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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Feel the Heat Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.7k words | NSFW | afab!Reader | Shameless Smut Content warnings: Poly!Reader, demon heats (vaguely mentioned), rough sex, marking, demon forms mentioned (Lucifer, Levi, Satan), facesitting, possessiveness/jealousy, consensual somnophilia. A/N: Read the other Feel the Heat fics: Royals Edition | Newspaper Club Edition.

It’s tempting to make a joke about how the demon brothers’ cycles in the House of Lamentation are in sync, because it’s true. They’re like dominoes - once the first piece falls, the others fall shortly after.

Even though they don’t like to talk about it, you’ve learned enough about demon heat cycles to spot the symptoms. In the days leading up to their heats, some of them (Asmo and Beel) are more aggressive and pick petty fights; some of them (Levi and Belphie) are even more withdrawn than usual while they start to nest; and the others (Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan) pretend it’s not happening and try to carry on normally, like they have something to prove.

You’re finishing some simple meal prep in anticipation of long, tiring days ahead. They’re going to be too distracted to cook, and you’re going to be too exhausted to do it for them. There’s cold sandwiches and bowls of Hellfire chili ready until the worst of it passes. You don’t mind doing this for them now; you know they’ll take care of you later.

You head back to your room and notice when the mood inside the house shifts. Even you can sense that something has suddenly changed. It’s like there’s a storm brewing around you; the temperature rises, and the air crackles with anticipation. The brothers are scattered throughout the house but it’s unusually quiet.

The pieces have fallen and you know they’re all waiting for you. The only thing left to decide is, who do you visit first?

LUCIFER

Lucifer hangs onto the barest threads of control and propriety even in his heats, and only when you’re naked and willing beneath him does he finally let his instincts take over.

He’s not usually rough with you - not at first, and not unless you beg for him to fuck you harder, or faster. He overwhelms you with his presence until all you know and see and feel is him. He cages you between his arms and grinds his cock into you while his wings twitch at his back. His body is heavy but comforting, and you know he is both protecting and possessing you in your vulnerable state.

He brushes his lips against your skin and muffles his groans into your neck. When your walls flutter around his cock and squeeze him like a vice, he sucks on your pulse point. The friction of his hips rocking against you teases your clit until pleasure sweeps through you like a wave coming onto shore: it’s pleasant and beautiful, but it’s not enough - for either of you.

If you stare into his crimson eyes and beg him for more, he's completely powerless to resist you. His cock slips from your body, and he's distracted by the sight of his cum trailing out of your hole and into your folds. You feel so empty without his cock inside you, and your keening whine in his ears makes him shudder. He’ll give you the world if you can be patient a little longer; his raspy voice promises that you won’t be empty for long. He smooths his hands down your sides and squeezes your hips while he maneuvers you how he wants you.

When he slams his cock back inside you, your thighs are folded against your chest and he can plunge even deeper than before. He has better leverage in this position and his thrusts are more powerful. You cry out when he pulls out until the tip teases your entrance, then he thrusts back inside in rough, fast strokes. He wants to feel you come on his cock, and he reaches between your bodies to rub at your puffy clit. He spills deep inside you as you scream his name, and the lustful haze that clouds his mind fades, replaced by primal satisfaction - for now, until the cycle begins again.

MAMMON

Mammon is your first for a reason and even in his heat, he wants to treat you right. He’s already naked when you enter his room and his skin glistens with sweat. He was pumping his cock lazily while he waited, a last-ditch effort to dull the aching need burning within his chest. It’s like slow torture when he watches you undress, and even though you’re not trying to put on a show for him, it's still the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. He bites his lip to stay quiet, but you can still hear the groans and bitten-off curses that escape him.

When you’re finally naked and walking towards him, his gaze lingers at the mound between your legs. He watches the soft, fleshy skin of your thighs jiggle and he can't help but lick his lips hungrily. He pats his chest and he lays down while you crawl on your knees towards him. He reaches for your thighs so he can pull you up, until you’re finally hovering over his face. You catch a glimpse of his hungry eyes below you and heat pools in your belly. He surges forward at the same moment he pulls you down to meet his mouth. You feel the vibrations of his moan ripple through you, and you gasp.

He pants between open-mouthed kisses against your skin, and he licks thick stripes from your clit to your hole, up and down, over and over again. You hold onto the headboard for leverage so you can rock your hips against his face. His arms are wrapped around your thighs to help guide your movements. He groans your name and mumbles how sweet you taste and how good you smell and how wet you are.

He’s desperate to drink your ecstasy down his throat before he fucks you so he moves his mouth even faster against you. He slips one hand between your legs so he can spread your folds apart. He teases your entrance with his thick fingers, and his lips press hot kisses against your clit. He doesn’t stop until his face is slick with your cum, and you scream his name as you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

His cock is throbbing between his legs with his own desire to fuck you senseless, but he waits until you’re ready. When your thighs stop shaking, he helps you shuffle back down his body. You think he wants you to ride him, but suddenly he rolls you both over so he’s on top of you. He bares his fangs in triumph when he finally sinks inside you.

LEVIATHAN

When you enter Levi’s room, he’s naked and writhing in the nest he made for you in his tub. His tail thumps against the porcelain while he ruts against one of his body pillows. His aching cock leaks pitifully against the fabric, and he doesn’t even register that you’re nearby until you brush back the sweat-slicked hair from his eyes. He whimpers your name and whines when you pull away to take off your clothes.

He tosses the pillow aside when you climb into the tub and straddle his hips. His tail coils around your leg to ground himself. His vision is still a bit blurry from sweat and tears of frustration, and he humps blindly against you. The head of his cock slips through your folds and he moans at the sensation, but it’s not enough. You shush him and guide him inside properly - he tilts his head back with a stuttered sigh when he finally sinks into the wet heat of your body.

His rhythm is uneven and desperate, and you lean forward and hold onto the edge of the tub for leverage as you meet his erratic thrusts. He pants loudly and stares at your chest - your breasts are bouncing with each roll of your hips and it’s so hot. He can’t decide whether he wants to hold onto your hips or squeeze your ass, so he alternates doing both. When you’re both close, you beg for him to touch you so you can come together. You guide his hand to your clit, and he barely manages to hold off his own orgasm while he strokes you through yours first.

SATAN

He probably doesn’t realize it, but Satan has two very distinct preferences when it comes to fucking you during his heat.

If he’s one of the first brothers to take you, he doesn’t seem much different at first. He walks you to his bed, but he doesn’t push you down; he tries to savor the experience and treat you delicately so he doesn’t hurt you. You undress each other slowly, and his hands are gentle when he strokes your skin. When you’re both naked, he pulls you against him and kisses you. He’s trembling under your hands and his hard, twitching cock is trapped between your bodies; his body betrays the tender confidence he tries to show you. When he finally lays you down and settles between your legs, he rocks inside you and laces your fingers together above your head. When he comes, he whimpers loving praise into the crook of your neck where your scent is strongest.

If you go to Satan after you’ve been with Lucifer already, well - he’s a bit rougher, like he’s trying to make you forget the memories of Lucifer’s body with his own. His demon form emerges as soon as he smells Lucifer’s scent on you. His kisses are sloppier, and he pants against your lips as his hands tear through your clothes until he finds bare skin. He strokes his cock while he waits for you to get into position - you kneel on the bed and lean down until your shoulders and chest touch the mattress. Sometimes he holds one of your arms behind your back so you can do nothing but squirm on his cock while he fucks you; other times, he fists his hand in your hair and growls approvingly when the jolts of pleasure and pain make you whimper into the pillow. When he comes, he pulls out partway through so he can paint your skin with his release; he watches his cum trickle down your ass and thighs with primal satisfaction.

