Feel free to come find me on ao3 for more fluff and way too much omegaverse https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsHideYourFires/works
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Omega Steve crying on the bathroom floor next to a positive pregnancy test because he wants this baby so bad, but he never wanted to trap Eddie. He wants Eddie to stay for him.
vs.
Alpha Eddie who has had a ring box in his pocket for a month looking for the perfect opportunity to propose.
💍💍💍
Today’s going to be the day. Eddie’s decided that it has to be since he keeps overthinking it and chickening out. That’s why he went to get a pep talk from Wayne, a little reassurance that anyone with eyes can tell Steve will say yes.
He squeezes the little box in his pocket as he runs up the stairs to his and Steve’s apartment, and squares his shoulders as he opens the door. “Baby!” he calls, “I’m home!”
Normally, Steve would yell back or come to meet him, but the apartment is worryingly quiet. And the sour scent of a distressed omega fills the air.
Steve either can’t, or won’t answer him, so Eddie follows his nose, quickly finding his way to the closed bathroom door. “Baby? What’s wrong?” he asks gently, hand on the knob. He doesn’t turn it, waiting for an invitation, but all he hears are soft whimpers from the other side. His pulse jumps, worry winning out as he works the knob. “Steve?”
The knob stops short. It’s locked.
Steve never locks the bathroom door. He is a firm believer that if they live together, he’s not going to pretend he doesn’t poop. So at least Eddie can rule out Steve suffering through diarrhea.
It doesn’t make him feel much better.
Eddie taps at the door. “Sweetheart, can I please come in?”
Steve just whimpers louder.
“Please, baby,” Eddie begs, his own voice sounding watery, “I just wanna make sure you aren’t hurt.”
He hears a gentle shuffling, followed by a whimpered, “I fucked up, Eddie.”
“Steve, hey-”
“I really fucked up.” Now Steve’s crying hard, the kind of weeping that makes Eddie’s instincts howl. His omega is hurting—is scared—and he just wants to bring Steve to their den, to cuddle in their nest and keep his mate safe. Because that’s what Steve is to him, even if it isn’t official yet. So it hurts all the worse when Steve moans, “I fucked up, I’m sorry.”
“Steve, baby, it’ll be okay. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. Just let me in, please.” Eddie futilely turns the knob again, smacks his palm against the wood of the jamb. He takes a breath. Panicking won’t help anyone. Then he takes a step back, prepares to kick the door open—he can replace a door, he can’t replace Steve—when he hears the lock click.
Eddie fumbles for the knob, his nerves getting the better of him, but he gets the door open, sour distress so much stronger as he moves into Steve’s space. He’s quick to look him over for injuries, hands running up his arms and along his back, up into his hair to make extra sure. At least Steve leans into the touch. At least he hides his face against Eddie’s shoulder as he silently weeps.
“It’ll be okay, baby, I’m here. Not going anywhere.”
That makes Steve cry harder.
Then Eddie sees it: the box in the trash.
Omega’s Choice Pregnancy Test - Results you can trust in only 5 MINUTES
He glances around, easily finds the little plastic stick on the floor near Steve’s feet, sees the pair of blue lines in the window.
“I fucked up,” Steve moans again, his words a little muffled by Eddie’s chest.
“You didn’t fuck up,” Eddie promises, rubbing small circles over Steve’s spine. “You’re perfect, baby.”
“I did! I trapped you!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“But I did!”
“Steve, it isn’t much of a trap when you’ve been very up front about wanting kids. And about quote, ‘I want you to come so deep inside me that it goes back in time and makes me pregnant a week ago,’ unquote.”
Steve blushes, tries to deflect. “That’s just sexy talk. Heat of the moment stuff.”
“We ran out of condoms two months ago and you told me not to buy more.”
Facing crumbling in pain, Steve shouts, “But now you’re only gonna stay for the baby!”
That hurts worse than a slap. But he knows how fucked Steve’s parents’ marriage is, how they made it very clear that they stayed together because of him. Not even *for* him. Trapped.
“I love you, Steve. Us having a baby just means I get to love you both. No one is trapped. I’m pretty damn sure I’m right where I want to be. Almost.”
Steve sniffles, finally looking at Eddie with red, puffy eyes. “Almost?”
Smiling, Eddie goes down on one knee, keeping hold of Steve’s hand. “Marry me, Steve.”
“No. Nononono. Eddie, see, I trapped you! You can’t ask me to marry you just because I’m pregnant!” Steve moans, feebly pulling his hand back.
Eddie holds on tight with one hand, reaches into his pocket with the other and pulls out the ring box. He flicks it open, revealing a simple platinum band with a single star-incised diamond. “I’ve been trying to find the perfect time to ask you since your birthday. You can ask Robin; she helped pick the ring. Or ask Wayne! He told me I’d better ask you today, or he’d do it for me!” Eddie smiles one of his crooked little grins up at Steve and places the ring box in his palm. “I’ve been planning to marry you ever since our first kiss. And I’ve been planning to give you babies just about as long, because you will be such a great mom. I can’t imagine a more perfect person for me, Steve, than you. I want *everything* with you, so please, marry me.”
Steve’s lower lip quivers. “Everything?”
“Everything and always.”
“Okay,” Steve says with a nod and—finally—some happy tears. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Eddie.”
Steve has Eddie slide the ring into his finger before he allows the alpha to stand, happily melting into a kiss when he does. “I love you,” he whispers against Steve’s lips. “Now how about we go try to get you pregnant again to celebrate?”
#steddie#omegaverse#fanfiction#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#stranger things fic#ficlet#mpreg#eddie munson#steve harrington
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AU where Eddie has been arguing with someone via writing on the bathroom walls at the movie theater about how the new Star Trek movie sucks ass. Eddie thinks it’s the worst movie he’s ever seen but this guy says that it’s great and Eddie is an idiot for ‘not understanding’ it.
