#long live fic

[fabbyf1]

It's that time of year besties! I called it back when I posted Long Live on AO3... I knew it would be my most-played song this year. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. I think of that fic at least once a day 😭

[welcometololaland]

i watched a lot of vampire diaries and nobody's ship didn't meet with some fuckery and we used to say we all got "plec'd". So, last night we all got Minear'd.

But its gonna be okay. If the writers can forget half their own canon, i can too.

WE ARE STILL GETTING MARRIED. IN LESS THAN 18 WEEKS.

I'm so sorry, anon. I've been on a little hiatus for a bit! I want you to know that i laughed so hard at this 😂

I feel your pain re TVD although I didn't make it all the way to the end...when I found out the ending I was not happy. Huge Stefan fan right here.

I suggest we get in a prayer circle and just chant "all roads lead to the wedding". I didnt love the 4 x 01 - 4 x 04 arc, but I've made my peace with it despite the plot holes (as I must since unfortunately writers do not write TV shows specifically for me - not sure why though).

"if the writers can forget half their own canon, we can too" <- this is truly iconic of you

[ky-landfill]

[wasabi-gumdrop]

oh

i am. unwell.

[bolithesenate]

i just really love designing togruta montrals

and thinking about how the patterns change as they grow

they are very shapes

[fastcardotmp3]

Eddie Munson does do the whole rock star thing, but it doesn't quite go the way it did in the daydreams of a sixteen-year-old kid trying to stay awake in school.

He leaves Hawkins after the world doesn't end, gets himself out there, takes all the hurt and fear and fucked up shit and puts it into a handful of good enough songs to get himself signed.

It's not quite the genre he grew up with, not quite something any of his idols might have played, but only because it is so entirely Eddie, so influenced by where he's been and what he's seen that it kind of doesn't fit one specific influence.

It's new and it's good, is the point. Really good. And he skyrockets fast enough to give himself the spins.

He's recognizable and then he's famous and then he's too famous and too young to know what to do with it and too far from home and everyone he loves to really cope with it and it's just.

Eddie isn't built for it. Eddie hasn't even processed the fact that he was maybe supposed to die in that place, or the fact that he did watch people better than him actually die, but he's out here shooting to the top of the charts and being called the next big thing and it's too much.

It's just enough, at the end of it all, for him to self-sabotage his way out of being more than a one-hit wonder.

One big hit, a contract broken by the guys at the top with the fancy lawyers because Eddie has become the too much thing, just like always, and it's over as quick as it started.

He disappears, becomes one of those whatever happened to him? he was supposed to be the next big thing? stories that travel by word of mouth and then fade with the shift in conversation.

So what does happen to Eddie Munson?

He falls hard, he hits rock bottom, he crawls his way home to an uncle who deserved for Eddie to really make it, make him proud, have him financially set for life and get him into a real house with two stories and a garage to park the truck in, maybe even a yard for a dog.

He spirals and isolates and falls apart and stops letting himself make music at all and makes some personal choices that will probably have lasting effects on him for the rest of his life and then somewhere along the line a girl with hair like tangerines and terrible aim manages to smack him with her cane and says if I learned to walk again, so can you, asshole.

There are people in his life again after that, a reason to get out of bed and realize that he can make Wayne proud in more ways than the one he'd already fucked straight to hell.

Eddie watches a bunch of kids graduate high school and then he packs up and chases down some people who pulled him out of hell once before up in Chicago, crashes on Steve and Robin's couch until he gets himself a job painting houses and they can afford three bedrooms instead of just the two.

He cuts his hair, not short but shorter, and he gets more tattoos and itches for the guitar that sits in a case under his bed, ignores it. Itches for the pen in his hand, ignores that too.

He's still barely past his mid-20s and he still has some fucking around left to get out of his system, some finding out to accomplish doubly so, but he learns as he goes no matter whether it's forwards or backwards.

He falls in love and falls out of it, gets fired from jobs and tracks down new ones, gets into fights with his friends because they're all a little fucked up and codependent and weird but makes up with them for the same reasons.

The thing with Steve happens slowly, going from tolerating each other for the sake of knowing they'll always be on the same team to genuinely liking each other to discovering a care between the two of them that's a bit too strong to be normal about even if it still takes them a half-dozen so-called turning points to really name it and take it and keep it.

Eddie's 33 when they buy a condo together on the outskirts of Chicago two weeks after they fall into bed with each other for the first time, and he's over a decade on from being a kid who rose to the top too fast but it doesn't feel dissimilar, that sensation of a too-good thing that's bound to go wrong.

Only this time he doesn't try to sabotage it, tries the opposite, tries to hold it tightly in ways that would probably be too tight for anyone other than Steve Harrington with all his deeply intense feelings and inability to love at anything other than an eleven.

It's in the move that Steve finds a box of notebooks, snoops because it's who he is, and finds years worth of words that never made it past the tip of a pen but did, eventually, make it that far.

