#ruby writes steddie

[stevebabey]

pre-steddie (its rly scratching the itch atm), steve harrington being a sad drunk :(, angst with a happy ending, 1.4k

If you asked him how it transpired, Eddie couldn’t tell you — but somehow, there’s a drunk Steve Harrington on the Munson’s couch.

Physically, he’d hazard a guess Steve walked all the way from whatever party he’d been at. Which is a concern in itself—either Steve wandered through the woods or he wandered quite some way, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

The why of why Steve’s here—why he chose to sought out Eddie in particular—is another mystery altogether.

If Eddie had to guess, he’d say somewhere between the commonality of crashing at each other’s place to keep the nightmares at bay and a night of drinking is how Steve ended up here.

It’s nearing midnight the clock tells him, blinking red from the microwave. Steve’s holding a glass of water that he’s sipped from only once.

And he’s sad.

Considering it, Eddie hadn’t thought Steve would be a sad drunk. Especially if you consider the sheer amount of parties he threw as a teenager.

It just doesn’t quite fit into his ever changing picture of Steve Harrington. Like a puzzle piece the wrong shape that doesn’t fit with the rest. Happy drunk? Horny drunk? Those made better sense than this.

But then again, Eddie stopped trying to make sense of Steve a couple months after the Vecna-episode of their lives.

(It’s sort of something he really likes about Steve, that he can’t ever really pin him down — that he’s always surprising Eddie.)

Either way, the fact remains that Steve is drunk and Steve is sad.

Eddie just doesn’t know about what.

“C’mon,” Eddie nudges the glass in Steve’s hand gently, the second time tonight. “Gotta drink up, Stevie, lest you risk the wrath of tomorrow’s hangover.”

Steve’s slumped sideways on the couch, not too drunk to be out of it, but evidently rather physically beat. He’s leaning his head up against the ratty leather of the couch, his eyes closed.

Eddie sits opposite him, enough distance to keep it friendly, but close enough to catch the glass if Steve suddenly decides he doesn’t feel like holding it anymore.

He wants to sit closer, wants to maybe even hold Steve’s hand. Cup his face and murmur sweet nothings until sad drunk Steve is replaced by someone happier.

Eddie swallows the desire down, away.

By all accounts, there’s nothing Steve’s said or done to give away his sadness. Eddie only knows he’s sad from that slight downturn of his mouth — the slight jut of his lip. The world’s most adorable pout if it wasn’t being caused for bad reasons, Eddie thinks.

He knows what it looks like because it’s what Steve looks like when he wakes from a nightmare. When he’s properly distressed, thrust to the verge of tears. Eddie knows the sight well. (And Steve knows his.)

On the couch beside him, Steve makes a little noise in response to the nudge. His eyes crease open.

He looks tired. It’s not the exhaustion that comes with terror, with having sleep chased from you, but… bone-deep tiredness.

Eddie’s lip part, unsure if it’s to urge Steve to drink some water again or just to ask what’s wrong when—

“No one wants it.” Steve says, in the smallest voice. It’s barely a whisper.

Eddie’s brows draw together. The sadness in Steve’s words travel out, pushing an ache into his chest.

“Wants what?”

Steve is silent. He’s not looking at Eddie — he wasn’t before, but now his gaze is downcast, studying the glass in his hands. His finger traces the rim.

“Wants what, Steve?” Eddie tries again.

This time, Steve sighs and it looks like it takes the wind out of him completely. “My…”

There’s a crack in his voice. Steve clears his throat and closes his eyes again, this time scrunched up as if he’s resisting the emotion that tries to take over.

“My stupid love. Keep… keep tryna give it, but no one wants to take it.” He inhales jaggedly, turning an inch and pressing further into the couch, like he’s hiding. His voice is muffled and wrecked. “No one wants it.”

Something splinters in Eddie’s chest, slivers of agony burying beneath his skin. He’s speechless.

How can Steve think that? How can he believe that?

“I do,” Eddie says, before realising what’s he’s saying.

Steve stiffens on the couch, tentatively digging his face out from hiding. His downturned eyes still have that warbling sadness and Eddie just needs to make it better — even if it means throwing his pathetic crush under the bus.

“Eddie-” Steve says, wary and tired all at once, as if he’s saying don’t do this, don’t lie to me.

“I do. It sounds lovely,” Eddie insists, completely truthful. “If you want someone to give it to, I’ll take it. I want it.”

Steve eyes him. Some of that melancholy in him has turned to apprehension. He sniffles a bit and sighs again.

“Not- not like that.” Steve murmurs, eyes falling back to the glass in his hands. He speaks with a lilt of embarrassment, as though he thinks it’s shameful to care this much. “Not as a friend, Eddie.”

A stone grows in Eddie’s throat. It’ll hurt like hell to swallow it, to speak, but Steve has always been worth it.

“I know,” Eddie breathes. He can’t quite keep all his nerves out of the words and they jam up in his mouth for a moment. “Not like that, Steve.”

He desperately wants to grab his own hair, to fiddle with it, release some tension, but he also doesn’t want to break the quiet softness between them.

The fridge hums in the silence. The clock on the microwave blinks back midnight.

Wishing hour? Maybe in some myths and stories. Eddie clings it anyway.

Steve’s hazel eyes are a little wider now. A little more awake. He’s picked his head up, no longer leaning against the couch cushions.

“You…”

Freak. Fag. Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies every awful way this could roll, entirely too late. He tenses up, shoulders curling in, a minuscule motion.

But Steve doesn’t look disgusted, he looks a little in disbelief.

“You… want it?” He asks, that same quiet whisper.

And that does a number of Eddie’s heart—the enormity of Steve’s disbelief that someone would want his love, that the rest of it—the semantics, the fact that boys can’t kiss boys—doesn’t even matter to him.

“Yeah,” Eddie croaks. He nods jerkily, the nerves still there, even with Steve’s easy acceptance. “I do. I’d love to have it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. He’s laid his head back down, his hair scrunched up against the leather, but his eyes are still on Eddie. Not scrutinising, just studying. There’s still that hazy look to them, no doubt the alcohol still in his veins.

“I never… didn’t think…” He’s murmuring more to himself. From the concentration of his gaze, he’s thinking hard. He sniffles again, nose twitching and then frowns, eyes cast to the side, before,

“Okay,” Steve says finally, voice quiet. “If you… if you mean it.”

Then he unfurls his hand, the one that had been tracing the glass, and puts it forward. Between them on the couch.

Eddie eyes it, stomach swooping, pulse thudding, and then does what he does best; throws caution to the wind. Steve might hate him tomorrow but tonight, Eddie won’t hide.

Their fingers slot together easily, two perfect puzzle pieces.

Eddie wonders if him in Steve’s life, him like this with Steve, is one of those things that would work—would make sense. If he wants to make sense with Steve or instead be another surprising thing about him.

(That Steve Harrington might like boys. Might like Eddie.)

Steve is gazing at their joined hands. For the first time since he got to Eddie’s trailer, his lips turn upward, a very small yet happy smile. He gives a very light squeeze with his hand, the lack of strength evidence of his sleepiness. Eddie squeezes back nonetheless.

Then Steve’s eyes are closed and in a few deep breathes, he’s out like a light.

It’s a careful process to extract the glass of water from Steve’s clenched hand, but Eddie manages it. It sits on the edge of the coffee table and when Steve wakes up, mouth dry and in need of water, it will be there.

And so will Eddie.

The burning possibilities of what happens come tomorrow—when Steve’s sober and actually thinking straight (ha)—filter through Eddie’s mind, but he can’t find it in himself.

There’s no regret of he’s done. What he’s said, what’s been revealed.

It’s tomorrow’s problem (or tomorrow’s fantasy come true…?), but til then, Eddie burrows into the couch and readies for a sore neck tomorrow morning.

He should really get up and turn the lamp off, Eddie thinks to himself. Then Steve snuffles in his sleep, uses their intertwined fingers to bring him closer, and he forgets all about it.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 8th: Rockstar | Times Like These - Foo Fighters | Confident a/n: rockstar!eddie & corroded coffin. steddie. suggestive themes but not explicit. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

When Eddie was a teenager, he pictured himself on stage, surrounded by pyrotechnics and aggressive bass riffs. His hair was long, his skin mottled in tattoos with maybe a love bruise or two, and his favorite ruby red guitar slung low to his hips as he belts his vocals into the microphone. 

All but the last part comes true. 

He does end up sweaty from the heat of the fire cannons on either side of their set. Freak shreds his bass every fucking show, his fingers undoubtedly calloused beyond repair. Eddie’s hair gets in his face as he plays his own guitar, his Sweetheart, but he doesn’t get to sing. 

That’s all Steve. 

Unassuming, surprisingly talented Steve Harrington who Eddie discovers can fucking sing when he’s home from a tour, driving around together through the empty streets of Hawkins, Indiana. The 90s bring a new landscape to heavy metal and rock and roll, and as cocky as Eddie might be, as confident as he is when it comes to his music, he can see when someone has one up on him. Steve’s rendition of The Foo Fighters’ Good Grief as he drums along on the steering wheel sets his heart aflame– and maybe another appendage that he’s tried to ignore for the better part of ten years. 

Steve agrees to join the band with a heavy bit of convincing, agreeing only when Eddie offers to retain his role as frontman.

I don’t wanna be a rockstar, Ed. That’s all you. 

