I Saw A Tiktok Of Steve Asking Kas!eddie What He Wanted To Eat And It's The Vine Audio Of "the Souls

Sad Steddie Scenario Part 5

Okay I said I needed to just post what I had mostly written instead of everything I wanted have in this chapter, so! Here we are! Hopefully it won't be a year until the next part, yikes.

Previously on SSS: Steve spends a week mourning his relationship while his parents are home and being assholes. Dustin shows up to yell at/comfort him.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

“I’ve got to drive the kids home.”

Eddie watches as Steve’s car pulls away, barely pausing at the stop sign before disappearing around the corner. He stares at the now-empty road until a squawk from the tree overhead startles him into action.

He can’t—he can’t think about what he did right now. He needs to grab his things and get out of here before he loses it. What the fuck just happened? What did he do? God, Steve’s face. No, no, he’s not thinking about it. He’s going back inside to get his shit, and then he’s leaving.

He slams open the door to Gareth’s basement and thunders down the steps. The guys have already settled back in, lounging around, shooting the shit, clearly in no mood to break the party up even though the session is over. They barely glance up when he enters, but Jeff instantly does a double take.

“Whoa, hey, man. You don’t look so good.” That gets all of their eyes on him.

“I broke up with Steve.” He doesn’t mean to say it, but the words are out there now, and it’s real. It’s real and he can’t take it back.

Around him, the guys are clamoring, a loud cacophony that essentially amounts to, “What?!”

“I broke up with him,” he says again, almost disbelieving. His mind is already racing. He can take this back. He can fix this. He just needs to drive to Steve’s house and tell him that he didn’t mean it. That he was body snatched or possessed or Vecna’d.

Okay, maybe not that last one. But, god --

Gareth crows with laughter, breaking through the spiral of Eddie’s thoughts. “Seriously? Good for you dude. We’ve been waiting. And thank god. He was such a square.”

Jeff rolls his eyes at Gareth. “Does it make you a square if you call someone a square?”

“Shut up, man.” Gareth shoves at him and Jeff shoves back.

Grant nudges Eddie from where he sits on the floor next to him, waits for Eddie to look down at him before asking softly, “Seriously, are you okay?”

“I—I don’t know. Did I fuck up?” His voice sounds funny, far off. His eyes refuse to focus. Jeff and Gareth immediately stop their tussling. Gareth leans up from where Jeff has him pinned to the floor, eyes blazing.

“No. This is a good thing. He was a douchebag.”

“You guys were around him for one night,” Eddie argues.

Jeff pushes up from the floor and stands in front of Eddie, serious in a way he rarely is. “Yeah, but Eddie, you’ve been fucked up for months. I know we don’t know what you went through, and I’m not asking you to tell us, but it’s sucked watching you be a freaking zombie.”

“We didn’t even really get to watch you for most of it,” Grant breaks in. “It was like Harrington had you on house arrest. Half the times we tried to visit you and he was there, he refused to let us near you. Every other time, he kicked us out after like five minutes. We had no idea what was going on, we couldn’t talk to you.”

“He was just being protective,” Eddie protests, but it’s weak. Steve had been pretty militant about visitors during the early days after spring break. But Eddie hadn’t minded. For most of his recovery, he hadn’t wanted to see anyone. He’d never explicitly told Steve to keep people away, though. He’d somehow just known. Eddie can only imagine to his friends, though, it looked like they were being deliberately, even maliciously kept away by a known asshole who probably wouldn’t know Eddie from Adam.

Jeff nods at Grant’s words. “We’re your best friends, man. We were terrified over spring break. Then suddenly you’ve got this guy who you couldn’t stand playing guard dog over you, and we’re just supposed to accept that?”

“Now that you’ve been out of your cage for a little while,” Gareth breaks in, “and we get to hang out with both of you for real, he acts like he’d rather be anywhere else. Doesn’t know our names, doesn’t talk with us, can’t even be fucked to remember shit that’s important to you. So, yeah. I think this break up is a good thing.”

Ten minutes ago, so had Eddie. But now all he can see is the devastation on Steve’s face.

“You guys mind if I skip the cleanup? I can get most of the stuff later.”

“Yeah, mean, get out of here. We’ll see you next week.”

“Or before then, if you want to hang out,” Jeff says. “Now that we’ll actually be able to see you.”

Eddie scoops up the papers with his DM notes on them, but leaves his screen, dice, and books to grab later, and trudges to his car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next week is a blur. Eddie barely leaves his room, barely leaves his bed. He hears most of the kids talking to Wayne at various points, but Wayne, like the saint he is, turns them away, leaves Eddie to rot in peace.

