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withacapitalp · 8 months

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Reasons

I wrote this for the STWG daily prompt today which was "Joyce" and uhhhhh I'm sorry haha thank you for @stevethehairington and @hairstevington for beta and encouragement and generally being the best of the best!

Read it on ao3 here

The thing Steve had always loved most about the Byers home was the clutter.

There wasn’t a single surface that was bare. The tv stand was filled to the bursting with scratched up VHS tapes, the bookshelves crammed with dimestore paperbacks. There were always dishes on the kitchen table, magnets holding up dozens of drawings on the fridge, even the hallway was littered with picture frames. It was a complete contrast to the house he had grown up in, with bare cream colored walls and perfectly immaculate rooms.

It was a mess, and none of the things in the Byers home were worth much, but every item in the home was treasured, important, valued. Everything in their home mattered.

Now there was nothing left in the house. Nothing but boxes and empty air.

Boxes.

And Steve.

And Joyce.

“Where’d Jonathan and the kids go?” Steve asked when the silence had finally grown to be too much, looking around the barren space that used to be the living room.

Joyce had always apologized for how uncomfortable the couch was. Every single time he had ended up on her doorstep late at night, after every midnight mug of hot cocoa, every midnight conversation where Steve finally finally let some of his anxieties slip out, she had led him over to that couch and wrapped him in a hand me down quilt that smelled old and worn and loved and apologized to him about how lumpy the couch was.

Steve had never known what she was talking about. He had never slept anywhere that felt more comfortable.

But the couch was gone now. Probably tucked away in the big box truck outside, or sold at the garage sale they had held last week. Or maybe Joyce had just thrown away like the trash it had always been, finally getting rid of the dead weight of a couch she didn’t really like all that much.

She probably wanted a new couch for their new house. Something better.

“They’re all at the Wheelers. Jonathan snuck out around three in the morning to go stay with Nancy tonight, and all of the kids slept over in the basement,” Joyce explained, a wry little smile falling on her lips as she fondly rolled her eyes at her children’s antics, “One last campaign before we hit the road.”

Steve hummed, acting like this was fresh news to him when he already knew. He was the one that had driven Dustin, Lucas, and Max there. Hell, he had stayed to watch part of the campaign, and to give El and Will one last hug when it was just him and them.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he was playing along, why he was continuing to pretend, but it was easier than just staring at the place where the couch used to live in complete silence. Better than Joyce knowing exactly how little she knew about Steve’s life these days.

“I’ve missed seeing you around,” She tried, creeping just a little bit closer to where he was standing, “We haven’t really talked much since…”

Joyce trailed off but they both knew what she was talking about.

Since the realtor's sign had appeared at the end of the Byers driveway.

Since Joyce had finally had to admit that she was taking Jonathan, Will, and El away.

Since their big fight.

“I’ve been busy,” Steve said shortly, turning away from the living room and towards the kitchen, hoping that would take the spike out of his heart.

No, now the pain was worse, because the kitchen table was gone too, whisked away like it had never existed in the first place. Like Joyce had never sat him down there and patched him up after Billy’s fight, both of their eyes drooping with exhaustion but her fingers still sure and steady. Like Steve had never leaned against it, trying to understand his homework while Joyce did her best to explain why the color of curtains in a story mattered. Like there had never been breakfasts, or dinners, or midnight cups of hot chocolate that were only ever for the two of them.

Like Steve had never had a place here at all.

“What do you need from me? You said you needed something,” Steve asked in a rush, turning away from the kitchen as nausea began to bubble over in his stomach. He wanted to run, to break free, to escape Joyce and the house and all of the feelings that came along with it. He just wanted to give her whatever last thing she wanted to take and get away before too much of him broke.

“I did. I mean is there something else you’re doing today?” Joyce asked, startled by Steve’s sudden shift, “I thought you might want to be here when-”

“Robin and I are going to an interview,” Steve said, interrupting her in a flash. He definitely did not want to be here when they left, and he did not want to be here to say goodbye. He had already done that. He had already said his piece to Jonathan and Will and El.

Steve had nothing left to give to Joyce.

So why was he here? What could she want from him?