The band truly takes off when Steve joins, his voice adding a different flavor and Eddie’s backing vocals rounding out their sound. Eddie tells Steve night after night, show after show, that he’s happy he’s there, because he is. Maybe being in love with his bandmate hadn’t part of the teenage fantasy, but it’s become his favorite part of the reality, even if it’s one-sided or unrequited. His skin remains unbruised, no groupies or flings to be found, but he’d prefer a blank canvas over meaningless artistry anyways. 

They end up touring again, exploring the country and parts of Canada together but always with different hotel rooms. Eddie never minds sharing with Gareth, or Jeff, or Freak but he also doesn’t make a habit of thinking about their dicks. 

After their show in Toronto, the end of this leg of their tour, Eddie and the rest of the band celebrate in Eddie’s room– it’s the biggest of their block and Eddie won rock-paper-scissors to claim the lone room this time around. 

Drinks flow, smoke from their joints curl out the window screen into the night, and before Eddie realizes it’s happened, he’s left alone with Steve.

Steve, who hasn’t had a thing to drink and only a few puffs of his joint, but is laying across the bed with his feet crossed at the ankles and his head resting in Eddie’s lap anyways. Steve, who Eddie listens to as he hums the melody of their encore and whose hair he can’t help but thread through his fingers. Steve, who Eddie has been watching night after night sing the words Eddie’s written himself, some of which are about Steve. 

It’s a dangerous position to be in. 

“Gettin’ tired yet, Harrington?” Eddie asks, grinning as Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, we’re back to Harrington now, Munson?” 

Eddie just shrugs and continues playing with Steve’s hair. It’s soft, still damp from his shower, and Eddie’s surprised he hasn’t shoved him off yet with some comment about how he’s gonna fuck it up. But he doesn’t, and Eddie doesn’t know what to make of that. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Steve asks, shifting his gaze from the ceiling to Eddie’s eyes. “It’s weird.” 

“I contain multitudes, don’t try to make me some one-dimensional agent of chaos.” 

Steve laughs and it’s better than any song Eddie’s ever written. And he’s written some damn good songs, if he does say so himself. 

Eddie lets out a little oof as Steve sits up, bracing himself on Eddie’s stomach to turn and face him. There’s something in Steve’s expression that Eddie can’t place– searching eyes, furrowed brows, one corner of his lips quirked up. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“You just did.” 

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes, you know that?” 

“I do, actually. But yeah, go ahead.” Eddie bites his bottom lip and shrugs.

“How come you never wanna share a room with me?” 

Eddie just about chokes on nothing, inhaling oxygen into the wrong pipe or something. His ears turn red, a tell that no amount of shaking his hair out can hide, at least not from Steve. He feels the soft skin of Steve’s hand graze his cheek as he tucks hair back behind his right ear, exposing the bright red shade of embarrassment. 

“Is it me? I can’t imagine that I, Steve Harrington, make you, big ol’ Rockstar Eddie Munson, uncomfortable after all these years.” 

You motherfucker, Eddie thinks, his mouth a little behind the speed of his thoughts, effectively leaving him speechless. 

“Little bit, actually,” Eddie manages to admit. 

He shouldn’t admit anything, but he’s alone in this quiet room with the boy he’s loved for so many years, who’s touching him like he loves him, too. Who can blame him?

“How come?” Steve whispers, his lips suddenly closer, their noses nearly touching. Eddie may or may not be breathing, but he tries. Fainting would definitely kill whatever this energy is between them. 

“Ed, c’mon. Just, just tell me you want me, too. Please.” 

Too? He thinks.

“Too?” He asks.

Steve smiles and nods, running his thumb across Eddie’s chapped lower lip before resting his palm against his cheek. 

“Too.” 

—

The following morning, Eddie and Steve meet up with the rest of the band in the hotel restaurant for breakfast– or, well, brunch at best given the time they actually make it downstairs. 

“Notice you stayed in Eddie’s room last night,” Jeff asks, one eyebrow raised halfway up his forehead as his eyes flit back and forth from Steve to the very clear, purpling bruise on Eddie’s collarbone. 

“Astute observation,” Eddie grins and answers for him, digging into the stack of pancakes in front of him, ravenous. 

“Sure did,” Steve just grins, shrugging as he shifts in his seat. 

Gareth, Freak, and Jeff all exchange a look, the kind of look that comes with inside jokes and long-suffering waiting. 

“Wait–” Steve starts, pointing an accusing finger at Jeff. “You all left early on purpose, didn’t you?”

Gareth laughs the hardest, rivaled only by Eddie who watches them all with incredulity as Jeff parrots Steve with casual confidence. 

“Sure did.” 

[quinns-shadowy-arts]

No More Running

Day 7 of @steddielovemonth‘s Steddie Love Month Event!   Rating: General CW: None Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a romantic  WC: 1,122 Prompt: “Love is what makes you brave” submitted by @sidekick-hero

Note: Guess who came down with a cold. Me. Guess who ignored their many deadlines to write this. Also me. Sorry if this isn’t the best (and is also very late), but I’m pretty sick and can’t breathe out of my nose. I wanted something soft to make me feel better, so I wrote this. Enjoy!

He wasn’t going to run anymore. That’s what Eddie promised himself when he woke up from surgery after being dragged out of the Upside Down. He wasn’t going to run, and he hasn’t. He hadn’t run from Wayne, he hadn’t run from the somehow alive Jim Hopper, he hadn’t run away from the aftermath of Vecna, and he wasn’t going to run from this. 

Eddie’s been developing feelings for Steve since he made that promise. Waking up to learn that the Steve Harrington bridal carried his half dead body out of hell really does something to a guy. Not only that, but Steve is one of the sweetest guys Eddie has ever met. Long gone is the King Steve of Hawkins High; replaced by a loving, caring, and smart man. 

Steve had been there for Eddie through the whole recovery process. He helped with proving that Eddie was innocent, he helped Eddie with bathing, and he helped Eddie with cleaning and wrapping his wounds.

 Steve also helped Eddie with processing the trauma of Spring Break. He held Eddie’s hand and talked him through panic attacks. He stayed awake with Eddie when sleep seemed like a monstrous task; the fear of what he’d dream fraying Eddie’s nerves and keeping him awake. 

Steve was also just an amazing person overall. He had an amazing sense of humor; making Eddie’s ribs ache with the laughter he tugged out of him. Steve was smart, he could read people’s emotions like no other. He knew exactly what Eddie was feeling by looking at him for only a couple of seconds. Steve could pull the real reasons as to why Eddie was quiet out of him when no one else could.

He was easy on the eyes, too. His chestnut hair looked glorious, styled or not. His eyes were kind and genuine; but could turn bitchy in a way that sent heat down Eddie’s spine. Steve’s hands were big and spotted with freckles and moles, like the rest of his body. His skin was sun kissed and hairy. Everything about him made Eddie want to pounce on him. 

Everything about Steve had made Eddie fall head over heels in love with him. Eddie knew about Steve’s woeful dating history; knew about Steve’s failed loves. How people have used Steve for a quick fling or bragging rights before tossing him to the side. 

Eddie wanted to give Steve the world. Eddie wanted to worship Steve the way he deserved; to kneel at his feet and kiss up his body, to whisper praises into his ear, to pump Steve full of love and want, and maybe some other things besides love, too. Eddie wanted to make sure Steve knew that he deserved better than those past flings could have ever provided.

That’s why Eddie is stood outside of Steve’s font door, holding a bouquet of deep, ruby roses. Eddie had put on a black button up and black jeans. His wallet chain still dangled on his hip, complementing the silver of his rings. He had tied his hair up into a bun, leaving some framing pieces around his face. He spent a while on doing himself up, had wanted to look good for Steve.

He leaned forward and knocked at the door. Steve always teased him about not using the doorbell, but Eddie liked knowing that Steve knew it was him at the door based on his knock alone. 

Eddie heard shuffling from behind the door before the sounds of the lock being opened filled his ears. His heart picked up its pace, knowing how close Steve was. Eddie sends out one last prayer, despite not believing in any type of greater being, that Steve felt the same way he did. And if he didn’t, to at least keep Steve in his life for as long as possible. 

The door swung open, Steve stood in the doorway in grey sweatpants and a Hall and Oates T-shirt. He looked absolutely gorgeous like this, soft and relaxed. He had obviously been lounging around before Eddie had come knocking on his door. 

“Hey, Eds!” Steve said, a smile stretched across his face. Eddie’s gut filled with warmth. His heart stuttered with the overwhelming love he felt for this man. 

“Hey, Stevie. I hope I’m not bothering you?” Eddie said. Steve shook his head,

“Nah, man. You’re not bothering me.” Steve looked down,

“What’re those for?” Steve looked back up and made eye contact with Eddie. 

“They’re uh, they’re for you, actually.” Eddie turned his head away. He could feel his face warming up. He held the roses out for Steve to take, hopefully he’d take them. 

Steve grabbed the bouquet, pulling Eddie’s attention back up. Steve’s own cheeks and ears flushed. 

“Why? Is there an event or something that I’m missing?” Steve sounded shy and a bit nervous. Eddie shook his head and smiled at Steve. 

“No, I just wanted to get you flowers. Could I talk to you, actually?” Eddie asked, he shuffled his weight from foot-to-foot as he spoke. He was nervous and scared about confessing his feelings to Steve. He really hoped that this wouldn’t destroy their friendship. 

“Sure, yeah, come inside.” Steve said, stepping away to make space for Eddie. Eddie stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He turned to Steve, straightened his back and gathered all of the courage he could muster. 

