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inklessletter · 2 years ago

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Is it chill that you're in my head ('cause I know that it's delicate)

Read it on Ao3

Steve Harrington has a lot to be thankful for, and he owes his friends almost everything he is at the age of nineteen. He has learnt about humility, self-criticism, tolerance and kindness. He's the best version of himself so far. He has rebuilt himself a few times now thanks to his friends, and there's nothing he can do to express his gratitude but to be as attentive as humanly possible. He doesn't wait for Dustin to ask him to take him to whatever nerdy camp he's going that summer when he's offering to take him across the state; he doesn't expect Lucas to give him a ticket for his next game because he's already bought one; he's front row at any gig of Robin's band; he's at The Hideout on Tuesdays to see Eddie; he shows up to Max's almost daily to help her with her recovery exercises; he offers his place to whatever event, doesn't matter if it's a Hellfire occasional session or Erica's unicorn theme birthday party. It. Doesn't. Matter. Whatever they want, if it's in Steve's power, he'll provide.

And he's happy. He's content with that.

Glad to be of service.

It doesn't really sting that Dustin does not hug him after leaving for three full weeks, or that he doesn't send the postcard he said he'd send. Steve's sure he must have been really busy.

If Lucas glances at him after the game and waves, but doesn't stop to say hello, it's okay. He's been that age, he wants to be with his friends to celebrate.

If after every band concert Robin has this chance to go with Vickie and the others (but especially Vickie) to have a milkshake, he's not going to be upset because good for her. You rock, Robin. She'll tell him all about it later, probably.

If Eddie's bandmates don't like Steve enough to actually spend more than half a beer with him after every concert until Steve makes up an excuse to flee, I mean, maybe he was a jerk to them back in high school. He doesn't remember them, though, but he didn't remember Robin either, so.

If Max only grunts and gets half mad at Steve for forcing her to do her recovery exercises, that's fine, because she's been through so much, she deserves to be cranky. It's not personal.

And if it is not personal the kids not thanking him after the rides, or the parties, or the Hellfire sessions at Steve's (to which he had bought snacks and soft drinks), it makes no sense for Steve to be a little bit hurt. It is not personal, it is not intentional, and Steve owes them so much. They deserve to be spoilt.

It is okay.

It really is.

So, when after one of Eddie's concerts, the metalhead offers Steve to bail and go somewhere else, it's new. Yeah, Steve can do new.

"Are your bandmates going to join us?" Steve asks, beer can in hand, sitting on a bench.

"Nah, I doubt so. We kinda, uh, had a disagreement."

"Yeah? What happened?" Steve jumped in helpful mode way too quickly.

"They were being assholes."

Steve looked away. "Is that so? Were they mean to you?"

"Nop. They were mean to you. So I told them to go fuck themselves."

Steve froze. "You didn't have to do that. I know they don't like me, it's okay. They're not exactly subtle."

"Yeah, Gareth's a bitch when he wants to. And that is, uh, most of the time. And yes, I did have to do that. You've been real supportive showing up to every gig, y'know? I appreciate that. And stayin' after."

And there it was. Steve gulped and the hidden smile faltered when he felt the heavy knot in his throat.

"And so, I realized that we don't spend enough time together. I know it's not ideal I got this conclusion because my friends are absolute jerks, but, yeah. Let's do whatever you want, Steve."

Whatever he wanted?

"Whatever I want?" What the fuck.

"Yeah. What do you do? I mean, apart from being a good friend and stroll around being painfully handsome and shit, what do you do? Do you play a ball game? Read books? Chess? Bowling? If it's any sports, please, remember I wear leather, and I have a reputation to—Steve? You okay, man?"

Steve was far from okay. Steve was listening to Eddie rambling about possible hobbies and Steve was sitting there noticing he almost answered the first question with "I drive the kids around." He was realizing at that moment that he couldn't recall when it was the last time he did something for him. And what was it? He used to have hobbies, didn't he?

He loved swimming, but he hasn't swum in ages. He had intended to take Lucas to play basketball some other time, but Lucas wasn't available. He—well, he liked movies. But he was easygoing, and Robin usually told him that he had to educate him, so he hasn't picked a movie to watch in a very long time.

And those thoughts must have been leaked through Steve's expression, because Eddie was now in front of him looking at him directly.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm—I'm fine. It's just—"

The knot in his throat made it difficult to talk. He was faltering.

"To be fair, I don't have any hobbies."

"Uh-huh."

"I really don't." Steve looked at Eddie, who was gazing back at him with a deeply dramatic expression of incredulity.

"So, you're telling me that all you do is be a good friend and be handsome. I don't buy it."

Steve laughed a bit, and the knot seemed to ease a little, but now his hands were slightly shaking.

"I mean, I used to have hobbies when I was a kid, but not anymore."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? I'm an adult now, I don't have time!"

"I'm an adult now. I'm literally older than you and I run a D&D club and play in a metal band."

"Well, maybe you organize your schedule better, I don't know."

"Ok, let's say it's a matter of organization. What would you like to do?"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Yes!"

"Come on—"

"Steve—"

"I don't know! I don't know, okay? I have no clue what I'm into, I—I can't really—I'm just—it's fine if we do whatever you want, Eddie, really."

It wasn't fine. There were a few seconds of silence, but they fell after that in an easy conversation about music, and then they talked about the brats, and then they took another beer. It wasn't bad or awkward, Eddie had the superpower of making interesting any place he was in, but Steve felt uneasy after that conversation.

When he came back home at almost two in the morning, he realized that he didn't know basic stuff about himself, such as what he did like. He didn't recognise himself in the mirror. He got lost somewhere in rebuilding himself; he couldn't even remember who he was, beyond the lingering feeling of shame of his past self.

He cried himself to sleep.

Eddie started showing up unannounced, and Steve found himself enjoying his company. Eddie suggested different shit to do every day. "Let's go to the movies, you pick", "hey, some friends play tonight at a pub, it's not metal, I swear", "I brought these board games, maybe you like them", "wanna go play pool?", and stuff like that. Steve agreed easily to anything Eddie proposed.

He liked Eddie before, but after Steve realized that Eddie was actively trying to find whatever Steve loved, a warm swarm of butterflies settled in Steve's stomach with no intention to leave. It's not like Steve hasn't questioned his sexuality before, especially after knowing Robin's, but this new dynamic with Eddie made it really easy for him to acknowledge that he wasn't fully straight. Eddie made him feel warm, and safe, and cradled, every single time. And that was also absolutely frightening.

That day, Eddie had suggested staying home and baking a chocolate cake. It was the first time Steve actually asked if it was okay to leave the TV on, he wanted to watch the basketball game. While baking, Steve cheerfully told Eddie about the rules, and the strategies, and the teams, and that this was a final. Eddie actively listened, asking for some demonstrations of some things Steve explained, like a dunk, and Steve would use some dough and Eddie's arms in a circle position to actually demonstrate. The kitchen was so messy, it never stood a chance, but Eddie had never seen Steve laugh so freely, so sincerely.

The cake was in the oven, the kitchen smelled so good, and Steve and Eddie were cleaning the absolute disaster they've made. Steve's cheeks were a little pink.

"I'm gonna remember this", Eddie said.

"Hm?"

"This, as in baking and basketball. We should do it again."

Steve bit his smile, and focused on cleaning the countertop. The butterflies in his stomach were rioting.

"There's a game every week, you know."

"It works for me."

The week went agonizingly slow until the next game night. He had considered telling Robin about his feelings, but he wanted to keep it in a little bit longer, a little bit before speaking it out and it becoming real. A thing to deal with.

Just one more date.

The knock in Steve's front door stirred up the butterflies. Eddie was here already, it was game night.

When Steve opened the door there was not only Eddie, but the whole gang.

"Steve! We're baking carrot cake and cheesecake today!" Dustin shouted, lifting a bag with groceries. The kids said hi coming into Steve's house. Some went to the kitchen, some others were looking for the game on the TV. Still in the front door, Eddie smiled at Steve.

"What's going on?"

"See, I was hanging out with the gremlins at Hellfire a few nights ago and I might have told them you were into game night and baking, and they all wanted to come."

Steve was speechless.

"But why?"

Eddie grinned, full heartedly.

"I have the impression that the brats want to be part of your life, too. I might even dare to say they—we love you, Steve", Eddie's voice was low, and his gaze was fully pinned to Steve's eyes.

Steve smiled, shaky.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really," Eddie said.

There were a few seconds of silence, leaning faces, full of smiles and flustered cheeks.

"Come on, Stevie. The game is starting and there are unsupervised kids in a room where they can easily make a fire," Eddie said, closing the door, and taking Steve by the hand towards the kitchen.

Oh, butterflies, have mercy on him.

#stranger things #fic #ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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Little Runaway Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Wayne walked into the sheriff’s station the next morning, coffee in hand.

“Hey, Hop!” Wayne greeted cheerily.

Hopper stood up and gave Wayne a hug. “Hey, Munson, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He eyed the coffee in Wayne’s hand. “That coffee for me?”

Wayne handed it over. Hopper took a long sip and sighed happily.

“The coffee here is no better than mud most days,” he grumbled.

Wayne sat down and nodded to the picture on Hopper’s desk. “That the Harrington kid?”

Hopper sighed again, this time more resigned. “Yeah. No one’s seen him in a week and Clint is breathing down my neck to find him. Only he’s a grown man now and can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Bit strange him not telling any of his friends where he went, though,” Wayne said.

Hopper groaned. “I know. I’m worried about him, too. And with Harrington breathing down my neck, it almost feels like he’s done something to him.”

Wayne jutted his chin at the styrofoam cup in Hopper’s hand. Hopper frowned and slowly turned it around.

“Oh.”

“You know, I was thinking it’s been a while since I beat your ass at chess,” Wayne said, deadpan. “Why don’t you come over after your shift, I’ll make dinner, we can have a few beers and I can whoop your ass.”

Hopper downed the rest of his cup and crushed in his fist. “Sure thing, Wayne. I’m off at four.”

Wayne stood up and waved goodbye.

Hopper made sure the cup was properly disposed of. Didn’t want to liter, after all.

Hopper pulled into the trailer park sometime after five and Wayne came out to greet him.

“Eddie’s almost done with the burgers,” he said. “Let’s get set up and he’ll bring out the food.”

Hopper led the way to the tables, Wayne following behind, chessboard in hand.

But when they got to the table Hopper stopped dead in his tracks. There sat a badly bruised Steve Harrington, looking down at his hands as if he was expecting another beating.

Hopper went over and knelt in front of Steve, gently tilting his back so Hopper could see the damage. He whistled long and low.

“Your daddy do that you, son?” he asked as gentle as his touch.

Steve nodded.

“You break his nose for the trouble?” Hopper asked.

Steve nodded again.

“Good. Now you tell me everything.”

Wayne set up the chessboard and Steve started talking. Everything just tumbling out about the years upon years of abuse.

Hopper listened, but kept his eyes on the board in front of him so that it was easier for Steve to talk. As if he was talking to himself instead of someone who had the ability to make his life hell.

When Steve was done he looked over at the board and cocked his head.

“He’s got you dead to rights in three moves, Sheriff,” he murmured.

Hopper looked at the board then back up at Steve. “How do you know that?”

“I’m really good at pattern recognition,” Steve said with a shrug, “and the pattern on that board says Wayne is about to kick your ass.”

Hopper looked down at the chess board and cursed, Wayne laughed.

“Better you than me, Stevie,” Eddie said, holding two plates of burgers.

