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ghastlyprinces · 26 days
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leave your laundry on the floor for them
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ghastlyprinces · 2 months
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Delicious and dragons
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ghastlyprinces · 6 months
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Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six
Being back in school as a student is a very different experience from visiting for sports or crime. Steve’s not paying attention to his teachers during classes, he’s not even pretending to try. He barely bothered when he was actually high school aged, and he’s got a lot more important things to think about now. 
In junior year, the first time around, Steve’s star was well and truly on the rise. He was rich, he was popular, he’d finally stopped breaking out, and Coach put him on the starting lineup pretty much every basketball game. Last summer, he made a name for himself on the party circuit - he even hosted a couple times while his parents were in Cabo, and his keg stand record currently remains unbeaten.
In 1986, King Steve is a joke. An embarrassing hangover from a time best forgotten, something people only reference to poke fun at him or point out what a dick he was. In 1983, it’s a reality. The shift in perspective kind of fucks him up.
Girls blush and giggle when Steve walks past them. The swim team shouts hellos to him across the corridor on the way to class. When he stops by his locker before lunch, after sweet-talking the office secretary for a master key, no less than three notes fall out of it, bubble writing folded into little squares and sprayed with perfume. It’s a world away from ’86, where he can barely get a second date.
Part of Steve thinks it should feel good to have so much positive attention directed his way, but it doesn’t. It makes his skin crawl, all this adoration for a person he kind of hates. All the expectation that he’s exactly who they think he is.
It’s not like the thought never crossed his mind before. For all that he talked about bumps on the head and having it all not being that great, there were moments when Steve wished he could go back to this.
When he’s shivering on his bathroom floor in a cold sweat after another brutal nightmare. When the post-concussion headaches hit so hard he has to lie perfectly still in a dark room or risk throwing up everything he’s eaten that week. When his dad calls to scream at him, or the kids are being particularly obnoxious about his many shortcomings. When Robin groans over his godawful love life, and Nancy smiles uncomfortably at him from a careful distance, and another girl who cried herself to sleep over not being his date to prom sniggers with her friends outside the window of Family Video - yeah, Steve’s thought it might be nice to go back.
But his glory days were a time when his best friend hated him. When all he had going for him was a shallow veneer of charm hiding a bottomless pit of insecurity, anxiety, and dread. Steve in 1983, Steve before the demogorgon, was so afraid.
Afraid of himself, of his parents, of his peers. Afraid to fuck up, to do something wrong, something unforgivable. He never knew what that unforgivable thing was, but he knew it was a risk. He knew he was constantly on the brink of ruining everything.
That fear only went away when he learned what was out there that was worth being scared of. Fighting for your life has a way of putting things in perspective. Meeting Dustin helped. Getting to know the Party - all of them so much younger and braver than him - helped. And Robin, his psychic soul sibling, the peanut butter to his jelly, the lesbian Bonnie to his Clyde. Robin - more than anyone or anything else - helped Steve understand what was important and what wasn’t.
And she’s somewhere, here, in this building. Young, unharmed, full of life. She’s never been drugged, or interrogated, or chased by an eldritch monster made of liquified human beings. She’s never made a Molotov cocktail, or fought demon bats, or come out to her annoying coworker on the disgusting floor of a mall bathroom. She doesn’t know Steve.
He wants to find her and tell her everything that’s happened, to take comfort in her presence and the knowledge that they’re both ok. He misses her so much it’s like he’s walking around with only one lung. He can’t breathe right on his own.
Steve knows she was lonely before they became friends. She told him as much. Lying top to tail on her single bed, legs tangled and hair messy across lilac sheets, lit by the glow of plastic stars on the ceiling, Robin confessed in whispers just how isolated she felt. How carrying that secret alone for so long felt like she had knives under her skin. She hadn’t let herself get close to anyone in case they found out, hadn’t dared to dream that she’d meet someone in Hawkins who’d understand.
If Robin remembered Steve, she’d have shown up at his house yesterday as soon as she was able to get away, but she didn’t. That means, as far as Robin’s concerned, right now Steve’s just the douchebag from her history class who gets bagel crumbs everywhere.
He can’t think about that and not break down. Steve has a plan, and the plan is the one thing getting him through. A storm of panic is brewing above his head, and only militant levels of denial and determination are keeping it at bay. So, Steve can’t lose his shit yet, there’ll be time for that later. First, he has to talk to Eddie.
This proves to be more difficult than expected.
Read the rest on AO3!
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ghastlyprinces · 6 months
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Hashah Tovah! It's Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and there's no such thing as too much Jewish Steve in my book (that being said, this story isn't about the New Year, it's about Shabbat hfjdks)
Also, I'm gonna be honest, this fic is a love letter to Judaism and my experiences with my temple and the people there. My experiences aren't universal, though, so please don't take anything here as, like, the end-all-be-all of Judaism. If you have questions about anything here, you can ask me; I'll be happy to answer ^_^
The time period is also very loose. Upside Down happened, but some of the attitudes are probably a bit more modern. Honestly, I suggest just shutting off your brain and enjoying the story lmao
CW: vague mentions of antisemitism and homophobia
As always, if you see any typos no you didn't
(also this is like 4k so buckle in bois)
----
Steve's car has officially given up on life. Honestly, he's surprised it even managed to live this long. For all it's been through, it probably deserves some rest and TLC. Steve just wishes it could have demanded that rest and TLC on any other day.
Because it's Friday. Because it's Shabbat. Because he's about to have a mob of concerned elderly members of his temple crowding his door if he doesn't go to services tonight, and that's not something he wants his neighbors to see.
He considers calling Robin, but she won't be much help. She might be his Emergency Goy, but she doesn't have a car. Now that he's thinking about it, Robin may not be the best Emergency Goy, not that he'd ever tell her that.
He knows one other person with a car, of course, but that means he has to call Eddie. Not that Steve has anything against him, of course, but Eddie makes him feel a lot of things that he's not quite ready to confront just yet.
Steve frowns, staring at the phone for a long moment, trying to come up with any other option.
Steve comes up empty.
Shit.
He takes a deep breath and takes the phone off the receiver, slowly punching in the numbers as though he'll suddenly have an epiphany before he's finished dialing.
Unfortunately, he doesn't, and the phone is now ringing. It rings twice before getting picked up, Eddie's familiar voice saying, "You've reached Casa de Munson. The fuck do you want?"
"Do you always answer the phone like that?" Steve asks, momentarily forgetting about the favor he was planning to ask.
He hears Eddie hum and can practically picture the way he's now leaning against the wall next to the phone, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Stevie. What, pray tell, has you calling me?" he asks.
Steve almost hangs up. This is already stressful for him. What if Eddie doesn't agree? Worst, what if he does? Wouldn't that mean Eddie is going to see a part of himself that nobody but Robin has seen? That's fucking terrifying. What if Eddie suddenly hates him?
"I, uh, I need a favor," Steve admits.
"What kind of favor?"
If he wanted, Steve could just lie. It wouldn't be his first time lying about Friday plans. "My car won't start," Steve says, hesitating for a second more before continuing, "and I need a ride to the next town tonight."
"Gee, Harrington, get invited to a party?" Eddie asks, a slight edge to his voice that Steve can't quite place.
"What? No. I...it's not a party, okay? This is really important to me, man. Can you give me a ride or should I ask someone else?"
Maybe Hopper or Joyce would have enough time to give him a ride. He just needs to be dropped off. Getting back...can be a bridge he crosses when he comes to it.
"What time would we be getting back?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve from his thoughts.
"Probably after nine. And we need to be there at six, so that means leaving here no later than five," Steve says, trying to ignore the growing hope and sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. "I know it's really last minute, but you could spend the night at my place after. If you want."
"Will it be fun?"
"Uh, maybe? I don't know, man, it kinda depends. I find it fun, but you might get...bored," Steve says. Or offended. Maybe infuriated? Maybe betrayed that this is a whole part of Steve's life he's never hinted at.
"You're being real mysterious about all this, big boy."
"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just hard to explain."
"Well, lucky for you, I'm bored and curious."
----
On the drive, Eddie keeps trying to figure out where Steve is directing him. He keeps asking questions, Steve keeps dodging them, and that feeling of inevitable dread keeps growing.
Of course, all that dodging is rendered obsolete as Eddie pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the van. A few families are walking into the temple, some parents glancing curiously at the unfamiliar van, some glancing suspiciously, and some too distracted by kids to notice.
"Uh, are you sure this is the place?" Eddie asks, frowning slightly as he looks at the temple and then at Steve.
Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, his hands nervously gripping the material of his sweater. "I'm Jewish," he blurts out, feeling his face burning. When a few seconds pass without any response, he burns holes into a tree outside and adds, "It's Friday night services. Shabbat. I've missed too many because of...you know. The, um, the Rabbi called and asked if I was okay, and I promised to be at services tonight. You don't have to stay if you don't feel comfortable."
