#paperbackribs writing
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update: 🐺werewolf Steve, 🦇bat Eddie completed on Ao3 here
How to survive a werewolf attack, Eddie mentally repeats to himself in a determinedly bright manner, channelling every nature documentary he’s ignored. His resolve does little to quiet the jolt of fear that had run through him as it turned into— that.
“How to survive a werewolf attack,” Eddie mutters to himself as it pads one giant paw towards him in the middle of Steve’s living room, hoping that speaking aloud will clear the bees buzzing in his brain, focusing all his thoughts in one direction: he should run.
“How the fuck do I survive a werewolf attack?” Eddie frantically yells at Dustin standing by the couch, grinning a gummy smile back at him with his hands casually thrown in his pockets.
The wolf growls lightly at his tone and Eddie’s head snaps back, alarmed that he’d allowed himself to look away from those intent yellow eyes for even a moment. But as scary as the predatory look is, the size of its head is just as terrifying. As large as Eddie’s torso with a wide, fanged mouth to match. Faintly, Eddie mentally compares one long tooth to the length of his hand.
This is how he dies Eddie realises with a thumping heart.
Not the bats.
Not Vecna.
No, a giant, golden mahogany werewolf nearly as tall as his fully grown adult body is going to open that massive mouth and swallow him down whole.
The beast stops, gaze narrowing to the pulse pounding in Eddie’s neck and he quickly slaps a hand over it, trying to limit the temptation of the tasty blood slash fresh meat vibe he must be giving off. It sits back on its heels; a movement Eddie feels shudder through the carpet at his feet and turns its head to Robin with a slight whine.
She scowls at Eddie, stepping forward to bury her hand comfortingly into the plush at its furry neck. “Don’t listen to him, Steve. He’s just being a big baby.” Shifting her fingers to scratch under its ears, the werewolf—Steve, Eddie hastily corrects himself as Robin continues to glare at him—half-closes its eyes in bliss. Though, he notes that it—he—still keeps his gaze steadily trained on Eddie.
Swallowing, Eddie tries to remember what they had just been talking about, but it’s lost in the chaotic whirlwind of his thoughts and the adrenalin urging his heels back. All of it consumed by the conviction that Eddie is prey in front of predator and about to be fed to what used to be Steve Harrington.
“Oh my god,” he moans, hands coming up to pull his hair down to hide behind, “Am I a sacrifice?”
Lucas sighs in exasperation, “I told you we should’ve showed him photos or something first.” Max makes a derisive sound and sits cross-legged next to Steve’s wide chest; he gently leans against her with a small thump of his tail. “He was always going to freak out, may as well get it over with.”
Eddie would really like to get the small child away from the massive beast right now; despite the fact that Max is a sophomore and would likely rip him a new one at even the suggestion. But it does help, seeing her casually play with the fur under her hand, and the bees die down a little, just enough to remember why they had called him here.
“You wanted to show me this—” Max squints at him and Eddie changes tack “—show me Steve turning into a wolf because you’re concerned about me.” The ridiculousness of it strikes through him, bubbling over into half-hysterical laughter. “Shouldn’t you be worried about the massive fucking fangs near Max’s head right now.”
The wolf lets out a gusty sound that Eddie can only imagine is a sigh and thumps onto his belly, stretching his head out to rest on crossed-over paws as big as dinner plates. The position should look less threatening, but all Eddie can see is how the jaw of the creature has been thrown into sharp relief, emphasising how far it could probably unhinge if given an incentive. He slaps his hand back over his pulsing neck again.
El appears by his side and he nearly jumps a foot, not having noticed her approach while focusing so fiercely on the wolf. She takes his hand, gently saying, “It is okay, Eddie. He’s only Steve and he would never hurt you.”
He keeps a hold of her hand. The Steve he’s come to know since Spring Break has seemed like a pretty good dude, sure; but, the one thing he does know, is that the guy would take a bullet for every kid in this room.
It's not cowardice to hide behind a kid, he reassures himself. Not when the kid isn’t in any danger. Max shoots him a dark look again and he suspects that she’s seen through his intentions. He clears his throat, focussing on El’s kind and reassuring squeeze of his hand, “Right. Why is Steve a werewolf?”
“Good question,” the bill of Dustin’s hat bobs in his approval, “Back in ’84 we were in these tunnels, you see and —”
“Short version, Dustin,” Robin interrupts, which is frankly ironic of her Eddie thinks, knowing she falls into extended explanations herself.
Dustin screws up his face, but condenses the story, “We were attacked by dog versions of the demogorgons and since then Steve has gone all furry whenever he wants.” He waves a hand at the prostrate wolf who continues to placidly watch their conversation, “I see where you went with werewolf but technically, he’s not forced to turn at a full moon.”
Will exchanges a look with Mike as they lean against the opposite wall, “Not technically, no. But he does get weird around it.” El tugs him to sit down with her and Max, but Eddie lets go of her hand, unwilling to let cede the high ground when it’s the only thing keeping his feet ready to run if Steve decides to demonstrate how weird he can get.
“Shouldn’t he have…” Eddie waves a hand over his face with a splaying motion of his fingers. He hasn’t seen a demogorgon yet, but the kids had described them to him, and the demo-bats apparently had the same set-up of gaping maws exploding like a fanged cross over their face.
“Another great question, Eddie,” Max rolls her eyes, “Let me just consult my instruction manual on the Upside Down and get back to you.”
“It’s a fair question, Max,” Lucas says softly and she relents, “Yeah, but he looks like he’s about to throw up and Steve would hate the mess.” The wolf snorts and nudges her with his muzzle; she lightly strokes the top of his nose with a responding smile.
“Our best guess is that the demo-dogs and demo-bats are a weird mix of actual animal and Upside Down creepiness,” Robin says, letting go of Steve to sit on the couch behind him, “And Steve got infected with the actual animal part but the woo-woo creepiness is what helps him turn into the wolf.”
Eddie’s guts turn to liquid, and he hovers suddenly uncertain hands over his body; right beside the areas still scarred from his own demo-bat bites. “Wait a second,” he rasps, “Steve got bit by the dog version and he turns into this. So if I got bit by the bat versions…”
“That’s why we’re telling you,” Lucas explains frankly, “It didn’t happen straight away with Steve so we thought that you should have a heads up at the very least.” Dustin gestures down Eddie’s body with a demanding hand, “And you can tell us if you notice any weird changes.”
“What?” Eddie asks a little wildly, “Like if my voice drops and I get hair in new and wonderful places?” Robin and Dustin exchange worried glances and the latter falls back on a soothing tone that he hasn’t managed since cornering Eddie in the boathouse while he was on the run, “There’s no guarantee that you were infected…” Robin winces at the word choice as Eddie’s eyes widen. “…but you should tell us if you notice anything different, just in case.”
Eddie wants to collapse onto the floor. Just crouch there with his hands pressed comfortingly against his eyes to shut out the insanity this afternoon has turned into. But eyeing how close Steve with his monster fangs is, Eddie refuses to get any closer. He may as well lay on his back and strip for good measure. That way Steve won’t get any denim stuck in his teeth; he thinks the last thought with a small hiccup.
The massive head raises and turns to look over its—his—shoulder with a questioning whine. Robin’s faces hardens slightly, and her arms come up to cross over her chest. “You go for a run or something, I’ve got this.”
Eddie watches those tree trunks for legs rise and feels something quake inside, doing nothing for his pounding pulse that had only just started to subside. Steve looks back at him one more time before licking Dustin’s hand and butting his head against Robin’s knee to trot through the living room towards the backyard.
Chapter 1
#steddie#werewolf steve harrington#bat eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#stranger things#paperbackribs writing
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@griefabyss69 @pennyplainknits @paperbackribs @spectrum-spectre @cranberrymoons @steddie-island i think the people want to know about Indubitably to Suck a Dick 😂😂
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ITSAD is an unbelievably stupid crack fic idea i had after remembering an old poetry lesson from a high school summer writing workshop and then thinking about how eddie munson would terrorize his english teachers. it’s terrible i love it you can read the first part here. and a fresh snippet where that part left off below:
“You’re both showing off,” Frank cuts in as he steps up to his locker. “And why are you pissing off Ms. Harbert on purpose, man? I thought you were trying to graduate this time.”
Wow. Eddie blinks at him. “Well, hello to you, too, man, Jesus Christ. Who pissed in your Cheerios?”
“Probably Candace,” Jeff says.
“Probably fuck off,” Frank suggests.
“Yep. Definitely Candace.”
Frank groans and shuts his locker, knocks his forehead against the door. Eddie leans a shoulder against the cool metal and levels him with an earnest look, dropping his voice. “She turn you down for Valentine’s day?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Ouch. That’s a yes. And a bad one, too, judging by how miserable Frank’s voice sounds when he says it. Eddie sucks his teeth in sympathy.
Jeff offers no such thing. “Are you two losers done feeling sorry for yourselves now? I want to get to rehearsal.”
Little asshole. Dude always knows just what to say to get them out of a funk, works like a charm every time — not because it’s the correct response, but because Frank and Eddie both start going in on him so hard that they forget to mope entirely, hollering “Wooooow!” and “Seriously, man??” and “Go fuck yourself, Jeff!”
“Yeah, Jeff!”
“You know,” Eddie says conversationally to Frank, “I’m told getting popped in the mouth hurts especially bad with braces.”
“Damn right, it does,” Frank nods, and then they’re laughing, snickering like a bunch of dorks in a nearly empty hallway, which, like. They should probably clear out of. The roaming packs of after-school jocks will be prowling around here soon enough, and threats of violence are only funny when you know nobody means that shit.
#thank you all for sharing the brain cell with me today lmaooo#wip game#writing game#my writing#my wips#steddie#eddie munson#corroded coffin#jeff stranger things#unnamed freak stranger things#but his name is FRANKLIN
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An Ego Thing (update)
THIS PART IS NEARLY DONE. JUST WAIT A BIT LONGER. Here’s a snippet as an apology for making you guys wait so long (I’ll post the full thing so so so so soon, I promise. It’s so close to being done.)
Listening to “The View Between Villages (extended)” by Noah Kahan while writing this was like…I kind of just zoned out and wrote whatever came to mind.
