. Every time they’re alone together, every time their shoulders graze or eyes meet, every time Steve sees Eddie smile with that stupid dimple that not even the slashing scar across his cheek can hide, the little thing with wings that’s taken up residence close enough to his heart to set it alight goes insane. He should know how to handle the feeling by now, but he doesn’t.

Or, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and Eddie Munson open Steve's secret dream bakery after surviving the Vecnapocalypse. Eddie can't seem to stop getting flour in his hair, Steve can't stop touching him, and Robin might lose her mind.

-

please. read. this! now preferably! i was finally able to read this and it did not disappoint. i felt the love from the characters, and i felt the love that was poured into the writing.

never forget to leave kudos & meaningful comments! all the good things! 🤍

“You don’t have to be afraid, Eds, it’s just me,” Steve whispered, covering Eddie’s hand with his own.

“That’s exactly it. It’s you, Steve, it’s you.”

Me to the barbies: NOW KITH 💋

Pas de Deux Chapters 8 & 9, come and get 'em!

My original piece for the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang

I was so fortunate to have @sidekick-hero as a collaborator for this design as well.

Please take the time to check out their fic, Emotional Motion Sickness

Times Like These

(The Anniversary Edition)

Link to anniversary post

When Eddie finds himself back in his living room, staring down a very alive Chrissy Cunningham, after just having bled to death himself in the middle of a nightmare world, he was rightfully very, very fucking confused.

-Or-

What happens when the new guy, who only just got inducted into the fucked up world of monsters and mayhem, gets stuck in a time loop and finds himself responsible for saving everyone?

Chapter 1: The Hell Loop

WC: 2,902

Eddie could hardly breathe past the blood that was flooding into his mouth, threatening to choke him before he even had the opportunity to bleed out. He tried to keep it together for Dustin’s sake. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt or have to see something like this, hence the cutting of the rope, but traumatized was a hell of a lot better than dead, so he couldn’t regret either of the choices he’d made.

“I love you, man.” 

Eddie forced the words out, coughing and sputtering

“I love you too.” Dustin replied.

Eddie couldn’t see anymore, but the tears in the younger boy's voice were hard to miss. 

It was the last thing he heard before he died.

Dying didn’t hurt, quite the opposite actually. Eddie could pinpoint the exact moment he passed on, because it was the same moment the pain stopped. He found himself floating away into an unfamiliar blackness and couldn’t even bring himself to be scared. He was too relieved at being free of the agony and guilt.

Before he could do much more than wonder where he was floating off to, a loud almost overwhelming rushing sound hit his ears. Instinctually, he tried to cover them to drown out the noise, only to realize he didn’t exactly have a body right now. No ears to cover, no hands to do it with.

With that frightening thought his eyes shot open, -oh thank fuck he had eyes again- and his feet hit solid ground. Inexplicably, he was back in the trailer. He looked up to find that the ceiling was intact, and Chrissy Cunningham– whole, and alive, was standing just a few feet in front of him, looking nervous and jittery. 

“Are you sure you have it?”

What the actual fuck?

“Holy shit, Chrissy! You’re alive?!” Eddie gasped.

Her face twisted up in confusion, a feeling Eddie was also becoming intimately familiar with. What was this? Some life-flashing-before-your-eyes-on-the-way-to-the-grave bullshit? But he was already dead, he was sure of it, so that could only mean…

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” he blurted out. 

Why he was apologizing to some visage of the past that probably wasn't even real, he did not know, but it felt appropriate. 

She’d been through a lot. 

“You’re probably not alive, actually, if you’re here. Since I'm, y’know– dead, and all.” He continued, letting out a frankly deranged sounding laugh as he began to pace around the room.

“But why are you here?” He mused, thinking out loud.

It could actually be her, he reasoned. She was dead too, right? But that would mean they wound up in the same place and that was absolutely ridiculous. 

A sweet little thing like her? 

Guaranteed one way ticket to the good place. 

And Eddie? 

Well, he never had any doubts about where he was going to end up.

The realization hit him like a Mack truck, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Oh my god, I’m in Hell. This is Hell. I ran away. I ran– I didn’t even try to help you and then I fucking died!” Eddie let out a painful sob as he dropped to his knees on the floor, hands covering his face. Now that he was back here, having to face her again after what he’d done, It was all hitting him at once. 

His voice shook as he continued rambling. “Right in front of Dustin too… and- and now this is my Hell. I’ll probably have to watch you die, over-and-over-and-over again.”

He felt the air shift, heard the light footsteps as Chrissy took a few hesitant steps towards him. 

“Watch me die?” She said, voice cracking, sounding so, so small and scared. “Eddie, please… you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Shit, he really couldn’t stop fucking this up could he? 

Even if Hell-Chrissy wasn’t real, he still felt horrible for scaring her. None of this was her fault. He rubbed at his face hard and took a deep calming breath before looking up at her again. 

She wasn’t looking at him anymore though. She was rigid, staring straight ahead at something he couldn’t see, only the whites of her eyes visible as they rolled to the back of her head. 

He jumped to his feet, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run, again, but fuck that. He was already dead, probably, and none of this was real– he was almost sure none of this was real, but maybe he could still try to help her. 

Music had snapped Red out of it, maybe it would work for Chrissy too. 

Eddie raced to his bedroom, snatching his Walkman off the bed before sprinting back to the living room. He knew it was pretty fucking unlikely that the head cheerleader of Hawkins High was a secret Metallica fan, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

He gently placed the headphones over her ears and pressed play, the volume loud enough that he could just make out the sound of the opening riff to Master of Puppets.

-

It didn’t work. 

He hadn’t really thought it would.

He forced himself to watch as her body began to float.

Listened to the sickening snap as each of her arms and legs were twisted, and broken.

Stood frozen, a silent witness, unmoving until her body dropped to the floor like a ragdoll.

He didn't even scream.

He’d tried, and he hadn’t let her die alone. It was all he could do.

Hell or not, Eddie wasn’t keen on hanging out with a dead body if he could help it. So finally, he let himself go, grabbing his keys off the counter, and rushed out to the van.

–

Eddie drove slowly, aimlessly around town, at a bit of a loss for what to do next. It was a far cry from the way he’d peeled out of the trailer park and sped down the road on the night of Chrissy’s actual death, heart racing like a trapped rat desperately seeking shelter from a predator he couldn't even see. This time around he just felt numb.

Not knowing what else to do, he decided to follow his previous course of action. If he was right in assuming that he was being made to relive his greatest hits from the last 7 days, at least this way he knew he’d get to see Dustin’s face again. He drove towards Lover’s Lake, already dreading spending another night at Rick’s.

–

The morning after a sleepless night found him back in a boat, hiding under a tarp, and clutching tightly to the neck of a broken beer bottle. The numbness had faded hours ago, leaving the door open for anxiety and terror to return in full force. In short, Eddie was freaking out. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left Chrissy's body to grow cold on the living room floor, but the second he heard the voices outside the boathouse he went into panic mode, just as he had the first time, unsure of what or who might be coming for him. 

Would it be more visions from the past? Or had the devil finally sent his minions to collect.

A few confusing moments, and a jab to the ribs with a fucking wooden oar later, Eddie was, for the second time in his life, throwing Steve Harrington violently against a wall and shoving a jagged edge of glass close enough to his throat that one deep breath would draw blood.

He stared into the other boy's eyes from inches away, and he wanted to drop the bottle. He remembered every single thing Steve and the others had done for him as he faced down the worst week of his life, but this could very well be Hell. 

And that might not be the Steve he’d come to trust.

The one he’d come to know wasn’t the same stuck up asshole he remembered from high school, who had proven time and time again that he was a good guy.

And he couldn’t afford to be wrong.

“Eddie! Stop!” The thing that looked like Dustin shouted. “Eddie, it’s me, it's Dustin. This is Steve, he’s not gonna hurt you. Right, Steve?”