ASMODEUS

Asmo's room is dark when you open the door and slip inside. You start to undress right away because you know he's probably naked already and eager to begin. You hear a familiar purr deep within his chest, and you see the flash of his bright, clementine eyes across the room, and then he’s upon you.

He pushes you against the door and kisses you like he’s starved for you. He moans when he flicks his tongue against yours, and he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth. Your lips are slick and swollen from his biting kisses by the time he starts mouthing along your jaw.

His hands slide down your back and over your ass before he grips the back of your thighs and lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively and you both cry out when he sheathes inside of you in one smooth motion. He sucks a trail of marks into your skin as he fucks you; he groans when one of your hands slides through his hair, and the other clasps onto his shoulder. He whimpers when your nails dig into his skin.

You’re squeezing his cock so perfectly and there’s a deliciously wet, obscene sound every time he draws his hips back and slams into you again. He slips his hand between your bodies and massages your clit precisely the way you like; he’s not going to last and he wants to feel you come on his cock. It only takes a few strokes before your head tilts back and his name spills from your lips with a breathy cry. He buries his satisfied grin against your neck and moans his own pleasure as your walls milk him for everything he has.

BEELZEBUB

Beel usually comes to your room before you can find him in his. He prefers to take you in your bed because it's saturated in your scent - he'd drown in it if he could. Your door is open and you don’t realize that he’s watching you. When you finally sense his presence, you can see how hungry his gaze is; the outline of his hard cock strains against his pants. He’s across your room in an instant and pulling you into his arms. He hastily removes your clothes in search of bare skin; his hands shake slightly and his movements are a bit stiff - he’s trying to be gentle.

He undresses himself while he watches you get comfortable on the bed. By the time he’s naked, you’re waiting on your hands and knees. You wiggle your hips playfully to tease him - and after he kneels behind you, he smacks your ass lightly before he squeezes the soft flesh in his hand in apology. He teases his cock between your folds before he finally guides it inside, and you both groan as he splits you open. He likes this position best - he wraps a hand around your shoulder and pulls you back onto him while driving his cock into you with deep, powerful thrusts.

You whimper his name and choke on your moans every time his cock brushes over that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl. Your walls clench around his cock and it spurs him into even more of a frenzy. He doesn’t lose control, but you feel completely at his mercy as he takes what he needs from you.

You reach down between your legs and tease your clit when you sense he’s getting close, and you both come together. His hips stutter while he empties himself into you, and he collapses at your side so he doesn’t crush you. He holds you close while you both catch your breath. He falls asleep murmuring your name, while a trickle of drool leaks from the corner of his mouth.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie nests in the attic and sleeps fitfully while he waits for you to come to him. He doesn’t bother wearing clothes - he’s too hot and they scratch his skin unpleasantly. The sheets are tangled around his legs, and his cock lays hard and heavy against his belly. The tip is leaking and you can see it twitch when you approach him; even in his sleep, he senses your presence and his body begs for you.

You don’t bother taking off your shirt. You peel off your pants and underwear then kneel on the bed over his hips. He moans gently when you stroke his cock, and his hands clench the sheets when you lower yourself onto him. He finally wakes up - his eyes are watery, but you can still see the lustful haze that darkens them. He whimpers when you start rolling your hips in a slow, shallow rhythm. His hands squeeze and scratch at your thighs when you start to quicken your pace and ride him with more desperation.

He whines and tugs at the hem of your shirt, and you stop long enough to lift your shirt over your head and toss it aside. You’re surprised when his hips start thrusting up into you with more force than before, and you catch yourself on your hands when you lose your balance. He hums like this is exactly what he wanted, and his greedy mouth trails along your breasts until he can suck one of your nipples into his mouth. He can’t help himself - your breasts bounce so delightfully when he fucks you. He moves between them greedily, mouthing at the skin and sucking on each of your nipples.

You wind your fingers through his hair and tilt your head back as your pleased sighs and moans grow louder. The relentless friction of his pelvis grinding against your clit sends you over the edge first. He follows shortly after, whining pathetically as he buries his face against your chest.

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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Someone on Twitter proposed Steve and Gareth as cousins whose family had a major falling out, and then someone else brought it up recently and long story short no idea who to credit the idea too bc you can’t search for SHIT on Twitter but it's theirs not mine.

Anyway I wrote a lil thing as a warmup

PART TWO

"Why don't you come sit with Hellfire?" Gareth asked, angrily leaned against the bathroom wall while Steve fixed his hair.

He'd tried not to cling since he entered high school. Tried to keep things on the downlow, least any gossipy mouths started running.

It was so stupidly, needlessly, hard.

His cousin was only two years ahead of him but they'd spent the last year in different schools because of it.

That year, and the lack of Steve's presence in it, had grated. Now that he finally had Steve back, Gareth was loathe to play by the rules.

"Sit with you and Eddie, "the freak" Munson? I'll pass." Steve said, but there was no bite in it.

That, Gareth knew, was because Steve was using Eddie as an excuse.

"You'd like Eddie if you spent five minutes with him, King Steve." Gareth fired back on automatic. His fingers dug into his arms, as he resisted the urge to pace around the bathroom floor.

Unspoken was all the shit that had taken place.

Steve and Nancy's breakup. The rumor mill in overdrive, first about how Jonathan Byers had taken creep shot photos of them, then about how he'd taken his shot with Nancy herself.

The supposed cheating, the public fights, the crazy background of Jonathan's little brother being missing.

Billy Hargrove beating Steve to a pulp.

Now friendless, Steve had thoroughly fallen from his place at the tippy top of the social hierarchy and between his utter lack of friends and his shit tier parents, Gareth was concerned.

"You do not want me to sit with you, Gary. I'd tell all your little friends that you're apart of the royal family." Steve turned, making an exaggerated face. "How's Munson feel about cozying up to a Prince?"

"I'd technically be an Earl, Steve, not a prince." Gareth grumbled.

He got an eye roll in response. "Somehow I don't think he'll care."

"I do though." Gareth blurted out, absolutely thoughtless.

Steve blinked at him.

"What?" He said.

In for a penny right?

"I care." Gareth said, looking down and scuffing a shoe, making it squeak against the grimy tiles. "About you. You dick."

"Wow Gary you almost sounded loving there."

For once, he ignored the jab. "I'm worried about you, man." He said it quietly, the painful truth pulled out of him almost by force.

He knew better than anyone how few people Steve had. Knew how his dad was likely taking all the crap Steve had been involved in lately.

Richard Harrington hadn't been the wedge that had separated his and Steve's mother, but the man hadn't done them any favors, either.

His intolerance towards the working and lower classes, his demand for perfection, the way he looked down his nose not just on Gareth's parents but on his own wife and son…

Gareth's mom didn't tolerate it.

Likewise, Stella Harrington didn't tolerate her sister ruining her shot at being a rich trophy wife.

Both their sets of parents were dramatic and neither of them weren't anywhere near the concept of "good" but at least Gareth's weren't neglectful and abusive.

Shitty absolutely, but he never worried about getting thrown out, or that his mom wouldn't acknowledge his birthday because he'd "complimented her outfit the wrong way."

(”It's fine dude she just thought I called her ugly. It was a miscommunication. Dad said it's a good lesson about how women work."

"Casual reminder that your dad's an asshole and also how is telling your mom that she looked lovely in the sunlight telling her she's ugly?”

“It implied she wasn't lovely the rest of the time or some shit, I dunno man.”)

The BMW was a shitty prize when compared what Steve had dealt with to receive it.

"I'm okay." Steve said seriously. "It's almost the end of the year anyways. I can tough out having some extra alone time."

"If you're sure…"

"Yeah man, I'm sure. Thanks though."