Eddie thinks he’s arguing with some sci-fi nerd but he’s actually arguing with the king of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington.
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Include nonprofessional productions, like community theater or school plays. This is asking only about seeing them live– do not include times you've watched recordings of plays/musicals. DO include shows you've seen multiple times. For any productions you were involved in (as cast/crew/etc), use your own judgement to decide if that counts.
If you don't know the exact number, just make your best estimate.
–
We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.
#I think I’m somewhere in the 400s#but I was a theatre major#and a lot of my friends still do theater regularly
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Stranger Things Season 1: you need spacesuits to be in the upside down
Stranger Things Season 4: Steve breasted boobily into the upside down to fight bats sensually with his teeth
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Stolen Series Now on AO3
Pairing: Steddie CW: Omegaverse, Kidnapping, Pregnancy, Birth, Alpha!Eddie, Omega!Steve, Abusive parenting, canon typical violence, omegaphobia, Dick Harrington is just Shit. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | LINK TO FULL FIC
⌛ A Year Later ⌛
There's light streaming out from the doorway to the bedroom. It illuminates the hallway in a soft yellow glow with the first notes of Steve's favourite Journey song floating through the air towards Eddie. He can hear Steve singing along, slightly off key, humming the parts he doesn't remember.
Eddie shrugs his outer layers off as he toes closer to the room.
Through the crack of the door he spies the omega inside, just like he had all those months ago in the bathroom of his trailer. White billows across his vision, thin cotton a signature of Steve's home wardrobe now days, as the omega floats around the room nesting. Eddie's eyes track the fluttering of lace and cotton, tracing the curves of Steve's body that have filled out over the months with proper care and nutrition and love.
Weeks of showing Steve that he was safe, giving him space, letting him make his own space in Eddie's own had paid off, in the form of a Steve that smiled, that laughed, that had supple curves back on his body.
Eddie has never seen anything more beautiful than the person in his bedroom, the one currently fussing over the arrangement of Dustin's hoodies over Lucas's jerseys. He used to sneak glances at Steve Harrington in gym, the young jock who stood stoic while his friends jeered and bullied, used to think it was a pity someone so pretty was so nasty, was a jock. Now it hardly seems to matter, because he hadn't known that Steve and Steve hadn't known him. This Steve, this one he's now had the honor of sharing a space with, is so different than that hollow afterimage of a boy fighting demons in his own home.
This Steve makes something in his heart glow and stokes the fire in belly like hot coals in their living room fireplace. It licks at his throat like the hunger that had first awakened all those months ago when Steve had first popped into his life.
Ginger tickles at his nose.
Read the latests part -> HERE
Tag list: @bumblebeecuttlefishes @deadflowercollector @crazyhatlady86 @flustratedcas @dreamy-jeans137
@marisughh @shunna @tinyplanet95 @wheneverfeasible @yesdangerpls
@geekymagicalpotato @gutterflower77 @strangersteddierthings @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @ellietheasexylibrarian
@ajeff855 @ravenfrog @sanctumdemunson @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @foolishness-and-confusion
@fracturedfaultline @theohohmoment @estrellami-1 @gloomysoup @warlordess
@honhonbaguettegofuckyourself @colidamae @steddieislife @depressed-freak13 @myherometalhead
@holyangelstudentuniverse @trekkiepirate @grtwdsmwhr @beeeeeeeeeeeeeeens @foxes-n-frogs
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Jonathan Joss , HIV funding, KOSA
NO DISCOURSE. GET THE BRICKS.
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idk how to word this properly but wrt the fanfic thing you reblogged earlier. Why do fanfic writers have such different expectations than any other content hosting platform?
Like lets take youtube as a point of comparison, Engagement like comments and likes largely exists to boost the works place in algorithm, thats why youtubers put in calls to action and other engament bait. Few with decent reach even read the comments and the audience shouldnt try to develop any weird parasocial relationship with the youtuber. Fanfic authors ask for likes (kudos, because the websites gotta use nonstandard language for some reason) and comments despite them not having any impact on an algorithm, and seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author based on tumblr posts like that one.
Why the radical difference in behaviour away from the norm? And honestly with all the (usually) metaphorical blood spilled online about parasociality why are authors really surprised that the audience tries to keep their distance as is best practice with any other content producer?
okay I am going to answer this as kindly and as calmly as I can and try to assume that you are asking this in good faith. because my friend, the fact that you feel the need to ask is, to me, The Problem.
[this is, for the record, in response to this post]
fanfiction writers are not *posting content.* (I also have reservations about engaging with the term "content producer" or "content creator" but let's put that aside for now, I'll circle back to it.) you say "they seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author" as though it is strange, off-putting, and incomprehensible to you, when in fact that is the point of writing fanfiction. it is a way of participating in fandom. it is a way of building community and exchanging ideas and becoming closer with people.
if authors wanted to solely ~generate content~ that would get them attention (?? to what end, the dynamic you have described seems to equate algorithmic supremacy as winning for winning's sake, as though all anyone wants to do is BUILD an audience without ENGAGING with them, which I cannot fathom but let's pretend for a moment that is, in fact, true) then like. if that were the case why on earth would they choose a medium in which they categorically cannot succeed and profit, because it isn't their IP?
you are equating two things that are not at all the same thing. to the degree that parasocial relationships are to be avoided, and "that person is not trying to be your friend they are trying to entertain you, please respect their boundaries" is a real dynamic -- which it is!! -- like. you have to understand that the reason that is true for the people of whom it is true is because it is their JOB. they are storytellers by profession, and they are either through direct payment, or sponsorship, or advertising, or through some other means, profiting off of your attention. i don't say this to be dismissive, many wonderful artists and actors and comedians and any number of a thousand things that i enjoy very much go this route but they do so as a *career choice.* and so when you violate the public/private boundary with them, you are presuming to know a Person rather than their Worksona. the people who work at Dropout or who stream their actual play tabletop games or who broadcast on TikTok or YouTube are inviting me to feel like i know them to the degree to which that helps them succeed in their medium and at their craft, but there MUST be a mutual understanding that that's a feeling, not a fact.
