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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 1 year

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Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

(can be read as a standalone)

STEVE LOOKS AT HIS BIG EMPTY HOUSE AND THINKS FUCK IT

(ft. a heartbreaking realization followed bi gay panic and way more Eddie than initially intended. Also: Steve becomes a dad)

cw: drinking, mention of drugs, mentions of homophobia, Steve going through it once again

cool and correct steve playlist

Bullshit.

Steve is good at being alone.

He is even better at pretending that he isn't lonely. That being lonely and being alone is the same thing. Because not being alone is easy. He can do something against that. Throw a party. Fill his house with people until he can barely take a step without stumbling into someone. Say stupid shit in class so that everyone has no choice but to be aware of him. Study with Nancy even if the material refuses to get into his head no matter how often he reads over it and he just feels so fucking stupid. Drive the kids around even if their screaming gives him a headache (his mother said that headaches have always been in the family anyways).

Your love is bullshit.

In fact, he got so good at this over the years, that he almost started to believe it himself.

And isn't it funny how, as soon as he can't run away from the truth anymore, cannot deny that he is so fucking lonely that it hurts and that he has never not been, that he tries again and again but it never works and the problem must be with him, right? Even Nancy has Jonathan, and all Steve has is bullshit - as soon as he admits to himself that he is fucking lonely, he wants to be alone.

It isn't fair, because parties were always his escape. Music that is loud enough to drown out his pathetic heartbeat, longing and screaming for another one with every pump. Enough alcohol for him to lose count of how many days, weeks, months it has been since he last saw his parents. Enough bodies rubbing against one another that it starts to get hard to tell where one ends and the next begins.

And it is in a party that Nancy Wheeler breaks his heart. She takes that pathetic trembling little thing, with so much to give but nowhere, no one to give it to. She takes this wretched beating monstrosity and smashes it in her fists. Digs her nails into it and squeezes until he can't breathe. Grabs each end and opens it, rips it apart until he can't hide or run away anymore.

The music is so loud he can pretend that he didn't understand her for a few seconds longer. She drinks enough for her eloquence to leave her, for her to see straight into the heart of the whole shit show and to summaries everything in the most concise and yet fitting way possible. The alcohol finally gives her the courage to say what has been coming for months. You are bullshit, she says. You are alone, he hears. And the bodies that have been his refuge for so many years turn into obstacles getting in the way of fresh air.

As if fresh air can magically turn him into a decent person. (into someone who deserves love)

And suddenly he realizes how futile that all was. How stupid he is. Inviting people he barely spoke three words to into his empty house. Screaming into the void in a crowd of people until he can't differentiate his voice from the others anymore. He invited everyone so they could admire this character he wore like an ill-fitting mask - and then what? Did he want to be applauded for it? Congratulations, you force yourself to be what everyone around you wants, and YOU'RE STILL FUCKING ALONE.

He finally manages to go outside and he doesn't know what the fuck he is supposed to do now. There are still people everywhere. The air is still heavy with weed and smoke and vomit. His head aches to the beat of the music, although it might also be because of the tears he is trying not to let fall.

So there he is. In a party full of people and yet alone in a way he has never allowed himself to be before.

He wants to leave, but the thought of being in that empty house just makes his anxiety grow. He wants to go back inside, but the thought of the whole school being witness to Steve "The King" Harrington's Fall from Grace part 2: electric Boogaloo makes his skin crawl. He needs to be gone. He can't be alone. He needs to think. He can't bear the thoughts tormenting him in his head.

He sees a relatively empty patch of grass and runs. The fence digs against his back but he can barely feel it. He has never been so fascinated by good old boring grass as he is now.

"Oh wow, someone kick your puppy or something? You look so pathetic, I might even give you a discount, your highne- fuck are you crying?!"

Steve looks up and can't hold in the sigh that escapes him (he pretends to himself that it doesn't sound as tremulous as it does, thinks he can allow himself this one concession in this already disastrous night).

"No", he lies.

Now it makes sense, why this patch is so empty. Nobody wants to be seen spending time with Eddie "The Freak" Munson. The only reason he is even here is the metal lunchbox he always carries around. Steve always had a sort of admiration for him - not that he could ever let anyone know that. Because Steve was - as Nancy so kindly put it - bullshit. He laughed as Tommy shoved kids against the lockers because that was what was expected of the popular jock. He threw parties because that was what teenagers are supposed to do when it is the weekend and your parents aren't home. Girls he didn't even know the name of asked him out and he accepted because he could feel the entire school staring at the back of his neck. And as soon as he stopped doing that - when Nancy finally gave him the courage to say no when he didn't want to - everyone left him. Including Nancy.

But Eddie? Eddie didn't care. Eddie didn't give a fuck that people called him a girl because of his long hair, he just let it grow and it looked fucking good. Eddie didn't give a fuck that Tommy called him a fairy because of his painted nails and jewelry, he just put up his middle finger, showing off the biggest fucking ring Steve has ever seen. Munson is unashamedly himself and every year a new group of freshmen nerds join his table of weirdos. They only leave when they graduate.

