#not today brochacho-

[aercnaut]

biting the bars of my enclosure about lee doing everything he can to not be a violent man like his father but in the end what killed him was needing to be violent purely out of love :)

[eddies-artofsuffering]

Part I: Sweet Tooth

(Part II)

Eddie stares down at his wristwatch. One minute to noon. Just one more minute.

“Want us to clear the path?” Argyle claps him on his shoulder and squeezes. “It’s almost time.”

“I don’t – I don’t know. Maybe you guys could stand behind the kitchen doors? You can see through the windows, right?” Eddie scrunches his nose.

He can feel it, he’s been conditioned to it by now, the familiar pit of anticipation. Other people may call it butterflies. Eddie thinks it’s more like pterodactyls breathing fire inside his stomach. He desperately needs someone to hold his fucking hand during this hardship.

But he also really, really doesn’t want anyone up close to witness him making a fool of himself in front of Hot Steve - a new regular customer at their cafe. An incredibly attractive guy who works at the bookstore next door.

Eddie can NOT fuck this up. It only happens once a day, for a maximum of three minutes.

“Maybe today’s the day you ask him out,” Jonathan smiles. Dude never smiles with his eyes. It’s kind of unsettling.

“Absolutely not, have you seen Hot Steve?” Eddie groans. “There’s no way he plays for my team. He’s –“

The doorbell chimes. Eddie’s head snaps towards the entrance, mouth falling open. Hot Steve is walking towards him, holy shit. It’s go time. Eddie shoos his coworkers away with a frantic wave, straightens his name tag, and rests his chin on his palm and bends over a little, elbow on the counter.

This is always the way he greets Hot Steve. It’s his signature move. Although, it hasn’t really worked yet. If it worked, Eddie would’ve won Hot Steve’s attention by now. But this is the best he got at the moment, damn it.

“Hi, Eds, how are you doing?” Hot Steve is wearing a baby-blue button-down today, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His name tag pin on the left side of his chest glints.

Eddie loves that Steve came up with that nickname on his own, despite only having seen him here at Cafe Byers for, like, two weeks now.

“Better now that you’re here.” Eddie gives him a cheeky smile, If Argyle and Jonathan were here, they might’ve been impressed with how smooth it sounded; they always comment on the way he flirts, the things he says. If you ever said shit like that to me, I’d be hella blushing, brochacho. You know you got game, right?

What they don’t know is that these lines are rehearsed in his head, so many times. It’s all Eddie ever does: practice pickup lines for Hot Steve.

“Right out of the gate, huh? You're makin' me blush,” Hot Steve smiles, and honestly, it’s hard to tell if he’s blushing at all. Or if he’s even flustered. Hot Steve's always so confident. “I’ll get a latte. With oat milk, please?”

“Oh?” Oat milk? That’s new. Steve didn’t care last time what milk he was getting. Interesting. Or is it? Eddie decides to file that information away for later. “Yea, coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

Another thing about Hot Steve that really does something to Eddie’s overworked pterodactyls, is that he never has a phone with him. Or on him. If it is, it's never visible.

Which is odd, because the entire café is littered with folks who cannot tear their eyes away from their little gadgets and devices, especially their phones; most people can’t even wait for their drinks without looking at them, checking something constantly, emails or texts or whatever. 

And, well, Hot Steve never does any of that. He always waits at the end of the counter, patiently watching Eddie making drinks. It always makes him feel so self-conscious. Eddie’s burnt his hands under hot steam a couple of times, actually.

But these two, maybe three minutes of Eddie making a fresh beverage for Hot Steve – this is the only time he gets to make small talk with him. Each time, he learns something new about him, or confirms something that Eddie’s already inferred. The grand question of the day is: “So, who’s the drink for?”

Hot Steve blinks rapidly, as if coming out of a daze. “Uh – what?”

“Whose drink is this?” Eddie says, tamping the coffee grounds. “I’m assuming it’s not yours.”

“How… did you know it’s not mine?” he narrows his eyes.

God. It’s really telling, isn’t it, that Eddie’s noticed these things? “First time for you to ask for oat milk, so. I don’t know, I figured,” he shrugs.

Hot Steve opens his mouth as if to say something. Then he doesn’t. In the corner of Eddie’s eyes, he sees him nodding with pursed lips, with a hint of a smirk. It’s so distracting that Eddie almost heats up regular milk despite this whole conversation being around someone’s (not Steve’s, apparently) preference for plant-based milk. Oops.

He finishes making the latte and walks over to the cash register, handing over the drink. Steve receives it with a small thanks. 

But Eddie knows Steve's not quite done here today. Because, when you have a tiny (massive) crush on a near-stranger, you just, kind of look for patterns. That’s just how human minds work; Eddie has been carefully collecting all the little information about Hot Steve, just based on the few minutes that he spends at the café at noon.

Which is how that Eddie’s almost certain (almost, because there’s always room for anomalies) what Hot Steve’s about to do when he asks, “Is that it for today?”

“Oh – um,” Hot Steve scans the glass case of assorted desserts and baked goods, subconsciously wetting his lips. “Actually, yea. Can I have the blueberry crumble, please?”

This is one of the very few predictable things about him. Eddie doesn’t know why Hot Steve even looks at the shelves of sweets each time as if he’s ever going to make a different choice, because it’s always the same, the only constant pattern besides his entrance that he’s ever shown Eddie: the house blueberry crumble, the ones that Eddie bakes himself.

And every time Hot Steve asks for it, Eddie has to turn around and flex his arms, letting out a silent scream of victory, because Hot Steve is fucking hooked on those things. It’s truly incredible to know that he wants it. Eddie pours his heart and soul into those.

“Of course, babe,” he swoops down, takes a small square piece out with tongs, wraps it in a pocket of parchment paper. “D’you know I bake these every morning?”

“You – it’s you?” Hot Steve’s eyes widen comically. “Wow. I thought they were, like, shipped over from a bakery or something.”

“We do have an oven,” Eddie points behind the kitchen with his thumb and looks back, makes a mistake of drawing attention to the door, only remembering then that Argyle and Jonathan are probably watching this whole thing. Really hoping that they’re being discreet. 

“That’s amazing. I – I love them,” he says, not at all looking behind, thank God. “Guess you’re good with your hands.”

Eddie could practically hear the angelic chorus from the sky. Holy shit. Hot Steve loves his crumbles. Fuck. He could cry. 

But, you know. Everything always comes to an end, and that’s usually how far their conversation goes. Nothing more than just small talk, and then Hot Steve would pay for the stuff, go back to the next-door bookstore where he works. And until the next day, it’s as if he doesn’t even exist. A mythical creature that only appears during those three minutes in time and space, then vanishes afterwards. 

So he tries, just one last time before he leaves. “Steve?”

“Yea?” Hot Steve looks up, batting his lashes. They’re – so – pretty. So long, delicate. Such a fucking contrast to his muscular arms and chest that his thin blue shirt does nothing to hide, sleeves and buttons ready to pop. It’s sinful.

Fuck, and time’s ticking, yet there are so many things Eddie wants to ask. What is your drink, then? ‘Cause you never get the same drink twice.

Why is it always at noon? Is that your break?

Where are you from? When does your shift end? You do work at the bookstore, right?

When are you free?

All of these are more or less reasonable, if not a tiny bit creepy questions. But any of these would’ve been so much better than what Eddie actually blurts out, so out of the left field that he surprises even himself: “So, uh, how much do you bench?”

Oh, fuck. Where the hell did that come from? Eddie cringes hard inside, unsure how those words, that kind of vernacular even came out of his mouth, please, he wants to rewind time - 

But it's spilled oat milk. Guh. He crinkles his nose to prepare himself to apologize. Sorry. That was so – I’m not a gym bro. I’m not! Look at me! He's about to say, but:

“You wanna know?”

Hot Steve has a shit-eating grin on. That’s a first. There might even be a faint blush on his cheeks. Holy shit. Hot Steve took the fucking bait. Not that it was bait – it was just Eddie being a fucking disaster – but he nods all the same, stupidly. Of course he wants to know. He’s committed, now.

“Let’s see.” Hot Steve’s now circling around the counter to take a closer look at Eddie, eyes travelling up and down. It feels like Hot Steve is undressing him with his eyes. It’s kind of insane that they’re doing this in public.

Hmm. 140, 145 at the most – Hot Steve mutters under his breath. “Oh yea. Easy,” he says, still smiling wickedly.

“What do you mean, easy?” Eddie croaks.

His breath hitches when Hot Steve leans over the counter, inches away from Eddie’s face. “Probably could do twenty reps of you,” he whispers, winking.

Eddie’s brain short-circuits. He stares open-mouthed at Hot Steve, unable to move until he exits the café with the drink and a brown bag, fading away from view. Gone for the rest of the day, rest of the evening. Rest of the next morning. Only to return the next day at noon, like a fucking reverse-Cinderella.

“Why were you guys whispering?” Jonathan appears from behind, nudging him on the arm. “What did he say? Did you finally ask him out?”

“I’m about to ask him out myself if you don’t,” Argyle says lazily, earning a sharp smack from Jonathan. “Just joking, man, you know you’re my main dude,” he squeezes a squirming Jonathan on the side.

“He… “ Eddie gulps, closing his eyes, and pictures Hot Steve’s tantalizing smile. “He winked.”

Continue reading on Ao3

Read the sequel: Savour

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check Part 9

Bros for Life

The Frat Boy Au

Read Previous on Ao3 or tumblr.

It’s pretty much a tradition for all of Theta house to show up hungover as fuck to the pledge ceremony. After weeks of “getting to know you” activities and nervous team building exercises, the brothers tended to blow it out when the end was finally in sight.

Argyle had, only moments before they went down to the common area, thrown up. He raised his head from the toilet bowl, wiped his mouth, turned to Billy and said, “let’s do it to it, Broseph.”

Billy himself feels like a bag of puke propped up on unsturdy legs. He’s pretty sure he still smells like tequila and he and Carver are meeting eyes in solidarity. He mumbled his way through the speech, something about how this pledge class has shown real ingenuity, and as the rush week chair he was honored to welcome them as brothers.

Which was true. He’d just hoped he wouldn’t be biting back bile as he said it.

He’s only slightly annoyed about seeing his little sis around the house so often, now that Sinclair was a full pledge. But hopefully he would be graduated by the time Sinclair actually lived in the house.

Sinclair sits up when Munson read out that he was Billy’s little brother, looking fresh as a daisy. And wasn’t he sweet.

Argyle shuffles up to the podium next, tossing a long lock of hair over his back.

“Oye, Brochachos. Theta house is so honored to welcome you home. You know the past few weeks, getting to know you all,” Argyle pauses, looking a little green, but he powers through. “You’ve all got me thinking about the word brotherhood. Not the fuckin’ webster’s dictionary definition. How it feels.”