however.
a fanfiction writer is not an influencer, not a professional, and is not looking to garner "success." there is no share of audience we are trying to gain for gain's sake, because we are not competition with one another, because there is nothing to win other than the pleasure of each other's company. we are doing this for no other reason than the love of the game; because we have things we want desperately to say about these worlds, these characters, these dynamics, and because we *want more than anything to know we are not alone in our thoughts and feelings.* fanfiction is a bid for interaction, engagement, attention, and consideration. it is not meant to be consumed and then moved on from because we are NOT paid for our work, nor do we want to be. the reward we seek is "attention," but attention as in CONVERSATION, not attention as in clicks. we are not IN this for profit, or for number-go-up. there is no such thing: legally there cannot be. we are in this because we want to be seen and known.
like. please understand. i am now married to someone i met because of mutual comments on fanfiction. our close friend and roommate, with whom i have cohabitated for over a decade now, is someone I met because of mutual comments on fanfiction and livejournal posts. that is my household. beyond my household, the vast majority of my closest personal friends are people with whom I built relationships in this way.
you ask why fanfiction writers want THIS and not "the norm," but the idea of everything being built to cater to an algorithm to continue to build clout, as though the only method of reaching people is Distant Overlord Creator and Passive Receptive Audience being "the norm" is EXTREMELY NEW. this is not how it has always been!! please think of the writers of zines in a pre-internet fandom, using paper and glue and xerox to try and meet like-minded people in a world that was designed for you to only ever meet people in person, by happenstance, in your own hometown. imagine the writers of the early internet, building webrings from scratch to CREATE a community to find each other, despite distance. imagine livejournal groups, forums, and -- yes, indeed, of course -- comment threads IN STORIES -- as places where people go to *converse.* in the past, we had an entire Type Of Guy that everyone knew about, the BNF ("Big Name Fan") whose existence had to be described via meme because it was SO DIFFERENT THAN THE NORM. treating fellow fans like celebrities or people too cool for the regular kids to know was an OUTLIER, and one commonly understood to lead to toxicity.
in the past, I have likened writing fanfiction to echolocation. i am not screaming because I like hearing the sound of my own voice, though i can and do find my voice beautiful. i am screaming so that the vibrations can bounce back to me and show me the world. the purpose is in the feedback. otherwise it is just noise.
does this make any sense? can you see, when i describe it that way, why an ask like yours makes me feel despair, because it makes us all sound so horribly separate from one another?
perhaps I will try another metaphor:
a professional chef who runs a restaurant will not have her feelings hurt if you never fight your way into the kitchen to personally tell her how much you enjoyed the meal. that would, indeed, violate a boundary. professional kitchens are a place of work, and you have already showed her you enjoyed the meal by paying for it, or by perhaps spreading your enjoyment by word of mouth to your friends so they, too, can have good meals. you show your appreciation by continuing to come back. if a bunch of people sitting around randomly happen to have a conversation about how much they love the food, it wouldn't hurt that chef's feelings to not be included in the conversation. however: EVEN IN THIS INSTANCE, it is ADVISABLE AND APPROPRIATE to leave a good review! you might post about how much you like this restaurant on Yelp, and it would probably make the chef feel great to see those positive comments. but the chef doesn't NEED them, because the chef is, again, *also being paid to cook.* that's why she started the restaurant, to be paid to cook!
i am not being paid to cook.
i am at home in my own kitchen, making things for a community potluck where i hope everyone will bring something we can all enjoy together. some people at the potluck are better bakers, some better cooks; some can't cook at all but are great at logistics and make sure there's enough napkins for everyone; some people come just to enjoy the food, because that's what the party is for. and if I, as this enthusiast chef who made something from my heart for this reason alone, learned after the fact that a bunch of people got together in the parking lot to rave about my dish but no one of them had ever bothered to tell me while I sat alone at my table all night, occasionally seeing people come by to pick up a plate but never saying anything to me -- of course that would bother me, because I am not otherwise profiting off the labor I put in. this is not a bid to be paid, because if someone WERE to say "hey, great cake!! here's five bucks for a slice" i would say no, friend, that is not the point and give them the money back. i'm not trying to Get Mine. I am in it to see the look on your face. I'm in it so you can tell me what about it moved you, so that I can say back what moved me to make it in the first place. so we can TALK about it.
because what happened in the first place is this: one time I had a cake whose sweetness, richness, flavor, intensity, and composition moved me so much that I *taught myself to bake.* so I could see how much vanilla and sugar was too much, so I could learn how to make things rise instead of fall flat, so I could even better appreciate the original cake by seeing for myself the effort and talent and inspiration that goes into making one even half as good.
learning to do so is a satisfying accomplishment in and of itself, yes.
but I also did it because at the end of the day we should EAT the cake. and it's a lonely thing, to eat alone when a meal was always designed and intended to be shared.
so, to answer your last question: i'm not surprised, i'm just sad. because somehow two things that were never meant to be seen as the same have been labeled "content," and thus identical. and it diminishes both the things that ARE intended to be paid for AND the things that are not, because it removes any sense of intimacy or meaning from the work.
i hope you know i'm not mad at you for asking. but i'm frustrated we've come to live in a world where the question needs to be asked, because the answers are no longer intuitively obvious because we're so siloed.