“It’s a big interview for a job for both of us.” He continued, laying it on thick when they both knew how thin the excuse really was. He and Robin could have done this any day, at any time. Now that the mall was gone, they had their pick of the litter for shitty jobs in town.

But Steve had purposefully asked Robin to plan the interview for today. He had done it the second Jonathan had told him their moving date. And Robin, saint that she was, had done it without asking why.

He made his bed, just like Joyce had made hers, and now they both had to lie in it.

“That’s…that’s great,” Joyce said, crossing her arms over her chest, her fingers twitching like she wanted to go for a cigarette.

“Besides it doesn’t look like you need me,” Steve said, unable to help himself. He looked around, a bitter smile on his lips, “You’ve got it pretty well handled.”

“Steve, honey…”

“Don’t,” He said immediately, stepping back when she tried to come forward to console him. That wasn’t her job anymore, it had never been her job in the first place, and Steve wasn’t going to fall for it again.

He was stupid, but he learned. Eventually, he learned.

“You already know what I think, and I don’t want to argue.” He said woodenly, the words coming out short and full of static.

He didn’t want to argue again. Not like last time.

Steve and Joyce had at least waited until Jonathan and Nancy had ushered all of the kids out of the house before exploding, but once it was just the two of them, it had been a supernova. Steve could barely remember what they had said, but he knew it was bad. That he had claimed she never cared about him at all, and she had told him that he wasn’t her responsibility.

Steve knew she had called him an entitled brat at some point.

Steve knew that he had called her a selfish bitch too.

And he had no way of knowing if Joyce actually thought he was an entitled brat, but he didn’t want to hear it. Not again. It had been hard enough to forget the way it made him feel the first time.

“It’s not an argument.” Joyce said softly, her voice as fragile as glass as she slowly lowered her hand down from where it had been reaching out to bring him into a familiar, warm, hug, “I just need you to know that it’s over now. I don’t want you looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life, trying to find monsters that aren’t there.”

“Do you really believe that?” Steve asked, finally looking Joyce in the eye, “Really?”

“Yes,” She said immediately. Steve could see it in her eyes, in her voice, in the way she held herself.

She did believe it. Joyce really thought it was over. Or, at the very least, she had made herself believe that she believed it.

“Then stay,” Steve whispered, loathing himself for saying it. He had promised himself he would never again beg for someone not to leave, but now he had done it twice in just a month. Twice. Because the first time apparently hadn’t been humiliating enough.

But Steve’s hope had always been more powerful than his shame, and he couldn’t help but pray that she would listen this time. Joyce would see what leaving was doing to all of them and change her mind. It didn’t matter that the house had already been sold and the truck was already stuffed to the bursting with their belongings, it could all be undone.

Steve would carry it all back in himself, even. The couch, the kitchen table, the hand me down quilt, everything that had made this house the first place he had actually felt at home.

She could undo it all. She could put their lives back together, back to the way they had been before, and Steve wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. He wouldn’t have to agonize over how Will and El would adjust to high school without the rest of their friends, or worry about Jonathan being alone in his senior year. He wouldn’t have to think about his own empty house and the bare cream walls that hated him just for existing.

He wouldn’t have to wonder why he wasn’t enough to care about. Why everyone eventually always left him.

“If it’s gone, then there’s no reason to leave,” Steve muttered, his eyes burning as he turned them downward to the floor between them, feeling like he was eight instead of eighteen. A child instead of the adult they both knew him to be.

An adult. Soon to be the last adult left in Hawkins that knew about the Upside Down. The last adult the rest of them had to rely on.

“There’s a thousand reasons,” Joyce sighed, pulling out her most beloved weapon, “And I have to protect my kids,”

Her kids. Her kids. Not her boys anymore, now her kids, because of El.

But what about Steve’s kids? What about Max and Dustin and Lucas and Mike and Erica? How was he alone supposed to protect them when the monsters came?

What about Nancy? What about Robin? They were older, but they were still kids, weren’t they? They still needed someone to be the adult.

And a quiet, almost silent part of him, couldn’t help asking

What about me?