Billy shifts in his seat, tugging a little on the strings of his hoodie.

Argyle pounds his chest. “How it feels here. That deep certainty that other people got your back. That they see you for who you are, and they hold you for who you are. No bullshit. No hiding.…”

Billy looks down at his hands and then back up at the room. Like always, like he can’t help it, his eyes are drawn to Steve’s. And Steve, for once in what feels like forever, was already looking back.

Billy’s heart actually skips a beat. He can hear music, can feel the world tilt on it’s axis, all the shit he always feels. Only a thousand times worse because he actually said it out loud to Carver last night. Oh, Argyle has guessed, and Eden always gives him that look. But it was easy for Billy to brush them off, not deny it but not confirm it.

Saying is makes it feel so much more present, like he’s moments from getting up at the podium and shouting it out.

I love you, Steve. I love you, Steven Alessandro Harrington.

“My advice to all of you- even the brothers- is to be open to us. Come to brotherhood with an open heart,” Argyle taps his temple, “and an open mind. Let us be brotherhood to you, as you will be to us.”

The last sentence doesn’t even make any sense, Billy doesn’t know why he’s tearing up. He doesn’t know why Steve keeps looking at him with those big doe eyes. Steve hurts to look at, he’s so beautiful.

“You’re here because you chose to be here, and we choose you too. Today, we, your bothers, pledge to keep choosing you, day after day.” Argyle continues, the torturer.

At least Munson is sniffling too, so Billy didn’t feel quite as bad swiping a tear away. He breaks eye contact at serious emotional danger to himself and catches Munson looking at Carver and sniffling wetly, his eyes suspiciously red.

When Argyle starts the Theta chant, at least Billy can drown out his emotion in that, throwing an arm around Munson and sweeping his eyes over the group, ignoring the burn of Steve’s eyes on him. Munson stood, pulling Billy to follow Argyle to the basement for the actual ceremony.

But someone yanks at him, pulling him away from Munson, who quickly snags Jonathan, dragging him to the basement in Billy’s stead. Billy’s all turned around and quite frankly, feeling sick, as whoever it is pulls him away to the alcove in the hallway.

Billy blinks at Steve, still caught up in the flood of emotions and not quite sure where to put his hands when he realizes Steve still has his arm. He feels like he’s been caught with his pants down, and he tightens his shoulders. He was just looking because Argyle was talking about friendship. And Steve looked back, so how bad could it really be?

Steve shuffles awkwardly, “can we, um… talk?”

This is all Billy could hope for in the past few weeks, but when he’s teary and raw it feels more like a threat. He manages to nod at least, trying to subtly swipe at his face with his arm.

“Argyle really knows how to give a speech, huh?” Steve shoves his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wall. They guessed in the 80s they used to use this alcove for a landline, but now it’s an empty little space at the back of the hall that people mostly use to make out. The thought won’t leave Billy’s head now that he’s thought it, and so on top of everything he can feel his ears going red.

“Yeah,” Billy says softly.

“Anyway, it just… I’m sorry that I haven’t been around so much. I’ve been learning some stuff about myself. But it doesn’t change… I mean… I really want to be friends again,” Steve bobs his head.

Billy opens his mouth but Steve cuts him off.

“Not that we aren’t friends, I mean… It’s just that you’re my best friend. And I feel like I’ve been so shitty. I want to do better. I can’t just… not show up for you because I’m going through shit.” Steve bows his head a little. He looks so adorably befuddled. Billy just wants to kiss his pretty boy head right off.

“Steve. It’s okay,” Billy says through the lump in his throat. “You’re allowed. Shit, if you’re going through something, and you just need some alone time or time with Robin… that’s what you need.”

Steve closes his eyes and swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Wanna hang out at the Tri Kap party tonight? I mean, if you’re going? I mean-”

Billy set a hand on Steve’s shoulder, trying to force the tremble out of his hand. “Yeah, of course, man. Is Robin coming?”

Steve shrugs, “I invited her but she thinks she hates sorority girls. I think she actually has a crush, ah… and she doesn’t want to run into them.”

Relief and caution floods through Billy so fast he could get a head rush. So they weren’t dating, at least not yet. Billy will take that.

Billy slides his arm around Steve’s waist, “Come on, bro. Let’s hurry before they start lighting the candles. That’s my favorite part.”

Steve is rigid for a second, and then relaxes into Billy’s grip.

“Argyle’s speech got to you too, huh?” Billy asks Steve as he tugs him towards the basement.

“You’re one to talk,” Steve reaches up and brushes some wetness off Billy’s cheeks.

He’s not crying anymore, but his face is still sensitive. Steve’s hand falls along with is eyes, and Billy only has a moment to wonder at what just happened.

“What can I say, I’m a real sensitive guy,” Billy could fly right now. It’s not everything he’s ever wanted, but he’s never gotten everything he’s ever wanted. “And I choose you everyday, Stevie.”

Billy cackles as a blush creeps past the hood of Steve’s Theta hoodie.

“I c-choose you too, Bils.”

Billy can’t stop grinning, which sucked because the ceremony was supposed to be serious, and also because the basement has a malodorous feet smell that they’d only been able to tame, not defeat.

He was hungover, still needed a shower from the night before, behind on homework… and he’d never been happier.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Cat Distribution System

Week #13 Prompt: Cat or Farmer's Market | Word Count: 587 | Rating: T | POV: Argyle | Characters: Argyle, Jonathan | CW: Language, Recreational Weed Use | Tags: Modern AU, Silly Fluff, Argyle Goes To Get One Kind of Brownie, Comes Home With Another

"You bought a cat? At the farmer's market?" Jonathan asks.

No, no, no. 

Is he goofy? Has Jonathan already been smoking the ol' sticky icky icky without him? That won't do. He was supposed to wait on Argyle to go get the good brownies at the farmer's market. You know, the good ones. If you can follow that drift. 

But buy a cat? Of course not. You can't buy cats at the farmer's market. Cats are just at the farmer's market sometimes, and then you just…take one home. If you want. If you're chosen. If the cat distribution system is smiling down upon you and yours.

Then, and only then, you get a cat. And it gets to not be homeless anymore. Win-win for everyone. But his buddy Jonathan looks concerned. There's no room for concern here. Only happiness at their good fortune at winning today's cat lottery.

So, yeah. Argyle wanted. He definitely wanted. A cat? Who wouldn't want a cat? What a fun brochacho to add to the house. Cats have the best energy. Having a cat will be way better than hiring someone expensive to Feng Shui the place. 

"Argyle? Are you listening to me?" Jonathan says, more snappish this time. What bee is in his bonnet? 

The cat is wiggling and squirming, and Argyle puts him down. He immediately darts away.

"Little, dude. Wait! You gotta meet Jonathan. He's your other dad. I told you about him!"

"Argyle," Jonathan says, and he looks exasperated. But he always looks like that, so Argyle isn't concerned. "I don't think I'm meant to be a cat dad. I'm allergic."

"Not anymore, dude," Argyle is happy to inform him. He knows this. His uncle's cousin on Margy's side has a friend who knows a guy from work who was able to, like, stop being allergic. To his own cat. Not to other cats. But to his own. 

Through love.

Or exposure.

Something.

Either way. It happened. And BAM! No more allergy to Mr. Snaggletooth. Or Fred. Argyle doesn't know what that cat's name is, but it's probably something real good.

"My cat allergy doesn't exist?" Jonathan asks, and immediately wipes at his eyes that do look a little watery and red.

But it's psychosomatic. Or the weed. Argyle's sure of it.

Or, maybe the cat exposure therapy takes longer than five minutes. Maybe it'll take a day. But once you've claimed your cat as your cat, then you won't be allergic. Because the cat is family now, and you can't be allergic to your family. It's against the universe or some shit. For sure. Argyle's absolutely certain.

"Say he's your cat," Argyle demands.

"Argyle."

"Declare it."

"Argyle."

Well, he doesn't have to say it out loud. He just needs to think it. And surely he's thinking it. 

"You won't be allergic tomorrow," Argyle informs Jonathan, and then hands over the sack of special brownies that he bought from behind the curtain, before he found Brownie the cat. 

He should probably formally introduce Jonathan.

"His name is Brownie," Argyle states.

"He's not brown?" Jonathan questions, but takes the tray of brownies out of the sack, inspecting them.

"No, but he was near the brownies. And we have brownies. And now we have him. It's a Brownie day. All around."

Jonathan doesn't look excited about Brownie the cat, but he does look happy about the brownies, as he takes a big bite.

Argyle smiles. That's it. One or two of those, and Jonathan will love Brownie.

He'll love everything.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[stonerskinny]

good morning brochachos i have bloodwork in two and a half hours 😭 wonder if ill pass out today it’s always a gamble

[hairstevington]

mysterious ways (Steddie Week 2023)

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Hello all! I am participating in Steddie week this year, and I am doing a seven part series reflecting each of the seven prompts. Thank you @steddie-week for the challenge! I will only have this first part on Tumblr, but will post the next six chapters each day on Ao3, so follow along over there if you're into it! :)

Summary: Steve feels lonely after the earthquake. Somewhere deep in the Upside Down, new life is born. (Prompts: Hunger - Pining - Somebody to Love by Queen)

WC: 1.4K (each part is going to be pretty short I think)

Warnings: Kas!Eddie/Steve, canon universe post-season 4, pining, angst, a bit darker than my usual fare but not by much, PS this fic will have a happy ending because all my fics do lol

A/N: I wasn't planning on doing Steddie week because I'm going through a bit of a tough time right now but I randomly felt inspired today, so I'm giving it a go. Shout out to @skjachukson for requesting Kas Eddie, I have a feeling I'll be writing him more after this lmao

Sometimes, when things are at their worst, Steve can shrug and say, “hey - it’s not the end of the world.” 

Of course, in Hawkins, it often is the end of the world. So now, Steve has no idea what to tell himself. 

His hometown, which - let’s be real - was never that glamorous, is now in shambles. After the “earthquake,” almost everyone fled, which was valid. The ones who stayed were mainly those who’d been directly involved, or those who have nowhere else to go. Many people lost everything, and Steve tries to give back where he can - they all do - but a lot of the time he’s just sad. 

His hometown was split in four, and all of his friends are in love. 

Steve feels so dumb for even caring, but he does. All he ever wanted was to be loved, really, and he’s gotten the short end of the stick the last few years. He used to feel on top of the world, and now he’s - well, he had been in the Upside Down, which was probably as close as he could get to the literal opposite of the top of the world. 

His friends found happiness where they could  - mostly through crushes and girlfriends and boyfriends. Steve doesn’t have any of that right now. He doesn’t even know where to look. Everything around him is sad. 

Robin and Vickie had bonded over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, of all things. Since then, she’s been volunteering every chance she can with Vickie. Steve joins too, sometimes, but he feels very much like a third wheel. 