He misses Steve. It’s honestly stupid for him to stay in his room the way he does, because Steve is in every corner of it. He’s left so much shit there (including but not limited to: a Hawkins High baseball raglan, a Springsteen cassette, at least two pairs of boxers, and memories, memories fucking everywhere). Eddie can still smell him on his sheets. In his weaker, weirder moments, he finds himself trying to hotbox Steve’s scent, comforter pulled over his head as he buries his nose in his what’s now Steve’s pillow and sniffs hard enough to cause a headache.

Eddie almost drove to Steve’s house after leaving Gareth’s that awful day. Made it three blocks away before he turned around and went home. His brain had been a mess, unable to decide what to do or how he felt, and it still is days later. He goes over everything obsessively - the epic failure of their date, the argument in the car after, the two days he spent ruminating on their fate, and then the break up itself and Steve’s reaction to it.

Eddie’d felt so solid in his decision the minute Steve had opened his mouth at Gareth’s. But as soon as he said it, all his reasons seemed flimsy. Who cares that they had one bad date, that Steve had been at less than his best one time in front of Eddie’s friends, that he’d run the second Eddie had tried to talk about it? Eddie could have tried again, gone over to his house the next day or called him up, talked about it when their heads were cooler. And who cares that they don’t have anything in common? Steve still acts interested in whatever Eddie wants to tell him most of the time. Asks questions, smiles at him so, so sweetly and tells him to keep talking every time Eddie laments that he's boring Steve.

But there’s just been an itch at the back of Eddie’s mind since he got out of the hospital. A shadow at the corner of his eye that disappears when he turns to look at it fully. It tugs at him at odd moments, when things seem to be going fine, good, even, but there’s something off. He can’t see a pattern, but he knows he feels it more when Steve’s around. And every time his friends or Wayne push back against Steve, every time something Steve says hits a sour note, the shadow grows bigger and more menacing.

He’d felt the shadow swell at The Hideout as he waited in the parking lot, watching the minutes tick by. He tried to shake it when Steve showed up, tried to ignore it pulling more insistently as he clocked Steve’s attire, his inattention, his apathy, and his anger. But it grew and grew until it was almost suffocating, until he saw him at Gareth’s and it exploded in words he couldn’t…didn’t want to?…take back.

Now here he is. Midway through a D&D session with his three closest friends and three kids who clearly know something’s up with the way they’ve been trying him since the session started. Lucas and Mike are just being annoying, having side conversations, making Eddie repeat himself when they don’t pay attention to the narration, but Dustin’s actively hostile, antagonizing Eddie’s NPCs at every turn, tossing out snide remarks at the other players unprovoked, even the way he rolls his dice is disrespectful.

“You okay over there, Henderson?” He finally asks, the third time Dustin’s tossed his dice so hard across the board they’ve flown off the table.

Dustin accepts his dice back from Jeff who’d scooped them off the floor easily enough, but he sneers at Eddie. “What do you care, Munson?”

Even though Eddie knows the likely reason Dustin’s acting out, he still revels in the eyes going wide around him, the quiet ooohhs at Dustin’s words. Eddie smiles like a predator indulging its prey.

“A Dungeon Master always cares if his party members are having a good time,” he says, low and dangerous. “So if you have a complaint, I say out with it. Share with the class, please.”

The words and the tone pass over the kid who used to cower at the thought of Eddie being upset with him. The shadow grows larger.

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“Oh, really?” Eddie says, menacing, meeting Henderson’s head-on stare unflinchingly. “Well, if you don’t have anything to say, then—”

“What did you do to Steve?” Mike breaks into their standoff. Eddie’s attention snaps to him.

“Excuse me?”

Mike rolls his eyes at the theatrics, something Eddie wouldn't have imagined possible before spring break. “You heard me.”

“Why do you think I’ve done anything to him?”

“You haven’t been around at all, and Steve hasn’t mentioned you once since our last session. Normally he can’t shut up about you.”

“Mike!” Dustin hisses. Mike throws up his hands.

“It’s true! And his hair’s been all droopy!”

“Jesus Christ, Mike,” Lucas says, dropping his head in his hands.

“Oh no, not his hair!” Gareth cracks up with Grant and Jeff.

“Shut up, man,” Lucas says, with enough annoyance that the other guys stop laughing. Lucas never talks back.