TAGGING EVERYBODY SO THAT THEY CAN SEE MY APOLOGY (I AM SO FUCKING SORRY IT’S TAKING SO LONG BUT I AM VERY BUSY):
@strangersteddierthings
@different-tale-student
@nburkhardt
@i-less-than-three-you
@paintsplatteredandimperfect
@heaven428
@swimmingbirdrunningrock
@estrellami-1
@multimediawhxre
@anaibis
@paperbackribs
@merricatty
@phantomcat94
@goodolefashionedloverboi
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination
@starman-jpg
@queenie-ofthe-void
(I think that’s everyone. Sorry if I missed someone)
#Sorry if it’s shit#It’s almost midnight where I am right now#And I am tired#but I am having fun writing and listening to Noah Kahan#And I like to think that Steve and Robin never really told anybody about what happened in the bathroom at Starcourt#Except once Robin vaguely filled Eddie in because he was curious on how she came out to Steve and how Steve reacted to it#But she left out a lot of details#Just saying that it was in a bathroom while they were in Starcourt and kind of high#And that steve reacted fine#An Ego Thing By Finn#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#Robin Buckley#platonic stobin#stobin friendship#platonic soulmates stobin#platonic with a capital p#stranger things fanfic
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Writing patterns 👀
rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!
Thank you @hairstevington for the tag! It was really fun to see yours <3
Steve didn't have the heart to tell the kids about how Billy didn't back off after Max's threat. (From The Fallen King and the King of the Freaks)
Robin looked at Steve, her arms pillowing her head on the Family Video counter. (From A Wedding for the End of the World)
Steve couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by everything. (From I don't know what you're hunting. It's not me, it's something else)
Eddie Munson always knew he wasn’t very smart. (From But Now We're Stressed Out)
It happened on a Tuesday. (From you're losing your memory now)
Eddie Munson was pissed off. (From But when I touch her I feel like I'm cheating on you)
His relationship with Nancy had been blooming. (From I'm just gonna swim until you love me)
Steve stumbled out of the mall, the paramedics and government soldiers pushing them along. (From This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets)
Jason Carver was a dick. (From I know you've been hurtin')
Steve sits on the hospital bed for what felt like the hundredth time but this time was different. (From I'm going to live my life with you - part of the We're Not Perfect series)
Okay so... we're going to ignore the fact that I was worried I haven't written ten stories when I had plenty to choose from lol.
Anyways imma tag @paperbackribs <3
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Tagged by @emchant3d, thank you for including me!
Rules: In a new post, list the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
Not all of these are full works so much as ideas or things I am very strongly considering writing, but here's... some stuff? (I also don't have WIP folder, I just dump everything in one document, so most of these don't even have file names, have mercy on me I did my best)
SBB Project 096
Hands Where I Can See Them
StrTh BarbaraHarrington/Steve's Mom/Theseus' Ship (this is spread across three documents for some reason)
Siren!Steve
Actually infertile omega!Steve
Something something Steve has OCD
Bob adopts Steve
Mom says it's my turn to write about Eddie finding out about the fight between Billy and Steve post-S2
Tagging, but no obligation (sorry if I'm catching people who've already been tagged!): @theysherobinbuckley @tboyeddie @paperbackribs @finntheehumaneater @riality-check @momotonescreaming @zerokrox-blog @devondespresso
#askbox games#we're having a blizzard and I'm running on five hours of sleep so I assure you that you will probably get more of an answer than you want#but you will definitely get an answer if you ask
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An addition to this story here.
Edit: Now a finished fic on Ao3 or tumblr
What if Witch Steve can see that Eddie has two roads ahead of him and worries that Dustin's about to lose his beloved mentor and friend?
Before they leave to battle Vecna,Steve gives Eddie a marble to swallow. A glass sphere swirling with warm browns and flecks of gold.
Eddie doesn't have the best impulse control at the best of times and gobbles it down easily. Besides, he's come to trust this kind version of a boy he never really knew. Strangely, the marble doesn't stick in his throat; rather, it's warm and comforting as it slides down. Like hot chocolate after a cold shock.
Vecna is defeated but as the team come back Steve can hear Dustin's cries. And there, still and silent and bloody, is the body of Eddie who took the road Steve had hoped he wouldn't.
Steve gently moves Dustin into Nancy's arms and turns to their dead friend. He pushes his hand down and through until he finds an answering pulse, a connecting warmth and pulls, pulls, pulls as hard as he can.
From that moment onwards, as Eddie draws a shuddering breath, Steve will look out through one rich hazel eye while the other is white and sightless. But Dustin will have Eddie. And later, although he doesn't know it yet, Steve will too.
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Eddie silently admits to being a sappy devotee to the man in front of him as he shuffles into their kitchen. Blearily, he sits down at the kitchen island while watching Steve do his stupidly cute morning dance. Between one slide of his stockinged feet and the little shimmy with the hand clap, Steve brews their coffee while flipping pancakes.
He has Eddie's mug doctored, ready, and so very tempting when he runs the delicious brew under and away from his nose. Instead of allowing Eddie his sweet, sweet salvation, Steve grins. "Knock knock," he sings cheerfully.
Eddie peers up and through his curls, calculating his odds and deciding on the fastest route to the sweet bean juice. "Who's there?"
Steve smiles playfully and pushes Eddie's mug into his grateful palms. "Eyesore."
He really does love this dork. "Eyesore who," Eddie asks with fond resignation.
Steve swivels to slide a plate of pancakes in front of Eddie, sliced strawberries making a heart on its top. "Eyesore do like you!"
It's embarrassing and a little silly, but Eddie can't help but give his man syrupy kisses after their Valentine's breakfast.
#steddie#valentines day#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#established relationship#paperbackribs writing
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A Part 2 to Witch Steve and his Marble? Maybe a continuation of the world, rather than a Part.
....
"What did you do?" Nancy demands. The cold glare of the fluorescent lights freezes Steve as effectively as her glare.
"What I could," he answers.
….
"What could I have done?" Dustin asks faintly, the beeping of Eddie's monitor echoing quietly in the small room.
"You did everything humanly possible, Dust." Steve responds. Robin takes his hand in hers and squeezes.
…
"What was the price?" Robin murmurs. She doesn't look him in the eye and he knows it's for her comfort as much as it's for his.
"Nothing I wouldn't give a thousandfold again for," Steve answers.
…
Eddie wakes. He watches the delicate way that Dustin, Nancy, and Robin move around Steve. He stares, fascinated, at the difference between Steve's two eyes now. One a warm hazel and the other a vibrant white. He's alive. They're all alive. But he watches Steve's steady gaze and he doesn't know which question to ask first.
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Taglist
Please consider reblogging, my friends.
Now, I may be being a thirsty bitch but some of you seemed to want more. So I've tagged you accordingly and let me know if I'm totes off base and I won't bother you again. Also, either way, sorry for the presumption to bother you >.<
(Seemingly) Eplicit request to know more
@a-gae-af-racoon, @scoops-stevie, @spectrum-spectr, @nburkhardt, @oliver-sykes, @tartarusknight
Implicit interest in knowing more
@goodolefashionedloverboi, @abyssal808, @thesewingskeepmesafe, @everyrandomthing, @matchingbatbites
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for the 'Eddie freaks out over How to Survive a Werewolf Attack' post and those who missed the upload on Ao3, this is the second part of the chapter from Steve's POV, with a little protective stobin to delight
🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇
Steve leaves the pulse of the woods behind him as he emerges from the trees that abut his backyard. He’d smelled Robin long before shifting back into his human form, the sharp mint of her shampoo mixing alongside the sweet earthiness that he now attributes to family. Never having had one, he nevertheless knows that the combination will always mean sister.
Circling the pool, its night lights cast an uncanny, rippling blue across the surface, he heads to where she sits under the warm yellow lights, propped on her elbows against the wrought-iron patio table. In her cupped hands rests a book with an overflowing tree protectively sheltering a dog and her pups, Woman and Nature carefully inscribed above them.
She stirs as he approaches, inserting a receipt between the pages to save her place and resting it beside her. Looking into her concerned eyes, Steve grimaces. “Well, that went well,” he says lightly, feeling the need to inject some humour into the memory or he may be tempted to dwell on the ache that wants to rise instead.
Robin’s face softens and he knows that she can feel his hurt even without him saying it. They’re so connected sometimes that he wonders if his wolf forged something with her when they’d sat there, bound and interrogated by Russians, only able to depend on each other. “He was a little freaked out from the unexpected is all and he just needs to get used to the idea before…”
She trails off and Steve finishes her sentence, “Before he can be in the same room as me? Robs, the guy practically had a panic attack on my mother’s Giorgetti rug. I could smell his fear: he was terrified that I was going to eat him or something.”
Robin’s lips firm as she drums her fingers over the book cover, “Yeah, well, that’s his problem. After you left, we gave him the rundown; that you’re just a normal wolf—”
Steve snorts: there’s nothing normal about his transformations at all, but Robin ignores him to continue, “—and hopefully if he’s affected by the bites then it’ll turn him into a normal bat too.”
“And how’d he take that?” Steve asks curiously.
“Oh, another meltdown,” Robin says blithely, “He’s now convinced that he’s going to turn into Bela Lugosi and will be prowling the night for his victims before we know it.” Steve laughs despite himself, already able to imagine Eddie making exaggerated gestures in the middle of the group.
“Did he hiss like a vampire?”
“Nah, but he did do that thing, you know with the cape?” She shields half her face with her forearm as if hiding menacingly behind it. Fond amusement fills Steve, as if often does when faced with Eddie’s dramatics only for it to quickly drain away at the reminder of how drastically he had taken Steve’s shift.
Robin notes his change of mood and scowls at an absent Eddie. “Scaredy-cat,” she mutters darkly, “Should have called him a scaredy-bat to his face.”
Steve chuckles and leans forward to gently tug on a lock of her blonde hair, “And then give him my nail bat…”
“So, he’d be a scaredy-bat with a nail bat that lost his bat-le shield.”
Steve waggles his hand in a so-so motion, “Could use some work.”
“Oh, screw you, buddy, I did all the work,” Robin’s eyes dance with humour even as she pokes him with a sharp finger at his ribs. Steve squirms away, “I gave you the nail bat!” He mock protests before the image of Eddie’s wide and terrified eyes crosses his mind again. He sighs, “Do you think I should avoid him for a while? Let him get used to the idea before springing myself on him again?”
Robin leans back with a too wide smile, its awkwardness immediately transparent. “What?” Steve asks suspiciously.
Her brow furrows in an apology that gives lie to the smile, “We’re meeting back here tomorrow. El thinks that she might be able to lead him through a change if he’s got it in him, and we all thought it better to get the potential of it all out of the way before Eddie devolves into one big puddle of fear.”
Rubbing the bridge of his forehead, Steve sighs, “So, not only is he freaked out by the sight of me but I’m going to see him in the next twenty-four hours.”