Then Steve pulled him into a hug and fuck their parents, who demanded they continued some stupid grudge. Gareth clung to him just as hard as he had at ten. Unsure if he'd ever be allowed to see Steve again.

#steve harringtons shitty parents #steve harrington #gareth #gareth emerson #my beloved lil side character #steve and gareth as secret cousins #SECRET COUSSSIIINS #steve whump #0o0 fanfics

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hornedqueenofhell · 3 months

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Chapter 10 of my s4 hellcheerington rewrite I Find it Kind of Funny is up!

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #hellcheer #chrissy cunningham #chrissy x eddie #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #chrissy x steve #chrissy cunningham x steve harrington #cheerscoops #royal hellfire #hellcheerington #steddissy #steve x eddie x chrissy #robin buckley #nancy wheeler

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metalhoops · 1 year

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Steve starts driving Eddie places after he gets out of the hospital. It just makes sense. He’s so used to chauffeuring Robin and the kids around, that driving with Eddie is natural. Sure, unlike the others Eddie has a driver’s license, but they both know the road is a hell of a lot safer when Eddie isn’t behind the wheel.

The thing is, Eddie’s always complaining about Steve’s music. Steve’s a simple guy. He turns on the radio and listens to whatever it spoon-feeds him (pop garbage, according to Eddie). Steve likes the music well enough. He’s never really loved music, it’s just background noise. Hell, when pushed Steve couldn’t think of what his Vecna song would be. So to avoid Eddie’s gripes he relents and lets Eddie leave a couple of his cassettes in the BMW.

At first, Steve only plays the tapes when Eddie’s in the car but as time passes something changes. Steve finds himself driving home alone, dreading returning to the cold and quiet halls he knows await him in Loch Nora. The radio isn’t cutting it when it comes to drowning out the background chatter and dread in his head, so he switches over to one of Eddie’s tapes. It makes him feel less alone. He can imagine Eddie’s ringed fingers tapping their way across the passenger door furiously to the beat of the song, and he doesn’t feel so alone.

That’s how some of the tapes manage to migrate from his car to the tape deck in his room. When he plays them, he feels like the house comes alive, that he isn’t alone. He doesn’t tell Eddie, of course. He doesn’t tell anyone. One day he slips up while driving Dustin to Hellfire.

“I didn’t pick you as a metalhead, Steve,” Dustin notes with a shit-eating grin.

He’s confused at first, until he hears the familiar tune of Metallica’s Welcome Home, through the BMW’s speakers and knows he’s messed up. Dustin definitely brings it up as soon as he gets to Hellfire, spouting nonsense about how Eddie’s corrupted Steve with ‘the devil’s music’- seriously, where does the kid even come up with that shit?

The ride back from Hellfire is made all the more painful, with Eddie in the passenger seat and Dustin mouthing off from the backseat. Steve’s being berated from all angles about being a ‘closeted metalhead’. It’s been a long day and Steve is so goddamn tired so he can be forgiven for finally snapping.

“I only listen to that shit because it reminds me of you,” Steve remarked shutting them both up in an instant.

Dustin is the quickest to recover. He leans forward, nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“Careful dude, say stuff like that and Robin’ll get jealous. It sounds like you’re in love with Eddie.”

“Shut the hell up, Henderson,” Steve snaps, too quickly, too defensively.

That’s when Dustin realises he’s screwed up. Royally screwed up, because Steve being gay never entered the ballpark of his imagination and it made sense didn’t it? Kind of. The way Steve kept insisting he and Robin were platonic. He hadn’t gone on many dates since Eddie’s return from hospital.

He tried to dredge up all the things he’d been planning to say when Will inevitably came out because that, Dustin saw coming.

“Actually it’s cool if you are, you know, gay. We wouldn’t think of you any differently if you were. Right, Eddie?” Dustin desperately looks to Eddie, who’s gone full deer-in-the-headlights, wide-eyed.

“I might think of him a little differently,” Eddie breathes, sounding a million miles away. Dustin looks at him like he’s about ready to kill a man and Steve’s gone pale.

The rest of the drive is spent in awkward silence. Steve dreads the moment he arrives at the Henderson household, knowing the second Dustin leaves the car, things are going to get infinitely worse.

“If I’ve screwed things up, just let me know because I don’t know where to go from here,” Steve says once they’re alone. He hears Eddie exhale and braces himself for the worst as he waits for the man to reply.

“How about we start with one of those trademark, pickup lines I’ve heard so much about,” Eddie prompts. Steve is confused. It might be a common occurrence, but that doesn’t make it any better.

“What?” Steve asks, not able to come up with something more articulate.

“Is what Dustin said true?” There was no point in lying, was there?

“Yes. No. Mostly. I’m not gay-,” To Steve’s surprise, he watches Eddie’s shoulders fall. If he didn’t know better he’d think the guy was disappointed.

“But I do like guys. Not all guys. Some guys. Sometimes.” Steve’s rambling and he knows it.

“Then I meant what I said, to Dustin.” And there it is, the thing Steve’s dreading.

“Right. Yeah, okay. So do you still want me to drop you off at your place or should I just pull over now?”

Steve tries to hold back the hurt in his tone because he hasn’t admitted it out loud to anyone yet and it sure as hell smarts to be so blatantly rejected. He might actually have preferred getting punched in the face, at least there was something finite about it.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes and his voice is soft, gentle even. Which makes no damn sense. He sounds like Robin did, on the floor of the cinema bathroom: vulnerable and exasperated, but not mad.

“Pull over.” So Steve does.

Eddie sets a hand on Steve’s shoulder, looks him dead in the eyes and licks his lips.

“Steve, I’m gay and very much in love with you. Up until tonight, I thought you were very straight and totally out of my league, so if you’re telling me I’ve got a shot, that changes shit.” Oh. Steve finally caught up.

Steve turns down the volume of the music, just to make sure he’d heard Eddie right. Then leaned into the man’s space.

“Ahoy there, sailor.”

Much to his dismay, Eddie laughs- scratch that, he snorts, doubling over, trying to muffle the noise with a hand.

“That was the pickup line?” Eddie clarifies.

“I’m rusty and I’ve never used it on a guy,” Steve retorts defensively.

Before he knows it, Eddie’s back in his space, his breath ghosting hot over Steve’s cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t say it didn’t work.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #steddie ficlet #drabble #stranger things #honestly idk where this came from #bi steve harrington #I spent ages editing a chapter for my fic #and thought my brain was done with writing #then I thought I could make a post #and this just appeared #Metalhoops writes

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

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Eddie Munson's royal fuck-up

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 11

Prompt: Royalty AU

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: Rockstar Eddie Munson; Royal Steve Harrington; Meet cute; Flirting; Secret Identity; Sort of angsty/open ending

"So, tommorow…" Chrissy says from behind the folder they've been provided. It looks so posh with its dark green binding, the royal sigil embossed on it in gold print. Eddie hates it. It probably thinks it's so much better than the other folders. "When you're introduced to Prince Steven, you're to address him as Your Royal Highness. After that, you call him Sir."

"What, really? Dude, at least buy me dinner before we start with the kinky shit."

Chrissy shoves his feet off the desk, which almost makes him topple off his chair.

"Can you take this seriously? A royal visit is an important matter. We can certainly use the publicity-"

Eddie's hand crashes down on the desk. "I'm a fucking rockstar, Chris. That ain't enough publicity? This place is my baby, mine. What does that royal asshole know about what it's like to have a rough childhood? He thinks he can come here, give a little speech, smile for the cameras, and suddenly it's all about him?"

"What, now you care?"

He whirls on her, but the look she gives him makes him freeze. Chrissy sighs.