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Mother’s Love - part ten
part one, part nine
steddie, wenny, omegaverse, thank god marsha’s coming home soon
“I don’t know how many ways you want me to say it, but the last time I saw Billy Hargrove, I punched him in the face; I am perfectly willing to admit that.” Eddie points to his own bruises. “There was mutual punching. But he was standing and talking just fine when I went inside the Harringtons’ house. And he wasn’t in the driveway anymore when I left. You know how wooded it is over there, he could’ve been 100 feet away and I’d never have noticed him.” Eddie shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“And I’m sure you conducted a thorough search of the area when you found the car there. If he was there to find, you’d have found him,” Wayne adds, staring Powell down. “From what I know of his father… Lots of reasons for a teenage alpha to run away from home…”
“How do you know Neil Hargrove?”
“He was brought in by the higher-ups at the plant, something about efficiency, gets in a lot of tussles with the union.” Wayne shrugs too, arms crossed in a mirror of Eddie’s. “Seems like a hard man.”
“It would explain why he reported the car stolen…” Powell mutters to himself, but clear enough to hear. “If I have more questions, I’ll call. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Munson.”
“Yeah.” Eddie watches the cop walk away before retreating to the kitchen. The oven is definitely preheated by now.
❤️❤️❤️
“I still don’t see why we have to wait until tomorrow!”
“Because we ain’t running into this half-cocked! Whatever that thing was, we need a real plan, with as much info as possible, and for that we need Marsha.”
“My son is stuck with that thing! Benny, you can’t ask-”
“I ain’t asking, Joyce! There’s no asking in all this!”
“Mom, you know Benny’s right, we need to plan. And Will’s smart.”
“He’s worried about you too,” Steve adds, finally cutting into the panicked argument that has reduced them to talking in circles. “Will doesn’t want anyone else to get hurt.”
That starts Joyce crying, Jonathan holding her close, everyone else standing there even more awkward and uncomfortable.
Suddenly, a stick snaps behind them, Steve and Nancy both whirling around as Benny moves to put his body between Steve and any potential danger. Steve only manages to catch the faintest movement, but Nancy yells, “Mike! What the hell?”
Which allows Steve to bend around his mama and see the pups, all nervous at being caught, only shocked for a moment to realize there are four of them instead of the three he expects.
They’ve got a redheaded girl with them, too.
“You all should be at home,” Benny chides softly.
“We were just trying to help,” Dustin says, the boy going straight to Steve’s side, seeking comfort instinctually.
“Yeah, we were looking for clues,” Lucas adds.
Dustin has already tucked himself under Steve’s arm, and he looks up to say, “We started over by your house actually, since they found Will’s bike over on Kerley, and because of-” He cuts himself off, eyes darting over to the redhead.
Everyone’s eyes follow and Nancy asks, “Sorry, who are you?”
“Max Mayfield.”
“She’s Billy’s sister,” Mike adds.
“Step-sister,” Max clarifies coldly. “Now what the hell is going on in this weird town?”
❤️❤️❤️
“A monster…” That’s Dustin’s response to the very brief answer Nancy gives to Max’s question. Not that anyone but Steve hears it over the shouting from the other kids.
“A monster!” Lucas hisses, eyes darting between his friends before looking over to Steve.
“A monster’s got WILL!” Mike yells, looking around for something to fight with, like he’s ready to take the thing on himself.
“Monsters aren’t REAL,” Max insists, scowling as she turns to look at the adults. “I get that you wanna scare us off or whatever, but we aren’t babies.”
Benny shakes his head, squaring up with the redhead like he isn’t more than a foot and a half taller than she is. “Kid, I would love nothing more than to scare you off of poking your nose into all this—would love for the monster to be a fake—but I don’t think that’ll work, especially if you’ve thrown in your lot with these troublemakers.”
“Hey!” the boys all shout, ready to defend themselves, only to be quieted by a look from Benny.
“No matter what you think, there’s something prowling the woods, something not from here. We just ain’t sure where it is from, or what it’s doing. It can clearly go back, and back is…”
He hesitates, searching for the right word, only for Nancy to pipe, “Parallel.”
“Right, parallel to us. That’s how we know, Will’s finding ways to communicate-”
“WHAT!” from the boys.
“What about Billy?” Max asks.
“Billy didn’t go missing at the Byers,” Steve says with a shrug. “I only felt Will and that th-”
“FELT?” Dustin shouts, looking up at Steve, his kid-genius brain working overtime as his hand wraps around Steve’s fingers. “Steve?” he asks, quieter.
Steve glances over to his mama, and he knows he messed up. “No,” Benny says, gentle yet firm, “We are not bringing them into this, not now. You pups need to go home, and stay out of all this. I don’t want anyone else going missing.”
Joyce nods her agreement. “Will wouldn’t want anyone else getting hurt, especially not any of you.” She goes to Lucas and squeezes his shoulder, before turning to look around at the others. “Grab your bikes and head home. Jonathan needs to drop Nancy at home anyway, he’ll follow you in the car, make sure you all make it.”
There’s more grumbling from the pups, but they all know they’ve lost this fight. Steve gets hugs from Dustin and Lucas before they go to fetch their bicycles, while Mike completely ignores him, and Max keeps her eyes on him, like she’s trying to work out just what he meant, even if she doesn’t really know who he is or why he’s involved in all this.
They watch the kids leave, followed by Jonathan and Nancy, leaving Steve alone with Benny and Joyce. “We should go too,” Benny says, “I don’t like the idea of you and Jonathan here while that-”
“I’m not leaving! If Will is here-”
“He’s not,” Steve interrupts softly. “I could feel him leave.”
Tears fill Joyce’s eyes as she nods, repeating, “He’s good at hiding. Will’s always been good at hiding.”
“Right,” Benny agrees, “But you still shouldn’t be sleeping here. It’ll be a tight fit, but when Jonathan gets back, we can head over to my place.”