Robin looks at her bulky men’s watch with a grimace, “More like twelve. We figured that we should get it over sooner or later, and this way he can work out whether he wants to freak out over being a bat or a vampire.”
“Or neither,” Steve points out.
She shrugs, “It seems unlikely, right? Correlation doesn’t equal causation, and you may be the outlier, the one cool weirdo out there.”
“Thank you,” he says dryly even though he does appreciate her positive spin on his furry little situation.
It had been months after the events over Halloween, when he’d been bitten by a demo-dog, that he’d started to notice the first few small changes. At first, he’d been convinced that it was the world that had transformed: smells becoming deeper, sights becoming sharper, but after one night where he had been panicked to find that his feet were no longer so far away, and suspiciously clawed, that he’d come to the realisation that it was his senses that had evolved, not the sun or the trees or the perfume of his history teacher.
The kids, while excited, had been very little help, but their encouragement had made him feel less alone. He took Dustin’s attempt to turn him into a science experiment in stride and as an extension of the little butthead’s support. But it was when Robin had been brought into the Upside Down fold that he’d felt truly embraced.
Surprisingly, rather than turning to books and research, she’d listened to him instead. Asked Steve what he wanted to be called when he was turned and let him talk about the oddities and freedoms he’d found in this new version of himself.
Steve had already known that the wolf would be a part of him forever, but Robin’s role in his life had cemented that feeling into a bone-deep acceptance, an understanding that he wasn’t weird or wrong for his new transformation, but that it was simply another part of Steve. Or Furry Steve as Robin would gently tease him.
“Are you staying over?” He asks now, watching her smother a yawn and nod in agreement.
He stands, waiting until she walks through the door before flipping the light switch off, the flurry of moths above flutter in confusion at the sudden darkness. “We can practise some more on the way home tomorrow if you like.”
Robin had gained her license a month ago, but with no car to drive Steve was building her confidence by having her drive his. She often teased that their love was a true one since she’s the only one allowed to touch the bimmer.
Wrapping an arm around his waist, they walk through the kitchen and head to his bedroom in unspoken agreement. “That’d be great. Do you want to wolf-out or be on your side of the bed,” she counters sleepily, leaving her book on the counter as they pass.
He hums, thinking. Months ago, after they’d worked out that the Upside Down nightmares were better handled when they knew the other one was in the room, Robin had struggled with having Steve in her bed.
It’s not that he wasn’t welcome, she’d reassured him, or wanted, she’d said with a haunted expression, clearly thinking of having woken up silently screaming not moments before. But having his skin touch hers made her irritable in a way that she had no explanation for. Fur, however, was fine.
Since then, if Steve needed cuddles he was allowed to wolf-out, as they decided to call it. Once transformed, Robin had no problem with Steve’s fur covering her skin; rather, she quite liked the partial weight of his body.
He thinks that tonight he’d like the reassurance that there is one person who is not only unafraid of him but likes the differences that make him not-quite-human.
“Wolf-out,” he responds, letting go and allowing the wolf to unfold. The sweet musk of the kids sharpens, even with them having departed hours ago, as does the appealingly darker scent of Eddie, although it is bitterer than it normally is as if his fear had saturated the small space.
His tail drops sadly at the reminder, but Robin distracts him with scritches behind the ear before leading their way up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve pads behind, happy to have a friend in Robin and determinedly putting Eddie out of his mind for the rest of the night.
If you enjoyed any of this drop me a comment over at Ao3, it'd make my day! (fic now titled Swift Wings and a Brave Heart)
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Witch Steve
(working title)
next: Chapter 2: The Aftermath
So 👉👈 You were all so encouraging that I was inspired to write 14 chapters of Witch Steve. This will eventually be going up on Ao3, but while I'm finishing it up and re-editing I'll post the start of it all on Tumblr.
Chapter content: steddie to come, platonic stobin, ~2K words.
Edit/Update: This is a 15 chapter fic. Ao3 here.
Chapter 1 The Sacrifice
Robin fiddles with the vodka bottle full of gasoline in her hands, “…in the face of the world ending, the stakes of my love life feel spectacularly low.”
She sighs, stuffing one of their rags into the mouth of the clear glass and completing their next Molotov cocktail. Steve watches the resignation on her face and thinks that if anyone deserves to have a moment of love and joy in the face of the world ending, it’s Robin.
It’s all of them, he reflects, looking out onto the grassy clearing.
The forest of trees behind Lucas and Erica reminds him of where they will be taking their battle to shortly. Vecna waiting in the Upside Down like a venomous spider in his web. Manipulating the troubled emotions and frightening visions of his victims, ready to break them in more than one way for his selfish desires.
Exuberant laughter draws his eyes over Nancy tailoring her weapon to Dustin as he dodges Eddie’s outstretched hands. Fondness rises within Steve like the warmth of rising bread. The fading sun frames the two boys as Eddie speaks earnestly into Dustin’s grinning face, the bond between them obvious even from here.
“Maybe it’s not the time for romance,” he admits, pensive as he watches Eddie tackle Dustin to the ground with a cackle. “But isn't love the most important thing when it is the end of the world.”
Robin knocks her knees amicably against his and he knows that this is her way of saying she loves him. He smiles back at her; he loves her too. He says it silently because he does, more than he can say at this moment. The words heavy and stuck at the back of his throat.
He wishes she could have had her moment with Vickie before they face the coming danger. The fragility of their situation leaves him with a disturbing feeling of unease churning in his gut.
It’s the fear of losing Robin that further feeds into Steve’s increasing sense of foreboding, making his teeth clench and nails dig into his palms. He has to Know, Steve decides; he needs to make sure there is hope for a later where love and romance can be indulged.
In the heart of the quiet afternoon, Steve allows the sounds of the boys roughhousing and Erica’s sharp, but not unkind, words to become muffled. While he relaxes his fists and Robin fades from his sight, Steve unfurls his uncanny gift to see into the murky depths of their futures. He hears a soft, haunting melody reaching out to him through the ethereal and a glimmering sheen covers his vision.
Like a weaver of fate, he gently unravels the white threads of destiny that intertwine around the lives of those he cherishes. Even Eddie, new to the party but just as entrenched in their fight, running scared; yet Steve thinks, just as courageously meeting the more experienced members toe to toe.
And it is only Eddie’s fate that gleams a terrible ox-blood red, a twisted tapestry of the future revealing a grim reality. Steve’s unease deepens as he Sees two roads diverging before Eddie, each leading to vastly different destinies.
One road, he is unsurprised to find, is golden bright and brilliant, full of joy, love, and friendship. This Eddie would be the guiding light for those he loves and who will love him just as fiercely as he holds them to his heart.
Steve swallows over the hard knot in his throat at the thought of all the beauty that is stolen if Eddie loses that path: because the other is shrouded in a terrible darkness.
If Eddie chooses this road, a jagged tear will be torn through the tapestry of too many lives. An unravelling thread that leads to the frayed fabric of its survivors in a way that Steve thinks the self-deprecating Eddie would never suspect.
Aside from family, only one other person knows Steve’s truth. Keeps his secret close to her breast, alongside twin confessions on a bathroom floor. Robin haltingly refusing Steve’s advances to favour Tammy Thompson and Steve blurting out that he comes from a long line of Witches. Taught at his nana’s knee and made to understand that this is something just as private to him as Robin understands her sexuality to be to her.
He watches Dustin’s wide smile, still innocent amongst a grim collection of dark moments, and Knows that this will be a turning point for his young friend. One in which Dustin lives a life spirited and mirthful or another irrecoverable scarred and linked to a critical event of grief and regret. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine and he decides he can’t stand idly by, watching as Eddie teeters on the precipice of these two divergent paths.
Drawing from long lessons of heritage and the power he and his kind hold, Steve decides on a potent action that will allow him to weave a new pattern.
---
Scarlet lightning roars in the darkness behind Eddie and Dustin as the boys wait for Steve, Robin and Nancy to depart and attack Vecna. The trailer behind the boys is tightly wrapped in the sinister vines of the Upside Down and the smell of sulphur rains down with the grey ash that coats the world in a bitter blanket. Steve watches the ghostly flakes drift onto the cloud of Eddie’s bound-back hair, and he knows that this is the moment that he readied for.
Steve reaches out to Eddie with his uncanny gift — a glass sphere, like a marble, is cradled innocently at the centre of his hand. It is as big as an apricot pit and strangely swirls with warm browns and flecks of gold, like the gentle play of sunlight flickering through to a forest floor. Steve holds his open palm out to Eddie, his hazel eyes filled with a heartfelt entreaty.
"Eddie," he asks softly, "take the marble and swallow it. Please, trust me."
Even in the short time that Steve has known Eddie, he gets that the other guy isn’t known for his impulse control. Despite this, he’s still somewhat surprised when Eddie, with no hesitation, takes the marble and swallows it down. Doe-eyed pools of warm brown look up at him through dark bangs.
“I do,” Eddie shrugs with a mysterious smile.
“What was that” Dustin shrieks, the faux military tags he had insisted on wearing jingling in agitation.
Robin stays silent behind him; Steve knows she’s holding her questions for later, having cottoned onto that he was up to something mystical when he’d hidden in the RV for a while. Only clasping his arm briefly in support when he had walked past, sweating and still pale.
Nancy though is just as surprised as Dustin and looks on at them suspiciously.
Eddie knocks an arm lightly into Dustin’s side, “I don’t know, but it tastes like hot chocolate. Warm,” he chuckles softly, “even comforting.” He turns questioning eyes back to Steve, “but, yeah, what was that?”
Steve feels how tight his smile is. “A little insurance.”
He talks to both of them, trying to instil them to obey by the force of his words alone. Knows that Dustin can be a stubborn little shit. “Just… if this goes south, I mean, at all. You abort.” But his focus turns, inevitably, to Eddie. “Don’t be a hero, man. Okay?”
A flash of emotion crosses Eddie’s face too quickly for Steve to understand before he slings an arm around Dustin’s skinny shoulders. “Of course, look at us. We are not heroes.” Under his hoodie and headband, Dustin grimaces in agreement.
The deep feeling of foreboding in his gut is untouched by their reassurance, but Steve doesn’t bother to unravel his Sight again. He’s done what he can and now he follows the girls to battle Vecna and maybe free them all from this nightmare once and for damn good.
As they travel through the dark forest, neither girl notices the small glowing pulse that Steve presses to each of them. The marks fade softly before the other can notice it. Transported by a light brush over Nancy’s tight shoulders and a firm squeeze of Robin’s sweaty hand in his.
