#post season 2

[ckducky]

it seemed like a good idea at the time...

inspired by this panel in Action Comics 1067 (2024) art by Eddy Barrows, Cian Tormey, and Danny Miki

[pharlapcartoonist]

A tiny comics for your feels.

I'm sorry

[dalliancekay]

AFTER

After Crowley slowly drives off, looking heartbroken and lost deep in thought.

After Aziraphale walks into the lift, contemplative and sombre.

I don't think Crowley goes off on a binge drinking session or a hundred. I don't think he goes looking for someone new. I don't think he sleeps until whatever happens next, happens.

I don't think Metatron will succeed in keeping Aziraphale under his thumb as he envisioned. Unless he does something drastic and awful to him (locks him away, erases his memory that kind of thing), Aziraphale will find a way around rules. As he's always done.

And Crowley back on Earth is thinking about what he's learned in Heaven, that he had no time to tell his beloved. He will think about the way Gabriel, who he still hates with his whole being, said no to another Armageddon and was going to be punished for it. He will think about how Aziraphale was willing to try everything to save the world the first time, up to killing a child in the end. And the danger he's in now. Because he will try the same thing again for sure.

Aziraphale wasn't in Heaven for 6000 years, but it didn't change much in the meantime. He still can't stand it, but he also knows it holds prisoners; millions of lonely, overworked angels who never had the chance to learn how to question anything.

Crowley will do things. He's good at doing things after the first shock of a crisis. Just jumping in and trying something. He might go speak to the only other nice angel he knows. He might have questions. He hasn't been in Heaven in a long time. Where is God he asks. When was the last time anyone seen Her. Did anyone get any messages directly from Her since Jesus died on Earth? Aziraphale will find ways to speak to angels no one spoke to for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. He will be kind, gentle and curious and he will answer questions about Earth with a farewell look in his eyes and the angels will beg him to show it to them sometime and the Supreme Archangel will promise to try. Crowley will think back to the tentative talks they had in the last few years about what is most likely to happen. To them. To the Earth. To Heaven. To Hell. When.

Aziraphale will touch his lips and miss his home intensely, vowing to himself to find a way to save it. Again and again. To save his beloved, even if he'd never take him back (but he has hope) to save what matters. And what matters is to be free. To have a choice.

Crowley will think about Aziraphale, hugging the soft grey cardigan to himself, hoping his angel will find a way to break from Heaven. To snap the chains that hold them in the unforgiving system they exist in. And he knows Aziraphale will. Because he has faith. He is mad, but not at his angel. His angel is the only one he can trust. He will wait.

Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate and Crowley, The Serpent of Eden, who lead humanity to question rules and choose the option to know; understand that nothing is perfect. It never was and never can be. And they want to keep it that way.

After pt. 2

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Eddie skims the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was actually interested in. He was just going to end up forgetting about it and picking up one of the lord of the rings books again. Instead he just lets himself wander through his thoughts. Letting his body go in autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of dozens of books.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. Preparing to loop through said aisle again but nearly jumping out of his skin when he nearly falls over another person. A person who was sitting down, back pressed to the shelf he was walking the corner of.

A croak like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face first into carpeting. Stumbling forward a bit and catching balance on the shelf to the left of him. Secretly praying to all that’s holy that he didn’t somehow know the entire shelf over.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier then normal. Putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he nearly jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a very beat up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror book came to life. His eyes, or eye was a bit glossed over and wide as he starts stuttering over his words a bit. Obviously having a moment before Eddie came along and crashed the party.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his own words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand his DnD campaign reference.

He begins to walk away, wanting the entire awkward interaction to be over. But he can’t help but be just a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocking a hip out. He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did enjoy was knowing some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book up. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes or anything but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur up a bit, like he was drunk. But Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober.

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. Purposely forcing his eye lids open with one hand and jokingly pressing the finger tip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye as he brings two thumbs up and comments, “we are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts, shaking his head a bit obviously amused. His body tensed up a bit as he goes a bit pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breathes as his fists tighten around the book he was holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms from off his chest and moves a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. Leaving a few inches between the two of them.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusting himself. “Yeah- just moves my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Lifting his hand up and running one of his rings against the bottom of his lip before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stopped ps himself. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounded like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers. Don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. Though he furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.”

Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart, he had to keep up the image he had going on or else people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals. And he didn’t want to ruin said image to Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.”

Eddie feels a little bit shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept.

“You’ve got yourself a deal Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other and does a playful salute as he stands up fully and begins to walk away.

[k0re-pp]

ok, officially declaring this piece FINISHED :D

closup :P

womp womp

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 7

Hello and welcome to the penultimate chapter. There is literally only one more chapter after this.

Steve enjoys the weekend for a change, and Eddie is sneaky.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

****

Dustin had called to hang out Saturday afternoon and Steve really couldn’t say no to that kid even if he tried. And he had. It never worked. The big eyes with chubby cheeks and gap-toothed smile, Steve would give in every fucking time.

It was annoying.

Of course the kid went on and on about the AV club and D&D and how cool it was going to be to join the D&D club his freshman year.

Steve thought hard on that last one. He wasn’t sure if they accepted freshmen. Or even what the club was called. Dustin couldn’t remember. Only that he had heard some older kids talking about it once while he was at the library.

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Then how do you know it was even about D&D?”

“Because, Steve,” Dustin said rolling his eyes right back, “they were talking about THaC0.”

Steve tilted his head to the side in confusion. “What’s thayco?”

“‘To Hit Armor Class Zero’, it means what you have to roll to hit a monster or for the monster to hit you,” he explained cheerfully.

“Then why isn’t it pronounced thaycz?”

Dustin reared his head back in disgust. “Because it’s too hard to say?”

Steve looked up with raised eyebrows and then nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

And then the conversation moved on from there.

Steve stayed for dinner as Claudia, like her son, never took no for answer.

As he drove home he thought about his afternoon with Dustin. Yeah, it sucked that he didn’t have people his own age to hang out with these days, he could always count on that little twerp to make him feel better.

When he got home there was a single pink heart stuck to one of his front doors. Steve pulled it off with a smile. It was from Kas again.