And it's not an easy thing, convincing Eddie that they're words worth sharing, because Eddie doesn't want it to be an easy thing. He can't let kind words shoved into his orbit by a beautiful man be enough to make it feel worth it, can't see a world where sharing his art doesn't end in another great big self-induced mess that he can't let happen when he's finally found something good.

He doesn't want to go on tour and get screamed at on stage and, besides, he's pretty sure the rest of the world doesn't want to scream for him anymore either, but then Steve has to go and remind him--

"You don't have to be the face of it. You can just be the words; you are so fucking good at being the words, Ed."

Which still isn't quite enough to be convincing, but it's a start in a solid six months of the words coming easier now that he has someone to share them with, someone to listen as Eddie plucks away at a guitar that sits out in the open now, free of dust.

It stops feeling like something shameful to hide, his music, and the thing is? It doesn't feel how it did back then either.

It's not an escape or a purge of violent energy or a distraction from everything he didn't know how to think about. Sure, it takes all of that into consideration because it takes the whole of Eddie into consideration, but more than anything it's just fun.

Like he's thirteen and still learning how to play the guitar, like it's just a hobby that never has to go anywhere, like it's just art that maybe deserves to be heard.

Everyone pitches in on ideas when they find out he's trying to come up with a pseudonym, and it's goofy and supportive and kind of the final straw in reaching out to old, burned bridges to see about any new artists looking for equally new tunes.

The first time Eddie and Steve catch familiar lyrics being sung by a new hotshot band on the radio, Eddie cries not because he's jealous or disappointed, but because it feels right.

He doesn't like being up in front of the crowds, had only ever walked across tables and made himself big and scary and loud out of self preservation, would always rather his biggest performances be for the people he knows really care.. Besides, after everything he's survived he's learned, albeit slowly, that he really likes the freedom of the quiet.

This way he still gets to say what he has to say, gets to throw his hat into the ring of an artform that he loves without selling his soul to a machine that tried to eat him alive (trust him. he knows what that feels like.)

Of course, someone is going to put 2 and 2 together eventually, the industry isn't as big as it looks and pseudonyms only pull so much weight when you went out in such a spectacularly messy and memorable fashion, but Eddie's got his condo in Chicago.

He's got the guy he shares it with in his bed.

He's got two cats and a windowsill full of plants he's going to keep alive this time, Steve, just you watch.

He's got his uncle settled in Indy these days, a small place with a small yard.

He's got music, too. Turns out even his own tendency to self-destruct couldn't take that away, huh?

It's what got him out of hell alive, after all.

[defectiveferalfreak]

i rediscovered @nicktoonsunite and @choraa ‘s art like wowie did they inspire me to dip my toes into NUverse??

also i cant believe Dib and Zim basically waltzed into NU:GoD, like WHATS UP B*TCHS WE  GONNA HELP WHETHER U WANT IT OR NOT like can u believe that lol

[hedwig221b]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @endwersed 💗 and @dear-massacre 💗 centuries ago but I swear I didn't have any wips at all though now I'm getting back into it

💜

Derek froze in place.

He felt cold and he felt hot. Breaths just wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to blink.

The omega looked stunning.

Ethereal and deific. How could someone be this beautiful? He looked like sex personified.

His slim toned body moved with natural grace, almost gliding on the floor. His fair skin was kissed with constellations of beauty marks that went down his cheeks and neck. He was dressed simply, yet even the grey sweatshirt hugged his narrow waist in such a sinful way that one couldn’t help but yearn to grab it; his long legs in black jeans would look so wonderful while spread.

His face, however, made all those works of art seem like child’s paintings. Oh, how they failed to capture the beauty. How dare they even attempt?

The omega’s chestnut hair was ruffled, his beautiful dark amber eyes red-rimmed but even more so beautiful. Upon seeing Derek, the omega opened his pretty mouth in a small gasp — and, fuck, his lips.

Fuck.

Fuck.

And then, as if Derek wasn’t stunned enough, a small grin bloomed across the omega’s mouth.

Quick as a fawn, he descended down the stairs and stopped a step or two above Derek, his eyes running all over his face.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Derek rasped.

For some reason, the omega blushed. He put the rucksack down on the floor, then lifted his right hand and daintily offered it to Derek with an almost shy smile.

No one moved.

“Stiles,” Deaton bit through his teeth.

The omega’s smile dwindled as he looked first at Deaton, then at the woman, and finally stopped his wide-eyed gaze at Derek who stood there like a fucking idiot.

“Isn’t this how they do in movies?” the omega asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“How do you know what they do in movies?” asked Deaton, and when the omega snapped his mouth shut, turned to the woman. “We shall search for the contraband tonight.”

The woman nodded.

With blush spreading down his face, the omega started to withdraw his hand.

It was then that Derek finally got his bearings.

Quickly, he caught the omega’s hand, causing him to jump, and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles.

Oh, what he would give to scent him.

“I don’t mind,” said Derek, then cleared his throat from the deepening lust.

[asliceofzosan]

in which Zoro takes the blame for not paying for the food at the Baratie (sequel to Sanji witnessing the riceball incident in Shells Town)

Ribeye steaks piled one on top of the other, a massive helping of mashed potatoes with boatloads of gravy, salads, soups, and fancy dishes with names Zoro can't pronounce — all made up the massively long order list that he knows Luffy has not a single Berry to his name to pay with.