"You don't look Jewish."
Steve tenses, jerking his head to look at Eddie. There's no malice in his eyes. No suspicion, either, thankfully. He just looks...confused. "What's a Jew supposed to look like?" Steve asks in return, wondering if Eddie even knows that he's toeing the edge of the antisemitic swimming pool.
Eddie opens his mouth before closing it again. "Uh...I don't know, actually. Just...not you, I guess?"
Okay. Yeah. Steve can deal with this. He forces himself to relax. "Well, Jews come in all shapes and sizes," he says. He hesitates before deciding to get a burning question out of the way. "Are you angry?"
"What the fuck would I be angry about?"
"That I didn't tell you. That I was Jewish. To be fair, only Robin knows."
Eddie shakes his head, turning in his seat to face Steve. "No, Stevie, I'm not angry. I mean, I live in Hawkins, too. Not exactly the place to be standing out unless you wanna get accused of murder."
Despite himself, Steve can't help snorting at that. He takes a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his shoulders. "Well, uh, do you want to stay for services?" he asks.
"Can I? I'm not Jewish. And I'm dressed like this," Eddie says, gesturing at his clothes.
A Hellfire Club shirt, denim vest, gaudy rings, and dark jeans. It's incredibly Eddie, and something about it reassures Steve. He says, "You're with me, so not being Jewish is fine. And your clothes are okay, too. It's not formal."
"My shirt literally says Hellfire."
"Well, it's a good thing Judaism doesn't really have a hell."
Eddie stares at him for a few seconds, clearly full of questions, but then he just nods and climbs out of the van. Steve blinks and scrambles out as well, wanting to create some kind of buffer between Eddie and the congregation members who see a stranger and instantly become defensive.
The moment he's shut the door, he hears a little kid shout excitedly, "Steve!"
He whirls around in time to see a young girl rush across the parking lot, much to the shock and concern of her guardian. Thankfully, there aren't any cars, so the girl is unimpeded in her rush to Steve.
Eddie comes around the side of the van just in time to see the girl launch herself at Steve, giggling when he lifts her up and spins. "Yael! Have you gotten bigger?" he asks, smiling brightly as he comes to a stop and sets her on his waist.
Yael returns his smile with a grin of her own, tilting her head up so he can clearly see the brand-new gap in her teeth. "I lost a tooth! See? It came out last week," she tells him, practically bouncing in his arms.
By now, Yael's grandfather has reached them, smiling indulgently. "Yael," he says, his voice gentle but firm, "you know better than to run across parking lots." When she mumbles an apology, he looks at Steve, his smile turning warm. "Steve, it's been a few weeks. I'm glad to see you again, and you've even brought a friend."
Steve returns the smile and nods, shifting closer to Eddie. "Yeah, things got a little...chaotic in Hawkins. Oh. Mr. Adler, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, Elijah Alder."
Mr. Adler's eyes light up, and Steve suddenly remembers something incredibly embarrassing. "Oh?" he says, looking at Eddie with renewed interest, "So this is the famous Eddie Munson? I'm glad to see you've healed well."
Eddie blinks, glancing at Steve. "Uh, thanks. How'd you know?"
"Steve asked the Rabbi to include you during the Mi Shebeirach."
"The Misha what now?"
"Mi Shebeirach," Steve says, gently nudging Eddie with his elbow. "It's a prayer for healing."
Mr. Adler nods once, his eyes practically dancing with new gossip. "Oh, yes, you've created quite the stir among the Sisterhood, you know. They have a backlog of Mi Shebeirach cards and nowhere to send them."
Steve translates that information as "the old ladies have been dying to know who this mysterious Eddie Munson is, so Steve had better brace himself." His smile becomes a little strained. "Well, let's get it over with, then."
Mr. Adler nods and gestures for Steve and Eddie to follow as he leads them toward the temple. While they walk, Yael looks at Eddie, her eyes wide. "Why is your hair so long?" she asks.
"Cuz I like it that way."
"Oh. Why are you wearing rings?"
"Because they're cool."
"Oh. Why did you need healing?"
"I was hurt really bad."
"Oh. By what?"
"A bear."
"Oh. Are you Steve's friend?"
Eddie glances at Steve, meeting his eyes for a brief second before smiling at Yael. "Yeah, Stevie and I are best friends."
Yael smiles right back. "Steve is my best friend, too! He's super strong and can carry me without getting tired and makes the best hamentaschen at Purim!"
"Yael," Mr. Adler says, cutting off any continuation of the conversation as they reach the doors of the temple. "Why don't you go let the Rabbi know Steve has joined us?"
Her entire face lights up with joy. "Okay!" she shouts, wiggling in Steve's arms until he lets her down. She tugs open the door, straining until Steve smiles and helps her. "Thanks! Bye, Steve!"
With that, she dashes into the temple, her voice carrying Steve's name into the room full of other people. When almost all of them, including three children that Steve can see, stop what they're doing and look over at the door, Mr. Adler says from behind Steve and Eddie, "Brace yourselves, my boys. The wolves have appeared."
Steve groans as Mr. Adler pushes them both inside. "Should I be worried?" Eddie whispers, leaning in closer to Steve as the door shuts behind them.
"I apologize in advance," Steve tells him.
Despite his words, he has a large grin as the three kids shout his name and rush over, much like Yael did. They're followed by a few teenagers and their parents. The kids pounce on Steve, two holding onto his biceps and hanging from them as he raises his arms while the third clings to his leg.
"Where ya been?" one of the teens asks, her hair pulled back into a ponytail so permed it looks ready to burst.
"Yeah, man, I've been manning the oneg table by myself," another teen says, his arms crossed over a Metallica shirt. He's got piercings climbing up one ear and through an eyebrow, and his gaze moves to Eddie as he speaks, taking in the other boy. "Who's this?"
"Yeah," another girl asks, smiling at Eddie and batting her eyes in a way that makes even Steve feel uncomfortable, "who's your friend, Steve?"
"Kids," an older woman says, pushing her way through them, "you know better than to crowd. Shouldn't you be passing out prayer books right now?" Once she's managed to shoo the teens away, she turns her gaze on the children still clinging to Steve. "And you three, I heard Mrs. Rost needs help in the kitchen. Something about there being too many cookies to platter all by herself."
Steve suddenly finds himself weightless as the kids abandon him, dashing down the hall toward the kitchen. He smiles with slight relief and looks at the woman. "Thanks," he says, rolling his shoulders.
"Of course, Steve. Now, who's your friend?" she asks, looking Eddie up and down curiously.
"Oh, right. Uh. Rabbi, this is Eddie Munson. Eddie, this is Rabbi Sara. I, um, I was hoping he could sit in on services tonight?"
Rabbi Sara immediately smiles at them. She holds out her hand to Eddie, shaking firmly when he returns the gesture. "Of course! I'm glad to see you're doing better, Eddie. We've been a bit worried about you here," she says. She glances around before leaning in and conspiratorially whispering, "There's a betting pool on whether his name would be added to the Mourner's Kiddish."
Steve snorts, knowing exactly which members would have started that bet. "Yeah, well, tell Diane and Yakov they've lost."
Rabbi Sara barely holds back her laughter, nodding once as she lets go of Eddie's hand. "Well, how about I spare you boys from socializing more," she offers.
When Steve nods, she gestures for them to follow her, leading the way to the sanctuary. He glances at Eddie as they walk, taking in the way he's tugging on a lock of hair and looking at the hall around them. "You doing okay?" Steve whispers, leaning in closer.
Eddie glances at him, is silent for a few minutes, and then says, "It's a lot to take in."
"Service will be easier. Lots of music. You'll like it," Steve promises, smiling reassuringly at Eddie. He hesitates before adding, "And if you want to leave, just let me know. The important part was making sure people saw I wasn't dead."
That's not entirely true. Steve doesn't want to leave the Shabbat service. He misses the routine of it and the feeling of togetherness as everyone sings. But Eddie's comfort is taking precedence here; he's already given Steve a ride and has begun subjecting himself to Steve's nosy congregation. Leaving early if he gets overwhelmed is the least Steve can do, really.
The teen in the Metallica shirt, Sam, holds out two prayer books when Rabbi Sara leads them to the sanctuary doors. His gaze lingers on Eddie for a few seconds more before asking, "Dude, do I know you?"
Eddie blinks and raises an eyebrow. "I don't know. Do you?"
Their gazes hold for nearly a minute before Sam's eyes widen and light with recognition. Steve is bracing himself for the worst (you know, devil worshipper, accused murderer, wannabe criminal, take your pick). Instead, Sam grins and says, "Yeah, I totally do! You're in that band, yeah? The one that plays at Hideout sometimes? Corroded Coffin. Your music is metal, man."
Eddie returns Sam's grin, throwing an arm over his shoulders and leaning in close. "You know, you're alright. Always happy to meet a fan. What's your favorite song?"