-Stevie You’re a great friend. I wish more people knew that. Kas

He slipped it in next to the others in his wallet and then opened the door. He slipped off his shoes and jacket, leaving both by the front door. He thudded up the stairs to his room and tossed his wallet and keys on the small dish he kept on his desk.

It was a deformed ceramic little lily pad with its leaves bent slightly to form the dish with a misshapen frog in the middle. There was a chip on one of the leaves and the frog was missing an eye. It was supposed to be an ashtray for his mom for Mother’s Day. But that was the year she ‘quit’ smoking that year and had thrown it in the trash. That night he had dug it out and hid it way for years until he got his license. His mom never commented on it, so he assumed she didn’t remember what it was originally for.

Like most of his childhood, if he was honest.

He sat down in his chair and looked over at his wallet a moment. He sighed and picked it, opening it to take out the pink hearts.

Steve laid them out on his desk and made a little discovery. When he laid them out in order he received them the paper had gone from really pale pink to a lighter pink. He wondered what that was about.

With a sigh, he decided to go for a run again. To clear his head. Only this time he was going to bring water and properly stretch. His coach had been decidedly unimpressed when he explained why he was so sluggish on Monday.

Secretly Steve was with him on that one. It had been stupid, but his mom yelling at him had set him off and he ended up paying for it.

He had been grateful for Eddie’s rescue. Hell, he had been grateful for Eddie just being around the last few days. He was always hanging out at Steve’s locker between classes or waiting for him by his car after school.

It was... nice.

****

Eddie had successfully delivered the Saturday heart out of sheer dumb luck. He had pulled onto the street when he saw Steve’s BMW pull out of the driveway and turn the other direction further up the street.

Eddie had hurriedly taped the heart to the door and booked it before any of Steve’s neighbors could even peek out of their windows.

What was worse was that he knew he couldn’t capture lightning in a bottle twice. He couldn’t bet on Steve leaving twice. But he didn’t know how to get it to Steve without the gig being up.

He chewed on his nail until he bit the bullet.

He pulled out the White Pages and went looking for the right Harringtons. Sure enough about half way down the list was Harrington, Clint and the right address.

He picked up the phone and called.

“The Harrington residence, this is Steve,” the warm voice greeted. “How can I help you?”

Eddie let out a little snort. “Your parents make you answer the phone like that, Stevie?”

“Eddie?” Steve asked.

“One and the same, darlin’,” he replied. “I got the number from the White Pages if that’s all right?”

“That’s fine!” Steve hurried to reassure. “I’m glad you called!”

Eddie preened in the comfort of his kitchen where only Wayne would laugh at him and considering the man was sleeping because he worked the night shift, couldn’t.

“Hey, did you want to hang out today?”

There was silence on the line for a beat or two. Long enough that Eddie feared the line had gone dead.

“I–I’d like that,” Steve finally stammered out. “Do you want to hang out at my place or yours?”

Eddie hummed like he was thinking about it, but secretly he was doing a happy dance. “Is yours okay? My uncle Wayne is sleeping right now because he has to work.”

“Are you going to feel comfortable coming over in your van?” Steve asked, a little hesitant and shy.

Eddie frowned for a moment before he realized what Steve meant. “I’m borrowing Wayne’s truck, it’s newer and in better condition. As long as I get back before he goes into work, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Come on over whenever you want. I’ll be here all day.”

Eddie fist pumped. Seriously the D&D gods must really be in favor of him hanging out with Steve if everything kept lining up so fucking perfectly.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

They said their goodbyes and Eddie hung up. He went into the front of the trailer and gently shook Wayne awake.

Wayne rubbed his eye a moment. “You heading out?”

He nodded. “I’m taking your truck, but I’ll be back before you have to go.”

Wayne waved him off. “Go have fun. I’ll just borrow your van. It won’t kill me if I take it this once.”

Eddie kissed his forehead and told him he was the best. Wayne buried under covers grumbling about having his image ruined, to Eddie’s cackling glee.

****

Wayne’s truck was a bronze 1973 Ford F150 with a white camper shell. It was hideous as fuck, but respectable and serviceable and the damn thing ran like a dream. Best part was that it wouldn’t stick out in neighborhood like Steve’s.

Eddie pulled up to the curb and parked, hopping out of the truck. He locked it up tight and came up to the door.

He stuck the little heart on the door and then knocked. While he waited he pulled the paper off the door.

Steve threw open the door and smiled. Then he looked down at the heart in Eddie’s hand, eyes wide.

“I found it on your door just now,” Eddie replied with a grin. “Good thing I came over, huh? Otherwise it might have been hanging there for awhile and you would have never have known.”

Steve blinked and then his smile grew. “Yeah, triple bonus because it’s supposed to rain tonight.”

Eddie beamed at him and followed him inside.

“My parents are gone until the weekend so make yourself at home,” Steve said, indicating the room to his right.

Eddie frowned and tilted his head to the side. “Isn’t already the weekend?”

He flopped on the large beige sofa and looked up at Steve expectantly. Steve padded over to sit down next to him.

“My dad is taking my mom to Paris for Valentine’s day so they won’t be home until late Friday early Saturday if they come home at all.”

“That sucks, man.”

Steve shrugged. He plucked the heart from Eddie’s grasp.

“Oh, it’s another Kas one,” he said with a soft smile. “These aren’t as awkward as the others I’ve gotten.”

Eddie huffed a laugh. “You get some pretty awkward hearts there, Stevie?”

“These are high school students and very few of them have any kind of social skill,” he said with a snort. “They’re almost all awkward as fuck, dude.”

“You get any red hearts?” Eddie asked, far more curious than sane.

Steve shook his head. “They aren’t handing those out until Thursday. And to be honest, I’m not expecting any.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “You don’t think that the female masses at our great school aren’t going to give Steve Harrington a single red heart? There must be some that see past the bullshit social mores.”

He just shrugged. He set the heart down on the coffee table and then picked up Eddie’s hand. It took every ounce of will power that Eddie had not to read into that.

“I always wondered about this ring,” he said softly. “It’s so unlike the other rings you have. It isn’t big or flashy, it’s not over the top. The others are a pig, a skull, and a coffin but this is just a simple gemstone. So beautiful.”

Christ! If Eddie had been a cartoon steam would have been coming out of his ears.