Zoro looks around the place, tuning out the story of the giant goldfish that Usopp has told them before, his eyes resting on the blonde waiter flitting about and flirting with every woman at every table.

Sanji was his name. Zoro didn't recognize it. But when he arrived to their table and saw Zoro, it looked like their resident waiter recognized him. Zoro's reputation in the East Blue is not a laughing matter, so it didn't bother him at first. But the way Sanji stared at him, wide blue eyes and with a touch of a smile on his lips, told Zoro that there's something a lot more than recognition swimming in that man's head.

He can't put a finger on what it is exactly though. It's driving him crazy.

"Waiter, can I get a beer and something for my friends?"

Sanji turns to him and nearly steps back in shock. Zoro quirks an eyebrow, confused and a little annoyed. He wore his best clothes today (Captain's orders). And he's pretty sure he even took his mandatory once-a-week bath before they went inside (Nami's orders). Still the waiter looked at him like Zoro had grown a second head. Like he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

"Maybe there really is something wrong with your eye," Zoro muses, crossing his arms as Sanji quickly straightens his posture and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Got a problem with me, waiter?"

Sanji coughs out a laugh. Zoro notes with narrowed eyes that there is the slightest tint of pink coloring his cheeks. Is he blushing? The fuck?

"None at all, sir. I think I was just seeing things." The look in the waiter's eyes betrays his statement but Zoro chooses to say nothing. With a practiced smile, he turns back to Nami and asks her how she'd like her water that makes Zoro stare at him this time like he's grown a second head.

"And um..." Zoro is surprised Sanji hasn't left yet and is once again directly addressing him. "We have a few specialty riceballs not on the menu today. I'll bring them out... on the house."

Without even explaining what the fuck that meant, Sanji turns on his heels and beelines straight for the kitchen.

"I think Nami's boyfriend might be yours too, Zoro." Usopp teases him with a snicker and the glare he gives him is sharper than the blades of his swords.

Now, here Zoro is, letting Ussop's words affect him more than they have any right to as he downs his third bottle of beer.

The specialty rice balls haven't come out yet. Zoro's starting to think it's just a sick joke. But he doesn't let it get to him. Or tries to. Why offer free food when you can't deliver on it? Fucking ridiculous. And no, it's not like he suddenly craved rice balls when the blasted waiter mentioned them. That's not it at all. Bullshit.

"Didn't the waiter said he's coming by with rice balls?" Zoro finally snaps and the conversation his crew was having died down immediately at his statement. Ah fuck. He probably should have just kept his mouth shut because Nami was now looking at him with a shit-eating grin not entirely unlike the one he gave her when he teased her before the meal.

"How would you like them, oh great swordsman?" She teases with a glint in her eye. She cups her cheeks with her hands in delight at the irritated snarl Zoro gives her.

"With or without seaweed?" Ussop chimes in.

"Cubed or crushed?"

"Fuck off," Zoro hisses between his teeth. Nami and Ussop share a look before bursting into laughter. Zoro looks over at Luffy who was swinging his feet and obliviously sipping his milk. When Luffy makes eye contact with him, he just tilts his head with wide blank eyes and it makes Zoro question all his life choices.

"You wanna ask him?" Luffy says, already clamoring over the booth and waving at the object of Zoro's unexplained irritation. Zoro sinks into the seat as Sanji approaches with the bill for their meal.

"Your bill, sir."

"Zoro's asking if you're gonna bring the rice balls you promised." Zoro just stared up at the ceiling and thought of a million different ways to cut a hole into the floor so that the ocean could take him.

There is a headache inducing silence that follows Luffy's question. Zoro can't help but finally look at the waiter and he doesn't know how to explain the feeling that bubbles up when they make direct eye contact. Maybe it's indigestion. It's probably indigestion.

Instead of bringing up the damn rice balls, Zoro just grabs the tray with the bill from Luffy's hand. Just as expected, his annoyingly endearing captain put down an I.O.U for the ridiculously long list of food they ordered. Several possible scenarios could happen from this. And Zoro doesn't want to think about Luffy wreaking havoc in someone else's kitchen.

With a deep sigh through his nose and a knowing look at Nami, Zoro wrote down his own name in place of Luffy's.

"Zoro, what—" Luffy almost took the bill back when Zoro stood up and handed it directly to the waiter, who looked just as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

"If your head chef's got a problem with that, he can talk to me directly. Tell him that for me, won't you?" Sanji takes the bill, reads what's written, and there's a phantom lurch in his chest that happens when Sanji looks up at him and smiles. Zoro doesn't want to describe it. He'll allow himself to firmly believe that it's a side effect of eating too much food. It's indigestion. You're just constipated. Never mind that the feeling is most prominent in his chest and not his stomach.

"Of course, sir." Sanji purrs and the sound runs like a cold river down Zoro's spine. There's a hint of mischief in the gleam of his visible eye. Every instinct in Zoro tells him it's dangerous. He should take his crew out of here, onto the Merry, and run.