Eddie, wanting to believe it so badly, actually did lower the bottle a little, only to accidentally drop it to the ground, his only weapon shattering at his feet. 

He fisted a hand into the front of Steve’s shirt. 

“What are you doing here man, what do you want from me?” 

Steve dropped the oar, all the breath whooshing out of him at once. “Dustin and Max wanted to find you. I’m just here to keep the little shits safe, I swear.”

Eddie caught movement out of the corner of his eye as Robin and Max began to approach from the side cautiously. Right, they had been there too, he'd almost forgotten. 

“We just want to know what happened, Eddie. We wanna help,” Max said.

It was the earnestness in her voice that got him, that made him finally break and move away from Steve, allowing Robin to rush to his side. 

“You won’t believe me,” Eddie said, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice with the way it trembled. 

He was sure they wouldn't believe it. If it even mattered, if they were even really here, if any of this was even real. 

He was still pretty convinced this was all just some form of divine punishment, and only happening in his own head, after all. 

It wasn’t about what happened to Chrissy. He knew they would believe that, they had once already, but whatever else was going on here? This deja vu flashback thing or whatever it was? They had no reason to trust he was telling the truth about the fact that he was dead– or had died temporarily? Or that this had all happened to him before. 

It was, admittedly, unbelievable. 

So, he made a choice. He didn't tell them that part. He told the same story he had the first time around and they in turn told him a very short history of the Upside Down. It didn’t hit so hard this time, since he’d already heard it all once before, but it was still wild to think about everything this group had been through. He couldn’t believe it’d all been happening right under his nose.

Despite himself, he watched Steve through most of the explanations. Eddie had been so focused on his own experience at the time that he hadn’t paid much attention to him after the attempted throat slashing. He looked dejected, sad, already resigned to the fact that the monsters he’d been protecting these kids from for years now were back, again. Eddie sympathized.

-

The week flew by in a blur of blood, sweat, and tears, events unfolding in the exact same way that he remembered, and he never said a word about it to anyone. 

He kept expecting it all to end somehow. 

On the rare occasion that he fell asleep,  he thought for sure he would wake up from this nightmare either back in his bed after having the longest most fucked up dream of his life, or somewhere– else, preferably on a fluffy cloud after having served his penance for petty crimes.

Unless god actually did hate the gays… then he was fucked. 

It wasn’t until he and Dustin were alone, after fortifying the trailer and getting his guitar set up that he decided– maybe he’d been an idiot to just keep going along with the script like this. It’d been days without so much as a hint of fire and brimstone, so either he'd been sold a bill of goods his whole life about what Hell would be like, or, this was really happening. 

Again. 

At this point, neither possibility was a particularly good one. If he’d been somehow sent back in time and given a second chance, he had absolutely screwed it up. 

Fuck it, he might as well tell Dustin now at least. See what happened.

“Alright, uh, listen, I have to tell you something– and I’m not sure you’re going to believe me but I swear I’m telling you the truth.”

Dustin laughed, bright and incredulous as he checked the plugs on the amp one last time. “After everything we’ve been through the past few days, and the shit I’ve seen over the last three years, do you really think there’s anything I wouldn’t believe?”

Ok, kid had a point. 

Eddie took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

Here goes nothing. 

“I’ve been through this before, all of it, with you guys. For a while I thought I was in Hell, y’know? Doomed to relive Chrissy’s death over and over again, and between you and me I’m still not totally sure that isn’t the case, but then you guys found me in that damn boathouse just like before, and everything else has happened exactly like I remember, and I-” 

His speech was cut short by Dustin screeching, “Are you serious right now?! You have to be fucking kidding me! I can’t believe you… you’re in a time loop and you didn’t say anything?!”

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, eyebrows raised up nearly to the bandana he had tied around his head. “Wait, you believe me?! Just like that?!”

Dustin put his hands on his hips, in a gesture that was eerily reminiscent of a certain babysitter that Eddie definitely hadn't developed the habit of staring at at every given opportunity. 

Not the time!

“I wouldn’t say, just like that.” Dustin said, snapping his fingers. “If it was anyone outside of the party I would think they were crazy, but this is you we’re talking about. And like I said, after everything? This is not that hard to swallow. I mean, why would you make something like that–”

Dustin stopped abruptly, his entire demeanor changing on a dime as if he’d just discovered something awful. Belatedly, Eddie realized his mistake.

“Eddie, why would you think you were in Hell? Did you… “ The kid trailed off, and when he spoke next his voice was thick with unshed tears. “Do we lose? Did you…die?”

Eddie sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, I didn’t think– I guess there’s no way to tell you I might be repeating time without admitting it. Yeah, I… died. As far as Vecna, I have no idea. I was gone before Steve, Robin, and Nancy got back.”

Before he could respond, the Walkie in Dustin’s hand came to life, with Robin’s voice crackling through the small speaker. “She’s in, move on to phase 3. Over.”

“Guess that’s it. Time’s up.” Eddie muttered.

Dustin bit his lip as he looked at Eddie, eyes questioning and full of fear.

Eddie shook his head, silently answering the unasked question. He didn’t want Dustin to tell them, or try and stop this. It was too late. He refused to risk the kid, or somehow make things worse by changing the plan this late in the game. 

Dustin squeezed his eyes closed and pressed the button on the handset to reply, “Copy that, initiating phase three. Over.”

Eddie gave the kid his best reassuring smile as he pulled the guitar strap up over his head and with shaking hands began to play, knowing there was no time to waste. 

-

Bleeding out wasn’t any more fun the second time around. 

Eddie had given it his all, fighting tooth and nail against those flying leeches, but there was no use. There were hundreds of them, and only one of him. Just as he had the first time he took off on that bike to lead the bats away, he’d known the fate he was resigning himself to. The difference this time was, he actually had a sliver of hope. 

If the impossible happened once, maybe it could happen again. 

“Sorry, kid.” Eddie said, choking back blood as he watched Dustin limp towards him. “Didn’t notice the leg last time–“ He paused, panting, trying to catch his breath. Talking had already become difficult. “Shouldn’t have cut the rope, s’not like it stopped you.” 

He forced a smile, trying so hard not to let it show on his face just how much pain he was in. Not that there was much point, the kid had eyes. He could surely see the red ruin Eddie’s body had become.

Dustin sobbed openly and it broke Eddie’s heart. 

“God damnit, Eddie!” He shouted, shaking his head and pounding the ground with his fist. “Promise me if you get another shot at this that you’ll tell me. Tell me as soon as you possibly can about the time loop. Please! We have to come up with another plan.”

Eddie wanted nothing more than to be able to scoop the boy into his arms and comfort him, might have tried anyway but he couldn't move. “What if you don’t believe me?” He choked out.

“I'm adopted,” Dustin blurted out through his sniffles. “My mom only told me last year. No one else knows, not even Steve, but… I trust you, Eddie. I’d believe you without it, but if you need to, tell me that and I’ll believe you.”

Eddie nodded, or tried to, and felt Dustin’s hand slip into his. 

“I love you, man”

“I love you too”

Thanks to @penny00dreadful for being the best beta, friend and cheerleader.

Shoutout also to @theheadlessphilosopher @withacapitalp and @hitlikehammers for the help and encouragement to do this.

Tagging a few friends that expressed interest or I think might be interested? I am ALWAYS happy to tag or remove - just let me know!

Taglist: @hitlikehammers @pearynice @cranberrymoons @thoroughlycollected @blubblesandink @finntheehumaneater @brbsoulnomming @estrellami-1 @hellion-child @mentallyundone @manda-panda-monium @spicysix @kikidoesfanfic @dreamwatch

STWG Prompt: I Couldn't Lose You

Happy birthday @hitlikehammers, you deserve the world!

AO3

“He’s dead.”

Something must have been wrong with his brain. Maybe all those hits to the head had finally caught up with him. Maybe his audio processing was fucked or he was hearing things.

