Now I Have Lost The Smile Too 😭😭😭😭😭

pt 1 of some much requested cyra lore

I only had Steve repeating his senior year because I wanted the kids to know Eddie already, but thinking about it? This messes Steve up so so much more. He obviously met Robin, who asked a few pointed questions that made him go oh. about his life and his identity.

He’s back for another year in high school because of post concussion symptoms. His parents are probably pissed. He’s trying to rebuild his own sense of self without defining it with popularity, but he’s stuck in the place where he was the most popular before. And is now one of those loser super seniors.

Enter Eddie, who had been on Steve’s radar as a vague awareness of maybe-attraction in previous years. And the guy is protecting his kids. Encouraging them. He’s also as close to Out as he can be in Hawkins. He knows who he is. He’s unapologetic and doesn’t let trends define him. He’s who he wants to be. Of course there’s hearteyes.

But Steve isn’t comfortable with himself enough to talk to him directly. Hence the letters.

And maybe at first he wasn’t even sure that Eddie liked getting them. Or was even reading them. Probably wrote about how he was anonymous because he didn’t think Eddie would actually like him if he knew. It’s been a theme from the start, and it was probably the first thing that Eddie talked about when he could finally write back.

Eddie totally said that anyone who wrote letters like that, who was that kind and clever and generous and funny, would always be someone Eddie liked. Loved. That it wouldn’t matter if X was ugly, that it wouldn’t even matter if X was a girl. That Eddie would still want to know them.

And that’s when you have those insults. When Steve was finally finally brave enough to be around Eddie. To come to Hellfire. Because Eddie had promised in the letters to teach X how to play, that he’d be so so patient because X told him that he probably wasn’t smart enough to play.

Eddie has to betray everything he’s said.

And it is specifically because Steve Harrington is anathema to Eddie.

Proof that who Steve wants to be, tries to be, is wanted, but who he is in real life, not on paper, isn’t good enough.

(Yes, Robin had to be hugged into submission to keep her from slashing Eddie’s tires)

But, tag writer whose user name I can’t recall, Steve didn’t write his last letter in the car. He dropped off the boys, went home, and wrote something longer at first. He tried to find a way to explain to Eddie that he’s trying. That he wants to be a better person who Eddie would be happy to discover is X. He writes it, and he doesn’t believe that it will ever happen. That he can ever be better.

Anyway, Steve totally gets Vecna’d in this AU, and Eddie is one of the focal points.

Part One Two Three

Eddie’s laid flat on his back, it’s not particularly comfortable. He’s on a yoga mat on the grass. The sun is shining, so Eddie has his shades on and his eyes closed, but it still feels too bright. The sun feels too warm on his already itchy skin. He’s vaguely aware that his cock is probably doing it’s own version of ‘saluting the sun’ or whatever the fuck the pose is called, because his rut still isn’t done.

Eddie’s jerked off a couple of times, a little half hearted. Sometimes crossing the finish line and some times not. He’s never had a rut last this long and it’s pretty miserable. The not full nature of it is somehow making it worse; like his system is sluggishly working through years of blockers and inducers and general abuse, so it doesn’t have the energy to tip Eddie into a full, proper rut.

“This is bullshit,” he tells the sky.

Next to him, he hears Steve hum a vaguely agreeable noise, and then there’s rustling as he moves. Eddie squints over just long enough to see that Steve has bent himself into yet another highly improbable pose. He’s making a big show about how good he is at breathing.

Eddie can breath. Steve isn’t all that.

Steve’s dumb floppy hair falls forward, and Eddie just wants to give Steve a shove and watch him topple over. It’d be easy, the way he’s balancing.

Low hanging fruit, Eddie decides, and closes his eyes again.

There’s more rustling, and Steve’s just sitting there now, criss cross apple sauce, hands resting easily on his knees. Stupid yoga pants with leaves and flowers printed on them, like Steve doesn’t care what he looks like.

Yoga pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“What are you doing?”

“Meditating.”

“Is it working?”

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.” Steve answers evenly.

Eddie decides to sing the green bottles on a wall song, he starts at one hundred, but looses steam at around ninety seven when he realizes Steve is showing no outwards sign of being bothered.

Eddie sighs. Flops over onto his stomach and sighs again.

“Why am I here for this?”

“Chrissy said you said you wanted to try yoga, so here we are.”