But he stays rooted to the spot, wrist limp on the hilt of his sword, as he watches that damn waiter walk away from him.

"WHO THE HELL IS RORONOA ZORO?!"

The steady routine of washing the dishes helps quiet Zoro's racing mind.

It's a very welcome distraction. The clinking of the ceramic against metal utensils provides a cacophonous symphony that helps drown out all of Zoro's waking thoughts. The sooner he starts to think, the sooner he starts to notice how that stupid fucking waiter has just been sitting at the table behind him, cursing Zoro with his mere presence.

Scrub scrub scrub...

"You sure you don't want any help?"

Scrub scrub rinse...

"No."

Scrub rinse dry...

"I really have nothing better to do."

Zoro's eye twitches.

"Good for you."

A long silence follows this and Zoro thinks the waiter finally gave up. That was until...

"Are you still mad about the rice balls?"

"Oh my god!" Zoro nearly slams a pile of dishes onto the floor. He turns to Sanji, who is just casually smoking at the table, and stomps over to him. Once he was right in front of him, Zoro snarls at him, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Talk about those damn rice balls one more time, I'm gonna chop your head clean off for them to use in tomorrow's ramen stock."

Sanji blinks, then turns his head to the side to blow smoke away from Zoro. Zoro tries to convince himself that he isn't staring at the way Sanji's lips purse around the cigarette in the process.

"I can still make you the rice balls," Sanji says without a single ounce of fear in his body. "I just couldn't do it while the old man was around." He then stands up and steps around Zoro with a practiced grace. "Are you willing to wait ten minutes?"

"I'm not hungry," Zoro hisses but his stomach betrays him with a loud grumble. He's been washing dishes for so many hours. He probably missed dinner.

Then, as Zoro straightens his posture, Sanji does it again — he smiles and Zoro doesn't know what to do.

"Sit." Sanji gently nudges a chair out with his foot. It lands perfectly in front of Zoro at a perpendicular angle. "I'll have them out in five."

"You said ten minutes." Zoro found himself saying, only to be contradictory. Sanji laughs this time and the resulting smile pierces Zoro's heart with a million cursed swords.

"When someone's hungry, I feed them." Sanji says simply and that's the statement that ends their conversation. Zoro still refuses to sit on the chair, instead finding himself gravitating towards the counter that Sanji was preparing his ingredients at and leaning against the marble.

Before Sanji found them at their table, he brought down a marine and a fearsome pirate with just his feet. Zoro was fascinated by his fighting style even if he didn't want to admit it out loud. But he's always been curious. Especially now, with Sanji whipping out the sharpest knives and using them effortlessly as Zoro would wield the Wado Ichimonji.

"You're good with knives," Zoro says before he could stop himself. Sanji chuckles.

"Of course, I am. I'm a chef. Best one in the East Blue."

"What's a chef doing waiting tables, then?"

"Cause I was kicked off the line this morning. It's a weekly occurrence, nothing special." The way Sanji scrapes his ingredients into a bowl betrayed how he felt about it despite his nonchalance. "I can cook better dishes than everyone in this damn kitchen but Zeff refuses to acknowledge that. It's always 'your food is crap', 'slice those carrots thinner', or 'needs more fucking oregano—"

Sanji throws the knife onto the cutting board, its tip now embedded neatly straight down the middle. It stood perfectly still, like it was afraid of what Sanji could do if he added more pressure. Zoro raised an eyebrow, looking up at the now irritated cook with a smirk.

"Sorry," Sanji mumbles, taking the knife and cleaning it carefully with a cloth. Zoro says nothing. He just props his elbow on the counter and places his chin into his hand as he watches Sanji in his element. Eventually, it's down to just shaping the rice balls with his hands and Zoro asks the question that poked at his mind during Sanji's mini outburst.

"If you're so dissatisfied cooking here why don't you just leave?"

Sanji pauses. His head is down, his blonde fringe obscuring one eye as his fingers twitch against the rice ball.

"It's not about that."

"Yeah?" Zoro leans as close as he could get with the counter between them. Sanji still refuses to look up. "A hot-headed cook who claims to be the best in the East Blue settling down here — where he is not head chef — is as contradictory as it gets."

"You don't know–" Sanji snaps but stops himself immediately. He looks up to glare at Zoro through narrowed eyes. "You don't know why I still stay."

"Enlighten me then, cook." Zoro leans his hip against the counter. "Because really, someone as good as you claim to be has got to have some ambitions. Dreams." Zoro holds the man's gaze. "Do you hate the old man?"

"No!" Sanji counters immediately. "The man fucking raised me. I owe him my goddamn life!"

"Owing him your life isn't the same as giving up your life to work at a restaurant that barely lets you cook."

"You don't know shit!" Sanji nearly slams his fist down on the counter, pointing a finger at Zoro with his face beet red. "This restaurant was his dream—"

"But is it your dream?"

Silence. Total utter silence.