The attack against Vecna is fierce but the three of them have never struck more certain or true. Steve with his axe, Robin and her cocktails, and Nancy with the shorn-off shotgun. Their attacks land every time and between their physical assault and Max’s diversion, something must go right because the world shudders once, then twice, but stays steady before Vecna screams harshly and his pale, grotesque body falls broken to floor. His web of terror finally shattered.
The rest of the decrepit house, vines and all, quickly catch from the blazing gasoline and the three stumble after each other, racing to the still-rancid outdoor air. But it’s air free of Vecna and that makes it all the sweeter.
With a whoop, Robin jumps into Steve’s waiting arms and breathlessly he swings her in joy. Resting his forehead on hers, he knows she can see every nuance of his relief, sensing him finally releasing the suffocating fear of the Upside Down. “This is it, Robin. I can feel it.” Steve exclaims.
Robin’s blue eyes, which sometimes can be so cynical for a person this young, gleam in belief. Belief in Steve and that he can See the truth of it all. She wraps her hands around his shoulders and is shaking in a combination of comfort and ebbing adrenalin. “Thank god,” she breathes.
“Let’s hope so,” Nancy interrupts. But she’s looking on at them with a small smile.
Steve knows it will take a long time for her to believe that it is true. And she doesn’t have the benefit of Steve’s Knowing as they do. But she’ll get there, he thinks. Much like it will take them all time to heal, they will. And the kids will bounce back, he thinks with faith. They’ve been made to be too resilient for children their age but he’s grateful for it, nonetheless.
It’s at the thought of Dustin that Steve remembers Eddie and those two paths he had seen; he urges the girls on, back to the uncanny version of the trailer park. Impatience sparking through to his fingertips.
They’ve not quite reached it yet when Steve hears the haunting cries of anguish that echo through the empty forest and roads of the Upside Down.
Dustin is hunched over the still-warm but devastatingly motionless body of his beloved Dungeon Master and friend. Bright red blood spills everywhere, coating Dustin's hands and across his face where he has smeared a hand over his cheeks. Eyes filled with tears and pain, Dustin looks up at Steve and cries out that the older boy had tried to save him.
“He said he didn’t run, Steve. But he did. He did. He ran to the demo-bats and they— they—"
Dustin starts hiccupping between tears and short, frantic breaths. He grabs at Eddie’s camouflage jacket, shaking the body as if it will jolt the older boy awake.
“Eddie!” Dustin cries. His voice, often bigger and louder than his short body would seem, breaks through the empty quiet of the Upside Down. No more swarming bats or jagged bolts of red lightning to distract from the palpable sense of grief saturating into their tired bodies. The only cruel answer is the flakes of ash gathering over Eddie’s unresponsive body like this terrible world is already trying to bury him away.
Steve’s heart is breaking, he feels the crack of it cleanly through his chest and in the thickening at the back of his throat and burning behind his eyes. But he is not powerless; this is exactly what he prepared for.
With a firm, yet gentle hand, Steve unlocks Dustin’s stiff fingers and shifts him into Nancy’s waiting embrace. She tries to turn him in her arms, but Dustin refuses to look away.
Nancy must think that Steve is going to quietly close the lids over Eddie’s blank eyes, which should be bright and expressive; eyes that were full of mischief just hours ago. Or that Steve will try to pick up the body and take it back with them, impossible as it seems in the moment, to think of carrying a heavy and limp weight vertically and against gravity where climbing through the Upside Down gates, with only their own bodies to support them, had been hard enough.
He’s not going to do any of those things, Steve thinks fiercely. He won’t need to.
With an unwavering determination, Steve drops to his knees and pushes his left hand down, through and deep into the realm of the mystical, until he finds an answering beat, a corresponding warmth. He pulls, straining with every ounce of physical and spiritual strength he possesses. A pearlescent light suddenly pushes out from Steve's link to Eddie, it pours unendingly into the dark landscape before pulsing sharply. The ethereal cuts precisely through the unclean atmosphere before rapidly shrinking back into the connection between the two boys.
Steve's own spirit is being drained, a live wire shooting up his arm and threading through every vein of his body in a white, blinding heat. But Steve knows that it is in this critical moment where he could lose his own body and soul, where the world hangs in the balance between life and death, that something miraculous can happen.
And it does.
Eddie draws a shuddering breath and his eyelids flutter open. His chest starts to rise even as his gaze looks unsteadily out into the living world once more.
“Steve?” he whispers hoarsely.
“I’ve got you, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, checking that the wounds are healing under the slick blood. His left arm is numb, but he uses the shaking right to examine Eddie’s torso where jagged gashes are rapidly closing over.
“It’s all right, we’ll get you help, you’re gonna be okay."
“No, Steve, your eyes…” Eddie lifts a shaking finger to touch Steve’s face, leaving a red fingerprint behind to mark Steve with the very essence of his mortal life.
Steve knows what he must see since this has worked. Because reality is not the same as when Eddie had closed his eyes for seemingly the last time. As Eddie returned from the brink of death, Steve now sees the world through one rich hazel eye, while the other will remain forever white and sightless, an eerie testament to the price paid to mend the shattered threads of destiny.
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#witchsteve#steddie#platonic stobin#stobin#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#dustin henderson#paperbackribs writing
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Clear Lungs, Full Heart
content: alpha Steve Harrington, omega Eddie Munson
Eddie wasn’t surprised to work out that Steve is an Alpha. If anyone was born to fuss and fret over the safety and well-being of a pack, it’s him.
He’d assumed as much from a distance: you don’t often get shoulders that broad or hands that big in the other secondary genders. But any awareness Eddie had of him fell away when the golden boy of Hawkins High dropped into obscurity, one day up and deciding to avoid the Tigers and the sycophants that came with them.
At the time, Eddie had shrugged. He could care less about the goings-on of one more rich, athletic asshole. Now, having survived the Upside Down, he’s learned that Steve Harrington is not only a good dude, but he is the tank, the protector, the sword and shield that guards the kids in their fellowship of heroes and has helped save the world on more than one occasion.
Could an omega be blamed for feeling a little stirred in the face of all that?
And it’s a good face too, Eddie mulls, watching the afternoon light pour lovingly over Steve’s strong features. Having found a mutual appreciation for Steve Martin, the two of them are about to watch The Three Amigos in Steve's lounge. Eddie is enjoying a pre-film smoke outside before they begin while Steve keeps him company.
He taps the cigarette in his hand, ashing it to the cement below as he watches Steve shift and drum his fingers restlessly. Steve paces to the edge of the pool, looking down at the building foliage on the surface and clicks his tongue. “I should’ve cleaned this weekend.” He glances up at Eddie but looks away almost immediately.
Eddie exhales a plume of smoke, pursing his lips as Steve walks to the kitchen door before pacing back again. Shoving his hands into the back pockets of his blue jeans, Steve stares resolutely at the woods that abut his backyard.
That is until Eddie inhales and exhales smoke once more, which is when he twitches. Swaying to his side like he’s about to lean into Eddie before abruptly straightening again.
All of this Eddie watches with a vague sense of entertainment. Steve’s as jittery as if he’s got ants in his pants, but his lips are pressed tightly together. “All right,” Eddie says finally before Steve loses it, “What’s going on with you?”
He taps the building ash and Steve glances over before swiftly turning back to the woods. “It’s stupid,” he mutters even as a light blush forms on the high of his cheeks.
Eddie grins, his curiosity only ratcheting at the betraying flush of blood under thin skin. “Oh, now I have to know, Stevie.” He holds his hands behind his back while leaning forward in a coy manner, “What’s got you all riled up?”
A thrill of excitement sparks through him as Steve’s eyes flicker over his lips like he can’t help but stare, but he only sighs and looks away to the woods. “It’s nothing. Just Robin getting in my head about health stuff.”
Eddie straightens abruptly, throwing his cigarette away to latch a hand onto Steve’s arm. All playfulness dying at the idea that Steve is unwell. “Are you okay?”
Catching his expression, Steve’s face softens and he places his hand over Eddie’s, gently squeezing it in gratitude. “Nothing like that. It’s about you.”
Eddie’s mind stutters: is he sick and no one told him? It’s only when Steve snorts that he realises that he accidentally said that out loud. “No,” Steve repeats, gaze flickering to the curl of smoke rising above the still-lit cigarette at their feet. “It’s just,” the red across his cheeks deepen and he looks away before finally blowing out a breath to say in a rush, “They’rebadforthepups.”
Eddie wiggles his finger in his ear, sure that he’d misheard the jumble of words, “Say again.”
Steve raises one hand over his eyes, hiding behind it as he repeats more slowly, “They’re bad for the pups. Smoking, that is. Cigarettes can cause cleft palates and make them weaker in the womb. That’s what Robin says anyway, but I tend to trust her about these things.
“Steve,” Eddie says slowly, “I’m not pregnant.”
“I know,” Steve says with gritted teeth, still hiding behind his hand and refusing to look up.
“I’m not even seeing anyone.”
Steve hums a noise that makes it clear he knows how ridiculous he sounds right now, but Eddie’s still confused because, if he’s not even pregnancy adjacent, why would Steve care? “Do you know anyone else that’s become pregnant recently?” He ventures, trying to unravel this mystery.
“Nope,” Steve’s voice is high and strained with cheeks a glowing crimson to rival the burning cherry at their feet. Eddie sniffs the air surreptitiously while Steve’s not looking, opening his mouth slightly to allow any nuances to filter in.
His tastebuds are subtly coated in the green, earthy aroma of freshly cut grass on a summer’s day, filling Eddie with the familiar sensation of safe and happy. But other than a general sense of identity there is very little for Eddie to tease out, no great sense of emotion or purpose within the invisible indicators inherent to all alphas, omegas and even, to a lesser extent, betas.
As he often does and despite his awkwardness, Steve is keeping a tight rein on his pheromones, leaving Eddie with no clues but for what he can see and hear.
“But you’re concerned about my imaginary pups being hurt by my real smoking habits?”
Steve huffs a short laugh at Eddie’s description and he must have decided to own his embarrassment because he drops his hand and adopts a wry expression. “Yes, which is why it’s stupid of me to be worried, and also pretty fucking rude since it’d be none of my business anyway.”
Watching Steve’s eyes dip to Eddie’s waist only to quickly flit away like he doesn’t want to be caught, Eddie starts to form a suspicion. A little niggle that has hope stuttering in his chest. He stops closer again, tilting his head so that his scent freely wafts through the air, the crisp and clean smell of fresh rainfall teases at the edge of Steve’s earthy soil.
Blinking in surprise, Steve’s nostrils reflexively flare, and his hooded eyes drop to the slim column of Eddie’s neck, a heavy, flickering flame steadily building in their depths.