Now, with alcohol buzzing in his veins and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, he can admit that he is kind of...jealous. Munson is brave in a way Steve has never managed. He jumps on tables and screams about conformity or shit and he doesn't give a fuck. Hell, he brings his lunchbox full of drugs to school like it's the most normal thing in the world. (Sometimes he wonders whether some teachers know and that is the reason he can't get through his senior year.)

"Would be more convincing if you weren't currently sobbing, pretty boy." Eddie's arm is extended towards him, almost as if he is going to touch him. But when Steve looks up he quickly brings it back to his side.

He feels his cheeks heat up. "...pretty boy?"

He looks fascinated as Eddie takes a lock of his hair and twirls it around his finger. The ring finger in his left hand, to be more precise, ironically the only one not adorned with a ring. He vaguely wonders if that is intentional. Eddie's fingers are long and slim. Piano fingers, his father would say. Didn't he play in a band or something? He continues watching entranced as Eddie lifts his finger and starts chewing on his hair. His lips are chapped. Paired with his big brown doe eyes, the effect is weirdly.... adorable.

"-heart?". It is only when those ridiculously red chapped lips move that Steve realized that Eddie is talking to him. His gaze seems to betray his confusion because the older boy sighs and presumably repeats himself. "I asked, are you doing okay?! Jesus H. Christ I'd think I was dreaming except that you aren't on your knees"

Steve doesn't think he was supposed to hear this second part and he frankly does not have energy to unpack that, so he makes the executive decision to ignore it. He has also already failed in his quest to not cry, and the only person he wants to talk to is the current reason for his distress, so he thinks, fuck it. (It's not like Munson really counts as a person anyway, a voice whispers in his head, but he ignores it. He does not want to be that person anymore)

"I think my girlfriend just broke up with me"

"You think?!"

"I am pretty sure my girlfriend just broke up with me"

"What?!"

"I said-"

"No, I understand. I just find it hard to believe. A lowly peasant captures the heart of the king- nay, the emperor- nay, the god of this hellish kingdom we call Hawkins High. And she, without mercy or remorse-"

"Don't call me that." Eddie freezes, his hands still raised from wildly gesticulating before. Steve absentmindedly notes that his rings glimmer orange from the bonfire.

"Don't call me king or, or emperor or whatever-"

"God."

"whatever, because that's not me. I- I don't want to be that person anymore. I know I was an asshole and- and I want to do better. So...yeah."

"Stevie, Stevie, Stevie" He tries to ignore the goosebumps, tries not to stare too hard at the mouth lovingly forming this single word. When was the last time someone called him a nickname? Even Nancy just called him by his name. Maybe that was one of the signs he overlooked. Maybe- (stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stop thinking about it) (lonely lonely lonely lonely)

He looks back at Eddie and sees that he isn't looking at him anymore (big doe eyes just like hers) He follows the older boy's gaze hoping something will distract him from spiralling. He doesn't know why he feels disappointed when the goal turns out to be Billy Hargrove: cigarette in his cherry red lips, some girl he isn't even looking at under his arm, icy eyes so intense they seem otherworldly.

"Oh yeah, I forgot that you were dethroned. Really not your year, is it?"

And Steve isn't sure what it is. Maybe Nancy's words are only now really sinking in. The fact that now he has neither girlfriend nor friends. Maybe it is the shame of realizing that Eddie actually isn't a bad guy, that he used to make his life hell for no fucking reason. And maybe a petty part of him is angry at how easily Billy filled the whole he left, how years of friendship apparently mean nothing to Tommy and Carol. Maybe he hates himself for missing them sometimes, even though he knows that they aren't the kind of people he wants to associate himself with. Or maybe it's just fucking infuriating how fucking big and warm Eddie Munson's fucking eyes look in the orange light. All he knows is that one second he is talking to Eddie "The Freak" Munson with blood roaring in his ears and the next he is sitting in his car. He grips the steering wheel so tightly his fingers turn white. One blink and he is parking on his driveway, another and the door is slamming shut behind him. (Dad will be mad, the ten year old in him cries, but he tells him to shut up, too)

And here he is now, sitting on his ridiculous white leather sofa staring at his grey concrete walls. (alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone alone)

When his father is home, he almost exclusively spends time in his study. The one Steve isn't supposed to go into. And yet he is also the one who meticulously planned the living room. The whole house, really. He saw pictures in a business magazine and ordered someone beneath him to get it done. Everything is color coordinated: grey and white and the occasional pop of brown. It doesn't look like people are supposed to live in it. It is lifeless and clinical and Steve feels like an intruder in his own home. But he doesn't dare change anything. Once his mom tried to place a red vase with purple flowers on the coffee table. The fight ended with her sleeping in a hotel for a month.