"Eds, you are so busy with the new album and the tour, you haven't even met the new volunteers. I said I'd manage the place, and that's fine. But you must trust me. Just do it for me. Please?"

The skate park has new graffiti, and he hasn't even seen it yet. Eddie exhales his cigarette smoke and watches how it curls up to the sign spelling Hellfire Youth Center.

Maybe Chrissy is right. Maybe he should be here more. Maybe he's been so caught up in the whole fame and fortune thing, he's losing sight of what's important, like-

"Watch out!"

Like guys on skateboards barrelling towards him.

Eddie throws up his hands. The guy tries to swerve, completely tips his precarious balance, and goes flying off the board and right into him. They land on the asphalt with an undignified oomph.

"Shit, sorry," babbles the guy and tries to disentangle his limbs from Eddie’s. "Couldn't brake-"

"S alright," Eddie hears himself say, even though his ass hurts like a bitch from the impact and he can already feel the bruises forming. "You can fall into my arms any time."

Skateboard guy blinks up at him and - fuuuck, he's cute! In a scrungly, beanie-stuffed-over-chestnut-locks, black-rimmed-nerd-glasses kind of way.

For a second, nobody says anything.

"For fuck’s sake," someone swears, and then little Max Mayfield is running towards them, ginger braids jumping with the movement. "I told you to be careful."

"Sorry," cutie with the glasses says again. Eddie has never seen him around. He must be one of the new volunteers Chrissy mentioned. "Guess I'll need to practice some mo- ow, shit!"

His hands fly up to cradle his knee. There's a hole and a rapidly spreading bloodstain in the fabric of his jeans.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says, and whips his bandana from his back pocket to press it to the wound. "Red, why don't you hop inside and get the first aid kit? I'll stay here with …"

He trails off expectantly. Cutie's eyes go wide.

"I, erm … Dustin."

"I'll stay here with Dustin."

Dustin, it turns out, isn't just cute, but also fun to talk to. He doesn’t gush about what a huge fan he is or ask for an autograph once. Eddie never thought he'd appreciate that one day, but it gets really old really quick.

Instead, they jump from one topic to the next, sitting on one of the benches and watching Max go on her board. Dustin has a quick, sharp wit and isn't afraid to counter Eddie’s jabs with his own, delightfully bitchy sense of humor. Damn, to think he almost missed this one. He really needs to be around more.

"I love this place, y’know? You created something great for these kids."

Eddie jerks to attention. The sun has started to dip, casting Dustin’s smile and the hair poking from his beanie in a soft golden light.

"Thanks man," Eddie murmurs, and feels the bitterness boil back up. "Some people seem to think it needs better publicity, though."

Dustin shuffles awkwardly, winces when the movement pulls on the Care Bears bandaids Max has plastered all over his knee.

"You mean the royal visit?"

Eddie huffs.

"Yeah, man. I mean, what are they expecting me to do, bow and grovel while his Royal Doucheness prances all over the place with his perfect hair and fancy suit and thank him for it? It's not like he cares about these kids, it's all just a gig to him."

Dustin draws his bottom lip between his teeth.

"You can't know that. Maybe he does care. Maybe he's-"

Eddie barks a laugh. "Oh, give me a break. All the royals are good at is looking important and spending our tax money. I can fucking do without-"

"Steve? We gotta leave, c'mon."

They both whip around. A fancy black limousine with tinted windows has pulled up in the parking lot behind them. A gruff looking man is holding the back door open and looking at them expectantly.

Dustin sighs and stands.

"Coming, Hop."

"Wait, wait, what?" Eddie babbles as he walks towards the car, shoulders in a sad little hunch. "What's going on? Who's that guy? Why's he calling you-"

And then it clicks.

"Oh fuck," Eddie says.

Dustin … no, Steve … no, Steven - Crown Prince Steven fucking Harrington - gives him a tight smile while the man ushers him into the backseat.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Munson, I'll see you tomorrow. I'll try not to be too much of a douchebag, I promise."

The door clicks shut.

The car glides away.

Eddie buries his face in his palms.

"Jesus fucking Christ. He's the fucking Prince."

Beside him, wheels grate on asphalt as Max brakes.

"Wow," she deadpans. "You're in some deep shit."

Eddie groans.

Tomorrow is gonna be a long-ass fucking day.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie ficlet #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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btsfests · 4 months

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𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil: for these stories art with us. Let our prophets share their written word with you, and may you find yourself peeking into Heaven or Hell!

Fables coming your way January - February

♡ Title: After Dark ♡ Pairing: Ceberus! Maknae Line x Demon! Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Drama/Angst, Smut ♡ Summary: Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin are your guard dogs, willing to do anything for you. You run an elite casino within the human world, disguised as a human, but you can only get in if you've been invited. Seokjin and Hoseok have been thorns in your side for years, witches hellbent on sending you back to the afterlife.

As scripted by @jmvore

♡ Title: Carry It With You ♡ Pairing: Human!Taehyung x Guardian Angel!Jimin ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health, Angst, Smut, Fluff ♡ Summary: Broken beyond repair, Taehyung is convinced that the Heavens have forsaken him. It’s Jimin’s responsibility to show Taehyung that there really is someone out there who cares.

As scripted by @gimmethatagustd

♡ Title: Celestial Ruin ♡ Pairing: Fallen Angel!Yoongi x Angel!(f)reader x Angel!Namjoon ♡ Rating: 18+ | Dead Dove ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Supernatural, Angels and Demons, Angst, Smut, Corruption ♡ Summary: Just being in his proximity made my skin crawl. As if his tainted wings were contagious and I was putting myself at risk just being near him. Yoongi was corruption incarnate. Once revered upon his throne and now cast aside for the sins he committed. Inky wings replacing the beautiful gold they used to be. The sign of the Fallen. And the way he looked at me said he wouldn't be sinking alone.

As scripted by @remedyx

Read Now

♡ Title: Cursed ♡ Pairing: Demon reader x new demon Namjoon ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: supernatural, crack, smut ♡ Summary: You manage to royally piss off demon lord Seokjin and he punishes you by giving you the assignment no one wants - shaping hapless IT guy Kim Namjoon into a freaky deaky demon.

As scripted by @hamsterclaw

♡ Title: Did It Hurt? ♡ Pairing: FallenAngel!Taehyung x LostSoul!f.Reader ♡ Rating: MA ♡ Genre: Fallen Angel AU | Angst, Smut, Mild Fluff ♡ Summary: Cast from the Heavens and forced onto the mortal plane for breaking his Oath of Holy Divinity, Taehyung only has one way to regain his wings after his exile is up or forever be cast into the 9th Circle—save a lost soul seeking absolution. As his one-hundredth year in exile approaches, his desire to return starts to wane and the kiss of Hellfire grows nearer.

As scripted by @colormepurplex2

Read Now

♡ Title: Fall from Grace ♡ Pairing: Demon!Seokjin x Angel!Jimin ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Romance, Smut, betrayal ♡ Summary: The rules for angels and demons are simple and straightforward and can be summed up as don’t interact. It’s not Jin’s fault that he’s mistaken for an angel.

As scripted by @downbad4yoongi

Read Now

♡ Title: Help! An Angel has Fallen and She Can't Get Back Up! ♡ Pairing: Human!Namjoon x Angel!Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Idiots to lovers, angel summoning, fluff, humor, smut, crack ♡ Summary: Namjoon is satisfied with his life. He has great friends, a promising career, and feels confident he can face any challenge the future may bring. However, when he accidentally summons an angel while doing his dishes, he realizes he might be in over his head.