Wayne smiled at his nephew. “Eddie here is more left brained, creative. I don’t mind him not being able to play.”

Eddie smiled softly as he set down the food.

Wayne stood up. “Here let me help you get the buns and condiments.”

Eddie looked over at Steve concerned.

Wayne clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Come on.”

Eddie let his uncle lead him away, but he looked back over his shoulder at Steve.

Once they were gone, Hopper turned to Steve. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a knight in shining armor.”

Steve frowned. “Who? Eddie? I don’t think he likes me much.”

Hopper chuckled. “Don’t think that’s true.”

Steve just shook his head.

“So that’s quite a story you just told,” Hopper said after a moment.

“You don’t believe me?” Steve asked, his voice wobbling. He had trusted Wayne to bring the sheriff in and now he was just going to be handed over to his dad on a silver plate. He started to breathe heavily.

Hopper leapt over the table and grabbed both of Steve’s hands. “Hey, hey!”

Steve looked at him, his eyes wide with terror.

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” Hopper said softly. “It came out wrong. I’m sorry.”

Steve nodded, tears starting to form.

“The problem is kid is that your daddy is holding all the cards right now,” Hopper said. “We need some kind of proof he did it.”

Steve nodded. “Would pictures of me after the fight help?”

Hopper looked at him appraisingly. “I guess that depends on what’s in the pictures.”

Steve pulled out the photos from his back pocket. All of them were Polaroids of him in various forms of posing for the camera showing off all the bruises on his back, sides, and face.

Hopper looked at one in particular with a grin. “That dumbass didn’t take off his ring to hit you.”

Steve frowned. “He never does, why?”

Hopper turned to him and his grin got bigger. “That’s a rookie mistake. You see you’re daddy’s ring is unique. One of a kind.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “So this is evidence that he beat me?”

“Yup,” Hopper said. “And even if he claims you hit first breaking his nose, this is beyond self defense. This is rage.”

“I’ll be safe?” Steve asked, not quite daring to hope.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Hopper said. He put the pictures in his jacket pocket just in time for Eddie and Wayne to come back.

“Let’s eat!” Wayne said, setting down his haul.

Eddie sat down next to Steve. “You okay?”

Steve looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah. I think for the first time in my life I can say that with some kind of certainty.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked.

Steve bumped his shoulder. “Thanks to you.”

They started to eat and about half way through, Hopper asked, “You got a job, son?”

Steve shook his head. “My last job got blown up.”

Hopper chuckled. “You worked at the mall?”

Steve nodded.

“Anything else you can do besides customer service?” Hopper asked.

“I know a bit about cars,” Steve murmured into his plate. “I know my way around the inside of an engine. It was one thing my dad encouraged me to like until he realized I was good at it.”

Wayne scoffed. “Sounds like Clint all right.”

“I’ve got a cousin that runs a garage,” Hopper said. “I could talk to him about giving you a chance. Once this whole thing blows over I mean.”

Steve lit up. “That would be great.”

Wayne got a calculated look on his face and Hopper smiled.

Eddie gave Steve a sly look. “If you’re good with cars, then take a look at my van and see what’s wrong with it.”

Steve lit up. “I’d love to!” He hurried to finish his food.

“Take easy there, big boy,” Eddie said, laughing. “It’ll keep. I’d rather you didn’t choke.”

Steve blushed, but slowed down eating.

Eddie just shook his head.

Once they finished, Eddie and Steve cleared the table, leaving Wayne and Hopper alone.

“You got a good kid there, Wayne,” Hopper said.

“He’s a bit rough around the edges,” Wayne murmured, “but he’s got the biggest heart I know.”

Hopper nodded. “And it looks as though you’ve picked up another one.”

Wayne chuckled. “It appears to be a Munson trait, picking up lost strays.”

Hopper laughed. “Seems like it.” He stood up and clapped Wayne on the shoulder. “I’ve got a couple of calls to make. And a witch hunt to call off.”

Wayne grinned. “Just let me know if you need my help.”

Hopper nodded.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

Tag List: @steve-the-hairrington @satan-is-obsessed @sadcanadianwinter @yearningagain @books-are-my-life-since-1996 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @homohomohoe

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #gay steve harrington #abuse tw #ladykailtiha writes

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theshippirate22 · 11 months ago

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i know not a single one of y’all cares about my Eddie In Wonderland au but it’s all I ever think about so you get to hear more about it anyway

So the premise is that Eddie finds himself falling and he doesn’t really know how he got there, he thinks maybe he’s found a gate to the Upside Down but when he finally lands he finds himself in. Wonderland. Stereotypical, mystical wonderland.

There’s a bit of a struggle with the Eat Me/Drink Me bit, but once he gets it figured out and gets through the door, he starts out through this weird ass forest, looking for some sort of sense in what must be a really, really bad trip

Instead, he finds Argyle in a blue and green tracksuit on a giant mushroom with a hookah, the entirety of the younger party at a massive table playing TnT (tea and treacle, obviously) lead by a perfectly nonsensical Dustin who traded in his ballcap for a top hat, and eventually, the towering and ominous Castle belonging to the King of Broken Hearts, one Steve Harrington.

In Steve’s court, he quickly learns that the Deck kingdom is in a cold war with the Chess kingdom. Apparently a few months earlier, King Steve was meant to marry the Queen of Hearts, Miss Nancy Wheeler, but the night before the wedding she told him she didn’t love him and the whole thing was bullshit.

Furious and heartbroken, Steve banished her from Deck, saying she could seek refuge in Chess or go beyond the Wonderland forest. She made it to Chess and was taken in, and Steve, the once lovely and gracious ruler, was left coldhearted and cruel.

Robin and Chrissy, the red and white queens of Chess respectively, fled shortly after this whole affair, because they were locked into marriages of benefit but were actually in love with each other, and sought asylum in Steve’s court. However, they did not tell him of their affections in fear that his unhappiness would lead him to deny them of their own. Instead they act usually as like his second in commands, and they’re the ones that fill Eddie in on everything that’s happening

Anyway so Deck and Chess really don’t like each other because Chess thinks Steve stole their heirs and because Steve thinks Chess has Nancy and he’s pissed about it.

But there have been all these prophecies about the coming of the Jabberwocky (ahem kind of mind flayed shaped) and Wonderland needs to be preparing for it to come because the fated White Knight hasn’t been seen in years and everyone is like 98% sure he’s dead so he’s not coming to save them, and the signs of its arrival are all happening and everyone is begging Steve to offer a truce to Chess because there’s no way Deck alone can defeat the Jabberwocky but he has no interest in doing that.

Until of course, Eddie shows up and knocks his whole life on its head because he’s… well, he’s falling in love with him and it’s making him realize maybe him and Nancy weren’t the best pairing and maybe it’s good they never got married actually? and Eddie is realizing that Steve is just so…. sad. and that’s what makes him so angry. but when they’re together, Steve is so much less of a tyrant and so much more of a man that just wants to be important to somebody.

And he’s important to Eddie.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie au #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #fic idea

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desiccatedwithering · 2 years ago

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we live in troubled days (oh, my friend, we have the strangest ways) — ch 4/6?

(5.4k || read on ao3) (ch1 || ch2 || ch3)

He cannot do this.

It was bad enough trying to hang out with just Harrington, but Robin’s presence adds a whole new layer of weirdness.

It’s like this is a game of tri-dimensional chess, except instead of playing, he’s a rook. Or probably a pawn. Certainly not someone with a high enough vantage point to actually understand anything happening on the board.

For example:

Robin announces that they both have to watch her hang her new Rudolph ornament—dubbed Rolph—on the tree, and they dutifully follow her. While she and Harrington discuss the best location for him, Eddie takes in the tree, which is decorated with a baffling mix of perfectly matching glass ornaments and what can only be described as a middle school art room explosion. The number of painted light bulbs and cinnamon stick snowmen and paper snowflakes is truly staggering. Not at all what Eddie would’ve expected, given the rest of the decor in this atrocious house.

“There,” Robin says, finally placing the ornament on a suitable branch. “I think that’s good. You?”

“Yeah. Here, I’ll turn on the lights to make sure.” Then Harrington flips the surge strip on, and—

“Sweet! I love bubble lights,” Eddie says.

Robin replies, “Steve thought his parents’ rich person white ones were boring.”

Harrington nods, says, “But I can’t do normal colored ones because of, y’know,” makes a vague hand gesture towards the ceiling, and leaves the room.

Eddie’s subsequent attempts to communicate, What the fuck, that was weird, right? with his eyes fail spectacularly as Robin gets lost watching the bubbles.

He leaves her to stare at the lights and returns to Harrington’s side like a dog to its master’s heel. Honestly, this whole thing is starting to get pathetic. How has he failed to find any concrete evidence? He really thought he would be better at this whole investigation thing.

Should he just try to seem less nerdy so that Harrington loses interest in killing him? What do normal guys talk about? Better question: What do popular guys talk about? Big parties? But Eddie’s never been to one of those without dealing—and talking about hard drugs right now would probably start an international incident, based on the way Harrington reacted to weed.

Cars are out, since he doubts Harrington wants to hear about his van’s many and varied ailments.

Which leaves… sports? Yeah, Eddie can—probably—fudge a decent amount of Sports Knowledge, based on gym class and osmosis from the times Wayne’s watched a game in the trailer.

“Balls.” Nope! Immediate disaster! Being murdered right now would be a blessing, honestly, but Eddie rallies and says, “Uh, I mean. Basketball.”

Harrington stares at him for a moment, then says, tentatively, “…Yes?”

Eddie nods, trying to look like someone who’s voluntarily played a sport before. “You played in high school, right?”

“Yeah,” Harrington says, sounding like it’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard. Then he clears his throat and continues, less bitchily, “Well, not my senior year, since I was benched after Hargrove tried to cave my skull in with a plate, but. Before that.”

Eddie tries not to wince. Hargrove is probably a sore topic. Time to redirect. “Swimming!” he declares.

Harrington stares some more.

“You were, uh, captain, right?” What’s the least nerdy way to stand? Should he lean on something all cool and casual? Or will that make him look sickly, like his muscles aren’t strong enough to keep him upright?

“Co-captain,” Harrington corrects.

Eddie nods vaguely. “Right. Cool.”

“Cool,” Harrington echoes. He continues to watch Eddie with an unreadable expression, and Eddie desperately hopes that his nerves don’t show and he passes whatever jock visual test is happening right now. “Are you actually at all interested in sports?”

“Nope.” What the fuck! Jesus, he needs to find a brain to mouth filter.

Harrington snorts and turns back to the stove. “You don’t have to pretend to like sports for me. Just talk about your nerdy shit, or whatever.”

Yeah, he’s not doing that while trying to seem less nerdy, thank you very much. Eddie leans against the island—in a very athletic way, because you never know when your future murderer might glance over—and says, “Robin told me the kids were on their way?”

Harrington nods and calls, “Hey, Rob, did Dustin give you an ETA?”

“No, he just said—” Robin cuts herself off, and Eddie glances at the doorway to find her frowning at him. “Oh, Jesus Christ, Steve. What have you done to Eddie now?”

“What?”

“Just look at him.”

Harrington turns to look at his, again, totally normal and athletic leaning and says, “Shit, are you ok? Why are you slouching like that? Do you need painkillers or something?”

Eddie straightens up, pulling his hair in front of his face. “No, uh. Just. Stretching.”