Steve can handle sleeping in a hotel. It isn't like it would be all too different from his current situation. If he had to finance it on his own it would be a different story, but his parents would never allow him to sleep in the streets. He can already hear his mother's shrill voice "what would that look like, Stephen?!"

What Steve can not handle is being the only living being inside these trist walls.

(alone alone alone alone)

The thought is so overwhelming that he breaks into his father's liquor cabinet. When he finally falls asleep, bottle still in hand, he dreams of flowers and trees and waterfalls and life.

The next day he takes an aspirin against the pounding in his brain and drives to the hardware store. (He will probably be too scared to actually go through with it if he has the ability to think clearly). He parks his Beemer (please don't get dirty with soil please don't get dirty with soil shit maybe he should've brought plastic plane or something to cover the leather seats) and waves hello to the poor guy manning the register (he thinks he remembers him laughing around Billy yesterday night. He slams the door extra hard behind him and can't help the schadenfreude when he sees him flinch. It hurts like a bitch but it's completely worth it) and goes straight to the plant section.

For a moment he just stands there. It feels kind of insane. Here he is, standing in front of a shelf filled to the brim with living beings. Beings that need oxygen and sun and nutrients and water just like him. And he can just buy them for like five dollars. What the heck. (Is he just going to be trafficking a bunch of little guys into his house?!?! he feels a weird mix of fear and excitement when he realizes that he will actually have to take care of everyone he decides to take home with him. He will be needed.)

He sees a plant with leaves so large that it is almost pushing it's neighbours out of the shelf and into the deadly hard floor below. It kind of reminds him of Mike, the way that little asshole is always trying to get him to leave Na- to leave his sister alone. (Do not think of Nancy do not think of Nancy) (Bullshit bullshit bullshit bullshit) (alone alone alone alone)

The thought is so amusing he immediately adds the newly dubbed Mike Jr. into his cart. (For a moment he feels incredibly idiotic. What would the others think if they saw him?! Naming a plant he is only buying because he has no friends. But then he remembers that the entire reason for this little trip is that there isn't anyone to stop him, so he proudly glares at Mike Jr. in his cart like a disgruntled mother and continues on in his journey.) The next few minutes (hours? days? time is a social construct anyway) are spent trying to find the leafy reincarnation of the rest of the little party. Max gets a cactus with a beautiful pink flower blooming at the top. Dustin gets a succulent that falls on his foot like the fucking menace it is and is still somehow in one peace. Hard-headed just like it's namesake, Steve thinks and adds it to the cart. Picking the one hanging from the ceiling with the leaves majestically growing towards the ground because it reminds him of El's nosebleeds may be kind of morbid, but as long as Hopper never finds out it should be fine. Lucas gets the tall ones that almost look like a miniature palm tree. (He finds it kind of genius. Steve isn't sure what exactly it is about miniature trees that tickles his fancy, but Tall Lucas may be his favorite. Don't tell the others.) Human Lucas is the tallest of the bunch and is starting to show interest in basketball, which gets Steve weirdly emotional when he can't sleep at night. Will is the hardest. He is the quietest of the bunch and he doesn't drive him around as often as the others because his mother doesn't want to let him out of her sight. He settles for a bamboo in the end. It fascinates him to see it thriving even though it is so far away from home.

When he is preparing himself to leave, his eyes catch a bright yellow flower. (Rings glimmering in the orange light). He doesn't think too hard about it when Eddie Senior finds it's way into his cart.

On the way home he stops by the library. He doesn't think he has ever been here unless Nancy forced him. He's surprised at the amount of people that are actually here. He picks out as many books about botanics as he can take home at once (he may not be a fan of reading, but he will bear it for the sake of his new roommates). Back in the house he places all his kids on the coffee table (ha, suck it dad!), makes himself the biggest cup of coffee with a frankly concerning amount of espresso shots, and sleeps for the rest of the day.

When he wakes up the sun has already set. (nobody noticed he had been gone all day). He looks at the books, looks at the plants, and makes the executive decision not to go to school on Monday. Only to be able to take better care of his new charges, of course, no other reason. (He can already hear the whispers. "Oh how the mighty have fallen" "did you see that his girlfriend dumped him?" "look how pathetic, all alone" "dethroned")

He expects to need to force himself through each page. He expects to return the books without opening even half of them. He expects to just give up and abandon his babies in a park or something, it's not like they can be home when his father returns anyway.

What he does not expect is to be wakened out of his trance-like state by his own growling stomach. The first thing he is aware of is that the sun is already high up in the sky. The second is that he really really needs to pee. And eat. And drink. And find the exact right spot with the perfect amount of sunlight for each plant. And make a plan of when he has to water each one. And make sure that the vases are all big enough for the plants to properly thrive. And go buy the correct soil.