“That is not what happened,” Eddie flops back over onto his back indignantly, “she told me that she’s been doing yoga, and that she thinks I should try it. She said it might help.”

“She’s right, it might.”

“I don’t see how.”

Steve’s quiet for a second, then, “you know when someone comes to the door, and the dog barks like crazy?”

“I don’t have a dog, and no one ever comes to my-”

“Hypothetical dog. And front door.”

“What color?”

“The dog or the front door?”

Eddie tuts, “the dog. The hypothetical dog, what color is it?”

“It’s a golden retriever.”

“Okay, yeah,” Eddie waves his hand vaguely, “go on then.”

“It’s really difficult to train a dog to stop doing something; the best way is to train it to do something else instead. So, you train the dog that when there’s someone at the door, it fetches a toy or something. Reward when the dog meets you at the front door with the toy.”

“Are you actually a dog trainer? Like, I’m so insulted, why did they get me a dog trainer-?”

Steve snorts, “my point is, the dog can’t bark if it has something in it’s mouth. It takes ninety days to build a habit.”

Or seven or eight lines, Eddie thinks absently. “What, and I can’t get high because I’m too busy being bent up like a wanna’ be pretzel? Bullshit.”

“I think it’s more the frame of mind Chrissy was-”

“Got fucking high playing twister once. So, yeah, calling bullshit.”

“Yeah, makes sense. It’s rough anyway, yoga. Lots of core strength.”

“Shut the fuck up, try playing a three hour gig, you don’t even know core strength.”

“Right right, yeah. Of course.”

“Show me the, the stupid thing,” Eddie gets up, “the one with the ass in the air, I’ll show you. Can’t be that hard.”

“Sure, start by standing up straight...”

“I tried the stupid, the thing. The yoga thing.”

“Eddie that’s great! How was it!”

“I’m broken. Don’t tell Steve.”

Chrissy snorts down the line, “awww, you’re getting on okay with him then?”

“He’s got a great ass.”

“Eddie!”

“Might fuck it.”

“Oh my Jesus Christ Eddie no-!”

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Best behavior. Scouts honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

Eddie snorts, “no, definitely not. Bet Steve was though. Where did you even find this guy anyway? He knows how to like, do everything. He made waffles for lunch, ate like, four of ‘em. Even the fruit.”

“He got you to eat fruit? That’s it, I’ll hire him full time right now, he’s never leaving-”

“Pffft. Shut it. I’m not that bad. Besides, he’s probably got like a wife, and two point five kids and white picket fence to get back to.”

“I...actually don’t know anything personal about him really.”

Eddie hums vaguely, because that’s boring.

“He said your ruts not done, if it’s not any better in forty eight hours they want to send someone to do a blood draw.”

“Great. You know I love a nurses- hang on, wait. Is Steve reporting back to you? What else has he been telling you?”

“Not much!” Chrissy says in a bright voice that Eddie instantly knows is a lie, “and he does work for me Eddie, I mean, be reasonable. I need to know you’re okay.”

“You can ask me if I’m okay!” He takes a deep breath, feeling kind of angry and not just a little betrayed.

“I...Eddie. Your...what you tell me about yourself isn’t always...accurate. At least, it hasn’t been.”

“Oh, what so now you don’t trust me?”

“Eddie, come on-”

“No. Fuck off.” And Eddie hangs up the phone.

Eddie stews on it for a bit. Then storms through the house. He finds Steve on the couch, reading a book, “you! You fucking- you, you Judas! Get the fuck out of my house!”

Steve doesn’t even stand up off the couch, just lowers the book a bit, “I’m sorry?”

“Where the fuck do you get off, huh? What have you been telling Chrissy? Did you tell her about the other night? I bet you did you fucking snake-”

“You want to read what I wrote?”

“I- what?” Eddie deflates instantly. He was expecting Steve to put up a fight or deny it or spout some bullshit about confidentiality or something equally wank and made up.

“I do have to report back; Chrissy is my employer. This is my job.”

“But you’ll...let me read it?”

Steve shrugs, “it is about you.”

Every twenty four hour period appears to be it’s own email. All neatly laid out. It starts with if Eddie’s had a wash or not, and it turns out that Eddie is not a fan of having his personal hygiene clinically reviewed on a daily basis. It’s followed by what he’s eaten and drunk that day; or at least, what Steve’s seen him eat and drink. Not that Eddie’s been snacking much; he’s too thin right now, he can tell that by looking at himself in the mirror. It’s not a good look; it’s not the kind of skinny that would have the tabloids saying how great he looks.