Harrington eyes him for a moment longer—looking for weaknesses to exploit?—before turning to Robin and asking, “Hey, Rob, can you go set the table for me?”

“Ugh. Seriously? I’m a guest. I shouldn’t have to do work. You’re being a bad host.”

Harrington scoffs. “You practically live here. You don’t count as a guest anymore.”

“Why didn’t you do it while I was asleep?”

“Because I was cooking?” Harrington pointedly stirs the pot of… whatever he’s making now, then nods in Eddie’s direction. “And entertaining Eddie.”

“Oh-ho. Entertaining him, huh?” Robin leans back against the counter beside him with a wide grin. Her eyebrows wiggle around like seizing caterpillars.

Eddie has died and gone to hell; he’s sure of it.

Harrington’s cheeks flush red, and he takes a halfhearted swipe at her. “Get off my counter and make yourself useful.”

“This is cruel and unusual torture,” Robin laments, even as she opens up cabinets and starts pulling out glasses.

“I can help,” Eddie offers, not really keen on being alone in a room with Harrington after the joke Robin just made, even if Harrington hadn’t reacted badly.

“No, you’ll mess it up,” Robin says instantly, scowling at him like he’s committed some heinous crime. She grabs the stack of glasses and swans out of the room.

Before Eddie can figure out if he should be offended that she apparently thinks him incapable of setting a table, Harrington says, “She’s very particular about the place settings.” He raises his voice a bit and continues, “Which is why it’s stupid that we have this argument every single time.”

“You get extra bitchy if you don’t have regularly scheduled pointless arguments. They’re enrichment for your inner mean girl,” Robin calls back. “And I maintain that I shouldn’t have to set the table myself; you should just do it correctly.”

Harrington visibly bites back a response to that and turns to Eddie instead. “I forgot to ask earlier: Did you like the cake?”

And like an idiot who’s apparently incapable of not making every situation worse for himself, Eddie says, “I didn’t eat it.”

“Oh.” Harrington’s face falls. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How is he doing that with his eyes?

“My uncle ate it!” Eddie blurts. “Before I had a chance. Said it was delicious.”

Which is all true, technically. Sure, it leaves out the fact that Eddie had absolutely no intention of eating it himself. And it omits the near panic attack he had when he realized that Wayne had eaten it.

“Oh, um. That’s—”

“What’s the deal with that anyway?” Eddie asks, too loudly, desperate to redirect the conversation. “The whole ‘leaving a slice of cake on someone’s doorstep’ thing, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s something I read in an article about how to have a gay Christmas.”

Eddie is possessed by a demon. That’s the only explanation for why he immediately replies, “I’ll show you a gay Christmas.” God, and in a flirty tone? Was he just flirting? With King Steve? The man planning to murder him? Genuine question: What the fuck is wrong with his brain?

Harrington blinks at him for a second. His eyes darken and Eddie braces himself for a punch, but instead Harrington just sidles close, close, way too close and says, voice low, “Oh yeah?”

Eddie is saved by the bell. Or, in this case, a familiar knock immediately followed by the children throwing open the door like they own the place.

“Take your shoes off!” Harrington orders instantly, stepping out of Eddie’s space and heading for the door. Eddie trails after him like a duckling. Or a masochist.

“We know, Steve,” Dustin complains. Eddie loves the kid, but Christ, his attitude sometimes.

“If you knew, you would just do it without me having to remind you—”

“Happy birthday, Steve!” the kids all chorus over his bitching as he steps into the foyer.

Harrington sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, I’m sure that joke will just keep getting funnier every year.”

“It’s not a joke, Steve!” Dustin gasps, hand to his heart like the drama queen he is. “Why would we joke about your birthday? We’re all proud of you for managing to survive another year.”

“And forty’s a big milestone,” Mike says with a shit-eating grin.

“Haha. You can turn right around and go home, Wheeler.”

“Nancy’s long gone.”

“You have legs. I’m sure you can use them.”

“Wait,” Eddie says, before Mike has a chance to start whining, “it’s your birthday, and you still told me not to bring a present?”

“It’s not my birthday. Apparently the 26th is Saint Stephen’s Day, and someone felt the need to share that information. So now the kids think they’re being cute.”

“In my defense, I thought you picked the day on purpose,” Lucas calls from down the hall.

“Back up. You didn’t bring Steve a present, Eddie?” Dustin asks, extremely accusatory for a kid who literally ordered Eddie not to bring anything.

“You’re the one who told me not to!”

“Yeah, ‘cause Steve was all weird about it and told me to give you the message! But I didn’t think you’d actually listen. Who doesn’t bring something to a party?”

“For your information, I did bring something.”

“Oh yeah? What was it?”

Hmm. The kids must know that he’s a drug dealer, but Harrington was already weird at the thought of weed existing in the same house as them, so he probably shouldn’t bring it up. He scoffs. “None of your business, pipsqueak. It’s for adults.”

“Porn?” Dustin screeches.

“What? No!”

“Who has porn?” Robin asks, turning the corner to join the conversation at literally the worst possible moment.

“Apparently Eddie brought Steve porn for Christmas,” Max says, gleefully.

“Ewww.” Robin wrinkles her nose and eyes him suspiciously. Is he going insane, or does she linger on his hanky? He fights the urge to hide it in his pocket. “What kind?”

Eddie slashes his arms through the air. “No! Jesus Christ, I didn’t bring him porn! It was just weed.”

“Oh,” Dustin says, deflating. Then he puffs up again, like an angry rooster. “Wait, you brought Steve weed? Like, marijuana? That’s worse than not getting him a present at all! You know he’s been sober since the summer.”

Eddie stares at him. “How the fuck would I know that?”

“Because I’ve talked about it before? Do you not listen when I—”

“Wait,” Harrington cuts in, turning to Dustin with his hands on his hips, strangely severe for something that literally doesn’t matter. “You’ve talked about it?”

Robin lets out a low “oooh,” like she’s just heard a classmate be called into the principal's office.

“A passing mention!” Dustin says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t go into, like—” he covers his mouth and then continues in the loudest whisper Eddie’s ever heard “—classified details, obviously. Though the papers we signed aren’t even legally binding—”

“Maybe not for you little shitheads, but I’m over eighteen—”

“Excuse me,” the tiniest child—who Eddie is pretty sure he’s never seen before—says abruptly. “I see that Robin is eating a cookie right now, and if I don’t get one in the next thirty seconds, I’m calling CPS.”

Harrington immediately abandons his argument with Dustin and whirls on her, slamming his hands onto his hips. “You know where the kitchen is, Erica. And what the fuck would CPS do?”

Erica scoffs. “Uh, protect me? I am a child, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, is what you are,” Harrington mutters, running a hand through his hair and looking extremely harried for someone who supposedly hangs out with these children regularly. “I’m not your parent? CPS can’t do shit to me.”

“Uh, CPS is part of the government,” Erica says, in that classic middle schooler How stupid can you be? voice. “And the government owes me free dessert for life.”

“Wasn’t it just ice cream?”

She rolls her eyes. “It changed to all desserts when I nearly died multiple times and had to rescue your useless ass.”

“Language, shithead,” Harrington says absently.

“Wait. Since when does the government owe you that? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but none of us are government agents.” Robin gestures—bizarrely—between herself, Harrington, and Dustin. “And besides, the deal was null and void when Scoops burnt down.”

“The deal with you losers was void. But I negotiated a better one with the government. If they want me to keep my mouth shut, they have to give me something in exchange.”

“Shit, we could do that?” Lucas asks, walking back into the foyer and handing Erica a cookie.

She sighs. “You know, for a bunch of nerds, you’re all real stupid.”

“Hey! I just got you a cookie, and you’re calling me stupid?”

“That’s the only reason I’m not being meaner.”

“How does free dessert from the government even work?” Eddie asks. Everyone turns to stare at him, like they’d forgotten that he was also in the room for… all of whatever that was. Super cool vibe. “Do you have some sort of coupon signed by the president? Do you have to keep every receipt and report it on your taxes?”

“How should I know? I’m eleven.”

“But—”

“Damn,” Robin says loudly. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize we could extort the government. Then I could use my money from Family Video for something fun, rather than just saving it for college.”

Ok, yeah! Just talk over him; that’s fine. Also, what? Eddie’s, like, eighty-seven percent sure this has something to do with that “top secret” D&D campaign that the boys think he doesn’t know about, but why were Harrington and Robin involved? And why would Family Video be included? Maybe he was wrong about the D&D aspect. It could be some other game system, set in modern day for some lame reason and all about boring real life problems rather than cool shit like fighting monsters and—

“What?” Harrington asks, frowning. “Rob, all of us have ‘tuition funds.’”

“Since when?”

“Uh, ‘84 for most of us, and ‘85 for you and Erica?”

“That cannot be true.”

“Did you actually read any of the paperwork you signed?”

“Sorry, are you telling me that you did?”

“Obviously? I mean, sure, maybe I missed something, since I’ve gotten a concussion literally every time this shit goes down, but I wasn’t going to sign something without reading it? Especially not since the last two times were, again, legally binding for me. That’s, like, the one useful piece of advice my dad has ever given me.”

“So I have a bunch of money lying around that no one told me about? What the fuck. Where is it?”

“You don’t get access to it until you turn eighteen, so parents who don’t know about—” He gestures vaguely around at the group, points at the ceiling then the ground, and then spreads his fingers wide, palm facing out. Which Eddie interprets as The sacrifices we give to our gods, committed in my basement. Single jazz hand. Roughly translated, of course. “—don’t get suspicious.”

Robin opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, Mike loudly declares, “The minister’s cat is an awesome cat.”

“What?” Eddie asks, frowning.

“Oh!” Lucas says. “The minister’s cat is a big cat.”

Dustin heckles him as Erica jumps in with, “The minister’s cat is a cute cat.”

“What the fuck,” Eddie mutters under his breath. Is this some sort of spell? A curse they’re casting on him? Maybe all of Harrington’s victims were actually just turned into cats for… some reason. And the caskets were just buried empty or with fake bodies inside. Though why Harrington’s cult would want to turn people into cats is a mystery.

Damn, he should’ve asked when Harrington got Carmilla. Maybe she’s actually Barb. If Eddie were suddenly turned into a cat, he’d definitely bite hard enough to draw blood.

Carmilla meows, horrifyingly following the pattern. Yeah, this is definitely the casting of a curse.

“Oh good choice, Keys,” Harrington coos.

Dustin says, “The minister’s cat is an eloquent cat.”

All eyes turn on Eddie expectantly, and he takes an instinctive step back. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

“You gotta pick a word that starts with f,” Dustin tells him.

“Fuck.”

Harrington snorts.

Eddie crosses his arms and glowers at him. “What? He said a word starting with f.”

“You have to describe the cat. Y’know, like, fancy or something. But not fancy because I just gave you that.”

“...Why?”

Harrington’s brows raise. “Because it’s the rules of the game?”

“You’ve never played The Minister’s Cat before?” Robin asks.

“Obviously not? What the fuck is The Minister’s Cat?” Eddie flails his arms to encompass this whole situation.

“It’s a Victorian parlor game,” Robin says. “Everyone goes through the alphabet and says an adjective for their letter. If you repeat a word someone said in a previous round or take too long to pick, you’re out.”

God, the Victorian era must’ve sucked if this is what they did for fun. Eddie lets out a sigh. “Ok, sure. The minister’s cat is a ferocious cat.”

“The minister’s cat is a glamorous cat,” Robin says.