He had to be.

Because there was no way in hell this doctor just told him Eddie was dead.

“He’s what?” Steve asked with a slight shake of the head, like that would dislodge whatever was making him hear this incorrectly.

“He’s dead, Mr. Harrington.” The doctor repeated, his fingers tensing around his clipboard.

Steve could feel the crease in his brow, his confusion was probably plain all over his face. 

It didn’t make any sense.

“How could he be dead? He can’t be dead.” He replied. “I only just saw him.”

There was no devastation, no heartbreak, no clawing grief and no screaming agony. 

Because it didn’t make any sense.

The doctor looked on in sympathy. “Mr. Munson took a very quick turn-”

“A turn of what?” Wayne snapped, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at this ‘doctor’. “How did he turn?”

Steve glanced behind the doctor to look into Eddie’s hospital room again. The empty bed, the crisp sheets, the quiet monitors. Flowers gone. Cards gone. Eddie’s stuff sitting in a chair near the door.

It was almost like he’d never been in there.

When did they have the time?

Steve and Wayne had only left his side for ten minutes. It was the first time Eddie had been left alone since he came into the hospital, half dead and bitten to hell.

And Steve and Wayne had come back to find a doctor waiting for them by the door.

A doctor that Steve didn’t recognise. In a town with less than 5,000 people.

“His fever got quite high-”

Wayne scoffed. “Eddie didn’t have no fever.”

“Sir.” The doctor sighed out, frustrated. “Your nephew was very sick. And gravely injured. Situations like these can turn fast.”

Steve and Wayne glanced at each other, the both of them seeing the same suspicion reflected in each other's face.

There had been no alert over the PA system. The nurses station hadn’t been scrambled. If Eddie had taken a sudden turn, if Eddie had died… a young twenty year old suddenly dropping dead would have had half the floor flooding in trying to save him.

Not to mention Steve was pretty sure that doctor, if he was even really a doctor, was breaking the Hippocratic Oath by telling him this information.

Steve wasn’t family, he had no right to that information. The doctor hadn’t even asked Wayne before he started talking, he just started talking.

Steve could be anybody. 

Something super fucked up was going on. They needed to find Eddie and they needed to find him fast. 

“I understand this must be very hard for you.” The doctor said with a solemn face. It was very convincing. He must have gone to acting school. “Would you like to see him?”

Steve’s mind screeched to a halt again.

“Excuse me?”

“He’s down in the morgue.”

Bullshit he’s down in the morgue. But Wayne’s face was remaining hard and with one curt nod, he began to follow the doctor down the hallway.

It only took a glance back for him to communicate that he wanted Steve to follow him, to come with them. Either as backup or as emotional support if it did turn out that Eddie was dead.

Which it wouldn’t.

Because it couldn’t.

Because he wasn’t fucking dead.

Steve also really didn’t like the idea of leaving this floor unmonitored. He just felt… there was something in the back of his head telling him that he needed to keep eyes up here.

As they approached the nurses station and by extension, the elevators, his saving grace turned the corner.

“Just one second.” Steve said to the two of them. “I need to talk to my girlfriend.” 

Wayne snapped his head over to him and when Steve nodded in Robin’s direction there was a moment of complete and utter bewilderment on his face before he masked it.

With a small nod, he sent Steve off and Steve could see all of the questions running through Wayne’s eyes but he didn’t have time. 

Robin’s eyes got wider and wider as he approached, opening his arms up for a hug and a weary, “Hey baby” before he pulled her into him, turning them so her back was to the doctor.

“Code Red. Eddie’s missing.” He whispered into her hair, keeping his nose buried into her neck to hide the movements of his lips. “They say he’s dead. We’re going down to the morgue. I need eyes up here.”

He just fucking hoped she’d be able to keep a straight face, that she’d get it, that she’d go along. 

Though he should have never doubted. 

Not for one second.

Robin was silent only for a moment before she ran a hand up and down his back with a little sombre nod. “Remember. Will’s body was found in the Quarry.” She whispered back.

Steve didn’t have time to figure that one out, Robin was untangling herself from him with a sad smile.

“I’m so sorry, honey. I’ll tell the kids.” 

She turned his head to kiss him on the cheek and then gave him a light push back towards Wayne.

Steve leaned against the elevator wall and he stared down at the floor. The three of them were carried down in silence, but Steve’s mind was whirring.

Was Robin suggesting there might be a body down there?

A fake Eddie? Made to look dead?

But how could he tell? How would he be able to tell?

From what he’d heard, Will’s fake body was like a clone of him. Hopper had only been able to find out it wasn’t actually him by cutting into him.

There was no way he’d be able to get close enough to cut in. He probably wouldn’t even be allowed to touch. They might try to keep him at a distance. 

And there was no way to warn Wayne about what might be coming. 

The doors dinged open and Steve was out of time. 

Down another hallway and through another set of metal doors, there was already a gurney out in the centre of the room covered in a white sheet, the shape of a body clear as day underneath, like they had been expecting them.

Despite, despite Steve knowing in his bones that that wasn’t Eddie. That that wasn’t his boy under there, the sight still sent his heart lurching.

He could feel the apprehension crawling through his skin and he almost asked them not to show him.

There were two doctors standing by the doors, almost like sentries, big and bulky. Their lab coats were too small on them and they were watching Steve and Wayne like a pair of bouncers.

The doctor they had travelled down with looked to Wayne and with his nod of approval, pulled the top of the sheet back.

Dark curly brown hair spilled over the side of the table. Skin so pale it was almost white in death glared across at them and it was Eddie.

It looked… it looked just like him. 

Wayne took a shuddering breath in, took a step closer and was stopped by a hand on the shoulder.

“Hey man.” Steve snapped, far too loud in the cold metal room, unable to keep his own emotions out of his voice. Because what if he had been wrong? “That’s his family. Get your fucking hands off him.”

The ‘doctor’ holding Wayne back glared at Steve like he was ready to disappear him under a black bag. 

“It’s alright son-”

“No, it is not alright.” If Steve needed to create a scene to get them their way, then Steve was going to create a fucking scene. “Do you know who my father is?” He asked, all but sticking his nose up in the air.

The corner of Wayne’s mouth ticked up ever so slightly. It made Steve’s skin crawl to invoke the status of a man he couldn’t fucking stand, but he needed to do something.

Steve wrenched the doctor's hand from Wayne’s shoulder and he wouldn’t be surprised if he got punched in the face for it, he was almost expecting it but the doctor who had led them down here spoke up.

“It’s- it’s okay, Vince.” He said, a little panicked, like he hadn’t really planned this far ahead and didn’t really know what to do in the face of Steve’s tantrum.

Wayne seized upon the opportunity to take a step closer and Steve followed in his shadow.

He had to know. 

He had to know if that was really his baby lying on that cold and impersonal gurney.

Steve turned his back on the two guards and while the doctor they had come down with watched Wayne like a hawk as he reached a hand out to brush Eddie’s hair away from his face, Steve took his opportunity.

He kept his movements out of sight of the guards behind him, and kept them small enough so they wouldn’t draw the eye of the other doctor in front of him. 

He slipped one of Eddie’s fingers into his hand through the sheet and twisted.

It went easily. Twisting around on itself without any resistance. 

There was no bone in there.

It was like it was just full of cotton.

It wasn’t Eddie.

It wasn’t Eddie.

Steve closed his eyes and felt the tension drain out of him.

But then he heard a sniffle to his left. 

Wayne.

Fuck, how was he gonna tell him?

How was he gonna get him out of this room so they could go find his boy?

They were running out of time.

“I have to go tell the kids.” Steve muttered, with as much sympathy as he could. 

Wayne looked at him, his watery eyes searching, almost offended that Steve wasn’t more upset until it seemed to hit him that there was a reason for it. 

Wayne searched his eyes again, asking a million, million questions, but he must have eventually settled on some kind of trust because he gave Steve a short nod before looking back down at the fake body, his gaze a little angrier than it had been.