“It was my mama’s,” he said just as soft. “My Uncle Wayne hid from my dad so he couldn’t sell it for drugs. He gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. It was supposed to be a graduation present.”

“It’s exquisite, Eds,” Steve breathed. “My mom has a lot of jewelry, but nothing like this. It’s all over the top and gaudy. I’m glad your uncle was able to keep it safe for you.”

If Eddie could have turned any redder, he’d be a tomato. “Thanks.”

They were silent for a moment and then Steve cleared his throat and sat against the arm of the sofa. Still nearby by but no longer pressed to Eddie’s side. His poor frazzled brain wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“We could watch movies,” Steve suggested. “Or I’ve got some board games around here somewhere.”

Eddie straightened up. “I’ll tell you what. I pick the movie and you pick the game and we can do both at the same time.”

Steve brightened. “I like that idea. Pick one you’ve seen so we don’t have to pay attention to it if we don’t want to and I’ll grab the game.”

Eddie agreed and wandered over to the cabinet that held the Harrington family VHS tapes. They had a lot of sports movies and family friendly stuff. A bit of Disney but nothing since Steve turned twelve. A couple of westerns, too.

He picked a western that he could tolerate and slipped into in the player. He turned on the TV and let it play through the trailers at the beginning.

Steve came out with Life. “Whatcha pick?”

Eddie told him as they both set up the game. Steve nodded approvingly. Westerns weren’t his thing either, but “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly” had a good plot.

Eddie won. Steve kept landing on all the children places and had to grab a second car just to hold all of them.

Steve laughed. “Now there’s the dream, a good paying job, six kids, and Winnebago.”

“No mention of a wife there, Stevie,” Eddie said, nudging his shoulder with his own.

“I’m waiting to see if my partner is male or female,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie put the now boxed up game on the coffee table and sat back up on the sofa. “I know I’m shit at school, but I’m pretty sure two dudes can’t make babies.”

“I’d adopt all the ones like me,” Steve said. “The ones with shit parents who only care about how a child makes them look good and not about raising someone with love.”

“Sounds good, Stevie.”

Soon it as time for Eddie to leave and Steve went back to put the game away. When he picked up the box, the little pink heart fluttered to the ground.

-Stevie Watching you make the best of out shit situation, inspires me to be a better person. Kas

Steve smiled down at the paper with a wistful sigh. He looked up out the window to where Eddie was pulling out of his driveway.

And not for the first time he wished it was Eddie giving him the Kas hearts.

****

Part 8

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @spectrum-spectre

2- @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

3- @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv

4- @wonderland-girl143-blog @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @fullpoetrybread

7- @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13

8- @skyewaytohell @swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234

9- @dotdot-wierdlife @ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself

10- @dam28lh

[teddylovestea]

welcome to hell, my little lord

[queenie-ofthe-void]