“From what? If it’s really over, then what are you protecting them from?” Steve asked, a question he had already pressed her to answer in their last argument.

Joyce didn’t have an answer, because they both knew the truth. This wasn’t about the kids. Not Jonathan. Not Will. Not El.

It was about Joyce. What she wanted, what she felt like she had to protect herself from.

And the worst part was Steve understood. He got why she had to leave, why she couldn’t bear to stay here any longer than she had to, but what he couldn’t understand, what he would never understand, was the need to hide behind a shadow.

“You don’t have to say the truth, but, please, don’t tell me a lie,” Steve said quietly, Joyce sucking in a sharp breath as he carefully threw her own words back in her face.

She had said it to him dozens of times over the last year, and dozens of times he had caved and told her the truth.

But Joyce was not Steve.

“Steve, it's too late to go back on this.” Joyce said firmly, as if her tone would be enough to spontaneously change Steve’s mind. He scoffed, shaking his head and turning away from her to stare out the front window. He welded his lips together, planning to keep his mouth shut and ice her out until Joyce finally got annoyed enough to cut him loose.

It wouldn’t take long.

It had only taken her six weeks to pack up their whole lives and completely tear apart Steve’s.

“I want you to come with us.”

“What?” Steve said, the shock of Joyce’s words enough to make him speak without meaning to.

“That’s why I wanted you to come here before everyone else,” Joyce said, trying to walk towards Steve again. This time he was too startled to stop her and she entered into his space, a soft smile on her face. The same smile she used to give him when she would push his hair away from his face at night, and tell him that he didn’t need to stay awake.

That she would be there, and nothing was going to get between her and her boys.

She had always said it, and they had always both known that she meant more than just Jonathan and Will.

“I wanted to ask you to come with us,” Joyce repeated, laying a soft hand on his arm.

“I don’t understand,” Steve said helplessly, his heart starting to race, the bare walls beginning to close in.

“The house we bought has a little condo next to it that’s free, and I’m sure that Doctor Owens would be able to get it put in your name the way he got mine,” Joyce explained, a plan laid out neatly, too neatly, “There’s lots of jobs out in Lenora, or you could even go to the community college there. Take some classes while you figure out what you want to do?”

This was not a spur of the moment offer. Joyce had to have thought about it before this morning. More than once.

“You want me to move to Lenora with you guys?” Steve heard himself ask, a spring blossom blooming in his chest without his permission. A little seed of hope that had no reason to exist at all.

Joyce nodded, her smile growing, and for a second Steve let himself think about it. Truly and honestly think about it.

He let himself imagine a world where he didn’t go to his interview with Robin this afternoon, and instead stayed here. Packed up the rest of the boxes, hopped in the van with Joyce, and went out to California. Where there was never any snow to shovel, no Mother and Father to disappoint, no dead end job to hate.

No monsters waiting to jump out of the shadows.

A life that was only about what he wanted, what Steve thought would be best for him. A life that came with a family that wanted him.

“It’s over and done and nothing is holding you here anymore,” Joyce pressed, looking around the empty house, “There’s no reason for you to stay.”

And the dream was gone.

Crushed into bits, shattered like a plate against a skull.

Steve had reasons, seven of them. Seven people. Seven people who had gone through hell three times for a town that didn’t care and didn’t notice. Seven people who

Seven people who deserved someone to protect them. Someone who would put them first.

Steve had never been enough of a reason for anyone to stay, never been enough to put first. Not enough for his parents, not enough for Nancy, and now not enough for Joyce.

But he would never let his kids think the same about themselves.

“No, there’s no reason for you to stay,” Steve spat out, hating how bitter he sounded, but hating even more that he had let himself fall for the same trap again. Somewhere along the way he had let those walls down, let another person in, and let her put herself where she didn’t belong.

That was the truth wasn’t it? They both knew Joyce didn’t fit where they had put her. She was never going to be his mother, and Steve had never fit into her life, but he had played pretend anyway. Ignored all the signs, ignored all the little whispers in his head that told him he was getting too close, trusting too much. He had let her brush his hair, and help him with his homework, and say the words her boys like she meant to include him.