Steve didn’t waste a second, couldn’t waste a second.

He turned and left the room as calmly as possible but as soon as he was out of sight of the guards, he ran as fast as possible without creating too much noise.

The ride on the elevator back up to Eddie’s floor was excruciatingly slow, everything was taking too long. Why was everything taking so long?

Eddie had to still be in the building somewhere.

They wouldn’t have had the time to take him out of the hospital completely, they would have needed the people, they would have needed to be sure no one saw them move him down to the ground floor.

The elevator dinged and the doors had barely started to open before Robin threw herself in, furiously jabbing at the button to take them back down.

“Rob, what the-”

“Lucas saw an ambulance pull into the ambulance bay from the wrong direction and it looks brand new, not like any of our usual rust buckets. Jonathan’s got the car running with Argyle standing by. Dustin and Mike think they’ve found the room he’s being held in downstairs but it’s locked.”

“Not for long it’s not.” Steve growled and Robin grinned at him.

“Thought you’d say that.” She plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out a handful of bobby pins. Steve was forever finding them lying around his car, she always had some on her.

“Perfect,” he said, taking them from her.

“I can’t believe this is how you’re finally gonna use the lockpicking skills Eddie taught you.”

“I can. It sounds like something out of one of his stories.”

Robin snorted and the doors opened. 

The hallway was thankfully deserted, except for Mike, standing at the end and waving them forward.

Steve and Robin followed him through the corridors until they ended up just outside the Ambulance Bay, Dustin hovering next to a closed door.

“In here, in here!”

“How do you know?”

“A nurse was talking to a janitor about why it was locked. He told her there were some chemicals being stored in there but you can’t store chemicals out here, there’s too many temperature variables and the weather-”

“That’s all we have to go off of?” Steve cut him off, but even so he still dropped to his knees and started to fit the pins into the lock.

“He’s in there, Steve. I know it. What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? Stop distracting me.”

“How do you know how to do that?”

“Enough questions, Roast Beef.” Robin pulled the brim of his hat down but then looked around and asked, “Where are the guards? Shouldn’t there be guards?”

“Erica had a seizure.”

“Erica had a what?!” Steve practically shouted, nearly losing his grip.

“Not a real one, obviously.” Mike sniffed. “But the guards were dressed as ambulance guys-”

“Ambulance guys.” Robin muttered.

“Yes. Ambulance guys and so they had to help. We screamed at them to help.”

Steve drowned them out, focusing all his attention on getting this fucking lock open. If it didn’t open in the next five seconds he was gonna break the fucking door down- 

He felt the lock catch and with a quick turn to the side, the door gave a little creak as it opened ever so slightly.

Steve was barely on his feet again before he burst into the room, being met with cold concrete and steel shelves and a hospital bed awkwardly wedged in between them all, no monitors, no tubes, nothing but a pale body lying in a thin hospital gown.

“Eddie.” Steve called, making his way across in less than two steps, bending down to scoop him up. He was fucking freezing and knocked out completely. “Eds?” 

He shook him just a little, hoping to get him to stir but Eddie didn’t stir, his head lolled against Steve’s arm and he was just dead weight. 

At least he was breathing.

“Is he okay?”

“Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Did they sedate him?”

He shoved his way out of the room, ignoring Dustin and Mike’s questions. 

“Where’s Jon parked?” He asked Robin, already heading towards the Ambulance Bay doors. “Can you take care of-” 

“We’ll get Wayne, we’ll get everyone else. He’s just around the corner.” Robin’s eyes went wide at the sound of footsteps running towards them. “Go!”

Steve took off. 

He’d thank Robin later, he owed her his life.

He clutched Eddie tight to him, shielding him, curved over him and nearly tripping over himself when he heard a door slam somewhere behind him and shouting echoing around him.

But then he saw the car.

Jonathan was behind the wheel and as soon as Steve turned the corner he started revving the engine, while Argyle threw the back door open, twisting over the passenger seat to get to it.

It was a little less than graceful, stuffing Eddie into the back seat and practically falling in on top of him as Jonathan took off, tearing out of the hospital with the door still open and Steve’s legs still hanging out. 

But they got away. 

They’d made it away.

For now.

Steve was able to pull himself fully inside, slamming the door closed behind him and cradling Eddie into his lap.

“Where am I going?!” Jonathan shouted back at him, one eye on the road, one eye in the rearview mirror.

There was no one following them so far.

“I don’t know! I don’t- The cabin!” Steve shouted back. “Get us to Hopper's cabin!”

“This is fuckin’ wild, dude.” Argyle whooped. “Born free!”

Eddie let out a soft little noise, rubbing his face into Steve’s shoulder and curling in on himself. His skin still felt like ice under Steve’s fingers.

“Stevie?”

Steve looked down at him, surrounding him as much as he could, rubbing up and down his arms trying to bring some warmth back in. “Yeah, it’s me baby. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

Eddie hummed against his neck. 

“They stole me.”

“And I stole you back.” He pressed his lips against Eddie’s forehead. “I’m not letting anyone or anything take you from me.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I don’t care. I couldn’t lose you. Not again. I couldn’t.”

Eddie grinned up at him. “You didn’t.”

“No,” Steve whispered back. “I didn’t.”

AO3

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else. 

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed. 

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right? 

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps. 

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him. 

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger. 

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender. 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts. 

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again. 

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope. 

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic. 

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested. 

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss. 

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life. 

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief. 

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute. 

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge. 

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own. 

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious. 

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats. 

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget. 

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

by theonly_fin

It wasn’t like Steve ceased to exist after he left Nancy in the bathroom at that Halloween party. So this is what happened to him.

——- Steve is a mess, upset, and really really drunk. Eddie was kind of just… there.

Words: 6947, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Billy Hargrove (mentioned), Nancy Wheeler (mentioned), Johnathan Byers (Mentioned)

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Meet-Cute kinda, Drinking, Underage Drinking, mentions of weed, Marijuana, Steve Harrington Has a Crush on Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington is Not Okay, Steve Harrington is questioning, halloween party, Excessive Drinking, Episode: s02e10 Trick or Treat Freak, Drug Dealer Eddie Munson, Period-Typical Homophobia, Steve Harrington’s Nail Bat, Steve Harrington’s House, Steve Harrington Needs Therapy

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

(one day I’m) gonna cut it clear

have this sad stuff I wrote last night to try and cheer myself up :)

(Sorry for any mistakes this was copied and pasted from photos of notebook proper :/)

TW: mentions of past trauma and paternal abuse

The first time that Eddie had cut his hair short, he had been eight and messing around with his mom's fancy brass scissors—the ones where the blades were a beak She used him to cut string from her quilts, and to trim his uncle’s hair when the man wasn't out in his boat. Eddie had used them to chop his hair off, watching The long brown curls fall onto the rug that his dad had bought as a wedding present for his mom.

It was rough and scratchy. Probably cheap, too. 

He sat there on his knees, one hand curled around the scissors, the other feeling through his choppy strands, staring down at the loose hair on the floor.

His dad had hit him for that, grabbing him by the arms and shoving him into his room with a sharp “the hell were you thinking, girl?” before he had locked the door.

Eddie had cried all afternoon, begging to no one, because he was sorry and he didn’t want his hair short anymore. Because he had cut it to stop people from calling it pretty but he knew they still would. Because he didn’t want to be trapped in the suffocating Georgia summer heat that was seeping in through the windows anymore.

When his mom had come home from Auntie Lacy's house—not his real aunt, but she got sad if Eddie didn't call her that, seeing as how she was close enough to family as is—he still remembered how broken she had sounded, finding Eddie laying on the wood floor in just his underwear, tucked away in a corner, panting.

She had drawn him a cold bath, hushing him softly when he complained about the cool water.