The Babysitter Chronicles - Henderson

Steve POV 5+1 (immediately follows s2) || wc: 1.8k || full fic ao3

Henderson || Mayfield pt 1 / Mayfield pt 2 || Sinclair || Wheeler || Byers || +1 Hopper

~~~

This has been the worst week of Steve’s life.

Not only does Nancy think he’s bullshit, he found out she never actually loved him, she cheated on him, and she partially blames him for Barb’s death.

He was almost eaten alive by alternate dimension monster demodogs, almost died at the hands of Billy fucking Hargrove, almost died in the backseat of Billy’s car, and then almost died again in the tunnels. 

He’s pretty sure he has a serious concussion and a broken nose. The stitches on his forehead are starting to itch. He’s had a migraine every day since, and there’s ringing in his ears.

Steve honestly thought he could put all of this Upside-Down shit behind him. Pack it away in a tiny box and move on. Yet he was dragged into it once again, forced to protect kids he barely knows from both monsters and humans. 

He deserves to get paid for this shit, to be honest. 

He’s got no friends to sit with at lunch, no girlfriend to love him, and no parents at home to take care of him.

After spending the week at home alone, wallowing and recovering, he found himself thinking of the kids. It was the first time he felt anything other than misery and physical pain. But they were big, complicated emotions that he’s still untangling. He’s been able to pick out fear and anxiety, annoyance, exasperation, and– surprisingly– fondness. When he thinks of the kids, he’s hit with a surge of fierce protectiveness and devotion.

He’s got nothing to show for his life and no one to spend it with. Those kids, though, needed him in a way he’s never felt before. It was life or death, and they trusted him to keep them safe. Now that it’s over, even If he isn’t necessarily wanted, maybe he could at least continue being useful.

Which is how he finds himself pulling up to the same curb as he did a week ago. At least this time he’s not here about the Upside-Down; although, knowing Dustin, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Steve!” Dustin’s running out the front door and down the driveway in just a t-shirt and sweatpants despite the chilly November morning. He plows into his chest at full speed and almost sends them both toppling over. “Steve, holy shit you’re here! Oh shit your face.”

“Hey man, language ok?” Jesus, the mouth on this kid. “Relax twerp, ease up on the hug, you're killing my ribs.”

Dustin immediately drops his arms and backs away, looking cowed. Steve’s going to have to work on his approach, apparently the kid’s sensitive. Or maybe Steve’s still a bit of a bully, another part of himself that needs to be fixed.

“It’s ok, Dustin, don’t worry about it. Just a little sore still.”

He perks back up again, bouncing up and down on his heels. The little gremlin’s toothless smile is so damn cute Steve wants to give him a noogie. 

“Ok then,” Dustin replies, “so why are you here?”

“Uhhh, actually I’m here to talk to your mom.” Feeling suddenly awkward, Steve runs a nervous hand through his hair. He hisses as it pulls on his stitches.

“My mom?” he asks, incredulously. “Why? What’s going on?”

Steve supposes he should’ve thought of this. It makes more sense to talk with Dustin before actually asking his mom for permission, but he hadn’t practiced this part. Now here he is, facing down an over-dramatic middle schooler and he’s actually nervous about it.

“Yeah, I kind of noticed you’re an only child, and you don’t really have a dad around.”

Dustin’s face falls, morphing into a scowl. Shit, Steve’s barely said one word and he’s already messing this up.

“Not all of us have rich parents who buy us whatever they want,” the kid huffs, crossing his arms and kicking non-existent rocks.

“No wait, ok look I’m sorry Dustin, that’s not what I meant. I’m not really great at talking about stuff like this. The important stuff anyways. Let me try again. Please?”

The kid’s still scowling, but his body relaxes a bit and he nods.

“Ok I’ll start over,” Steve continues. “Even though we were dealing with all of the Upside-Down shit and it was literally the worst week of my entire life, I enjoyed having you around. I’d sleep better at night if I knew you twerps are safe and I know you don’t really have anyone around other than your mom and the other gremlins–”

“The Party.”

Steve stares at him, mouth hanging open as he’s cut off mid-sentence. He’s in the middle of pouring his heart out to this mouthy ten year old and he’s got the audacity to interrupt him.

“The what now?”

“The Party, Steve.” The little shit’s tone is overflowing with condescension. “The group. We’re called the Party. You know, like in DnD?”

“What the hell is a dandy?”

“You, kind of,” Dustin mutters under his breath. Steve doesn’t really know what that means and coming from this kid he probably doesn’t want to. “D and D stands for Dungeons and Dragons, Steve. It’s a role playing game.”

“Whoa, alright I think you’re a little too young to be playing role playing games.”

“I’ve literally been playing for three years.”

“You’ve been roleplaying since you were seven?”

“I’m thirteen Steve!” He’s pretty sure Dustin’s screeching can be heard from the other side of town. “What are we even talking about right now? Why are you here, at my home, looking for my mom?”

“I want to be your goddamned babysitter!” Steve screams back. He takes a deep breath– in and out. This kid’s going to be the death of him, he just knows it.

He looks down to find Dustin’s eyes wide and mouth formed in a perfect oval. The kid’s shocked, either from what Steve said or that he literally shouted it in his face. Now it’s Steve’s turn to kick rocks. He shuffles back and forth, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from tugging his hair again.

“You guys almost died, man,” Steve says softly, avoiding eye contact. It makes this part easier. “You almost died, and if I hadn’t been there, I have no idea what would’ve happened. Maybe you all would’ve been fine, I don’t know. But it was my job to keep you safe, and you don’t have anyone else around except your mom and the grem– I mean the Party– to look out for you. I had to quit basketball thanks to Billy, and Nancy broke up with me. My parents are literally never home, so I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands. Figure I could use some of that time keeping you out of trouble.”

Dustin’s face hasn’t changed, still devoid of any emotion other than shock. God damnit, Steve really messed this up. He looks around and rubs the back of his neck. His skin’s prickling with nerves as he starts to sweat and he takes a step backwards towards the safety of his car. 

This was a stupid idea. Why would any of these kids want anything to do with him? He’s nothing like them: smart, nerdy, can save the world without taking a beating. Steve thought he could be useful, worthwhile to someone– to Dustin. He should know better by now.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just going to go,” Steve says. But as he turns to leave, Dustin slams into him once more. Steve’s breath whooshes from his lungs and a lightning strike of pain travels up his back. He thinks he’s shaking from the pain, except his crewneck is starting to feel damp against the kid’s face and he can see Dustin’s shoulders practically vibrating. “Hey, Dustin. Hey it’s ok, are you alright? What’s wrong man, talk to me.”

Dustin doesn’t look up, just keeps his face buried in Steve’s sweatshirt and grips him tighter. It hurts and it aches and it pulls at all of his injuries. He still lets Dustin hold on for as long as he needs to. 

There’s a slight movement out of the corner of his good eye, and he glances up towards the house to see a small, curvy woman smiling at them through the window. Not wanting to dislodge Dustin, he slightly lifts his hand to wave. He’s surprised when she honest to God clutches her heart and wipes what he assumes is a tear from her eye.