Some random dude with incredible hair and an even more incredible name (seriously, who names their kid Argyle?) showed up with Mike, Will, El, and Jonathan in a pizza van. A day later, the guy decided to drive back to Utah to visit his one true love or something. A woman with an equally badass name - Eden.

Steve wasn’t surprised when Dustin wanted to join, because apparently Eden lives with Suzie. Still, Steve was baffled by the whole thing. Usually, some sort of alarm would go off in his head about his surrogate little brother going on a road trip with a stoner, but Argyle seemed nice enough. 

Although, he did unironically use the word “brochacho,” and Steve didn’t really know how he felt about that. 

Steve knew Dustin was taking - uh, things - super hard, and so Steve encouraged any sort of break for the guy. Visiting Suzie seemed like the perfect way for Dustin to decompress, especially after what happened. 

So, Dustin took off. Robin’s busy. Steve is too mortified to even look at Nancy after he’d basically professed his love for her and she brutally rejected him and stayed with Jonathan. Lucas spends all of his time with Max. El and Mike are inseparable. 

That leaves Will. Steve doesn’t know Will that well, but he’s so lonely he doesn’t care if he comes off desperate or weird or whatever. 

Steve shows up at the Byers’ residence one Saturday morning, looking like a total dork. Hopper answers the door, even though Steve would have far preferred Joyce. She’s less, uhhh -

“Steve?” Hopper asks, gruffly. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um - I’m looking for -”

“Is that Steve?” a familiar voice calls from the living room. 

Ah, shit.

“Hey, uh, Nancy,” Steve says, giving a small wave. 

“Is something wrong?” she asks, joining Hopper at the door. 

“No, I -” Steve sighs. He’s mortified to even be in this situation. It was such a stupid plan in the first place. “I’m looking for Will. Is Will here?”

“Umm, yeah,” Nancy responds, retreating back into the house to presumably get her boyfriend’s little brother. 

“What do you need Will for?” Hopper asks, suspiciously. 

“Jeez, relax, Sheriff,” Steve replies. “I just wanted to talk to him. I’m the babysitter, remember?”

This explanation seems good enough for Hopper, even though Steve hasn’t really interacted with Will much prior to this. Not directly, anyway. He’d let the kids in to see movies for free back when he worked at Scoops, but that was it. 

After a full thirty seconds of awkward, painful silence, Will comes to the door. 

“Hey, kid,” Steve says. Hopper and the others had thankfully walked away to give them some privacy. “Do you - do you want to go to the music store with me?”

Will stares at him blankly for a moment, then shouts to the others behind him. 

“Mom! I’ll be back later!” 

Steve smiles, triumphantly. 

“Okay, have fun!” Joyce’s voice rings from somewhere in the house. “Be home by 5 for dinner!”

“You got it, Mrs. Byers!” Steve yells into the void. “Okay, let’s go.”

Will hurriedly walks out of the house and shuts the door behind him, then sighs in relief. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he says. “All the couples are driving me crazy.” Steve chuckles. 

“You and me both.”

-

Will turns out to be excellent company. He has good taste in music, and he’s funny. A little nerdy, like Dustin, but much quieter about it. They get along great, and end up spending a few hours together.

“My brother said he’d be there for me, and now he’s back to spending all his time with Nancy,” Will complains. 

“Yeah, well Nancy broke my heart into a million pieces, so,” Steve replies. 

Then, they riff on how annoying Jonathan and Nancy’s relationship is for a while. They aren’t saying anything out of genuine dislike for either party, but it’s still some much needed venting. Steve listens to Will talk about Mike and El, and that’s when he picks up on some things in between the lines. 

Maybe having a gay best friend makes him better at detecting that sort of thing. 

They pick out a bunch of music and listen to it as they drive around for a while. They both are big fans of Queen, so they blast that first. They get a little too into singing along to Somebody to Love, but neither of them poke fun at the other for it. As much as Steve and Dustin tease each other, and as much as he complains about being the babysitter, Steve loves these kids with all his heart. All of them, even the ones he doesn’t know as well, like Will. He would do anything to protect them. He’d done quite a bit already.

He drops Will off before dinner as promised, then heads home. It’s only after he passes by Forest Hills that he starts to think about Things again. The Things that he tries to suppress. The Things that bubble beneath the surface at any given moment. 

The Things that led up to the Earthquake. He isn’t ready to think about them. Not yet, maybe not ever. 

So yes, it’s far easier to reach out to other people who understand, and to cling to them as long as he can. And then he goes home, and instead of letting his mind drift to those dark places, he starts singing Queen under his breath. 

It’s stupid. It won't fix anything. But still, the need is there.

All he wants is somebody to love. 

-

Hawkins has begun to crack open, and soon what lay beneath will rise. 

It’s a dark place - somewhere that’s always on the verge of a storm. The energy in the air is thick with dread and impending doom. The creatures that live there are something that people may cast off as fictional, because their eyes aren’t open yet to how terrifying and big the world really is. 

Monsters, of all kinds. Some who had once been human, some who prey on humanity. Evil forces that keep kids awake at night. Forces that their parents insist are in their imagination. 

How foolish to think an imagination could be so vivid. Then again, perhaps imagination is what created this place to begin with. It could also be what sustains it.

A flash of lightning. Bats scattering. 

There’s a body somewhere in the fog, going through a transformation. Wings, teeth, and hunger. It takes several days for the body to resemble its altered form - one of strength, intimidation, and a deeply-rooted instinct for evil. 

Once complete, the body gasps in its new life. The soul of a tortured boy once occupied this space, but now there’s something else within him too - something ancient. 

Eddie Munson’s glowing eyes snap open.

He’s starving.

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

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[thetargaryenbride]

                                    The It Girl - C.1

Warnings: a little bit of trash talking, Jason being an a$$

Pairing: Steve x F!Byers!Reader x Eddie

Word Count: 5352

𝑨𝑵: 𝘏𝘪, 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘜 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 2000𝘴. 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘢 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 2000𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵~  𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝑨𝑼, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒐𝒓 (𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓) 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 2000𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆. 

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐎𝐎𝐂 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 🦩💕

Masterlist || Chapter 2

“You okay?” asked Eddie after he finally battled off his fight or flight instinct and you looked up, startled to see another person standing close by, and surprised you haven’t noticed him earlier.

“Oh…you’re the freak,” you stood up and faced away from him, slowly going to where your belongings were lying.

“Um, excuse me? I have a name,” he bit out as the grip on his backpack tightened.

“Yeah, I know,” you quipped. “You are the Munson guy. Your father was, uh, that criminal? Who’s been in prison for god knows how long now,” you huffed as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “I don’t know why you’re approaching me but just so you know, my boyfriend is on his way here so don’t you think of doing anything…funny,” you looked him up and down suspiciously and he let out an incredulous snort.

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he ran a hand through his hair before he moved it to rub the bridge of his nose and you arched an eyebrow. “Here I am, wanting to check on you because you were crying and you’re acting like a total bitch,” he spat out and your face distorted into one of disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

“You know what? Maybe I am going to sacrifice you to the devil. Plastics like you actually deserve this kind of end,” he smiled tightly and you let out an outrageous gasp.

‘Okay. Can we…can we please rewind? Rewind, please! That’s not how the story goes. Jesus.’

Hawkins, June, Year 2005

It was the beginning of June. The days were getting almost unbearably hot and everyone was beginning to look for ways to cool themselves. And while the students of Hawkins High were not anticipating the upcoming final exams, they were surely excited about the upcoming summer vacation.

‘Okay, so, my name is Eddie Munson. I’m a pretty simple guy, you know, I love rock and roll, movies, I love hanging out with my buddies, playing D&D, and occasionally smoke some weed. Okay, it’s not occasionally. It’s every day. But life is short! You gotta enjoy it. Try everything. I have no regrets…Except for one.

“What class do we have now?” asked Jeff over the ringing of the school bell as he shut his locker and Gareth let out a humming noise while racking his brain for today’s program.

“Oh, it’s art!”

“Awh, man,” whined Eddie, running a hand through his hair. “Can we skip?”

“Do you want to repeat another year?”

“Ouch, man, that was so unnecessary!” exclaimed the boy with a fake wounded tone and put a hand over his heart, dramatically pretending that someone shot him with a bullet.

“Art class is the most fun, brochacho,” drawled Argyle happily. “We can relaax and take it easy.”

“It’s boring, though,” groaned the boy. “Nothing interesting ever happens! And I can’t draw for shit!”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Boys are cheats and liars! They’re such a big disgrace-“ Eddie’s eyebrows shot to his hairline the moment he entered the art classroom and saw you and Chrissy Cunningham do a little cheer while clapping your hands in an odd routine. “They will tell you anything to get to second base-ball, baseball, he thinks he’s gonna score! If you let him go all the way, then you’re-“

Their little chant was ruined by the clearing of a throat when a couple of other girls entered the classroom and Eddie and the gang quickly moved from the front of the room, not wishing to be caught in the crossfire of your two groups, and took their respectful seats. ‘Nothing interesting ever happens,’ he had said and he was ready to eat his words.  

“Ew… skank alert,” announced one of the girls in disgust as she smacked her gum loudly and you and Chrissy shared an annoyed look.

“I don’t think announcing your presence is necessary, Carol. We can all see you’ve entered the classroom,” you shot back at her and her expression soured.

“Your mother-“

“Carol, Nicole, Tina, I better not hear the end of this sentence,” scolded the teacher and the girls in question froze before scurrying to their seats, making you and Chrissy giggle, place a kiss on your palms and slap the side of your hips before sitting down as well.

“I hate that beef,” grumbled Eddie as he tore through his bag to take out needed supplies and his friends snickered under their breaths. “Spoiled little girls throwing stupid insults at each other? C’mon.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m living for the drama,” grinned Argyle from ear to ear as he bobbed his head to the music he was listening to.

♫Pass the Dutchie 'pon the left hand side

Pass the Dutchie 'pon the left hand side

It a go bun (give me the music, make me jump and prance) ♫

“Mr. Argyle! The headphones!”

“Uh, yeah, my bad!”

“Ah, Y/N Byers,” sighed dreamily Argyle from across the table and Eddie looked at him weirdly. “She is a goddess trapped in a human body,” praised the boy as he stared at you adoringly and Eddie almost choked on his lunch. “I’d give anything to spend even one day with her.”

It was now lunch time and everyone has gathered at the cafeteria to grab some food, rest, and socialize. Eddie and his friends had bolted out of the classroom to get in line first in order to avoid the huge bustling crowd and the long lines and were now happily munching on some macaroni and chicken nuggets.

“Pfft, yeah right. You know that it’s more possible for angels to sprout out of your ass than for one of the populars to hang out with the likes of us,” snorted Eddie, and Gareth and the others just rolled their eyes.

“Well, at least watching and admiring them is for free.”

“Jesus H Christ! Stop acting like pervs, you idiots!” exclaimed the boy with disgust and frustration as he smacked Gareth across the head with the magazine he had been reading.  