They continue through the alphabet until:

“The minister’s cat is an excellent cat,” Harrington says, scooping Carmilla into his arms.

“That doesn’t start with x,” Eddie points out helpfully.

The impact of Harrington’s bitchy look is diminished by the cat purring like a motorboat in his arms. “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you think of an adjective starting with x.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my turn. And I failed senior year twice, so—” He cuts himself off, head whipping around as Robin starts honest-to-god bawking like a chicken. He tries to stare her down, but she just gets louder. He throws his hands up. “Ok, fine! The minister’s cat is a…”

Fuck. Are there any adjectives that start with x? All he can think of is various ex- words, which obviously don’t work. The smirk slowly growing on Harrington’s face is definitely not helping the situation. “Uh…”

Harrington practically oozes smugness as he says, “Yeah, not so easy is—”

“Xenophobic!” Eddie shouts. “The minister’s cat is a xenophobic cat!”

“Woah,” Robin protests, frowning at him.

“Gosh, Eddie,” Max says, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe you’d make the cat a bigot.”

“It starts with x!”

“Yeah, but you could’ve just gone with xanthic,” Dustin says. Eddie turns wide, probably manic eyes on him, and Dustin raises his hands in surrender. Still, he sullenly grumbles, “Just saying.”

“Yeah, you had other choices,” Lucas pitches in, grinning. “Pretty offensive to call someone’s cat bigoted, if you ask me.”

“It’s a fake cat!” Eddie shrieks, steam probably coming out of his ears at this point.

“Alright, shitheads,” Harrington interjects. He supports Carmilla as she clambers onto his shoulder, then makes a shooing motion at the kids, herding them towards the living room. “That’s enough tormenting Munson. Scram. Go entertain yourselves until dinner’s ready.”

“We didn’t even finish the round,” Dustin protests.

“Well, I’m out, so go finish it on your own.”

Max grabs Carmilla off Harrington’s shoulder. “The minister’s cat is a zesty cat. There. Round finished.”

Dustin huffs. “You’re all just being sore losers, ‘cause you know I’d win.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“Hey, Steve,” Mike says, “can I switch your depressing old music?”

Harrington frowns. “It’s not depressing—”

“I love you, but this song is literally named In the Bleak Midwinter,” Robin says, patting his shoulder.

“Whatever.” Harrington rolls his eyes and turns back to Mike. “You’ll have to ask Eddie. I said he could be in charge of music when he arrived, since he wasn’t happy with my choices.”

“You opened the door, and Last Christmas was playing. Wham! makes my ears bleed. Sorry for wanting to spare you that sight.” Eddie doesn’t even realize his mistake until Harrington turns on him, brows raised and a wide grin on his face.

“You recognized a Wham! song?” he asks, leaning closer.

Eddie takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest. “The radio’s played it constantly for the past two years. Obviously I’ve heard it. Against my will.”

He vaguely registers Mike saying his name, but he’s more focused on the way Harrington still looks way too excited about Eddie’s slip.

“Obviously,” Harrington agrees, taking a step forward. “But you—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!” Mike hollers.

“Christ,” Harrington breathes, just loud enough for Eddie to hear. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“El recommended this album because she likes the song about the bear, so everyone is going to listen to it and enjoy it,” he says, holding up a cassette.

“Or else,” Max adds, glaring directly at Eddie for some reason.

“El has never done anything wrong in her life—” Robin starts.

“And her taste is impeccable,” Harrington cuts in.

Robin nods. “So I’m sure we’ll all love it.”

The other kids chorus their agreement, which seems to mollify Mike somewhat. He still shoots everyone a dirty look as he starts the album, though.

Eddie waits until he’s sure the kids aren’t paying attention, then follows Harrington back into the kitchen. He keeps his voice low as he asks, “El? Mike’s California girlfriend? She’s real?”

“Yep.” Harrington glances over at him, lips quirking up. “Don’t tell me you thought Suzie was fake, too.”

“Dustin’s super genius girlfriend who he met at summer camp and lives in Utah?”

“Don’t forget that she’s hotter than Phoebe Cates.”

“Of course. Super genius and hotter than Phoebe Cates. Yeah, I definitely believed in her,” Eddie says, not very convincingly.

Harrington snorts. “Well, she’s real, too. I’ve talked to her a couple times. You should see the radio Dustin built with her. Kid calls it Cerebro.”

“Like from the comics?”

Harrington stares at him blankly. “Sure.”

“You know, Professor X, Charles Xavier—”

“Oh!” Harrington snaps his finger and grins. Then he raises his voice a bit and calls, “Hey, Dustin, Cerebro’s from the G.I. Joe comics, right?”

“You know it’s not, Steve!” Dustin howls.

Harrington’s grin grows even wider. “Hey, don’t blame me. I’m just repeating Eddie’s question.”

“Oh, you motherfucker,” Eddie hisses, mere seconds before Dustin appears in the doorway, tragic and waif-like.

“You don’t know about the X-Men?” he asks, lip full-on trembling, as if Eddie not knowing something nerdy is genuinely the worst thing that could ever happen to him. If the kid is a secret agent planning his brutal murder, he’s a remarkably good actor.

“No, obviously I know the X-Men. Harrington’s just messing with you.” He whips his head around to glare venomously at Harrington, expecting him to fold like his players always do in the face of his fury.

Harrington makes the most exaggerated Who, me? face Eddie’s ever seen, and Dustin infuriatingly falls for it. Unbelievable. The kid’s literally in a club that got its name from the Uncanny X-Men.

“We have to fix this. Right now,” he announces, attaching himself to Eddie’s arm like a limpet. “So, the first X-Men comic was published in—” Aaaand he’s off, monologuing at breakneck speed with, frankly, encyclopedic knowledge of the X-Men comics, as he drags Eddie from the room.

Eddie twists around and mouths, Screw you, at Harrington, who just grins and wiggles his fingers in a little wave.

————

Eddie finally manages to escape Dustin’s clutches and creeps out of the room. He bites back a curse as he nearly bumps into a cabinet right outside the door. Who the hell has a display of fancy plates right next to a doorway? That’s just asking for a disaster.

Eddie eyes the bowl of fruit on top of the cabinet warily.

It was definitely a mistake not to eat before coming, but he’d been so worked up, he probably wouldn’t have been able to keep anything down anyway. Is it safer to wait and eat the dinner that Harrington serves him? Or should he eat an apple and hope it tides him over (and that no one asks why he isn’t eating)? Harrington wouldn’t have poisoned fruit in a bowl that anyone could eat from, right? Besides, how would he even poison an apple? He’s not a witch (probably).

Eddie plucks an apple from the bowl, inspecting it carefully. There aren’t any blemishes, nothing that makes him think it was somehow tampered with.

Though if Harrington did manage to poison them without leaving any evidence, would it be all of them? Or just the top ones? Or—realizing that Eddie would obviously be suspicious of him—just the bottom ones?

Jesus H. Christ, he sounds like Vizzini. He should just eat it.

Before he can rethink his decision, Eddie closes his eyes and sinks his teeth into it. Now he just has to figure out how—

Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck is wrong with this apple?

How the hell is it so dry? And waxy? And— Wait.

Eddie freezes, eyes slowly falling to the apple in his hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Yeah, that’s definitely not a real apple.

He spits the lump of wax into his palm with a grimace. There’s no salvaging it, so he moves a few of the other apples out of the way and buries the evidence of his terrible choices. He carefully returns the other apples to the bowl, making sure that everything looks the same as before—thank God all the apples were the same color—and nods to himself. There. Now no one will ever know what happened here.

Honestly though, this is Harrington’s fault. Like, who actually owns wax fruit? Between this and the Victorian game, it’s like Eddie’s been transported back in time.

Oh, shit, is Harrington a vampire? Actually… Eddie honestly wouldn’t be that mad if he gets eaten by a vampire. That’d be a cool way to go. Cooler if Harrington didn't kill him and just kept him around for smaller periodic feedings, rather than a giant annual meal. That way, he could tell the boys. And there’s always tension between a vampire and their blood donor, so maybe—

“Smooth.”

Eddie yelps, whirling around to find Erica standing in the doorway. “Jesus Christ, how long have you been standing there?”

“Since you first picked up that apple.”

Well fuck. So much for nobody knowing.

“I bit it on purpose,” he tries. “I… eat wax sometimes?”

“Uh huh. If you like eating wax, why’d you spit it out instead of swallowing?”

Eddie will not make inappropriate jokes in front of a child. He won’t. He has a modicum of self control. “Ok, fine,” he says instead, shoulders slumping. “You caught me. What do you want? I should warn you that I’ve got, like, twenty cents to my name.”

“I don’t want your money,” Erica scoffs. “I have Steve for that.”

“So we’re good? You won’t tell anyone?” Eddie asks, cautiously hopeful. That seems too good to be true.

“I didn’t say that.” Her lips curl in an impish smile. This whole house is filled with demons.

“Are you going to tell me what you want, or—?”

“Dustin!” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Come here.”

Eddie bites back a scream.

“I’m a better DM than you,” Erica tells him, apropos of nothing.

Eddie blinks at her, entirely at a loss for how to respond because, like, he shouldn’t fight a child, right? Especially not one who’s blackmailing him. Even if she is unequivocally wrong. “Uh…”

“Just the facts,” she says, punctuating the statement with a loud pop of her gum. Jesus, is this toddler cooler than him? Granted, it’s not a high bar to clear and there are probably lots of children who are objectively cooler than him, but he’s never had to interact with them before. “Just ask Dustin. He said so himself.”

Now hold on. Eddie can’t in good conscience fight a middle schooler, but freshmen are absolutely fair game. He glares at Dustin the second he steps into the room and drops his voice to his patented villain growl, “You said Erica is a better DM than me?”

“That is not what I said!” Dustin cries, holding his hands up defensively. “She’s totally misrepresenting the situation!”

“No, I remember you saying that, too,” Max calls from the other room.

“No you didn’t because I never said that!” Dustin shouts back. “I was just talking about Scoops Troop and the Party. Nothing at all to do with Hellfire.” He turns back to Eddie with wide eyes, hands clasped in front of him. “You have to believe me.”

Eddie briefly entertains the idea of making him grovel more, but he’d rather figure out what Erica’s plotting. He points to the door. “Get out of my sight.”

Dustin opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it and scampers away.

Eddie turns back to Erica, raising a brow. “What exactly was the point of that?”

“Admit that I’m a better DM than you.”

“No,” he says immediately.

“I guess Steve will just have to hear what happened in here, then.”

“There must be something else. I’ll do whatever you want. Anything but that.”

Erica’s eyes light up. “You’re my personal servant for the night.”

“Fi—”

“And,” she says, holding up a finger, “you’re going to stop being shitty to Lucas because he likes basketball.”

Eddie splutters. He hasn’t been shitty. That’s absurd. What, she thinks that just because he doesn’t like sports or jocks that means— Oh. Hmm.

“Deal,” he sighs.

“I knew you’d make the smart choice.” She holds out her cup. “Now go get me more juice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Eddie catches the tail end of Robin’s sentence as he walks to the kitchen, her voice shrill: “—gross. Dingus, I am begging you to pick literally any other topic of conversation now.”

He presses his back to the wall right outside the kitchen, waiting to see if they’re talking about something incriminating.

“Fine,” Harrington grumbles. “So, how’re things going with—?”

“I’ve actually changed my mind. No more talking at all. I’m gonna stick my head inside the oven instead.”