Maybe he would feel a bit bad if Nancy was still up his ass about school and attendance and punctuality and all this shit (don't think about her don't think about her don't think about her) but as things are he runs to the bathroom, whips up a quick Spaghetti al Sugo and runs back to the hardware store.

He tries to remember everything he learned. Apparently Will The Strong is actually a bamboo-type that is native to North America (the so-called arundinaria appalachiana) but that is fine, too. He should probably get bigger vases for all the plants now that he is thinking about it, even if they don't necessarily need it they deserve to have a bit more space. Would it be overkill to get a sun lamp?? Steve makes to horrifying realization that the store in Hawkins does not have Cactus or Succulent soil on sale (seriously, this is so ridiculous. How can you sell cacti with a straight face and not have any soil for it in the shop?!) He goes back to his car and goes to the next town over. (He goes a bit over the speed limit but nobody catches him so it is fine. The thought of leaving his beloved plants alone for too long make him feel kind of bad for some reason.)

It is there that the shopkeeper shows him the marvelous world of Bonsai. They are like Tall Lucas, but better. Because they are real trees, like the big ones, but in small. They can even grow real fruit. And the fruit keeps it's original size, even if the tree is tiny. Steve sees a mini apple tree and it is fucking love at first sight. He leaves the store with five new roommates (he has to find them a name on the drive home), more vases than he actually needs (they just looked so pretty, it would be cruel to make him choose), a watering can he doesn't actually need (he will have to look this object in the eyes every fucking day he deserves to actually choose it okay), more types of soil than he thought existed and two books about Bonsai.

(he finds it fascinating for some reason. Taking something as tall and strong and imposing as a tree and taking it into your home. Having something so fragile be dependent on your own two hands. Bonsais are not easy, the clerk had said. You need to be careful, gentle, loving. Cut their leaves every day. It shows when you don't take proper care of them, even if it is just a single day.)

He knows this is a fight he cannot win, but as soon as Hargrove dares to put his hands on Lucas any rational thought leaves him. The last thing he sees is a fist coming towards his face. The last thing he hears is a plate breaking somewhere above. Then everything is dark.

When he comes to he is in a car. He needs a second to recognize the car as his own. He needs another to realize that nobody else in the car should actually be driving. He wishes he didn't have that second realization, he has enough of a headache as it is. The only thing worse than finding out that a twelve year old is driving his beloved BMW is knowing where exactly she is driving them to.

When he sees the monster coming, he knows he can't let it get to the kids. He is the oldest. (He is alone). He will make sure that those fucking dipshits make it back home if it is the last thing he does.

When he knows that he is not going to make it out of this one alive, when he feels it in the depth of his bones that it is either him or the kids and truly, is that even choice to begin with?, he thinks of his plants. He feels bad for Rose Nylund and Dorothy Zbornak. His miniature trees were coming along so well....

Apparently it is not abnormal to lose ones brain-mouth filter for a bit when one has a concussion. Or ones ability to think clearly.

After everything is done for the second (and hopefully last) time. Hopper says they should have another Congratulations We Survived This Shit Again-dinner, and Joyce looks so devastated Steve doesn't have the heart to say no even though his head still isn't 100% back to normal (the doctors said that maybe it never will, but he tries not to think about that.)

This one is somehow worse than the first. The first thing Hopper does is loudly complain about the lack of Lasagna on the table. Steve sits as far away from Nancy as possible and tries not to look at her. (Tries not to look at her and Jonathan's intertwined hands). She tries to speak with him, but he somehow manages to avoid her. Hopper tries to force the Byers into conversation, but they just stare into their plates with a faraway look.

Unsurprisingly it is Mike who starts it, the little shit could never pass up the chance to make fun of him. He screams about how Steve kept talking about leaves and trees and plants and about watering "his kids", and Steve doesn't say anything because Mike's voice sounds so tiny and desperate in the silence and it hurts him in his very soul. Dustin adds that he sometimes spoke in another language, and he thinks the looks of horror on their faces are a bit exaggerated when he reveals that he is half-italian from his mother's side.

He ends up showing them his babies, and the kids somehow manage to weasel their names out of him. Max looks appropriately smug when she sees her badass cactus, and Dustin is insulted when he sees his Succulent. He does not look happier when Steve explains the origin story. (He changes the subject when Will quietly asks why the bright yellow flower is called Eddie)

He starts driving Max back home from school while Billy isn't allowed to drive. Nobody knows how the drugs got into his system. (He has his suspicions but sometimes it's just easier not to ask)

One day she enters the car with dirt underneath her nails and a bouquet of Petunia in her hands. "This is Non-Concussed Steve", she proclaims proudly. "It doesn't look like it, but it is actually very resilient". Just like you, she doesn't say, but he hears it anyway. He tries not to cry and fails spectacularly.