“Dude, what’s your problem? Every time we talk about Y/N and you get all moody. Why do you hate her so much? She hasn’t done anything mean to us. She hasn’t done anything mean to anyone!” inquired Gareth and Eddie scoffed.

“Yeah, whatever dude,” he grumbled, slapping the magazine on the table before he aggressively pierced a couple of innocent macaroni and shoved them in his mouth, allowing the creamy cheesy flavor to calm down his nerves.

Even though he scolded them, he couldn’t help but look in your direction.

You had just walked into the cafeteria alongside your best friends – Nancy Wheeler, Barbara Holland, and Chrissy Cunningham – and the four of you were making your way to the line of students to wait for your turn.  

You were once again dressed by the trends, wearing a creamy-colored, floral-patterned, low-rise skirt that reached your knees, a light pink top, with some frills and ribbons, that showcased your abs and pierced belly button, and high platform shoes with ribbons wrapped around your ankles.

He craned his neck and watched you place two whole wheat bread slices on your plate alongside a low-fat cream cheese, a peach, and a handful of berries. He fought off another eye-roll at the way you popular girls perceived that kind of eating as healthy. He’d pick a nice cheeseburger any day.  

“Let me carry it for you, babe,” Steve, who had entered shortly after you, immediately rushed to your side after seeing you, and offered his help, taking the tray off your hands, and you looked at him adoringly, following him to your usual table.

“Little miss fragile will ruin her manicure if she carries her own tray,” snorted Eddie as he watched your group go sit at the popular table that was located in the part of the cafeteria that stood erected a bit higher than the rest of the space.

They called it, The Podium.

There were a couple of tables on The Podium and they were all specifically saved for the populars. It was their area. Their domain. No ‘nerd’ dared to set foot there. It was reserved for the cheerleaders, the guys from the different sports teams, and other rich students.

“Why do they always get together?” asked Jeff and the others looked at him confused. “Cheerleaders and football players? Y/N and Steve. Chrissy and Jason.”

“Beats me.”

“Some kinda unwritten rule, I guess?”

“Man, what I would give to be able to dissect what’s in the mind of the populars and how they come up with the social norms we’re forced to follow,” shook his head Jeff and Eddie, Gareth, and the others looked at him oddly. “C’mon, don’t act like you don’t wanna know!”

“Uh, maybe…”

“See you later, man.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie bid goodbye to his group of friends before parting ways and heading for his special place not too far from the school grounds where he intended to smoke for a bit before going home. After all, he didn’t want his uncle to catch him red-handed.

But the more he got closer to the picnic table, the more he was able to hear someone sobbing. That sent a pang of panic, mixed with worry, through his heart, and his pace quickened until he finally arrived at the place, eyes widening in surprise when he saw a familiar cheerleading uniform, worn by no other than you.

Your back was pressed against the edge of the bench, you had one leg to your chest and you had crossed your arms on top of it, using them to cushion and bury your head in.

“You okay?” he asked and you sharply lifted your head to look at him, the utter definition of deer caught in headlights.

For a moment, he froze completely and the only thing he could do was stare at you.

For a moment, multiple different scenarios ran through his head. Scenarios of you being a total bitch to him and bullying him just like most of the populars did.

“Oh…you’re the freak.”

“Your father is that criminal, right?”

“Don’t think of doing anything funny like recruit me for your cult or whatever. Stoner.”

He didn’t know why his brain always acted up in such ways where he vividly imagined worst-case scenarios and his fight or fly instincts would activate. It was like a curse.

“Are you okay?” your voice snapped him out of his train of thought and his gaze focused back on you.

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m good.”

“You just spaced out on me,” you chuckled barely audibly and wiped your moist eyes before gripping the bench for support.

Eddie immediately dropped his bag on the ground and rushed to your side, grabbing you by the arm, and helping you stand up. You let out a wince as you lost balance and fell against his chest.

“Whoa, you good there? What’s going on here?” he asked with an arched eyebrow and your face scrunched up in discomfort and embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I just…I was practicing some moves while waiting for Steve but I think I may have sprained my ankle a bit.”

“You think?” he looked at you incredulously before helping you sit on the table. “Let’s see,” he stuck his tongue through the corner of his mouth, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration as he propped your legs onto the bench and took off the shoe and knee-high sock of your left foot. “Is that why you were crying?” even though he wasn’t a big fan of the populars, he couldn’t help but show concern for a fellow human being that seemed to be hurt.

“Uhm…n-no, not exactly. That’s…kinda personal. You shouldn’t ask such questions to a lady you just met,” you chuckled awkwardly and he rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“Does this hurt?” he asked after he grabbed your ankle and began to slowly move it and twist it, making you hiss.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“I don’t see any bruising or swelling, at least not yet, so I think you’ll be good in a day or two,” he sent you an encouraging smile and you tried your best to return it. “And next time don’t practice any moves on such uneven terrains,” he instructed as he stood up and gave you some space to bend and put back on your sock and shoe.

“Alright, Dr. Munson. I promise I won’t,” he smiled at your words and shook his head, bending to pick up his bag. “Thank you,” you told him after a while and he looked at you with wide eyes, still unable to believe that what had happened was real.

“Uh, no, it’s nothing, you don’t need to thank me,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, trying to fight off the heating of his cheeks at the way you smiled so gently and sincerely at him.

You were radiant.

No wonder you got the nickname “It Girl”.

“You know, uh…I didn’t expect you to be like that,” he commented and you lifted your eyebrows.

The two of you sat in silence for a while as you properly registered his words and formed a certain conclusion.

“You know… For a person who I’ve heard preach about appearance and how we shouldn’t judge people based on it, you’re not exactly following the example you’re trying to set,” you told him as you locked eyes and you could see the way his filled with realization. You could see the exact moment when something in him snapped and clicked and multiple thoughts began swimming in his brain which was reflected through his deep-brown irises.

Just then, you heard the huge clock at the front yard of the school ring, signaling the end of any after-class activities which meant Steve’s practice was over.

You jumped off the table, careful not to put any strain on your ankle, and picked up your bag.

“See you.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Eddie to mull over the whole interaction he had with you. Maybe you weren’t as bad as he thought you were. Maybe you were more than what met the eye. Maybe you were even a great person. He didn’t know that because he didn’t know you. The only thing he was able to see was the exterior you were showing to others which wasn’t an indicator of the person you were. Not to mention he had been too quick to jump to… certain conclusions.

You were right.

He shouldn’t have judged you based on something so superficial. Or based on what happened before because he didn’t know the whole story.

He wasn’t following the example he was trying to set.

And suddenly he understood why Gareth and the others were so curious about you and the other populars. Because maybe things were so much different than what they were able to see on the surface.

And now he was intrigued.

He wanted to learn more about you.

A few days later  

♫Mental wounds not healing

Life's a bitter shame

I'm going off the rails on a crazy train ♫

“I’m going off the rails on a crazy train,” Eddie heartily sang the lyrics to one of his favorite Ozzie Osborn songs as he drove his van, one hand steadily steering the wheel while the other tapped to the rhythm as he slightly rocked back and forth and bobbed his head.

He was currently heading for Gareth’s house where the band was to gather today and practice their newest song. Corroded Coffin was beginning to slowly gather more fans and visitors to the Hideaway and he was beyond happy with the way fate finally smiled at him and his friends.

“What?” he muttered quietly as he saw a big sign in front of him that read ‘Bikini Carwash & Pool Party’, written in bold, pink font with a white outline, and sparkles drawn around it. He furrowed his brows when he saw a huge crowd not far from his location with cars driving towards it and he shook his head.

‘Typical’, he thought at first.  

But suddenly, he hit the brakes and tilted his head, eyes darting left and right, up and down, as his brain raced with thoughts. What if you were there? He didn’t want to admit it but in the past couple of days since your accidental meeting, his intrigue had only grown and he had looked for any kind of opportunity to cross paths with you.

Of course, nothing had worked because you were never alone and had either Steve or your friends and teammates with you and he didn’t want to deal with them and the odd looks they were undoubtedly going to throw his way.

He was almost ashamed to admit he had considered befriending Jonathan – your brother and the best photographer at school – just so he could learn some more about you.

The boy let out a long exhale before he drove backwards and turned around, heading for the crowded spot. His eyes looked over the multiple people as he carefully drove past them and his eyebrows shot to his hairline at the sight of all the bright colors. He was already getting overwhelmed by the pinks and purples and greens and yellows. It felt like a rainbow exploded in this place. And whoever had organized this had purposely chosen to host it right next to the huge public pool so they could combine the carwash with a pool party.

And then he saw you.

You were talking to someone, laughing at something they said, while you were in the midst of cleaning a car. You were wearing a bright blue bikini with a white tropical flower stamped on one side, white, knitted shorts with blue and gold patterns woven in them, and high-platform blue shoes. Your hair was tucked nicely in a bun with only a couple of strands escaping and framing your face, and you had on a golden necklace with a dolphin tail that shimmered in the sun.

“Hey, watch it!” someone shouted and he harshly hit the brakes for the second time today, the deafening screech making a couple of heads turn to see what was going on.

He lifted a hand and smiled awkwardly, apologizing through clenched teeth and a tight smile as the students he almost hit lifted their hands in a ‘What the fuck, man?’ manner and looked at him as if he was a dumb imbecile before continuing on their way.

He let out a sigh as his head dropped and hit the wheel. He knew it was a stupid idea to come here of all places. It’s like disaster was bound to happen every time he tried to mingle with the populars.

“Hey, you okay there?” your voice sounded and he shot up straight, head snapping to look out of the open window, and he came face to face with the cause of his heated cheeks.

“I, uh, I-I’m good!” he grinned and leaned on the windowsill, trying to play it off cool. “Hi,” he lifted his hand in a greeting and kicked himself internally.

“Hi,” you giggled. “We have to stop meeting like that… Don’t mind them. Sometimes they are the ones who don’t watch where they’re going,” you chuckled and tried to reassure him, making him relax a bit. “Why don’t you park over there and me and the girls will come wash the van,” you suggested and he turned to look at where you were pointing before back at you, gnawing at the inside of his cheek.

“Uhm, how much do you…charge again?” he asked and you shrugged.

“Well, honestly, it doesn’t matter. Whatever you’re able to give will be helpful.”

“Helpful?” he arched a brow and you tiled your head, confusion clearly written on your face.

“It’s a charity carwash,” you revealed and his jaw slacked. “We’re gathering funds for the local retirement home. I spoke to Ms. Driscoll a couple of days ago and she said they are in need of some more medical equipment soo I discussed it with the others and we came to the conclusion that while the adults can easily donate money, we also had to do our part in contributing to this cause so, here we are,” you finished as you lifted your arms, turning your head to look at the bustling crowd around you, before dropping them back down and facing Eddie once again.  