“Oh, come on. Rob—” Whatever he says next is too low for Eddie to hear, but he catches Robin’s reluctant sigh, and then Harrington saying, “—and I mean, aside from certain unmentionable events, I’ve never really dabbled in anything like S&M, so—”

“I really don’t think torture counts, since it wasn't consensual or sexual... It wasn’t sexual, was it? Steve, you would’ve told me if—”

What the fuck? Harrington tortures people? God, Eddie thought that at least his murder would be quick.

“Jesus, Robin, obviously I—”

“Hey, nerd!” Erica snaps, drowning out Harrington’s voice. “You said you were going to get me more juice!”

Eddie bites back a rude comment because he did agree to be her servant, even if it’s inconvenient when he’s trying to eavesdrop. “Right away, Lady Erica.”

He steps into the kitchen. Harrington and Robin’s heads snap towards him in eerie unison. He offers them a weak smile, hoping that his face isn’t screaming the word torture, and holds Erica’s cup aloft.

“I’m on a perilous and harrowing quest.”

“That so?” Harrington asks, a grin tugging at his lips. “What is it?”

“I have to obtain more juice for Lady Erica.”

Harrington laughs and pulls the bottle out of the fridge, sliding it across the counter to him. Eddie almost doesn’t catch it—because he has bad coordination, not because he was distracted or anything. He’s not sure if Harrington noticed the fumble, but he doesn’t look up to check. He just has to pour a glass of juice without making a fool of himself. Easy-peasy.

“How’d you get roped into getting it for her?”

“Just following the code of chivalry,” Eddie says. He caps the bottle and slides it back—well, slides it part way across the counter. Good enough.

Harrington grabs the bottle and puts it back in the fridge. “Well dinner’s ready, so you can take it into the dining room. Robin can show you where Erica’s sitting.”

Great. Dinner.

This is going to be a disaster.

#steddie fic #stranger things fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things fanfiction #platonic stobin #the party #series: make the yuletide gay #my fic #my writing #my post #st fic #wip #my wips #not tagging the children individually but they Sure Are Here

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criesinliess · 2 years ago

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━SEPTEMBER 2022; susan's recs

MARVEL

━━BUCKY BARNES

the ring @irndad

━━PIETRO MAXIMOFF

euphoria @pietropatrol

━━LOKI LAUFEYSON

feel something @heliads

SPIDER-MAN

━━ANDREW!PETER PARKER

no words needed @genesisrose74

TOP GUN: MAVERICK

━━BRADLEY 'ROOSTER' BRADSHAW

webb of unfortunate events @ohtobeleah

MARAUDER'S ERA

━━SIRIUS BLACK

grand sheme @fishley

chemistry @violetrainbow412-blog

birthday; part 2 @↑

camp @↑

friday, i'm in love @↑

GRISHAVERSE

━━KAZ BREKKER

delusional @fishley

all’s good @magpiencrow

graphology @syllvane

━━MATTHIAS HELVAR

temptress @magpiencrow

fire and ice @↑

━━JESPER FAHEY

not what it looks like @magpiencrow

shut up @↑

━━NIKOLAI LANTSOV

princess @magpiencrow

i’m sorry @↑

crestfallen — masterlist @↑

THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY

━━CONRAD FISHER

finally @mentally-in-northern-italy

ZOMBIES

━━WYATT LYKENSEN

chess @heliads

STRANGER THINGS

━━STEVE HARRINGTON

steve takes care of his drunk gf @lurkymurker

DIVERGENT

━━PETER HAYES

us against the world @heliads

safe with you @↑

TEEN WOLF

━━THEO RAEKEN

what to do @heliads

━━BRETT TALBOT

the cheerleader and the lacrosse player @heliads

at the café @↑

the bite @↑

OUTER BANKS

━━RAFE CAMERON

simp for you @destourtereaux

━━TOPPER THORNTON

stealing kisses @toriswrites

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carolmunson · 2 years ago

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vacation diaries - entry seven (final)

eddie keeps a journal while at the inn with you in northern indiana. a blurb series starting from the first morning after ’before there was a before’.

entries: one,two,three,four,five,six read steve’s journal: here. ‘hear’ the phonecall: here.

warnings: minors dni, 18+, adult themes

we're going home tomorrow morning and i'm nervous. she's sleeping and she looks so peaceful. she's so pretty without even trying. mouth open, drooling, hair everywhere. i wish i could take a picture.

speaking of pictures. we went to go pick up our photos from where we got our film developed when we went to the beach. or rather the 'seven wonders of northern indiana'. we swapped to look at what we saw. and she laughed at mine. i told her i only took pictures of the most beautiful things i could see.

she asked why they were all pictures of her.

she knows why.

there's one of us kissing that she took and it's gonna live in my dashboard for the rest of my life. she'd be a great photographer if she put her mind to it. it's crazy how many things she's good at.

she finally learned how to play chess. she didn't beat me though. the old folks let her win, i think.

i told her this morning over breakfast how i felt like maybe i just liked winning. she said maybe that's true. but if it was, i wouldn't have taken her to the spa or to go look at lights. i wouldn't have brought her to the same diner for good food or brought her to look at lights. if i didn't love her, i wouldn't have taken her away so she could actually rest.

maybe she's right.

not maybe. she's always right. she knows she's always right.

i just got off the phone with steve. he sounds exhausted but he's happy that she agreed to come back to the house. ecstatic even. he needs to get some sleep. he sounds really determined though. to get better. to be better. and part of me is nervous, deep down, that his best is better than mine. who can compete with harrington at his very best? king steve.

king steve who might get a really good job and make more money. be busy being successful so he doesn't have this inferiority complex feeding how angry he is. king steve who wears suits to work and picks her up from bill's firm because their days end at the same time. king steve who got his shit together and goes to see a shrink and all of a sudden he's the hottest guy in the world AND emotionally intelligent. how am i supposedd to compete with that?

i'm afraid i'm gonna fall to the wayside.

i know we're a trio but, where do i fit? she held my hand all day today. i hope she still does when we're back in hawkins. -ed

#the steddieverse #vacation diaries

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wickeddruig · 2 years ago

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Secretly Dating

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the two of you are secretly dating because you’re embarrassed of each other. aka inspired by logan and quinn from zoey 101 or normal people idk whichever you prefer dude

warnings: unedited, jealousy, angst, f!receiving

you had a rule that the two of you didn’t talk at school. you didn’t look at each other at school and if you crossed paths you don’t say hi. you had plenty of rules. you don’t go on dates anywhere in hawkins unless it was at the kissing lake during night. your parent didn’t know that two of you were dating and you just said that you were tutoring him.

there were many more rules, you’d be here all day if you listed them. the plan was that if you lasted until graduation you two would come towards with your relationship over summer. the two of you had 6 more months of school and it seemed like you two might really last. this was an agreement that the both of you came up with. this isn’t something that steve came up with on his own.

you two were embarrassed of each other and that’s okay, it was just high school. you two were in totally different cliques. you were the nerd and the captain of the debate team and chess club. steve harrington was on the basketball team and the swim team. you two simply just shouldn’t be together, it would ruin both of your reputations.

you were talking to a fellow member on the debate team, connor. you had a meeting tonight and he was on your team so the both of you were comparing notes. you were going over strategies. connor was more your type. he was nerdy and cute, you let your mind wonder on what it would be like to date him instead of steve, you loved steve and would never cheat on him.

you just wondered what it would be like to date someone you could be seen with. what it would be like to date in hawkins. you had never dated anyone before steve so you didn’t know what it was like to go to the movies with someone or go out to dinner. all you knew was the makeout rock and sneakily watching movies in your room at night.

you were laughing at something conner said when you heard a voice coming behind you. you knew it was steve but you did your best not to look back at him, he was laughing really hard at something one of his friends had said. he walked right past you as if he didn’t even know you.

“god, if he laughs any harder his hair might flatten” connor said when steve was still in ear shot, you snickered and steve looked back at you, making direct eye contact. you cleared your throat and looked away.

you went back to your conversation with conner, you were showing him some notes you had at your locker and you felt eyes on you at the end of the hallway. you wanted to look up but you knew that wasn’t a good idea. why was steve staring at you? the no eye contact rule was his idea anyways. sure you agreed to the rules and had your own but the eye contact one was his specifically so why not follow it.

you were feeling uncomfortable in the way your boyfriend was looking at you. it wasn’t in a creepy way at all but he had never looked at you like that. it was filled with lust and anger at the same time. there wasn’t really a reason for him to ever look like that, it’s not like guys flirted with you. you’re the one that’s usually jealous, girls threw themselves at steve all the time. but you controlled yourself perfectly when that happened and he’s expected to do the same.

—

you laid on your bed, laying on the bed as the tv played and you were looking at some of the magazines you had. they were filled with celebrity drama and cute celebrity boys you had a crush on. your phone was ringing off the hook all night but you ignored it. it was probably your friends plus your mom told you that whoever kept calling would hang up as soon as she answered.

so it definitely wasn’t anything important. you were giggling to yourself at one of the articles it had when you suddenly heard something at your window. you placed your magazine down and slowly walked to your window. you peaked out your curtains to see steve standing there. you rolled your eyes and opened the window. steve climbed through your window. out of all your years of dating thee steve harrington never climbed through your window you would usually have to sneak him in.

“you weren’t answering the phone” steve immediately said as he adjusted himself in your room. taking off his shows as he usually did.

“well hello to you too” you said, he usually wasn’t this abrasive.

“your phone? why weren’t you answering?” steve answered almost in an ordering tone. it was sort of turning you on which you weren’t expecting.

“i didn’t know you were calling, we aren’t supposed to call each other remember” you said looking up at him “the rules?”

“right, the stupid fucking rules” he huffed, he went over to the edge of your bed “how was your conversation with that dickwad from earlier”

you were confused at first but then it clicked for you. you were so smart yet so dumb. the answer was right in front of you.

“you’re jealous” you said

“of course i’m jealous y/n some asshole gets to make you laugh in the hallway like that and we can’t even look at each other” steve replied. you were standing up in front on him while he said on the edge.

“but those are the rules we came up with and agreed to steve” you said

“i hate them, i want to walk through your front door so i can meet your parents, i want to walk into school together and show everyone who you belong to and i want to take you on a real date dammit” steve said

you had never been more happier, you wanted all those things too but you didn’t know how realistic that was. what would everyone think of you both together?

“what about everyone at school?” you asked looking into his eyes

“i don’t care about school y/n, we’re out of there in school, everyone can know about us. i just want to show you off” he stood up and took your face in his hands, laying his forehead against yours “let me show you off”

you thought about it for a second and you’d rather lose your reputation instead of losing him “okay”

“my fucking girl” he picked you up and spun you around. he put you down and threw you on the bed “now let me show you how much i appreciate you”

you bit your lip and nodded, he unzipped your pants and pulled them down to your ankles then took them all the way. he looked up at you as he placed himself between your thighs. he placed his hands on his hips and licked his lips before removing one of his hands from your hips so he could pull your panties to the side.

he started to lick your clit, taking his pointer and middle finger and sliding it inside of you. he moved his other hand from your hip and took his thumb, placing it on the entrance of your asshole. you were arching your back and biting your lip so you didn’t moan too loud. you placed one hand in his hair and pulled on it.