“Steve, you’re my best friend. You mean so much to me. You’re so kind and amazing.” Steve’s blush deepened at Eddie’s words, 

“You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. You’re strong, not just physically, but in every aspect of the word. You are so observant, you can always tell when I’m upset. You can read me like a goddamn book,” Steve chuckled and looked down at the roses in his hand, he was never really good with accepting praise.

“You are my everything, Stevie. And I’ve developed a lot of feelings for you, So, would you like to go out with me?” Eddie finished. Steve’s eyebrows had raised with surprise, his mouth forming an “o” shape. Steve blinked, then his mouth fell back into a smile.  

Steve walked up to Eddie, dropping the hand holding his flowers to the side. He placed his free hand onto Eddie’s face. His thumb swiped over Eddie’s cheek before pulling him in. 

Their lips smooshed together and a fire lit up in Eddie’s chest. Steve’s lips moved against Eddie’s, their lips forming a rhythmic push and pull. After a minute, Steve pulled back. He smiled at Eddie, both their faces still red and warm to the touch. 

“I would love to go out with you, Eddie” Steve whispered against Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie’s so glad he didn’t run from this.

[laundrybiscuits]

@eriquin recently (and not-so-recently, whoops) tagged me in a few things! So we're doing Super Combo Tag Extravaganza here.

Current media: watching Severance, listening to Ruby by Jennie, and reading a whole bunch of Han Kang.

"Glass is transparent, right? And fragile. That's the fundamental nature of glass. And that's why objects that are made of glass have to be handled with care. After all, if they end up smashed or cracked or chipped then they're good for nothing, right, you just have to chuck them away. Before, we used to have a kind of glass that couldn't be broken. A truth so hard and clear that it might as well have been made of glass. So when you think about it, it was only when we were shattered that we proved we had souls. That what we really were was humans made of glass." -Han Kang, Human Acts

Recent writing: long story short, my work is directly impacted by The Current Situation, and I've been spending about 12-14 hours every day at what was already a fairly demanding job that plays into the worst of my workaholic tendencies.

THAT SAID I did in fact recently dump a bit more into that one weird sequel WIP, so for once I do happen to have something relatively fresh in the category of Munson Family Feelings:

When he was a kid, Eddie wanted to be a were-pig one summer. Werewolf would’ve made more sense, but Eddie didn’t let that discourage him. His third-grade class had gone to visit a farm that someone's uncle owned around the end of the semester, and the massive feeders hadn't looked anything like Porky Pig. They were metal as hell, hairy and grunting, stinking like anything in the warm barn. So practically that whole summer, May through June, Eddie was a were-pig. Wayne was real good about it, too; Eddie’d only been staying in a looks-like-it’s-for-keeps way for less than a year, but Wayne put up with him tearing around oinking and growling all the same. “It ain’t the full moon, kid,” he’d say. “How come you’re still a pig?” “Were-pigs don’t turn with the moon, stupid,” Eddie told him. “Were-pigs do whatever we want.” It must’ve driven the old man crazy, maybe wondering what he’d gotten himself in for, but Wayne’d always just laugh and ruffle Eddie’s hair.

(Admittedly I have also somewhat been messing with an extension to my f/f Steddie fic, kind of trying to bring a more layered take on dominance because I often see it portrayed in a really two-dimensional way—not solely in fic/fandom, although it does show up here quite a lot. But despite my lofty aspirations, most of what I've actually written is just loosely characterized porn due to the aforementioned stress, so. Who knows if it'll ever get posted!)

Oldest fic [series] in my ST bookmarks: 1986 was the year of the Fire Tiger, by maiamaryse. I added a whole bunch in alphabetical order, so I don't think this is the first ST fic I actually read, but it's definitely one of the earlier ones.

I still really like the series! It's got a very distinctive and rather interesting voice. I've also just noticed that it's tagged "Underrated Gems," which is my tag for my fave fics that hit a sliding threshold for key metrics when I bookmarked them, as long as I bookmarked them at least a week or two after they were initially posted. It's not a great system but I'm not fixing it now.

[medusapelagia]

Battle cry - Part Two

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘Fool’ wc: 454 rated: M TW: blood, injuries, war, battlefield, cliffhanger

(I had the idea of trying to write a longer fic using Steddie Microfic Prompts, I don’t know if this will work out! This fic is intended as a sequel to I’ll make you proud but can also be read as a stand-alone)

Their camp is burning.

The ground is dripping blood and the soldiers are screaming and running while Steve stares at the huge creature that's standing in front of him.

At his side, Robin, his squire, is trying to drag him away from the battlefield: their enemies have a fucking dragon, and there is no way they can even hope to defeat them. But Steve isn’t moving. His eyes pinned in the dragon's ruby ones. The creature's nostrils flare and he snorts some smoke, trying to intimidate the prince. There's no need. Steve is already terrified. Still. He can't retreat. He must protect his men and his family, or at least die trying to.

"Run," Steve says to Robin, without turning.

"Steve! Don't be foolish! You can't fight a dragon!" She insists, her grip around the boy's arm even tighter.

"I know, but I can still buy you some time."

The dragon is studying him like a big cat ready to jump and catch the mouse he's playing with.

"Think about Eddie! Think about your kid!" Robin begs, her eyes full of tears, but she has been at Steve's side since he was a child, and she knows that she'll not be able to convince him.

"Listen to me." Steve says, his hand already on the hilt of his swords, "We don't know how many dragons they have, but if this is the only one and I manage to keep him busy long enough for you to get back to the castle, we might still have a chance," he whispers, "Find Dustin. Tell him that they have a dragon. I'm sure he'll come up with some clever plan."

For a brief moment, Steve turns toward Robin with a sad smile, then he pushes her away and starts running toward the dragon. He's on foot, he lost his horse during the fight and all he has now are his sword and the medallion with Eddie's mischievous expression. He didn't even have the time to add their son's portrait.

His armor clangs while he gets closer to the enormous creature that stares back at him. Some soldiers try to stop him. An arrow, coming from Steve’s blind side, finds its way under his arm. Steve yelps but keeps going, feeling the blood pouring down his arm: if he's not quick the arrow will kill him before the dragon.

There's a flare of fire at Steve's side and he barely avoids getting burned. He rolls on the ground, whimpering when he hits the ground where the arrowhead is still embedded, and when he finally stops he's so close to the dragon that can count all his scales.

Steve lets out a battle cry.

And then the dragon hits.

(Do I have an idea about how to continue this? Yes, I do and I need at least 2 more prompts that I can use... maybe three to get it more coherent but who cares XD)

Part 3

[hbyrde36]

writing patterns 👁️

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I was tagged by @cranberrymoons! Thank you, this was SO FUN 💜

(All Steddie Fics)

1. Eddie could hardly breathe past the blood that was flooding into his mouth, threatening to choke him before he even had the opportunity to bleed out. – Times Like These (The Anniversary Edition)

2. “That was amazing, Eddie!” – Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

3. After the “earthquake" Steve made arrangements to have the RV brought back to his house for safekeeping.  – Pieces of Memory

4. Eddie grinned as he pulled his trusty van, the very same rust-bucket he’d been driving since high school that he liked to refer to as Van Halen, if only to elicit the groans of both friends and strangers, into the small parking lot beside the Buckingham beach motel. – No Vacancy

5. Will Byers was only 12 years old when he learned that monsters were real.  – The Crawl

6. Eddie opened the door. – I Couldn't Lose You

7. Steve and Eddie had been best friends since The Beginning. – Honey, You're Familiar

8. The ear-piercingly loud siren of the building’s fire alarm jerked Steve out of an already fitful sleep. – Burnin' For You

9. Steve was busy nursing his 4th or 5th drink of the night, he wasn't completely sure how many he'd had to be honest, and daydreaming about big brown eyes while he stared across the bar, when Robin suddenly came up from behind and threw her arm over his shoulder. – Ruby

10. This was Steve’s favorite part of sex.  – The romantic implications of misquoting Pride and Prejudice

Patterns – I do like to open with a name, apparently LOL but otherwise it's just chaos it seems!

no pressure tags: @penny00dreadful @hitlikehammers @pearynice @hairstevington @soaringornithopter @griefabyss69 @sidekick-hero @hornedqueenofhell @klausinamarink

[california-munson]

Fireworks (steddie x ofmc)

A/N: heyyyy! this is my first Stranger Things fanfic ever/the first fic i've written in 11 years! i used to write magcon fanfiction (ew) as a child on wattpad/quotev and have lacked all inspiration to get back into creative writing since attending college (ew again). but! i'm a graduate, the world is going to shit, and i need a form of escapism so...here i am!!! back at it again!!!

this is the product of my delusions that were born out of two very different series; Magnolia Parks and Stranger Things, which I read/rewatched in the same span of time. i'm very new to publishing on tumblr so please, bear with me. i don't know how to format on here to save my life!!! nevertheless, i hope you enjoy, thank you for reading!!

Summary: A Steddie fic with an original female main character. Friends to lovers trope, love triangle, lots of drama. Not sure really where I'm going with the 100% but I'm laying the groundwork here!

CW: abandonment, substance abuse (alcohol and prescription drugs), death of a parent (Eddie’s mother), grief and childhood trauma, neglect, mental health struggles, Child caretaking/parentification, mentions of overdose, drugs, alcohol, classism, infidelity, child abandonment

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Fireworks: A Steddie Fic

Chapter 1

Ruby

I fell in love with Eddie Munson when I was four years old.