It’s the kind of skinny that would have them speculating about eating disorders.

Right after that is just...notes. Clinical but...vague.

EM supported with nesting. “I have not nested.”

“No, but I changed your sheets.”

EM continues to show poor engagement with nutritional food. “Steve. I’m not eating the fucking salad.”

Steve shrugs, “you’re not eating much of anything.”

Eddie tuts.

EM continues to be disinterested in any scenting/is not showing any particularly Alpha behaviors despite continued rut. Sex drive/mating urges still appear to be low/non existent. Eddie isn’t even going to touch that one; in fact he does a solid job of pretending he didn’t even read it.

Eddie skips back a day, looking for his little nighttime misadventure. EM restless during the night. Reluctant to engage in talking therapy. Encouraged primal therapy; worked well and resolved without incident. EM exposed to positive fan feedback.

“Restless?”

Steve shrugs, “you were, weren't you?”

Eddie slides down in the office chair, “Steve, I was looking to score, I’m not some ninety year old who wouldn’t stay in bed.”

Steve shrugs again.

“Okay I guess...I mean, thanks. For covering for me.”

“Just calling it as I saw it. You didn’t actually go anywhere...I like to think you’d have come around before you made it to the gate.”

The...optimism. Faith. Trust. Whatever that Steve’s just shown is kind of...prickly and uncomfortable, “you can’t know that,” Steve shrugs, “how did you know, anyway? You got a secret spy camera or something? Door alarm?”

“No just...good instincts for this kind of thing, I guess.”

Eddie ‘harrumphs’ dismissively.

“You should call Chrissy. Apologize.”

“How do you even know-”

“Eddie,” and Steve might not be physically, like, rubbing his forehead or pinching at his nose in despair, but his tone is doing a lot of heavy lifting, “you stormed in here angry that I was spying on you. I am just doing my job, okay? You’re a smart guy, you don’t need me to point out to you how that behavior looks from the outside,”

“Meh meh meh meh looks from the outside,” Eddie mimics back in the most childish voice he can, “smart guy meh meh.”

Steve’s eyebrows twitch a tiny bit, “paranoid Eddie. Pretty classically paranoid.”

“I-oh.” Eddie stops for a second, because...well. He tries to be angry, because what the actual fuck, but the anger part has kind of already happened. Steve's watching him, not in any kind of way, not really. He’s just...prepared.

“I imagine it...like a stage,” Steve starts slowly.

“What, like I’m on stage?” Because that’s an image Eddie can get behind. He knows that feeling. The heat of the lights, the physical force of the crowd screaming. The weight of being the absolute center of the universe for literally thousands of people.

Steve moves to the couch, leaving Eddie in the office chair, “yeah, sure okay. You’re on stage, and you’re...calm. Competent. You have a plan right? You’re centered. There’s...harmony. You’ve done this a hundred times, the band backs you. You are yourself, right?”

“Okay…” Eddie says slowly, no fucking idea where Steve is going with this.

“So the crowd is...also you. Parts of you. But you have control over the crowed, right? You tell them to get their phones out for the lights, or one half of them sing and then the other half sing, right?”

Eddie does do that, it vaguely makes him think Steve has at least seen a recording of a gig, because that’s pretty accurate. He likes interacting with the crowd. Likes getting them involved and playing games like that to get them hyped. It’s the most fun part of the gig. “Sure.”

“Okay so...the audience is you, the good bits, and the bad bits. So...something unexpected happens, and maybe you get angry, or scared, or...restless,” Steve says carefully, “but they want control, so they get on the stage with you. Now you’re not in control any more. There’s too many people on the stage and not enough left in the audience, it’s chaos, right? There’s not enough of you left out there for you to...take control. The stage is loud and crowded and you can’t find you in the middle of all that, follow me?”

Eddie does. He can. He’s always had a fucking stellar imagination, and a stage crowded with fucked up versions of Eddie is really easy to picture.

“So...the first thing you learn is to recognize it’s even happening. Step one. Just that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “and then one to ten with The Count after, right? Shapes with Big Bird?”

“Only if you’re good,” Steve smiles at him, and Eddie feels like it’s the first genuine one he’s gotten so far.