“Steve,” Eddie breathes, letting his breath caress across his lips, licking his own, and watching Steve’s pupils expand. “Yeah, Eddie,” his voice is full of gravel.
“Would you perhaps be concerned because you keep imagining a possibility…”
Steve’s lashes flutter and he draws a steadying breath, mouth parting like he’s testing the air around them. Eddie wonders what exactly Steve smells, thinking that perhaps freshly fallen rain is blooming into thickening clouds, a coming tempest fuelled by anticipation.
“…Maybe even that you might want to be the reason why I’d have pups to protect.”
Steve exhales in a shudder, one large hand reaching out to grip Eddie’s hip as if to keep him from running. He leans in close, drawing the edge of his nose over Eddie’s cheekbone, down to his neck and nuzzling under his hair. Eddie’s breath catches, the hunger that had started low in his belly rising to a heated simmer. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” Steve growls against his skin.
He presses forward and Eddie gasps, hands flying up to spear through Steve’s hair as he licks a firm wet stripe against his scent gland. Steve sets his mouth over it and suckles, leaving Eddie a moaning mess with the decadent pleasure rippling through him.
Steve draws back, expression almost feral while drawing Eddie’s hips closer, pressing him against his burgeoning length, “Eddie, tell me if this is dumb, tell me that I’m out of my mind—”
The keen bewitchment on Steve’s face has delight popping through Eddie’s chest like fizzy soda and confidence begins to steadily fill him; Steve finally wants him back and Eddie is going to seize the chance while he can. “I think,” Eddie interrupts playfully, pressing little kisses against his jaw before completing his sentence, “That we’re going to come back to that kink you’ve got knocking up around there, but for now…”
“For now…” Steve asks hopefully, voice wreaked, and Eddie takes him by the hand, drawing him through the door, into the kitchen, and hopefully further. “For now,” he answers, “I think we should be doing some practising.”
Steve laughs, a loud open sound of joy and he scoops Eddie up before he rounds the kitchen island, propping Eddie on the counter and tilting his head up to take his lips once more, a collision of passion that he obviously savours by the low rumble sounding at the back of his throat. The noise is almost a deep purr unlike any Eddie has heard before and he draws back, nibbling on Steve’s silky lip before teasing, “You keep that up and I’ll think you’re putting on a mating display.”
If he weren’t so close, Eddie may have missed the flicker of alarm that crossed Steve’s face at his words, but he does see it and it cools his ardour somewhat.
Alphas purr, it’s what they do. Sometimes to convey pleasure or contentment, for pack bonding and sometimes in healing, and, at the exclusive end of the spectrum, as a display to attract mates. He’d thought that Steve’s worrying about second-hand smoke had to do with some sex thing, a pregnancy kink that Eddie managed to trigger somehow. But by the reserved expression that briefly crosses his face, Eddie wonders whether he’s underestimated the situation.
Nevertheless, Steve tries to shrug off his brief, faltering moment by smiling slyly and falling back onto old alpha stereotypes, “We’re always throwing our weight around one way or another, right.” Chuckling like Eddie’s in on the joke he presses forward, but Eddie draws back, placing a finger over Steve’s now pouting lips.
Because, yeah, knotheads like to throw their growls and roars and other vocalisations around, just as easily as pushing out their pheromones to mark their territory. Or, Eddie wryly acknowledges, what they usually think is their territory, but Steve is very different.
From the moment Eddie had fallen into the unfortunate adventure that had been Spring Break, all the way through his recovery from the demo-bat injuries and even now as a member of the found family that is this pack, Steve has always been very careful about how he presents around them all.
He’ll scent the kids for protection, just a casual tussle of the hair or with a friendly headlock, and he’ll scent Robin in an extension of the deep bond of siblings, but otherwise, he keeps his hands and pheromones to himself. The closest Eddie’s ever heard to a hierarchical growl from the guy was after Lucas jumped from the trees into the pool, missing the concrete edge by an inch and turning Steve livid at the risk he’d taken.
And with Eddie, he’s been the most careful of all.
Eddie had taken his distance to mean that Steve was uninterested in him, as an omega at least. He’d taken his friendly overtures and what has become a treasured friendship as a signal that Steve wants Eddie as a buddy but nothing more. Yet the hard grip Steve has on his hips and the heat in his eyes tell Eddie two very different things.
“What was Robin saying that got you thinking about all this?” He asks, knowing that Steve can be stubborn and that the best way to get into his head at times is through a roundabout route.
Correctly reading that Eddie won’t be diverted from his tangent, Steve sighs, tipping back with a resigned expression; although he keeps his hands still wrapped around Eddie’s hips, a tentative connection lingering in the press of his fingertips.
“She doesn’t like that I still smoke when she’s not around,” he begins, “And you never really think that’s it’s going to happen to you…” He nods at Eddie’s guess. “Cancer?”
“Yeah, so she changed tactics and started listing the infections and asthma risks the kids could get from second-hand smoke.” Eddie hums in encouragement, “Sounds good so far.”
Steve rolls his eyes, “She didn’t think the excuse that I won’t smoke around them is good enough so she decided to list all the ways it could hurt someone else, someone that I care for,” his voice trails off and Eddie’s heart thumps, one long hard pulse that he’s surprised doesn’t create a hole in his chest from the vigour of its movement.
He’s sure that shock must be writ large across his face because wanting a good time with your buddy Eddie is very different from what Steve is hinting at, but Steve doesn’t see his expression because he screws up his face, looking over Eddie’s shoulder as he admits, “Robin may or may not know that I’ve had a thing for you for a while now and she may or may not have used that as a means to convince me to avoid smoking from now on.”
“A thing?” Eddie asks cautiously, not wanting to break the moment with clumsy words, wishing instead that he could simply open his scent fully to Steve and allow him to smell just how keenly Eddie wants him back.
Has wanted him ever since Steve looked at him with comforting eyes in the boathouse while Eddie was emotionally and physically strung-out from watching Chrissy’s gruesome death, convinced that Hawkins PD would sooner shoot him dead than take him in for questioning.
Steve’s steadying presence and calm voice, extended for the trembling omega next to him, had caused a riot of emotions that took Eddie months to unpack.
But Steve’s avoiding his gaze now and has tightly drawn in the sweet scent that had just started to unfold into a rich earthy deepness. So Eddie tamps down on his urge to lay himself bare, unsure of why Steve looks so uncertain and sad when surely expressing his feelings to someone who had jumped into his arms at the first hint of reciprocation can only be a good thing.
Shoulders slumping a little, Steve sighs. “Never mind,” he mutters, “She just got in my head a little.”
Eddie’s heart starts again, but this time in trepidation; he can feel something precious slipping through his fingers, and he won’t allow it. Can’t. He takes his courage in his hands and ventures forward, careful again, “I would like that — if you had a thing for me.
Steve startles, “You would?”
Heartbreak dampens the rain and Eddie reaches out, spearing his fingers through Steve’s locks comfortingly. “Yeah, baby. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t have much to offer a pack, Eddie.” Steve meets his gaze, eyes sad and resigned. “Didn’t get into my safety schools, working a minimum wage job. I’m not exactly the alpha dreams are made of.”
Eddie slides his palm down to lightly shake Steve by the ruff, hoping that he knocks some sense into his head at the same time. “Do I look like the type of omega that wants to stay at home, treated as precious glass?”
“I don’t know,” Steve tries to joke, “You’re pretty impossible to budge first thing on a Saturday morning.”
“That’s because it’s a precious and holy time of the week, sweetheart.” Eddie bops him on the nose and Steve squints at him in miffed betrayal. “You know what I want in an alpha?”
“What?” Steve asks, hope and caution warring across his face.
“I want an alpha that cares. One that looks after a scared omega on the run who he barely knows, an alpha that chases after the little shitheads we call pack because he wants them to have a carefree childhood despite the Upside Down.” Steve’s face softens like hard soil after a summer rain, and Eddie continues, “I want an alpha who may or may not have a pregnancy kink—”
Steve snorts, eyes filling with begrudging amusement.
“—but is going to quit smoking because he doesn’t even want the possibility of asthma or cleft palates or whatever else it was that Robin said near the people he cares about.”
“He sounds like a pretty good alpha,” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss against Eddie’s lips.
Drawing back by only an inch, Eddie softly strokes his thumb across Steve’s cheek, sure that his eyes are shining with the love that he hasn’t named yet even as it sits strongly in his heart, “He is. And if he would like this to be something beyond just a good time, something greater for the both of us, then I can tell him that there’s an omega that has more than a thing for him.”
Steve’s breath catches, eyes blinking in hopeful shock, “More?”
Eddie smiles, “Much more.”
Steve’s hand slides up from Eddie’s hip, caressing him in one long stroke from his tailbone to the nape of his neck where he loosely clasps him, pulling him down to close the gap between. Eddie hums and loses himself in the kiss, sweet rain falling on welcoming earth to create a space rich with possibilities, unfolding into a beautiful future.
Steve licks his lips before asking with a wry smile, “But, uh, about the cigarettes…”
Eddie laughs, head tipping back before he exuberantly clasps Steve’s head between his palms, pressing honeyed kisses against this adorable man. “Robin is a very smart woman.”
“A genius,” Steve agrees slyly.
“And what do we do with geniuses in this pack?”
“We follow them.”
“Exactly,” Eddie happily hangs his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “No more smoking,” he promises, feeling summer-sun bright with the new world now open to him.
Other steddie fics over at Ao3
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#alpha beta omega#omegaverse#stranger things#paperbackribs writing#alpha steve harrington#omega eddie munson
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isekai where Vecna dominates and only Steve is left behind, he falls into an open portal to the Upside Down and lands in a dark kingdom ruled by a mysterious king.
but it turns out that dark only means not the expected, and one by one Steve finds the kids and Robin again, engaged in being weird and wonderful versions of themselves.
and he finds himself in front of the powerful ruler of this realm, a queerly mystical place that embraces all of those that need refuge, and Steve finds himself falling for this version of Eddie that shelters them all
#twist: it is actually all of them and when Eddie went first in the Upside Down he created this safe place for them#one by one they join him and they live happily in their alternative world#steddie#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#paperbackribs writing
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How to define a dingus
Prompt Day 17 – Platonic Stobin | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: humour, clueless and pining Steve, Robin's turn with the braincell, steddie end-game, requited love | WC: 986
For @steddieholidaydrabbles
🔔📼🔔📼🔔
“Steve,” Robin says, holding his head between her palms, directing him away from the sight of Eddie driving away in his van. Her brows are furrowed and voice determined, “Steve-ing-ton.”