It wasn’t hard to do. When the doe-eyed curly haired boy ran up to me introducing himself as my neighbor Steve’s best friend, my long standing crush on Steve Harrington evaporated like a popsicle in the sun. Eddie, with his crooked smile and wild curls, had me all giggles and sparkles. I found every reason to be at the Harringtons after that. 

Steve and I met three years prior, on the day my family moved from the chaotic buzz of New York City to the sleepy suburb of Hawkins, Indiana. It was January 2003, bone-cold, and Steve was outside building a snowman when we pulled up in a pair of enormous moving trucks. He had rosy cheeks and a self-assured grin that didn’t match his missing front tooth. He looked at me and my older sister Delaney and announced, “I’m Steve, king of Hawkins Elementary.”

Laney and I burst into laughter. The kind that makes your stomach hurt. The kind that feels like a promise. From that day on, Steve was mine. My honorary brother. My first real friend. He was also Laney’s age, a full year and a half older than me, but he never made me feel small. Steve and I spent our days outside, playing hide and seek until sunset, climbing trees so high we thought we could touch the clouds, and launching ourselves into piles of snow we’d built beneath our favorite limbs.

In a house full of girls, Steve became the brother I had prayed for during the arrival of my baby sister Stella, who was just eight months old during our arrival to Hawkins. 

Come springtime, I had begged my parents to let me join the boys baseball team along with Steve, but they wouldn’t allow it. Instead, they enrolled Laney and I into ballet, where we met the quiet, kind, and whip-smart Nancy Wheeler. Nancy’s baby brother Mike was the same age as Stella, so we bonded over the trials and tribulations of older sisterhood.

Nancy was born exactly halfway between me and Laney, and fit nicely into our sisterhood. The house felt more complete with her as she played mediator and mentor to both Laney and I. Bonding with Nancy was easy; we were all older sisters, all balancing between wanting to grow up fast and wishing we didn’t have to.

While Laney, Nancy and I were bonding at ballet, Steve was thrown into t-ball, where he met Eddie. Eddie was chaos wrapped in charm. Where Steve was polished and popular, Eddie was rough around the edges, with dirt under his fingernails and scabs he wore like trophies.

Despite their differences, they clicked immediately. The golden boy and the wild card. It made sense in a way only childhood friendships can. A rambunctious child so different from Steve, the opposite boys attracted naturally out of curiosity, and a friendship was born.

It was a few weeks after the baseball season started that Steve invited Eddie home for pizza after practice. And that’s when Eddie Munson met me.

I was playing on the front steps of the Harringtons’ porch, braiding my doll’s hair and waiting for Steve to come home when the two of them came running up the driveway.

Eddie spotted me right away and peeled off from Steve, running up with his hand stretched out like I was someone worth meeting. He made me feel special before he even said a word to me.

“Hi, I’m Eddie, I’m Steve’s best friend,” he said, breathless, hair and dirt sticking to his forehead from practice, eyes lit up like a kid who just won a prize.

I stood, hands on my hips, chin raised. “Actually, I’m Steve’s best friend.”

Eddie blinked at me, then grinned like I’d just said the funniest thing in the world. “Well, we can both be, if you want,” he said, undeterred. “And then maybe we can be best friends too.”

I squinted at him, sizing him up. He had bandages on both knees, the laces on his sneakers were uneven, and his curls stuck out in every direction like they had a mind of their own. He looked like trouble. The fun kind. The kind of boy you’d want to get in trouble with.

“Hmm…okay. I’m Ruby. I live next door,” I said, sticking out my hand like my mother and father had told me to do when meeting new people.

He shook it, grinning ear to ear. “Ruby,” he repeated like it was the most beautiful name he’d ever heard. “I like that name.”

And that’s how my friendship with Eddie began, a small argument over who was Steve Harrington’s best friend, followed by a simple handshake, and Eddie Munson became a permanent fixture in my life. 

Eddie fit in right alongside us, always. Jumping in snow piles until our fingers were numb, climbing trees so high the adults would yell, staying out until the sun dipped below the Hawkins skyline and our parents were calling from porches with flashlights in hand.

Summers were filled with popsicles and scraped knees, and winters were snowball fights, cocoa mustaches, and frozen toes tucked into each other’s sleeping bags during late-night sleepovers in the Harringtons' den.

We became quite the trio. We did everything together…homework, birthday parties, sleepovers. From the outside, we must’ve looked like an odd bunch…Steve, the golden boy with a million-watt smile and hair that somehow always looked perfect. Eddie, the wild child with scraped knees and comic books falling out of his backpack. And me, the girl in the middle, always tagging along and somehow always leading the charge.

They were my partners in crime when we were small, especially when it came to tormenting Laney, Nancy, and their sweet friend Barbara. Eddie, Steve and I loved a good prank. Fake spiders in ballet bags, walkie-talkie ghost stories played through vents, water balloons launched from tree forts. We had the time of our little lives hearing my sister’s scream from another room or down the stairs.

When I started school at Hawkins Elementary, I was nervous. Kindergarten is so daunting when you’re a skinny kid with big glasses. But Steve and Eddie made sure no one messed with me or Laney. They ran a kind of playground justice system. Steve was the good cop, offering stern lectures and well-reasoned logic to any kid dumb enough to push us around. Eddie was the bad cop; brash, bold, and very willing to threaten a punch to the face (though he never actually followed through).

I helped the boys in return with homework…math worksheets, book reports, whatever they needed. I was always the brain of the operation, and they were more than happy to use that to their advantage. I didn’t mind. That’s just how we were. Always there for each other. Through thick and thin.

And boy, things sure did get thick.

By the end of summer 2003, Eddie’s mom Elizabeth suddenly passed away. It was like the sun went out in his world. Eddie’s dad, Al Munson, already teetering on the edge of uselessness, disappeared completely; grief-stricken, irresponsible, maybe just selfish. He left Eddie high and dry.

That’s when Eddie’s Uncle Wayne stepped in. A quiet man with rough hands and tired eyes, but a heart that knew how to love even when it hurt. Eddie moved in with Uncle Wayne to the trailer park. That’s when we met Veronica Ecker, Ronnie for short. 

Ronnie lived in the trailer park Wayne lived in with her grandma. Seemingly the smarter, quieter female version of Eddie, she fit right into the friend group. She was tall, taller than Steve and Eddie, quiet, and sharp as glass. Where I was warmth, she was cool steel.

Ronnie had Steve’s athletic edge and Eddie’s geeky flair, diving headfirst into Dungeons & Dragons with him while also out-running Steve in races through the woods. Ronnie was standoffish with me at first, like she couldn’t quite figure me out, or maybe didn’t trust what she saw. I was the little rich girl, in a princess dress constantly but trying to keep up with the boys. But I knew she cared.

On one particularly unfortunate hike, I stupidly wore plastic Cinderella heels. When I got stuck at the creek, she hoisted me over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried me across. She didn’t say a word about it. Just rolled her eyes and muttered, “You’re lucky I’m nice.”

That was Ronnie.

Childhood was filled with memories like that. Fireflies in jars, chalk drawings on sidewalks, blanket forts in basements, endless bike rides through Hawkins with our tires kicking up dust and laughter trailing behind us.

The core was always the same: me, Steve, and Eddie. The three musketeers. We were tethered to one another in a way no one else quite understood. Even when Nancy, Barb, Laney, or Ronnie joined in, it always felt like it came back to us three.

As we got older, things began to shift.

People began to notice Eddie’s last name more than his laugh. The legacy of his father clung to him like smoke. Adults would whisper. Mothers would steer their children away. Steve’s parents, who had once welcomed Eddie into their home like another son, began looking at him differently. 

Eddie was from the ‘wrong side of the tracks’, with a convict, absent father and an overworked uncle who did his absolute best to raise Eddie right. He was trouble. He was the rotten apple. I saw the way Steve’s parents started to look at Eddie.

I heard the whispers between my mother and the other concerned mothers of Hawkins that would stop her in the grocery store or the library to talk about her daughter’s association with ‘that Munson kid’. Steve and I were born into wealth, and that alone made us “promising.” That alone made us “worth saving.” 

But Steve and I didn’t care. We happily rode our bikes to the Munson house when Al came back for brief stretches, and happily rode them to the trailer park to Uncle Wayne’s when he would leave Eddie just as quickly as he had come.

Eddie was our friend. Our person. And we knew what the adults couldn’t see: that Hawkins was better with Eddie Munson in it.

Plus, it wasn’t much later that my own family would crumble and fail.

My parents, Julian and Violetta Rivera, were never meant to be parents. My father Julian was the son of a successful Puerto Rican musician, always enjoying a life of wealth, excess and fame, being handed his role as record producer and songwriter (though regrettably, he is very talented, hence the aforementioned wealth). But a father? Not even close. My mother, Violetta, was an Irish model who’d met him at a club in New York when she was nineteen. Four months after meeting, she was pregnant with Delaney. 

Five months later, they were married in a lavish, last-minute ceremony fueled by Catholic guilt and societal pressure, like a couple of BYU students who live by the ‘ring before spring’ motto. Laney was born, healthy and beautiful, and I followed suit just a year and three days after my sister, in the good year of 1998. 

They never loved each other. Their marriage was a transaction...he had money, she had beauty. And when Laney was born, they tried to make it work. When I followed a year later, they kept trying.

It was my father’s cheating that drove us out of New York City and to Hawkins. My mother’s grandparents had settled here after immigrating from Ireland, and my mother had fond memories of visiting them when she was a kid.

All she wanted was to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city and give her girls a good, honest childhood in Midwest suburbia…and physically distance my father from the growing harem of groupies and college girls he had been keeping in his company. 