“My baby,” She had whispered, her accent seeping through her words. It wasn't like the southern one that she put on for his dad—some kind of Eastern European that he couldn't remember. She never talked about where she came from

"Your hair was so pretty.”

Eddie had turned to press his face into his mom’s palm, whimpering, “Don’t want it short anymore. M’sorry, mama, m’sorry.”

She had fixed his hair after that—made it look more even and neat. She had let him curl up in her lap afterwards, the bird scissors on the coffee table and the chopped strands gone from the rug. Her thin fingers pet through his hair—but there really wasn’t anything to pet through anymore, just gentle touches smoothed over his scalp, kisses pressed to the lop of his head where he could nearly feel her lips.

"It will grow back, iubirea mea," She assured him, rocking him in her arms as his fingers dug into the folds of her white dress. She smelled like cinnamon and sunscreen, and that incense that Auntie Lacy always burned. "It will grow back, Edith.”

"Eddie," He had whispered, his words unsure and choked as he closed his eyes and waited for her to hit him—to lock him back in his room with his bolted windows and stiff mattress.

But she just kissed his hair again, taking nis hand and rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.

"Eddie," she agreed, holding him tighter when he sobbed and nodded, her fingers soft and warm against his. “My sweet Eddie. My baby." 

The second time his hair was cut he was thirteen. He had cried the whole way to the shop, gripping at the hair that fell just past his shoulders, like if he held on tight enough, it wouldn't have to go away.

“Stop crying,” his dad had snapped, his hands tight on the wheel of his Chevy truck. "If you wanna be a boy so bad, then fuckin’ act like one. Gonna look like one soon, too.”

He pulled Eddie out of the car. “This’ll show you. I ain’t raise my girl to be no fuckin’ queer,” he spat. “That was all that bitch’s doin’, ain’t it? Good thing she’s gone.”

“Don’t talk about mom like that,” Eddie sobbed, barely forcing the words out before he had stumbled backwards, face stinging and red from where his dad had hit him.

“She ain’t your mama no more. Ain’t that right, girl? Now fuckin’ get in there and tell the lady you want it all gone, or I ain’t letting you out of your room for a week,” his dad threaten, grabbing the collar of Eddie’s shirt. “A fucking week, you hear?”

That was the day that Eddie had left with Wayne for Indiana. His dad—no, Al, he wasn’t Eddie’s fucking dad anymore—hadn’t cared that Eddie had left. He had probably told all of his drinking buddies that “the other bitch is finally dead,” just so no one who might miss him in the town would go looking and bring him back. It would have only been Auntie Lacy. He still missed her sometimes.

Wayne hadn’t minded that Eddie didn’t want to wear the dresses or the skirts that he had packed from Georgia—took to buying him jeans when he had the money for something extra.

He had saved up for two years, working extra shifts and on holidays, so that when Eddie turned sixteen he could take him to the doctors and get him the stuff that made his voice drop. Eddie didn’t remember what it was called—hadn’t been able to hear the doctor over the ringing in his years from how hard his jaw was clenched as he tried not to cry in front of her and Wayne.

“Gonna get you fixed,” Wayne had said on the ride back to the trailer, and Eddie had laughed, but it sounded more like a sob.

“M’not a dog, Wayne.”

He had let Wayne do the shots, since anytime he tried to do it himself, his hands would snake too much.

“Haven't even done it yet, boy," Wayne muttered, his face annoyed, but his tone soft and sympathetic. "Just breathe."

Eddie did, but he had still flinched away again, just one more time.

The third time it was cut would be soon, if Eddie could just force himself to fucking man up and do it. He had just driven back from the antique shop down the road, bought those scissors he had seen nestled in between the old watercolor tins full of white chalk sticks and the black and white photos of men in long coats and hats—women with their hair up in a portrait studio, loggers standing on the planks stuck into trees as they worked, children sat on stools and chairs with dead-eyes.

They were bird scissors, brassy-brown and shining, still sharp. Like his mom used to have.

He looked out at the trailers he drove past. Two mail boxes until home. His stuff was in the back of his van, all the important stuff anyway, packed away into three boxes. Three.

And then he was home, into the house and then to the bathroom. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. And maybe he was crying. He was so fucking sick of crying.

His arms ached as he stretched the scars to reach up and grab a strand of hair, cutting. It was only an inch or two off the bottom, on a piece that he could easily tuck away and hide, but he still broke down—dropping the scissors and sobbing into his hands as he sank to the bathroom tiles on the floor.

He didn't want to cut his hair, but he had to. And he didn't know why he had to, which made him cry harder—hysterical sobs and gasps that no one but the nearly-empty shampoo bottles strewn sideways on the drain on the shower floor could hear.

He sounded like he was dying.

Maybe he was.

He Knew what it felt like to die — to have the skin ripped away from his insides, his body bloody and aching.

This hurt worse

It hurt worse than the hell he had been through.

It hurt worse than hearing Steve cry and break over him in the hospital, when his body was too sore to move—to cradle him gently like his mom used to do, brush a hand over his hair and whisper gentle names in a language that he didn’t know—a quiet "just breathe, my baby. Lucrul meu dulce. You can be sad, but don't let it choke you. You can cry, but don't let it make you forget how to live. How to breathe. How to smile."

Eddie pulled himself up, dragging himself out of the bathroom and over to the phone on the wall in the kitchen.

He spun the rotary, hearing it whir and click after each number. A number he had whispered to himself night after night until he was sure he wouldn't forget it. But now his brain was fogged as his breath caught on a whimper, and he couldn't remember if it ended in a six or a nine.

Six. He spun to a six and watched it move back, the phone gripped in both hands as it rang.

“Hello?” And Eddie sobbed again at the sound of Steve's voice.

"Hey," he choked out, willing his voice To be level and his breathing to be calm, but to no avail.

‘Baby," Steve breathed, and god, Eddie didn't think it was ever possible for him to grow tired of hearing Steve call him that. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Eddie shook his head as an instinct, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw set, strained words coming out as he spoke again. "Need you to come over. Want to cut my hair.”

"Your hair?" Steve parroted back, his voice unbelievably soft, so soft that it made Eddie's chest ache a bit inside.

"Yeah."

Steve didn't ask why, even though he knew that Eddie's hair was important to him. He did offer to do it for Eddie—being the one out of the two of them who was more knowledgeable on the subject—but Eddie declined, saying that he needed to be the one to do it himself.

“I just need you to be here when I do it," Eddie whispered. He would have asked Wayne to sit with him, but Wayne was at work, and Eddie wasn't supposed to bother him unless it was an emergency.

He knew that Wayne would have come straight home if he had called to ask, though.

“I’ll leave now, alright?" Steve whispered. “Ten minutes, You go rest, get yourself a drink. Whatever you need to do baby, then I'll be there. Promise.”

“Okay" Eddie whispered, and even though Eddie wanted a reason to procrastinate this further, he hung up the phone, listening to the dial-tone sound off for a few minutes before shuffling over to the living room and pressing his face into a scratchy pillow. 

He tried to calm his breathing while he waited for Steve.

Should I make a part two? Maybe?? If you guys want??

Permanent taglist: @anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @here4thetrama @goodolefashionedloverboi

by smithereen

Steve doesn’t back down from anything. Not monsters, not an argument, not even a guy hitting on him. No matter how hard Eddie pushes, he hasn’t found anything that can make Steve blink.

Words: 2541, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Additional Tags: Dungeons and Dragons as Foreplay, Bets & Wagers, Gay Chicken, and they were ROOMMATES

don't you forget about me (part six)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)

Steve allows himself a brief mental breakdown in the shower when he gets home. He lets the water mix with his tears as he curls his arms around himself and wishes with everything he is that they were Eddie’s. There’s nothing he wouldn’t give right now just to be held by him again, just to feel Eddie’s arms around him one more time. All it took was a tiny kiss on the back of his hand for Steve’s skin to remember just how much it missed that feeling. Now Steve’s entire body craves Eddie’s touch, and he shakes in its absence like an addict in withdrawal. 