Steddie Microfic

April prompt: score

Word count: 351

No warnings apply

Rated G

@steddiemicrofic

“He shoots,” Steve says, watching as Eddie prepares to aim at the basket, right hand firmly behind the ball, left hand steadying. He crouches, explodes up, and flicks his wrist.

The basketball goes in. Nothing but net.

“And he scores!” Steve yells, running and tackling Eddie in a hug. “You did it, dude!”

“Holy shit,” Eddie giggles. “I did!”

He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, looking first at the basket, then at the ball, slowly rolling away. “And if I’m not mistaken, my liege,” he glances over at Steve in his periphery, smirk playing along the edges of his lips. “That means you owe me.”

Steve’s grinning too hard to sound worried. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Eh,” Eddie says, “depends on how badly you don’t want to play D&D.”

Steve stops. “I- Ed, c’mon, you don’t want me to play. I’m not gonna be able to remember anything, I’m just gonna slow you down, even the simple math is gonna trip me up. I- it won’t be fun for you.”

Eddie turns with furrowed brows towards Steve. “It’ll be fun because it’ll be time spent with you, dude.” He sighs. “If you really don’t want to play, that’s one thing, but don’t put yourself down like that. Don’t call yourself dumb and uninteresting. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“It actually is the truth,” Steve argues. “I’ve gotten too many concussions to read, dude. And I’m just… me. Nothing special.”

“You are special enough,” Eddie argues back. “You’re kind and funny and observant and you always know what to say, whether it’s to make someone feel better or to make us laugh. You’re sharp as a fuckin’ tack and I hate that you can’t see it because it means we’ve all failed you as friends.”

Steve snorts. “Don’t give yourself all the credit. I was ruined long before any of you came around.”

Eddie kisses him. Hard. Pulls back with wide eyes and uneven breathing. “Steve-”

Steve’s breath hitches. “You mean it?”

“I do.”

Steve watches him lick his lips. “Do it again?”

Eddie blinks, grins. “Gladly.”

I don't know when I'll have the time to write this, but:

CW: Minor Mentions of Blood, Character Illness (Hanahaki), Use of Queer as a Slur

Hanahaki AU. Steve develops hanahaki over Eddie. It's not because, oh, Eddie's probably straight and doesn't know I'm into guys...

No, it's because, oh, Eddie doesn't want to be very close to me due to previous hangups he has.

Cut to Steve coughing up dark purple, almost black petals. Soft and wet and sticky to his fingers. Then, after some time, they become small buds. Small black rose buds with gentle, prickly thorns sprouting in his throat.

People around them find out quickly, very quickly, that Steve is experiencing Hanahaki. Everybody, sans Eddie himself, finds out they're related to Eddie—even as these black roses symbolize hatred, even as they come close to death and mourning in their meaning—they're still perfectly Eddie in color, shape, and beauty. Obviously, since nobody wants Steve to, y'know, die, they tell him to confess to Eddie.

However, Steve is faced with a secondary option at one of his doctor visits. A surgery. The petals can be removed, the thorns torn out and tossed, his lungs cleared...but his brain shocked empty of all traces of Eddie. All traces. He wouldn't know Eddie as he is now. He wouldn't know Eddie from when Dustin would ramble on and on and on about his new guy best friend. He wouldn't know Eddie as the mischievous troublemaker in high school.

And he especially wouldn't know Eddie as his childhood best friend that he drifted apart from many, many years ago. Nobody but them knows that part.

And soon, through decision, through the fear of death...Steve chooses to forget that part, too. He chooses to remove Eddie from his conscious. Every last part of him. With the decision made, the party members keep Eddie away, Robin goes through Steve's room and hides anything he has of Eddie's—including a little memory box of their childhood photographs, little trinkets he'd receive from Eddie, doodles and crushed flowers...crushed flowers that look similar to the ones Steve coughed up with a note attached to them: "For the prince to my prince. Mama said they're for royal people, and I thought they were beautiful. These are for you, because you're beautiful, too."

Steve kept all of it. Tucked neatly away for nobody but him to see. All these delicate, baby confessions of two queer kids in rural America, waiting for the right moment; though never getting that after a fall out in their relationship.

According to Eddie, the two drifted away due to rhetoric Steve's dad was spouting; rhetoric that was being passed on and spat right at Eddie's face from Steve's mouth. Even if he saw Steve change during and after Vecna, he'll always remember the last big fight in their friendship; the day he was called a queer.