“Okay, yeah,” Joyce says, nodding more to herself than in agreement, suddenly so much quieter, the wind taken from her sails as she finally crashes from the adrenaline rush. A car passes on the road, gravel crunching under the tires, and she perks up. “What if Hopper comes? Maybe he’ll have news, and I should be here.”
“I highly doubt Hop will find anything to lead him towards the truth. And it’ll just be for the night. Like I said, we’re waiting for Marsha to get home.”
“Then maybe we should stay at the house,” Steve says, thinking out loud. “So we’re right there when Mom and Dad get back.”
Benny grumbles, pulling Steve to his chest. “Baby, after everything I don’t want you over there-”
“As far as I can tell, nowhere is perfectly safe, and Mom will freak out to get home to a crime scene, you know? But if we’re all together there, isn’t that better?”
His mother’s lips press to his hair. “Yeah, Baby, you’re right.” Benny turns to Joyce, face a bit grim, “Slight change of plans.”
❤️❤️❤️
The whole afternoon into evening, Wayne has kept everything light, for El’s sake. But now she’s asleep, tucked safely in Wayne’s nest with the shirt Steve slept in clutched to her chest. Now Wayne is pacing in the kitchen, glancing at the phone every few minutes.
“Looking at it won’t make it ring,” Eddie teases gently. They both know he’s as desperate to hear from Steve as Wayne is to hear from Benny. More importantly, they both know neither of them is going to call.
“Don’t sass me, Ed, not tonight,” Wayne says with a sigh.
“Sorry, just… I hate this. I really hate it.”
“Why don’t we put on the TV, take a little distraction time before we try and fail to sleep tonight,” Wayne offers, forcing a smile.
Eddie nods, ready to return to silence as he follows Wayne out to the couch. He lets Wayne flip through the channels, moving past the news as quickly as possible, and Eddie turns away to take a breath.
Looking out the window, Eddie notices movement at the end of the street. It’s a girl on a skateboard with red hair, the girl from the arcade over the summer…
“God damnit,” Eddie huffs, getting to his feet and heading out the front door.
“You aren’t being very sneaky,” the redhead says, barely glancing over her shoulder as Eddie jogs down the street after her.
“Neither are you, and in case you forgot, there’s a curfew.”
She stops, flips the end of her board up into her hand, and turns to glare up at Eddie. “Why do you even care? You don’t know me.”
Eddie takes a step to the side, moving into the yellow glow of the streetlight. He clocks the moment the girl notices the bruising on his face, her eyes bugging out. But she stands her ground, and Eddie can’t help smiling. “Kid, people are going missing.”
“I know,” she says, defensive and clearly irritated.
Eddie knows she knows. So he says just that. “I know. You’re Billy’s si-?” he starts, guessing at the relationship.
“Step-sister. And I know how you got that black eye. Munson.”
“Do you know why?” Eddie counters, tilting his head, getting a bit more defensive and irritated himself. “Fuck, not the point.” He shakes his head and turns, scrubbing a hand at the back of his neck. “I am not arguing about this with a child,” he huffs, mostly to himself.
Then she surprises him. “I know why, I have to live with the asshole.”
“You still need to go home. You don’t want your parents freaking out over both of you going missing.”
“Neil wouldn’t care, and I’ll be fine! I can take care of-”
“Kid, you have no idea-”
“It’s Max, and I know what I’m dealing with!” She drops her skateboard with a growl, stomping into Eddie’s space, a pup acting tough as she stares him down.
Eddie won’t be baited, shrugs, “I promise that you don’t.”
“I bet I know more than you do. How long has it been since you talked to Steve?”
A protective rumble starts in his throat, growl building. She isn’t even trying and she got right to the heart of him. “What’s Steve got to do with this?” he asks, only to switch gears immediately, scent souring as he asks, “How do you even know Steve?”
Her face softens then, and Max shrugs, bending to retrieve her board. “You know, don’t you? About the monster?”
“Max…” Eddie starts, feeling like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice water. “Please, go home. This is really fucking dangerous, and-”
“I need to know! Steve said he felt Will, and I just… I need to know if he’s gone.” Tear stains glimmer on her cheeks, and Eddie reaches out, ready to offer comfort, only for her to step back. “So, I’m going, and you can’t stop-”
“You won’t make it across town on your board. Someone will catch you—probably a cop—and drive you home. What happens when you get dropped off like that, hmm?”
Biting her lip, Max finally looks away from him. “I thought you’d at least understand. I need to know he’s gone,” she whispers.
“Okay,” Eddie says, because he does understand. When his dad finally went away for real, it was like he could finally get a full breath. No more waiting for Al to breeze back into his life and start breaking shit again. No more screaming matches that ended in Eddie running down the street before the storm door could slam behind him. No more hiding in his room and hoping he wouldn’t be noticed when Al was drunk.
He knows there’s more than one kind of monster in Hawkins.
“Grab your board, I’ll give you a ride, but I need to tell my uncle where I’m going first.”
“Does he know… About everything?”
“Yeah.”
“And he won’t try to make me go home?”
“Can’t guarantee that, but Wayne’s got other stuff on his plate. I’d be more worried about Benny.”
“I’ll take my chances.” Max leads him then, striding ahead, back down the street to the Munsons’ little house. His long legs allow Eddie to overtake her, and he opens the door to Wayne looking out the front window, arms crossed.
“I know it’s stupid, but I’m giving Max a ride over to Benny’s. She has questions for Steve about her brother-”
“Step-brother.”
“Right. And she won’t take no for an answer. Figure it’s safer if I drive her, unless you wanna…”
Wayne shakes his head, looks between the two of them and says, “I’m stayin’ at my post.” He won’t leave Eleven, and he won’t put her in harms way. “I trust ya not to do anything too stupid, Ed. But try to make it quick.” Relaxing his shoulders, Wayne reaches out and pulls Eddie close, marks him with his scent.