“He dumped him,” Henderson bites off. “For no goddamn reason.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eddie stares Dustin down from behind his DM screen. Yeah, he did do that. But he had his reasons…mostly…and he’s not going to let some snot-nosed freshman, no matter what they’ve been through together, act like he’s the bad guy in this situation. He did what he had to do.

“Yes, I do.”

“What,” Eddie scoffs. “Did Steve run and tattle to you?”

“What is he, five? No he didn’t tattle to me.” Dustin rolls his eyes, which Eddie’s getting real tired of seeing. “It’s not tattling to tell your best friend something bad that happened to you. Besides, he didn’t even want to tell me, but I caught him crying and made him.”

That brings Eddie up short. “He was crying?”

“He was crying.” Dustin says, somehow smug and angry and sad all at once. “I’ve seen Steve after he was tortured and I’ve never seen him cry.”

“After he was what?”

“Dude!” Mike smacks him on the arm, gives him a look as he gestures to the rest of the Hellfire guys whose eyes are all wide as saucers.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Metaphorically tortured,” he amends. Eddie glances at the guys and can see it doesn’t help. Eddie needs to end this now, before anyone says something they regret, or anyone exposes something they really shouldn’t.

“Henderson, listen—” But he’s cut off by a herd of elephants galumphing down the stairs.

“All right, children, it’s time to go! Move your butts!” Instead of elephants, it’s Robin, entering the room like righteous whirlwind. Eddie clocks immediately that she’s spitting mad, eyes ablaze, mouth set.

Gareth, with zero sense of self preservation, whines, “But we haven’t finished yet!” The look Robin shoots him is pure venom.

“Yes, you have.” She dismisses him, and turns back to the kids who are already gathering their things without protest. “Now move it, chop chop. Nancy’s in the station wagon outside.” The kids don’t grumble the way they normally do when…when it’s Steve come to get them and is hurrying them out of the room. Dustin shoulder checks Eddie on the way out, knocking him off balance metaphorically if not physically.

As the kids file upstairs, Robin lingers.

“I need to talk to you,” she says to him. “In private, please.” It’s not a request. Eddie nods. Time for a reckoning.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Next up! Robin and Eddie have it out, and we get more insight into this "shadow" that Eddie feels.

I don't keep a tag list, so sorry! Likes and reblogs and comments are so so so appreciated!

Okay okay we all know Johnny cash did his cover of Hurt and we were all like “ok he owns that now” but I watched the music video he made and I’m like “oh he OWNS it owns it”

"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."

german fanfiction writers of tumblr

please reblog this with your age (if you're comfortable!), the platform you started publishing fics on, and what the name Anne-Rose means to you.

---

The Gift the Keeps on Giving - Part 1

Steve’s always been generous with gifts. Growing up, he had access to money that allowed him to dote upon his friends and loved ones. His ex hated it, said he was flaunting his money, but Steve just liked showing people he cared. It wasn’t about the price of the gift, it was about how he listened and remembered their interests. It just benefited him that he never had to worry about the cost. 

He’s never hesitated to follow through on his gut instinct before, whether something will be too extravagant for the receiving party. Even when he got Jonathan that fancy new camera he wouldn’t shut up about, or Nancy that vacation to Singapore for Christmas after two years together. Even when it ended in breakups both times. He still looks back and remembers the appreciative smiles on their faces when they realized he was listening. He may not have been the right person for either of them, but he was still a good boyfriend. 

There’s no way he’s going to let this year be the first year he lets someone down. His current partner is a little eccentric. Steve was going for something different, he never really intended to find a local metalhead that was into his preppy, jock looks, but it’s been nice having so little in common. Every day he learns about something new, some new band or movie that even Robin hasn’t heard of before. It keeps things interesting. 

So when this hot new metal band Corroded Coffin comes onto the scene, it’s all Steve hears about for months. The album is on a constant loop in the car. The lead singer’s face is practically burned into Steve’s eyelids from how many times they’ve watched the music video for their radio single. He knows when they announce their first tour, he absolutely has to get tickets to the show. What are the odds that they’re playing in Indy and it’s right before Christmas? It’s perfect timing for Steve to make this the best Christmas ever for his boyfriend, who doesn’t have the extra cash lying around for an expense like that. 

Except, when he went to buy tickets, he got the date wrong. He should’ve set an alarm, instead of relying on his shitty memory. The presale happened the day prior, and tickets are gone. Resell prices for tickets are astronomical, something even Steve isn’t willing to fork out for what might not even be a legitimate ticket. He’s been burned before with scalpers, he won’t make that mistake again. He starts scouring the internet, trying to find another source for the tickets. Tries calling the venue to see if there are any available if he physically goes down to the ticket office. Nothing works. 