When Eddie finds out, he's beyond devastated that Steve would make the choice to forget him. He gets it, Steve didn't want to die. He knows. But now he doesn't even have a spot in Steve's life? It cuts deep, it hurts.

He knows so much about Steve. Little details. Favorite things. Where his moles are. How he styles his hair. What he looked like before braces, before Tommy, before high school bullshit, before all the traumas. He knows who Steve really is, sweet and nurturing and nearly unbearably kind.

And now Steve doesn't know him. Doesn't love him.

He wishes he knew, because then they wouldn't be in this mess.

But Eddie gets to fall in love with Steve all over again. Shake his hand and introduce himself. Even though he wishes they could meet each other as kids, just like they did. Because Eddie remembers a dorky, geeky, self-conscious, timid little kid quietly asking him if they could play princes on the playground. And Steve remembers Eddie at twenty-one, full grown and stubborn; not the same shy kid, not the bubbly kid...just a man haunted.

But! Plot twist!!!

What if, yeah, Steve does forget Eddie...initially?

He meets Eddie again, for the first time. He gets to know Eddie. He begins a friendship with Eddie.

And then he begins getting these awful...awful migraines being around Eddie. Flashes of fractured, half-formed memories of some kid with big brown eyes and a shaved head, of a kid crouched down in wood chips trying to find a guitar pick he had dropped. Little glimpses of smiles: some with teeth missing, some with teeth growing back in, some with blood-stained lips, some with a blue tint. There's splintering voices, a little boy's and an older man's and a squeaky, pubescent voice—he hears his own name crackled around the edges, hears Prince Stevie cooed and King Steve snarled, soft words whispered through choking sobs and whip wild yelling.

He looks Eddie straight on at one point, his face open with concern, but all he sees is an angry, sobbing, red-faced, wet-faced little Eddie talking with Steve, "You think I'm...I'm a dirty queer? Why would you say that to me? No...no, Steve, keep your voice down, keep your voice"—and then, quieter, a whisper—"I thought I could trust you. I know I like boys, but that was a secret. You're an asshole, Steve. Go fuck yourself."

And when he blinks again, Eddie's concerned face staring back at him, all Steve does is cough and cough and cough. Eventually, he's hunched tight into himself and spitting directly into Eddie's palm. Out comes a fully formed black rose.

A bud that hadn't bloomed, that hadn't been removed. Sharp thorns and wet petals and an eye that swirls and swirls and swirls.

It all comes back to him, then, staring at that flower, floundering backwards, catching Eddie's eyes in a daze.

It all comes back to him.

How much he's always loved Eddie Munson.

Anyway, just like, a hanahaki surgery gone wrong, I guess. Like they all think it works until, y'know, it doesn't. They get close again and it floods back in. The very thing he tried to get away from.

I imagine that after Steve coughs up that fully formed rose, Eddie squishes it in his palm. The thorns cutting up his hand, the petals crushed between his fingers. And then he just...eats it. Like fully puts it on his tongue, chews it up between his teeth, and swallows the whole damn thing—yes, even the thorns. There's blood in his mouth, petals between his teeth, blood and drool on his hand.

And he lunges forward to grab Steve's face, to kiss him so roughly they could be devouring each other. And all they taste in each other are the bittersweet ghosts of black rose petals and the metallic harshness of one another's blood; Steve had hacked up blood, too, from the thorns cutting his throat.

And when they separate?

"You were the first boy I ever fell in love with," Eddie confesses, "you're the only boy I've ever loved. There's been nobody else in that place, Steve. Only you, after everything, have remained."

Okay. Now I'm done. I promise I'm done rambling. Would this be interesting as a fic? I don't know. It's fine.

"But why is he here all the time," he whines to Robin. She doesn't like him much, but Scoops is empty, and what else is he supposed to do? Not speak to her at all?

"Why do you care what Eddie Munson is doing at the mall."

"I don't care." He scoffs, rolls his eyes. "He's just always here. Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Do you?"

"He doesn't work here."

"Haven't seen you doing a lot of work here, Steve."

"You spent forty minutes yesterday drawing on your sneakers."

She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything because he's right and she knows it.

He goes back to staring at Munson, sitting on the edge of the fountain. He's relaxed back, legs spread, looking like he owns the place. The way he's leaning, his t-shirt rides up, showing a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin and the lightest dusting of hair. He doesn't remember his mouth being so dry before.