Unexpected talent #2: gardening

-> a comprehensive list of all of Steve's babies

#my aro ass actually googles if it is possible to have a crush while you are in love with another person #so i can safely tag this as #steddie #in case you were wondering why steve drank coffee to fall asleep #its because he has ADHD #tbh i think golden girls only came out after the season happens #but if the duffer brothers themselves don't care too much abt their own timeline i don't have to either #i want to do a post showcasing all of Steves plants later if i do it itll be in the reblogs #also some other things that are very important to me personally:#italian steve harrington #steve and max #are siblings<3 #steve harrington #steve stranger things #king steve secretely being jealous of freak eddie because he is just unashamedly himself #(he doesn't realize it is a crush yet)#nancy wheeler #nancy stranger things #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #max mayfield #max stranger things #steve x nancy #steve x eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #enjoy :)#stranger things season 2 #fuck it saga

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miraculousagentsofkrypton · 1 year

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Just a small frustrated stream of consciousness, don’t mind it’s rushed nature:

You know, there's a very specific kind of behavior and type of trauma response that people like in characters. Fandoms go out of their way to justify their lashing out, to make it cute. Many times, there are understandable reasons for how they turned out the way they did. To each their own, if someone wants to latch on to different characters, that's their prerogative and there is nothing wrong with that.

However, there are two aspects of the way some fans approach things that I am so frustrated by. I run into them time and time again. Obviously, part of it is just how it attacks my own favorite characters constantly, but it can also be a sign of unhealthy patterns in how people think about real people with trauma or in certain circumstances.

First part: Lack of recognition that there is more than one way that trauma presents itself. I find it is often the case that people give characters like Jinx, Catra, Lena Luthor, Adrien Agreste, Leo Fitz, and Steve Harrington a pass. And I get it, they are likable characters! They have complex reasons, and tragic pasts, and weren't ever actively trying to be bad people. Many of them are genuinely good people. Their mistakes are treated with compassion and understanding by their fandoms.

Their friends or significant-others’ traumas, however, are frequently not. Vi, Adora, Kara Danvers, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Daisy Johnson, and Nancy Wheeler are examples of group ones' counterparts. These are characters that respond to trauma in a different way from the first group. Theirs is less immediately obvious, as they don't lash out the same way.

They tend to repress and avoid. They react to hurt by trying to help. These are masks that many people overlook. The second group are the kind that like to take responsibility onto themselves unnecessarily. They all deal with survivors' guilt, or something of the sort. They are hard on themselves, rather than others. This does not mean that they are correct in that blame. They don't look as obviously in pain or in need of help, and so people take them at face value. This creates a different perspective when they do lash out, or when they do make mistakes. Suddenly, there isn't any of the compassionate understanding given to others. They should have been on top of things, should have understood what others were feeling, and how it hurt them. Because they had been shown to make an effort to understand before.

And THAT'S DUMB.

Believe me when I say that that is an extraordinarily harmful way to approach people like that! Just because they hold themselves up to an extremely high standard, doesn’t mean others should too! The second group needs just as much help as the first, and be given equal levels of leniency and compassion. Because of their outward appearances though, people don’t realize that. Fandom’s don’t find that as appealing, because they still take these characters at face value, even though they are shown more of what’s going on under the surface than anyone in the character’s world.

And that leads to the second point, that people like to shift blame and responsibility off of the first group and onto the second. People project onto characters, it’s just a part of fandom. What ends up happening though, is that creates a desire to remove the responsibility/blame from their chosen character, and place it onto someone else.

There’s a difference between understanding and feeling empathy for someone, and removing responsibility. Removing responsibility means the responsibility must be put on someone else, because it can’t be removed entirely from the equation. Someone needs to come down, to prop the first one up, in situations where character one either hurts the other, or shares the blame with them. Doing this does two things, which are harmful to both characters. It infantilizes character one, as suddenly they aren’t capable of truly making their own choices. Two, it warps the view of character two. It villianizes them for things outside of their control. It becomes more than just preferring one character over another. I don’t know how else to say it other than, That’s Bad.

It also ruins fandom content for people who like character two. They don’t have to be the center of everything, but no one likes reading a fic only to realize that character two is being treated with hate by the author.

It doesn’t have to be either or! People can have compassion and empathy for multiple characters in a conflict! Heck, there are plenty of examples where people on both sides are both right and wrong. I don’t know where I’m going with this, and I’m not hating on people who love those characters, but gosh darn it, is there anyone else who understands?? I am so sick and tired of having to avoid large swaths of fan content because they are so populated with dislike for the types of characters I relate to or love.