As the date creeps closer, Steve gets desperate. Robin throws out the idea of messaging the band to see if they’re sympathetic to his story. He never expects anyone to respond when they drunkenly reach out to the band, but he wakes up groggy to a message sitting in his inbox. He stares at his phone in disbelief when he sees the message came from the official Corroded Coffin account. 

Steve doesn’t even remember what he said in the messages from the night prior. He reads back over them and cringes. A not so coherent ramble about how he couldn’t become the worst boyfriend ever at Christmas of all times. Just word vomit everywhere about how this guy might leave him if he doesn’t get the tickets. Which is absurd, because his boyfriend doesn’t even know he’s trying to do this. Maybe he’s got some insecurities from past relationships. At least he didn’t bring up Nancy. 

The reply simply reads ‘Slow down there, pretty boy.’ 

He shakes off the last vestiges of sleep and responds ‘Sorry, I was a little drunk and didn’t think anyone was going to see or respond to this.’ 

The little grey dots pop up right away. ‘You weren’t the only drunk insomniac last night.’ 

Steve huffs a laugh. ‘How crazy do you think I am?’ 

He wonders where they are right now, if it even is one of the band members answering. They probably have someone running their social media accounts. He snaps back to reality when he gets another message. ‘I don’t think it’s crazy to want to make your boyfriend happy. I wanna help.’ And that’s how it starts. 

They trade messages back and forth. He finds out it’s not an intern running their account, that they all have access to it, but only one of them enjoys it. The lead guitarist Eddie Munson is apparently the one responding to him. He sent a picture of his guitar with a hand wrapped around it painted with black nail polish. The same hand that wraps around it in their music video, decked out in a dazzling array of chunky rings. 

He’s never talked to a rock star before. Sure, he’s met famous people through his dad, but they were the boring kind of famous, senators and CEOs. Eddie talks about the tour they’re on. It sounds grueling, like their record took off faster than they expected and now they’re on this whirlwind tour that they love, but it’s daunting having people clamoring over you just a few months after anonymity. 

Before long, they’re talking every day. To the point that Steve feels like he hears more from Eddie Munson than his own boyfriend. He realizes how much of a problem it is when Robin catches him smiling at his phone and makes a joke about being in the honeymoon phase, but he’s not texting his boyfriend. He’s messaging Eddie. How did he get so wrapped up in all of this that he didn’t even see how distant they’ve been? He looks back at the messages with his boyfriend and they haven’t text each other in five days. He can’t even count how many messages have been shared between his account and Corroded Coffin’s since then. There’s too many to go back and tally up. 

Is it emotional cheating if he didn’t realize it was happening? One day he barely knew who Eddie was, the next he was grinning in the car when his music came on, thinking of the silly thing they were messaging about last night. Their messages took a turn from him asking for something to getting to know everything about Eddie Munson’s life as a guy raised in a small town and catapulted into the spotlight, and Steve’s attempts to claw his way out of his father’s grasp and build a family he could call his own. The guilt slaps him in the face. He’s been messaging with one of his boyfriend’s favorite band members, and he has no idea. Telling Eddie Munson things he’s never admitted to his boyfriend. Laid all his fears, hopes, and dreams out there to the wrong person. 

He’s lost sight of what he even started this for, to win over his boyfriend and give him the best Christmas ever. It feels weird to bring it up now in conversation with Eddie. To ask for something like a desperate fan and remind Eddie that he’s a commodity to the public feels cheap. This all spiraled out of control so fast. There’s only one thing he can do. End it. Before this gets worse and he falls stupidly in love with some rockstar he’s never seen in person.

TBC

Rabbit Hole

God, never Google when Season 5 of Stranger Things is coming out. I just wanted the release date, clicked on a link, then another… and suddenly there was fan art… and now I’m on page seven of AO3, deep in Steve/Eddie. Have you seen how long their fics are? What even is this? I have never seen a fandom so collectively committed to the idea that writing anything under 10k words is for the weak.

God, now I desperately want to write something for them, but I know if my fic is under the unspoken yet sacred threshold, I’ll be exiled from the fandom. God.

Bless this fandom. Seriously. You guys are amazing.

Wrong Number, Right Person

938 words | no cw | i know i said i would do eddies pov but everytime i tried writing it it felt off :< | and so sorry this took so long!! i have a LOT of stuff going on personally

|previous chapter|

Robin snatched Steve’s backup phone from his hands before he could protest, scrolling through the messages with a gleeful smirk.