"You're such an idiot." Robin smacks herself down beside him. "Eddie's a good guy. Is this just because he's the freak and you're King Steve?"

"No!" He says it too loud, a few people in the foodcourt turn to stare. "I'm not that guy anymore. That's all just--" he flaps his hand, can't find the words.

She makes a disbelieving noise, eyes narrow. "I'll never forgive you if you hurt him."

Robin stomps off to the backroom before he can stop her, tell her he doesn't want to hurt Munson.

One of Eddie's friends says something that has Eddie stretching back to hear, pulling his shirt higher, flashing the dark line of a tattoo, and that's too much, that has him slamming his eyes closed, rubbing at his brow but all he can think is--

cold cinder block at his back, hot mouths and fumbling hands and long, deft fingers; desperate, bitten off moans; hands fisted into long curls; the hot, bittersweet taste of him

It was only a handful of times, quick encounters in the locker room, once under the bleachers in the gym. And Steve, he'd never--it didn't mean anything, but it meant everything, and Eddie's been all he can think of for months.

A group of middle school girls comes in, then, and he forgets about Munson as he scoops ice cream and blends milkshakes. The next time he looks to the fountain, Eddie is gone

---

Steve cleans up the remnants of a dropped milkshake at the store entrance, and his shorts are a little too tight, okay, he can feel the way they pull around his hips when he bends too much, but he has to clean the tile before the rush starts and customers complain. There's one spot, though, it's already dried, has to really put his back into it.

The food court is crowded by the time he finishes, bustling with customers. He turns to grab the bucket, and stops dead in his tracks. Munson sits on one of the built-in planters directly behind him. He was staring at Steve's polyester clad ass, but now his eyes travel up Steve's body, getting darker with desire as they go.

He's trapped in place by the force of Eddie's gaze, by the want there. They stare at each other in silence, Steve's blood thumping a vigorous rhythm.

The moment breaks when Robin's voice, calling his name, catches his attention. He turns back to his work without a word, but inside he's reeling.

---

Steve's opening alone, comes out from the back, and there Eddie is, lounging on the fountain rim with a magazine in hand. It's been a couple of days since he's been around, not since the incident. He watches as Munson languidly flips through the pages, seeming not to have a care in the world, and he--

Well, he's never really had to wait around for something he wants.

He stalks over to the fountain, stops when the tips of his sneakers touch the toes of Eddie's boots. And, yeah, he's in his dorky sailor outfit, but Munson didn't seem to mind the other day. Steve thinks maybe he likes it.

"Munson," he says. His hands are on his hips.

Eddie looks up, slow, taking Steve in. He leans back further, crosses his legs at the ankle. "Harrington."

They stare at each other. Steve starts biting his lip. Not as a move--he's nervous, suddenly, that all of this is a waste and Eddie isn't interested--but Munson's gaze hooks on his mouth, lingers, like a warm caress.

Steve's never initiated things between them before, isn't sure if it's working. He takes the chance, though, starts walking away.

He crosses through the seating area, past the counter, into the back, doesn't know for sure if Eddie is following until the door doesn't close right away behind him.

There's a single beat of a second where they watch each other and neither moves, before Eddie is on him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the wall.

"What the fuck is this, Harrington, huh?" They're close enough for their noses to touch. "You ignore me for months and now--"

"You're here all the fucking time," he snaps back. "Sitting in the same spot like you own the place."

"So, I'm not allowed to be at the mall now?" Eddie sneers. "God forbid I'm in sight of the king."

Steve tries to pull away. "That's not what this is, and you know it."

"Then what is it, Stevie? Spell it out for me real slow to make sure I understand." He leans in, a little, and Steve stops breathing.

Eddie's lips brush his, a gentle press that isn't quite a kiss, not yet. His knees go weak, the wall at his back the only thing holding him up, but the kiss doesn't deepen. Instead, Eddie steps back, laughs. "You think I'm this easy, sweetheart? That you can lure me with your little sailor costume and I'll come without a fight?"

"Am I wrong?"

Eddie scoffs, turns his head, and Steve thinks he overplayed it, that his misread everything.

"Fuck you, Harrington." Eddie grabs him, then, hands fisting into his sailor shirt. "Fuck you and this stupid, sexy outfit. Fuck you for knowing this would work on me."