"You played that new one last Saturday. Bats, I think. It spoke to me, man."
Steve stares at Eddie, wondering how he missed the fact that Corroded Coffin started playing gigs again. A curl of something like regret or maybe hurt begins to build in his stomach, and he's almost overtaken by it when Eddie nods and says, "Oh, yeah, that one's about Stevie."
"Oohh, dude, that makes so much sense now."
"You wrote a song about me?" Steve asks, successfully regaining Eddie's attention.
Apparently, Eddie sort of forgot he was there. His relaxed posture becomes a little awkward, and he removes his arm from Sam's shoulder. He clears his throat, tugging a lock of hair in front of his mouth as he says, "Yeah. Is, uh, is that a problem?"
"No," Steve says, feeling a reassuring smile tug at his lips, "but you should play it for me sometime."
"This is all very touching," a voice says behind them, "but can you take the flirting inside the sanctuary? We still need our prayer books."
Steve jolts and looks behind them, laughing awkwardly when he sees Rivkah, a woman in her early 30s, and her partner, Tamar. "Sorry," he says, grabbing Eddie's arm and dragging him through the doors.
"Hey, Harrington," Eddie whispers, allowing himself to be pulled over to some chairs near the left corner of the sanctuary, "is everything okay? Like...are we...safe?"
It takes a moment for Steve to understand what Eddie means. Like, of course, he can't guarantee their safety. It's a synagogue. Every person here old enough to understand the world knows the risk, the potential for one person to show up and wreak utter destruction. Steve is about to say as much (and explain the temple's "worst case scenario" game plan) when he notices Eddie glancing at Rivkah and Tamar.
A light bulb practically clicks on above him, and he almost laughs at himself. He sits down and tugs Eddie into the seat next to him. "Yeah, we're safe, Eds," he promises, smiling softly when Eddie looks at him. "Rivkah and Tamar are married. I attended the ceremony. It was very nice. Tamar broke the glass."
Eddie's eyes widen slightly, and he looks around the sanctuary with renewed interest. His gaze especially lingers on the people that file in, taking in the couples and families and groups that wouldn't make much sense outside the temple's doors. Steve is content to let him look, allowing himself to relax back into the seat and wait.
After almost 15 minutes, Rabbi Sara approaches the bema and smiles at everyone. "Good evening, and Shabbat Shalom," she says, nodding along as her greeting is returned. "I'm glad to see so many familiar faces tonight. And some new ones. The week has been long for some of us, but it's now come to an end, and we have gathered to celebrate its end, another week's beginning, and being together. Now, please open your books to page 47 for the L'cha Dodi."
Steve flips open his book as Anna, the cantor and the same girl who tried to flirt with Eddie, starts playing the guitar next to Rabbi Sara. "Uh, the book is backward," Eddie whispers, leaning close to Steve.
"Hebrew is written right to left," Steve explains, taking Eddie's book and opening it to the right page. "Also, don't worry about singing along. Just try to follow. If you don't know where we are, just nudge me. I'll point you to the right spot."
Eddie nods, looking almost overwhelmed, but Rabbi Sara starts singing before Steve can reassure him verbally. Instead, he just shifts so their shoulders are pressed together, flashing a tiny smile when Eddie looks at him before joining the rest of the congregation in singing.
Steve has to point Eddie at the right line a few times, but he doesn't mind. He's memorized the prayer by now, and the book is really just for show. He pulls Eddie up with the rest of the congregation during the L'cha Dodi, turns him to the sanctuary doors, and places a hand on his back to gently nudge him into a bow. Eddie blinks through it, following along but seeming overwhelmed by the entire process. When the prayer is finished and Rabbi Sara invites them to greet each other, Steve looks at Eddie with a smile (one of the most genuine smiles he's had in weeks), holds out his hand, and says, "Shabbat Shalom, Eddie."
Eddie doesn't hesitate to take his hand, leaning in close and returning the smile. "Shabbat Shalom?" he asks, speaking slowly to test the words and let Steve approve of the pronunciation. When Steve nods, Eddie's smile grows wider, and he whispers, "Shabbat Shalom, sweetheart."
That...that's a new nickname. And Steve doesn't know what to do with it. Maybe Eddie just wanted the pseudo-alliteration, but his smile says otherwise, and Steve feels like he's frozen in place.
And then a few of the kids dash over to him, shouting, "Shabbat Shalom!" at the top of their lungs and practically fighting to shake his hand first. Steve would feel honored if he didn't know they raced to beat each other to every adult.
After greeting, they light the candles. After lighting the candles, Rabbi Sara leads them into the next prayer, the rest of the service flowing smoothly with her as their guide.
The service is (beautifully, wonderfully, incredibly, thankfully) the same as always. Prayers are sung, and Steve can practically feel them in his bones. He's never been particularly religious (his mother would say they're more culturally Jewish than anything else), but he can't deny that the sound of over 50 people, young and old and in-between, singing together is an otherworldly experience.
They are singing a language that only a few of them actually know how to speak. Steve is reading a language that he wouldn't recognize outside of the prayer book. It's disconcerting as always, but also special, because he shares in the ignorance and devotion wrapped into singing words he wouldn't understand without the book's translation on the opposite page.
The Mi Shebeirach and the Mourner's Kiddish are Steve's sign that service is almost over. And for the first time in forever, Steve doesn't speak any names when Rabbi Sara calls for them. He sinks back into his seat, an unfamiliar relief easing tension he didn't even know he had anymore. But it's true. Everyone is fine, and they've all healed, and Steve no longer has to say Max's name or Will's or Hopper's or Eddie's. He no longer has to dodge questions or call up the Rabbi and ask her to include an extra name in the service.
And this realization, the sheer relief he feels at the simple act of staying quiet when Rabbi Sara's gaze sweeps past him, is almost enough to bring him to tears. His throat gets tight, his eyes burn, and his voice almost cracks when he joins the rest of the congregation in singing for those in need of healing and those who have passed.
Eddie nudges him gently, and Steve glances at him and then at their shared armrest. Eddie's hand is lying palm-up, a silent invitation, and Steve doesn't hesitate to accept. He slips his hand into Eddie's, interlocking their fingers, and feels infinitely better when Eddie squeezes his hand gently.
----
"So," Steve says, refraining from getting up as others file out of the sanctuary, practically tripping over kids racing to reach the oneg brownies first, "did you...like it?"
Eddie is silent for a few minutes, staring down at their hands. Steve almost pulls away, an apology ready on his tongue, when Eddie squeezes his hand tighter. "Yeah. It was...different. But good. I...there was more singing than I expected."
Steve grins, glancing up to see the sanctuary has mostly cleared, and stands. He pulls Eddie up with him. "Yeah, we sing most of our prayers. It's nice."
"It is," Eddie agrees, still looking a little lost for words.
Steve doesn't push. Instead, he pulls, leading Eddie out of the sanctuary. He gives their prayer books to Sam, grabs two tiny, sample-sized cups of Manischewitz wine, and gives one to Eddie. "Don't drink it yet," he says, nodding to where Rabbi Sara has her own cup and is waiting for the rest to be passed around.
Once everyone is ready, she blesses the wine, blesses the challah, and invites them all to drink and eat. Steve braces himself before knocking the wine back, the strong, warm grape flavor coating his tongue, vaguely reminiscent of cough medicine. He sees the same grimace on Eddie's face. "This is shit wine," Eddie whispers, his nose still scrunched as he tosses the cup into the trashcan like he can't get rid of it fast enough.
"Yeah. It's specifically for services," Steve says, "it's not supposed to be good."
"Right," Eddie mumbles, glancing at the oneg table, his eyes lingering on the desserts laid out. "Do you wanna stick around? You know, talk to people?"
Usually, Steve would. He likes catching up with the kids and teens, likes ganging up on them when their parents come around and playfully scold them, and he likes hearing the most recent temple gossip. But as he looks at Eddie, feels their hands still tightly holding onto each other, Steve finds he doesn't mind leaving early.
So, he leans in closer to Eddie and grins at him. "Or," he whispers, "we could steal an extra pack of brownies from the kitchen, sneak out the back, and eat them on the drive home."
Eddie returns the grin, amusement and eagerness practically dancing in his eyes, and says, "You read my mind, sweetheart."
Later, when Eddie pulls into Steve's driveway after an hour-long ride spent eating brownies, explaining different prayers, and telling him about old temple gossip, a different kind of tension will start to fester between them. Steve will delay getting out of the car, Eddie won't comment on it, and they'll slowly gravitate toward each other.
And they'll kiss. It will be awkward and taste like chocolate and end far too quickly, but it will be perfect.
Steve will pull away, a faint blush rising and his heart racing faster than it ever did with Nancy, and shyly offer to let Eddie spend the night. And Eddie will accept and spend the night and ask to attend Shabbat with Steve again and...
And so much more.
But for now, while he has no clue of the future that's about to start after an hour's drive, Steve glances around the crowded hall and pulls Eddie toward the kitchen.