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jonathanbyersphd · 8 months

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Hi, Hello, this is your reminder that Nancy Wheeler spent the whole night trying to call Jonathan when she was awake all night watching over Max

#bc literally the next day she says she can't ask him bc he's blown up his house phone #TBH don't think about this too hard it's too sad #my poor girl was GOING THROUGH IT last season #stranger things #jancy #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers

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appsa · 10 months

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BTW its so crazy that jonathan byers didnt get implicated for barbara hollands murder in season 1...... he was literally the last person to see her + he was being shady as hell

#like... EYE get why he did that..... nancy grew up knowing him so maybe she might be forgiving (tho she def didnt need to be).......#but like. would the police extend that grace. i do not think so #rip its a plot device and an interesting character moment they didnt think too hard abt but like. hello guys. that looks so bad #ig it helps that the govt immediately covered up the disappearance but like #tbh actually nancy should have been much more suspicious of him at least #SORRY im still talking abt stranger things but i find it odd. strange even

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thelostsisters · 2 years

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max going to vecna’s house and demanding him to possess her when he was quite literally just chilling in his living room, and then trauma dumping to him in his attic before he even had a chance to fully hook himself up to his vines is actually too funny

#like he wasn’t even trying to kill her that night 💀 they probably could have waited for el to get back in town tbh #i mean he even told nancy to tell el about what he showed her so he was probably waiting for her to return anyway lmao #max im sorry baby but the hawkins group was way too overconfident going into that 💀#stranger things #stranger things 4 #max mayfield #st vecna #vecna stranger things #henry creel

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 1 year

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Musical Aesthetics: Nancy (Oliver!)

"Though it sometimes touches me... For the likes of such as me, mine's a fine, fine life!"

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scoops-aboy86 · 5 months

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Everyone in the Party makes a cameo in this one, because it's the holidays and over the holidays you spend time with the found family that you defeated an unspeakable evil with. ❤️

🔞 Seven Christmases pt. 6

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

The Byers-Hoppers (2569 words)

rated: T | cw: none | tags: chubby eddie, established relationship, weight gain, belly kink, stuffing, steve has a praise kink, fluff, they’re in love, robin/vickie, marijuana, chubby argyle, jargyle, argyle/jonathan/nancy, byler, button popping

When Eddie first came up with this Christmas plan, he’d thought it would feel good. All of his indulging ever since his near death and the recovery had suggested as much, and from the way Steve’s pupils had instantly blown wide at the initial suggestion… He’d been wrong, though.

It feels fantastic. He’s so full, so fucking big that he’s aching with it, a dull throb that’s forged a direct connection between his tight, heavy belly and his dick. It’s an orgasm denied to him all fucking day, edging himself every time another meal comes to a close and he still has space for more. It’s a harness cinched tight around his middle and all down his legs, restraints that are leaving marks to trace over later in awe. Waiting for just the right thread or button to strain just enough that it finally gives, and it will fall away to reveal him in all his hedonistic glory, the luxury of excess spilling off his frame in every direction and stretch marks that he chose painted over the scars he didn’t.

And he has to have more. He needs it. That’s his Christmas present to himself.

Jonathan and Argyle are already loitering out front in the driveway when Steve pulls up, and Eddie rolls his window down with a chuckle. “You two wouldn’t happen to be lying in wait for us, would you?”

“Of course, bro,” Argyle says at the same time Jonathan shakes his head. “You dudes have the munchies express, what’s Christmas without that?”

Eddie fakes a swoon. “A man after my own heart. Look out, Stevie, you might have some competition for my affections here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve throws the car in park and rests a hand on the keys in the ignition. “Roll up your window, snookums.”

Snookums, Eddie mouths exaggeratedly, but he fondly does as he’s told so Steve can cut the engine. When he opens his door, he doesn’t miss Jonathan’s glance and little nod at Steve—appreciation, or solidarity or whatever, as he stands in the driveway with an open bag of red and green tortilla chips angled Argyle’s way.

Not that the Californian has Eddie beat in any category besides hair length, but he too has gotten heftier since settling in Hawkins. Which is nice, because… Eddie had, maybe, for about five seconds, gotten a little worried when he first heard through the Party grapevine that Jonathan came out as bi. It was one more thing the elder Byers boy and Steve had in common, and what if they bonded too much over that? But then Eddie met Argyle, clocked the way Jonathan always seemed to hover in his orbit, and just as quickly relaxed. He doesn’t pretend to understand whatever arrangement that still keeps Nancy in the equation too, but Jonathan and Steve really do have a lot in common.

They smoke up quickly before heading inside, Eddie already munching on a handful of chips that Argyle graciously shared in return for the complimentary weed. He can feel Steve watching him—feels the way he crowds against him too on their way inside the house.

It’s a good thing they’re at the back of the slight bottleneck at the front door, because Steve is practically grinding against his ass. God, if there’s one thing he never gets tired of in this life it’ll be the way he can drive his man wild just by following the whims of his appetite, indulging in the impulse for more. He’s not even hungry again yet, but the crunch is nice as he settles into his high.