As scripted by @blog-name-idk

♡ Title: Lead Us Into Temptation ♡ Pairing: Demon!Hoseok x Human!Reader ♡ Rating: 21+ ♡ Genre: established relationship, demon possession, corruption, speculative horror, fluff, angst, smut ♡ Summary: Hoseok is as devout in his faith as he is dedicated to you, and the two of you live by a moral code of remaining pure and perfect – free from sin and temptation. But after Hoseok is stricken with a strange illness that changes him entirely, you wonder if the life you had before is truly the life you desire.

As scripted by @theharrowing

♡ Title: Mist of Chaos ♡ Pairing: Demon!Yoongi / Angel!Taehyung x f! Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Supernatural, Demons, Angels, Angst, Smut. ♡ Summary: The tales told in the night, that 'it is hard to find the light'. You learn that what you see isn't always quite right. You find yourself soul-torn in a mystic valley after an unexpected incident. Alone, however, you were not as an angel and demon cling your shoulders.

As scripted by @taegicity

♡ Title: Reborn In Sin ♡ Pairing: demon!jimin x fem!reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: dark, supernatural, fantasy, angst, smut ♡ Summary: for years jimin was your constant and loyal companion in the church, he was a shining example of humility and compassion. but when he was tragically taken from the world before he could experience life, his heart was filled with anger and resentment. and so, in a moment of weakness, he struck a deal with the devil, trading his soul for a second chance at life. but when he returned, he was no longer your kind and devoted boy you once knew.

As scripted by @hoseokshobagi

♡ Title: Shadow of Mine ♡ Pairing: Demon!Taehyung x f. Reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Supernatural, Angels and Demons, Angst, Smut ♡ Summary: As one of the few humans in the world without a guardian angel to protect you, you’ve learned to take care of yourself - until you realize that perhaps you haven’t been as alone as you always thought.

As scripted by @sailoryooons

♡ Title: Talk to My Angels ♡ Pairing: human!taehyung and angel!reader, platonic ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, humor i hope?, angst ♡ Summary: What should Taehyung pick for breakfast? Which shoes should he wear today? Should he accept the job or look for something better? No matter the significance, Taehyung always turns to his angels for answers. So when he finds you - a real-life angel - the surprise isn't that he can see you or that he accepts your existence. The surprise is that he makes it his mission to send you back where you belong.

As scripted by @daechwitatamic

♡ Title: The End Of All Things ♡ Pairing: Fallen Angel!Jungkook x Human!Namjoon, (Past Taekook) ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Alternate Universe — Angels & Demons, Slow Burn ♡ Summary: He moved with a silent sort of rage that could be felt in the air. There was no mistaking what he was at this moment, entirely unearthly and terrifying. It wouldn't surprise Namjoon if the very ground broke under his feet, Jungkook's very being screaming, look at what I've become, look what you have made me.

He made his way through the crowd, cutting down his foes with precision because he did not move in unblinded rage, — it was grief.

or a story about what it really means to be human.

As scripted by @jknoah

♡ Title: Touch of Hell ♡ Pairing: Devils son!Jimin x m!reader ♡ Rating: 18+ ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort ♡ Summary: Finding himself exiled to the human world by his own father — the Devil himself, Jimin is stuck in a dilemma. Will the boy who stole his heart love him forever, or will he push him away after he finds out the monster he is ?

As scripted by @leohatter

♡ Title: Wish ♡ Pairing: Angel!Jungkook x Human!Reader; background Angel!Jin x Demon!Jimin ♡ Rating: PG-13 ♡ Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn ♡ Summary: When Jungkook's mentor goes missing, he travels to earth in search of him and when he gets into a spot of trouble, a kind human helps him out. Determined to pay them back Jungkook insists on granting a wish but…

How do you grant a wish for someone who doesn't have one?

As scripted by @madbutgloriouspond

#bts fanfic #bts fic #namjoon fic #seokjin fic #hoseok fic #jimin fic #taehyung fic #jungkook fic #bts collab #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fests #angels and demons fest #bts

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stobinesque · 11 months

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talking could, if we'd just dare (you know that i'll forgive you), pt. 1

@steddie-week day 6: misunderstandings / "You Lookin' at Me Lookin' at You" by Ozzy Osbourne | ~5.5k words | G or T inspired by this post from @inklessletter!

If Eddie was being honest, he’d never actually paid that much attention to Steve Harrington. Sure, it was impossible not to know of him. But for most of his life it had simply been…unimportant, to know about the various goings on of the Class of ‘85’s royal court. Harrington was rich, a bit of a bitch, and kept company with other rich bitches, and so Eddie neatly categorized him with all the other pretty, rich jocks, and went about his day. Life was easier when there was an order to such things. Keep the smalltown, upper-middle class heroes to one side, and the freaks and degenerates to the other, and everyone could live in an uneasy sort of harmony until they walked the stage and left this rathole behind.

Of course, repeating senior year thrice had put a wrench in that plan.

Meanwhile, Dustin Henderson had thrown the whole damn toolbox into the whole not-paying-attention-to-one-Steven-MiddleName-Harrington plan.

And whatever the fuck was going on now had just blown everything out of the water.

(Or into the water, as the case may be—except the freaky parallel hellscape they’d all dove into seemed to be utterly devoid of the substance, so maybe the original metaphor worked just fine.)

So now he had to contend with the fact that Steve Harrington was a) a pretty nice dude to recent victims of smalltown witch-hunts who had just been thrust into what was apparently a years-long government conspiracy involving monsters and mind-controlling wizards, b) a bit of a dork, c) friends with a whole bunch of dorks, most of whom were four or five years younger than him, d) admirably—though perhaps self-destructively—protective of said dorks, e) just as much of a badass as Henderson claimed, and, most distressingly: f) extremely hot while doing so.

The being a protective badass part, not all the other ones.

(The other parts Eddie was retroactively filing under “adorable,” and “cute.”)

The expression Steve got on his face when Eddie lobbed his battle vest at him was also priceless, so at that point Eddie figured, fuck it. What did he have to lose from some harmless flirting? The chances of him making it out the other side of this both alive and un-incarcerated were dwindling by the second, and it’s not like he ran any risk of things going anywhere. (Harrington might be a good dude, and alternate dimensions and monsters and superpowers apparently existed, but Steve Harrington being anything other than a straight man with Traditional American Values™ strained credulity—and the Munson Doctrine—far past any acceptable limit.)

After all, if there was one thing that Eddie had actually learned from D&D, it was that a little bit of flirting and fun could take the sting out of any TPK.

🦇🦇🦇

If Steve was being honest with himself—which he’d been making a concerted effort to try to do since fall of ‘84—he could admit that his…jealousy…of Munson predated Dustin joining Hellfire. His whole climbing-on-cafeteria-tables schtick was kind of obnoxious, sure. But up until he’d wound up flunking his first try at senior year, Eddie'd had this sort of dorky-but-cool aura that Steve wished he was apathetic enough about other people’s opinions to achieve.

For a man who seemed to genuinely believe he was a coward, Eddie Munson was so…loudly and unapologetically himself. In Hawkins, Indiana—a place that quite literally wanted to kill him for how much of a freak he was. And, sure, some of that came down to the whole wanted-for-murder thing. But the man had also spent the better part of the past twelve hours flirting with a former jock—whom Eddie himself admitted to thinking was a douche up until a couple days ago!—so Steve had the sneaking suspicion that there was probably a corner of the town that already had it out for Munson long before Chrissy Cunningham’s body was found in his trailer.

And it wasn’t that Steve wanted to get into metal, or that Dragons game, or start wearing hand-printed t-shirts and attaching his wallet to a chain. He just wished that even after all the years of monsters, and government threats, and Russian torture, he didn’t still feel the need to hold himself to standards set by other people.

If anyone was a coward, it was Steve.