“Oh…wow,” was the only thing he could muster as he stared at you almost unblinkingly and your smile grew, eyes glinting playfully.

“What is it? Are we still judging by appearance?” you asked as you sent him a knowing look and he snapped out of his staring and cleared his throat, unable to meet your eyes at first.

“Uh, no, NO, it’s just, I’m just amazed, that’s all,” he explained as a smile grew on his face. “You’re doing something great. Really.”

“Thanks!”

“Listen, I actually know a thing or two about cars, so,” he drawled. “I can help clean them on the inside,” he suggested and your eyes widened.

“For real!?”

“Yeah!”

He never believed that a couple of minutes later he’d find himself being dragged by you, hand in hand, towards a crowd of popular kids in colorful bikinis who sprayed water and soap everywhere. And when some foam landed on him, he couldn’t help but think he was a genius for leaving his leather jacket behind. 

Although his Iron Maiden t-shirt was most probably going to be ruined.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Music blasted through the speakers, soap bubbles filled the air alongside the sound of laughter, people were playing volleyball and jumping in the pool, some were drinking cocktails, some were relaxing on inflatable mattresses as others tried to turn them around, and he couldn’t stop looking at the way you smiled from ear to ear, laughed heartily, and happily splashed cars with foam and water, drenching yourself in the process.

“More cleaning, less staring,” startled him a voice to his left and he slowly turned to find Chrissy standing close by with crossed arms and a slight teasing smile. “If Steve catches you looking at his girl, you’ll get into serious trouble.”

“I wasn’t staring at her,” he was quick to defend himself, resuming his cleaning, but Chrissy only chuckled as she uncrossed her arms and walked closer to him, leaning on the car he was currently washing.

“I understand the kind of impact she has on people and trust me, I’m not threatening you or something. I’m not going to tell Steve. Just…be more careful,” she smiled genuinely at him and he was once again stunned at the sincerity and kindness of yet another popular girl.

“Thanks…I guess.”

“Oh! Speaking of the devil!” exclaimed the girl and he turned to see you approaching them.

“We’re almost done with the cars!” you announced and Chrissy clapped happily. “We can finally go change and properly enjoy the party!”

“Let’s skip to the dressing rooms then!”

“Sure, just give me a moment,” you told her and she nodded before throwing one last glance at Eddie and leaving the two of you alone.

“What is it?” asked the boy suspiciously.

“I was going to offer you to stay for the party. Have fun with us,” you suggested and he narrowed his eyes, throwing the sponge back in the bucket, a couple of water droplets splashing out of their confines and landing on your feet.

“Look, Y/N…I don’t wanna sound rude or anything but…isn’t that a bit conceited of you?”

“Conceited? In what way? What do you mean?” you asked with wide eyes and he let out a sharp breath, running his hand through his hair and averting his gaze from yours.

“Seriously? You mean to tell me you haven’t seen the way Jason Carver, Tommy H, and the rest have bullied the shit outta me? And you want me to come to a party where they’ll be at? Nah, I’m skipping that. I don’t want to mingle with your crowd.”

“Eddie, I promise Jason and the others won’t bother you. I’m hosting the party and I dictate the rules. If they do something stupid and kill the vibe, I’ll kick them out,” you promised and he stared at you in silence for a while, visibly weighing his options.

“Alright…I’ll come,” he relented and you flashed him the biggest grin.

“Great! Come on then!” you exclaimed excitedly as you nudged him in the pool’s direction and he hesitantly began moving towards it. “You can call your friends if you want. I don’t want you to feel awkward surrounded by strangers, even though I’ll be there and I suppose you’ve met Chrissy so she’ll have your back too.”

Have his back? Now that was a thing he never expected to hear from the populars. It almost felt like a fever dream. It almost felt like it was too good to be true and it was all a part of some super sick and twisted prank you wanted to pull on him. Because why in the world would you suddenly decide to take him under your wing and be nice to him? Something wasn’t adding up.  

“Dude, I can’t believe we’re at a party with them!” exclaimed Gareth as he tucked his arms to his chest and clenched his fists excitedly, making Eddie, who was leaning casually against a table’s edge, shake his head and huff out a laughter.

“Count your lucky stars. It’s gonna be the first and last party we attend.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” smirked one of his friends and Eddie arched a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems like a certain someone may have taken a liking to you,” his smirk grew and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Like a person takes a liking to homeless puppies. Don’t make this weird, dude. I’m probably someone she took pity on and she sees me like, some kinda charity case,” shrugged the boy and now it was his friends’ turn to roll their eyes.

“Say it like you mean it, rock star.”

“Hey, sorry for the delay,” your voice sounded close by and they all got startled, as if afraid you’d catch them red-handed, and straightened up, turning to face your approaching form. “I had to go meet with some other friends,” you explained as you finally reached them and Eddie couldn’t stop his eyes from running over your body for, and he was ashamed to admit, the nth time today.

You had changed out of your bikini and shorts and you were now wearing a two-piece summery outfit, blue in color and with pretty patterns fitting the vibe. The top and the skirt were snugly wrapped around you and the shell necklace you wore gave the outfit a tropical finishing touch.

One thing that never ceased to amaze him was the way popular girls always took an extra step to look good and create trends and although not everything was to his liking, especially the bright colors and the glitter, he could respect their creativity. And you were always at the front when it came to those kinds of things, leading the others.

Someone yelled nearby, managing to out-shout the noisy crowd and the music, and you could all hear the sound of a loud splash as they cannon-balled into the pool, snapping Eddie out of his ogling and causing his cheeks to flush in embarrassment when the realization hit him.

But you didn’t seem to have noticed him checking you out, or you did but chose to overlook it, as you simply extended your arms, showcasing the glass jug half-full with yellow liquid that in moments appeared to be blue or purple due to the colorful lights that were lighting the place.

“Do you want some lemonade? Or you’d rather drink alcohol?” you asked and he shook his head.

“I think I’ll pass on the alcohol.”

“Is it because you’ll be driving later or just because you don’t drink?”

“I drink sometimes but, I’d rather pass. I think alcohol is overrated,” he shrugged and for a moment, his brain jumped to another scenario once again, imagining that you would call out his use of drugs, mock him, and say something along the lines of ‘Oh, and drugs aren’t?’ but you just laughed.

“Then we’re more alike than we think!” you poured a glass and handed it to him before leaving the jug on the table behind him.

“Cheers to that, I guess,” Eddie raised his glass awkwardly and your eyes crinkled as you clanked yours against his and drank the delicious liquid.

“Hey,” boomed a voice from behind you and you turned around, coming face to face with no other than one of your boyfriend’s best friends. “What’s going on here? You freaks talking up my boy’s girl? How did you even sneak in here?” he asked suspiciously as he looked between you and Eddie and the smile dropped from your face. “What, you wanna recruit her to join your little satanic club?”

“Jason, that’s not it,” you tried to explain the situation before he could do something stupid and you could see Eddie gulp nervously as his grip on the glass tightened. It was so obvious that he wanted to run away from this place as if he had hot coals under his feet.

“Hey, relax, man, we’re just having some fun,” lifted a hand in surrender Argyle, and Jason narrowed his eyes. “We’re not recruiting anyone. As a matter of fact, Y/N was the one whole invited us here.”

“You’re lying,” bit out the boy. “Why would she invite freaks like you?”

Before you could back him up and say that yes, you did, in fact, invite them to come, one of the guys beat you to it.

“I don’t know, maybe we’re better company than you, pretty boy,” shrugged Gareth and Eddie’s eyes widened comically as he grasped the boy’s arm warningly.

“Dude, shut the fuck up! You’re gonna get us all killed!” he whisper shouted and he almost broke the glass from how strong he was holding it, using it as a lifeline so he could control his shaky hands, when he noticed Jason stalk closer to them, a murderous look in his eyes.

“I dare you to say that again.”

“Jason,” you grabbed him by the arm and he turned to look at you. “You’re acting like a jackass. Stop it.”  

“Look, he just misspoke,” Eddie’s voice broke as he tried to placate the angry guy who turned to stare him down and he had to clear his throat. “Tell you what? We’ll just go,” he pursed his lips and lifted his hands in surrender, taking a step backwards. “We don’t want any trouble. We’ll just leave! So, let’s forget about this, okay?” he asked, tone a bit too high-pitched for his liking, but then again he was no hero, he was no Aragorn, he was no brave Gryffindor, or Han Solo, so the only thing he could think of was how to slither out of this situation and make a run for it.

Of all the populars, there was one guy he didn’t want to confront in any case and that was Jason Carver.

“Oh, yeah?” Jason tilted his head mockingly, yanking his arm out of your grasp, causing you to stumble and slip on the wet marble. Thankfully, you managed to steady yourself by grasping onto Chrissy who had come running after witnessing the confrontation. Jason shortened the distance between him and Eddie uncomfortably, making the boy stand on edge as the hair on his neck bristled. “I don’t think so.”

Before you or anyone else could say or do anything, Jason’s hand found its way to Eddie’s shirt, grasping the fabric tightly in his fist and roughly pushing the boy off the ledge of the pool.

The startled scream Eddie wanted to release did not come out, staying stuck in his throat, as he fell backwards and hit the water.

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Steve: Happy Valentine's Day, Eds

Eddie: Are those flowers?

Steve: Yeah?

Eddie *sneezing*: I'm deathly allergic to flowers!!

---

Will: I made you a painting

Mike: I bought you a gift

*both blushing and stammering over thanks*

Mike: I love you

Will: I love you too

---

Robin: I bought you chocolates, but- but then I decided that's so cliche, so I bought you a pencil instead, because you know, you like to journal

Nancy, hands on her heart: Thank you!!

Nancy: I got you something too

Nancy *kisses her sweetly*

---

El: Happy...Valentino's...Day???

Max, laughing: Oh my god! I love you so much! Come here!

Max *hugs her tightly*

El: I love you a lot too

---

Lucas: I guess we're alone

Dustin: Nah, Suzie's calling me in a minute

Dustin: you're alone

Dustin: But happy Valentine's Day bro

Dustin *leaves*

Erica *enters*

Lucas: Hey

Erica: I made you something

Lucas: Oh?

Erica: Yeah, it's a get the fuck out of the house on Valentine's Day card

Erica: Love you!

---

Argyle: Bro-

Jonathan: *kisses him*

*starts making out*

Jonathan: Fuck, I wanted to do that for so long

Argyle: Wait, isn't today Saint Patrick's Day?

Jonathan: It's Valentine's Day...

Argyle: I love you, brochacho

Jonathan: I love you too

[alvaeris]

Radtastic brochacho

I ate a chip, ice tea and chocolate ice cream today.

That is. Basically it.

Very girly. Very demure.

-🌀

chips are great. so are chip, singular. but chips, plural are better, in my opinion! i have iced tea with me right now. three of them, actually. two milk teas and one ice lemon tea.... and one coffee..... okay, maybe this is a problem. maybe you should have more chips, though. or more ice cream. or just about anything.