Because the turkey is still in the oven after a late start defrosting and the kids are practically vibrating, Eddie is able to relax into some light snacking while they do presents. The bowl of white chocolate-covered chex mix and M&Ms only needs to be refilled twice, and Steve sits close enough with an arm around him that he can provide some amount of subtle belly rubs, low at the curve of it where his hand is hidden from view by the arm of the couch. There’s a seemingly unending supply of hot apple cider that keeps turning up in his cup, refilled seemingly whenever he isn’t paying attention, which is amazing, but—

Eddie turns his head to rest his chin on Steve’s shoulder and murmurs “I gotta move” in Steve’s ear.

Steve glances at him. “Yeah?”

He nods and then gives a little pout. “Yeah. Bathroom… for real, this time. Just need a little help getting up.”

The molten flash in Steven’s hazel eyes and the answering grope at his side is compensation enough for the fact that getting up is the only help Eddie is going to get. He ends up on his feet after a few rocks back and forth and Steve helping support his weight for a second, and then he’s wading through the ocean of torn wrapping paper and discarded bows.

Aside from Steve (whose heavy gaze seems to follow him out of the room), no one pays him much attention. The younger boys are crowded around the new d&d books they’ve received, deeply intent on devouring every scrap of information contained in the pages as soon as possible. El sits with a smiling Hopper in the center of a slowly rotating hurricane of colorful cardboard shapes, holding one as they both scan intently over the fitted-together edge pieces of a massive jigsaw puzzle. Max in her wheelchair is holding Erica’s new skateboard and giving rapidfire tips, tilting and twisting the board in demonstration while the younger Sinclair listens with complete and utter focus. Joyce, Murray, and Argyle are in the kitchen, Nancy curled up against Jonathan on the loveseat while she chats avidly with Robin and Vickie about college life. The entire scene is cozy and domestic… and Eddie has never had a big family, but that’s what it feels like.

Maybe it’s the weed, but his Christmas spirit and goodwill towards his fellow humans is at an all-time high right now.

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind him, he runs both hands experimentally down his front to feel the full extent of how swollen he currently is—very, and then some. His sweater is stretched as tight as it will go without pulling up. His fingers circle the dip of his belly button and slide lower, until they encounter a sliver of bare skin where his undershirt finally started coming untucked while he was struggling on from the couch. And his pants… Eddie bites his lip as he feels how the button is straining to hold on, gasps softly as he realizes that the zipper has already undone itself at some point when he wasn’t paying attention. His stomach sits heavy in his hands wherever he touches, not so much as a jiggle while it’s still so tightly constrained.

For a moment, he lets himself fantasize about popping that button at the dinner table midway through his sixth meal of the day.

Not gonna happen though, not after all the cider here and the nog at the Buckleys. He’s willing to risk ripping his pants with an audience, but he draws the line at wetting them in a room full of people. So, with a sigh of dreams deferred, he paws his waistband to pull it down over the swell of his underbelly and love handles, because the button is pulled way too tight too—

Ping!

“Oh god,” he moans under his breath, unprepared for the sudden release of his gut from its prison. His belly surges out, practically bouncing, the tender underside still caught in the V of the stretched out fly, air cool on the now exposed, reddened skin… Oh, Steve will be so sad he missed this. Eddie leans back against the bathroom door and loses himself in exploring for a moment, grabbing, jiggling, pressing his fingers in as deep as he can even with how stuffed he is, until his bladder reminds him why he’s here.

When he’s finished relieving himself, it’s a whole new ordeal to get the pants back on over his well-padded ass. Even then, he realizes with rapidly reddening cheeks, he’s exposed. His belly drops over the front of the pants, disguising the fact that they’re hopelessly open, unable to contain the sheer size that he’s glutted himself to—an observation that makes him rub his thick thighs together where he’s taking a breather on the closed toilet seat, hands smoothing over his belly again, back arching slightly to give the illusion of more that he still wants, a desire he’s more unsure by the day if he’ll ever see the end of. Fuck, maybe he could get off like this and no one would ever know, his own body would cover up the evidence even standing, and without the added constriction he can eat so much more—

A knock on the door shakes him out of those vivid thoughts, though he’s still hopelessly turned on and unlikely to cool off any time soon without either getting off or being full enough to pop actual stitches. Both preferred, of course.

“Hey, dude?” Argyle says through the door. “Dinner’s on, and Steve said you were in here so I brought you something that just might come in handy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie replies, and knows that he wasn’t quite successful in keeping the breathy strain out of his voice. It gets him a knowing chuckle through the door.

“Yeah, it’s an apron, my dude. Don’t want to waste any tasty food dropping it on that nice sweater, right?”

Eddie’s head drops back in amazed relief. “Argyle, have I told you lately that you’re a literal angel?”

“Never a bad thing to say it again. I’ll hang it on the door handle out here, ‘kay? For when you’re ready.”

Steve had some idea of what he was in for. How could he not, at the end of a day like this? But it’s a damn good thing he’s already seated at the table by the time Eddie returns from the bathroom, because just the sight of him is enough to send all the blood in his body straight to his dick.