And there was something kind of…nice—reassuring, even—about the fact that Eddie seemed to feel the same way—but in reverse—about him. Like together maybe they could take the bravest parts of the other and make them their own.

And underneath it all, Steve could admit, was the fact that Eddie was…pretty.

So. Steve was having a bit of a crisis

“Robin, I’m having a crisis.”

“We’re all having a crisis, dingus,” she shot back, slapping at his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“No— no, not that.” Steve started emptying one of the bottles of vodka they’d procured into the half-dead grass. “I’m talking about the whole—” Steve waved a hand over towards where Eddie and Dustin were horsing around. “The Eddie thing.”

“Oh, you mean the fact that he’s been blatantly flirting with you since you got eaten by bats?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Robin, I’m talking about the blatant flirting.”

“And…why is that causing a crisis?”

Steve fish-mouthed at her. “B-because…” He leaned forward with a finger held aloft, ready to waggle it in her face. He paused. Frowned. “Well, because…” Steve threw up his hands. “I don’t know! A few days ago the man thought I was a douche. Literally just yesterday he was, like, hot-and-cold trying to throw me at Nancy, while also ogling my chest hair, and now he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and trying to get into my personal space? It doesn’t make sense, Robin!”

“Welcome to the club, buddy.” She raised her brows at him pointedly. And, yeah, that was fair, he guessed.

“And,” He started again, “And– I’ve also got Henderson insisting that I win Nancy back—he does seem to have finally dropped the whole are-you-secretly-dating-Robin thing, though, which—”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Yeah. But, on top of that Nancy has also been making eyes at me, but she’s still with Jonathan so I don’t know what to do about that. And it’s all just a mess, Robs! I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, well, that’s been true for ages, Stevie.”

“Thanks, Robin. That’s very helpful.”

“What? I’m just saying, if you’re going to tell me that I’ve got to ‘be myself,’ and put myself out on a limb with Vickie, while you’re out gallivanting with Helen or Jackie or whoever—”

“Heidi—”

“Whatever.” Robin waved her hand dismissively. “My point is: you keep throwing yourself at all of these girls who only know the old you—even if you’re trying to give them the new-and-improved model—and you haven’t even tried to go after a guy, and I think we both know why. And now you’ve hit the jackpot of what every tragic gay teenager in smalltown America can only dream of: you’ve got someone blatantly, and undeniably into you, who you also like back, and you’re telling me that you’re having a crisis? Need I remind you of the tableau we were treated to back at The War Zone?”

Steve sighed. “I know, Robs. You’re right.” Steve jammed a funnel into the neck of the bottle he was working on, and the two of them kept building molotov cocktails in the dying evening light, as Steve tried to reassure Robin that she still had a chance with Vickie—which she did, and Robin took his mind off his own impending disaster. But, if Steve had even a shadow of a chance of getting to hook up with a guy, Robin deserved to have a romance of her own. As much as Robin was afraid to see it, Steve was pretty sure he recognized that conflicted look Vickie’d had in her eyes when she’d spotted Robin in the store. There was something there, he was sure of it.

But maybe Vickie was like him. Maybe she’d only just learned this new thing about herself. Robin—and presumably Eddie—had had at least a couple of years to sit with this knowledge about themselves and come to terms with it. But for Steve (and Vickie?) it was still so scarily and terribly new. With girls, Steve knew how to play the field. He knew what was expected of him—what role he had to fill. But with Eddie a guy, all the rules went out the window; all of his scripts: useless. He’d have to start from scratch, and build something completely different from anything he’d been taught to want or expect before.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, though. Because Robin was right: they had more important things—end-of-the-world shaped things—to worry about. His love life could wait. Eddie could wait.

They all just needed to make it out of there alive.

🎸🎸🎸

Eddie survived.

They won.

Eddie survived, and so did everyone else, and they won.

Eddie kept repeating it to himself, because he couldn’t quite believe it.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of the fact that in the end running away was exactly what he needed to do to make sure they all made it out in one piece—more or less.

He’d walked right out of hell with nothing more to show for it than a few scratches up his sides, and a ring of bruises ‘round his neck. In the end, Steve was the only person other than Red who needed a hospital stay of any kind, because what would have been manageable wounds on day one, had become life-threatening after days of infection and improper care.

A future in a state penitentiary also seemed to be out of the cards. There was probably nothing any of them could say or do to convince the general Hawkins populace of his innocence, but Dr. Owens and his ilk had crafted a cover story believable enough to win over Powell and Callahan, at least. More to the point, though: all charges had officially been dropped, and the case was closed.

Now there was just the mortifying process of figuring out how to move on. Or at least forward.

That was the part you didn’t see in movies. No one showed the recovery. Because what was so interesting about watching someone pull their life and body back together? As though healing wasn’t just as much a part of the story as the falling apart.

Eddie wasn't ashamed to admit that it was driving him a bit mad. Because these kids all seemed to be seasoned veterans at it. They hadn't just snapped back to their relatively-easy-going-but-bitchy baselines by any means—Lucas and Dustin especially seemed incredibly subdued in response to the extent of Max's and Steve's injuries, respectively—but they moved around one another with a care and familiarity that spoke to years of experience.

“How did you do this?” Eddie scrubbed a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots. He and Robin were posted by Steve's bedside—he still spent most of his days semi- to unconscious. And while Eddie didn’t necessarily think it made a whole lot of sense for him to be spending more time at Steve’s bedside than the kids did, Robin was only ever dragged away from him kicking and screaming, and as the newest member of the apocalypse posse above the age of twelve, he was in desperate need of her guidance.

“How’d I do what?” Her typically-raspy voice sounded paper thin, and there were deep, dark circles under both eyes.

“I don’t know—!” Eddie flapped a frantic hand around, like he could manifest words and meaning into being. Something about it made the corners of Robin’s mouth twitch up. “Any of it? You–you dealt with a flesh monster, apparently, and you’re just...walking around on two feet, probably ready to graduate—which is more than I could guarantee for myself—”

“Hey, you will—”

“Not the point, Buckley! The point is, up until this new bout of freaky shit popped into existence, you seemed like you were walking around Hawkins without a care in the world. So how’d you do it? What’s your secret?”

Robin scoffed. “If you think I was walking around without being terrified every day, you either weren’t paying attention, or you’re a lot less smart than I gave you credit for, Munson.”

Eddie grimaced. “Sorry, sorry. That’s not what I meant, I just…you seem like you managed to pull yourself back together—whereas I feel seconds away from total collapse.”

“Yeah, that’s not just a you thing.” Robin twisted one of her rings around her finger. “But you wanna know what kept me upright? It was Steve. I don’t think I would have made it through the last eight months without him. And I know he’s gonna be alright, but I am still terrified that something will happen and he’ll get ripped away from me.”

Eddie frowned. He didn’t think he’d been picking up on those kinds of vibes between Harrington and Buckley, but the way she spoke about him… “Are the two of you, like, a thing?”

Robin barked out a laugh. “No! Not at all. I mean, he is the most important person in my life, and I would both kill and die for him. But, like, in a normal, platonic way.”

“...I’ll take you at your word for the ‘platonic’ part, but there is absolutely nothing normal about what you just said. You two are freaky for each other.”

Robin giggle-snorted, and it scrunched her nose up in a way that filled Eddie with warmth. Despite everything about his…everything, he’d never been short on friends—but it always felt nice to find another one. “Yeah, yeah I guess we are.”

“Mmm…Bobbie? ‘Zat you?” The beeping of Steve’s heart monitor picked up a little speed, and the man in question’s eyelids fluttered open. Robin immediately unraveled from the folded-up position she’d adopted in the hospital chair, and reached out to take his hand into her own.