[calciumdeficientt]

Could you write Ted Thompson or Johnny Vincent relationship hcs 🤭 your hcs are so good like this is what I live for

I think I sent an ask about my ocs Toby and Dolly for ship hcs (Toby x Ted, Dolly x Johnny) but this iPad is tweaking so idk if they came thru

I really liked the choose your own adventure thing i did for the thad date hc thing so i think I’m gonna emulate that here with a first date with Ted scenario… i just.. i want to okay this is my blog!!!!! there’s also a choose your own adventure tier on my ko-fi now if anyone wants it i just…i really wanna write more stuff like this it was fun

FIRST DATE WITH TED THOMPSON CYOA

You were late to lunch, English class had run over again because Mr Galloway had to go and print new worksheets, having spilled cheap whisky all over the original ones. Opening your locker to place your. Textbooks inside, you see a figure stop and lean on the locker beside yours, noting crazy interesting, kids at Bullworth are pretty good at stopping and pausing midway through a task. Closing your locker, you see that it was Ted Thomson leaned against the flaky blue paint of the locker “Hey, listen. I’m doing a little training session tonight, just me… Tryna keep my gains up” he flexes a little, not able to contain his little smile “You should come with, I always need a spotter.” DIALOGUE OPTIONS: “SURE, I DON’T REALLY HAVE ANYTHING GOING ON TODAY”, “UHHHH THANKS BUT NO THANKS, I DONT REALLY DO SPORTS”, “I’M SORRY, DO I KNOW YOU?”

“SURE, I DON’T REALLY HAVE ANYTHING GOING ON TODAY”: Ted smiles, happy that you’ve chosen to accept. He pushes himself off of the locker and adjusts his letterman a little bit. “Tight, meet me outside the gym at 6… wear something you don’t mind getting sweaty”

“UHHHH THANKS BUT NO THANKS, I DONT REALLY DO SPORTS”: Ted raises a brow at this, everyone at Bullworth does gym at the very least. He presses you a little more “It wont be anything crazy, I’ll go easy bro, trust me” DIALOGUE OPTIONS: “STILL NO, NOT MY SCENE” ���FINE, BUT DON’T LIE TO ME”. “STILL NO, NOT MY SCENE” —>Ted crunches his face up, he didn’t understand why you were being so difficult. He’s an all American QB, you know how many people are chomping at the bit to see how he trains? “Whatever, your loss loser” Ted clears off, making sure to give you a firm shoulder tap on his way past MISSION FAIL. “FINE, BUT DON’T LIE TO ME” —> Ted’s smile widens, he seemed like he still had a chance of getting his ball in your red-zone “Right on, I’ll see you at 6, okay?”

“I’M SORRY, DO I KNOW YOU?”: “I.. uh” Ted sets his jaw and narrows his eyes a little bit, as he stands there dumbfounded, trying hard to see if you were joking. Based on your body language and general lack of interest in your tone of voice, the message was received loud and clear “Yknow what… I thought you were someone way hotter, case of mistaken identity, brochacho”. Thoroughly embarrassed, Ted walks off, likely down to the cafeteria to drown his sorrows in carbs. MISSION FAIL

At 6, you meet Ted by the door of the Gym, he’s wearing his football shirt and the smallest, tightest gym shorts he owns, if that’s not a sign of what he wants to get up to later, then I’ve got no idea what is. He smiles and approaches you “Glad too see you came, c’mon. I came early and set everything up, we can just get started” he looks to you expectantly, clearly approving of your choice of workout clothes,and very very happy to see you taking this seriously. He allows you to enter the gym. He has a couple machines set up, they’re a little worn down, clearly heavily used by the jocks in their free time. There’s a weightlifting bar with a few dusty old plates, a cross trainer and a few tackling dummies with crash mats behind them “ You know how to tackle, bro?” DIALOGUE OPTIONS: “YEAH I THINK SO, I USED TO PLAY FOOTBALL AS A KID” “NOT REALLY, BUT IT CANT BE THAT HARD, RIGHT?” “NOPE, I DONT SLAM INTO DUDES FOR FUN”

“YEAH I THINK SO, I USED TO PLAY FOOTBALL AS A KID”: Ted gives a nod of approval and allows you to approach one of the dummies, situating himself behind it in case you slip out of the tackle and get hurt, but also to provide some extra resistance if you come in a little hard “Right on, y’know you should try out sometime, we’re always on the hunt for fresh meat”

“NOT REALLY, BUT IT CANT BE THAT HARD, RIGHT?”: He doesn’t quite appreciate the fact that you think football is so easy, there’s a lot of nuance in the positioning for a tackle and avoiding a foul and whatnot, but he likes the cut of your jib and is willing to show you the ropes “Right on, man, right on. Let me help you out”

“NOPE, I DONT SLAM INTO DUDES FOR FUN”; Ted’s brows furrow. He’s thoroughly offended by your answer, nice going, punk. “Hey! I’m not like that.. I’m an all American…. And just so you know, naked twister is a good way to boost morale… and we’re not even naked, we have socks on an- why am I explaining myself to you?! Get gone, loser!” He drags you out of the gym and slams the door behind you, expect a thorough beating from the jocks in the coming days MISSION FAIL

You spend an hour or so working on tackles, 30 minutes for you, and 30 minutes for Ted. The sheer amount of forcer in his tackles leaves you winded, sore and begging for mercy. Ted just thinks you’re playing around, and goes to fetch some water for the both of you. On his return, he gestures to the weight rack and suggests you take a stab at it, having proven yourself on the tackling dummy “Hey, how about this, you take a breather and spot me, okay? Then the Tedster can help you”. His time on the bench is short and sweet, he’d already worked out his arms in the morning, and just wanted to a couple extra bench presses as a nightcap. Being the gentleman he was, he wiped the sweat off the bench once he was done, and left the plates on the pole so you wouldn’t have to fiddle around with them. “Hey, you need a spot bro?” ACTION OPTIONS: REFUSE THE SPOT, LET HIM KNOW YOURE A TOUGH COOKIE; ACCEPT THE SPOT, BUT ASK THAT HE TAKE SOME OF THE WEIGHT OFF THE BAR FOR YOU FIRST; INSIST THAT HE CONTINUE, AND YOURE FINE TO KEEP WATCH.

REFUSE THE SPOT, LET HIM KNOW YOURE A TOUGH COOKIE; Ted nods and backs away from the barbell. Unfortunately for you, Ted benches triple your body weight as a warm-up,so his usual bench press is much too heavy. Your arms give out from under the bar and it falls on your windpipe, crushing it and killing you almost instantly. Ted can’t be with someone that has such a weak windpipe, so be bails on you as you slip into oblivion, but he does show up to the funeral MISSION FAIL

ACCEPT THE SPOT, BUT ASK THAT HE TAKE SOME OF THE WEIGHT OFF THE BAR FOR YOU FIRST; Ted nods, quickly removing some of the plates for you “Sorry man, I shoulda thought of that first, I forgot you’re kinda wimpy.” He laughs a little and gets himself in the right spotting position. It’s still a little heavy, but you won’t die or anything. Ted’s right there to catch the bar before it does any serious damage.

INSIST THAT HE CONTINUE, AND YOURE FINE TO KEEP WATCH; Ted’s a little confused, he won’t lie, but he’s pretty impressed you’re still hanging around because it means he gets to show off. He benches fast, and even does some little tosses with the bar, its all fun and games until he conks himself on the head. A little embarrassing but not a dealbreaker.

Your little workout session is over almost as soon as it began, and thank god, that crosstrainer looked like some form of saw-trap,Ted must have put it out for decoration or something, because he seemed to forget about its existence altogether. Maybe he just wanted to focus on training that the pair of you could do together. Ted unlocks the gym door and the cool night breeze feels SO GOOD on your embarrassingly sweaty body. He raises a brow at you as he watches you try and get cool, and can’t seem to stifle a little chuckle. “Hey, dude, how’s about you join me in the showers for a debrief?” DIALOGUE OPTIONS: “UM… YEAH DUDE, I WAS JUST GONNA GO TO BED LIKE THIS” “I’M COOL, I WAS GONNA USE THE HOSE OUTSIDE OF HARRINGTON HOUSE” “SURE, IVE ALWAYS WONDERED WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO PLAY WIDE RECEIVER!”

“UM… YEAH DUDE, I WAS JUST GONNA GO TO BED LIKE THIS”: Ted once again can’t tell if you’re joking, but while ultimately deciding to let sleeping dogs lie, he just cant help but tell you that you’re totally weird for that. “EW, foul ball man. Whatever, I was never here, okay?” all you had to do was wash your stinky ass, way to blow it in the last quarter. MISSION FAIL

“I’M COOL, I WAS GONNA USE THE HOSE OUTSIDE OF HARRINGTON HOUSE”: A little weird, sure, but Ted can respect the hustle. He hates those rich freaks as much as the next guy, even though he doesn’t know them too good. Apart from Justin… he knows Justin VERY well. “Right on man, go mark your territory”

“SURE, IVE ALWAYS WONDERED WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO PLAY WIDE RECEIVER”: Ted cant help but grin, it was such a dumb joke but he didnt care. He’s managed to get a workout in, and get some action all in one night. The pair of you walk towards the showers and Ted can’t resist the urge to yell “HAHAHA TOUCHDOWN” before allowing you passage into the boys locker room, closing the door behind you.

LEVEL:CLEAR

NEW HI SCORE!

POINT BONUSES: COMPLETIION BONUS +5,CLIQUE LEADER SCORED +10, BOINK BONUS +69,PERFECT RUN BONUS +10, WEIRD AND OFFPUTTING BONUS +5, READING THE BONUSES BONUS +100

CONGRATULATIONS!