“Oh my god, Steve. You flirted with them.”

“I did not!” Steve lunged for the phone, but Robin dodged, hopping onto the couch to keep it out of reach.

“Uh, ‘I hate how funny you are’? ‘Okay but you have to say who you are though’?” She mimicked his voice in a ridiculous falsetto. “That’s textbook flirting.”

Steve groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not. I was just—curious.”

“Curious,” Robin repeated, deadpan. “Right. Because you totally put this much effort into every wrong number text.”

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it.

Robin grinned. “Exactly. Now—” She tossed the phone back to him. “Text them again.”

Steve fumbled the catch, barely saving it from face-planting onto the floor. “What? No. I already apologized for the wrong number thing. It’d be weird.”

Robin rolled her eyes so hard Steve worried they might get stuck. “Steve. You trauma-dumped about your terrible date to a complete stranger, and they not only listened but joined in on roasting him. That’s not ‘weird.’ That’s fate.”

Steve scoffed. “Fate?”

“Fate,” Robin repeated solemnly, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. “Now text them, or I swear to god, I’ll do it for you.”

Steve hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen.

It was kind of nice talking to them. And they were funny. And—okay, fine, maybe a tiny bit intriguing.

He exhaled sharply and started typing.

Steve: so. about earlier.

Steve: i feel like i should apologize again for trauma dumping on a stranger lmao

The reply came almost instantly.

Unknown Number: nah, don’t worry about it. your suffering was highly entertaining

Steve: wow. glad my pain amuses you

Unknown Number: it really does. so, any updates? did you block the guy? change your name? flee the country

Steve: considering all options tbh

Unknown Number: i vote flee the country.start fresh. new identity.

Steve: you’re a terrible influence

Unknown Number: you have no idea ;)

Steve bit back a grin.

Robin, who had been shamelessly reading over his shoulder, nudged him with her elbow. “Oh my god, they’re flirting with you.”

“They are not,” Steve hissed, though his ears felt suspiciously warm.

Steve: still not gonna tell me who you are?

Unknown Number: nope. but i’ll give you another hint

Steve: …ok?

Unknown Number: i have two eyes

Steve groaned.

Steve: revolutionary. truly.

Unknown Number: i know, i’m so mysterious

Steve: you’re so annoying

Unknown Number: you love it

Steve’s thumb froze over the screen.

Robin let out a loud “Ooooh.”

Steve elbowed her. “Shut up.”

Steve: bold assumption

Unknown Number: not an assumption. a fact.

Steve’s face warmed.

Robin cackled. “Oh my god. They’re good.”

Steve ignored her, typing quickly before he could overthink it.

Steve: okay. if you won’t tell me who you are, at least tell me how you got my number

Unknown Number: wouldn’t you like to know, harrington?

Steve blinked.

Steve: wait. you know my name?

Unknown Number: of course i do.

Robin gasped. “Ohhhh shit.”

Steve’s pulse jumped.

Steve: okay now i definitely need to know who this is

Unknown Number: where’s the fun in that?

Steve: i hate you

Unknown Number: no you don’t

Steve exhaled, exasperated but amused.

Steve: fine. keep your secrets. but i will figure it out

Unknown Number: looking forward to it

Robin snatched the phone again before Steve could stop her, typing rapidly.

“Robin—”

“Relax! I’m helping.”

Steve grabbed for the phone, but she danced out of reach, hitting send with a triumphant smirk.

He stared in horror at the screen.

Steve (Robin): so when are you guys going on your first date? since you’re so sure steve loves you

Steve’s stomach dropped. “Robin.”

The reply came instantly.

Unknown Number: name the time and place. i’ll be there.

Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Robin cackled. “This is the best day of my life.”

Steve grabbed the phone back, typing frantically.

Steve: IGNORE HER. SHE’S A MENACE.

Unknown Number: too late. i already like her

Steve: …this is a nightmare

Unknown Number: don’t worry, steve. i’ll make sure our first date is better than your last one

Steve: you’re insufferable

Unknown Number: you’re blushing

Steve was, in fact, blushing.

Robin collapsed onto the couch next to him, wheezing with laughter. “Oh my god. You’re screwed.”

Steve groaned, throwing an arm over his face.

This was not how today was supposed to go.

(And yet—some small, traitorous part of him was excited.)

Steve stared at his ceiling, phone resting on his chest. He should not be thinking about this. He should not be smiling at his phone like an idiot. And he definitely should not be considering texting them again.