After all, they've got brownies to steal.
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
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ros mary ! You agree.
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
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This is the official blog for the Vest Frank comic! It is a B&W fictional autobiography comic set in the late 1920's that follow the main character Vest Frank.
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
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Eddie and Steve's apartment morphs into what can only be described as a baby-proofed cluttered mess when Joanie enters their lives. And it only gets worse once she starts crawling.
Wayne discovers this when he arrives for a short stay over after being called up by the boys, proudly announcing their daughter began getting around on her own.
He chuckles as he looks around the cramped and crowded apartment. He suspects its more a case of keeping necessities within convenient arms reach than anything else. Plus, giving the kid the run of the place.
The dining table is a sight, covered in textbooks and paperwork from Steve's studies. And judging by the highchair set up close to the only cleared dining chair, she must be keeping him company too.
Steve gives a hurried, “Hi” and rushes to said table, collecting up his work to organise into one pile.
The living room is another story.
Each piece of furniture is pushed to the edges of the small room, like it's bursting at the seams and ready to explode out the windows. Everything is out of reach too, including the relatively harmless television remote.
Relatively harmless when you consider Eddie once dunked Wayne's remote into a short-lived fish tank years back...
His old coffee table is pushed up against the wall, making space for a playpen. In the centre of the room is a playmat, where his granddaughter is rolling around as that demonic black cat, Ozzy, examines her from after before vaulting over the couch and disappearing completely.
God knows where that other grey nightmare has got to.
“We live on the floor now,” Eddie enthuses, clapping a hand on his shoulder.
Steve grumbles and nods with grave seriousness as he appears next to him. Despite the good thirty years between them, on a bad day, Steve suffers from the same level of back pain.
“Come on,” Eddie beams, “I gotta show you all the stuff Joanie can do.”
His nephew puffs out his chest, proud.
Wayne smiles. He gets it, he really does. Even though he didn’t become Eddie’s legal guardian until the kid was ten, he’d spent enough time looking after him during the earlier milestones to take pride in them too.
“Eddie, our daughter isn’t a dog!” Steve chastises, pinching his nose.
“What?” Eddie feigns innocence, “I just want to show off all her tricks to her Pa!”
“If anything, that made her sound even more like a participant in a dog show!” Steve reiterates, glaring before lowering down at a snail's pace to join Joanie on the floor.
“Don’t worry,” Eddie mumbles, leaning in with his typical lack of personal space, “He’s just grumpy because he has a bunch of studying to do this weekend.”
“I can hear you, Eddie!” Steve calls from his spot on the floor, “And I’ll have time for us to watch a game,” he looks at his surroundings and grimaces, “… Maybe we’ll go to a sports bar.”
Eddie practically lunges into the living area and bumps into Steve on his way to joining his family, almost toppling the boy sideways.
Wayne follows along slowly, his bad knee already paining him at the thought of sitting on the floor and also (mainly) the dread of somehow finding his way back up.
“You know you’re gonna have to help me up off this rug,” he gripes, sitting on the couch with a loud sigh, "If I had’a known I was gonna end up with a rambunctious granddaughter scuttlin’ around, I would’a billed that top-secret Doc for a knee replacement.”
His back pains a little as he goes, lowering to the floor as he braces himself with his arm on the couch.
“I can ask Nancy to look into that,” Steve offers as he spots him, “… If you want, of course!”
Wayne waves the boy away as he settles with his back against the couch.
Eddie soon slaps at his shoulder as Joanie rolls onto her stomach and pushes up with her hands.
They all sit up a little straighter eager and expectant.
Joanie takes off, crawling with vigour as she makes little grunting noises to spur herself on. She bypasses Steve, who whimpers with disappointment like a sad puppy. And she quickly zooms past Eddie too.
Wayne’s heart swells his granddaughter pauses to look up at him with a wide, toothy smile. But she goes on her way, making a beeline for a purple sparkly dragon plushie upended next to Steve's coveted recliner.
Of course that's what Eddie's offspring would prioritise getting her little hands on.
Joanie plops herself down, holding the toy up in victory as she makes spittle-filled whooshing noises and waves it about.
She remains with her back to the trio left for dust on the other side the living room, off in her own floor-based world.
More of this au HERE
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Note
Hi! i'm in love with your demon! eddie post!! thinking about a lil hurt/ comfort with steve feeling self conscious about what demon eddie sees in him because of his scars (maybe previous dates have had choice words for them etc), especially when eddie constantly waxes poetic about steve's beauty
Sorry this took a few days to respond to. I’ve been busy, but I was excited to keep this AU going! (this is a continuation of Steve Accidentally Summons a Demon)
Steve Accidentally Summons a Demon Part 2
“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are, little one?” Eddie asks as he gently traces his claws along Steve’s arm, so careful not to harm him with the affectionate action.
His touch stops when it reaches the boy’s shirt sleeve, unable to continue past it since he knows the reaction he’ll get from Steve.
The thing is that Steve loves being touched by his demon husband, really.
Eddie’s a generous lover who always puts his pleasure above all else. He uses anything and everything at his disposal to make sure Steve’s thoroughly satisfied every night before they fall sleep in each other’s arms.
And that’s all fine and dandy, but he still doesn’t want to take his shirt off.
Is it a bit silly to allow Eddie free access to whatever he wants as long as it’s not there? Maybe. But after being told by enough partners that his scars are grotesque, Steve’s not very eager to expose the ‘less than pretty’ parts of him to the guy who proposed five minutes after they met.
For some unfathomable reason, Eddie seems to think he’s perfect.
For many obvious reasons, Steve doesn’t want him to know how wrong he is.
And as sweet as his demon is, Eddie’s never insisted on pushing the matter of his physical insecurities further. The first time Steve clammed up when he tried to remove his shirt, Eddie had to calm him down from a panic attack over it and he promised not to try it again. They compromised and found ways to adapt to Steve’s level of comfort, not allowing it to keep them from one another.
Ever since then, it’s just become normal for them to do things a little differently.
“You’re crazy, Ed,” Steve brushes off the compliment, scooching back in the bed so he can cuddle up to his husband a little more.
Eddie scoffs lightly at that, pressing his lips against the back of Steve’s neck and speaking words directly into his skin.
“You really have no idea of the beauty you possess, my love…” Eddie muses, continuing to plant kisses along the parts of his neck and shoulders that aren’t covered by his shirt.
It’s not much to work with, but it’s still too much.
Something about the sincere worship of his flawed body puts Steve on edge quickly. It hurts to hear Eddie lavish him in words of praise when he knows exactly what he looks like. Certain parts of him may be adequate, perhaps even desirable, but Eddie hasn’t seen the scars.
He doesn’t know what the uneven flesh looks like where Steve had been damn near flayed alive by the horrors of the upside down. Eddie hasn’t caressed the skin of his belly and sides to realize how rough they are. Jagged. Ugly.
Steve’s heard it all before, even from those who promised they’d be gentle with him. So yes, he can bare his soul to Eddie… but not his body. Not all of it anyway.
“You’re wrong,” Steve protests softly, unable to raise his voice any further for fear of breaking down into tears.
And wouldn’t that just be perfect? That would really tell Eddie what a prize he is, crying over his inability to take a compliment.
He stays facing away from his husband, silently praying that the demon will fall asleep before they can talk about this. Because if Eddie pushes, if he asks for the truth, Steve will tell him. He won’t be able to keep it all inside anymore.
It will all be for nothing.
“Sweet boy…”
Somehow that’s all it takes to push him over the edge, tears spilling from his eyes and broken sobs leaving his mouth despite his every effort to silence his sorrow into something easier to swallow.
Eddie doesn’t let him though.
His husband wastes no time moving so they’re face to face. Clawed hands made for murder and destruction show only love and tenderness for the boy he’d married without hesitation.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Eddie. You deserve so much better than me,” he confesses, burying his face in the demon’s chest and allowing him to hold him in a tight embrace.
This is his place of safety, a real home he’s never had until Eddie came along and gave him one.
A single finger slides beneath his chin, guiding him to lift his head just enough to look Eddie in the eyes. Through his blurry vision, he sees the love of his life giving him a fond expression. He doesn’t seem angry with Steve or even sad per say.
Just a look of devotion on his handsome face.
“Steve, do you know why I pledged my service to you? Do you understand what compelled me, one of hell’s most feared creatures, to swear my allegiance to a silly boy who attempted to sacrifice a sandwich to me?” Eddie asks him slowly, his words full of honey and sweetness. He sounds like the predator he truly is, able to melt his sentences into something tempting and warm.
Steve can only shake his head, unsure what could’ve possibly convinced Eddie to want a forever with him.
“I— I don’t know,” he answers honestly.
Eddie’s smile grows, clearly amused by his response.
“I could tell that whatever you’d been through was somehow worse than a demanding demon showing up in your kitchen unannounced because you didn’t even flinch at my presence.”