Steve’s own brows rise, a crinkle above the face she holds stationary like he’ll escape if she doesn’t pin him down. “Yes, Robington?”
A crash of VHS cases sound to the left of him and he’s able to turn just enough to see a toddler running with their hand outstretched by the lower shelves before Robin jerks him back, her blue eyes staring him down intently.
“Do you know what a dingus is?” The bell above the Family Video door rings as more people pour in and Steve shifts restlessly on his feet.
It’s Friday afternoon, the place is busy as everyone prepares for the weekend, and he’s pretty sure that a different kid is licking the storefront windows from the outside. “Me?” He answers, hoping that she’ll release him soon.
“Yes. But no,” she retorts mysteriously. A woman calls for their attention in front of the counter, but Robin stays focused. “A dingus is a bit of an idiot.” Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Unfortunately clueless.” He tilts his head back as far as he’s allowed, groaning over the sound of the woman asking for them again.
“But overall, a dingus is loveable.” He stops, squinting at her while he waits for the other shoe to drop. “Thank you?” He says.
“Excuse me.”
They turn in unison, Robin’s hands still attached to Steve’s cheeks and the woman takes a step back as if made nervous by their sudden attention. She clears her throat and adjusts her acid wash jean jacket. “My son wants to hire Gremlins but Marcy Burgess said that it’s obscene. What’s the rating on it.”
They both look down at the case in her hands, on it a man holds a white shoebox with a creature peaking out from inside. At the top right corner, a large sticker says PG.
“Pheobe Cates,” Steve whispers from the side of his mouth. “I know,” she hisses back, elbowing him sharply out of the way to help the woman.
It’s over an hour later, as Steve swipes the barcodes on the back of the recently returned films, that Robin turns her attention back to him.
“A dingus,” she starts with no introduction, taking off from where they had left the conversation earlier, “Is loveable enough that he can probably get away with accidently spurning the object of his affection.”
Steve frowns, grabbing the cleaning spray to wipe off the mysterious spill on The Shop Around the Corner. “I did what now?” He asks patiently, scrubbing at the plastic.
“Eddie,” she says, “The whole…” She waves her hand in the air and Steve dodges just in time, “Thing with the ring.”
Steve just shakes his head at her, uncomprehending. Eddie had visited earlier, a lovely distraction before the customers had started tumbling in. But then Eddie is always a lovely distraction, even if Steve can’t tell him that outright.
It’s a nice fantasy though, he thinks. Maybe taking Eddie by the hand, telling him that he’s sweet and funny just to watch the pink rise to his cheeks.
He sighs, wiping his hands on his jeans. But that’s all it is, a fantasy. They’re friends and, sure, every time Eddie calls him sweetheart or baby or throws his arm over the back of the couch behind Steve, it makes his heart pound, fast and hard enough that he usually misses half of the conversations around him until he starts to calm down. But that’s Eddie, he’s demonstrative and affectionate with everyone, and Steve’s just a friend.
“The ring,” she groans, her bracelets rattling as she throws both hands up in the air this time. “You mean the one I tried on,” Steve supplies.
“Yes,” she says sharply, grabbing his left hand by the ring finger and wagging it in front of his face. “And what did Eddie say after you said how nice his jewellery makes his hands look?”
Steve shrugs, “Something a little new, from me to you. What do you think?” Thankfully she doesn’t point out how sad it is that he listens so closely to Eddie that he can quote him verbatim.
“While he pushed his new one onto your left ring finger,” Robin’s eyes bore into him.
Steve remembers, it’d had a silver bat on it and when Eddie slipped it on Steve’s finger all he could think about was how nearly empty Eddie’s eyes had looked when they'd found him covered in blood in the Upside Down. He’d hidden his shudder but could still feel how uneasy his smile had been when he’d replied that it wasn’t his style.
He blinks.
Robin nods, correctly guessing that the cogs have finally turned.
“He was hitting on me,” Steve breathes, body going hot then cold from the realisation that he’d essentially told Eddie that he’s not his style. “Oh shit.”
“Uh-huh,” Robin hums affirmatively.
“Christ,” Steve tugs his hair in horror.
“Dingus!” Robin grips his shoulders, shaking him out of his fugue. “Go!”
Steve frantically swings his gaze around the store, knowing that he’s still got half of his shift left and he’ll be leaving Robin alone and suddenly overwhelmed at the thought that Eddie’s not going to want to see him again.
“You’ll never know unless you talk to him,” Robin says and Steve realises that he’d verbalised his thoughts. “Go!” She orders him and Steve goes. He scrambles to the car and drives like a bat out of hell to finally pound on Eddie’s trailer door.
Eddie swings open the screen, looking down at him warily. “They’re my style,” Steve blurts out. “Love them, want to see them all the time, want them forever,” he hastily pleads.
Eddie slowly smiles and steps back, gesturing for Steve to follow him in.
#platonic stobin#steddie#robin buckley#steve harrington#stranger things#paperbackribs writing#eddie munson
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A Cat-tivating Distraction
Prompt Day 26 – “Who did this to you?” | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: established relationship, modern au | WC: 424
For the @steddieholidaydrabbles
😿❤️😽❤️😼
Steve is trying to mark his students' assignments, but his handsome husband is draped heavily over his back. The heat of Eddie's body is only rivalled by his hot sigh on Steve's neck. “Who did this to you?” He cries mournfully, eyeing the multiple piles of papers stacked on the table.
Eddie is bored and wants attention.
Blowing out another breath dramatically, he slides away from Steve's back to sprawl across the sturdy dining room table, abutting, but carefully not touching, the laptop's keyboard. One pile slowly but steadily tips, spreading like melting snow.
"Steve," Eddie whines, inexplicably stretching his name to multiple syllables, "My love, my baby girl, my sweet man, my pro-fessor."
Steve leans forward, pushing the pile back into place with the tips of his fingers, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to play with Eddie’s curls as they seductively spread across the polished wood.
The stretch of Eddie's arms above his head is a familiar and attractive temptation, but grading is due in two days and Steve will be eaten alive by the clamour of emails and phone calls from demanding parents if he doesn’t get this done.
With his neck on the chopping block, Steve chooses to exercise restraint and gently picks Eddie up by the shoulders, pulls him to an upright position, and elbows him aside with a benign push. "Later, sweetheart," he promises.
Eddie pouts, "Daddy is... evil? Daddy is unyielding? Incapable of love?"
He throws his clasped hands over one shoulder as if holding a hobo stick with a bag, as is appropriate for a runaway, impoverished lover.
"I am packing my rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household." Eddie turns as if to walk away while not budging an inch and woefully looking back at his husband.
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, unwilling to admit his amusement at Eddie being able to quote verbatim a stupid meme from four years ago. "No baby," he deadpans. "Don't leave me, I'll treat you right."
Eddie impishly bats his lashes, "Even with meow-ijuana?"
Steve sighs in defeat, pulling a snickering Eddie onto his lap who theatrically throws away his hobo stick and bag to the floor.
He arranges his ridiculous and comical partner for life so that he can reach around to continue marking assignments. Resting his chin on Eddie's shoulder, Steve wryly says, "I'll keep you in the best greenery, baby."
Eddie just hums, snuggling into his Stevie and planning his next cat-tivating distraction.
of course, the meme in question 👇
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The Gift (2) (Witch Steve AU)
previous: Chapter 1 The Sacrifice
next: Chapter 3a Witches Are Boys Too
Ao3 Link - Chapters will be updated ahead of Tumblr
Content: steddie fic, 1.5K words
I'm not sure if the tagging was right on the last post, so if you didn't see it make sure to click on Chapter 1 which is a far more expanded post than the original hc drabble.
Chapter 2 The Aftermath
Steve lets his body drop heavily into the uncomfortable plastic chair across from the hospital bed. The smell of bleach stings his nostrils, but at least it’s no longer the coppery smell of blood, he reflects looking on at Eddie’s sleeping but mostly clean form. The rise of his chest reassuringly rhythmic.
Steve refuses to move his nose closer to his own sweat-stained and injured body sure that his skin and hair must be completely infused with the stale stink of Lover’s Lake and the distinct scent of rotten eggs particular to the Upside Down.
However, Steve also doesn’t want to take the time to move away from the vulnerable Eddie while he lies handcuffed to the bed rails in Hawkins Hospital. Full of, at best, indifferent and, at worse, malicious hospital staff and police officers.
Max is getting her broken arm checked in another room with Nancy, Lucas and Erica, but the group had all made it clear to Chief Powell and the doctors that at least two of them would be present in the room with Eddie until he had a lawyer to represent him.
He needs protection, Steve thinks worriedly, his gaze drawn to the crimson hue of the blood bag hanging on the IV stand beside Eddie. Wondering how they are going to convince the police of the impossible; maybe his mother can help.
Sitting in the seat opposite is Dustin, still dressed in his dirty camo clothes and holding an almost death grip on one of the older boy’s pale hands. Once the kid had his leg examined in the Emergency Department—a simple ankle fracture now wrapped in compression wraps—he had settled beside Eddie and hadn’t looked up since. Steve keeps a concerned eye on him, he’s never seen Dustin this subdued.
He’ll perk up, Steve thinks. Once Dustin can see for certain that Eddie is going to survive past the night.
And Eddie will survive, Steve Knows. He had saved Eddie’s life, had feely given his sacrifice with the grim determination to rescue Eddie for himself as well as for the people who love him. For Dustin’s future, and maybe for the rest of the rugrats too; Steve hadn’t looked too deeply past the tapestry once he had understood what he needed to do.
It was an old ritual, one amongst many other lessons he had learnt at his Nana's knee. At turns excited or sombre as he learned about his people and customs; their unfolding story revealing discreet resilience and an abundance of gifts they guardedly conceal. Abilities where even some of them can endure past death to bring back life. Although, his mother had warned him with a wagging finger, that he’d never even think about attempting The Sacrifice if he didn’t want to feel the back of her wooden spoon.
But every piece of knowledge must be passed on, lest any of it be forgotten.
Now though he can feel a hum of connection between him and Eddie. Steve supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, he had tapped into a deep reservoir of power and bound the other boy to life through an essential part of his own body, perhaps even his soul. Steve thinks he could turn that humming into a song though if he just reached out to touch the ringless hands limp against cream sheets.
Even asleep, Eddie still looks drawn and tired. But tired means alive, Steve reminds himself, tracing the dark bags on Eddie's face with his eye. The lines bracketing his mouth seem sunken deeper and, without those charming dimples popping out, Eddie looks older than his twenty years.