It was good for a few years…six to be exact. And then one day, Stella, Laney and I came home to a half empty house and our drunk, sobbing mom, telling us dad had left to go back to New York for his 22 year old girlfriend. 

It was devastating. My father’s vanishing act did a number on me and my sisters, but what was worse was watching my mother’s descent into alcoholism and prescription pill addiction. Laney completely checked out, basically moving into the Wheelers, leaving me to care for Stella alone…alone with the help of Eddie.

Eddie was used to chaos. Eddie understood. He knew what it meant to be left behind. He knew the ache of an empty house. He was used to the cops showing up looking for his father, used to making himself breakfast, lunch and dinner, used to the whispers and stares that came with being the spawn of a Munson. He knew the exhaustion of pretending you were fine.

When I called him in tears after having to carry my mom to bed and burning Stella’s grilled cheese, he rode his bike over, taught me how to properly toast the bread on the stove top (low flame, lots of butter, and patience), and told me I was the best big sister ever. And I believed him.

Steve was still there, of course. But his life was changing too. He was getting serious about sports, winning trophies, catching the eye of every girl in school. He was still my best friend, my brother, my constant. I was proud of him.

But something about him was already standing on higher ground. While Eddie and I were on sinking ships, Steve was out of the water, on the sand, enjoying a life of promise and praise. It wasn’t that he wasn’t still my best friend, my neighbor, my brother…it was just different. 

There were moments where I needed Steve and he was there. When we came into the house and found my mother unconscious, a bottle of pills in one hand, a handle of spilled vodka next to her, Steve was the one that called 911. When my mother forgot to pay the electric bill, it was Steve who got his dad to loan her the money until my dad sent us some.

When my sisters and I came home from school to a wad of cash and a note from our mother that said she was going to rehab in Switzerland and would be back ‘when she was up for it’, it was twelve year old Steve who stole his mom’s station wagon to carefully drive us to the grocery store to fill our fridge. 

Steve was always there, standing on land, trying to pull our sinking ship in with a piece of rotting driftwood.

We were kids. And we were doing our best. Clinging to each other, building a family out of the pieces our real ones left behind. And somehow, despite it all, we made it beautiful.

Hawkins may not have been perfect, but it was ours. And the memories…those long summers, late-night sleepovers, secret handshakes, whispered dreams under blanket forts…those were real. We were real.

Me, Steve, and Eddie. Always.

Until we weren’t.

It’s funny, in retrospect. The three of us - me, Steve, and Eddie - were tangled up from the beginning. We were kids playing at friendship, not realizing the foundation we were building would hold so many years of love and loss, laughter and heartbreak.

Because what started as a squabble over who got to be Steve Harrington’s best friend?

Would end with Steve and Eddie’s friendship breaking apart over who got to be the love of my life.

But that came later, much later. 

[cuips-not-cute]

sooooo where does one meet those gay murder cowboys? 👀

heheh well if you really are curious, i'll put the story below the readmore (it is only 1.5k!!)<3 i wrote it bc i had an unexpected deadline for the workshop class and the only idea i had rattling around in my head at the time was the steddie cowboy au i want to write sometime after i finish brl. i did not actually submit fanfic for my workshop class, but the idea absolutely came from that au, and i feel like you can kinda tell lol. i am not yet done revising this piece (there is a scene i want to add near the beginning that would fix a plot inconsistency my prof pointed out-- i'll put a decription of it under the readmore) but i like it a lot!!

ty for asking!!! that was very sweet<3

Buddy Sour

One doesn’t expect it when a man falls through the rafters. Scared-looking. Skittish. Missing his hat. I was expecting a horse got loose, or even a coyote got in from the awful racket I’d heard from the house. I could’ve brought my gun, shot at whatever the noise was, but these days I’m just so damn bored that it seemed more exciting to leave it inside.

And wouldn’t you know it? I was right.

The man lands in a pile of hay so he’s okay, nothin’ broken, and he shoots straight up with his hands in the air even though all I’m holding is a lantern.

“Whoa,” I say, and put my own hands up. Shush him like I’ve done a spooked horse. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you. Now, why don’t you settle down and tell me why I came out here to find you falling from my barn.”

He settles, and I watch him do it. He’s all cow-eyed and pretty in the lantern light, his whole front dark with the dust of the rafters, palms lowering sheepish to his sides.

“Hidin’ out,” the Rafter Man says. Blinks at me with eyes like black velvet. Tucks his dirt-stained hands inside his jeans.

“Figured as much.”

And ‘cause it’s late and he’s on his lonesome, I take him inside.

“You can sleep there,” I tell him, pointing at the couch. “There’s leftovers in the icebox and the bathroom’s just that way.”

The Rafter Man nods. It’s only then that I realize he’s bleeding.

“Your hands,” I say, though it ain’t just those, it’s his mouth and shirt front, too. Everything I thought was rafter dust is really just dried, sticky blood. I reach a finger out, drag it red across his cheekbone. 

Rafter Man jerks back. Leans forward again when I suck that rubied finger into my mouth.

“Come on now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He’s twitchy, but willing. Holds still for the water and dirt-cheap booze poured over his lacerations. Hisses when I wrap the gauze too tight but allows me to fix it. I don’t comment on how shallow the cuts look for how bloodied his palms are. And he doesn’t comment, neither.

The silence is killing me, though. I gotta ask him something. He can answer me any way he goddamn wants.

“How’d you get all banged up, anyway?”

“Climbin’ your barn.” says the Rafter Man.

Morning comes and with it, the front door ajar, a mess of sheets on the couch, and bloodied footprints leading toward the bathroom. I find the Rafter Man sitting on the toilet seat, head in his hands.

And if he doesn’t give any explanation for how the blood’s everywhere, seeped deep into his clothing and made tacky his chest hair, then that’s between him and lord almighty God, far as I’m concerned.

“You start bleeding again?” I ask.

“Sure did.”

“Well. Let’s change your bandages, then.” 

I put my hands behind me on the edge of the sink, and with one good push, I’m seated on the counter with the Rafter Man looking up at me between the spread of my knees. 

“Hi there.”

“Howdy,” says the Rafter Man. His grin’s a little crooked. His gaze keeps flicking down. He holds still a lot better than yesterday. His bandages hang in soaked, shredded ribbons. Red’s a nice color on him. He strips his shirt so I can clean the new marks on his chest—long crimson lines in groups of five like something fought back. He lets me patch those up, lets me change the hand wrappings. Lets me wipe a rag all over his bloody face.

“Messy eater, are you?” I ask.

We eat a real breakfast after that, coffee with fresh milk and marmalade toast.

Rafter Man snorts.

Rafter Man lingers on the porch as we say our goodbyes, belly full and hands wrapped in fresh bandages.

“Well, sir. I feel I oughta thank you,” he says. “Helpin’ me out, and all.”

“Ain’t no need.”

“No, really,” says the Rafter Man. Steps closer. His face is clean-shaven. I’d given him my razor. Breath smelling like fresh milk and oranges, pleading with his black cow eyes, “I’m trying to look chivalrous.”

“I ain’t that kind’a cowboy,” I tell him.

“Bullshit,” Rafter Man calls, and both of us know he’s right.

“So why were you hiding?” I ask him later, bodies sweaty, blankets askew.

He’s an easy kisser. Sweet. Cups my jaw like somethin’ precious, leans so far forward we both go stumbling into the house. Down the hall, up the stairs, clinging hard to each other’s lapels. Been a while since I kissed another boy. I reckon I’m very lucky to have met the Rafter Man.

“Didn’t wanna get caught.”

“Yeah, but,” I roll forward, ask again into his mouth, “caught for what?”

Rafter Man grunts. Kisses back a little harder. “Don’t you have chores needin’ done?”

“Yeah, yeah. You wanna help with ‘em?”

“Sure I do.”

We dress and get started on the horses, filling troughs and moving hay. Rafter Man fixes a hole in the fence for me and I get my knees bruised and jeans dusty on the barn floor thanking him for it.

And after, belts buckled and hats replaced, I offer him a ride into town which he refuses. Doesn’t really surprise me, so I direct him toward the chickens which need feedin’ and waterin’ and drive down by myself.

“Nother two bodies found last night,” says the girl at the market, bagging my purchase of gauze wraps, whiskey, and canned beans. “Ma says their throats got ripped out.”

“Shame,” I say. “They know who?”

She tells me. It’s a pair of brothers. Never liked them much; too nosy for my tastes. I hide my smile in my shirt collar, ask all concerned-like if she knows anything else.

“Sheriff says they almost caught the killer this time. And one woman saw his face. He was running, real fast, but she saw ‘im,” the girl pauses, looking curiously. “He was headed toward your place, actually.”

“Really?” I say. “Well, I’ll be sure to lock my doors tonight.”

“You’d better.”

“The woman,” I start, “who was she? She talk to the sheriff?”

“It was Maryanne,” says the girl. “And she sure did. They’re bringing in a police sketcher tomorrow morning.”

“Wow.”

Rafter Man’s sitting waiting for me on the porch when I get back. For once, he’s clean.

“Mhm.”

“Help me make dinner,” I tell him. He’s quick to agree.

I boil the water, he chops the meat. His hands are careful, practiced. I make him fetch the margarine from the ice box, put a little in the pan and a lot on my fingers. My shirt gets stained with steak blood where he grabs me and both of us get little corner-shaped bruises from smacking into the countertop.

Our dinner burns.