That hardly seems like a reason for marriage. Steve’s protests are faint, but he challenges Eddie’s claim.
“So what? I’ve been through some shit. That doesn’t make what’s left of me any more appealing,” he argues weakly.
Eddie kisses his forehead once before finishing his explanation in a soothing tone that brings only peace to him.
“I’ve found that the most lovely things in this world have not only survived death, but they thrive in the face of it. And you, my dearest husband, had already been to hell and back without my help. Those marks on your gorgeous body that you despise so much are only proof of your victory, a testament to your strength. So trust me when I say that I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in all my thousands of years of existence, sweetheart.”
That’s the first night Steve undresses completely for his husband and allows Eddie to worship the entirety of him.
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Link
by Steddiery
Everything just started with a letter to prank someone who has tortured him for years, but then it ends up in someone else’s locker and becomes a little more then friends…
Words: 2009, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Categories: M/M
Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Vickie (Stranger Things), Nancy Wheeler, Gareth (Stranger Things)
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Additional Tags: Gay Sex, Steddie Microfic August (Stranger Things), Smut, Fluff and Angst, Love Letters, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Underage Drinking, Eating Disorders, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Gareth & Eddie Munson Are Best Friends, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Text
Care to Dance?
Inspired by @imfinereallyy’s post
Robin, Steve and Eddie planned this night for weeks. They drove up to Indianapolis to spend the evening at the gay bar. A place where they could be themselves and not worry.
Steve took a shot of vodka before turning around at the bar, facing the dance floor. He could see Robin speed talking to a girl about Nancy’s height, the girl gently playing with the edge of Robin’s jacket.
Eddie … well, he looked hot as ever. He was playing billiards in the corner of the bar with another guy, showing him how to angle the cue just right for the perfect hit. Steve could feel jealousy in the pit of his stomach, but he knew he wasn’t Eddie’s type.
Steve’s been harmlessly flirting with Eddie, putting himself out there on the ledge, only for Eddie to talk about some other guy he met in Indy. Steve wondered if this was the guy. If Eddie had planned this night so he could see his guy. It wasn’t wrong if he did. Steve just wished he knew so he could prepare himself for the heartbreak.
He knew Eddie wasn’t his, so it really shouldn’t be a problem, right?
“Hey, baby,” a deep voice said hotly against the shell for his ear. “How come a pretty thing like you is all alone tonight?”
“I’m not alone,” Steve said, turning to face the man — to face the dark, brown eyes, the devilish grin. “Not anymore. You want a drink?”
“I’d much rather see you on the dance floor,” the man said, lifting his chin. His grin still plastered across His face. “Or are you more interested in staring at that metalhead?”
“No, I’d like to. Dance, I mean,” Steve said, feeling his cheeks heat up. He didn’t realize he was that obvious for Eddie. The man put his hand on the small of Steve’s back as he lead him out to the dance floor. It started out innocent at first, arms raised, slowly wrapping around each other’s body as they danced to Depeche Mode. Eventually, Steve had his back pressed up against the man’s front. The man pressed a hot kiss against Steve’s skin. Suddenly, Steve realized he didn’t know the man’s name.
“I’m Steve,” he said, a little loud to be heard over the music.
“Dan — Hey!”
Steve felt Dan’s body yanked away from him. Steve turned to see Eddie standing in between him and Dan, now on the ground. He felt someone grab his arm, he yanked it — before realizing it was Robin holding onto him.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Dan spat.
“You,” Eddie snarled back, venom on his tongue. “You’re dancing on my friend.”
“Eddie —“
“Steve, I got it,” Eddie said over his shoulder, before turning his attention to Dan. “What gives you the right to dance on him like that?”
“I did,” Steve snapped, pulling himself out of Robin’s grip and stepping in front of Eddie. “He asked me to dance and I said yes. What gives, Eddie? What are you doing?”
“Protecting you,” Eddie wrinkled his brow, like it was obvious. “We know he isn’t your type, Steve.”
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Steve snapped.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Eddie said.
“I don’t know what you have going on,” Dan interrupted, leaning against Steve. His lips were hot near his ear. “But Pretty Boy, you dump the metalhead, you know where to find me.”
“That’s it —“ Eddie nearly lunged forward to chase after Dan, stopped by Robin and Steve.
“Eddie, what the fuck is up with you?” Steve snapped. “We came out to have a good time and you’re ruining it.”
“I’m ruining it?” Eddie scoffed. “He was the one dancing against you! Does that not bother you?”
“No?” Steve wrinkled his nose. “I liked him.”
“Steve,” Robin said, stepping between the two, trying to calm the tension. “You can’t be leading him on like that.”
“Like what?” Steve asked, feeling his gut twist. He knew he was obvious with his crush on Eddie, but he would get over him. He could. If he just found the right person.
“Steve, you’re straight,” Robin said. “He’s probably thinking he was gonna take you home.”
“I’m … straight?” Steve repeated. “What planet are you from?”
“What?!” Eddie and Robin snapped at the same time. Steve looked between the two of them, his expression dropping.
“You guys thought I was straight?” Steve gaped. “I’m grinding on some guy and you think I’m straight?! We’re at a gay club, and you thought I was straight?”
“You’ve always just talked about girls,” Robin said. “We just —“ she looked at Eddie for help, but he provided none. He stood there, shocked, processing.
“Because the guy I want, doesn’t like me that way,” Steve groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m going for fresh air.”
He pushed past Robin and Eddie to the front of the bar and onto the street. He turned down the alleyway, leaning against the building. He took a deep breath, letting it out.
“Hey.”
Steve looked up at Eddie, offering a cigarette from the box.
“I’m sorry about ruining things with Dan,” Eddie said. “You wanna talk?”
“I just — thought you both knew,” Steve said, taking a cigarette. Eddie flicked his lighter, lighting Steve’s cigarette. “I thought I was obvious. And you even said that ‘Us, queers find each other.’”
“I did say that,” Eddie nodded. “I just thought you were safe, and not …”
“Bisexual,” Steve said, officially coming out. “I’m bisexual.”
“Proud of you,” Eddie said. “Now tell me about this guy you like. And why you don’t think he likes you.”
“He’s super cool. Bad ass,” Steve said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “I know I’m not his type.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been flirting with him for weeks,” Steve said, putting his heart out on the line. If this failed, maybe Dan won’t mind letting him cry on his shoulder. “And he’s ignored all my advances.”
“Maybe he didn’t realize you were flirting with him,” Eddie said. “You know, maybe he thought you were straight?”
Steve’s eyes snapped to Eddie, attempting to read him. Eddie took a drag off his own cigarette.
“Maybe you could try again?” Eddie offered. Steve felt his heart beat rapidly against his chest.
“Eddie —“
“Yes,” Eddie breathed. “Whatever you want. Yes.”
“You,” Steve said. “I want you.”
Eddie crashed his lips against Steve’s in a hot, messy kiss. A little teethy, as they couldn’t help but smile and laugh. They broke away breathless.
“Come on, big boy,” Eddie said, pulling at Steve’s arm. “Let’s go dance.”
•••••
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Link
by derangedfaye
Steve Harrington, a name nobody knew the year prior is taking Hawkins High by storm. He’s charming, flirtatious and cruel. Especially cruel.
Eddie Munson, a grade above Steve Harrington has always loved puzzles, and Steve Harrington is Hawkins Indiana’s very own enigma in Eddie’s eyes.
What will happen when Eddie slowly uncovers the mask of Steve Harrington to see a sad little boy who conflictedly misses his mother?
Words: 514, Chapters: 1/20, Language: English
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Categories: M/M
Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington’s Parents, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington’s Parents, Steve Harrington & Jim “Chief” Hopper
Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington-centric, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is Whipped, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Esteem Issues, Depression, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Parental Jim “Chief” Hopper, Italian Steve Harrington, POV Outsider
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Text
Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 7
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | AO3
-----
Eddie doesn't know why he can't just shut his mouth.
Well, no.
He does know why, and it's because he talks to distract himself, to make himself sound confident and in control and not afraid at all. Fuck, he's terrified right now, and walking by Steve's side and yammering at him helps, even if he kind of thinks he should have stuck more to Ozzy Osborne and less to Nancy Wheeler. The way Steve's looking up ahead at Nancy after Eddie had commented about her true love worthy actions is - complicated in a way that Eddie, if he's honest, never expected to see on Steve Harrington's face.
Eddie'd kind of always figured that the guy had maybe four emotions and not a whole lot else going on under that hair. He feels bad about it now, now that Steve's walking by his side in hell barefoot and bare chested, the copper scent of his blood still marred and fouled by the strange ichor of the demon bats whenever Eddie leans in too close to him, wearing Eddie's vest better than Eddie himself ever has.