“so fucking tasty angel” he mumbled as his tongue lapped over your clit “taste”

he took his fingers from inside of you and placed them inside of your mouth. forcing them down your throat, making you gag as you coated his fingers with spit. he removed his fingers from your mouth and moved his from your clit. he started to rub your clit with his wet fingers and he started to fuck your hole with his tongue as you grinder on him.

you wrapped your legs around his shoulders and squeezed your legs together, trapping his face. you were about to come but couldn’t even warn him. you just let out a loud whimper through your bit lips while arching your back and came all over his face.

“my favorite meal” steve said sitting up and placing his lips against yours, making you taste yourself he slid his tongue inside your mouth. he then pulled away and looked down at you “now everyone will know who you belong to”

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things one shot #steve harrington one shot

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jokenotfunny · 2 years ago

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fighting words pt. 1

eddie x platonic! experiment! reader + steve x platonic!experiment! reader

instead of sev using her powers on the people that wrong her, she just starts beating their asses. sometimes

the in-betweens series :

takes place between seasons 2 and 3 before season 3

age 14 ; december 19, 1984 (so steve is still a senior and sev is still in middle school)

a/n : also no eddie in this chapter but he will be in the next one !

- steve's life was going great.

- well everyone's life was going great, it was christmas break after all.

- but steve's life specifically was going really great!

- he didn't have to be in school for two weeks, mr. harrington was stuck three states over due to severe weather conditions and would likely not be home until christmas eve, and he didn't have to see nancy and jonathan all cozied up at school if he was in the comfort of his own house!

- and! his mom was home! downstairs making his favorite seasonal lunch while his grandparents (visiting for the holidays) were in the living room watching outdated christmas movies.

- so yeah. steve was having a pretty damn good christmas break so far.

- but wait- "where's sev?" he sat up abruptly in his bed remembering that you were no longer also watching out dated christmas movies with your grandparents

- he quickly relaxed when he remembered how a few hours ago you ran into his room adorned in your favorite winter coat, a hat and matching gloves, and some fancy boots mrs. harrington had bought you to match her own, with lucas and max in tow (when did they get there?) telling him you'd see him later.

- claiming that you guys were going into town with the others because mike and will found a, quote dustin, "big ass hill for sledding"

- so after a scolding from dustin over your walkie to hurry your asses, because apparently he along with mike and will were outside waiting for you, you all left.

- leaving steve to himself in the comfort of his bed, on this wonderful snowy afternoon.

- he was in such a good mood actually, that he even promised to take you all to the drive-in for some new christmas movie coming out.

- he'd probably come to regret it later when he realized how much money he'd have to spend on all of you but for now in his relaxed, blissful state, he couldn't come to care.

- his large bubble of peace being popped however, when he heard his grandmother hollering for him to come downstairs.

"what's wrong gram?" he asked confusedly, when he was met with her standing at the bottom of the stairs, phone in hand with her arms crossed.

"the chief of police is asking to speak with you, are you involved with gang violence?" she asked in a concerned yet stern tone.

- steve had to restrain himself from laughing at his grandmother's constant concern of gang violence

"no grandma, hopper usually calls to check in about y/n," he calmed her as he took the phone from her and gently nudged her back towards the dining room where his mother was waiting to continue their chess game. "and hawkins isn't like chicago mom, there are no gangs." he heard his mom joke to her, before turning his attention to the phone.

"hey, hop what's up?" he chirped leaning against the wall.

"yeah, no time for casualties harrington, i need you and your parents up here." hopper grumbled in that way, that you know he's pinching his nose in frustration.

" it's just my mom and grandparents, but why?"

"because your sister beat the dog-shit out of this boy and his mother's threatening to sue." he seethed on the other end of the phone.

and that's how steve found himself quickly parking his car behind his mother's and walking through the doors of the police station confusedly trailing behind her seething self , the clacking of her heels echoing through the building..

- they both walked into to see you being verbally torn apart by some woman standing over you, who steve deducted to be the boy in question's mother, while hopper was too busy going back and forth with the boy's father to stop her.

- you didn't seem to phased by the woman's screaming or her proximity however, as you just blankly stared at the woman.

"hey! what the hell do you think you're doing screaming in my daughter's face like that!" screamed mrs. harrington, who marched between you and the woman,

"oh i should've known this she-devil was your child." the woman seethed.

- steve, who decided to stay out of his mother's way, quickly spotted the other kids and went over to them, not missing the ice pack mike was holding to his head.

"henderson, the hell happened man?"

"oh steve, it was amazing you should've been there!"

- everyone began talking at once.

- and it was truly a mess

will was explaining what happened urgently

dustin was animatedly acting out the action of someone falling? or flying steve couldn't tell.

max and lucas were seemingly acting out the part where you were beating up the kid

and mike was angrily ranting about his head injury and gesturing towards a kid who steve hadn't noticed before now, that was sitting across from them looking- well. terrible.

- both of the kids eyes were black, his nose was huge and purple and his lips were swollen.

"okay, alright, before you all tell me- properly and one at a time,"he pointed at them sternly. " she didn't.. you know..." he looked around before wiggling his fingers in the air, looking a them knowingly.

"no and that's what made it even cooler!" dustin emphasized before telling the story.

your pov : flashback to an hour ago at the hill

- you and the others were having the time of your lives

you and mike were racing max and lucas going down the hill on your sleds while will and rob (who i still haven't properly introduced other than his crush on sev i'm sorry 😭🤫🤫!!) were throwing snowballs at you guys on your way down.

- you had noticed a few other kids showed up, but didn't pay any mind to them

- you and max were making your way back up the hill, with mike farther up the hill then you guys when it happened

- one of the new kids who showed up had stopped to talk to mike, and it would have looked like casual conversation if you didn't know mike as well as you did

- his shoulders were tense, he was stepping back from the kid so slowly that the kid didn't notice, nor did mike notice how close to the beginning of the hill he was.

- and then it happened

- the kid shoved mike so hard he tripped backwards and started rolling down the hill

- you would have laughed if he had just fell on his own, but the fact is you had seen this other boy at school before, seen him making fun of mike. you asked mike if he wanted you to deal with him, but he said, and quote, "i can fight my own battles." where you just rolled your eyes with a scoff.

- while your friends all ran up to mike to see if he was okay, you continued your trek up the hill, now with a vengeful march going to confront the kid.

- before you made it to him however you glanced back at your friends and found them huddling over him, while he held his head and blood rand down the side of it. as nice as the snow made hill look, underneath still lied the elements of nature and mike hit his head on a rock on the way down.

- and from there it was honestly a blur for you, you remembered getting to the boy and shoving him to the ground, then punching him in the nose, then next thing you know you were being driven to the sheriff's department, and some woman came in and started yelling at you.

and now back to the present with your mother arguing with the woman

"we have christmas pictures tomorrow, how the hell am i supposed to let him take them like that?!" the boy's mother screeched.

"oh fuck your christmas pictures! your son assaulted a boy and could have killed him and that's what you care about?!" your mother exclaimed. " you should be happy mrs. wheeler isn't pressing charges!" she gestured to mrs. wheeler who came out of the office to fuss over mike's head once again.

"we aren't pressing charges.." the boy's father interjected sternly

"what?! this girl, mangled our son's face, and you don't want to press charges?"

"sue, he's gotten to big for his britches and needed a life lesson. he gets away with so much shit and no consequences because of you, and he needed a reality check." he exclaimed glaring at his son and wife before turning to mrs. wheeler and mrs. harrington.

"i'm so sorry about this whole situation, my boy should have never put his hands on yours, and i'm happy your daughter put my boy in his place. this won't happen again." he said pleadingly.

"the cut's not too big, it's just a little scratch so michael should be fine." mrs. wheeler sighed sharing an understanding look with your mom.

" alright then, is it fine for the rest of us to leave hopper?" your mother asked, as the boy you got into it with's family left the station, quietly arguing about the decision made.

"i don't care." he said waving his hand flippantly. "i don't want to see you in here again harrington." he sternly pointed at you, making you nod, before walking back into his office.

- everyine started making their way to the doors, minus your mom and brother, the last thing you three heard before your friends left the building was-

"son of a bitch, i wanted mrs. harrington to kick that lady with her pointy heels."

- she laughed as she started to gently guide you out of the building.

"you are't angry?" you asked confusedly, at the calm look on her face.

"of course not honey, you defended your friend when he couldn't defend himself, and for that i'm very proud of you." she smiled, not paying attention to the look on your face at the reference to mike being your "friend". "and that bitch sue arlington needed another reality check that my kids are better than hers anyways." she flipped her hair, before walking ahead of you and steve and getting to the car, while she glared at the woman from across the parking lot.

- before steve could even think of what to say, you had started to speak.

"i'm sorry. "he raised his eyebrows confusedly "i know that i'm not supposed to hurt people...but he hurt mike. and then there was blood and i didn't realize what i was doing until it was already done, and-"

"sev, sev calm down it's okay." he calmed you down. "it's like what mom said, you were just defending mike from a bully, nobody's mad at you." steve said.

"that lady was, she yelled at me." you said, as you two looked over at the family that was still in the parking lot.

- the two parents, sue and allen, bickering while the son looked over at you in fear as you glared at him.

"ah screw 'em. they suck anyway." he waved them off, before looking over to the pitiful pouts on you and your friends faces because of the day being ruined. "hey you go stand with them, i'll be right back 'kay?" he sighed before walking towards your mother's car and speaking to her through the window.

"so what happened? are you in trouble? are we in trouble? we didn't even do anything why would we be in trouble?" a bunch of overlapping voices asked once you walked over. you simply shook your head looking over to where your brother was having a conversation with you two's mother.

"no, none of us are in trouble, he just told me to wait here with you guys..." you trailed off as steve jogged over, your mom waving at you guys as she pulled out of the parking lot.

"do any of your parents know about what happened an hour ago?" he asked off-handedly.

"hopper said he was going to call them but i think he got distracted by your mom almost beating that lady up." dustin shrugged.

"but i'm sure they'll know before the end of the day because my mom loves to gossip." mike rolled his eyes., the rest of them groaning in agreement.

"okay well, before you guys have to face the eventual music... you still wanna see that movie at the drive-in?" he asked, chuckling to himself at the quick change of mood in the kids, as you all piled into his car, excitedly chattering about the movie. if he noticed the silent conversation and mouth of a "thank you" from mike and a silent "anytime" from you, he didn't mention it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: that took me TOO long. also i’m not on hiatus i promise. just between school and work i have no time to do ANYTHING.

a/n 2: also a rare mikesev moment that’s not them at each other’s throats???? crazy ik

taglist : @tuffluuhv @reasontobebeautiful @sadbitchfangirl @ohthatsalittlegay @uselessbutinteresting @creativedogs @howlerwolfmax @kik51199 @spookyscarydinosaur @kenzi-woycehoski

@peachycupotea

#steve harrington x platonic! reader #eddie munson x platonic!reader #stanger things #eddie munson x poc reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve’s not an only child anymore 🤭#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

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nymime · 1 year ago

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Master-list (i guess)

Most center on Steve Harrington.

HEADCANONS

Steve Cat’s , Steve’s Cat 2, Steve’s Cat 3. Steve Chinchilla.

Steve’s ducks

Ed and Lorraine Warren as Steve’s parents.

Steve being good a Home Ec

Dyslexic Steve

Hyper Mobility Steve

Chess Steve

Latin Steve

Rollerblading Steve

Incorrect quotes

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Random Thoughts, AU’s, Etc.

Stevie Harrington with older brothers.