You just completed a first date with a clique leader! Excellent work fair traveller. Let me know how well you scored in the RBs/comments

PLAY AGAIN? <Y/N>

[cage-cat-yt]

Tlt Drunk Guy fanart (tw alcoholism, possible eyestrain, and glitch)

Hello besties and brochachos!! I spent an estimated day amount on this (yesterday was the sketch, lineart, and colors+texture, today was shading, text, and background) and I'm really happy with how it turned out! It's been so long since I did a digital piece, I've been doing mostly traditional these past few months lol. I wish like the first hall's shading could've been done a little better and the backgrounds were better, but other than that I wouldn't change a single part of this. I like how I did like, the texture on DG, it feels like it would have a weird feeling if you touched it lol (it was more obvious with the lack of shading but atlas, you'll see that with the speedpaint on my yt lol)

Anyway, thanks for reading! Remember to hydrate and I hope you have a good day :)

[arrgylc]

When’s the last time anyone heard anything about ARGYLE FUENTES? Old friends remember them as OPEN-MINDED & LAID-BACK but also BLUNT & OBLIVIOUS, no wonder they’re still known as THE BASKET CASE around town. Today, in 2006, they are 39 and some people say they remind them of the faint ever-present smell of weed lingering in your clothes despite your attempts to cover it up with essential oils and incense of every kind; unexpectedly making the move from ‘token sidekick’ to the trope of ‘genius ditz’; finding fulfillment in the simple things in life; perpetually sore muscles from keeping up a brave face    

PINTEREST

BIOGRAPHY

TW: DEATH MENTION, GRIEF, DRUGS

Maybe deciding to stay in Hawkins had been the easiest decision Argyle had ever made in his life. Jonathan had been his first real friend in the world, as Argyle would later quote at Jonathan’s wedding reception, his life had… basically started the moment he’d walked into Mrs. Miller’s classroom at the beginning of the year, the second he’d sat down on the only empty seat left in the class and Argyle had turned to him with a grin so big it had made his cheeks ache. Brochachos for life. Trauma-bonded until the end of their lives after that wild fucking roadtrip they’d gone on, spring break of ‘86.

First, though, Argyle had to wait until graduation. He’d promised his abuela on her deathbed that he’d finish school, and he’d sort of promised himself, too. There were plenty of people, loads of teachers included, who seemed to be convinced that, because he indulged in the occasional blunt, he’d never amount to anything, much less academic success. But, ha, he’d show them! (Also, he wasn’t going to start shit with the ghost of his grammy. He may have promised her to stay in school but she had promised him to come back and haut his ass if he didn’t. And she’d already been scary while alive, no need to risk anything. ) Show them he motherfucking did. Walking that stage at graduation with a joint tucked behind his ear, a wide grin, bathing in the gobsmacked stares of all the people who’d thought he couldn’t do it. Take that, Lenora Hills. Take that, Martin from Algebra. Take that, uh…. what was that dude’s name again? Anyway.

Having successfully graduated from High School, all Argyle needed to before moving to Hawkins was drop out of community college.  A predictable move for him, sadly. He’d stuck it to the haters with the 3.2 GPA at graduation. Then he’d proceeded to un-stick it to them by giving up his place at Lenora community. But whatever, there were more important things in Argyle’s life now than studying and drinking questionable amounts of alcohol out of red solo cups. Lenora community would still be there if Argyle ever decided to move back to Cali, and, besides, Hawkins had a community college of its own. So, Argyle could support his best bro and get an education! Two birds with one beautiful, smooth, warm stone. A joint between his lips, Argyle handed in his apron and drove the Surfer Boy van along the coast for one last time.

Life in Hawkins was … different, to say the least, but easier to adapt to than he’d initially thought.The first few months were spent mostly indoors, comforting and supporting Jonathan in any way he could. Movie nights, long talks over a shared joint in the middle of the night. Whatever he needed, Argyle was there to provide it. Whether that was a grocery run, a call to the funeral home to re-negotiate a deal on the caskets. Argyle proved to be a real jack of all trades during that time -  a time of mutual comfort during grief, though, because, of course, Argyle wasn’t left completely untouched by the deaths of Will and El, either. He’d known them for as long as he’d known Jonathan, had needed to get used to this new version of the Byers household, as quiet as he’d never experienced it before. The first few months until well after the funeral, Argyle did everything to be as accommodating as possible to Jonathan, Hopper, Joyce.

Oh, Joyce. Bless her heart. Argyle hadn’t been fortunate enough to have grown up with a mom, raised by his father and abuela, and that had been totally fine and lovely! But holy cow, wasn’t it lovely, too, that Joyce Byers had taken him in like one of her own. He’d even called her ‘mom’ by accident a couple of times. But it wasn’t horrific like it was when he’d been so tired he’d accidentally called Mrs. Croucher ‘mom’ in history class. No, the opposite, actually, Joyce had merely laughed, ruffled Argyle’s hair, a distant look of sadness in her eyes she tried to hide by quickly asking him if he wanted anymore mashed potatoes.

It’s Joyce that pitches the idea of a roadtrip to California to him. Arglye quickly pitches it to Jonathan and, after a little convincing, they’re back in the Surfer Boy Pizza van, a big, foldable map spread out across Jonathan’s lap while Argyle happily drums along to ‘Break My Stride’ on the steering wheel. Down the West Coast to California. A trip down memory lane - stopping by the Byers old residence, paying a visit to Argyle’s father and his new wife - with a healthy dose of laying on the sand at Santa Monica beach, sharing a joint while watching the sunset. ‘You know, brochacho’, Argyle would say with a dazed grin, watching intently as the red and orange and blue of the sea exploded into a lovely rose-ish colour, ‘everytime there’s a, like, a super, like, pretty sunset? That’s my abuela saying hi. And Will, too. And your little sis.’ And he would nod to no one in particular, before adding, a little quieter; ‘Sorry I ratted you out to Joyce with the viscious skate attack, little bro. That was actually so badass.’ And they would be quiet for a while.

Once back from their trip, Argyle, having blown through his Surfer Boy savings, got a job at the laundromat. He just sat there most of the time, blazed, talking to little old Dolores about her cat or her husband, he wasn‘t quite sure. Since moving to Hawkins, Argyle had gone on a journey of … finding himself. He’d pretty much sailed through life, couldn’t really name any goal or aspiration he had. Everytime they’d taken one of those career aptitude test he’d panicked - all those things sounded sort of good! But also all of them sounded sort of bad, too… god, how could he ever decide what to do with his life?

One night, he had an epiphany. Having consumed a criminal amount of weed, the idea had suddenly popped into his head, and he cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner. ‘A speak easy….. but, like, for weed, man!’ A buddy of his had gone to Amsterdam in the summer, told him about the ‘coffee shops’ there. But how much more exciting when it was, like, secret! And smoking was still criminalized, at least in Indiana it was. Had he stuck gold here?

Argyle’s secret-but-not-so-secret weed speakeasy, the weed sponsored in part by one of the only friends he’d made in Hawkins excluding Jonnie boy, some super cool dude named Reefer Rick, opened underneath the laundromat soon after. With moderate success among insiders but, hey, success nonetheless!

However, once Argyle pitched the idea to some of his buddies who owned a couple of weed dispensaries in Cali, he had really stuck gold, like, seriously.  A place where you could both purchase the goods and consume them, in a safe space, a comfy environment? Genius. Truly. Maybe this had been Argyle’s purpose all along, being a business owner. A true business man. But without the stuffy suits and the, like, cocaine and infidelity.

Suddenly, as if overnight, Argyle Fuentes is, like, rich. Like, filthy rich, or something akin to that. Like, raking in dough, rich. When he checks his bank account for the first time in months - he doesn’t usually do that, money is made up, anyway - he can scarcely believe it’s real. ‘Don’t spend it all at once!’, the bank teller cautions him with a playful wink. Argyle nods, proceeds to buy his dad and step-mother their house. He pays off whatever debts they have. Then he withdraws a fifty and leaves. He scarcely, if ever, touches his funds, why should he? He’s got everything he needs. He makes sure Jonathan’s fridge is full, makes sure he’s got snacks in his own, too. Every once in a while, Argyle will pick a good cause to donate some of the money to.

Oh, he buys a cat, too. Garfield. Who … looks nothing like Garfield, but it was the only cat name he could think of. So now he’s rich and he has a cat and he travels for business (fucking business) every once in a while, but truly, Argyle is happiest when he’s lounging on a bench near lover’s lake, basking in the few hours of sun Hawkins gets in a day.

During his travels he meets the woman that, soon enough, will turn Argyle into an actual dad. She’s a good buddy, one joint too many and one thing had led to another,a one night stand had turned into a future of co-parenting. No bad blood between them, fuck, if anything, Argyle was stoked! He’d always wanted to be a dad, and this was going to be a challenge, of course, but one he’d happily take on. Maybe this is his purpose in life, after all. He’s so happy, it’s ridiculous. The fact that she doesn’t pressure him to either marry her or stay completely out of her and the little bud’s life is a huge relief on him, too.

Everything’s going too good, almost, in comparison to what Jonathan’s going through. When Joyce passes, Argyle puts all other things on hold, rushes to Jonathan’s side. Surely, this dude had been through enough trauma to last a lifetime, and here came another hit. But Argyle is there, and he’s not going anywhere. Fuck, he’s in this for life, no take-backsies.

Argyle put his surfer boy cap - or one of them, the man’s got thousands - in the time capsule, along with the recipe to the famous surfer boy pizza dough (there’s a secret ingredient in there that Argyle can’t even remember now),

STATS

    Athletics (How Athletic are they?)  1

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?) 3

Contacts (Do they know people with information?) 3

Deceive (Are they a good liar?) 0

Drive (like, actual driving ability) 2

Empathy (How much of an empath are they?) 3

Fight (Do they have hands?) 0

Investigate (Can they sleuth?) 2

Lore (Kinda like knowledge) 1

Medicine (First aid essentially) 1

Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?) 0

Notice (Is your character observant?) 1

Provoke (Are they a shit stirrer?) 0

Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on command?) 2

Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale) 3

Stealth (Are they sneaky?) 1

Will (Tenacity) 2

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home ARGYLE FUENTES (oscar isaac fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

BASICS

      [OSCAR ISAAC, CISMALE, HE/HIM] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [ARGYLE FUENTES]? Old friends remember them as [OPEN-MINDED & LAID-BACK] but also [BLUNT & OBLIVIOUS], no wonder they’re still known as [THE BASKET CASE] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [39] and some people say they remind them of [the faint ever-present smell of weed lingering in your clothes despite your attempts to cover it up with essential oils and incense of every kind; unexpectedly making the move from ‘token sidekick’ to the trope of ‘genius ditz’; finding fulfillment in the simple things in life; perpetually sore muscles from keeping up a brave face  ]. [you know who iam. (threat)].    

BIOGRAPHY

TW: DEATH MENTION, GRIEF

Maybe deciding to stay in Hawkins had been the easiest decision Argyle had ever made in his life. Jonathan had been his first real friend in the world, as Argyle would later quote at Jonathan’s wedding reception, his life had… basically started the moment he’d walked into Mrs. Miller’s classroom at the beginning of the year, the second he’d sat down on the only empty seat left in the class and Argyle had turned to him with a grin so big it had made his cheeks ache. Brochachos for life. Trauma-bonded until the end of their lives after that wild fucking roadtrip they’d gone on, spring break of ‘86.

First, though, Argyle had to wait until graduation. He’d promised his abuela on her deathbed that he’d finish school, and he’d sort of promised himself, too. There were plenty of people, loads of teachers included, who seemed to be convinced that, because he indulged in the occasional blunt, he’d never amount to anything, much less academic success. But, ha, he’d show them! (Also, he wasn’t going to start shit with the ghost of his grammy. He may have promised her to stay in school but she had promised him to come back and haut his ass if he didn’t. And she’d already been scary while alive, no need to risk anything. ) Show them he motherfucking did. Walking that stage at graduation with a joint tucked behind his ear, a wide grin, bathing in the gobsmacked stares of all the people who’d thought he couldn’t do it. Take that, Lenora Hills. Take that, Martin from Algebra. Take that, uh…. what was that dude’s name again?