Where color is nothing but a dark void of black and grey, a sea of blue greets him from the pages. Vivid pink skies and tangerine mangroves burst to life. All types of fish swim in his mind's eye but if he reaches out to touch them, it certainly should be real. A phantom breeze kisses his cheeks and water laps at his feet. He's drowning but he swims in delight. He's falling but he feels the clouds cushion him with warmth.

There is a vast ocean out there, one that contains delicacies and species from all four seas. Creatures of every kind, spices that have never been tasted.

The All Blue.

In Sanji's world of black and white — he strives to find the one place that's in screaming color.

There are tears in Sanji's eyes before Zoro could comprehend what was going on. But he wipes them away before he can get a good look at him. The kitchen was quiet around them. The only sound peeking through was the faint music from the bar outside. Though Zoro's heartbeat was louder in his ears than his own breathing.

But he could hear each footstep Sanji takes, the scrape of the plate as it's pushed in Zoro's direction, and the click click of Sanji's lighter as he helps himself to another cigarette. Zoro looks down and sees the rice balls presented in front of him — three heaping helpings, all coated in a different topping, all different flavors.

Zoro takes one.

And it's the best rice ball he's ever had in his life.

"I have a dream," Sanji murmurs, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. One glance and Zoro could see that whatever his dream is... it still burns like molten lava in the heart of this chef. "I'd just rather give up on it than die searching for mine."

Zoro swallows, turns around, and takes the cigarette from Sanji. The ashes fall into his palm, its embers dimming as he squishes it between his fingers.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Zoro says, looking up to make eye contact with Sanji. He can see it almost immediately — the longing for something that seems near impossible to achieve, the acceptance that it's hopeless — but Zoro sees it, clear as day, that the flickering flame of hope still shines in Sanji's eyes. That he's just waiting for his sign to let it once again consume his soul in a roaring fire, brighter than even the sun could be.

Zoro wants to see him shine.

"Come meet my captain," Zoro instinctively wraps his hand around Sanji's wrist. Surprisingly, Sanji doesn't pull back. "I think he'd really like to get to know you."

Sanji doesn't protest.

Zoro takes the rice balls to go.

Never waste food.

[fabbyf1]

If Warming Verse and Long Life had a child, you’d get the Las Vegas weekend

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16

Steve gets home and enters into chaos.

The older teens are nowhere to be found—Steve hopes they’re still in the shed—but the boys are arguing, pointing first at sheets on the table, then each other.

“No, you dumbass-”

“Oh, I’m the dumbass? I’m the one who forgot oxygen?”

Steve sighs. “Always the damn babysitter,” he mumbles to himself, fighting a smile. “Alright, cut it out!” He says, loud enough to be heard over the arguing. Immediately, everyone turns to him. He crosses his arms and nods at them. “What’s going on?”

Immediately they’re all talking over each other, doing their best to give Steve a headache. He sighs and raises a hand, and slowly they all peter off. “One at a time. Lucas?”

Lucas sighs. “We’re still trying to figure out the best way to weaponize fire down there.”

“And you’re disagreeing on something?”

“Yeah, we all think it would be best to do it different ways.”

Steve nods. “Write down a list of all the pros and cons you can think of. Pass the lists around in case you’ve forgotten something. When they’ve all been passed around, compare them together. But please, if it’s at all possible for you, do it quietly. If for no other reason than El’s still resting.”

“Oh,” Mike says quietly, and they all get to work, scribbling out their lists.

Steve sighs and scans the rest of the room, smiling when he sees Eddie leaning on the doorway. “Hey. Wanna help me bring stuff in?”

“Sure,” Eddie shrugs, and follows him out. It’s silent for a few moments before he speaks. “Y’know, a part of me was hesitant to believe everything until just about three minutes ago.”

Steve chuckles. “It does sound crazy,” he agrees. “What changed your mind?”

“You,” Eddie says simply, like it doesn’t send Steve’s heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “The way you are with the kids.”

Steve chuckles. “Y’know that’s the very reason we started to get along, before?” He glances at Eddie as he shuts the trunk. “We saw how we were with them. We were both a little jealous of each other, mainly cause of Dustin. I swear, he was always going on about Eddie this, Eddie that, greatest Dungeon Master ever but don’t tell Will, and… I started to feel like I was being replaced.” He smirks. “Course, then you told me how he practically worshiped me, and I realized Dustin’s just being a shithead.”

Eddie snorts. “From what I’ve seen of them, that does seem pretty accurate.”

“I know this probably doesn’t mean much to you, but I’m glad you’re here.” He smiles at Eddie and walks inside, giving Eddie a second alone outside.

He almost runs into Robin as he turns the corner, steadying himself, the bag, and her. She looks up at his face, wide-eyed, then slowly morphs the look into a judgy one.

“What?”

“Quit breaking his brain, Dingus, let him actually like you as a person first.”

“How the hell could you tell that from my face?”

She gives him another supremely judgy look. “Have you forgotten I’ve known you for years? Steve,” she sighs, taking the bag from him. He lets her. “Don’t forget this is four years ago for them. At this point, does he even know who Chrissy is?”