Angsty Fic Idea

Stevie Harrington

Killer Stevie Harrington

Steve’s Mom

Nonna Lina

Steve knows vocaloid

Blind Steve

Steve as Anastasia Romanoff

Stommy as Kids

Steddie, Au, Au2

Steve in Genshin

Ficlets (I guess)

Steve as Kevin (Home Alone)

Last Birthday

Ophthalmologist visit

Steve Find Bumblebee!

First Gay experience

Don’t Cry

Steve’s Song

Sad Thoughts

Picky Eater Steve

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uglypastels · 2 years ago

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Eddie Munson Headcanons: Game Night

Eddie loves to play games. He likes the strategic chaos that ensues once the dice start to roll. Of course, he is Hawkins’ mighty Dungeon Master, barely anyone could compete with his skills over that, but he likes any games.

Especially, since, aside from Dustin, Mike and Lucas, the gang does not seem to be very keen on being indoctrinated into the cult of D&D, game nights like this bring them all together in one way or another.

Oh, yes, Game Night. Let Eddie take care of it all.

Location: whether he likes it or not, Harrington is giving up his mansion for the evening. Let him take care of the snacks and drinks too (Eddie has prepared a list, accommodating to everyone’s needs, wants, requests and demands).

But that’s not as important. What is, of course, are the games.

Overall Eddie can play pretty much anything.

He’s not really a sore loser or winner. It depends on what game and who he is up against. If he loses, he needs it to have been a fair and square game, but he does always look for loopholes in the rule books.

If someone else is accused of cheating, or any chance of drama is emerging, he for sure would go along, just to see his friends fight it out while he sits back and develops 5 different strategies in his mind to win.

(I feel like he would be really good at chess, but just finds it too boring and doesn’t bother playing it. But maybe sometimes, on rainy evenings, when he and Wayne are bored, they set up the pieces and enjoy a night in).

Eddie plays as the boot in Monopoly.

He’s been playing card games since the ripe age of 13; poker, blackjack, all those games that no 13-year-old should know how to play.

So, of course, he teaches the younglings. Maybe during lunch period, so he doesn’t actually have to admit to Steve that he was the one to teach Dustin. The boys would just sit down one say and be ready to fight, leaving Steve, Nancy and Robin completely stunned.

‘I swear, man I have no idea how they know how to do this shit.’

They would of course be playing with candy, like M&M's, smarties and other stuff like that.

If they were to play Operation, it would be a demand of Eddie for the room to be completely quiet. Everyone would stare at him, and at the smallest of sounds– a sneeze or too loud breathing– Eddie would glare over at the person.

Same with Jenga.

For Clue, he pulls out all his dramatics, tries to narrate the game as it goes on, making accusations left and right, gasping at the smallest of developments. Everyone would tell him to shut up and just roll his dice, but never actually meant it.

These dramatic antics flow over into the Game of Life. Poor Eddie would get so attached to his little cube children, giving them all names and ambitions and whatnot.

A game no one expected him to do this well in– Trivial Pursuit. Eddie seems to know every answer to everything.

He stashes his own weed and money in the Candyland box underneath his bed. Everyone knows about it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #stranger things headcanon #stranger things hc #stranger things #headcanons #hc #blurb #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #imagine #fluff

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ofswannsx · 2 years ago

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𝚃𝙰𝚂𝙺 𝟸𝟻; 𝙽𝙴𝚇𝚃 𝙶𝙴𝙽.

CASPIAN MCQUEEN.

when they say like father like son they were talking about caspian mcqueen. caspian, like his dad in his younger years, is an absolute menace. he’s a troubled kid to his core. not because of his parents’ divorce or middle kid syndrome, but because of his powers. for year he spent time running away from his problems, only to cause problems in the long run. he’s now learning that facing them head on the bravest ( and smartest ) thing he can do. when he’s not playing with the band you’ll find him out at sea with the love of his life, hallie.

INSPIRED BY : danny fenton / phantom ( danny phantom ) , percy jackson ( percy jackson ) , leonardo ( rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles ) , shawn hunter ( boy meets world ) , stiles stilinski ( teen wolf ) , steve harrington ( stranger things ) , klaus hargreeves ( the umbrella academy ) , denki kamanari ( my hero academia )

𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻

BIRTH NAME. caspian sawyer mcqueen NICKNAMES. cas DATE OF BIRTH. may 27. AGE. twenty-six. GENDER. cis male. PRONOUNS. he/him SPECIES. human. POWERS. ability to speak to and see ghosts. full powers here. SEXUALITY. bisexual PLACE OF BIRTH. elias, california. CURRENT RESIDENCE. elias, california. OCCUPATION. bass player for paradise on the horizon

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴

HEIGHT. 5'9" BUILD. toned. HAIR COLOUR/STYLE. brunette and curly when it grows out. EYE COLOUR. blue. PIERCINGS. right ear. he wears a little sword earring. TATTOOS. x. NOTABLE MARKINGS. white streak in his hair he gained from dying and coming back to life. GLASSES/CONTACTS ? neither. FACECLAIM. brandon flynn. VOICECLAIM. brandon flynn with like a slight british dialect. ( X )

𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙻𝚃𝙷

PHYSICAL AILMENTS. none. ALLERGIES. none. SLEEPING HABITS. his sleeping habits are terrible. EXERCISE HABITS. he surfs, boxes, swims and skateboards. EMOTIONAL STABILITY. 6/10. BODY TEMPERATURE. he’s ice cold. DOMINANT HAND. right. DRUGS / SMOKE / ALCOHOL ? no / weed / yes

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈

POSITIVE TRAITS. witty, funny, compassionate, laid-back, passionate NEGATIVE TRAITS. refuses to take things seriously, immature, sarcastic, easily checks out. USUAL MOOD. energized. LIKES. sharks, skateboarding, gummy snacks, giving dante gray hair, being out at sea, his mother’s adventure stories, pirates, surfing with his dad, making pasta with mama and then eating it, nail polish, pirates, traveling with hallie, jam sessions with the band, swords DISLIKES. feeling uncomfortable in any sense, disappointing the people he loves, when dante humbles him, when nina reads his mind, being lectured, having to be a big brother ( that’s what dante’s for ), living in his father’s and brother’s shadow, sunburns, when ghosts bother him at inconvenient times, ectoplasm episodes BAD HABITS. going awol without telling anyone, being inconsiderate of others feelings, not dealing with problems, doesn’t apply himself

𝚁𝙴𝙻𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙿𝚂

MOTHER. elizabeth swann, step mom fran bernoulli FATHER. montgomery mcqueen SIBLINGS. dante, elise, nina, athena, stefan, enzo & serafina mcqueen CHILDREN. none. BIRTH ORDER. third of too many kids // first child of monty & lizzie. SIGNIFICANT OTHER. hallie santucci, partner in holy matrimony CLOSEST FRIENDS. percy hawkins, flynn fitzherbert, katrina skellington, sofia paguro-scrofano, this could be you !

𝚃𝙴𝚂𝚃𝚂

ZODIAC SIGN. gemini. MBTI. entp TEMPERAMENT. sagninue-melanholic. HOGWARTS HOUSE. gryffindor. MORAL ALIGNMENT. chaotic good.

𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝚂 & 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚂

LANGUAGES SPOKEN. english, italian & spanish. DRIVE ? yes, speed he is speed. JUMP START A CAR ? yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE ? yes. RIDE A BICYCLE ? yes .... but motorcycles are cooler don’t tell his dad. SWIM ? yes, are you joking me he lives in the ocean basically. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT ? yes, it’s like his profession. PLAY CHESS ? no. BRAID HAIR ? yes, his sisters forced him to. TIE A TIE ? yes. PICK A LOCK ? yes. SEW ? no.

COMPASSION. 8/10.

EMPATHY. 7/10.

CREATIVITY. 7/10.

MENTAL FLEXIBILITY. 6/10.

PASSION. 10/10.

LUCK. 5/10.

MOTIVATION. 5/10.

EDUCATION. 10/10.

INTELLIGENCE. 7/10.

CHARISMA. 9/10.

REFLEXES. 7/10.

WILLPOWER. 5/10.

STAMINA. 8/10.

PHYSICAL STRENGTH. 7/10.

BATTLE SKILL. 5/10.

INITIATIVE. 5/10.

RESTRAINT. 5/10.

STRATEGY. 4/10.

TEAM WORK. 5/10.

( PINTEREST, HIS TAG, PLAYLIST. )

#watask #* .・ i think i am a better ghost than i am a human being » caspian.#my favorite menace

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ladykailitha · 2 years ago

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Ser Stephan of Harring’s Town Part 6

Tag List cap is 20 (which there are still a few slots)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Steve was having a shit day. He had spent the morning with a migraine and had to tell Dustin and Will to find another ride to the arcade. Which Dustin promptly made worse by his screaming.

He had finally gotten the brightness of the world to turn the fuck down so that he could actually see when he found out he was out of his contacts. Which meant glasses.

He went downstairs to make him some peppermint tea to ease his nausea and found that he was out of that, too. He opened the freezer and stuck his head inside hoping to find some kind of relief inside. But the cold only served to lance the pain further into his head and fog his glasses.

He sighed and closed the freezer door softly. Here in his parents’ house there was no middle ground. It was either dark or too bright for his eyes. He sighed. He knew there was a place that he could go that would be perfect. Low lighting, warm, comforting.

Steve lifted his glasses and pinched his nose. He really, really wanted to go. To be free of this hell that was his parents’ house. Fuck it. He dashed up to his bedroom and grabbed the sunglasses that were prescription. He down the stairs and out the door in flash, before he could talk himself out of going.

He needed comfort and he was going to go to his favorite source. He swapped his glasses and pulled out the drive, like hell itself was on his heels.

He pulled up to the trailer and cursed. The van wasn’t there, but the truck was.

Fuck.

He couldn’t drive back, the pain was too much, but he couldn’t sit out here in his car either. He was just going to have to brave the bear in his den.

Steve knocked on the door.

“Come in!” the gruff voice answered.

Steve let himself in and stopped at the sight in front of him. Wayne was at a chess board with a newspaper opened next to him and the board looked as though it was several moves in.

Wayne looked up and smiled. “Hey, Steve. Eddie went out but will be back in a bit if you wanted to wait.”

Steve nodded. He could already feel the stress of being in that house slip from his shoulders and the pain ebb with it. He walked up to the chess board and looked down at the pieces.

“What’s this then?” he asked.

“The newspaper prints an easy and a master chess board and you have to solve the next move,” Wayne explained. “I can usually solve with just the paper, but this was stumping me.”

Steve picked up the bishop and moved it.

Wayne looked down at the board and then back at the paper that held the answer.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he whistled. “You know how to play, son?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s a war game. Something I am unfortunately well-versed in.”

Wayne grimaced. He had been ‘read in’ regarding the actual hell hole that was this shit town. People might call their home towns that, but only Hawkins was the real deal.

“Who taught you?” he asked before the silence stretched too long.

“My friend, Dustin,” Steve said, moving to sit on the other side of the board. “I think he was trying to teach me as a joke after the first time. Like ‘here’s a game about tactics you could do this!’ type deal. But I found that not only did I enjoy it, I’m really good at it.” He grinned. “He won’t play me anymore because I beat him every time.”

Wayne returned his grin. “Rack up, boy. Show me what you’ve got.”

When Eddie came home about an hour later he repeated Steve’s earlier move of coming to a complete standstill at the sight in front of him.

There was Steve Harrington bent over a chessboard with his uncle and judging from what little Eddie knew the game was actually holding his own against him.

“Steve!”