Then he puts himself back together, gets dressed and styles his hair and heads off to work. 

They’d defeated Vecna before he could split the world into pieces or whatever his diabolical plan had been. So while Steve’s whole world may have been torn apart, while Steve’s whole world lays bruised and bandaged and amnesic in a hospital bed, the rest of the world carries on none the wiser. The rest of the world still rents VHS tapes and has movie nights and date nights and no fucking clue that they were seconds away from being dragged down into a hell dimension a couple weeks ago, so Family Video is still open for them. Fuck that. 

“You’ve gotta handle the customers today because if someone starts asking me stupid questions I can’t promise I won’t snap at them,” Steve tells Robin as he drives them to their shift. 

“Aw, but it’s so funny when you snap at them,” Robin quips. 

“Robin.” He gives her his best I’m so fucking serious look. 

Her humor dries up immediately and she nods solemnly. “Alright, yeah. I got it.” 

Steve sighs, pulling into the parking lot. “Thank you.” 

He busies himself with cataloging and reshelving and rewinding returns while Robin takes over the customer service part of the job. It’s mindless - mind-numbing - the monotony of the tasks exactly what Steve needs to dull out the thoughts in his brain and distract himself from the way the back of his hand still tingles from Eddie’s kiss. 

When the afternoon rush dies down after a few hours and the store is all but empty, Robin sidles up next to him where he’s putting away a stack of fantasy films. “Hey.” 

Her voice cuts through his focus and nearly startles Steve out of his skin. “Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Sorry.” She grabs half the stack of tapes and starts helping him shelve. “Just wanted to check in with you, we haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk today. How are things going with Eddie?” 

“It’s fine. He’s fine,” Steve grumbles, glaring down at the tape in his hands. It’s got a dragon on the cover. He thinks Eddie would probably like it. “He still doesn’t remember me, but he’s starting to see me as a friend now at least, so.” Steve shoves the movie into its spot on the shelf. “That’s something, right?” 

Robin raises her eyebrows at the sharp bitterness in his tone and how forcefully he put the tape away. “Okay. Yeah. So I see we’re in the anger stage of grief now,” she comments. 

Steve scoffs. If this is a stage of grief, he thinks he’s been going through them in the wrong order, or maybe all at once - a neverending ebb and flow of denial and anger and depression all swirled together into one fucked up cocktail of grief. “I’m not angry,” he says, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m just tired- emotionally burnt out, I don’t know. I just miss him and it’s not fair and I’m so fucking sick of feeling like this.” 

“Yeah, that’s anger, Steve,” Robin says, infuriatingly blunt. She slides the last tape in her stack into its place and then leans against the shelf. “Did something else happen to set this off, or are you just generally overwhelmed?” 

Steve sags against the shelf beside her. “Both. I don’t know. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid. He just- he kissed my hand this morning, that’s it, and it wrecked me.” 

“He what?” Robin questions, curiosity widening her eyes. 

“He kissed my hand,” Steve repeats. He sighs and adds context, gives her a full recount of the events of that morning.

“Oh my god?!” Robin practically squawks as she backhands Steve’s arm, which is definitely not the comforting words or touch he needs from her right now. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Dude. He was flirting with you,” she tells him, eyes even wider now like she’s trying to explain to him something obvious. 

“What? No.” Steve shakes his head, looking at her like she’s crazy. “He definitely wasn’t.” 

“Ughhh,” Robin lets out a long, dramatic groan, dragging her hands down her cheeks and pulling down her eyes. “I cannot do this with you two again. He totally was.” She drops her hands from her face so she can use them to illustrate her point as she starts to lists off, “First of all, he literally called you daddy-” 

“As a joke,” Steve interrupts to protest. 

“Yeah, a flirtatious one,” Robin retorts. She continues, “Then he said you have a magic touch, and then his heart literally started racing for no reason-”

“Because I was stressing him out!” 

“Only after his heart rate went up in the first place, which, as I was saying, was for no reason other than the fact that you were smiling at him and holding his hand-” 

“That literally doesn’t-” 

“And then, he kissed your hand - pressed his lips to your skin - and told you that you were his good luck charm,” Robin finishes, looking smug like she’s said something novel and not just completely reiterated exactly what Steve had just told her only with more emphasis. 

He sighs wearily. “Your point?” 

“He likes you, dingus,” she says, whacking his arm again. “Don’t you get it? His mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.”

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. A lump rises in his throat, a rush of jumbled emotions chafing against his already frayed edges. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I think you should tell him what you were to each other,” Robin suggests. 

“Right, yeah, okay, sure,” Steve scoffs, somewhere between sarcastic and hysterical. “And while we’re at it, I think you should tell Vickie that you like her. Because telling people things like that is so easy, isn’t it?” 

Robin gives him a withering stare. “That is not the same thing at all, and you know it.”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees. “Because I know Eddie, and he would not take that news well. He already gets a little weird whenever I seem to know too much about him - if I tell him I know him biblically too-” 

“Ew, don’t tell him like that!” 

“Doesn’t matter if I tell him like that; I say we’ve been together for 9 months, he’s going to assume we’ve-” 

“God, okay, I get it!”

“See? It would freak him out,” Steve concludes, crossing his arms. “Even if he does…like me again or whatever, he definitely wouldn’t anymore and it would just generally make him uncomfortable. So I can’t tell him. I just have to keep waiting for him to remember on his own, even though it’s fucking killing me,” he says, his voice harsh as he tries to keep it from breaking. “It’s what’s best for Eddie.” 

“Steve-” Robin starts, frowning like she’s only just beginning to realize she may have pushed him too far, but whatever it is she was going to say is cut off by the ringing of the bell that announces the front door being open. 

“Customers.” Steve points his chin towards the couple who just walked in, a bitter jealousy boiling in his stomach as he watches them walk hand in hand towards the romance aisle. It’s not fucking fair. He shoves himself away from the shelves and mutters, “I’m taking my break.”

He stalks to the breakroom, closes the door, and sinks to the floor with his back against it. The tears in his eyes feel like they’re made of acid, like they would carve tracks into his skin if they were to spill down his cheeks. He wraps his arms around himself again. The thoughts in his head are made of acid too, bitter and burning and cursing everyone who gets to enjoy their lover's touch while he suffers without his. 

Steve’s brain feels corroded, corrupted. “He likes you,” Robin’s words echo there too, “his mind may not remember still, but his heart is starting to.” Would Eddie touch him now if he asked? Would he trace his fingers across Steve’s skin, kiss more than just the back of his hand? Steve digs his own fingers into his sides. He feels gross, he feels rotten. It wouldn’t be right to ask that of Eddie without him knowing the truth, to take advantage of him like that. It wouldn’t be the same, anyways. The superficial touch of a boy with the beginnings of a crush is not the tender lover’s caress that Steve craves. 

That is if Robin is even right about Eddie redeveloping feelings. Which she probably isn’t.

Steve’s just being stupid and selfish again. He wants to remove his brain from his skull so he can stop thinking, tear his heart from his chest so he can stop feeling; both so burned and decayed he thinks if he held them in his hands they would dissolve and crumble to dust and ash and sludge between his fingers. 

Fifteen minutes pass, and Steve forces himself to be fine. He peels himself off the breakroom floor and returns to work, continues the tedious tasks that he hopes will numb him out again. 

Robin catches his eye from across the room where she’s sorting a customer’s cash at the register. I’m sorry, her expression says, I didn’t mean to make you upset. 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head and a small smile. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, his own expression reassures her. You meant well. I’m not mad at you. 

They don’t talk about Eddie again that day. The next time there’s a lull in customers and they’re able to chat again, Steve tells Robin he honestly just needs a distraction right now, and he lets her ramble on about Vickie and band and school and her impending graduation and the movie she watched last night and whatever other random thoughts are bouncing around that hyperactive head of hers. Her voice fills in the cracks in Steve’s brain, keeps it from falling apart completely. She’s always been good at that, and he’s grateful for it. 