For your modesty, Eddie had said, as though it wasn't really for the sake of Eddie's sanity. As if he wasn't tempted by all that bare skin for more than one reason, as if it wasn't mostly because of the dim light and the grime that he hadn't caught more than a handful of the words inked on Steve's skin, the way he'd been staring.
As if he wasn't doing his best not to still stare. He knows there's come on, I didn't even do anything this time on Steve's bicep, knows it sounds like exactly something he said and lied about. Knows there's oh yeah, Jessie's real cute, legs for days somewhere on Steve's chest, and he's trying to think about something else besides the way it makes him scramble to remember if Jessie was one of the many girls he'd pretended to have a crush on.
Something else. Anything else.
Absurdly, he wonders if there's still demon bat blood and flesh between Steve's teeth, if Eddie could taste it as well as smell it if he kissed him.
"It doesn't matter. Nancy and I aren't soulmates," Steve says quietly, yanking Eddie out of his own thoughts and back on to the topic at hand, which is -
Right. Steve and Nancy, not Steve and Eddie and bloody ichor kissing.
"How do you know?" Eddie challenges.
There's a measured, purposeful silence, and Eddie's eyes widen a little.
"Did you test it?" Despite his true love talk, he hadn't known Nancy and Steve were that serious, back in '84 - or maybe one of them just had something really specific on their skin, that let them know immediately.
Steve scoffs, though, lip curled up in the briefest sneer before he seems to give up. "Not intentionally."
Oh. That's - oh.
"Oh," he says lamely, unable to come up with anything else.
He thinks about asking did you ever go to the hospital, then? or is this what you were trying to protect me from? because fuck, he wants, and he's in the middle of hell and he might as well throw it all in, but… what if it isn't him? Right now, Eddie thinks he'd rather hold onto the pretense that it is, that it could be, than know for sure.
Still a goddamn coward.
"She said she loved me," Steve says, once again snapping Eddie back into the conversation, and huh, he's going to have to remember that.
That Steve will talk, too, if Eddie's quiet long enough, if he gives him the space and shows him that he'll listen.
"Not all the time, but enough," Steve continues. "I believed her. But then - she said that we were just pretending. That it was all bullshit. Both of those things can't be true."
Eddie swallows. "I mean… yeah, sure they can. People can have a lot of feelings about things that are messy and don't make sense, right? Like she could love you and think what you guys were going through was bullshit."
Steve's quiet, and there's this look on his face like he wants so bad it's hurting him, and fuck, Eddie's heart aches. Then Steve seems to shake himself out of it.
"We've got more important shit to worry about, anyway. How're you holding up, man?"
Eddie blinks at him, thrown by the quick subject change. "Fine?"
Steve gives him a look, but - he isn't actually lying.
"Oh, you know, I'm terrified as shit and I feel like my legs are jello and my lungs are about to give out, but at least the murderous mob can't find me down here and I'm not in this alone anymore, so, you know. Things are looking up."
That gets Steve to give a little amused huff, at least, one corner of his mouth turned up in a little smile before his expression goes contemplative. "Maybe I should talk to them."
"Uh." Eddie stares at him. "To who?"
"Carver and the rest of the team. I mean, I don't really know the freshmen, but the older guys seem to be the ones leading the charge anyway."
Yeah, no, that still isn't making any more sense, and he raises an eyebrow. "And you're just. Gonna waltz up and ask them nicely to call off the freak hunt? Jesus fucking Christ, man, are you serious with this?"
The look on Steve's face tells him that yes, he is, and -
"Nope, no, uh-uh, I cannot overstate how bad of an idea this is, you - Buckley, Wheeler, a little help over here?"
The girls stop and turn to him practically in unison, and he waves a hand at Steve. "Stevie here thinks he should go have a nice chat with the mob out for my blood and tell them that he's ashamed of their behavior, and they should all go home and think about what they did."
"Hey!" Steve protests, in that harsh whispery tone that says he'd be shouting if he wasn't worried what attention that would draw. "That's not what I meant, geez, I just thought I could try to run interference with the guys on the basketball team."
Nancy and Robin exchange a look.
"I mean, it's not a terrible idea," Robin says, but she looks unsure about what she's saying.
"Of course it's a terrible idea," Nancy retorts. "Do you want to draw their attention to us?"
"I think their attention is already pretty drawn," Steve points out.
"To Eddie," Nancy replies. "What's the point of working to keep him hidden if we're just going to announce that we're involved with him somehow?"
Steve scowls. "How the fuck is Carver not a suspect, anyway? It was his girlfriend, then he's found at the scene of the crime with his friend's body, and he's still walking free and leading the crusade against someone else? That feels like basic detective work to me."
Eddie snorts. "Probably the same reason why your parties used to get busted up with a warning, but I got arrested for supplying the people who went to them."
He expects some blustering protest, especially when he sees Nancy's eyes cut to Steve with a wary resignation, but Steve just deflates a little.
"Oh." He looks over at Robin, giving her this little crestfallen expression with a searching eyebrow raised.
Robin's brows are pinched, and she shrugs at him, which apparently gives Steve the answer to whatever he was asking.
He turns back to them, shoulders squared. "So all the more reason I should talk to them. If he's getting by on that shit, then I can use the same thing to get him off your back."
Nancy looks at him all soft and contemplative, and for a moment Eddie has the horrifying thought that the back up he called for might actually be against him, but -
"It's still not worth the risk," she says firmly. "And we have more important things to worry about right now than Jason Carver."
Another earthquake strikes before Steve can attempt to continue the argument - if he was going to, anyway, Eddie'd seen the look of determination on his face but he's also seen the way he tends to ultimately defer to Nancy.
It doesn't really matter, he guesses, because the shaking is violent enough to knock them around - Nancy ending up held securely in Steve's arms and Eddie and Robin ending up hitting the ground.
Well, Eddie ending up hitting the ground, but for once his ability to throw himself around without thinking comes in handy, and he manages to catch Robin enough that she lands mostly on him.
There's a silent round of looks between the four of them, making sure they're all okay, and then they're off again.
"Hey, Eddie," Robin says as she comes up alongside him. "Thanks for the save."
Eddie huffs out a little laugh. "Steve just did the exact same thing."
Robin's expression goes a little scrunched. "He just threw himself on the ground and gave me an admittedly not very soft landing spot, but better than the Upside Down floor?"
"No, he - hey, shut up, I'm very comfortable - he came up to thank me for a save, too."
Her eyebrows shoot up, and then narrow contemplatively, gaze settling hard on Steve's back where he's walking with Nancy. "Oh did he. Your own personal thank you, huh?"
"Uh."
Eddie doesn't exactly know what to say to that. He'd fixated on Nancy to deflect from his own actions so he didn't have to process finally accepting his massive crush on Steve Harrington in front of the man himself, because she seemed like the obvious choice, but Robin had jumped in after Steve without a second thought, too, maybe she didn't appreciate not being singled out for a thank you.
She doesn't look unappreciated, though, she looks like she's mulling something over, a tentative little smile of amusement tugging at her lips before she looks back at him.
"Well, we both know what you did."
His eyes widen. No. There's no way she knows he's having horny soulmate thoughts about Steve Harrington, she can't -
"Making sure the kids didn't get in the boat?" she prompts. "Even though it meant that you had to come back out on the lake? Yeah, you can talk about being a coward all you want, but we see you."
Eddie flushes, grabbing for a piece of his hair to hide behind and immediately dropping it, considering it's still damp from lake water and Upside Down gunk. "Don't make me into something I'm not, Buckley."
He's not the hero in this. He's barely a party member. He's just - a companion they picked up for this particular quest because they had no other options. Eddie's got no illusions about where he stands in all of this, no matter how much he wants it to be different.
She rolls her eyes. "Well, it's still nice to have another almost adult in all of this. We actually outnumber the children, at least for now."
Eddie frowns. "How many children are involved in all of this?"
"Six," she replies. "A hoard of six of them that used to show up to irritate us when we were just trying to serve ice cream without getting screamed at by overheated mall rats; it was very annoying how many children Steve was friends with. Then I invited myself into their little party, but we kind of got Erica Sinclair involved too, so the numbers didn't exactly improve."
She pauses, then looks at him suspiciously. "You don't come with another child that we're going to have to watch out for, do you?"
He barks out a laugh. "No. The three youngest of my flock are already involved with all of this, it seems. The only thing I come with is blood thirsty jocks."
It comes out light and joking, the way he'd meant it to, but it still makes her look at him consideringly for a moment.
"No," he says, guessing what she's thinking.
"We would, you know, if you wanted us to," Robin tells him. "Steve's run interference with his old crowd before."
He opens his mouth to retort that he doesn't want them to, then snaps it shut, aware that would be a lie before he even says it. "It doesn't really matter what I want right now," he settles on. "Like Wheeler said, it's too risky."
Robin looks at him like she knows exactly what he was going to say, and he shifts his weight uncertainty, fiddling with his rings and waiting for her to call him on it.