And now Joyce was just reminding him exactly how much he meant in the grand scheme of things.

And, really, Steve only had himself to blame for the way his heart was starting to break into tiny impossible to put back together pieces. His mistake. His stupidity.

He just never fucking learned.

“At least there no reason to stay that actually ever mattered to you,” He added with a laugh that did not sound at all funny, walking out the door before he could hear another one of her lies.

#Joyce byers #Steve harrington #hurt no comfort #stranger things #st #st drabble #st3 #post s 3 #yeah this one hurts #Steve has so many issues #stwgdailyprompt

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the-ninja-legacy-whip · 4 months

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What are some core childhood memories of the cast? Good or bad? Maybe some with Kai and Nya, something about they're childhood?

Kai's most pleasant memories of his youth are all almost entirely related to Nya's accomplishments, and how proud he is of her firsts and her general progress. ...Meanwhile, some of his lesser moments are when he grows too frustrated to keep running the Four Weapon shops and almost walks off (but he PERSISTED)

Nya's childhood is almost a complete blank, save for a few key sibling moments between her and Kai (such as figuring out creative solution to their problems, huddling for warmth on particular cold nights, the day Kai revealed he made twin metal fans for her to match his katanas—). Doesn't even "remember" that she used talk to fish as a kid—Kai's the one that brings up that she, once insisted she could (and she CAN)

Jay probably has the most easily recallable memories (if that makes sense?) as he spent a lot of time with his parents, working on inventions, building things, visiting garage sales, racing in the desert, "treasure hunting" through their junk heaps...Jay could hardly sit still as a kid, yet could be kept busy for hours when distracted by a big project. Can't ever really recall a "bad" time, except whenever he'd been bullied.

Cole's core childhood memories were all played on a movie screen in his father's theater, what do you mean—Just kidding he's also got some ones of tending to the estate's back garden with his mom and that's why he's so easily endeared with flowers (which I totally didn't absorb into the Royal!Legacy AU—)

Zane: *speedruns B2Ch30 all over again* :')

Lloyd: Living my core childhood experience rn and gotta say, I'm not impressed

#ninjago #ninjago headcanons #legacyverse #info tag #kai smith #nya smith #jay walker #cole brookstone #zane julien #lloyd garmadon

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bookished · 3 months

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( a collection of starters. adjust phrasing as necessary.) feel free to make edits to better suit your muse, but please don’t edit or add on to the original post 💛 if you like, please consider supporting me through tips

The old, leather-bound journal was found hidden under the floorboards of the abandoned mansion. Its pages contained cryptic messages and a map that seemed to lead to something of great value—or danger.

In a world where the stars can be plucked from the sky and turned into powerful talismans, a young orphan discovers a constellation that has never been seen before. It points to a destiny that could change the fate of the entire realm.

During the height of the Renaissance, a young artist discovers a hidden chamber in the heart of Florence. Inside, she finds sketches of inventions far beyond her time and a letter addressed to her, written centuries ago.

Two strangers meet on a delayed train during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. As they share stories to pass the time, they realize they have more in common than they ever imagined—and that fate might have brought them together for a reason.

In a small, isolated village, people start to vanish without a trace. The only clue left behind is a symbol carved into the doors of their homes, a mark that matches ancient legends of a vengeful spirit.

In a future where emotions are controlled by the government, a young woman discovers an underground movement that aims to restore true feelings to humanity. She must decide whether to join them or stay in the safety of her regulated life.

Every night, a small café in the city transforms into a magical place where time stands still and dreams come to life. Only a select few know about its existence, and one day, an ordinary person stumbles upon it by accident.

A high school student finds an old camera at a garage sale. When they develop the photos, they see glimpses of the future. Now, they must navigate high school life while trying to change events they know are coming.

"I don't believe in coincidences, especially not ones involving missing people."

"You mean to tell me you've never seen a dragon before? Where have you been living, under a rock?"

"The prophecy spoke of a hero, but I never imagined it would be someone like you."

"This isn't just a piece of space debris; it's a message."

"Our planet was destroyed. We're the last survivors, and we need your help."

"Do you really believe the king will pardon us if we find the lost treasure?"