“I will,” Eddie agrees, taking comfort in Wayne’s warm, spicy scent before stepping back and grabbing his keys. Max follows him back out the door, shooting Wayne a little salute in thanks as she does.
The drive through town is silent. Creepy. And when they get to Benny’s the lights are all off, Benny’s pickup nowhere to be found. “Shit,” Eddie breathes, having to force himself to calm down. Clearly, a lot has happened since he last saw Steve and Benny. They changed their plans for a reason, and the best reason Eddie can think of is Marsha Harrington. At least it isn’t much further to drive.
He’s proven right as he pulls into the driveway behind Benny’s truck. The Camaro must have been towed, but he’s pretty sure that’s Jonathan’s car next to the pickup.
Eddie kills the engine, looking thoroughly around the yard for any unexpected movement before he gets out of the van and motions for Max to follow. They don’t even make it up the walk before Benny opens the front door and barks, “What in the hell are you doing here now? Get inside!”
Max and Eddie follow the order, and Benny locks the door behind them, turning the deadbolt. Steve is waiting in the entryway in his pajamas, and as soon as he sees Eddie he closes the distance between them, stepping easily into his arms. “I missed you,” he whispers, quiet enough only Eddie can hear.
Eddie kisses his temple, whispers back, “Missed you, too.”
“Still waiting for an answer,” Benny says, eyes squarely on Eddie.
Max is the one to answer. “I made him bring me.”
“Oh, did you now?”
She nods, and gives a curt, “Yes,” only to turn her attention on Steve, getting up close and taking his much larger fingers in hers. “If Billy disappeared here, can you feel him? Like you felt Will?”
Benny blanches. “Steve, no. What if that thing can feel you when you take down your walls?”
But Steve simply shakes his head. “I checked when we got home. There was nothing. If Billy’s where Will is, he didn’t hang around here.”
#steddie#omegaverse#fanfiction#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#stranger things fic#mkultra benny#omega benny hammond#the plot is plotting
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Steve wins Eddie a goldfish at a carnival game, and Eddie immediately starts doing research to make sure it thrives.
Five years later the goldfish is still going strong, and Steve always says that Precious solidified his opinion that Eddie would be a great dad.
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nothing funnier to me than when AI does math wrong. like I get why it happens, it's a language model that's treating the numbers you feed it as words rather than integers and then giving you an answer based on how those words typically appear in a block of text instead of actually performing a calculation. but the one thing computers are genuinely incredible at. you fucked up a perfectly good calculator is what you did, look at it it's got hallucinations
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I think venus flytraps should be intelligent and ambulatory. I think they should get into the cupboards. I think they should purr when you pet them.
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We're the Munsons 2
Part 1
I didn't realize this movie was so beloved. White culture amirite? LOL Hope I can do it justice
Eddie returned to his building, thinking of which kids from the high school that he dealt to that he might be able to convince to go along with the sham family. When who should he see, but little orphan Annie. That is if Annie had ever joined the Jets.
"You wanna make some money, Red?"
"I'm not a druggie and I don't have a hole to fuck."
"Jeeeesus." Eddie wasn't one to clutch at pearls, but honestly the state of the youth today. "You just gotta play a part. And you won't have to shake up vending machines."
She rolled her eyes and huffed, but didn't walk off. She was intrigued. "How much?"
Eddie looked her up and down. Kids didn't run away without good reason. His heart went out to her. But he wasn't running a charity either.
"$1,000", he decided was fair. And judging by the way her eyes widened slightly and her scent even perked up a bit, Max found it pretty fair too.
“What’s the job?”
“I need a fake family for a little uhhh trip”, he said, keeping his voice low in case any of the other tenants happened by them in the lobby.
“...I want $8,000.”
“Khck!” Eddie choked on his own spit. There was no way in hell he was giving a kid that much. But he had to admire her tenacity to negotiate in the first place. “Twenty-five hundred.”
“$8,000.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “$5,000 take it or leave it. You’re not the only kid I know.”
Max pretended to consider it before holding her hand out to shake. “Deal.”
Eddie extended his own hand to shake hers and was taken by surprise when she squeezed his hand and yanked him in close to whisper menacingly.
“Don’t fuck me over on this.”
She walked off after that and Eddie wiped the shock off his face. She was probably about thirteen or fourteen, even though her roughness made her seem older. It was that hard edge that had Eddie feeling confident she’d keep cool under pressure. And there was definitely a part of him that thought it’d be nice to have another alpha on this trip.
He walked up to his apartment, cursing the broken elevator again. He stopped and leaned against his doorway, giving a moment to take stock of his scheme so far.
That was one spouse and one kid. Honestly the only thing that could make it even more believable was a literal baby. But he didn't know anyone irresponsible enough to lend him an infant.
"Oh hey", Dustin said as he came in from the stairwell. "So our super didn't tell me to fuck off, but it was pretty close." There was an open English to Russian dictionary in his hands.
Cherubic face? Check. And that was all Eddie needed.
"Hey, you busy this week?"
“Nope! It’s Spring Break and I’m totally free”, Dustin beamed.
“What would your mom say to going on a little trip with me?”, Eddie pointed to himself.
“A trip? Cool! Where are we going?”
“You know what I do for a living, right?”, Eddie asked just to make sure.
Dustin nodded. It wasn’t like Eddie kept it a secret. He just didn’t go around broadcasting it was all.
“Yeah well, I need to make a delivery of a significant size. The trip’s gonna take us down to Mexico. You think your mom will let you go?”
“Yeah! Definitely! When do we leave?”
The kid’s enthusiasm was expected. Eddie knew he didn’t have many friends and sort of looked up to him. He glanced at the door to the Henderson apartment. Dustin was honestly one of the better kept kids in this building. Getting his mother to agree to this might be a hill to climb. “Is your mom home? Maybe I could-”
“No! No, I’ll convince her. Just tell me when and where I needa be”, Dustin rushed to say.