Steve’s already worried he screwed this whole thing up. He definitely didn’t think it would happen in front of a goddamned audience. 

The kid’s still holding on, but the shaking has subsided and he’s breathing easier. Steve smashes his hat to ruffle his hair, and Dustin backs off with a shriek. His face is covered in red blotches matching his bloodshot eyes. Steve looks down at his sweatshirt to find a tears-snot-spit wet patch stained into his chest.

“Dude, gross,” Steve huffs. At least he’s wearing an undershirt. Dustin just chuckles. 

“Like friends?” Dustin asks, still wiping at his face. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, hanging out. Whenever you’re not busy, I mean.”

It’s Steve’s turn to feel a burn behind his eyes. Relief fills him with warmth as his growing anxiety is washed away. Dustin wants him around. He wants to spend time with him and Steve never really thought he’d get this far. All he had was a half-baked idea to serve himself up for the one thing he knows he’s good for. And he was wanted.

He reaches out and pulls the kid back in for a hug, holding him tight despite the pain. Dustin starts trying to push off, so Steve flips him around under his armpit in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles roughly into the top of Dustin’s hat as he starts to screech again. He huffs, straightening out his hat, still sporting that iconic toothless smile. 

“Now,” Steve says, “all I have to do is ask your mom.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dustin replies, turning around to lead Steve towards the house. He sees the curtains pulled roughly shut and the silhouette of the woman heading toward the front door. “She already knows all about you. I told her what happened. Well, the government version.”

“You told your mom about me?” Steve asks in awe.

“Duh, why wouldn’t I? Sure, you got your ass handed to you, but it was totally awesome!”

“Right,” Steve scoffs. He’ll let that one slide for now. “You’re sure she won’t mind?”

“Mom’s going to love you. She’s been asking about you all week.”

If she’s anything like her son, then hopefully Steve’s got nothing to worry about. And maybe if he can watch one kid, he can talk to the rest of their parents– look after the whole Party of gremlins. He can host after school hangouts and movie nights, sleepovers in the living room and pool parties in the summer. There’s the beginnings a plan forming in his head, which parents and kids he needs to talk to next. 

When he’s met with Mrs. Henderson’s warm smile, he thinks maybe the rest of this year will be alright.

[aidaran-alha]

A gleafer based fanfic! Go check her tumblr and her patreon, she’s totally worth it: 

https://www.tumblr.com/gleafer

https://www.patreon.com/posts/when-that-thing-98602324

One day Crowley was bound to drink himself to another dimension. What he didn't expect was to find another Crowley and Aziraphale there: two alternate versions of him and the angel that had somehow made things work between them.

---------------------- “Oh, poor dear.” Again Aziraphale pulled him close. “Believe me when I say your Aziraphale went to Heaven to protect you. He does love you.”

“You can’t know. You don’t know him.”

“Maybe. But I know myself. And I wouldn’t sacrifice this place of mine for anything other than you, Crowley.”

“He’s not you. I don’t have what you two have. He didn’t want me.”

Crowley had probably never looked less cool than he was looking at this moment. Shivering, mouth closed in a thin line and trembling. His eyes burned so much he’d had to close them while the tears flowed, clinging to Aziraphale and the Other Crowley as pathetic little noises escaped his throat.

He was sober for what he felt was the first time in months, and he was suffering it. He was overflowing with pain, anger, envy, and hate.

With love. Need. Want. 

[ineffableclassics]

Aziraphale discovers that being the Supreme Archangel of Heaven, in Heaven, means that one hears direct prayers. He makes this discovery when a lonely and heartbroken Crowley thinks about his angel during a sad wank session. Evocative imagery, yearning, and visceral appreciation and longing for him do a great deal to bring perspective to an angel who felt cornered into painful choices.

Fuck this, he's going home.

Words: 3,070

Status: Complete

Rating: Explicit

@sodiumazideandothertoxins

Art Credit: Consolation by Joseph Christian Leyendecker

[ckducky]

Kara shows us how it's done.

Not me shamelessly cashing in on my most popular fan-comic

[pharlapcartoonist]

Since you seem to love my minicomics Too Late, I've made two more pages

[deeennnyyy]

[devondespresso]

Just Let Me Come Home

T | 2850 words | Stomarol, post s2, pre-relationship | also on ao3 | cw: very minor implied child neglect

Gift for @momotonescreaming Happy very late Birthday Momo!!! STWG prompt: Home

Thank you so much to @pearynice for betaing!!

Hawkins’ sun sets early in November.

When school starts tapering off into winter break, so does the light each day, the world getting darker until it looks like midnight at six in the afternoon and no one can see Steve riding shotgun in the police chief's car.

It’s been a hell of a week. Or, more accurately, one hellish night with consequences bleeding into the days after, until the bruising on Steve’s face starts fading into uglier muddier colors and Hopper decides he’s been waiting in the hospital long enough, telling him to start the mental list for what he’ll pack in his overnight bag.

Steve looks out the window as Hop drives, letting the cold glass ice the headache pressing against his forehead, watching the lamplit storefronts as they drive, staring out as the occasional passerby glances over the car, unseeing, before turning back to whatever they were doing before.

It’s dark. They can’t see much, and they don’t really need to. They don’t really care.

Which makes it awfully convenient that hell keeps coming to Hawkins just after dark. It brings a lot less questions that he can’t answer, about nausea and terror that he can’t explain, that he wouldn’t know how to even if he could. 

It’s convenient. Gives Steve less people to worry about, less names to remember when things go bump in the night.

Hop drives past the end of Main street, the end of paved sidewalks and streetlights. He stops at a four-way to let another car turn, then takes a left down a darker road.

House lights take the place of street lamps, windows flaunting squares of lustrous orange light in every house they pass. The distance makes the light hazier, easier on the ache behind his eyes.

The street is familiar, more than just small-town same-roads familiar. It becomes depressingly familiar as the Perkins' house appears ahead, that feeling more of an indicator than the house’s appearance right now. Light fills almost every damn window, except for Carol’s bedroom upstairs.

Her powder blue convertible is missing from the driveway, too, and its absence leaves the whole house sickeningly monochrome.

It's probably in Tommy's driveway. He could check to be sure, they’ll pass by it in a block or two.

As quick as it appeared, Carol’s house disappears again, passing behind them just like every other house on the block.

Steve closes his eyes.

Keeps them closed, until the car slows drastically but doesn't feel the turn into the driveway.

Steve opens his eyes, glances towards Hopper and finds him looking out into the dark ahead, warily. Steve follows his gaze, and his stomach turns.

There’s a powder blue convertible stalling in front of his house—roof uncharacteristically up and hiding the interior—haphazardly parked half off the road. The people in the front seat are arguing, and there’s smoke billowing out the back still like they’re ready to take off at any second.

Hop rolls closer, headlights lighting up everything. Steve leans forward to get a better look, and Tommy’s face turns around in the driver’s seat to look back at them.