We chew on overboiled potatoes and gently charred chuck roast and play a violent game of footsie beneath the table. I tell him about my venture into town, that word has it there’s a killer near these parts, but not to worry because the cops are on the case, that a woman even saw the man’s face.

He tells me the chickens are doing alright. Then he asks to use the truck after we’ve finished cleaning up.

I toss him the keys. “She lives out on Greenwood street,” I say. “Maryanne.”

I’m a light sleeper, so I hear him when he returns again. I know how my truck sounds pulling in.

“That her name, is it?” says the Rafter Man, and he’s gone.

“You wanna help me?” says the Rafter Man when I step onto the porch. He’s carrying a bucket and a sponge. 

“What did you do to my truck?” I ask. Her hood’s all bloody. Front tires, too. The headlights glow red with it.

Rafter Man slips out of bed in the very morning. He returns a while later, showered and clothes clean. He tastes like copper and spit and bitter coffee.

“Hit a deer,” says Rafter Man. I make him kiss me long and hard before I take the sponge.

“Aw,” I say. “Did you make me breakfast?”

“S just coffee,” Rafter Man grumbles. But his kisses are sweet.

We drink his coffee and scramble eggs after a lazy turn in the sheets. The mail man comes by so Rafter Man hurries toward the bedroom and I open the door.

“Maryanne went missing last night,” the mailman says, handing me my letters. “Her husband, too.”

“People disappear here, y’know,” I tell the Rafter Man. Wash the blood from his face. “You oughta stay here. Where it’s safe.”

“That’s a mighty shame,” I say. “You take care, now.”

“You’d let me?”

“Sure would.”

“I’d keep you safe,” he says. Eager as anything. “Make sure you don’t go disappearin’.”

“I know you would.” I say, kissing his bloodied teeth. “You ever gonna tell me why I found you that night?

He says, “Town thinks I’m a monster,” and I know from how soft he kisses that he ain’t.

[scene that will be added as per my prof's advice: since the cops know rafter man was headed toward the narrator's farm, their first meeting will get interrupted by knocking on the barn door. narrator will stuff rafter man into a horse stall and step outside to sweet talk the cops into leaving. he'll assure them that nothing is there except for him and his herd. rafter man ofc hears the whole thing, and when the cops leave + narrator pulls him back out of the stall, he's terrified that narrator is crazier than him and that he's about to meet the same fate as his victims. but then they fall in love instead :D]

[thorniest-rose]

Steddie (specifically your version of them) is very Tuck Everlasting. But darker???? Like a Steve x Eddie period piece?? I hope you get what I mean 😪

oh I've never seen Tuck Everlasting but I would love to write a dark period piece... gothic villain Eddie would be so delicious to write, maybe a Bluebeard tale where Eddie has killed his previous lovers and Steve is his new obsession, and one day he gifts Steve a ruby choker and when he wears it, it looks like a beautiful slit throat.

[chodzacaparodia]

Aand favourite all time ships from any media?

Apart from Bllk ships (in this ask), these are my favorite ships (I'll just mention them now, because seriously, I'll never finish answering this ask 😭😭)

Haikyuu!!: My absolute top, Sakuatsu, which is why I started writing fic! I also love Kuroken (!!!), Daisuga, Oisuga, Bokuaka, Kagehina, Asanoya, Tsukkiyama… MAN, Haiykuu!! has a lot of ships that I love. I love all of them, but the ones mentioned are my top.

From Tokyo Revengers, I love Chifuyu ships (because I love Chifuyu). Soo Bajifuyu, Kazufuyu, Ryufuyu… I love each of them in a different way, but equally much (although in my fics Rufuyu is always in the foreground)

From My Hero Academia, my top is Tododeku! Because of this ship, I started reading fics addictively. I love Deku ships in general, I also have a weakness for Shindeku. Kamijirou, EraserMic, Dabihawks are also great.

Kyoru from Fruits Basket It's life. I also love Rinharu. Ahhh in Fruits Basket everyone deserves love!

From Free!! I love Makoharu (my top), Reigisa, Sourin.

From Jujutsu Kaisen: Itafushi it's life. But Sukufushi fics and arts are also sooo good 😭 In general, I love it when characters simp over Megumi (I feel them lmao). Also Inuokko, Nobamaki, Chosoyuki, Satosugu..

From Bungou Stray Dogs: Ranpoe, Shin Soukoku, Soukoku, Suegiku.

Shiguang from Link Click is life.

Zosan and Acesan from One Piece, but I live different Sanji ships. (I still haven't watched anime, I only know Live Action, but through zosan fics I accidentally came across Acesan and ohhh soo good!)

Akiangel from Chainsaw Man.

Leopika and Killugon from Hunter x Hunter.

Sherliam from Moriarty the Patriot.

Hualian and Fengqing from Heaven Official's Blessing.

Eruri from Attack on Titan.

Renga and Matchablossom from SK8.

Victuuri and Otayuri from Yuri!!! On ice.

Daiharu from The Millionaire Detective: Balance Unlimited.

Narumi/Hirotaka and Kabakura/Koyanagi from Wotakoi.

Nick and Charlie from Heartstopper.

Pynch from The Raven Cycle!!

Andriel from The Foxhole Court!

Kanej from Six of Crows.

Wolfstar from Harry Potter.

Benmars from These Violent Delights.

Solangelo from Rick Riordan's books.

Okame/Daisuke and Yumeko/Tatsumi from Shadow of the Fox.

Ash/Megan from The Iron Fey.

Elle/Darien from Geekerella.

Isobel/Varen from Nevermore.

Darcy/Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice.

Raskolnikov/Sonya from Crime and Punishment.

Patrochilles from The Song of Achilles.

Gideon/Gwendolyn from The Ruby Red Trilogy.

Liam/Ruby from The Darkest Minds.

Newtmas (!!) from The Maze Runner.

Sterek from Teen Wolf.

Byler and Steddie from Stranger Things.

No no no, someone stop me! 🙈 I'm just a mega shipper and my heart has a lot of space when it comes to different ships 💖

(For sure I forgot about some ships 🙈)

Thank you so much for the ask! ♡ Have a nice day 💖

[the-daydream-menagerie]

丅ᕼᗴ ᗪᖇᗴᗩᗰᒪᎥ丅 ᑕᗝᑎᔕ丅ᗴᒪᒪᗩ丅Ꭵᗝᑎᔕ

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ Fandom + Work collection !! ٠࣪⭑

── .✦ Fandom List

── .✦ Au and Post Masterlist

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ Fandoms ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Key : Italics = big au/fic idea/ocs, bold = hyperfixation, Colored = current special interest/past special interest/Comfort Media, strike through = not caught up, plz no spoils :3 || This is just a big list of what I like- I will make this a separate post at some point, alongside my aus and masterlist hopefully. Not guaranteed to post ab every single one of these, but if you ever wanna talk ab them, I am your guy.

Tv + Movies: Steven Universe, The Owl House, Arcane, Helluva Boss, Hazbin Hotel, The Gaslight District, The Amazing Digital Circus, Murder Drones, Atlas and the Stars, Gravity Falls, Nimona, Ghosts (bbc and us), Harry Potter, My Babysitters a Vampire, Our Flag Means Death, Bobs Burgers, Rick and Morty Camp Camp, I Saw the TV Glow, Ever After High, Monster High, Into+Across the Spiderverse, Nightmare before Christmas, In a Heartbeat, Bluey, RWBY, Disney, Jujutsu Kaisen, ID:Invaded, Dandadan, Drifting Dragons, Kakegurui, Kpop Demon Hunters

Games: Little Nightmares, Slime Rancher, Fnaf, Minecraft, Genshin Impact, Honkai: Star Rail, Zenless Zone Zero, Sally Face, Fran Bow, Bendy, Poppy Playtime, Undertale, Cult of the Lamb Danganronpa, Monument Valley, Dnd, Sims 4, Creatures of Sonaria, What Remains of Edith Finch, Subnautica, Reanimal, Night in the Woods, Cookie Run, Broken Age

Other: MY OC/PARACOSM/ORIGINAL WORK!! MCYT (Ldshadowlady, Grian, Smallishbeans, Goodtimewithscar, Geminitay, Mumbo, currently trying to get into/back into Etho, Cubfan, ZombieCleo, Inthelittlewood, SolidarityGaming, Ranboo, Tommyinnit, and Tubbo. Specific smps, not caught up w any: Hermitcraft- 10+8+9+7+6-, Empires, Life Series), Dream Catchers, Hope Kids

Things I like by proxy of boyfriend + friends but am not rlly into: Cyberpunk, My Little Pony, Elden Ring

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ Post + Au Masterlist ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦

ᯓ★ Hermitcraft + Life Series ⤷ "Mumbo's Marvelous Machines" Au - Intro Post, ideas pt1, ⤷ "Lifetale" Au - first intro post, bad sketches ⤷ misc - Life Winner eye hcs, (Slime) Rancher Duo, Scarian Valley

ᯓ★ Hazbin Hotel + Helluva Boss - Eva Aeris, Vision + Vixen reference, Stoliz writing headcanons

ᯓ★ Harry Potter ⤷ "Deaths Gift" Au - Intro Post, Rehka Sketch ⤷ Drarry works - Draco's Secret, wip runaway draco au: chrimmy edition, If drarry met first drabble, timetravel drarry meme, drarry daydream prompt, Drarry cosplaying Scarian, BDD- Smoke Kiss,

ᯓ★ The Owl House ⤷ "Tower of Titans" Au - ⤷ "The Only Way... Titans Blood" Au -

ᯓ★ No Hope Kids - Introduction, Chapter One, Chapter Two

ᯓ★ Poppy Playtime - Doey Headcanons, Nightmare Critters hc, human/highschool au, pptxfnaf, slasher/villian au

ᯓ★ Stranger Things - "Barbara, The Queen" au, Steddie Henderson au

ᯓ★ Ocs ⤷ Prompts - Italian + Korean fusion chef grandmas, Time travelling DJ (aka Muse), Multidimensional oc maker, magician + invis sidekick, Musical Polycule, Lesser Omniglot, Stoner god + weed world, facecam mind reader, Mr. Truesight, Humans are Space Orcs- Undiscovered Sea Creature, ⤷ Dnd - Umene art dump, Umene ref sheet, Muse ref sheet, Unzi art dump ⤷ Chryportia - none yet, surprisingly I thought I had posted some ocs turns out I hadn't. This will change. ⤷ Others - Spiderverse oc poem, Sasara Saito Vision Origin, Su diamond ocs,

ᯓ★ Misc - Unfinished Salvis Smut, "Ruby Waterfall" gangle x femjax, Rasberry x chilli pepper cookie au, JJKxMHA, "I Will Always be Above You" Florence x Celia DE! fic

All graphics made by @/sister-lucifer, dm for removal.