"She's a woman in a man's world, but she'll change history, mark my words."

"I didn't come here to fall in love; I came to find myself."

"Every letter I wrote to you, I wrote with my heart in my hand."

"That house has been abandoned for years. Why would anyone go inside willingly?"

"The shadows in this place…they move when you're not looking."

"There's a map, but it's missing the most crucial part—the key to decoding it."

"I've been to the highest mountain and the deepest sea, but I've never seen anything like this."

"Freedom is an illusion they sold us to keep us compliant."

"We've been living in a lie. It's time we uncover the truth."

"Every night at midnight, the old clock shop comes alive. Haven't you ever noticed?"

"They say the forest spirits grant wishes, but only to those who ask with pure intentions."

"I found this old diary in the attic, and it’s like it’s talking directly to me."

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laf-outloud · 3 months

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filmatx

Everything must go ‼️‼️

WALKER GARAGE SALE!

@thecwwalker is having a garage sale this weekend and you can come browse the shows past 4 seasons in person. Come find some treasure! Many new and unused items.

Tips: Bring your own truck! No fitting room available.

If anyone is in the Austin area and wants a piece of Walker, get it now! (And please, share your purchases because I'm so jealous!!!)

#walker #walker family #walker bts #walker props #walker set

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archaic-stranger · 1 year

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the gemology students

using your expertise to sort glass imitations from the real thing

rich colors that captivate the eye

picking up pretty rocks wherever you go

looking for vintage jewelry at thrift stores and garage sales

reading legends of cursed jewels and ancient treasure hoards

memorizing the optical properties of different gems

the feel of polished stones against your fingertips, cool and smooth

seeking out the microscopic imperfections and inclusions that signal authenticity

refusing to support the harmful practices of the mining industry

analyzing the cultural forces that assign value to crystals and minerals

a comfort with your tools, handling your spectroscope and refractometer as if it were second nature

a deep appreciation of light and color

researching techniques for synthesizing gems in a lab

cut stones glittering in the sun, light bouncing off each of their innumerable facets

studying crystal structure, how atoms combine to create different minerals

learning the geological conditions that create our most prized gemstones

#dark academia #dark academia aesthetic #academia aesthetic #academia #studyspo #student aesthetic #light academia #light academia aesthetic #aesthetic

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gravehags · 2 months

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Cardinal Marian outside the Office Supply store. She and Copia take the trip every week when he was Head Treasurer. Everything she's wearing is from garage sales. Can't be bothered to actually shop (especially since she mostly wears the cardinal cassocks that she finds unflattering)

(PS I like this picrew thanks for finding it)

I LOVE HER and i love her devilish smile i know she and copia went ham in that office supply store, as is their right!!

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machihunnicutt · 7 months

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HELLO!!! 14 or 21, if either of those speak to you???

HELLO!!! Loved both of these...tried to incorporate both:

14. being calmed by the familiar feeling of the other's body molding into theirs & 21. cuddles without doing anything else even though they have a bunch of things to do

“Are you hiding out in here?” BJ said.

Hawkeye was sprawled, arms and legs out like a starfish, on their bed. He was wearing a pair of borrowed (stolen) running shorts, a sweaty t-shirt, and his tennis shoes, which were hanging off of the mattress.

He poked his head up to look at BJ, standing in the doorway.

“I don’t know where she gets all that energy from,” Hawkeye said: hushed, as if Erin could hear downstairs.

She had the radio on, full blast, and just before BJ wandered off in search of Hawk, she’d been reorganizing the piles of toys she was keeping and the toys she was labeling with a rainbow assortment of price stickers, for the garage sale.

“She’s 13,” BJ said.

“She accused me of being a hoarder,” Hawkeye said.

“She’s going through a minimalist phase. It’ll pass,” BJ said.

Peg had enlisted Erin’s help in her spring cleaning endeavors, which had culminated in Erin’s first Mill Valley garage sale. Erin was always eager to assist, particularly with projects that allowed her to organize things or order people around. She liked taking money and making change. She liked selling fresh squeezed, super sour, best in town (her words) lemonade and making bargains and trades with her old baby dolls and jump ropes and clothes she’d outgrown.