Tommy’s eyes pass over Steve, unseeing, then skipping by Hop too as he just sees a cop car and panics. He gets ready to drive off, only to be stopped by Carol’s hand from the passenger’s seat. 

It's uncomfortable just looking at them. Tommy is awkwardly crammed into Carol’s front seat like he’s too big for it—maybe because he is, maybe it's still adjusted for Carol—and Carol looks like she's fighting the seatbelt that's keeping her from jumping across the dash and taking the wheel herself. 

And what’s worse, they’re sticking with it. They’re parked on the side of the road and yet neither get out to switch seats and go back to what they're used to.

Hop shifts the car into park, and Steve glances over to find Hopper already looking at him, eyebrows raised and quietly asking. 

Steve turns back to the car in front of them for a second. Carol glances back from her spot in the passenger’s seat too, then turns to her real objective of saying something to Tommy. Something Tommy, apparently, doesn’t want to hear. Has already heard several times, if the overplayed frustration is anything to go by.

Steve sighs.

“I’ve got it.” Steve mutters, and ducks down to find his keys in his bag.

Hopper doesn’t say anything and goes back to eyeing Carol's car, but when Steve sits back up he shoots him another uncertain look.

“You’ll know if I change my mind.” Steve says, and gets out of the car.

The headlights sting his eyes even from behind so Steve squints and turns his head away from them, watches his step and shoves his keys into his pockets as he walks over. A car door in front of him opens, letting the tail end of a very annoyed “Carol!” slip out before it slams shut again and the familiar clacking of boots makes its way over to him. 

Steve looks up properly and Carol stops, squinting from the headlights, staring at the bruising on his face openly, shock softening a very reassuring grimace. Steve closes the last bit of distance so he doesn't have to be loud, doesn’t make this any bigger than it has to be.

“Can this happen at literally any other time?” 

Carol stares at the worst spots of his face for another second, trying to juggle new thoughts with whatever the hell she was planning to say, but a voice from the other side of her car beats her to it.

“Steve?”

He and Carol both look over at Tommy, standing from the driver's seat to get a better look over the hood of the car, equally taken aback, if only for a second.

Tommy jogs over—that slowed down jog to keep from looking too uncool—and stops, a little further away than Carol is, keeping a cold distance. It nicks an old nerve, one he's used to having hit, but now it’s fanning a bitter flame that he’s happy to indulge.

“What the hell happened to you?” Tommy says.

“Why do you care?”

“Steve.” Carol snaps at him.

“No, actually, what are either of you even doing here?”

“Looking for you, asshole.” Carol says, and takes barely a step forward. 

“Carol dragged me with her.” Tommy says, with that light, cocky tone he’d use in the hallways or on the court or in the locker room, where everythings a goddamn joke.

“Tommy.” Carol hisses, hitting Tommy’s arm and Tommy scowls at her.

“Well that makes this easy then.” Steve says, letting bored disdain leak out with every breath. He directs an extra bit of bitterness Tommy’s way, then turns back towards his house.

“Steve–” 

Tommy grabs his arm. Reaches out and grabs for him. 

Steve turns back and looks down at Tommy’s hand on his forearm, pointedly, then back up at Tommy. Challenging, to let Tommy know he’s doing it—reaching out and touching another boy—and waits for Tommy to let go or pretend it’s more aggressive than he meant it.

Tommy’s hand slips away and falls to the side.

“Look, man,” Tommy starts, “We heard about Wheeler–”

“Yeah, I know.” Steve says, and even though his voice wavers Steve tries to make it harsh, be cold and detached like he would be if they were in the halls right now. “You just know everything there is to know about Nancy Wheeler these days.”

Carol makes a face at him and Tommy scowls again, and it feels like so much, feels familiar and nauseating, soothing and insufferable.

“Man, I’m fucking trying, alri–”

“To do what?”

Tommy pauses, face still scowling but his eyes searching, confused.

“What are you trying to do?” Steve asks again.

Tommy looks away, shoves his hands into his jacket pocket. “Fucking talk, man, what…” Tommy smiles, shoots him a look of casual apathy, doing it on purpose now. “What does it look like I’m doin’.”

Steve tamps down a curled lip, keeping mostly neutral as he stares at Tommy. Making a show of listening even after he stopped talking, waiting for either another deflection or a real answer.

It takes Tommy a good few seconds to realize Steve isn’t planning on playing along. He connects the dots and drops the casual act, apathy hardening into irritation, and refuses to say anything.

Steve glances over to Carol, standing off to the side and mostly watching Tommy. She catches Steve’s eye, but with nothing written on her face. 

She looks at Tommy again but doesn’t try to intervene, doesn’t try to say anything.

Steve turns again quietly, away from the cars and headlights, and starts up his driveway. Gets a little ways away before Tommy does anything about it.

“Steve, fucking– hold on!” 

Steve turns before Tommy can reach him, catching him off guard, so instead of grabbing Steve’s arm Tommy gestures around with that energy, pointing to him and Carol and right at Steve’s chest.  

“We came out here because it was always the three of us, always! You, me, and Carol. And then you ran away, you keep fucking off to do your own thing like neither of us ever mattered.”

“So you came here to yell at me.” 

“I came here because you sure as hell weren’t coming back! You were getting off on ‘caring about other people’ but you don’t give two shits about us!”

Tommy lets the words hit, then loses steam with a loaded huff. He stares Steve down like Steve’s dragging the word out of him, like Steve’s the one forcing this conversation to happen.

“And you’re happier now.” 

Tommy looks sick with it, keeps channeling anger over the sickness and it’s working, he’s yelling, but Steve can’t stop seeing what’s under there. 

“But we still give a shit about you, and Carol dragged both our asses over here cause she’s the only one with enough balls to admit it.”

Tommy’s hand moves again, barely a reach that’s pulled back, a small reflex that Tommy probably doesn't notice, but Steve does, only because he’s looking for it.

A lump forms and clogs Steve’s throat—and Tommy sees it, something of it because he lets the anger melt out, smooths it down a little until–

“You tell me to fuck off and I’ll do it, but you’re going to let me fucking try first.”

–until he just looks like Tommy again.

Steve crashes forward and pulls Tommy in tight for a hug. Wraps his arms around him, ducks his face down into Tommy’s shoulder, half for himself, half as a final test, to see if Tommy would let him– let himself give as much of a shit as he used to.

Tommy jumps but grabs onto him with that reflex, wraps his arms around Steve's back and holds him just as tight, maybe tighter. Tears well up in Steve’s eyes, the treacherous kind that aren’t asking if or when they could fall, so Steve buries them in the collar of Tommy's shirt.

Tommy laughs a little, light with surprise and wonder and fucking joy, rumbling soothingly from his chest, from his throat right by Steve’s ear, and it makes Steve smile, too. Smiling so wide, even as tears fall freely and he silently chokes on his relief.

Tommy presses his face, too, into Steve’s shoulder, not quite tall enough to tuck his chin over. He presses his smile into the collar of Steve’s shirt and leans his head against Steve’s, so much softer, so much more confident, and more truly at ease than Steve’s seen him before.