“Yeah, Stevie, it’s me.”

Steve squeezed her hand, before his eyes started scanning the room—going wide when they landed on Eddie. “Oh. Eddie.” A light pink flush broke over his face, and he averted his gaze almost as quickly as he met Eddie’s. That kept happening whenever Steve woke up, and Eddie didn’t know what to make of it, but it always left him off-kilter in a way he didn’t want or know how to put a name to. He always took it as his cue to leave.

“Well,” he started, with forced cheer, and a shit-eating grin. He pushed himself up from the chair and dusted off his knees. “I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds to catch up,”

“Not lovebirds—” Steve slurred, at the same time Robin exclaimed, “Ew, Munson!”

Eddie just cackled and sauntered off with a jaunty salute.

🦇🦇🦇

Steve felt like he was losing his mind.

He'd been out of the hospital for a few weeks now, but he almost wished he was back there, because every waking second was just a never ending parade of pain and confusion.

Fuck, why did almost dying always hurt so much?

The upside of being awake and ambulatory, was that Eddie had finally stopped running out of the room whenever Steve was awake for longer than two seconds. The down side—which was unfortunately directly connected to the aforementioned upside—was that Eddie was being weird.

And, okay, Steve had an admittedly shallow pool of evidence from which to draw his comparisons from. But the fact remained that Eddie’s behavior towards him pre- and post-Vecna-slaying were worlds’ apart. And he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d tried everything: playing coy, bringing him small gifts, finding excuses to talk to him one-on-one when the rest of the group was gathered together. But none of it seemed to work.

What Steve wanted was to just be able to rock up to the trailer with a bouquet of flowers and ask him out to a night at Enzo’s. But even without the whole recently-wanted-for-murder thing, the two of them going out on what was obviously a date in Hawkins was not only a bad idea, but actively dangerous. And without his typical romance rituals to fall back on, Steve was at a loss as to how to proceed, when the object of his affection was acting so damnably fickle.

“I just don’t get it, Rob. One minute he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and getting all up close and personal, and the next he’s looking like I killed his cat!”

“You have got to stop using other people’s trauma as analogies for your love life, babe.”

Steve waved a hand. “Mrs. Henderson’s not here.”

Robin threw up her hands. “And that makes it okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Fine, whatever.” Robin ruffled her hair in frustration. “Maybe he’s just nervous!”

“Nervous! Why would he be nervous?”

“I don’t know, Steve. Why are you nervous?”

“Because I like him, and I don’t want to get hurt again!” Steve shouted, startling himself by the force with which the words came tumbling out.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed. “I mean, it’s not just that, though, it’s…” Steve waved a hand into the open air between them. “I don’t know how to do this, you know? If this was a girl, I’d be thinking ‘oh, she’s playing hard to get—’”

“I can’t believe that’s a real thing people do,” Robin deadpanned.

“I mean, sometimes it really is just that they don’t like you—except that then they don’t keep trying to, like, hang out and joke with you—which Eddie does, he’s just hopelessly awkward about it.”

“Steve. Eddie is a hopelessly awkward person. It’s like a defining character trait.”

“Well he wasn’t with me.” Steve wiped a hand over his face and groaned. “I’m just nervous I misread the whole thing, you know? And if I did, and I ask him the wrong thing in the wrong way…what if he doesn’t want to see me again? Like, at all?”

Robin reached out and took his hand. “I hate that you have to know what that feels like,” she said, soft and careful. “But even in the wild event that Eddie is either a: entirely straight, or b: just not into you, I don’t think there’s any version of him that wouldn’t want to talk to you at all. So you should ask him out.”

“Okay, Rob,” Steve sighed. “Only on one condition, though.”

“Oh, no. Ohhhh, no you don’t—”

“You’ve gotta ask out Vickie,” Steve finished, holding out his hand with a smirk.

“Uggggh, fine. Deal.”

🎸🎸🎸

Steve was acting weird.

He’d been acting weird since getting discharged from the hospital—acting all shy and blushy one second, and then turning around and bringing him a new set of dice the next—but it’d really been cranked up to eleven for the past week.

And, look, Eddie knew he was new to the monsters-are-real crew. He knew that in order to make space for him they had to alter whatever their established dynamics were to fit him into them. But that didn’t account for the fact that all of a sudden Steve seemed to be completely unable to string two sentences together in front of him.

Maybe the two of them weren’t quite friends yet, but he missed the ease with which they’d been able to talk and be honest with each other only a couple of weeks ago. Hell, they’d had more chemistry together down in the Upside Down.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Maybe that had been the problem all along. Maybe Steve had finally clocked his doomsday-flirting for what it was, and was trying to establish boundaries. Eddie thought he’d pulled back since they'd all crawled out of hell—broken, but alive. As soon as the danger was clear there was no reason to play the bit anymore, right? It’s not like his flirtation attempts had ever been more than a way to liven up what had been an unmitigated shitstain of an experience. Sure, Harrington was pretty, and nice—and there was clearly more to him than met the eye. Eddie had really enjoyed getting to know him over the course of the past few weeks. He wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, if he was being honest. But it looked like the door was closing on that chance if he didn’t straighten things out.

“Hey, Harrington?”

“I thought I told you to call me Steve, Munson.”

Eddie smiled his ‘malicious compliance’ smile and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking onto his heels as he said. “Alright: Steeeve.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a little smile on his face that belied the general bitchiness of the rest of his demeanor. “What do you want, Eddie?”

Eddie spread his hands out in front of him like he was unfurling a map into the air between them. “Just figured I ought to clear the air.”

Steve frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You know—the whole reason you’ve been all weird around me lately? I figured it’d be best if I put all of my cards on the table.”

The frown dropped off of Steve’s face—replaced by an expression that Eddie couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t…bad? There was no apprehension to be found there. Steve looked almost expectant. Hopeful, maybe. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense—but Harrington didn’t make a whole lot of sense, so maybe Eddie was just misreading whatever he was seeing there.

“You know it was all just in good fun, right? That it didn’t mean anything?”

The frown returned. “What are you talking about?”

“Back in the Upside Down. You know I was just messing with you, right, man? Just a bit of good ol’ fashioned I’m-about-to-die flirting, you know? Nothing to get all worked up about.” Eddie kept a wide smile fixed in place, tried to really lean into the whole ‘non-threatening gay guy’ vibe—an uphill battle for him, specifically on one of his best days. He’d do jazz hands if it’d help sell the performance any better. But each word out of his mouth felt more like a lie than the one before.

A thin fissure appeared on Steve’s face—a crack that Eddie could almost see through, but not enough to be able to make any sense of what was on the other side. “Oh,” Steve said. His voice was shaking and Eddie couldn’t figure out why. It set off alarms in the part of his brain that was always primed to run at the first sign of danger. “So you’re…not gay?”

Eddie frowned in confusion. Of all the ways he thought Steve might react, that was not one of them. So Eddie forced a laugh, trying to disarm the question. “Oh no, I am a flaming homosexual. I just want to make sure you know that doesn’t mean I’m interested in you.”

The frown slid off of Steve’s face, and the fissure smoothed itself away like it’d never been there. The Steve standing before him was blank-faced as a statue, and it made Eddie want to puke. In all his worrying about Steve being uncomfortable with the idea that Eddie was hitting on him, specifically, he’d entirely forgotten to be worried about Steve being straight up homophobic. At least he wasn’t throwing punches. That was something, right? But Steve was looking at him with such a totalizing coldness behind his eyes that Eddie felt like he’d been left out to sea.

Steve gave a stiff nod. “Right, of course not,” he said, but the words came out wooden. He threw a thumb over one shoulder and twisted on his heel, back toward the beemer. “I’ll just…I gotta go.”