When they’d picked her up at the airport, for her summer visit, she’d recounted her escapades as a young entrepreneur and organizational savant with such animation, that BJ had agreed to let her host another sale at their house in Maine. He hadn’t thought about how much stuff they had and how many boxes and trash bags and superfluous pieces of furniture Erin would want to drag out onto the lawn and pepper with price tags.

Hawk wiggled to the right and patted the space beside him.

“You don’t think I’m a hoarder, do you?” Hawkeye said, as BJ stretched out beside him.

Hawkeye rolled on his side and pressed up against him, slinging one arm over BJ’s chest. He was warm, and still a little breathless. They fit together the way they always did: Hawkeye’s stomach flush with BJ’s ribs, his ankle hooked around BJ’s, his chin tucked over BJ’s shoulder, his eyes closed, and his nose pressed to the side of BJ’s neck.

“I think you—have an exceptional eye for knick knacks,” BJ said.

“Useless knick knacks, that I hoard,” Hawkeye said.

“Don’t blame yourself. Knick knacks aren’t known for their utility,” BJ said.

Hawkeye laughed. This, too, was familiar: the buzzing, exultant, vibration of the sound. BJ laughed too, at his own joke. It was a chain reaction. It always was, when they were lying like this.

“Those salt and pepper shakers shaped like teddy bears are useful, and charming,” Hawkeye said.

They’d found them antiquing. Hawk said they reminded him of Radar. He’d carried them around the shop for half an hour, while they’d browsed.

“Don’t tell me she wants to get rid of those,” BJ said.

Hawkeye pressed closer and kissed the underside of BJ’s jaw.

“She’s still working on the living room. I steered her away from the kitchen while you were going through all the crap in the garage,” he said.

“Oh, so the kitchen’s got all the treasures and the garage is full of my crap?” BJ said.

“Our crap,” Hawkeye said.

“Our crap,” BJ said, grinning.

He could hear Erin downstairs, singing along to a Buddy Holly song at the top of her lungs. She’d wear herself out soon, he knew, and ask if they could go out for ice cream.

“I can talk to her, get her to tone it down a little. She gets very passionate about her projects,” BJ said.

“I love that about her. She gets that from you,” Hawkeye muttered: drowsy, muffled against BJ’s collarbone.

“I’m just saying you shouldn’t let her talk you into parting with things you don’t want to part with. She’s a reasonable kid,” BJ said.

A long pause.

“Hawk? You awake?”

Hawkeye hummed. BJ looked down at the top of his head. He studied the sweat-damp tangle of his dark hair, streaked with silver.

“A little decluttering is probably a good thing. I don’t have to hang onto everything for dear life anymore,” Hawkeye said. He relaxed his grip around BJ’s middle.

“That’s true. We’re sticking together, you and I. So’s our stuff,” BJ said.

“Our stuff,” Hawkeye said. He tipped his head back and looked up at BJ. “I like that it’s our stuff,” he said, voice soft.

There had been a time when there were very few objects by which BJ could remember Hawkeye. There had been a time when they were across the country from each other, and everything that belonged to the both of them, together, was stuffed in BJ’s old army trunk, under his bed, collecting dust. There had been a time when Hawk had very little of him: a shoebox full of letters, a couple fading photos, mismatched socks that had never been traded back.

“So do I,” BJ said.

“Maybe we can introduce Erin to the joys of patronizing other people’s garage sales,” Hawkeye said.

“Peg will have my head if we send her home with an extra bag of nonsense,” BJ said.

“She can keep it here,” Hawkeye said.

“What about decluttering?” BJ said.

Hawkeye exhaled, with extra drama. “Everyone’s a critic,” he said.

“We should get up. We’ve got things to do,” BJ said.

Hawkeye kissed him, long and lazy.

“I’m plenty busy,” he said.

The volume of the music downstairs lowered, fractionally.

“Dad?” Erin called.

“Yeah, bug?” BJ said.

“I’m out of orange stickers,” she said.

“She’s out of orange stickers, Beej,” Hawkeye repeated, gravely.