The soft beeping of the heart monitor fills the room, creating a rhythmic backdrop to Steve's thoughts. The steady sound like a metronome that lulls him to close his eyes, wisps of sleep taking over his exhausted body and mind.
He hears a song faintly in the background, a sweet melody as he steps left to right, right foot back, left foot back; he’s dancing, Steve realises, looking up into his dear Nana’s face.
She’s much taller than him, despite her short stature, and silhouetted by a soft pearlescent glow. The familiar plumpness of her body guides him into the simple dance steps and a powdery scent envelops him as they move. The lines of her round face crinkle, “That is it, Stevie. See, not so hard, yes?”
He remembers this day, warm sunlight streaming through the solarium and the scent of fresh herbs in the air. The crispness in the air pure as it was familiar. That day, she had taught him the concept of pushing energy through a conduit by having him memorise the story of an elder’s legacy to their student and the value of persistence.
But she hadn’t allowed him to practise directing power through his young body yet; instead, to make it up to him, she had turned up her music and taught him to properly dance for the first time.
“It’s okay,” he pouts, “but it’s boring just walking in a square.”
“All right,” she challenges with a sly grin before letting go of one hand to spin him in place.
“Again!” Steve cries and Nana spins him three times in a row. The verdant pots of plants and flowers blend seamlessly with the warm wood of the countertops, creating a captivating kaleidoscope. To maintain his focus, Steve centers his gaze on Nana's pristine white dress. Breathlessly and a bit dizzy he directs a gap-toothed grin up her, she always knows how to have the best fun.
“See Stevie, you can make your own steps. You do not have to wait for someone to take the lead.”
She turns to the wireless, turning the knob to quieten the strings of the violin and a woman’s soft, romantic voice. Her face is more serious as he looks down at her now, her body bowed slightly in the hunch that would define her later years while the ethereal light around her becomes dim.
However, he gaze is direct, “Listen and learn, Steve.”
“What?” He asks, confused.
She repeats herself silently, the strains of the melody the only sound to pierce the thickening atmosphere.
Steve steps forward, reaching a hand out to her; she’s so far away that it’s no wonder he can’t hear her.
Nana says it again, mouth not moving in the dark except to curve into a mysterious smile.
It’s the sound of Robin slipping back into the room that jostles him out of his dozing state, the door clacking sharply shut behind her. Waking more fully he blearily turns his head, and she directs a half-smile at him, gesturing weakly to a bit of drool on his chin. He knows she’s tired when Robin doesn’t take the opportunity to mock him.
She slumps against the beige wall since the two seats in the small, secluded room are filled. He reaches out a hand at the same moment that she does, squeezing each other's palm in a silent gesture of support.
He drops it when Nancy's voice cuts through the peace of the room, the sharp sound preceding her upright figure as she strides into the room.
“What did you do?” Nancy demands, frowning with suspicion and concern. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh, cold glow that freezes Steve in place as effectively as her glare.
Steve's mouth goes dry, his one hazel eye meeting her intense gaze. He knows that his intervention is beyond reason for someone as practical and grounded as Nancy. He had interfered in the unspeakable, rescuing Eddie from the grim hands of death like no normal human could. Something that only someone like Vecna might do.
A tendril of fear winds through his body as he warily responds, "What I could."
Robin leans around Steve, her hand curling protectively over his chair's backrest before calling out Nancy’s name reprovingly. “Now’s not the time.”
“When then,” Nancy purses her lips. There was a period of his life where Nancy’s impatience had been endearing to Steve. When it had helped fuel his desire to be a better man for her. But Steve is tired and thinks that he can only have this discussion once in his current state.
“When Eddie wakes up. I’ll tell you all then, okay?”
She sighs, clenched hands falling from her hips to her sides. “Okay, Steve, but…”
He waits, anticipating a familiar disapproval. So, he’s surprised when she adds, “You’re okay, right?”
A spreading warmth fills his chest and Steve smiles and nods to her. They’ll never be what they were. And God knows, she’ll never want the future that he does, that was made clear back in the RV. Nancy Wheeler is going places and a camper van full of kids is the last thing she wants. But they’ve all been through too much to throw away their friendship because of a mystical act here or there.
“But,” Dustin interrupts, voice small. “Is there something I should have done? Something more.”
His shoulders are hunched again, one hand on Eddie but the other wrapped around his stomach as if he can hold in his doubts and fears by sheer will. Steve’s heart sinks and he quickens to rise and rest a solid hand on Dustin's shoulder, offering a reassuring clasp. The boy keeps his head bowed down, expression hidden from the room.
Resolved, righteous, brilliant Dustin should never have to doubt his part in having saved their world or Eddie, even if he hadn’t had the power to make a miracle happen like Steve did.
"You did everything earthly possible," Steve replies, earnest in his conviction. "You fought right there with him, Dustin, and you never once gave up on him. I saw that, we all saw that. If you could have, you would have reached through worlds to bring him back too.”
He pauses, thinking of the inevitability he had Seen. “But this was a path that Eddie had to decide on. It’s not on you."
Robin, who had been quietly observing the exchange, steps over to Steve and Dustin. He hears her approach before she reaches out to add the weight of her hand next to Steve’s, offering her support to the silent boy as well.
"You did good, Dustin. Eddie knows how much you love him," her expression is a blend of heartbreak and concern, carrying through to her softly spoken words.
Something finally breaks for Dustin who turns and buries his head into Steve’s torso.
He can’t feel the wetness of Dustin’s tears through the combination of Eddie’s denim vest and Steve’s new combat jacket, but he knows that the shuddering of his young shoulders is the cry of catharsis, letting out the poison of the day, draining his body of the fears and uncertainties and grief of a time filled with terror.
Steve rubs his back in soothing circles, letting Dustin get it all out. Robin leans her head against Steve’s shoulder, taking comfort in his closeness too.
Despite the emotion swirling, the room is still but for the steady beat of Eddie’s heart. Each person gives in to their exhaustion and just takes that moment to breathe. To feel the closing of a chapter and the tentative hope for a brighter future.
That is, until a gaunt Chief Hopper limps into the room, escorted by a freshly shorn El. Then life gets loud again.
If you liked anything, please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 :-) It would make my day!
Taglist
My taglist is always open so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed let me know too. :) If I've missed you, definitely let me know because it's an accident!
@a-gae-af-racoon
@a-lovely-craziness
@aly-reads-alot
@bookworm0690
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination
@everyrandomthing
@finntheehumaneater
@goodolefashionedloverboi
@hallucinatedjosten
@ilikeititspretty
@just-a-tiny-void
@ledleaf
@littlewildflowerkitten
@lostonceandneverfound
@manda-panda-monium
@matchingbatbites
@nburkhardt
@newtstabber
@obliosworld
@oliver-sykes
@platonicbesties4life
@probablyscreamingintothevoid
@rajumat
@scoops-stevie-archive
@spectrum-spectre
@tartarusknight
@whackyrach
#witchsteve#steddie#platonic stobin#stranger things#eddie munson#robin buckley#dustin henderson#paperbackribs writing#steve harrington
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A Tarnished Copper Boy
Previous | Next
Last chapter, it was Spring Break 1986, Vecna was vanquished but Steve mysteriously disappeared when he touched the gate in Eddie's trailer.
Chapter 2: The Sentinel
Fall 1984
Eddie slams his school bag against the side of the couch before falling onto its worn cushions, huffing. It’s only day one into his repeat of senior year and he already wants to quit.
Today had been an unending exercise in patience after walking through the wide doors of Hawkins High, while also pretending not to experience the wash of humiliation for failing to graduate last year. Already thinking that he looks older and certainly feels older than most of the student body.
He'd caught glances from the former juniors too. Typically, being seen as the resident freak wouldn’t get to Eddie. He likes to court that sort of attention every now and then.
But the knowledge that he’s returned due to his own fuck up turned their scrutiny into tiny, pointed daggers stabbing across his back. It made his skin crawl and his van had squealed out of the parking lot minutes after the final bell rang.
An image of Wayne’s hopeful face fills his vision and Eddie’s head falls back against the arm with a groan. He had promised Wayne that he would try again and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his uncle.
Glaring at the open bag, Eddie decides however that he doesn’t need to tackle it all immediately. Day one, he reasons to himself, pulling out his campaign notebook and pushing The Great Gatsby further into the depths of his backpack.
The scratch of his pen on paper is the only sound in the trailer as Eddie details his new idea about a township under siege. Afternoon sunlight spills past the curtains hanging on the window, the warm glow of it creating a soothing space as he determinedly forgets his day. Eddie faintly notes from its frantic barking that the Hamilton’s dog has spotted a cat when his calm is shattered.
A falling object slams from the ceiling to the floor. The thud echoes through the trailer and shudders under Eddie’s seat.
Pulse jumping in surprise he scrambles away from the moaning intruder sprawled face-down on the carpet. What the fuck, Eddie thinks, head whipping around in increasing shock, urgently looking for where the man had come from.
He’s half crouched, eyeing the front door, when the man struggles to push up onto his hands and knees, back facing Eddie. “Why’d you move the mattress?” He calls out irately.
The surprise of such a non-sequitur briefly knocks Eddie out of his fear and he peers closer, trying to make sense of this strange turn to his afternoon.
He’s just had a moment to take in the back of mud-splattered pants and a brown leather bomber jacket before the man bellows, “Christ!” He plunges to his side, kicking his legs in pain. “Shitting Christ,” he hisses, clutching at his sides. “Like a thousand fucking needles.”
The genuine pain in his voice has Eddie pausing from his bent position, warily watching and surprising himself as he asks, “Are you okay, man?” He immediately slaps a hand to his forehead: what idiot is concerned for the wellbeing of their home invader?
“Yeah,” the man eventually groans, rolling over onto his back and slowing his breathing. He gingerly rises, propping one hand behind him for support and running fingers through thick bronze locks. “Just a bad landing, is all,” Steve Harrington says in the middle of Eddie’s trailer.
Eddie absently wonders whether it’s his head tilting to the side or if it’s the world spiralling that has the ground swaying under him so abruptly. Either way, it does nothing to distract from the shock that’s rung through him like a slap to the face.
Steve’s eyes suddenly lock on Eddie and, bizarrely, a shadow of concern clouds his expression. “Shit,” he rushes to his knees, darting to hover over him, his palms raised like he doesn’t know where to touch first. “Are you okay? You shouldn’t be moving like that.”
Steve pushes him gently against the couch and, just as bizarrely, Eddie simply… lets him. The surprise of this entire situation numbing him into a blank compliance.