His mouth presses against Steve's throat, and he moans, clinging to Eddie's jacket.

"Listen to you, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "Making all those desperate, pathetic sounds for me. Almost like you missed me or something."

"I did." He groans as Eddie's mouth moves along his jaw. "Missed you so much, haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Eddie sinks his teeth into Steve's cheek, and he has to stifle his shout. He's harder than he can remember ever being before, thinks he could come just from the feel of Eddie's teeth in his skin.

"That's not what you told Billy," Eddie says. "When he almost caught us."

"I didn't want him to hurt you," he gasps. "I--I didn't want him to have a reason."

Eddie pulls away, Steve grasping after him. "I can handle Hargrove."

"He hit me in the head with a plate." Steve points to the small scar on his forehead. "That's how I got that concussion last year."

"Oh," Eddie blinks. He cards his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling it out of the way to see the scar better. "Sweetheart. I thought--" he swallows, throat working. "I--I keep coming here to see you. I wanted--"

His hand falls to Steve's neck, drawing him in. For a second, Steve thinks it's another tease, but Eddie does kiss him this time. It's deep, desperate, so thorough he thinks Eddie's memorizing the taste of him. He doesn't want it to ever stop, not for a second.

Outside, someone starts hammering on the counter bell, shouting for service.

They slip apart, Eddie still gently cradling the back of Steve's neck. "Come over tonight?" Eddie's eyes are so dark, wanting, he could drown in them.

"Yes." Because there is no other answer.

He lets Eddie out the back door just as Robin yells from the front, "Harrington! We have a customer! I haven't clocked in yet!"

"Be right there," he yells back, but not fast enough that she doesn't catch a glimpse of Eddie slipping out.

She whirls to him, brow in an angry furrow. "Steve! I told you not to hurt him!"

He can't stop his smile. "Buckley, I promise you, Munson can take care of himself."

Yep 👍

Have you ever read so much fanfiction and consumed so much fanart that you genuinely forgot what canon is?

Steve ends up boding with Nancy that first night they sleep together and Barb disappears. He's so in love with her and they're having sex for the first time and he's never slept with someone he loved before and he ends up sinking his teeth into her mating glad without even realizing it.

Nancy is not happy about it. She likes Steve a lot but she promised herself that she would never be someone who mates before they graduate high school and become just like her parents. She wants to chase her dreams and make it as a female Alpha in journalism, but she also feels honor bound to Steve. She ends up biting him back to spare him the hurt of an unfulfilled bond.

Her parents are a little concerned they're both so young but they ultimately approve and Steve's parents are just happy to know he won't continue to be a burden after he turns 18 and graduates and it will legally be his Alpha's job to take care of him. With no access to one of the fancy bond removal specialists in New York or Chicago, Nancy resigns herself to the bond and taking Steve with her into her future.

Steve, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He loves his Alpha and can't wait for them to move out and start a family of their own. Nancy makes sure to treat him gently, even if sometimes it feels like she sees him as a stereotypical airheaded Omega. Even when he can feel the little pull of tension in their bond.

He's happy right up until it becomes clear that Nancy would rather be with Beta Johnathan Byers than him. He can feel it, see it, but refuses to accept it. When she comes to him after their first encounter with the Demagorgan and asks if he would be open to adding a beta to their bond, he's so relieved that she isn't just leaving him to say anything but yes, even if it's not really what he wants.

Again, they are both very sweet to him but it feels more like he's their pet than their partner. They hold him and cuddle him but they don't talk to him about anything of substance or make him feel important. He feels like a third wheel in his own relationship. But he has no one else to turn to with his old friends and parents out of the picture.

By the time the events of season two start to play out everyone in school has noticed that Nancy spends more time with Johnathan in the dark room than with Steve. Rumors start flying around about Nancy and Johnathan trying to push him out of the bond and Steve's social position falls even further. He's trying to be a good Omega, but it feels like every time he reaches out he's turned away.

That night at Tina's party Nancy and Steve fight. They were all three supposed to come together but Johnathan ended up going with Will instead. Nancy tried to insist that none of them go, but Steve insisted that they could have fun together and meet up with Johnathan afterward.

Nancy ends up drinking way too much and lays into Steve when he tries to help her. She goes on about them killing Barb and pretending nothing happened as well as how she never wanted to bond with Steve in the first place. Goes on about how he's ruining her life.