“Okay,” Steve admits, “you may have a point. But we had a breakthrough just now! We were talking and he said he believes me because of how I am with the boys!”

Robin sighs again. “And did you respond with something that happens in the future?”

Steve splutters. “How do you do that?”

“I’ve known you for years, Stevie-boy, don’t forget.” She ruffles his hair as she passes. “Leave the future out of it,” she advises. “Live in the now.”

“Kinda hard to do, considering we’re here to change the future,” he says, just to be contrary. She gives him a look like she knows what he’s doing.

“Talk to him like you’re getting to know him for the first time, Steve. Because that’s where he is. Everything about the Upside Down, and even the kids… that’s all secondary. You got along because your personalities match. Give them a chance to.” She smirks at him. “And maybe show off a little bit of that Harrington charm I know is in there somewhere.”

He shakes his head, grinning. “You’ll see one day, Robs, I’ve got game.”

She grins, ruffling his hair one last time before dancing out of reach as he squawks at her. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Dingus.” She leaves, bringing the bag into the other room, and he sighs and follows her, wondering—not for the first time—how he ended up with her as a best friend.

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[luxaofhesperides]

(yourlocalcorviddad)

Wait wait wait, can there be more written about the one with Duke going on college tours with Danny??? If it's not too late?!??

(part one)

Danny’s been in love with Duke for years now. It’s always been kept a closely guarded secret, buried under as many wraps as he could get it. He tried to chase after other fleeting crushes in the hopes of moving on from his feelings for Duke, sure that they were never going to go anywhere.

How could they, when they lived states apart? 

The Danny back then would have never believed that he would one day be waking up in Duke’s arms in a hotel far away from home, traveling around the country to figure out a future together. 

Or rather, planning their own futures by each other’s sides, rather than planning to be together throughout college. Danny knows they’ll be spending even more years apart, chasing after their dreams, but it’s a gift just to a a summer together again. So what if it leads them to living on opposite sides of the country? They’ve managed to survive a long distance friendship for this long, they can keep it up for another few years.

And if it comes to it, Danny can just fly to wherever Duke is. He’s only gotten faster over the years, settling into his powers and practicing them so often. 

The future is daunting, but all his nerves are chased away by Duke’s smiles. 

“Can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says as they get settled at a restaurant in Massachusetts. They’re both tired, but the giddiness of getting together, of knowing their feelings are requited, keeps them energized and happy despite the long drive across state lines. 

“One state left, yeah?”

“Yeah, and I got Harvard first on the list so we can visit Jazz.”

“You’re the best,” Danny grins, stretching his legs out under the table to lightly knock his foot against Duke’s. 

This entire trip has felt like a daydream to him. It’s one thing being able to travel around the country with Duke, but to be able to kiss him wherever they go? Even now, two weeks later, Danny can’t believe how happy he is.

It makes the uncertainty of his future less scary. It helps distract him from how much he wants to escape his parents, despite how much he loves them.

Their conversation comes to a brief pause as a waiter comes by to take their order, writing everything down before hurrying away to keep up with the rush of activity in the semi-busy restaurant. 

“Oh,” Danny says, suddenly remembering the third person in their group, “Is Peter going to be joining us?” 

Peter, Duke’s chaperones, is odd but funny. He disappears and reappears like a magician, always carries a gun on him, and treats Duke like a little brother the rare moments he’s around. He’s mostly only been with them to act as transport, driving them around from university to university. 

Duke’s face does something strange when he hears Peter’s name, but it’s gone before Danny can figure out what that’s all about.

“Nah,” he answers, “He’s off doing his own thing. You’ve seen how he likes to follow his own plans.”

“So I guess we’re stopping here for the day?”

“Yeah. I’m sure we can find somewhere nice to spend the night, and until then we can explore—” Duke takes a quick moment to check the name of the town they’re in, helpfully stated on the restaurant’s wall of five star reviews “—Baldwinville. I’m sure there’s something for us to do around here.”

“I mean, we don’t have to do anything special, you know. I’d be happy to just to spend the day with you.”

Duke smiles softly, reaching over the table to take hold of Danny’s hand. “I’d like that too. Maybe we should just take some time and explore the place together. Have a relaxing day before we head to Cambridge.”

“That’ll be nice. I feel like it’s been forever since I had a quiet day.”

“Same!” Duke laughs. “Gotham’s wild, man. Did I ever tell you the story of having a barbeque with Killer Croc?”

“No! I can’t believe you kept that from me!”

Duke launches into the story as if it’s any other day, just the two of them hanging out. Danny’s enraptured as he always is when Duke shares his Gotham Stories. He doesn’t falter even when their food is brought out, and Danny tries not to blush too hard when Duke feeds Danny some of his meal, just so he can try it. 

There’s a reason Danny sometimes daydreams about what his wedding with Duke will look like, and it’s because of this.

But that’s getting way ahead of himself! He shoves the thoughts away and focuses on the story, enjoying their lunch together. 

Duke pays when they’re done, as has become routine; Danny had fought him about the first few times before Duke told him that it was all ‘Bruce fucking Wayne’s money so they don’t need to worry about costs.’ It’s a gift from the man himself to Duke, and rejecting it would be rude. 