“Maybe it’s time for an ice cream break,” BJ said.

Hawkeye sat up. His hair was mussed and his face was pink. He stretched, languidly, and yawned. BJ missed the sensation of Hawk’s skin against his.

He pressed his palm to BJ’s knee and squeezed. Sometimes BJ thought Hawk could read his mind. Maybe the feeling went both ways.

“Inspired idea,” Hawk said.

#ty parker :)#ask awi #awi's fic #beejhawk #mash #what can i say i love garage sales

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infinite-orangepeel · 2 years

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soft steddie ficlet: valentine’s day & treasure hunting edition

(in which eddie gives steve a very meaningful/unique valentine’s day gift)

very fluffy and appropriate for all ages, enjoy !! <3

eddie munson is a self-proclaimed “cool rock connoisseur/shiny weird trinket collector” by nature.

ever since he was a little kid he’s been adding to his collection of weird animal bones, strange rocks, dead flower petals, etc. always been something of an amateur treasure hunter (professional if you ask him about it).

most people think it makes him even more of a freak but his best friend, steve harrington, absolutely lives to see his newest discoveries. once spending all afternoon in eddie’s bedroom as he intently listened to the detailed story behind each piece. never once making fun of him or yawning in boredom. instead surprising him by asking thought provoking questions, gently holding each item to display his understanding of its precious value, and occasionally bringing seashells from his family’s beach house to add to the growing reserve.

flash forward to today. eddie and steve are much more than friends having confessed their feelings and entering into a budding relationship. and with valentine’s day on the horizon, eddie knows he has to figure something out to make his new boyfriend feel adored and special (like one of the shiny rocks in his collection).

so he ventures out on a quest for the entire month of january leading up to the big day. on the few days he and steve don’t hang out; he visits the local thrift stores, antique shops, neighborhood garage sales, and takes long walks through the woods. collecting rarities, lost things, vintage splendor, and orphaned objects in need of a new home as he goes. his only stipulation is that each find has to be representative of steve in some way.

by the end of his curation, he’s quite pleased with the collection. though a bit nervous about the actual reveal—worried steve will be hoping for something more extravagant and expensive. perhaps he’d rather eddie go the cliche route. it is their first valentine’s day together, after all. maybe steve wants eddie to get him a bundle of red roses and chocolates like most normal couples do. however nothing about steve or eddie has ever been quite normal which is why the idea came to him in the first place so he presses onwards. trying to maintain confidence until the day finally comes.

he sets out to fill an empty heart-shaped box of chocolates with his finds. arranging them carefully and with great consideration. there’s a vintage silver hair clip in the shape of a butterfly, a tiger’s eye crystal that perfectly resembles the colors of steve’s own amber eyes, twin pebbles he found down by the quarry which call to mind the pair of moles on steve’s cheek, an antique gold pendant engraved with the letter ‘e,’ a few sprigs of lavender from the bushes that grow around the perimeter of his house (right by where they shared their first kiss), a pearl earring missing its match, a chunk of rose quartz to bring about love, etc.

on valentine’s day, he and steve go for a picnic in the meadow—wanting to enjoy each other’s company without the homophobic glares they usually get around hawkins. they lay out a mess of blankets and eddie brings his guitar and they kiss under the stars while drinking mulled wine and joking about this and that.

and when steve’s not paying attention, eddie plops the heart-shaped box in his boyfriend’s lap. it’s wrapped in red plastic and boasts the name of the candy company on the front. meant to delude him just a bit.

steve: aw, eds. you got me chocolates ? baby, that’s so sweet—literally. *he wiggles his eyebrows and laughs at his own joke*

such a fucking dork, eddie thinks.

knowing it’s stupid dad jokes like that one that made him fall in love with steve harrington all that time ago.

eddie: *pulls steve into his lap and pets a hand through his grown out hair* actually it’s not chocolates, hope that doesn’t disappoint you too much. its something else or i guess it’s multiple something elses—you’ll see. c’mon. why don’t we figure it out together ? open it up for me, big boy.