Steve goes near catatonic after that, rejection sickness setting in quickly. He gets in his car and drives, finds himself parked outside the Wheeler house where he spends most of his nights. He can't go back to his parents' house, doesn't have anywhere else to go, so he just curls up in the back seat of his car and passes out.

That's how Dustin finds him the next day. Nancy clearly didn't look for him, which hurts, but the smell of puppy distress coming off of Dustin is enough to pull him out of his distress long enough to help. His Alpha may not love him, but Steve loves kids and won't let anything happen to one under his watch.

After El closes the gate, it's like the three of them (John, Nancy, and Steve) all agree to pretend none of it happened. Nancy doesn't apologize, John doesn't explain, and Steve doesn't ask, but he also doesn't forget. His new pack bond with the kids is enough to keep him stable, but he knows now that his Alpha doesn't want him and spends almost every moment with them disassociating. They must feel it through their links (Steve to Nancy, Nancy to John) but they chose not to acknowledge it. They let Steve float because it's easier for them to pretend this thing between them isn't broken.

When summer hits Steve starts applying for jobs just to get out of the house. The three of them moved into a small apartment, a gift from Ted Wheeler, during Spring Break and Steve needs an excuse to get out of there. He hasn't even bothered to make a nest in their new bed. He doesn't think Nancy has even noticed, but John gives him pitying looks that he blatantly ignores.

With Scoops comes Robin. Steve instantly likes her, even if she bullies him relentlessly. At least she sees him. At least she can look him in the eye and tell him she thinks Nikes are lame and commiserate about the terrible sailor music on blast 24/7.

When they get sucked into Russian plots and drugged within an inch of their lives, they spill their guts both figuratively and literally. She tells him about being an Alpha who only likes other female Alphas and Betas and he tells her all about his failed bond. Tells her how trapped he feels.

When all is said and done, Ronin refuses to let him go back to Nancy and Johnathan. She bundles him up in one of those dumb tinfoil blankets the paramedics give them and bares her teeth at anyone who comes too close. She takes him home with her and when Nancy comes asking questions like she actually cares what happens to Steve she tells her to fuck off, and when that doesn't work she grabs her dad to force her off the property.

Once Steve recovers physically from the torture, Robin tells her she knows someone who might be able to help. Someone who could break the bond.

It's illegal in the state of Indiana to break a bond, but Eddie Munson isn't exactly a God-fearing, law-abiding Alpha.

------

Aaaaaaand that's where I'll leave it. Ran out of steam a little but rest assured that Steve and Eddie will fall deeply in love almost immediately and have a million babies after Eddie helps Steve get rid of his bond.

Sorry this is so Nancy negative. I love her so much but with Omegaverse dynamics she always turns so evil. To be fair, she is very young and was trying to do the right thing, at first. I could never hate you Nancy Wheeler!

i will give you one million dollars for a full fic of this😵‍💫

executive dysfunction is literally like. ive had a random dollar on my floor for two weeks and i dont know when ill fit it in my schedule to pick it up. people dont realize this

I love the “Steve has good parents, they’re just not on camera.”

Mom edition

Dustin is crawling in through the window. He freezes halfway through the window when he makes eye contact with Steve’s mom.

“Sweetie who is this small curly haired child breaking into our house?”

“That’s Dustin.”

“Okay?”

“I’ve adopted him as my brother.”

“Hello new son?”

…

Steve’s mom comes home to find Joyce on her couch, Steve talking very excitedly to her.

“What’s Joyce doing here?”

“Hey mom, meet mom.”

“Two moms and you still can’t avoid getting concussed every year?”

“Neither of you are very good at your job.”

…

“Mom!” Steve’s mom turns at the voice and finds a small redhead looking at Steve.

“Yes Max?”

“Can you take me to the arcade?”

Steve groans, pulling out some of the allowance that his mom had just given him and handed it to the little girl.

“Lucas too?”

“Yes, now scram.”

“Mom?” Steve’s mom asks.

“I’m not sure how that happened either.”

…

Eddie shows up on their doorstep with a bunch of half burnt cookies.

“I’m here for Steve.” He says simply to the bewildered mother staring at him.

“Okay.” She turns back towards the inside of the house. “Steve your boyfriend is here.”

“Did Steve tell you?”

“No, but god does my boy have a type.”