[stevebabey]

pre-steddie, post the events of s4, and some good ol' steve harrington gets some new glasses <3, 2k-ish

There was a time where Steve would've rather died than wear them.

Then he did nearly die—several times over, actually.

But if Steve had to sum up what he actually gained from the horrific annual monster-hunting bullshit—besides the scars and trauma, of course—he would say perspective.

It's a lot easier to see what matters on the other side of the end of the world. Or in Steve's case, it's actually harder to see. And he should've totally been wearing those prescription glasses his parents bought him back in the seventh grade.

Maybe then, instead of an occasionally foggy memory and migraines, he'd be a little better off.

But as things go, he hadn't worn them. No, instead, when he was a foolish 13-year-old, Steve had hidden the glasses. Pretended they got lost. Fibbed while knowing exactly where in the house he'd stashed them.

It had certainly earned him an earful of chastising, as well as an actual sore ear from how his mother had pinched it tightly. But, either way, in the end he'd got what he wanted.

Sure, it definitely made it harder on his grades. More often than not, if Steve didn't cop one of the seats closer to the front of class, he'd earn himself a headache from all his squinting. But it was worth it because at least he wouldn't look uncool. Popular kids never wore glasses.

And then... years later, a couple brushes with his fragile morality, old friends turned enemies and new friends, genuine friends earned... he gets perspective.

This is all to say, Robin finally convinces him to wear his glasses again.

Well, actually, the doctor had been the one to convince he needed to wear them, given all the other problems he'd gathered from his mounting concussions.

Robin had been the one to somewhat bully ("Lovingly!" She'd protest) him into actually wearing them. An uphill battle she had been determined to win, despite all Steve's abject objections.

She won. They'd gotten him new frames, made sure the prescription was up to date and that Steve didn't completely hate the way they looked.

But even though they didn't look anything like the smaller pair still tucked away in a shoebox beneath his bed, collecting dust, there's still a hesitance to wear them.

But... perspective.

It's what Steve keeps trying to hold onto as he scrunches his nose down at the glasses in the case in his hands. The lenses glint in the fluorescents of Family Video.

He huffs and picks them out, unfolding the arms gently. Looking a little stupid was better than getting another migraine at work, he decides.

He stores the case beneath the counter and sits back down at the computer, hands in his laps, the wire-rim glasses in his fingertips.

You put these on and you may as well just declare the 'You Suck' side a forever winner. Some part of him whispers meanly. Not as if you're much of a looker anymore. It's a sliver of that slimy ego lurking within him. Steve's mouth twists as he does his best to shove it away.

It's true, to some extent. That last run-in with the Upside Down had left its mark well and truly. Along his chin, rippling down toward and along his jaw, is a scar where the skin split and had to be patched back together. The discoloration of it makes it impossible to miss.

Robin says chicks dig scars. But even if she's right and not just saying it to banish the sad lilt in his voice, there's still some part of Steve that wants to cling to what once made him important. What made people look at him, pay attention to him.

The point is wearing the glasses isn't just about wearing the glasses.

But Steve also isn't trying to be all about appearances anymore — so if they made him look... worse, then so be it.

He slides them on and tilts his head up, focusing on the screen. The pixels on the computer sharpen and the blurriness of his surroundings saps away, smoothing out his field of vision. Steve blinks.

It's much different to how it was trying them on at the doctor's office. He's in familiar turf now and as he blinks again, looks around, Steve realises how many details he's been missing. Holy shit. Can Robin see this well? All the time?

He can read the things all the way across the room — can parse out the poster titles without having to squint in the slightest. Jesus Christ, should he even have been allowed to drive—

The bell on the door chimes and Steve turns instinctively.

"Oh! Steve, you're wearing them!"

It's Robin, dropped off by none other than Eddie, for the half-shift she shares with Steve on Thursday afternoons. Sure, she could bike from school, but it’s getting icier in the mornings and Steve likes to drop her off before his shift.

Eddie takes the other half. If that means he also meanders into Family Video to hang around for a half hour and talk to Steve? Well, Steve’s got no problem with that at all.

They’re friends. Hard not to be, given the circumstance of their springtime shared together. It's not exactly something Steve ever predicted happening, but considering his newfound perspective, he's taken it in stride as one of the pros of the whole situation.

Except with his newly corrected vision, two things change simultaneously.

Behind Robin, Eddie steps into the Family Video and Steve suddenly sees Eddie Munson with a reverent clarity.

Has Eddie always looked like... that?

With his glasses, Steve can see the true brown in his eyes and the brightness in them as they meet Steve’s own. He can see the sweeping lashes that kiss in the corner, the strong line of his nose.

The curve of Eddie’s bottom lip and the blister in the middle of it, chewed too frequently, pinker than his lips. He sees the faintest of freckles, hidden in his hairline, and—

— he sees the exact moment Eddie clocks the glasses.

Because Eddie stops, midway through the door, full-body stutters and then just halts. The door he'd pulled open swings and hits him in the back.

Right. There's a neon-bright sign from the universe that Steve does, in fact, look as stupid as he feared. Embarrassment wells up inside him, hot and itchy.

Steve whips the glasses off so fast they hit the counter and bounce over, onto the ground.

"Jeez!" Robin jumps, for which Steve can't blame her for considering both he and Eddie made two loud noises in the space of roughly two seconds. She looks over her shoulder to see Eddie's frozen figure and mutters, "Oh, I'm clocking in." Then disappears out the back.

Steve watches her go, already missing the clarity of his glasses but hell if he's putting them back on. Not after that god-awful reaction. They can get trod on by customers for all he cares.

God, okay, so maybe that's an overreaction (those things are expensive) but also, this was the first test in trying them out in public.

Look, Robin's obviously his best-friend but shit, he was hoping she wasn't straight up lying to him telling him they looked good.

How did this turn into 13-year-old Steve's exact nightmare?

Eddie only seems to realise he's still stuck in place when the chime of the door bell sounds once again, alerting Steve of his presence—as if he could ignore that reaction coming in.

Well, at least it was an honest reaction.

How much were contacts again?

Steve pushes back from the counter with a sigh, beginning to head round to retrieve the glasses from the floor. Except, the movement seems to kickstart Eddie and he scrambles forward so that when Steve straightens up, glasses in hand, Eddie's right before him.

Brown eyes wide. Expression... serious?

"You didn't tell me you wore glasses." Eddie says. He sounds almost breathless.

"Yeah, well, not anymore." Steve replies dryly, heading back around the counter.

Eddie tracks him as he goes, looking almost devastated at what he's hearing. He stumbles in closer, palms pressing against the counter, and leans forward as Steve retrieves the case.

"What do you mean? What do you mean not anymore?"

He sounds a little panicked now.

Steve levels him with a flat stare. "C'mon man, I know what a bad reaction looks like when I see one—"

But Eddie's shaking his head furiously, hands flying as he does everything to signal the word no. "Nope, no you do not. That— nuh uh. Will you put them on again? Please?"

"No way!"

"Steve, I promise you that was not a bad reaction. That was- was-" Eddie stammers for the right words before pivoting. "Can you just put them on again? Please put them on again?"

It's the genuineness in Eddie's tone that actually gets Steve to pause. He glances down at the glasses in his hand, hovering midway to the case, and then back up to Eddie.

Is this some elaborate way to make fun of him? No, Eddie wouldn't. But then what?

The pause is long enough for Eddie to spring into action and he slowly reaches out, heading for the glasses in Steve's hands. Eyeing him hesitantly, Steve reluctantly lets him take them from him, unfolding them with his ringed fingers.

Then, he holds them out and up. Through the lenses, he can see the detail of Eddie's face once more and he swallows. His fingertips brush Eddie's as he takes them and slides them back onto his face.

It takes another blink to get used to the change and in this time, Steve notices, Eddie has managed to turn a wonderful shade of pink.

Steve can see it in much better detail than usual as well, can track how it seems to crawl up his neck. He bets the tips of Eddie's ears are red too, hidden amongst his wild curls. He's blushing. He's blushing?

And he's smiling too, this maddening curl to his lips, as he drinks in Steve and his new glasses with a hungry gaze that darts all over his face.

Man, Steve thinks absently, using the moment of quiet to examine all those new details of Eddie's face, how long has Eddie been pretty?