She doesn't, though. She just gives a little hum, watching him for a moment longer before turning her focus back on the path ahead of them, calling out to Steve to ask him how much farther and getting into a shouty whisper fight about who needs to lower their voice.
And, well. That's the end of that, it seems, and they continue onto the Wheeler house to get their hands on Nancy's Wheeler's apparent stash of firearms. He tells himself that the warmth he feels is the satisfaction of having won that argument twice, and not from the fact that someone - that Steve Harrington - was ready to stand up for him despite the risk.
It's a good thing the lies he tells himself don't count.
-----
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Text
Thursday 27th March 1986
Steve makes Robin and Nancy take Dustin through the gate first.
He’s gathering Eddie into his arms when he realizes there’s a pulse, so faint it’s almost nonexistent, thrumming in the hollow of Eddie’s throat. The faintest of breaths, a tiny moan when Steve lifts him, and he’s cursing himself to hell and back because if he’d thought there was even the slightest chance that Eddie was alive, Steve would have made sure he went with the others.
But Dustin had sobbed that Eddie was dead, and he’s so hurt, there’s so much blood… he might not survive the journey home. He might not make it to the hospital, and would they even treat him? Eddie’s still wanted for murder - what if they turn him away?
Steve scrubs one wet cheek against his shoulder and takes another determined step toward the trailer. The gate has torn the front half of it apart and the damage is visible from the road. Eddie’s temple is pressed against his jaw - still breathing, still alive - and Steve carefully shifts his arms, holding on tight as he can as they stumble forwards.
“We’re gonna make it,” he promises. “You’re gonna be fine.”
There’s a furrow growing in the earth, horrifyingly different from the rift splitting the sky. Across the park, the wispy grey grass that grows in patches across the Upside-Down collapses into ashy dirt, and the road starts crumbling apart in chunks, bucking and yawning as the split gapes wider. The sound it makes as it rips open shudders through Steve’s bones. He wants to cower, to run, but there’s no time for fear. If he stops now, they’ll both die.
The gateways between Hawkins and the Upside-Down that Steve has seen so far have all been disturbingly fleshy. They thrum and writhe, veins of red and crusted black, probing tentacles slick and pulsing. There’s nothing like that beneath the earth. When he looks into the abyss, there is only darkness and, somewhere, many fathoms below, fire.
Thunder roars overhead and the ground shakes under Steve’s feet, sending him to his knees. Eddie’s breathing rattles and stutters. His skin is cool under the hot, sticky blood that makes Steve’s hands slip clumsily as he levers them slowly upright again.
Lightning streaks across the horizon and in the flash of fleeting brightness, Steve can see how the rift widens beyond the trees, rending open under invisible claws, reaching into the woods. As he watches, the Munson trailer slides into the crack with a groaning screech of metal until it's teetering right on the brink.
“Shit.” Steve gasps as he loses his footing, falling back amongst the wreckage with Eddie cradled to his chest. “No, goddamnit!”
“Steve.” Eddie’s eyes are open. There’s fresh blood on his lips. “Go.”
Steve shakes his head, eyes stinging as he swears, “I’m not leaving you.”
It doesn’t matter, it’s too late either way. The trailer crashes into the pit leaving no trace of the gate in the roof behind, just a gaping rent in the clouds overhead.
“Fuck.”
Steve wants to head for cover - to sling Eddie’s arm over his shoulders and flee into the forest, make for Lovers Lake, find some other way home - but he knows it’s hopeless. Eddie knows too, Steve can see it in his face.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Eddie, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t. Don’t say-”
When Eddie coughs, it sounds like something’s tearing in his chest. Steve pulls him close, so he can’t see the fissure crawling nearer, pinning them between the stone wall behind and an impossible drop into nothingness.
“It’s ok.”
It’s so loud. Steve doesn’t know if it’s the thunder or the world ripping itself apart or his heart beating in his ears but it’s deafening. He can’t hear Eddie anymore and he doesn’t want to look as the ground crumbles away beneath them, so he’s watching Eddie’s face and he sees the shape of his name on Eddie’s lips and then they’re falling-
and Steve wakes up.
He’s been here before, so many times. Flung out of dreams with a scream caught in his throat, fists clenched in his bedsheets, haunted by shades of monsters tearing through walls. When he sleeps, shadows with too many teeth chase him through dark tunnels, angry men with cruel fists loom over him while Robin laughs and cries in turns at his back, and they hit him over and over and over…
The nightmares are routine, predictable, but this time something feels different.
Steve was dreaming- no, that’s not right, he was dying. He was falling through a gap in between worlds.
It wasn't a dream, not any normal nightmare. Steve was in the Upside-Down, and now he’s in his room at home.
He knows every inch of this space but the sight of it isn’t remotely soothing. He doesn’t feel grounded by the mattress he’s sitting on, or the stack of textbooks on his desk, or the sunlight filtering through the window, familiar as those things are, because the fixed points he relies on are gone.
There’s no second pillow lying beside him, fresh with the subtle scent of Robin’s citrus shampoo. His work vest is missing from the back of his chair. There’s no walkie on his desk, no polaroids tacked to the wall over his dresser.
This is wrong. Steve can feel it in his gut, it prickles the skin on the back of his neck and sets his teeth on edge. This is all wrong.
Adrenaline sends him to his feet, but it’s like he’s drugged, hungover, something, because his body isn’t responding how he expects it to. He’s unsteady, and his balance is off. He’s… shorter?
“What the hell.”
Steve blinks down at his feet. They don’t look the way they should, but he can’t focus enough to figure out why.
“What…”
When clears his throat, it doesn’t hurt, and that- that isn’t right. He was strangled by those fucking bats, and he inhaled a bunch of Upside-Down crap, and since then, his voice has had a persistent rasp, but now his throat doesn’t hurt at all. He can take a full breath without it burning like battery acid in his lungs.
Steve fumbles his t-shirt up his chest with shaking hands. The skin of his stomach is smooth and whole. No injuries. No bites, no blood, nothing. Heart pounding, he trips across the floor into the bathroom and stares at his reflection in the mirror.
His hair is wrong.
If Robin knew that was the first thing he noticed, she would never let him live it down, but it’s so obvious. His hair is shorter than it’s been since he grew it out senior year, and at this length, un-styled, all the goddamn cow licks make it stick up all over the place. His face looks different, too, under the perturbed frown. Steve pokes at his cheeks. He looks young.
No dark circles. No scars, not the one through his eyebrow from Jonathan, or peeking out of his hairline from Billy, or under his lower lip from the fucking Russians. His nose looks like it’s never been broken before.
“What the hell.”
A soft knock at his bedroom door startles him badly enough that he knocks his toothbrush into the sink.
“Steve?” Is that his mom? “Honey, are you awake? You missed church.”
Church. Steve’s head spins. It’s been years since the Harringtons were in town long enough to bother going to church on Sundays.
“What the fuck is going on,” he hisses under his breath, heading to the door in a daze.
His mother is standing in the hallway. She’s wearing her Sunday best; demure, expensive, fancier than most people would wear to a service in Hawkins. Cynthia Harrington smells like Chanel and her face is twisted into the same perturbed expression Steve was wearing only moments ago.
“Are you sick?” she asks, taking a step backward when she sees his face.
“Um,” Steve says. He forgot how much they looked alike before she started dying her hair blonde.
“I was going to ask you to join us for lunch but if you’re sick, perhaps you shouldn’t.” She twists her tennis bracelet around her wrist absently. “You know we’re flying out this evening. Your father and I can’t afford to catch a cold right before we leave.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Steve manages to say, his voice strangled in a way that conveniently enforces the lie he’s decided to jump on. Better than being dragged to lunch at Enzo’s while he’s mid-panic attack. “I don’t feel well."
“Oh.” She gives him a thorough once-over, head to foot. “You should get some more rest.”
Steve nods woodenly.
“We’ll probably go straight to the airport after we’ve eaten. Your father has to take a call at four o’clock, and he might as well be in the private lounge as sitting around at home.”
Steve’s stomach contracts into a hard knot at the thought of his dad being downstairs. It’s an automatic physical response, one he thought he’d grown out of. She’s offering him an escape. If he’s sick and they stay away, Steve won’t have to speak to his dad before he leaves.
“I’ll have Maria drop off groceries on Tuesday. If you need to call out of school, they can reach me on the usual number.”
“Ok. Thanks, Mom.”
She hesitates, one hand hovering in the air between them briefly before she takes another step away.
“Feel better, darling. We’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah. Travel safe.”
She’s halfway down the stairs by the time Steve remembers to shut his bedroom door.
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
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by a_lil_a_lot
“You sure you want to do this?” Eddie asks, stepping to within a foot of the man, now facing Steve’s side, never taking his eyes off him. He’ll do it one day, Eddie’s sure of it, sure that he needs to, but it doesn’t have to be today.