But.

He grabbed his phone.

Steve: okay. one more hint.

Unknown Number: bold of you to assume i’ll give in that easily

Steve: bold of you to assume i won’t annoy you until you do

Unknown Number: oh? so you are planning on keeping me around?

Steve: don’t flatter yourself

Unknown Number: too late ;)

Steve huffed a laugh.

Steve: fine. no hints. but answer me this—do i actually know you?

Unknown Number: maybe

Steve: that’s not an answer

Unknown Number: it’s my answer

Steve: you’re impossible

Unknown Number: and yet here you are, still texting me

Steve rolled onto his side, biting his lip to keep from grinning.

Steve: …shut up.

Unknown Number: make me

Steve’s breath caught.

Oh.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

Because whoever was on the other end of this phone?

Steve was doomed.

taglist: @ellietheasexylibrarian , @tartarusknight , @ravenfrog

This is touching my heart and soul.

Sometimes all we need is just some Happiness.

a comic about fix-it fanfics

Twelve Days of Stranger-mas (5/12)

I'm using the twelve days of Christmas prompts from the @strangerthingswritersguild to create an ongoing fic with a short chapter for each day! steddie | teen&up | temporary character death

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Day 5 Prompt: Five Handwritten Notes

Robin had suggested it. Steve had scoffed and shook his head and sworn he wouldn’t try it. But here he is, pen in hand and notebook in front of him on his desk. Closure, Robin had said he needed.

Dear Eddie Munson, 

Steve scratches that out immediately, feeling like a twelve year old girl writing a diary entry. It’s not like Eddie’s actually going to fucking read it anyway. He tears out the whole page and tosses it into the trash can across the room. 

It takes another week before he tries again. 

Hey Eddie. It’s been two months since you didn’t come back from the Upside Down. It feels like so much longer and yesterday at the same time. It’s not like you’re the first person we’ve lost, so I don’t know why this has hit me so much harder. Maybe it's because of the kids. They talk about you all the time. Sometimes I act like it annoys me, but honestly it’s kind of nice to learn more about you. Those kids idolize you, man. They really do. 

Steve hides the journal under his mattress when he’s done, feeling even more like a twelve year old girl, but he can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, especially with Dustin hanging around all the damn time nowadays. 

Eddie – Fucking hell, I wish you were here to take Dustin off my hands for a while. I know he’s grieving but holy shit, dude. I wake up to him checking in on the walkie every morning, can’t go to work without him stopping by every single day. I can’t even go to sleep without telling him first, otherwise he’ll come banging on my door in the middle of the night, convinced I’ve been attacked by Vecna. 

Time keeps dragging on, and Steve starts to find comfort in writing his stupid little notes to Eddie. He finds himself sitting down most nights, just updating Eddie on his day, however boring. 

I’m sick to the gills of Hawkins, Eddie, I really am. I always thought I’d live my whole life here, settle down with a little family, all that shit. But it’s day after fucking day rewinding tapes, seeing the same kids and same couples and same assholes coming in to rent the same rotation of movies and I think I might lose it, Eds, honestly.

And when things in his life change, when there’s big news or something to vent about, Steve finds himself counting down the hours until he can write an update and get all his thoughts out on paper. 

Robin has a girlfriend. I don’t know if you knew Vickie? Played clarinet in the marching band? Anyway, she’s nice enough, and I’m happy for Robin, so happy for her, she deserves a girlfriend after everything. But… I’m also kind of lonely. We used to moan about being perpetually single together and now all Robin wants to do is talk about Vickie. Or go see Vickie. Or call Vickie on the phone. And I’m left feeling like a pathetic third wheel. 

Do you think we would be friends, if you were still here? I know you can’t answer me, I’m not fucking stupid, but I don’t know. I think we could have been. Surviving that shit does something to you. Bonds you or something. Maybe we would have been close. Sometimes I feel weirdly close to you, just writing these. I don’t know. Maybe. Guess we’ll never know.

Eddie: *to Robin and Steve* Who are these people you're gossiping about again?!

Robin: Oh, we don't actually gossip about real people.

Steve: Yeah, we learned that lesson the hard way.

Robin: So, now we make up people and their backgrounds. We gossip about them.

Eddie: I have been invested for over an hour over people who are NOT real?!

Steve and Robin: Yeah.

Eddie: *throwing up his hands* Either write a fucking book or join Hellfire!

Steve and Robin: *looks at each other before looking back at Eddie* Nah.

Eddie: *screams*