Then Eddie huffs a disbelieving laugh and Steve's stomach drops.

It must show on his face because instantly Eddie's hands are up, waving away the thought in Steve's head. "No, no, no! Not bad! Just... Jesus Christ," He mutters the last part into his shoulder, his face turned away for a moment.

"I just actually didn't think it was, uh," He coughs. "Like, possible for you to get any hotter."

“What?” Steve says.

That's what that reaction was? Something fizzles inside him, suddenly feeling pleased as punch.

“What?” Eddie parrots.

The pink in his face has dipped closer to crimson and if it keeps going that way, Steve reckons he could roast marshmallows over it.

Steve shifts on his feet, reaching up and running a nervous hand through his hair. Sure, he said wanted attention but this is something new, something different. He's not sure if he likes it just yet.

Eddie watches the motion, wide eyes glued to his hand, and when he catches Steve's questioning gaze through his glasses, he does a full 180 turn away from the counter.

"Oh my god, I'm so gay," He mutters, in a breath that Steve probably wasn't supposed to hear.

Steve's eyebrows raise. It sounds like... and he could be wrong here, but it sounds like Eddie likes his new glasses. Very much so.

And that makes Steve feel... good. Really good. Top of his game, one tally in the You Rule side of the board, good.

Eddie turns back and fixes a smile that Steve is sure isn't supposed to look that crazy. Steve reaches up and nudges the glasses further up his nose with his knuckle idly.

"So," Steve says, the uncertainty in his voice not false. "You don't think they look... bad?"

"Nope," Eddie squeaks out.

His smile has gotten a little more deranged. Then, in one big breath he says, "Tell Robin she betrayed me and I'll see you later-bye!" and peels out of the Family Video, the door-chime announcing his departure.

Robin treads out from the back-room, her Family Video vest on now and she surveys the store as she walks. Upon finding only Steve, her brows wrinkle together.

"Where'd Eddie go?"

Steve shrugs. "Dunno. Left in a hurry. Told me to tell you that you betrayed him or somethin'." He makes quotation marks with his fingers.

Robin frowns harder at that, her puzzling face on. A moment later, it melds away into a deviousness that means Steve instantly knows he's missing out on some inside joke. Especially when Robin starts to cackle, laughing so much that she has to hide a snort in her palm.

"What?" Steve all but pouts. "What is it? Tell me."

Robin, still laughing, snags the returns trolley and begins to wander backward. "Trust me, Steve. You'll want to figure this one out on your own. Either way, I think you should wear your glasses around Eddie again. Preferably while I'm there to watch."

She wiggles her brows as she disappears around an aisle, still wandering backward. Steve hears the moment she bumps into a shelf and snickers at her responding ow!

He turns back to the computer and settles in the seat, nudging the glasses up his nose once more. Huh. So Eddie likes the glasses. Maybe they weren't so bad.

And if Steve got to see that blush again, in glorious good-vision detail? Then that wouldn't be so bad either.

[disastardly]

Tagged by @eriquin and ready to goooooooo! It's a light week at work and that means I've got time to write, so send me as many requests as you're feeling and I'll knock them out.

Titles:

1 - Emergence

A Brother is Born for Adversity (Kelvin x Keefe)

Magical Mysteries Never Give a Single Thing Back (Eddie Crossroads Demon)

0 - Tales from the Outer Planes

Steddie Witches AU

Snippet below the cut!

From 1 - Emergence, which is consuming my brain lately:

Leanbow’s blade caught Morticon’s. The undead leaned in, shouting obscenities, refusing to accept that the Gates were closed. They traded blows, words, blood and ichor. Leanbow was grinning the whole time, the grim rictus of inevitability hanging heavy as Morticon, unliving and tireless, wore him down. The crimson skies roiled, Hidiacs and Styxoids swarming from every direction. Nick’s hand itched for his sword, to jump in and help Leanbow fight them off, to prevent any of this from ever happening, but it wasn’t real. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t help, as much as he wanted to fight, so bad it drove his heel into the dirt, sent his hand to his side where his blade should be, but– Nothing he could do now, nothing about the steel in his soul or the iron tang in the air or the shining ruby flare of Power that burst out and– Power? “Oh.” A single word, so simple but somehow encapsulating everything, tumbled from Udonna’s mouth, and Nick couldn’t help but agree. “Woah.”

No-pressure tags: @hairstevington @patchworkgargoyle @horsegirleddiemunson and anyone else who sees this and wants to submit to the WIP Wednesday gods.

WIP Wednesday Game

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. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

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

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

Friends @fiore-della-valle @redbirdblogs @greenbergsays @idkfandomwhatever @luckyspike

@obaewankenope @mad-madam-m @anonymousdandelion @geometricfractal @prettybirdy979

@eriquin | Requests @aparticularbandit @madnessfromthemountains @makeroftherunes @1attheedge

@whimsicalmeerkat @kidsomeday @lizhly-writes @skyderman @adhdavinci

@owlbearwrites @anachronismstellar @anyctibius @rilannon @lazinesswrites

@zyrafowe-sny @dreaminghour @blue-eyedbeta @candyskiez @dreamerking27

@kalira

[redrosydiaz]

here’s a secret u didn’t ask for; if i write a little steddie piece and you reblog it, i consider it an automatic success (meets the mack standard)!! bcos you are so cool and i think i’ve loved every steddie fic you’ve reblogged so to have u reblog my writing? well i musta done something right :’)

RUBY!!! omg 🥺🥺 stop it you are SO sweet ahh!! tysm 🥰🥰 but omg your writing is SO good, how could i not love it!!! you absolutely are doing everything right so keep it up, i love seeing your stuff pop up in my dash!! and i absolutely ADORED your latest steddie piece, it was just perfect!!! 💕💕

[graveincarnate]

WELCOME! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

As of right now, this page is dedicated to all sorts of fanfiction! I write x readers, canon ship fics, etc! I have five main fandoms that I stick to, but odds are if you request something else I’ll give it a shot too; if i’ve seen the source material of course.

PAUL DANO CINEMATIC UNIVERSE:

Klitz (The Girl Next Door)

Dwayne Hoover (Little Miss Sunshine) ~ NO NSFW!

Edward Nashton (The Batman)

Calvin Weir-Fields (Ruby Sparks)

Brian Wilcox (Fast Food Nation)

Martin Blythe (The Emperor’s Club) ~ NO NSFW!

Thaddius (The Ballad of Jack and Rose)

Paul Sandow (The King)

Don/Light (Light and the Sufferer)

Eli Brooks (The Girl Next Door)

SHIPS:

Klitz & Eli

Riddlebat (Bruce and Edward)

I’ve seen all of Paul’s filmography so if there’s a character not listed here that you’re looking for, I’m still open to writing them! These are just the ones that I feel most comfortable writing.

STRANGER THINGS:

Eddie Munson

Nancy Wheeler

Robin Buckley ~ WLW ONLY

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Mike Wheeler ~ NO NSFW

Will Byers ~ NO NSFW, MLM ONLY

Max Mayfield ~ NO NSFW

Jim Hopper

Fred Benson

Chrissy Cunningham

SHIPS:

Jancy (Jonathan and Nancy)

Stancy (Steve and Nancy)

Mileven (Mike and Eleven)

Byler (Will and Mike)

Lumax (Max and Lucas)

Steddie (Steve and Eddie)

IT:

Eddie Kaspbrak

Richie Tozier

Beverly Marsh

Stanley Uris

SHIPS:

Reddie (Richie and Eddie)

Benverly (Ben and Beverly)

Stenbrough (Stan and Bill)

Stanlon (Stan and Mike)

No nsfw for when they’re kids, obviously, but I am flexible with high school and college settings if that’s what you’re after. Regarding adult era, obviously nsfw is okay! Just please specify which era you want when requesting.

THE QUARRY:

Dylan (MLM ONLY)

Ryan

Emma

Abigail

Jacob

Laura

Kaitlyn

Nick

SHIPS:

Dylan and Ryan

Abigail and Emma

Jacob and Emma

UNTIL DAWN:

Sam

Josh

Ashley

Chris

Jessica

Matt

Emily

Mike

REQUESTS AND BOUNDARIES:

Requests will always be open, here’s a short list of things I will write and won’t write. I hope it’ll be helpful when requesting!

WILL WRITE:

Headcanons, fics, drabbles, oneshots, etc.

Fluff, platonic, nsfw/nsft, and anything else in-between.

Things involving drugs, preferably just marijuana, but I’ll consider harder substances if asked.

Any sort of kink, I have a few exceptions which will be featured in the ‘won’t write’ section. Anything else is free reign.

I’ll consider topics including self harm or other things of that matter, but if I feel the request is romanticizing or glamorizing mental illness it won’t be accepted. It’s important to me that depictions like that are accurate.

Female, male, and non-binary/gender neutral readers. I normally keep everything gender neutral just for more inclusivity, but if asked specifically I’ll accommodate. When requesting please specify afab or amab! If not specified I’ll try to keep it ambiguous, or offer both.

WON’T WRITE:

Kinks including: Any sort of non-con, pee, scat, or snuff. Really anything involving bodily fluids or intense violence.

Requests with names or anything specific, I want to be as inclusive as possible so anything that’s specific to a single person will be denied!

Things involving abuse of any kind (sexual, physical, emotional)

Any sort of fic about real people, this is non-negotiable!

Incest or any other taboo subject.

Please don’t be afraid to request something! I’m always itching to write and will be more than happy to write something for you!

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.