“Alright, cool”, Eddie said, content to leave it at that.
He went into his own apartment. He had an omega spouse, an alpha daughter, and a beta son. It was all coming together. As he was getting ready for bed, he looked himself in the mirror. His hair definitely made him stand out but like hell was he cutting it for just one job, no matter how big. Besides, if things went sideways, he might need to drastically change his appearance anyway.
But he could do something about his clothes. Taking some of the advice he’d given Sprinkles, he went out the next day and went out to buy some new threads. On the day of his departure, he put on a Chicago Cubs t-shirt and blue jean shorts that weren’t ripped. He even bought a pair of loafers second hand.
Dustin was already at his door, backpack zipped and ready. He had a baseball cap and a smile that almost blinded him. He looked every bit the part of a kid excited for a family road trip.
“Didn’t know you were such a jock”, he teased.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s get your sister”, Eddie said moving past him.
“Sister?”
Eddie almost missed her when he got into the lobby. Her hair wasn’t hanging loose, nor was she bundled up in a hoodie. Instead she was wearing a striped t-shirt and her hair was up in a ponytail.
“Excuse me miss, I’m looking for a ruffian”, Eddie smirked.
She gave him the finger and they were off to the airport. Yuri was gracious enough to give Eddie an advance of a few thousand dollars to get the job done smoothly. He had knocked on Sprinkle’s door but didn’t receive an answer, so he’d just slid the ticket under his door the night before. He was an adult, he could get to the airport on his own.
It was the three of them in the security line when Dustin finally gathered the courage to speak up.
“So I guess we’re siblings, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Your name’s Max, right? I-I’ve seen you around.”
Yeah we live in the same building”, Max said, pointing out the obvious. “Why’s he here?”, she asked Eddie.
“Because he was raised with manners. Now keep up, we’ve got a schedule”, Eddie said, pushing them along. He was trying not to worry about the fact that his “wife” had yet to show and there was less than an hour before their flight left.
Once they got past security, he felt just a tad better about the whole thing but he wouldn’t be fully fine until this whole thing was said and done. So he was high stepping it to their gate.
“Ooh! Can we get Cinnabon?”, Dustin asked when they passed by it.
“Nope”, Eddie answered quickly.
“But I’m hungryyyy.”
“Can we get something from there at least?”, Max pointed to one of the other places that sold snacks.
“Airport food is fucking expensive. Hold out until we land.”
Eddie happened to hear someone gasp as they passed by and he reminded himself to keep his language PG. But neither Dustin nor Max were finished.
“Dude, I didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Neither did I”, Max added, stopping in her tracks and crossing her arms. “I’m out if you’re not gonna feed me.”
“Look, we’ll get food, just not from here. I promise I’ll get you a hot dog or something”, Eddie said. “Now can we make this flight please?”
“A hot dog?” Max was glaring at him now and her scent was starting to burn.
“I could literally eat five right now”, Dustin rubbed his stomach.
“Feeding you two isn’t honestly a huge priority for me right now”, Eddie said before lowering his voice when he saw the looks he was getting. “Just chill for now.”
Max’s face was slowly turning red as she entered a staring contest with Eddie and he was two seconds from really laying down the law when-
“Oh what beautiful children~”
“Wha?”
“Just lovely”, a woman, a beta by the scent of her said as she came up to Eddie. “I just think it’s so nice when an alpha cares so much for their pups.”
“Uhh y-yeah”, Eddie said. Who knew kids (even rotten ones) could be attract tail like this?
“It must be hard raising them on your own”, she said, getting even closer, almost leaning into Eddie’s space. “What happened to your mate?”
“My um, m-my uh mate? He…”
“There you are, gang!”
Eddie tore his eyes away and then they almost bulged out of his skull. He’d seen Sprinkles before and after work. And just a couple of times during when he was dealing. He’d seen plenty of skin on him. But he’d never seen him look this way. A soft powder blue polo and khaki capri pants. It should have looked ridiculous. And yet he couldn’t look away.
“Is that…?”, the woman asked, reminding Eddie she was there.
“My mate! Yep my mate, birther of my children, love of my life, the old ball and chain”, he said, putting an arm around his shoulders once he was close enough.
“That’s me! Thanks for keeping him warm for me.” Steve’s smile was gentle but there was something cutting in the way he was looking at the woman.
She left, looking almost defeated and Steve chuckled in that way when something wasn’t really funny. He kept smiling until they got to the gate.
“You know this isn’t gonna work if you’re cozying up to everyone who gives you the time of day”, he hissed. “And why are you being followed by kids?”
“They’re ours”, Eddie grinned.
“Please tell me you didn’t kidnap these poor kids”, Steve said.
“They’re a bit rough, sure. But I promise only one of them was picked up off the street.”
Steve could guess it was the one giving Eddie the finger right now. “And their names are?”
“Our children Dustin and uh…”
Steve watched Eddie snap his fingers, trying to remember the redhead’s name before she spoke up for herself.
“Max-”
“Max! Max, yeah. Named after my great grandfather Maximilien.”
Steve huffed and crossed his arms.
“Who am I named after?”, Dustin asked.
Eddie scratched his cheek. “Uhh, well I knew this stripper named Dusty Rose?”
“Jesus, you’re bad at this”, Steve sighed, bringing his forehead down to his palm.
“Oh like you’re gonna be mother of the year. Get real. We just gotta sell this long enough to fool border patrol.”
The peace was kept until they boarded the plane. While they were finding their seats, Dustin’s stomach growled.
“Can we at least get snacks when they start serving?”, he begged.
“I just told you how expensive the food here is”, Eddie said, lugging a bag into the overhead.
“You’re literally gonna starve us before we can get to Mexico”, Max frowned.
Steve began to frown too. “You didn’t feed them?”
“There wasn’t time”, Eddie sighed, exasperated.