Steve looked up and smiled. Eddie felt pierced to the soul. Steve was wearing glasses and it was hot.

“Your boy is pretty good,” Wayne said. “We’re having a tie breaker game.”

Eddie’s brain went offline for the briefest moment. “Doth mine ear deceive me or doth my uncle just sayeth that he hath been defeated?”

“Once!” Wayne growled holding up a finger.

“And I think it’s going to be about twice,” Steve said with a grin. He moved his piece. “Check and mate.”

Eddie ran over to the board and stared down at it. Both Munson men looked over at Steve in shock.

Wayne held out his hand. “Good game, son. It’s been awhile since I’ve had anyone beat me.”

Steve shook it. “Same.”

“You are more than welcome to come by anytime and play a couple of rounds,” Wayne said.

Steve looked up at Eddie for permission. “You know you’re welcome here anytime, Stevie, and it’s his trailer, not mine. So if he says you can come by. You come by, you hear?”

Steve grinned. “It would be an honor, sir.”

Wayne smiled warmly. “Just Wayne will do.”

“So to what do I owe this visit, Stevie?” Eddie asked.

“Huh?” Steve asked and then snapped his fingers. “I came over because I had a migraine.”

Eddie boggled.

Wayne blinked at him, stunned. “You mean to tell me that you beat me twice with a migraine?”

Steve looked over at him and blushed. “Well, most of one, anyway.”

Wayne turned to Eddie. “I take it back. I didn’t win anything, if he had been pain free, I would have lost all three times.”

“I’m nearsighted, so it doesn’t really hurt to look at a chessboard,” Steve defended.

“Uh huh,” Wayne said warily. “You come over without that brain of yours trying to do you in and we’ll see how good a player you really are.”

“Yes, Wayne,” Steve said.

“Come on, Steve,” Eddie said, “you can lie on my head and rest that big brain of yours.”

Steve stood up and followed Eddie into the bedroom.

He laid down and curled up under the blankets.

“Is it pretty bad?” Eddie asked.

Steve shrugged. “It comes and goes in waves. Your uncle beat me fair.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” He began threading his fingers through Steve’s hair.

Steve hummed. “That feels good.”

Eddie smiled and began to massage Steve’s head.

“Is why I came here,” Steve mumbled. “Always felt comfortable here. Knew the pain would go away faster than at home.”

Eddie almost stopped what he was doing as his brain tried to fill in blanks that weren’t there. He continued to card his fingers through Steve’s silky locks. “So soft.”

Steve reached up and touched the bottom of Eddie’s curls. “I like your hair, too.”

Eddie smiled. “I like that you feel comfortable here.”

Steve let his hand drift down Eddie’s arm to rest on his knee. “I like you.”

Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but it was too late. Steve had fallen asleep.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to Steve’s temple. “I love you.”

Part 7

Tag List: @mightbeasleep @goblin-eddie @gregre369 @idea-less-author @xtkxkrzrizir @azure-and-gold @flanbott @garden-of-gay @tauntedperfume @marvelousforlife @itsfreakingbats

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #dnd #steve's hidden talents #ladykailtiha writes

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missroserose · 4 years ago

Text

the neon light's on me tonight

part 1 | part 2

or read on AO3

here I am, back on this bullshit again. it's like y'all's enthusiasm is addictive, or something. <3

And yes, three chapters means it's playlist time.

(Thanks as always to @anarchist-billy for being the best beta. <3)

The January nighttime air is a shock, whiskey vapors and cigarette smoke and beer fumes cleared from Billy’s lungs in one bracing breath. Something about the cold is soothingly familiar—it mirrors the gnawing emptiness deep in his gut, soothes the constant itch beneath his skin. He takes another lungful, can practically feel the ice crystals forming inside his lungs.

Billy’s not drunk, not really—though not for lack of trying. He shotgunned each beer and downed every shot somebody bought him, but the buzzing is still there, energy scrabbling in circles like the lyrics of that Ratt song playing on the bar’s jukebox. Between that and the icy fingers that creep under his collar and inside the corners of his leather jacket, what little comforting haze had dropped between him and the world is cleared away within moments.

Still. It’ll be better soon enough. He struts out the door, boots crunching on the gravel, gives an extra little swing to his hips for the sake of the man following him. The weather is the perfect excuse for a quickie—it’s too goddamn cold even to stay out for a cigarette. No names, no awkward small talk. Just long enough to get off in the almost-dark beneath the bar’s window signs. Long enough to feel gravel beneath his knees, to taste bitter salt at the back of his throat. Long enough to quench the restlessness that vibrates through him, long enough to find his center, to keep up his front of self-preservation—

A pair of headlights clicks on, flooding the darkened space between the lot and the roadhouse where they’re standing. Billy mutters a curse and throws up a hand to shield his eyes, wondering what kind of clueless asshole—and then something clicks in his mind as the door opens. Even before the figure emerges, even before it stands silhouetted in its Members Only jacket (in this weather?) and that ridiculous hair and that fucking nailed baseball bat—well, Billy knows who it has to be. Knows what he has to say.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?”

But Steve doesn’t do the expected thing. Doesn’t give the reply that by now might as well be their secret code for come kick my ass, or pound it, could go either way. Instead, he walks towards Billy, knuckles tight around the grip of the bat.

“Who the hell is this?” The question could’ve come from either of them—Steve, standing in front of him, or the nameless man behind him—a little taller, maybe, a little older, a little less hair product. But the slightly-nasal tenor is the same, the fancy clothes, the flicker of assessing glance. Like they only make one model of closeted queer in Indiana. Or maybe it’s just the only one Billy likes.

Fast cars. Cigarettes. Pretty rich boys. Billy always seems to love the things that could destroy him.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” the man behind Billy says—Billy’s fairly sure it’s him this time, can practically feel the disdain emanating from behind him as the man looks over Steve. “Your boyfriend drove all the way out here to defend your honor?”

“He ain’t my boyfriend.” He isn’t, not even sort of—Harrington’s been avoiding him, after their last encounter, and for the sake of his own safety Billy had decided to take the hint. He takes a step forward, grabs Steve by the lapels, gives him a shove. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve returns the favor, shoves Billy back. “I need your help, jackass,” he says. He tilts his chin up and to the right, moving his gaze over to Billy’s companion. “You realize he isn’t even eighteen?”

Billy’s punch lands right on Steve’s jaw. It’s a bolt from the blue—no windup, no warning, just a swing and a connection, hard enough that Steve stumbles back. Billy turns, already pasting on his most charming smile, opens his mouth, ready to spin some shit to repair the damage—

It’s too late. The guy has his hands up, is backing away. “Thanks, but no thanks. This is way too much drama for me.” And with that he’s turning, going back—hair metal guitar solo spilling out briefly as the door opens, then shuts, leaving them out in the cold.

Billy stands for a moment. Savors the heat that fills him—something like anger, something like lust, something completely different from both—whatever, it’s enough to drown out the buzzing, to give the scrabbling energy a much-needed outlet. He turns back, smile still in place, eyes bright with coiled menace.

“God, Hargrove. You’re such an asshole.” Steve’s standing by the car, holding a hand to his jaw, split lip oozing blood; the nail bat leans against the bumper next to him.

“Born and bred, baby.” Billy watches Steve, waits to see which way this is gonna fall. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll get in his car and drive right the hell away. If he cares what’s good for Billy, he’ll man up and throw a punch in return—but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, because when has Steve Harrington ever been smart? He only straightens. Sneers a little.

“Look, do you want to help the kids out or not? We could use some backup on this.”

“Oh, is that what’s going on?” Billy can’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice—of all the pathetic, weak-ass excuses for his erstwhile hookup to cockblock him at the one fucking homo bar in the county—he stalks towards Steve. “You drop me like a hot potato, not so much as a Christmas card, then one day you just decide to ruin my night because something came along that your little midnight chess club couldn’t handle?” Billy waits for the sidewise slide of the eyes, the backing down, the slinking away—all the shit Steve’s been pulling on him since November, that leaves Billy fuming. But something tonight is changed, charged; Steve’s eyes narrow, and something in his eyes looks—delighted, almost. As if he’s missed this fire as much as Billy has, as if the pit yawns in his gut the same way it does in Billy’s.

Billy feels his heartbeat kick up a notch, feels the buzzing under his skin tune itself, become a humming, harmonizing with whatever electricity always seems to fill the space between them. A power chord, the fifth to Steve’s tonic.

Oh fuck yes. The King is out to play tonight.

“You wanted to know what’s going on in this town.” Steve’s hands find Billy’s hips, fingers curling in his belt loops. “Now’s your chance, Hargrove. If you’re not too chicken.” He gives a sort of half-smile, pulls him forward, pulls their crotches flush against each other, and goddamn if Steve isn’t halfway hard and getting harder. Goddamn if Billy isn’t right there with him. “Or would you rather just go at each other right here in the parking lot? Your call—”

“ksssssh—eve, you there? Code re—kssssh—can’t find—over—”

Steve doesn’t take his eyes from Billy, but something in his expression changes—goes from seductive to steely. He reaches back, grabs something from a belt clip—it’s one of those fucking walkie-talkies the kids are always using. He uses his teeth to raise the antenna, brings it to his mouth. “This is Steve. What’s your position?”

The static hisses, breaking up the words—they must be right at the edge of its range. “kssssh—odog—got Max—chasing—towards you—”

Billy feels his heart give a jump, much less pleasantly this time. “What’s going on with Max?”

Steve steps back, his face grim. “I don’t know, but if Dustin didn’t get after me for not saying ‘over’, it’s bad.” He hits the button on the walkie. “Do not engage. Repeat, do not engage. I’m on my way. Over and out.” A pause as he clips the walkie back on his belt, looks up to Billy’s face. “Look, I’ve got to go. I could use your help. But you should know.” His expression changes again, steel giving way to a—hollowness, almost. Hauntedness, at a depth Billy wouldn’t have credited him with even a few minutes ago. “Once you’re in, there’s no going back.”

He should be worried about Max. Billy can feel it, practically etched into his forebrain. Out of sheer self-preservation alone—if something’s happened to her, Neil will have his hide regardless of whether or not he was supposed to be watching out for her.

He should laugh this off. Billy can feel it, deep in his gut. The idea that this boy from podunk nowhere has something life-changing to show him is patently absurd. He should throw another punch, maybe two, rough Harrington up a little. Teach him not to mess with his personal life. It’d let the energy out another way—less satisfying, maybe, but just as sure. Billy realizes he’s starting to shiver, deep against his bones—soon enough it’ll take over his whole body, leave him visibly trembling. Thinks, for a moment, about the heat that he and Steve always seem to bring out in each other. Remembers the way it roars through his veins, his muscles, drowning out everything, until the world is pure and breathless and beautiful—

“Just tell me one thing, Harrington.” He steps back, squares his shoulders. Squelches the shivers that’re threatening to work their way up his spine. “Whatever it is that we’re chasing—can we burn it?”

A smile slowly grows over Steve’s face. A kingly sort of smile. And Billy has to fight the sudden urge to drop to his knees right the fuck there in the parking lot.

Luckily, Steve moves. Grabs his bat, crosses to the trunk. Pops it. Reaches in, and pulls out something long—Billy only sees it in shadow until Steve tosses it to him, until he catches it by reflex, feels the uneven weight, sees the dinged red paint on the head. An axe.

“Get in,” Steve says, opening the driver’s side door. “We’re gonna start ourselves a fire.”

#harringrove #my writing #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #too young to fall in love

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