For starters, Eddie is wearing an apron. A green one, decorated with slices of cake and pie and festive candies, all examples of things already eaten and being digested and slowly turning into more fat beneath it. It’s not even tied—maybe because the ties couldn’t reach far enough, Steve’s horny brain supplies as he blinks dazedly at the sight, mouth dropped open—and sways a little with every heavy step the man takes. It’s not in-your-face obvious that it’s to hide his bare belly where the sweater has crept up and the undershirt has completely given up the ghost, but Steve can tell that’s the case.

Robin, seated on his left, takes one look at Eddie and one look at Steve’s face, and snorts. “Cool it, loverboy,” she mutters out of one side of her mouth, which at least gets Steve’s to snap shut.

The chair to his right creaks as Eddie settles into it, huffing as he makes a vague effort to scoot it closer to the table. Which Steve leaps up to help with, of course, boner or not, because he is a good boyfriend and because the sight of Eddie’s stomach all bloated and spreading out as seen from above is a fucking sight to behold.

“Thanks sweetheart,” Eddie says with a wink as Steve sits shakily back down, and he makes a subtle show of readjusting his belly in his lap. With all the activity, Steve can tell from the side, the hem of his sweater has ridden up almost to his belly button.

“H-hi,” Steve replies dumbly, unable to stop staring. He distantly hears Robin snort at him again, but he’ll save his scathing comeback for the next time he catches her and Vickie making out in his and Eddie’s place during a movie night.

Eddie leans a little closer, the chair giving another creak of protest as he shifts. He holds out a hand, gesturing for Steve to do the same, and then presses a circle of warm metal into his palm. At first Steve thinks it’s one of his rings, passing it off for safekeeping until it can be resized again, but when he checks surreptitiously under the table his breath catches in his throat.

It’s the button from Eddie’s pants.

His brain flatlines for a moment while the last of the food is brought in—a big enough spread for two Christmas dinners, almost.

“I don’t know how this happens every time,” Joyce is saying as she sets the serving dish of mashed potatoes on the table with a sigh. “Every time! No matter what I do, they always end up runny somehow…”

“Mom, it’s fine,” Will insists. He sets a bowl of… something down next to it.

Eddie leans forward curiously, trying to decipher the hot pocket-sized things that look like they’re wrapped in some sort of paper. “What’s that, burritos or something?”

“Tamales, my dude. Shredded chicken wrapped in cornmeal dough, wrapped in corn husks, and steamed to perfection,” Argyle explains from behind Will. “Beep beep little Byers, enchilada comin’ in hot!” He’s carrying a large flat dish with oven mitts. It’s probably a miracle that he doesn’t get his hair in it (or anything else) while setting it down. “Both made by yours truly, just like my abuela taught me.”

“Except it’s a casserole,” Jonathan says with a chuckle, setting bowls of green beans and guacamole on the table.

“Nooo man, I had a brainwave while I was in the kitchen earlier today! It’s all the same flavors and cheesiness, but half the work… because instead of individually rolled tortillas, it’s flat.”

“Yeah… like a casserole.”

“Whatever you call it,” Eddie interrupts with a grin, “it smells great. Grandma food is always the best.”

Steve’s brain clicks back on enough to offer a fond wave of appreciation for the little wooden box in his kitchen that’s crammed full of his nonna’s recipes, painstakingly translated from the original Italian with Robin’s help. Some of the early translations had produced truly inedible results, but the finished versions had made substantial contributions to Eddie’s waistline.

There’s a beat of quiet while everyone else finishes settling into their seats and Steve soaks in the wonder of being surrounded by the smells of good food and people who care, and then—

“Mike,” Will says, making direct eye contact with his mom’s runny mashed potatoes, “I think we should worry for our future kids.”

The delivery is so deadpan, so perfectly timed, and so unexpected that the entire patchwork family gathered at the table cracks up, even Joyce. Just full on, tears-in-their-eyes, can’t-believe-we’re-all-still-alive-and-now-this laughter at something that shouldn’t be funny, yet somehow is. Eddie clutches at a stitch in his side and he can barely get a breath in from shaking so hard (Steve couldn’t look away from him if he tried, god he loves him so much), but it’s worth it because against all the odds little Will Byers is sixteen now and he just gave up on defending his mom’s questionable cooking abilities in the most ridiculous way possible. It’s another two minutes before anyone even realizes that’s how Will and Mike are coming out as together, and the cacophony only intensifies from there.

Part 7, part 8

#wg steddie #christmas steddie #chubby eddie munson #chaser steve harrington #chubby argyle stranger things #chaser jonathan byers #eddie is too gay to get how argyle/jon/nancy works but he respects it #(tbh i haven't thought about it much but jon probably enjoys the contrast of being in the middle)#(and argyle and nancy are just really comfortable as friends who share a bf)#(anyway that's not the point)#... the point is what eddie does with his pants button #scoops words #scoops - do not unwrap fic

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