Having successfully graduated from High School, all Argyle needed to before moving to Hawkins was drop out of community college.  A predictable move for him, sadly. He’d stuck it to the haters with the 3.8 GPA at graduation. Then he’d proceeded to un-stick it to them by giving up his place at Lenora community. But whatever, there were more important things in Argyle’s life now than studying and drinking questionable amounts of alcohol out of red solo cups. Lenora community would still be there if Argyle ever decided to move back to Cali, and, besides, Hawkins had a community college of its own. So, Argyle could support his best bro and get an education! Two birds with one beautiful, smooth, warm stone. A joint between his lips, Argyle handed in his apron and drove the Surfer Boy van along the coast for one last time.

Life in Hawkins was … different, to say the least, but easier to adapt to than he’d initially thought.The first few months were spent mostly indoors, comforting and supporting Jonathan in any way he could. Movie nights, long talks over a shared joint in the middle of the night. Whatever he needed, Argyle was there to provide it. Whether that was a grocery run, a call to the funeral home to re-negotiate a deal on the caskets. Argyle proved to be a real jack of all trades during that time -  a time of mutual comfort during gried, though, because, of course, Argyle wasn’t left completely untouched by the deaths of Will and El, either. He’d known them for as long as he’d known Jonathan, had needed to get used to this new version of the Byers household, as quiet as he’d never experienced it before. The first few months until well after the funeral, Argyle did everything to be as accommodating as possible to Jonathan, Hopper, Joyce.

Oh, Joyce. Bless her heart. Argyle hadn’t been fortunate enough to have grown up with a mom, raised by his father and abuela, and that had been totally fine and lovely! But holy cow, wasn’t it lovely, too, that Joyce Byers had taken him in like one of her own. He’d even called her ‘mom’ by accident a couple of times. But it wasn’t horrific like it was when he’d been so tired he’d accidentally called Mrs. Croucher ‘mom’ in history class. No, the opposite, actually, Joyce had merely laughed, ruffled Argyle’s hair, a distant look of sadness in her eyes she tried to hide by quickly asking him if he wanted anymore mashed potatoes.

It’s Joyce that pitches the idea of a roadtrip to California to him. Arglye quickly pitches it to Jonathan and, after a little convincing, they’re back in the Surfer Boy Pizza van, a big, foldable map spread out across Jonathan’s lap while Argyle happily drums along to ‘Break My Stride’ on the steering wheel. Down the West Coast to California. A trip down memory lane - stopping by the Byers old residence, paying a visit to Argyle’s father and his new wife - with a healthy dose of laying on the sand at Santa Monica beach, sharing a joint while watching the sunset. ‘You know, brochacho’, Argyle would say with a dazed grin, watching intently as the red and orange and blue of the sea exploded into a lovely rose-ish colour, ‘everytime there’s a, like, a super, like, pretty sunset? That’s my abuela saying hi. And Will, to. And your little sis.’ And he would nod to no one in particular, before adding, a little quieter; ‘Sorry I ratted you out to Joyce with the viscious skate attack, little bro. That was actually so badass.’ And they would be quiet for a while.

Once back from their trip, Argyle, having blown through his Surfer Boy savings, got a job at the laundromat. He just sat there most of the time, blazed, talking to little old Dolores about her cat or her husband, he wasn‘t quite sure. Since moving to Hawkins, Argyle had gone on a journey of … finding himself. He’d pretty much sailed through life, couldn’t really name any goal or aspiration he had. Everytime they’d taken one of those career aptitude test he’d panicked - all those things sounded sort of good! But also all of them sounded sort of bad, too… god, how could he ever decide what to do with his life?

One night, he had an epiphany. Having consumed a criminal amount of weed, the idea had suddenly popped into his head, and he cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner. ‘A speak easy….. but, like, for weed, man!’ A buddy of his had gone to Amsterdam in the summer, told him about the ‘coffee shops’ there. But how much more exciting when it was, like, secret! And smoking was still criminalized, at least in Indiana it was. Had he stuck gold here?

Argyle’s secret-but-not-so-secret weed speakeasy, the weed sponsored in part by one of the friends except Jonathan he’d made in Hawkins, some super cool dude named Reefer Rick, opened underneath the laundromat soon after. With moderate success among insiders but, hey, success nonetheless!

However, once Argyle pitched the idea to some of his buddies who owned a couple of weed dispensaries in Cali, he had really stuck gold, like, seriously.  A place where you could both purchase the goods and consume them, in a safe space, a comfy environment? Genius. Truly. Maybe this had been Argyle’s purpose all along, being a business owner. A true business man. But without the stuffy suits and the, like, cocaine and infidelity.

Suddenly, as if overnight, Argyle Fuentes is, like, rich. Like, filthy rich, or something akin to that. Like, raking in dough, rich. When he checks his bank account for the first time in months - he doesn’t usually do that, money is made up, anyway - he can scarcely believe it’s real. ‘Don’t spend it all at once!’, the bank teller cautions him with a playful wink. Argyle nods, proceeds to by his dad and step-mother their house. He pays off whatever debts they have. Then he withdraws a fifty and leaves. He scarcely, if ever, touches his funds, why should he? He’s got everything he needs. He makes sure Jonathan’s fridge is full, makes sure he’s got snacks in his own, too. Every once in a while, Argyle will pick a good cause to donate some of the money to.

Oh, he buys a cat, too. Garfield. Who … looks nothing like Garfield, but it was the only cat name he could think of. So now he’s rich and he has a cat and he travels for business (fucking business) every once in a while, but truly, Argyle is happiest when he’s lounging on a bench near lover’s lake, basking in the few hours of sun Hawkins got in a day.

During his travels he meets the woman that, soon enough, will turn Argyle into an actual dad. She’s a good buddy, one joint too many and one thing had led to another,a one night stand had turned into a future of co-parenting. No bad blood between them, fuck, if anything, Argyle was stoked! He’d always wanted to be a dad, and this was going to be a challenge, of course, but one he’d happily take on. He’s so happy, it’s ridiculous. The fact that she doesn’t pressure him to either marry her or stay completely out of her and the little bud’s life is a huge relief on him, too.

Everything’s going too good, almost, in comparison to what Jonathan’s going through. When Joyce passes, Argyle puts all other things on hold, rushes to Jonathan’s side. Surely, this dude had been through enough trauma to last a lifetime, and here came another hit. But Argyle is there, and he’s not going anywhere. Fuck, he’s in this for life, no take-backsies.

Argyle put his surfer boy cap - or one of them, the man’s got thousands - in the time capsule, along with the recipe to the famous surfer boy pizza dough (there’s a secret ingredient in there that Argyle can’t even remember now),

STATS

       Please distribute up to fifty points among the following stats! Click here for more detailed instructions on stats.

Athletics (How Athletic are they?)  1

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?) 3

Contacts (Do they know people with information?) 3

Deceive (Are they a good liar?) 0

Drive (like, actual driving ability) 2

Empathy (How much of an empath are they?) 3

Fight (Do they have hands?) 0

Investigate (Can they sleuth?) 2

Lore (Kinda like knowledge) 1

Medicine (First aid essentially) 1

Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?) 0

Notice (Is your character observant?) 1

Provoke (Are they a shit stirrer?) 0

Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on command?) 2

Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale) 3

Stealth (Are they sneaky?) 1

Will (Tenacity) 2

    EXTRAS

     pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.co.uk/edsmunson/argyle/

[evil-gay-person-inactive]

Brochacho we had a fucking science test today and now I wanna dieeeeeee-

Science is unfathomably boring-

What'd u do today???

urgh i had an oral presentation in science class today. luckily i got 100% even though i could've SWORN i did a half-ass job-

i got called down to the school counsellor's office and missed over half of science so... also i'm supposed t be doing a book report on a book i should've finished like 2 weeks ago but haven't even started. we have an entire test on it next french class. gonna kms fr-

[hairstevington]

💜WIP Wednesday💜

Tagged by @hbyrde36 !!! <3 <3 <3

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

-

My file names:

we can be heroes (deaf steve part 2)

if i said you could never touch me

Eddie Munson vs the World

Every city's got a graveyard

Max AU

Snippet from Eddie Munson vs the World under the cut (because I wrote and posted the newest chapter today):

Argyle’s voice chimed in from the audience. “Oooooh, I think that’s my bad, brochacho,” he said. “There was a paper taped to our door with I’m coming for you written on it. You think that’s what she’s talking about?” Eddie whimpered. “Uh, yeah, man, I think that’s what she’s talking about. Why didn’t you tell me about this?” “I thought it was from Jonathan!” Argyle explained. “Although, now that you mention it, it wasn’t his shade.”

Tagging my dearest @withacapitalp because I want us both to writeeeeeeeee love you king

[seullovesme]

WELL, WELL, WELL, LOOK WHOS FEELING DISCOURAGED ABOUT THEIR WRITING ABILITIES 😟DONT U DARE GIVE UP ON THAT SWEET, SWEET WORDSMITHING, U MAGNIFICENT WORDSMITH 😡😡

LISTEN UP, SWEETHEART☝🏻JUST BC THE WORDS ARENT FLOWING EFFORTLESSLY RN DOESNT MEAN UVE LOST UR TOUCH. EVERY WRITER GOES THRIUGH WRITERS BLOCK, BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE TGEM ANY LESS OF A WRITER. THAT MEANS THAT URE JUST RECHARGING UR BATTERIES 😋😋

SO STRAIGHTEN THAT KEYBOARD AND GET READY TO KICK THOSE FANCY ASS WORDS BACK INTO SUBMISSION 😤😤 U GOT THIS, LILA. WRITERS BLOCK IS JUST A SHITTY TEMPORARY ROADBLOCK, AND URE ABOUT TO PLOW RIGHT THROUGH IT WITH UR UNSTOPPABLE WORDSMITH POWERS 🥳🥳🥳

NOW, GO ON AND CONQUER THOSE BLANK PAGES, BROCHACHO. SHOW THAT SELF DOUBT WHOS BOSS AND PROVE THAT UR WRITING SKILLS ARE STILL TOE CURLING AS THEY WERE AS BEGORE. U GOT THIS 🙏🙏

IM WAITING FIR THEK IRENE FICS BTW 😋

LMFAOOOOOO THIS ACTUALLY MADE MY DAY. im gonna start writing tn so lets see what this wordsmith has in store for today 🙏🙏🙏 I WILL TRY NOT TO DISAPPOINT SO THANK YOU FOR THE ENCOURAGEMENT HONEY 🫡🫡🫡