Then he drops Robin off after work and he drives away alone in silence because all the songs on the radio are love songs, and he drives back to the hospital - back to the source of his grief again and again like some sort of fucking masochist - because Eddie needs him. Because Steve loves him.

~

Eddie cannot help the way his face all but beams the second Steve walks back into his room that evening. “There you are, Stevie! How was work?”

Steve returns the smile, genuine, but there’s a tiredness to it. “It was alright. Bit boring, really, uneventful. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Eddie says, adding with a jaunty grin, “All the better now that you’re back.” 

It comes out a bit more flirtatious than he intended, but thankfully Steve just laughs it off. “Alright, smoothtalker,” he scoffs through a chuckle as he takes his usual seat by the bed. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

“Oh, the actual doctor came in to talk to me today. Good news, don’t worry,” Eddie tells him, the last bit tacked on quickly before that concerned crease can appear between Steve’s brows. “She says I’m healing up nicely, and I might be able to be discharged soon. A few more days’ observation and then they're gonna see how well I can actually move since, you know, the bats chewed through half the muscles in one of my legs. But, yeah, I could be out of here by the end of next week.” 

“That’s great, Eddie!” Steve brightens. 

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles. “I can’t wait to be somewhere familiar, feel normal again. Or, well,” he amends, smile falling a little as he realizes, “as normal as I can feel given that I’ll probably be walking with a limp for the rest of my life and be covered in nasty scars all over.” 

A strange expression crosses Steve’s face then, something happy and sad and sympathetic all at once, and his voice is soft as he says, “We’ll match.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “What?”

“The scars,” Steve clarifies. “The bats got me too, you know. I was lucky, it wasn’t as bad for me as it was for you, but, uh- yeah, we’ll match. See?” He stands and pulls his shirt up a bit. 

Eddie’s heart rate immediately kicks up again, blood growing warm, as his eyes snap to Steve’s stomach, to skin and muscle and body hair and- oh. Two giant, jagged red scabs cover Steve’s sides, the edges fading into skin bumpy and pink and white with the beginnings of scarring. The bite on Eddie’s own side twinges in sympathy. “That’s-” He swallows back the word hot, and breathes out instead, “Holy shit.” Without really thinking, he finds himself reaching out to skim his fingers over the ridges of Steve’s scars. 

Steve gasps - full body shudders - at the touch, and Eddie instantly pulls his hand back, afraid he’s hurt him. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“No, it’s fine,” Steve manages, though it sounds a bit shaky. “You didn’t hurt me, I just- I wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eddie tentatively starts to reach back out; Steve nods. He slowly traces the outline of the wound again, every uneven edge, feeling the evidence of hurt and the evidence of healing and the ripple of each breath Steve takes - breaths that echo in the quiet that falls between them. Eddie doesn’t realize just how intimate this silence has become as he runs his hands across Steve’s skin, until he glances up to find Steve just…watching him. It’s impossible to tell exactly what emotion is behind his eyes, but it’s intense and it’s devastating, and Eddie suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Uh-” A nervous laugh stutters out of him. He rescinds his touch. “Twin scars, huh?” he remarks, cracking a crooked smile and attempting to change this strange, suffocating energy with a joke. “Hell of a matching tattoo. Next time let’s just exchange friendship bracelets like normal people do, yeah?”

Steve huffs, a short burst of laughter that escapes from his chest like it’s been punched out of him. “Since when have you ever done anything like a normal person?” he teases in return as he pulls his shirt back down.

Just like that, blown away by Steve’s playful smile, the weird tension lifts. Eddie grins back. “Alright, fair point.” He adds, “Those are gonna be some pretty metal scars, Stevie.”

“Not as metal as yours,” Steve says warmly, settling back in his chair and kicking one leg over the other. “You’re the one that literally survived death, Ed. It doesn’t get any more metal than that.” 

“Now who’s the smoothtalker?” Eddie smirks, and he hopes he isn’t blushing. Steve Harrington calling him metal with so much pride and affection in his voice is doing numbers on his heart. Curse this stupid fucking crush.

Steve eyes divert briefly to the heart monitor, which has not once calmed down since the second he’d lifted up his shirt, and Eddie is so sure that he knows then, that he’s finally made the connection between what’s got Eddie’s heart racing, but he doesn’t say anything, just laughs it off again, smiling like everything’s completely normal as he looks back at Eddie and rolls his eyes and mutters in return, “Shut up.” 

“Make me,” Eddie mumbles, not quick enough to bite back the words before they fall from his mouth, only managing to lower his voice enough that maybe Steve didn’t hear him. 

“What?” 

“TV?” Eddie grabs the remote, pretends like that’s what he’d said in the first place. Real smooth. 

“Oh, sure.” Steve shrugs. If he noticed Eddie’s slip, he gives no indication of it. 

Eddie turns on the TV and they spend the next hour or so laughing and making fun of the bad acting on the show that’s playing. Easy, normal, platonic. Eddie’s heart rate stabilizes, remaining even so long as he doesn’t look too long at Steve’s smile. 

When sleep starts lapping at Eddie’s consciousness, he doesn’t fear it anymore. Silently, he holds out his hand, and Steve takes it, wrapping him in the warmth and protection that allows Eddie to let himself drift off undaunted. 

And in his dreams his hands skate across Steve’s skin again.

(part seven coming soon)

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“So.” Jeff starts, voice rising over the Dio cassette Eddie put on, volume down low for once. It makes good background noise. Filling the space of Eddie’s bedroom. Not that it’s not full already.

“Okay so we’re doing this?” Eddie asks, turning around from where he was sorting through the pile of stuff on top of his dresser, stray D20 in hand. He flings himself onto his bed, bouncing on the mattress. He’s looking at Jeff with a shit-eating grin, although it’s not unkind.

“Doing what?” he replies, frowning, turning from where he’s sat at the small desk by the door. There’s not a lot of space, not a lot of wiggle room, so Jeff is immediately faced with Eddie staring at him knowingly from the mattress. They’ve known each other since middle school, since Eddie moved into town, and he can tell with just a glance that Eddie is seeing straight through him. 

It’s only fair, he concedes, he saw straight through Eddie.

“This thing you can’t stop thinking about, but haven’t told anyone. That thing?” Eddie starts, resting his head in his hands. It almost looks like he’s going to start kicking his feet like a girl in a sleepover. The kind of scenes you see in movies. All cliche and shit. “We’re talking about it?”

“Yeah.” Jeff sighs. Takes a deep breath. He looks over at Eddie, watches as his best friend raises an eyebrow, smiles, silently prompts him along.

“You know your horrific crush on Steve Harrington?” he eventually starts, fingers absently tapping at the wood of the chair he’s claimed. He can feel it swirling in his chest. The words, the feelings, all the stuff he had been running through his mind. Eddie won’t be mean about it, of course he won’t, but there’s going to be gentle ribbing and he’s really not sure if he’s ready for it. Maybe with just the two of them it'll be okay. Eddie gets it, after all, maybe better than anyone. 

Eddie just snorts. “I’m aware, yes.”

“And how I teased you for being into the preppiest jock in Hawkins?” He adds, resisting the urge to tap his foot, bounce his knee, run his socked foot along the carpeted floor.

“Also, yes.” 

“Well.” Jeff says, and he grimaces. Leaves the sentence there. He doesn’t need to finish it just yet, Eddie will pick up the pieces. Slot them into place.

He sees the exact second Eddie gets it. Watches his eyes light up as it clicks. The glee on his face is evident, the bastard. It's fucking radiating out of him, leaking out through his pores. 

“No,” Eddie gasps, scrambling to sit up on his bed, inching towards Jeff. He's gripping the sheets, the tan floral fabric strained between his fingers. “No fucking way. You have a crush?”