And then Harrington turned his back to him, and walked away.

Eddie didn’t have a crush on Steve.

So why did it hurt so much to watch him leave?

⛵⛵⛵

Robin sped down the stairs when she heard the banging at the door. There weren’t many people who would bother turning up on her doorstep unannounced. Even fewer who would make such a concerted effort to try to knock it down with the force of their pounding fists.

She swung the door open to find a tear-stained Steve standing before her.

“What happened?” She gasped out. Was it back? It couldn’t be back. El and Will had both sworn on pain of death that it was over. Maybe there was a new horror in town? Maybe Nancy had gone missing? Or Dustin? One of the other kids? Maybe Eddie?

Steve cut off the racing of her thoughts with a sobbing gasp. “Nothing, Robs.” Somehow, he looked worse than he had after the Russians. His head was hung low, and Robin could swear there was a shadow of phantom-bruising around his eyes. Like he’d been emotionally decked in the face. He took a step forward to come inside at the same moment that she took him by the wrist and yanked him across the threshold.

“What do you need?”

“Bathroom,” was all he said. And then Steve swapped his-wrist-in-hers for her-wrist-in-his and he pulled her further into her own house, toward the second-floor bathroom. When they reached it, Robin plopped down on the floor with her back against the tub while Steve took up his position with his back pressed up against the toilet bowl.

“What happened?” She whispered.

Steve was silent for a long stretch of time. He turned his head to the side, as though he was trying to look out of the small frosted window high up on the wall beside him. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Who? What? What are you talking about, Steve?”

Steve turned back to face her. “Eddie. He doesn’t want me.” Steve no longer sounded sad—he sounded vacant.

Robin’s nose scrunched up like she’d smelled something wrong, because that didn’t make sense. Robin might not be good at clocking other gay people—she wasn’t that good at reading people, period—but it’s not like Eddie’s flirting with Steve had been subtle. And even beyond that, he was always looking at Steve while he was asleep in the hospital bed, in a way that Robin thought meant something… There was just no way that Eddie didn’t have at least a little bit of a crush on Steve, right? So what had he said to make Steve so certain about that he didn’t? “How d’you know that?”

Steve laughed, half-hysterical, as he tipped his head back onto the lid of the toilet. “He said it didn’t mean anything—the flirting.” Steve wiped a hand clear across the length of his face—chin to forehead—before digging his fingers into his hair. He laughed again. Or—it was more a puff of air, than anything else. And there was definitely no humor behind it. Just a bitter kind of resignation. “And then—he said—he told me he was gay, but that he just wanted me to know that it doesn’t mean he’s interested in me.” Steve covered his face with both hands and let out a broken sob. “God, he and Nance should compare notes.”

Robin could feel the lines carving an angry space between her eyebrows, and a fire in her heart. How dare he? Maybe Robin had misread Eddie's whole vibe toward Steve—but how dare he just trample all over and discard his heart like that? It didn’t make sense—but it was happening, and she had to fix it, because no one was allowed to break her other half.

“Hey Stevie?” She asked, trying to keep her tone light.

“Yeah?”

“Where do you keep your little nail bat nowadays?”

🎸🎸🎸

Let it not be said that Eddie Munson didn’t know how to pull off a top-tier wallow. Ozzy’s pleading vocals were pouring out the speakers, while Eddie was laid star-fished out on the mattress, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers, and torturing himself with the memory of Steve Harrington biting into the tail of a hell-bat.

Is it me or is it you?

Things are so much different now

But nothing lasts forever

He really should have known that whatever kind of rapport he and Harrington had going was too good to be true. Once a rich dickhead jock, always a rich dickhead jock, right? He almost felt bad thinking that. But what else was he supposed to think? The second Steve Harrinton had found out he was gay he’d turned his back on him. That was pretty cut and dry.

A loud banging at the trailer door cut through his thoughts and over the sound of Ozzy singing looks and glances can't repair, talking could if we'd just dare.

Eddie had half a mind to just ignore it, but there were even odds that it was one of the UD Crew as it was a member of Hawkins’ resident angry mob. So Eddie peeled himself off the bed, leaving Ozzy blaring behind him, and yanked open the door. “What—?” He started, but came up short when he registered an absolutely livid Robin Buckley staring back at him.

Eddie hadn’t thought to take into consideration the idea that the person at the door might be a UD Crew member taking up the role of angry mob members. But Robin Buckley was standing on his stoop looking half-ready to commit a murder. The second the door was open, she shoved past him and into the trailer.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Munson?”

“Wh-what are you talking about, Buckley?” Covering his face with a piece of hair wasn’t enough—he wanted to melt into the floor. Had Steve really sent Robin to beat him up for being gay? That was some next level gymnastics in avoiding making physical contact with another man so that you don't seem gay.

Robin yanked at her hair and started pacing around the common area, glaring daggers into the floor (but thankfully not at him). “What am I talking about, he asks! You really are a medical grade idiot, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“No, shut up, I don’t want to hear it.” Robin abruptly swung around on her heel to rush at him and jab a finger into his chest. “You broke Steve’s heart. And I don’t care if you were never into him—because I know that you can’t help who you like, or love—but you had no right to be so fucking cruel about it!”

A penny dropped.

“Robin. What are you talking about?”

Steve was heartbroken? That didn’t make any sense. He should have been relieved, he should have—

Robin laughed, hysterical, and threw her hands into the air. “I am talking about the fact that you told my best friend who has been pining over you for fucking weeks that all of the very obvious flirting you’ve been doing ‘didn’t mean anything,’ and that you just had to let him know that you weren’t interested in him specifically.” Robin paused to take a deep breath and kept barreling on. “And I get not wanting to lead someone on, Eddie—but even I know that was the least tactful way you could have gone about letting him down.”

Eddie shook his head, backing up toward the nearest wall like a cornered animal, because what Robin was saying didn’t make any sense. “I— I don’t—I mean, I do like him. I thought he didn’t like me! I thought he was straight!”

That brought Robin up short. Her shoulders remained set into a tense line, and her brow was still furrowed in distrust, but some of the unrelenting ire slipped away. “You didn’t—? Did he not—? What the fuck, Stevie!” The last part Robin muttered under her breath.

“Did he not, what, Buckley?”

“He didn’t ask you out?”

“No. What? Was he planning to?”

“Yes, numb nuts! Steve’s been trying to ask you out for weeks! I mean I guess mostly this past week—but that’s because before then he’d just been trying to beam the knowledge directly into your head through your thick skull.”

“Oh, shit.” Eddie’s heart dropped into his stomach as the full ramifications of what he’d said caught up to him.

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit,’ Munson.”

“Buckley—” Eddie rushed over to clap both of his hands onto Robin’s shoulders. “Robin. I’ve gotta fix this.”

Robin rolled her eyes. They were still creased at the corners, but the rest of her seemed to have softened a bit. “Yeah, you do,” she said—all low and serious. “You’re gonna have to fucking grovel.”

Eddie nodded. “Can you help me?”

Robin narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But let me make one thing fucking clear, Munson: I am doing this for Steve, not you, capiche? You put one toe out of line and I’ll go to the Wheeler house and grab one of Nancy’s guns.”

Eddie held up his hands in placating surrender. “Message received, loud and clear.”

Robin nodded, satisfied.

Eddie grinned back. “Let’s go get my man.”

there is now a part two!

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie week #steddieweek2023 #steve harrington #eddie munson #(albeit a couple hours past mignight my time but that's just been my pattern thus far)#I don't want to put a steddie fic in the robin or st/bin tags but please know that robin is central to all things in steve's life #including this fic #for everyone who wanted a part two: it now exists #read writes

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