Steve takes in a deep breath, slow and long so it feels like enough, and revels in the steadiness,  the warmth around him. And for the first time in a while, it’s easier to keep himself upright.

Another hand settles gently on his shoulder, light enough that it doesn’t hurt the bruises that have to be somewhere around there.

Steve pulls back, just enough to stand up straight and see Carol keeping her hand on Steve’s shoulder, looking slightly worried and only getting worse when he meets her eyes.

Steve shakes his head, wipes the wetness from his eyes, cringing when he presses against bruises, just making more tears fall.

Steve swallows hard and takes a deep breath again.

“I missed you guys, too.”

Carol moves fast, pulls him into her own tight hug immediately, squeezes a choked sob out of him instead of words. He hugs her back tightly, buries the lower half of his face in her hair, and gets a strong whiff of Farrah Fawcett hairspray.

Carol gives him one more squeeze before her grip mellows out into something gentler, decidedly gentle, and just as steady. And she stays there, face resting on his shirt, right over his heart like it's just as much for her as it is for him. His throat clogs up again, and Steve doesn't think he’s ever been happier.

After a moment or so, Carol mutters something that Steve doesn’t catch.

“What?” Tommy asks before Steve can.

Carol huffs with so much of her signature annoyance that Steve can't help but snort to himself too. She moves back but with an arm still tucked around Steve, shoots him a quick glare that doesn’t hide any of her fondness—if she was even trying to hide it—and turns to Tommy to enunciate everything at him.

“I said, it took you two long enough.”

 Tommy rolls his eyes immediately, like he’s heard something like this a million times before.

“Yeah, thanks for helping, by the way.” 

“You’re welcome.” Carol says, all over-innocent and cheery and it makes Tommy roll his eyes harder, “You two needed someone sensible around. All this emotional constipation really isn't a great look.”

Steve wrinkles his nose at the word choice while Tommy scoffs.

“Yeah, you’re real mature, like you didn’t bite Nichole Turner’s head off for finding that old swim team hoodie you won’t get rid of.”

“Tommy!”

Carol hits Tommy’s arm again, betrayed and annoyed but not trying to deny it.

“You kept that?”

Carol glances over before resolutely avoiding eye contact and shrugs, but doesn’t refute it.

“Awww Caroooool,” he says, drawing the words out comically, putting an arm around her, “You missed—” 

“It’s a sweatshirt.”

“You missed meeeee.” He sings and hugs her again, playing up the schmaltzy sweet flair.

“You two are such—” she starts, then sighs heavily before giving up, dropping her head to lean into Steve’s hug.

Steve smiles and looks back over to Tommy—to give Carol her moment to recover—and catches a soft smile on his face, too.

Tommy’s eyes flick up to meet Steve’s and he pauses like he knows he’s been caught.

“So…” Steve starts.

“Yeah.” Tommy says, landing a hand on his shoulder, casual except for how Tommy keeps it there, normal except for how it’s making Steve melt. “You gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. I'm gonna head inside—”

“And find a bag of peas or something,” Carol interrupts, pulling away to give Steve another look, “I mean, like, in a nice way–”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” 

“You look like you’ve been hit by a car.”

“Yeah.” he laughs.

“Did you?”

“No, no…” Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s uh… long story.”

Carol raises an eyebrow, and when Steve turns to Tommy instead he finds him also giving Steve a searching look. Steve smiles a little, enjoying the care despite the context and the subjects he has to breach at some point—god especially when it comes to school again, basketball’s about to be a fucking mess—

“I’ll tell you guys later. Promise.” He says and he means it, even if he can only throw together some half baked explanation—maybe blame a little more on Hargrove than he really needs to—he wants them around enough to know. And also, maybe selfishly, wants them around enough to know when he’s lying, to know when there’s things he won’t say.

But for now, Tommy and Carol both accept the promise for later. And Steve nods over towards the front door.

Carol takes the silent invitation immediately, heads up the dark driveway and to the front of the house with Steve and Tommy not far behind her.

Carol waits by the steps for them as they catch up and lets Steve go ahead to the door, whispering something cheeky and teasing to Tommy that catches him off guard, makes him stutter for a second before muttering something snippy back.

Steve bites back a laugh and turns to the door. He finds his keys in his pocket and picks out the house key smoothly as Tommy and Carol linger behind him, their presence and their voices calming something in him, making the gaping void behind them feel less vast, less pressing.

He clicks the lock and opens the door wide and it’s somehow darker than what they’re already standing in.

Steve wanders in blindly, and Tommy and Carol follow right behind.

[coolittleguy]

The difference of pre season 2 and post is wild dude

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 5

I have no restraint. I have NO restraint. I HAVE NO RESTRAINT!!! So guess who starting writing a SEQUEL to this because she was feeling too sad to write Sweet Home Indiana? Yup! I would apologize, but this story is too cute for words.

We have a mild panic attack about the ending of the chapter from Steve, Eddie's plan, and Steve accepting an offer that made mostly in jest, but also in deep earnest.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!!!

But if the people on my list that haven't interacted on my stuff lately don't reply by Sunday slots may open up. So don't despair just yet if you want to be on the list and can't.

****

Steve banged his head on his locker in frustration. Why did he do that? Why did he tell Eddie he was interested in boys, too? Why did he trust the other boy to have his back? Especially when no one else seemed to.

He sighed.

He wrenched open his locker and a little pink heart fluttered to the floor. He frowned as he picked it up.

They weren’t going to hand out the hearts until Valentine’s Day so what was this then?

-Stevie

I like the way you’re kind even when it doesn’t benefit you.

Kas

Steve blinked down at the little heart in confusion. It wasn’t the exactly the same color as the hearts they were going to give out for the holiday. But it was close. He rubbed his thumb over the sender’s name.

Kas.

He knew it wasn’t a real name, having recently poured over the yearbook. So it had to be a reference to something, but what he didn’t know. He stuck it in his jacket pocket and grabbed what he needed for his next class, vowing to worry about it later.

As he sat in his chemistry class waiting for it to start he pulled it out of his pocket to look at it again. The pen was red ink and bold. Steve found himself smiling at the strange little pink heart.

Suddenly it was ripped out of his hand.

His head snapped up to see Tommy H. standing there with it in his hand. “Someone is sending Harrington Valentine’s hearts?”

“Give it back, Tommy,” Steve growled. “It’s none of your business. Not anymore.”

Tommy looked him in the eye before tossing it to the ground and walking off. “Whatever.”

Steve bent over to pick it up.

“Some girl named Kassy or whatever,” Tommy was telling Nicole. “Could be anyone from the younger grades.”

“I suppose so,” she said, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “But anyone with sense would know he’s the plague now.”

Tina rolled her eyes. “Just because he refuses to suck either of you two off doesn’t mean he’s still not the hottest guy in school.”

Tommy rounded on her and called her a bitch.

She just scoffed and swung back around just as the teacher walked into the room. The tardy bell rang and he called the class to order, effectively squashing all gossip.