He just nods, humming in affirmation. 

“Well who is it?” Eddie asks, bouncing in place. He's giddy, fidgeting and not quite staying still. “C’mon, tell me. Are they more attainable than Steve Harrington, at least?”

“On one hand they're more attainable,” Jeff starts, gesturing with his hands. “Because, y'know, straight.” 

Eddie hums, nodding, eyes wide. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he was an incorrigible gossip at heart. Always wanting to know things about people. Listening when Wayne talks about the guys from the plant, picking up rumours from people who bought from him, slowly learning what's happening in the trailer park. Who was sleeping with who, who doesn't do their job, who was moving in.

So when Jeff hinted he had a crush? Eddie was all over it. He was also his best friend, so that helped.

“But on the other hand they're less attainable,” Jeff says, taking a deep breath. Bracing himself for whatever dramatic reaction Eddie was going to spout. “Because it's Chrissy Cunningham.” 

His traitorous heart leaps in his chest the second he says her name. A smile threatens to creep across his face. Chrissy Cunningham. Out of all the cheerleaders, she was the one who stood out. She was cute, and kind, with a smile that lit up the room. The curl of her bangs that framed her face, the way she matches her eyeshadow to her scrunchie. Jeff couldn’t stop staring at her. Couldn’t stop noticing things about her. 

Eddie looks positively giddy, bouncing on the worn springs of his mattress, grinning like the devil himself. Wide eyes and bared teeth, ringed fingers gripping his sheets even tighter. He’s electric, he’s vibrating out of his skin. If he were wearing his wallet chain, Jeff would hear him jingling. 

“Yes!” He exclaims, hair swinging around his face as he moves. Not unlike he’s headbanging. “Jeffery! Jefferson! Join me in Hell!”

Jeff can’t help but concede a laugh, ducking his head, almost pressing his chin to his chest. Hiding a smile, almost shy. It’s kind of nice, having it out in the open now. Having Eddie welcome him into the world of crushes on the most popular kids in school. 

“The fucking karma is so juicy right now Jeffington, oh my god! Eat shit!” Eddie adds, excitedly tapping his feet. He bounces back onto his bed, patting a spare spot of mattress beside him. “But I’m just too excited, Jesus Christ, you get it now!”

“I fucking get it now,” Jeff laughs, getting up off the chair and flopping onto the bed beside Eddie. Feeling the worn sheets beneath his back, looking up at the yellowed ceiling of the trailer. “There’s no way in Hell anything is going to happen, I know this, but fuck, she’s the cutest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, says you and half of Hawkins High,” Eddie replies, laughing, looking over at Jeff, crossing his legs underneath him. 

“Like you’re one to judge, ‘Mr I have a crush on Steve Harrington,’ the most popular guy in school. Even him stopping throwing those parties didn't make people hate him.” Jeff laughs, gently shoving at Eddie, moving him towards the edge of the bed. “You call him an asshole and then turn around and daydream about his laugh, or his eyes, or his hair.”

“Listen,” He retorts, splaying his hands out when he talks. “I am but a humble homosexual, and even I can’t deny the fact that that preppy, douchey, jock is a fucking smokeshow.”

“What?” Jeff laughs. “You want him to slap your ass and hook up with you in the locker room? Woo you with all his dumb jock shit?”

“Literally, yes,” Eddie laughs, flopping down onto his bed now next to Jeff, the corner of his mouth pulling up into a grin as Jeff snorts. Locks eyes with his best friend, and lets his gaze soften a bit. “But tell me about Chrissy, how did this happen?”

Jeff sighs, and is only a little embarrassed at how wistful it sounds. His stomach swoops, organs melting into something soft and gooey as he paints her in his minds eye. As he pictures her. 

“I just,” He starts, and then stops. Sighs again. “I always noticed Chrissy, always thought she was pretty — because y’know, cheerleader, it's a given — but I didn’t think much further than that.” 

“Until?” Eddie asks, drawing out the word. He nudges Jeff's leg with a socked foot.

“Until I held open a door for her one time,” he sighs, giving into Eddie's prompting. “And she giggled, and thanked me, and it sort of hit me just how much I wanted to kiss her.” 

Eddie fucking yelps, grabbing and shoving at Jeff's shoulder. He laughs along with him, his energy infectious. Let's himself move along with the motions, shoving back at Eddie, bedsprings creaking underneath the pair of them. A part of him absently wonders how much of this Wayne can hear. Raising Eddie, he's probably used to it — the noise. The energy. “Jeff, you sly dog!” 

“I didn't actually kiss her,” Jeff laughs. “I just thought about it.” 

“Oh I bet you thought about it,” Eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows, continuing to grip and shove at Jeff's arm. 

“Oh shut up,” Jeff laughs. “Like you're one to judge.” 

“Oh, I'm not judging,” he replies, stopping his shoving so they're just resting on his bed together. Hair splayed out across the mattress, fingers absently picking at his sheets. “You remember the things I've said to you about Steve.” 

“I do, yes.” 

“But,” Eddie says, rolling over onto his side, propping himself up and looking down at Jeff. “We’re not talking about how much I’ve talked about wanting to suck Steve’s dick right now.”

Jeff snorts.

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jeff exhales, the air leaving his lungs softly, as he lets himself melt a little further into Eddie’s mattress. It’s easy, here with Eddie. His best friend, whom he knows everything about and knows everything about him in return. “I see Jason hold her hand as they walk through the halls, and hold her books for her. One time I saw them at a movie date together at The Hawk when I was out with my parents, and I want that.”

Eddie makes a noise, low and soft, as he looks over at Jeff. 

“I’ll never get it, not with her, but oh man,” he adds. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I get it.” Eddie adds, voice still soft and low. “I know I talk about how hot Steve is, but I saw him and that Wheeler chick in the halls. How he’d swing her round and kiss her.”

It sort of hits him, just then, just how much Eddie wants this as well. Wants soft kisses, and romantic gestures. Intimate dates and someone happy to see him. But he can’t be seen wanting things he’ll never get. It hurts too much. 

“When we get out of Hawkins,” Jeff says simply. “We’ll get this. We’ll find people who find our metal music and shitty garage band endearing. You’ll find someone who wants to kiss you in the halls.”

Eddie snorts, but he’s smiling sort of bittersweetly while he does it. “And you’ll bag yourself a cheerleader.”

Jeff smacks Eddie’s side, waving his arm out half-heartedly. They stay like that, sitting in the silence, chilling on Eddie’s bed together. It’s nice. 

“So we agree we’re not telling Gareth about this?” Jeff says, propping himself up to look at Eddie.

“Oh we’re absolutely not telling Gareth about this. '' Eddie replies automatically. “He’ll be so annoying about it.”

“One day he’ll get a crush on a prep,” Jeff replies, smiling. “And then we’ll tell him.”

“The Corroded Coffin curse?” Eddie laughs. “Getting a crush on a prep?”

“Definitely,” he replies. “First you, now me. Frank’s next, and then Gareth is going to eat his words about those hot metal chicks he definitely has a crush on.”

“Who are definitely real, and absolutely not just models in magazines he jerks off too,” Eddie laughs, and it’s nice. Sharing this. Sharing this with someone who gets it. It’s not just that their crushes are preps, or jocks. It’s that their crushes are popular, and hot, and people who are never going to look at them twice. 

Jeff laughs, an exhale of air, and nudges his foot against Eddie’s. 

artset for You were not born here (but this is where you belong)

Story by @fabelds-blog for @steddiebang Art by @artgroves Rating: M Fandom: Stranger Things Relationships: Eddie Munson / Steve Harrington Word Count: 40K Tags: Canon AU, slow burn

Summary: In the months after the Starcourt fire, Eddie Munson takes on three new challenges: finishing his torturous summer assignment, running Reefer Rick’s operation, and his renewed crush on a reformed Steve Harrington.

On AO3