“Yeah. I’m okay,” he says, voice taught and quiet. Eddie hums in disagreement, making Steve chuckle lightly as he turns to face him, “You’re here.”
It’s genuine. Earnest. And too much for Eddie to bear, pulls on every fine tendon holding his heart together and gently rips open the few stitches he had started to weave in, just to keep himself from falling apart around Steve.
Words: 4634, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M
Characters: Jonathan Byers
Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Additional Tags: Angst, Pining, It’s Mutual but Eddie is a Dumb Idiot, Photographer Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers is a Sweetheart, Everyone Needs a Jonathan in Their Lives, Eddie Munson Needs a Hug, Post-Season/Series 04, Mild Suicidal Ideation, Hopeful Ending, It’s Really a Happy Ending but That Was Not the Point of Writing it, Author Works Through her Issues in Fanfiction, No Beta - We Die Like Steve Harrington’s Heterosexuality
Read on Ao3
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Text
“Look both ways (before you cross my mind)” or Steddie, the musical is updated!
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Read chapter 1.08 - “Sometimes I fall to pieces just to see what bits of me don't fit"
https://archiveofourown.org/works/49053226/chapters/125014357
Don’t forget to check the playlists!
Full playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3dAjlPrpY37hhTLP6YZPp2
Eddie’s songs: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4l6xjTdSRbX9uChWwQdWPg
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
Text
So I’m writing this now, apparently, like I don’t have three other projects I’m working on. Oops! 
Steddie Twister AU 
Part 1 — Before the Storm | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |
When Steve Harrington is 16 years old, the course of one storm changes his life’s trajectory. He wakes up that morning without knowing, could never have known, and that’s the problem. That’s the start of it.
Because Steve Harrington is a dumb high school boy at that point. He cares about his reputation and his sports and his car and his hair and, inexplicably, Nancy Wheeler. He’s never let himself care about someone else before. 
So he breaks when he realizes Nancy is cheating on him with Jonathan Byers, the creep who took creepy stalker photos of them under the guise of “capturing the storm clouds” behind Steve’s house. 
Steve acts out. He’s an asshole. He knows that. Tommy and Carol encourage him, play into his insecurities and vulnerabilities, and before he can even think, he and Jonathan are throwing punches at each other in an alleyway. Jonathan kicks his ass. And Steve probably deserves it.
He needs to apologize. So he heads out to the Byers place, only to find Nancy and Barb there too, and they’re all arguing and shouting and no one hears the wind chimes acting up. None of them notice the TV screen fading to static. 
Jonathan claims he and Nancy are just working on a project for their science class; Nancy backs him up, but Barb accuses her of ignoring their friendship too; Will Byers slips out into the backyard. 
And Steve Harrington stands in the middle of that house and has no idea what’s about to hit them.
Barb stomps out of the house; she’s crying, and Nancy wants to run after her, but Steve steps in her way and demands to know what the fuck is happening. The tornado siren cuts through the argument like butter. Fear strikes down their spines. 
Nancy darts forward like she’s going to follow Barb, wide-eyed and terrified, and Steve has just enough sense to grab her around the middle and bodily haul her toward the Byers storm shelter. 
She screams and beats at his back, but Steve won’t let go, can’t let go, and just prays Barb finds somewhere to hunker down. Jonathan leads them, nervously watching the lights flicker in the house. 
It takes them a moment to realize Will is missing. Jonathan runs back out, slipping by Steve, and he makes a split second decision to try and catch him. Will’s smart, he says, he’ll find somewhere, you can’t go out there, this is fucking stupid. 
But he goes to bring Jonathan back anyway. The wind howls like a terrible monster. Debris flies through the air. The sky is a sickly shade of gray and green and horrifying purple, red. Unnatural. Hail pelts the ground.
Steve finds him struggling to pick up Will’s unconscious body in the backyard, because the kid got hit by a branch. Nancy saves Steve from the same fate. She’s still looking for Barb, head on a swivel, desperate, as they all flee back to safety. 
They find out later that Barb never made it. And so starts the obsession.
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ghastlyprinces · 7 months
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"What the fuck did you do?"
Eddie wasn't expecting hostility when he answered Jeff's phone call, his best friend's usual calm demeanor replaced with open annoyance. And yeah, okay, the annoyance itself wasn’t new, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s actually done anything recently to earn it.
"Well-"
"Actually, no. I'll tell you what you did. You retweeted photos of Steve Harrington - internationally beloved heartthrob actor Steve Harrington - along with the caption 'not to sound like a subby slut but GOD I would be his puppy baby boy in a heartbeat'. So I guess the better question is, what the fuck were you thinking, Eddie?"
Eddie's jaw clicks shut because- yeah, he had done that. Had seen those photos of Steve smoking circling the internet and spent god knows how long just staring at them, had curbed the desire to shove his hand down his pants by posting a single thirst tweet about it.
“I was thinking, Jeff, that I'm allowed to post whatever I want to my private fucking twitter, man. I mean it's a free country, isn't a guy allowed to make a horny tweet about a sexy man every now and then?”
“You are, when you actually post it to your private account and not our award winning band's main account.”
No. Oh no. There's no way Eddie actually-
He rips his phone away from his face to open twitter, and realizes two things simultaneously. One, Jeff is right, he had posted it to the band's account. Not on his private, locked, personal account, but on the account that's actually open and free for literally anyone on earth to look at.
The second thing he realizes is that their notifications are currently flooded with responses to Eddie's tweet, somehow racking up into the thousands in the few hours it's been since. 
Jesus Christ.
“Eddie?”
The metalhead jerks back into the moment and put Jeff on speaker so he can scroll through the horde of replies, says “Fuck, I fucked up. Are we gonna have to do damage control on this?”
In the mess is a reply from Gareth's own personal account: @ corrodededdie stop tweeting from the band account challenge 🙄🙄🙄
”Maybe. There hasn't been any type of response from Harrington or his people, but they might ask us to take it down if it blows up too much.“
Eddie hums, thinking they might be too little, too late about it blowing up too much, and flips over to his main account so he can reply to Gareth's little jab appropriately. He isn't surprised to see that he has a couple of new messages, probably from other people wondering just what the fuck Eddie was thinking, but when he goes to check them-
He's never been happier that he turned on messages from followers only, because then he would have missed this, missed Steve Harrington's little profile picture beaming up at him from the screen of his phone, along with a new message request.
”Jeff, I gotta go,” he says, not even realizing he's cut the other man off.
“Eddie, what-
”Harrington messaged me. I'll call you back.“
Eddie doesn't wait for a response as he hangs up on Jeff, and his hands definitely aren't shaking as he opens the message from Steve. And listen- Eddie is a fan of the guy, that much should be obvious. 
Steve had grown in popularity around the same time Corroded Coffin had; he’d gotten some part in a drama film that had skyrocketed him into stardom, and Eddie fell in love the moment he saw that gorgeous face on the silver screen for the first time. He's never had a chance to interact with the guy, has been in the same place a few times but always missed him, like ships passing in the night, but Eddie's been fine with pining from afar, just like every other person on the planet that's even remotely attracted to men.
Besides, even with how popular Corroded Coffin has gotten over the years - a couple of Grammy’s here, a dozen chart topping metal songs there - Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to just. Know who Eddie is.
With all of this in mind, Eddie is expecting some kind of semi-casual request to take the tweet down, that it's not a good look for his image-
Anything other than what Steve actually sent.
'If you're puppy baby boy, does that make me Master? Or Daddy?'
And Eddie- 
Eddie slides down, sinks into his couch cushion as all of the blood in his body suddenly shifts, rushing to fill his dick like it's a fucking race. The phone almost slips out of his hand and he fumbles it briefly before taking a deep breath. 
Is Steve serious? He wouldn't send that if he wasn't serious, right?
This could be it, could be Eddie's one chance to impress Steve, to get his foot in the door of Steve's interest. He bites his lip and types out a reply, something quick that he sends before he can change his mind.
‘I’m open to either, actually. Do you have a preference, sir?’
He doesn’t expect the typing indicator to come up immediately, and just knowing that Steve is somewhere right now, typing out a response to Eddie, is enough to have him nearly vibrating in his seat.
‘I’m partial to Daddy, myself.’
Fuck fuck fuck.
Eddie takes a breath, tries to think of a response that isn’t just ‘Please, Daddy, can I sit on your massive dick that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that one indie film you did that just had all of your junk out in the open?’
Steve saves him by sending another message.
‘But maybe we could start with Steve, and possibly dinner? Though I’d be happy to see where things go after that.’
He- What-
Eddie must have stopped breathing, because the next time he takes a breath his lungs burn, his mid races because there’s no way Eddie’s long term celebrity crush just asked him on a date. He sits there long enough that the screen goes dark and he scrambles to turn it back on, sees the message still there, real and unchanged.
There’s no way he can say no to this, to Steve, and his hands shake as he types out a response.
‘Dinner would be great. Just name the time and place, Daddy.’
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