Steve presses his hands against the sides of Eddie’s torso, the warmth of it scalding through his thin shirt, before frowning and shaking his head. “No, it was…” He redirects his attention, staring intently at Eddie’s lap before starting to pat large palms against his legs. He frowns, “Where’s the blood?”
But it’s Steve’s thumb moving against the inside of his thigh—the intimacy of the inadvertent gesture—that finally jolts Eddie out of his shock and he slaps at Steve’s roving fingers with one hand and uses the other to push him away.
Unprepared for Eddie’s hasty resistance, Steve falls on his backside with an oomph, arms splaying behind him to keep himself upright. His face is one long crease, mouth downturned and brows furrowed. “Where are your injuries?” He asks urgently, eyes darting over Eddie’s exposed neck and collarbones.
“What injuries?” Eddie asks in exasperation, feeling like he’s going out of his mind.
Steve leans urgently forward, gesturing with a frantic hand. “The bats, man. You’re— that is, you were pumping blood out of those bites just a second ago. I thought Robin was going to puke if she had to look under your bandage one more time. Robin—” His head swivels, turning and twisting, trying to find—Eddie assumes—this Robin.
Under his warm tan, Steve pales even as his breathing picks up. “Where’s Robin? What about Dustin? Why—” His head snaps to the ceiling in a way that has Eddie wincing in sympathetic pain. He follows his eyeline but all he can see is the normal plain beige above them, and that small water stain that looks like Australia in the corner.
Steve’s wide eyes shoot back to Eddie, panic clear in their depths as they frantically take in every detail. He shifts back onto his knees, slowly reaching out to touch the end of Eddie’s hair, now long enough to just brush his shoulders. His fingers tremble. “Your hair, it’s so short. And…” He swallows, the gulp audible in the silence of the room, “You’re okay. The trailer is okay.”
He trails off, gaze turning inward before focusing on the curl pinched between his fingertips. “It hasn’t happened yet, has it.”
Steve’s face is inches from his own, enough that Eddie can feel the warmth of his breath as it washes over his skin. He’s not keen on how Steve’s invading his personal space but doesn’t have it in him to push someone away when they are so clearly freaking out.
The guy looks like he’s teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. And the last thing he needs is some jock losing his mind in Eddie’s home; though, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s talked someone down from a bad trip.
Eddie sighs, he may not like or even really know Steve, but he doesn’t want to see him suffer either. “Steve,” Eddie says gently, trying to break through the fog clouding his expression, “What’d you take, man?”
That’s the first thing to figure out: has he been mixing with drinks, is it some bad shrooms, or a paranoid spiral from getting too baked? Eddie’s thinking something along the lines of acid if the guy is hallucinating bats big enough to take down a fully grown man.
Steve snorts, a bit of colour returning to his face as he drops Eddie’s curls, leaning back onto his heels. “No, man. I’m not high.” His head tilts back as he spears his fingers through his hair and Eddie struggles not to look too closely at the smooth skin stretched over his neck or the pretty little moles dotted across it.
“Not high, but I feel a little out of my mind. I think…” He curses, still staring up at the ceiling like it’s an oracle about to unveil otherworldly guidance. “I think I’m not in the right place or the right—” He stops like he can’t say it.
Eddie shifts uneasily against the couch. For the most part, Steve seems in his right mind, even if the contents of what he’s saying don’t make much sense.
His gaze narrowing, Eddie finally realises that the man in front of him also looks very different from the high school junior of last year. He appears roughed up, for one thing, with smudges of dirt smeared across a cheek and under his chin. And his jaw looks sharper and hair longer, more 70’s rebel than 1950’s greaser.
“The ‘right’ what?” Eddie asks softly, figuring it won’t hurt to play along and understand what’s making Steve stop and start his sentences like a stalling engine.
Plus, he’s sort of intrigued by this rugged version of the prep jock that he’s used to seeing in the hallways. The dissonance was disorientating at first, but he can’t deny that it’s a good look on him.
Steve gazes at Eddie’s shoulder-length hair again, dropping his eyes to the backpack against the couch that’s half open and spilling onto the floor, his school notepad and maths textbook peeking through. “Remind me, Eddie. What grade are you in right now?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, trying to think if they had any classes together today to justify the annoyance that runs through him. If nothing else, a returning senior is still noteworthy he thinks a little bitterly. “Come on, Harrington. It’s day one of our final year, don’t tell me you’ve checked out this early.”
“Right,” Steve nods to himself, Eddie’s irritation not even registering. “1984. You were at the desk in front of me in Click's. I’d catch you drawing your characters and monsters for Hellfire rather than taking notes.”
Eddie’s eyebrows fly up in surprise, “You know about Hellfire?”
Steve takes in Eddie’s expression, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah man, my kids love that club.” He rolls up to his feet in an easy movement that has Eddie vaguely jealous.
Standing tall above Eddie with one hand curled around his hip he looks like he’s about to outline the Tiger’s new gameplan, Steve continues to explain, “I was a bit jealous at first, but Dustin loves it and really that’s what matters, right? Dustin…” He snaps his fingers, lips firming, “He’ll know what’s going on.”
“Uh, you might be thinking of some other club then, because we don’t have a Dustin,” Eddie says.
Steve’s smile deepens, a small secretive thing like he’s laughing at a joke that Eddie may not know but oddly he doesn’t feel like it’s at his expense either. “No, not yet. You’ll love him though.” He hums thoughtfully, “It’s hard not to like the little butthead. Hey, you have the van yet?”
Eddie blinks from the abrupt change of topic and at Steve as he unerringly strides to the space on the wall by the front door. “Yeah?” He says, confused as Steve plucks the Chevrolet’s chain from the hooks where he and Wayne keep their keys.
It’s out in the open so Eddie’s not exactly shocked that Steve went there first, but his confidence at finding the location in one go is weird.
Eddie supposes the ghoul figurine that he had painted and tailored to work as a key chain makes it even more obvious since Steve Harrington apparently knows about Dungeons and Dragons and thus can guess that the monster hanging on the hook is likely Eddie’s.
Eddie, who he has noticed in class. Or will. He’s not sure about the whole thing concerning Mrs Click’s class since they didn’t have history today.
The jarring difference between Steve’s words against reality must be the reason that Eddie feels a half step behind, which is also why it takes a moment to launch into action when Steve twirls the key ring around one blunt finger before stepping out of the trailer. The screen door slaps shut behind him.
“Hey!” Eddie calls out, scrambling after him only to find that Steve is waiting outside. He moves Eddie gently down the steps with his hands around his biceps before turning to close the door. After the quiet snick of the lock turning, he presses the keys into Eddie’s hand. “Give me a lift?”
Eddie closes his gaping mouth and nods dumbly. Sure, why not, he thinks, swallowing down a giggle at the ridiculous circus his afternoon has devolved into. Steve jogs over to the unlocked van door and launches himself onto the passenger seat, wincing and grabbing at his side with a soft curse.
Eddie frowns as he follows him into the driver’s side, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Steve just smiles, pushing a hand back to rap against the passenger window, “You should lock your car door, man. It’d be pretty easy to hotwire, right?”
Staring at Steve, whose tongue is firmly in his cheek and looking less lost and more amused, Eddie wonders aloud, “What is even happening right now?”
“Ignore me,” Steve shakes his head, eyes glimmering with humour. “Can you get to Piney Wood Drive off of Church Street?”
Eddie nods slowly, not completely sure about why he’s allowing himself to be directed by Steve’s whims. He thinks that a sort of morbid curiosity for this mystery is pulling him along like metal fillings drawn to a shiny magnet.
“Sure,” he finally answers, turning the key. Judas Priest blasts from the stereo and Rob Halford growls about the growing storm. Eddie reverses off the gravel while Steve reaches over to turn the volume down, but surprisingly doesn’t flick it off.
Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looking out at the blur of houses past the window and tapping his finger against the car door in time with the beat. “Is this Ozzy?” He asks.
Eddie blinks at the stop sign they’ve paused at, “You know Black Sabbath?” Has his soul left his body? Maybe Eddie’s the one tripping balls back at home because surely Steve doesn’t know Black Sabbath.
“Not really,” Steve chuckles. “I just know he’s pretty metal — bit a bat onstage, right?”
Again with the bats. “You have a thing for small flying marsupials?” Eddie turns left onto Highland Drive, slowing down as an older couple cross the middle of the street. “I don’t think they are. Marsupials, that is.” Steve gestures to his stomach, “No, uh, pouches, right?”
Eddie reroutes his thoughts to safer, saner places than a world where he’s being taught species characteristics by someone he’s fairly sure he’s not exchanged two words with before today. He decides to flip the script instead, “No, this is Judas Priest. The Sentinel.”
“Is that a D&D reference?”
Eddie huffs in disbelief, “No, it’s the song title. It’s about a protector that’s ready to defend against any threat. He’s pretty badass, has blades and everything.”
“Sounds like D&D,” Steve snorts as Eddie turns down Church Street.
Eddie inclines his head, “Touche. Now, where are we heading?” Steve directs him to the top of the incline on Piney Wood Drive where a cluster of birch trees surround a wide, single-storey house. The peaks of the roof charmingly peer out between the tall, white trunks like a little hobbit home.
And it’s as the house’s entrance swings open—Eddie helpless to do anything but follow behind Steve at this point—that he finds himself in front of a little hobbit as well.
A pipsqueak pulls the door back with a demanding sort of energy, his face is framed by tight brown curls shoved under a blue and white baseball cap and when he opens his mouth to speak, Eddie sees that his top front teeth are missing. “Steve?”
“Dustin!” Steve steps forward and roughly pulls the kid into his arms. Dustin’s expression looks like an echo of Eddie’s earlier bewilderment, but he gingerly reaches a small hand up to awkwardly pat him on the back.
Steve hangs there for an extra second before roughly clearing his throat and standing up again, though his hand continues to rest on Dustin’s shoulder. “Buddy,” he says, “You’ve got to help me out here: I’m a freaking time traveller.”
(This will have a similiar release schedule to The Gift, with Ao3 always updated first :) )
Tag list under the cut
My taglist is always open, so let me know if you want to be added. Likewise, if you want to be removed, let me know. :)
@bookworm0690, @cinnamon-mushroomabomination, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @finntheehumaneater, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @hallucinatedjosten, @just-a-tiny-void, @ledleaf, @littlewildflowerkitten, @manda-panda-monium, @mightbeasleep, @nburkhardt, @newtstabber, @stillfullofshit, @tartarusknight
#steddie#time travel#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#a tarnished copper boy#paperbackribs writing
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