Steve ducked his head to hide his smile. He might feel a bit bitter that it was her party that Nancy threw their relationship in his face at, but it wasn’t her fault his girlfriend had gotten so pissed drunk that she lost her ironclad control. And right now he was feeling especially grateful to her for that comment.

He managed to get through his class just from riding that high alone.

His last class was algebra and it really should have been made illegal by now. The way the numbers and letters seemed to float off of the page as he struggled to parse their meaning. He just had to pass one quarter of this shit and he could graduate.

So he put his head down to learn and just suffer through it.

After school, he got to his locker and knelt down to open it.

Again a pink heart fluttered out of it. But this time it had a couple of friends. Steve stuck them in his jacket pocket again and exchanged books. He grabbed his English and history homework so that he could get them done for tomorrow.

He opened the back door of his car and threw in his backpack. He went to open his door when Eddie was suddenly at his side.

He leaned up against the door, preventing Steve from opening it.

“So the king swings for both teams?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Steve looked around, but they were alone for the most part, so he just shrugged. “Some guys are hot and for some reason I can’t fathom, I trust you not have it all over the school by lunch tomorrow.”

Eddie chuckled and crossed his legs at the ankles. “I wouldn’t do that to ya.”

“Yeah and why would that be?” Steve asked turning around and sticking his hands in his front pockets.

“That would be because it would be hypocritical of me to go spreading around the school someone likes guys,” he said, bumping their shoulders together.

Steve looked at him for a long time before he nodded. “You know by now I don’t put much stock into rumors. I did that once and got my shit rocked for it. Lesson learned, man.”

“I heard about the infamous Byers left hook,” Eddie agreed. “That was some pretty major shit rocking.”

The jock rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he was my first concussion.”

The older boy looked up at the sky as he thought about it and then nodded. “Billy Hargrove would be round two, I’m assuming?”

Steve nodded and then threw his head back. “This year has gone from bad to worse and I’m barely keeping my head above water.”

Eddie hummed his agreement. It really has seemed like Steve couldn’t catch a break. “I feel that. I’m really struggling this year. Last year I didn’t graduate because I so focused on getting out of here, making it with my music that I forgot the promise I made to my mom that I would. Graduate I mean. But this year is just hell.”

“That sucks, Eds,” he agreed.

“You think you’re going to graduate?”

“God, I hope so,” Steve murmured, collapsing against the side of his car. “I just want to get out of this town.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. “Where would you even go, man?”

“I’d pick a direction and just drive for as long as I could,” he admitted softly. “I just need to be as far away from this place as I can.”

The metalhead nodded. “If we both graduate we should hop into my van and just run for the coast.”

Steve smiled fondly. “I think I’d like that.”

Eddie pushed himself off the car and then waved Steve goodbye.

The younger boy got into his car with a sigh of relief. Not only did Eddie promise not to out him, he came out to Steve, too. Now it was mutually assured destruction.

Steve smiled and started the car for home. Maybe this year was starting to get a little better.

****

Eddie shoved his hands in his back pockets as he made his way to his van. He didn’t know what possessed him to ask Steve to runaway with him or what possessed Steve to agree but it left a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest.

He hauled himself into the van and sat there for a moment just thinking about it. Of course that meant graduating himself, so he would have to focus on that. His van roared to life and he drove off.

It took him a couple of tries but he finally found the construction paper he needed. He had even found some black construction paper that he was going to use to make little paper bats to tape on the inside of his locker to make it less miserable.

Especially as he was told he couldn’t have his metal band posters up in there. They were too “evil” and “Satanic” and he should be more “Christ like” as if they were epitome of Christian virtue with all the hate they had for anyone not like them.

But Eddie got down to work and started making as many pink hearts as he could. He had thought briefly about adding a couple of red hearts in the mix, but he thought that was a step too far. He didn’t want to get Steve’s hopes up that he had multiple crushes on him if that wasn’t true.

He still planned on giving Steve his one red heart that he had bought. That wasn’t in question. He had already filled it out and returned it to the great big baskets that had been in the main hall.

It simply read:

Stevie,

You make being in this town worth living in,

Love,

Kas

He let out a slow shuddering breath. That was one of the scariest things he had to do since choosing to live with an uncle he had only met twice his entire life over being in the system. He knew his life was infinitely greater being with Uncle Wayne and he hoped this would yield a similar result.

Because he had made a promise and with all signs pointing toward Steve at least being receptive to a date, he had to shoot his shot and hope for the best.

He had made roughly fifty or so of the pink hearts and set about dividing them into four piles. With Jeff, Gareth, and Brian offering to help with the friendship hearts he wanted to make sure everyone got a few of them. Plus it made it easier to come up with things. Because even if they came up with similar ideas, they at least would be phrased slightly different so Steve wouldn’t figure it out.

He also had the idea of using pseudonyms so that it wasn’t all anonymous and initials, though there would some of those too.

But it was time for band practice, so he gathered up his things and the hearts and trotted off to his van, a wave and goodbye to Wayne on his way out.

****

Steve finally opened the other three hearts. Two were anonymous but the third surprisingly was from Tina.

It read it in the tiniest print that was still legible:

Steve,

I know we’re supposed to turn these in or whatever,

But I just wanted to say you’re still A-OK in my book.

-Tina

He blushed. That was nice of her and after she stuck up for him in chemistry, he was feeling a little better about himself.

The other two were just as sweet if a tad unusual in their delivery. The first one said:

Steve,

I’m sorry you lost your crown,

you kept the bullies from being their worst selves.

And the other read:

Steve,

You are a good dude.

Sorry people are shit right now.

Steve shook his head. They were well-tended, he had no doubt but they were odd. Like they were trying to find something nice to say and didn’t know how to word it.

Which, fair.

He knew he had a hard time coming up with complements for the twenty girls he’d picked out for his little project. He had to make sure the message wasn’t creepy or would come across as stalker-y.

He smiled down at the messages. He pulled out a little notebook that he had used to collect all the little things that the kids had given him over the past couple years and put the hearts on their own little page. He carefully put the book back, hidden between two textbooks from his freshman year.

“Steven!” his mom called. “We’re home!”

“Coming, Mom!” he cried, hurrying down the stairs.

****

Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List: Closed

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

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