That hit Danny right in his midwestern politeness and he could do nothing but let it happen, already planning thank you gifts for Bruce Wayne. 

They walk out into the quiet streets of Baldwinville, hand in hand. Summer has the air humid and full of buzzing insects, and the sweet scent of flowers surrounds them as they head down the sidewalk, idly looking into the display windows of each store they pass. The buildings are old, mostly made of brick, and carry a charm that’s lacking in the urban sprawl of Amity Park.

He likes it here. 

Honestly, he’s been liking a lot of what he’s seen in Massachusetts. 

He wouldn’t mind spending a few years here as he gets his Bachelor’s degree. Of course, it all depends on if he gets into the colleges of his choice, but he’s feeling hopeful about his future. He’s worked hard to bring his GPA up after his freshman year, and his ability to juggle and extreme workload has made him a master at getting things done before deadlines and adapting to things at the last minute. 

Danny idly swings their clasped hands between them as they walk, savoring the time they have together. 

The end of their summer trip is creeping up on them and Danny can feel the distance between them start to pull tight. 

They don’t speak until they wander into a park, just a large grassy field filled with wildflowers and bees. There are a few benches placed beneath large trees and Duke leads them over to it to take advantage of the offered shade.

“I can’t believe we’re almost done,” Duke says, sitting down with a sigh. He tugs Danny down after him, and Danny goes willingly. He swings his legs up to drop them across Duke’s lap, leaning against him, his heart fluttering when Duke gets a hand around his thigh to keep him in place. 

“I don’t want this summer to end,” Danny admits. “I’m not ready to leave you again.”

“Hey, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going to be away from you any longer than I have to.”

Danny can’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss him, so he doesn’t. Duke meets him with a smile, keeping the kiss slow and sweet, though the way his hand skates up Danny’s thigh sends molten heat through his veins.

He pulls back before they can escalate any further (one time in public was enough; he’s still embarrassed by it and can’t look Peter in the eyes) and leans his head against Duke’s shoulder. “It would be nice if we could live together.”

“Planning out our future already? Well, in that case, I want a dog and a pet snake.”

“Why a pet snake?”

“Just feel like it.”

“A dog would be nice,” Danny says, “As long as it gets along with Cujo. Not sure about the snake, but if you can take care of it, I’d be fine with having it around.”

“Think you’d ever live in Gotham?”

Danny considers, then shrugs. “Maybe. I dunno, it sounds like a lot and I already dealt with so much just with the ghosts in Amity Park. But I don’t think I’d mind if I was with you.”

The smile that crosses Duke’s face is soft and Danny wants to see it all the time. He loves when Duke gets flustered; Danny just turns red and shy, but Duke becomes soft and adoring in a way that makes Danny feel like he’s holding sunlight, all warm and happy.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Duke says, not yet able to bite back his smile. “Now that we’ve visited most of the places on our list, do you know which ones you’re going to apply to?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” Danny answers. He’s been thinking about where he wants to go since summer started and he left school with Mr. Lancer reminder everyone to think about college and preparing their applications. 

It’s been a topic that’s never left his mind since for the past couple months, wondering about what the future holds for him. He honestly never thought he’s get this far, having died at 14 and struggled to adapt to how his life changed after. But he’s gotten back on track with school, has a handle on the ghosts, and the support of his parents to go anywhere he wants. 

For so long he’s been stuck in the routine of school, fight, struggle. There was never any time for anything else, much less planning for the future, and now it’s hanging heavy over his head. 

At least he gets to be with Duke as he figures things out. It’s like going back to their childhood, spending summers together, but they’re both grown up now, walking ever closer to the next stages of their lives. 

He’d love to get into MIT, but he knows the chances of being accepted are insanely low. He’ll apply anyways, just in case, but Danny’s prepared to go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere else in Massachusets. Or maybe go to New York. 

“I really liked the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. If I get in, I think I’m gonna go there,” Danny says, putting his hopes for the future into words.  

“Yeah? I think I might try to get into a college up here too,” Duke replies. “If things work out, we won’t be so far from each other.”

“And even if we do end up far away again, we can make long distance work. Right?”

There’s a worry in the back of his mind that Duke won’t like a long distance relationship, that he’ll be off in college falling in love with someone else, but there’s barely a second before Duke says, “Of course,” as though it’s obvious. Like he hadn’t considered any other option. 

Danny’s heart settles and he shoves away the rest of his general anxieties. There’s no time for that now! 

He intends to enjoy the rest of his summer trip with Duke to the fullest extent possible, which means all of that is a problem for Future Danny.

“Should we go find Peter? We’ll need to figure out where we’re staying tonight.”

“I think we can go a few more hours to a bigger town,” Duke says, “Not that this place isn’t nice, it’s just too quiet. It’s weird.”

“Alright, city boy,” Danny says, standing up from the bench. He pulls Duke up after him, leaning over to kiss the exaggerated offended expression off his face. It’s not like he’s wrong, anyways; Gotham is a big city, and Duke is an urban boy through and through, especially compared to Danny, who comes from a large town and has family living in reclusive rural Appalachia.