Max crossed her arms. “Some father.”
“You know what? Family meeting, let’s go!” Eddie pushed them towards the back of the plane. The trip had only just barely begun and he was already at his wit’s end. “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not responsible for anyone here”, he pointed at the three of them. “This is just a job we need to do. You want food that’s marked up three hundred percent, use your own dough!”, he hissed.
“Hey!”, Steve hissed back. “Watch how you talk to them, they’re just kids.”
“I saw this one pull out a knife once”, he gestured to Max.
“That guy had it coming. Only idiots don’t carry something”, Max argued.
Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Are you carrying something right now? How? We went through a metal detector!”
“What do you have?”, Dustin asked, both intrigued and nervous.
“Play your cards right and you’ll never find out”, Max said, keeping her arms crossed.
“Kid if you get us kicked off the plane-”
“Oh now you wanna boss me around? But you can’t spare a single cent for a bag of chips?”
The argument between Eddie and Max began to escalate and Steve could smell their ire rising and it had people turning heads and a flight attendant was coming towards them now. Before Eddie really started raising his voice, Steve grabbed Dustin and Max’s hands and closed his eyes, putting out calming pheromones as he did.
“And Lord! Please bless us on our journey. Allow us safe passage for our lives our in your hands. Bless our family, bless the other passengers, and bless the pilots and airline staff. Amen.”
“Amen”, Dustin, Eddie, and Max said in unison, quickly getting with the program.
“Aww, bless yall’s hearts”, the flight attendant said. “I hate to interrupt but we’re about to prepare for liftoff.”
“We’ll find our seats right away”, Steve smiled. “Come on, kids~”
Eddie watched kind of mesmerized as Max and Dustin obeyed. The flight went fine after that. Eddie sat next to Dustin while Steve and Max were seated next to each other behind them. Eddie mostly occupied himself with his music but when he wasn’t listening to it, he could hear Steve making conversation with the flight attendants. He’d never heard him be so cordial before. He said as much when they landed and waited for their things at baggage claim.
“They got guys who are into Midwestern mom roleplay at that club?”, he asked.
Steve rolled his eyes. “I can play a lot of roles. This is gonna be a piece of cake.” He saw his bag and leaned over to grab it.
“You really think you’re hot stuff, don’t you?” Eddie frowned, pushing down the fact that he’s stared at Steve’s ass enough, he probably owed him money. He was doing it right now actually.And the smug look on his face right now as he rose back up proved it. “I know I’m hot stuff. You’re the one that’s gotta step up. Daddy.”
Part 3
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Chapter 8 is out now!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/60134716/chapters/153446053
Finally have a WIP that I am allowed to share this Wednesday! So here’s a peek at the next chapter of Gallows Tree!
Eddie can't help it, feet following after, not thinking anything beyond keeping close to his wife—to his beloved. Hopper allows it until they reach the top of the hill, and orders him back. "I promise to keep him safe, Eddie, but it's best you stay home for now."
"Wayne needs you," Steve adds.
"He needs you," Eddie returns, "But I shall do my best in your stead." He forces his feet to root to the ground and watches them continue down the path. Watches until they leave his sight. Watches longer, his foolish heart hoping Steve will reappear, that his wife will run back to him. But all he sees is a little blue robin returning to its nest.
Robin Buckley is clever.
She is Steve's best friend.
She also knew Chrissy and Fred well.
She will want to help.
He cannot go to her now. Not right this minute. There will be too many eyes on them, but tomorrow after he makes the deliveries…
And until then, he may as well wallow.
Eddie returns to the cottage and crumples to the floor. He weeps with his head in Wayne's lap, the old alpha weakly petting his hair. "The truth will out, Ed," Wayne murmurs, his own voice rough with emotion. "We'll have him home safe, and-"
"He shouldn't be gone in the first place!" Eddie growls, clinging tighter to Wayne's waist, his tears finally slowing. "I cannot bear to lose him," he adds in a whisper.
"You won't," Wayne insists. "We won't. I'm not losing either of you." His voice breaks, and Eddie knows he is thinking of that night. Of almost losing him forever.
Read the fic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60134716
https://archiveofourown.org/works/60134716
#stranger things#steddie omegaverse#foot of the gallows marriage fic#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson
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Steve has the worst case of wrong time/wrong place and keeps getting unknowingly filmed in public and posted online.
Sometimes he accidentally wanders into the background of someone’s shot. Sometimes someone tries to stop him to ask him questions for one of those street interviews. Sometimes someone is a creepy weirdo and just filming him without permission.
Steve’s notable and noticeable because he’s hot and kinda a weirdo. Robin is a number one Steve defender though so she’s always in the comments warding off creeps.
Her favorite example of this was when a girl posted a video complaining that people were so unfriendly nowadays. Her example is that she sees this guy at the park all the time and she always says hi to him, and he always ignores her.
She demonstrates this by flipping the camera around to Steve on his morning run. He goes past her, she says hi, and Steve doesn’t acknowledge her.
She complains that he’s not cute enough to be ignoring people trying to be nice.
Robin simply commented, ‘He’s deaf 🫶’
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As a former librarian I'm actually required to remind you that many libraries that subscribe to Libby are opted into a program that lets you subscribe and access magazines for free with no wait
And that this is actually a really fun, low cost way to not only access news and larger cultural magazines, but also to get free patterns for many different crafts that you can screenshot if need be and that lower the financial barriers to entry for trying new things
From my experience working in both academic and public libraries, many libraries are use it or lose it funding-- I have to say this because a lot of patrons feel guilty for how much they use the library and how often they're using it funny enough, but the worst thing you can do for libraries is not try out new features and not use what's already given to you as much as possible.
The numbers that come as a result of your patronage are how most libraries justify their continued existence in times of financial hardship, which sucks but, go check out some magazines on Libby!
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