steve: *eyebrows furrowed in confusion* i can smell mischief on you from a mile away, munson. if this is a prank—

and eddie knows how badly steve’s been hurt in the past, knows exactly where the cracks in his delicate heart are located, so he kisses him slowly and whispers reassuring words in his ears. active reminders of his love and affection. reminders that he’d never do anything to hurt this boy, has quite the opposite intention.

eddie’s palms are clammy. he’s a bit shaky too, but steve’s blushing and giggling like a school girl, now, so maybe it won’t be that bad. maybe he’ll think it’s kind of cute or keep one of the pieces. eddie thinks he can live with that just fine.

steve: alright, let’s see— *opens the box, eyes widening dramatically* oh—oh my god. eddie.

eddie: yeah it’s kinda—i had this idea to start putting together my own little collection of treasures for you. i mean—not to be horribly cheesy or make you cringe but well—you’re the greatest treasure i’ve ever found and valentine’s day is about love and i love you more than anything so—

steve: *grabs eddie’s face in his hands, thumbs grazing his cheekbones softly* y-you love me ? you mean that ?

eddie: mean it with my whole damn heart, harrington.

steve: *eyes watering* i love you too, eds. i’ve wanted to tell you that for a long time.

eddie: me too, sweetheart. me too.

they turn back to the gift, both laughing and tearing and holding each other close.

steve’s quiet, eyes roaming over each of the items as eddie rushes to explain their meaning—stumbling over his words as he tries to paint the full picture for him:

eddie: the lavender came from right behind my house because we had our first kiss there and well, i know you’ve been anxious lately, so i thought it might help. it’s supposed to be really calming and if you like it, i’ll make you whole bouquets of the stuff—

eddie: the pendant belonged to this old woman i met down on cornwallis. she was cleaning out her house and i stopped by to help her move some of the heavier boxes. when i told her my name, she told me she was a widow and that her husband’s name was edward and she used to wear the ‘e’ pendant all the time but was finally ready to part with it—

just like that initial day in eddie’s bedroom when they were just two friends getting to know each other better—steve doesn’t interrupt, pays close attention, and keeps his eyes locked on eddie’s own as he continues rambling.

eddie: —and if it’s stupid—i don’t know—if you think it’s kinda weird or whatever, no worries ! just like maybe don’t tell me right now and you can dump it in the trash when i’m not looking. i know it’s not anything fancy or expensive but it’s—well, it’s you and i wanted it to be different and special and show you how amazing i really think you are and—

steve tackles him to the ground, rolls over top of him on the blankets and kisses him senseless. makes out with him like they’re two teenagers on the run. and he’s crying. salty sweet tears of joy that melt on eddie’s tongue like spun sugar.

eddie: okay either you’re suddenly a really good actor or i did a good job and you don’t hate it ?? *tucks steve’s hair behind his ear and kisses his nose, wiping stray tears*

steve: a good job ? you think that i think you did a good job ? that’s the understatement of the goddamn century, munson. no one has ever given me anything this thoughtful in my entire life. especially not for valentine’s day. and i’ve been insanely jealous of your trinkets since the day i first found out about them. and now we can hunt for them together, make whole dates out of it.

eddie almost passes out because there’s no way anyone as perfect as steve has ever possibly existed in the history of the universe. he’s certain their soulmates, but he’ll save that confession for another special day.

eddie: *laughing giddily* so is this you officially agreeing to be my valentine ?

steve: i’d have to be an absolute fool to say no, dude. of course i’ll be your valentine, duh. now come on let’s go steal a chain from my moms jewelry box so i can wear this ‘e’ around my neck until the day i die….

eddie: and in the afterlife, too ?

steve: yes, yes, of course in the afterlife, too ! *steve pulls him to his feet and spins him around in a circle, lifting him off the ground* want everyone to know your my ghost boyfriend, can’t have any of the other dead souls thinking they can get some of that perfect, flat ass. *he smacks it jokingly as is his favorite pastime* now c’mon, let’s get in the car !! we have treasure hunting to do !

the end <3 what a bunch of weirdos !

as always, lmk any of your thoughts in the comments and/or if you’d like to join my steddie ficlet tag list for future posts of this nature. kisses and happy early valentine’s day 💌

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