“Small towner,” Duke returns, nipping lightly at Danny’s bottom lip and laughing when he squeaks in surprise.

He pulls away before Danny can retaliate, and Danny lets him go, saving his revenge for after they get to their next hotel. 

Their time together is coming to an end soon, and as much as the future terrifies and excites him in equal measure, knowing Duke will be with him, one way or another, gives him the courage to keep going.

He hopes Jazz will be happy that Duke’s dating him now. He’s already hoping to ask her to be a bridesmaid for him.

[erosyrup]

—“...And so when he called for me, I went to him and– and I tried to kiss his mouth but he went for my throat and he bit down on it. He seems to have drawn blood.”

Want to see some angsty exR vampire action? Check them out in my Dracula x Les Mis fic! Literally rewrote the whole novel so that I could insert a bite scene :P

edit: oops forgot to add that I have a Ko-fi now! Feel free to leave a tip but just liking and rbing my art is more than enough!! :D ❤️❤️

[nartothelar]

But for the vampire au, have you considered Emmet getting Severely Hurt™️ and Ingo turning him to keep his brother alive?

Or do they have an agreement to just let things happen?

“No.” Emmet responds simply, decisively.

The answer is expected and yet, the disappointment Ingo feels is an unwelcome heaviness, his constant frown turning genuine without it meaning to.

Ingo had asked the very same question thrice times now.

Once was when they were kids. It was casual inquiry that came with little prompting; he had asked out of curiosity more than anything. Ingo had asked Emmet after they had defeated a trio of challengers off hand. Emmet had laughed, light and airy, when he answered. They had gotten ice cream using their winnings after.

The second time had been following a much more harrowing experience. A safety check forgotten, a simple mistake by a depot agent newly hired, had resulted in a derailed train. Fortunately only a few were injured. Unfortunately, one of those few was Emmet.

Ingo had asked him with bags under his eyes, something quite silly since Ingo didn’t even need to sleep. (Was that makeup? Emmet had joked with an exhausted smile.)

Emmet, laying in that hospital bed, IV's in his arm and a cask around his left leg, had responded much the same, a chuckle rather than a laugh. Perhaps his headache had come back to manage much more than that. Ingo didn’t attempt to change his mind and offered him the chicken noodle soup Elesa had brought for him.

And the third time was right now: Ingo sitting across from Emmet in the dining room of their shared apartment. It was morning and even though the windows curtains were drawn, the room was illuminated with a soft glow. In front of his brother was a plate of eggs and toast, him nursing a cup of black coffee. In front of Ingo was just a cup of tea, untouched and cooling.

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

The way he asks shows his cards far to easily. Whoever had said Subway Boss Ingo was hard to read must have not tried at all.

His brother looks at him, assessing him, and then looks away.

Emmet is silent for a minute, simply gazing at the cup in front of him. His food was getting cold.

Most would think Emmet was being hesitant when answering, that this was a sign he didn’t want to answer at all. But Ingo knows him well. He knows he wants to go over what he will day and that he voices his thoughts properly.

Ingo is patient and waits. Finally, Emmet answers.

“I like the sun.” His brother says, looking at him. The color of his eyes haven’t dulled all these years. “It feels warm on my skin. It feels good.”

“I love eating. The taste, the action. Yup!" Emmet picks at his plate with a hum. "I want to eat what I like, when I like."

“I like my independence." Ingo's tea leaves an ashy taste as he sips it - a floral chamomile bag floats at the bottom of it. "I do not want to be dependent on others. I do not want to be dependent on things out of my control."

"I know that I will have to sometimes." Emmet really looks at him now. "And that is ok. But I still feel the same way.”

Ingo squeezes his mug, before he relaxes his grip. Emmet notices.

Emmet lays his palm on his chest, closing it into a fist near the middle.

“I like being human.” It sounds final, the words like a gavel to wood, the way it echoes in his mind. “I do not want to be a vampire.”

Ingo wants to argue. To convince him that the pros outweigh the insignificant cons, but he does not. No. Usually Ingo is more eloquent with his words, but the fear that rises up in his throat makes his usually well thought out words more brisk, more succinct, more honest as he says the obvious.

“But you are aging.” Ingo says. You are dying, Ingo tries, fails, and a refrains to add.

Ingo hands are smooth, his face without a wrinkle. He looks as the same as he as when he first became a subway boss. He has since he was sent to Hisui. Forever youthful. And Emmet.

Emmet's hands are calloused, wrinkled from years of maintenance at gear station. His hair is thinning and his temples were turning white. His stride not as brisk as it was years ago.

“I am.” Emmet replies. “And I will continue to age.”

Ingo knows Emmet. He is stubborn, just like himself. That is how he is. He knows he will not change his mind. And that makes him clench his jaw, look down at his cup with furrowed brow.

“Ingo.”

Ingo snaps his head up, fear turning to anger that makes him feel sick. He should not be angry, but he is.

“Then you plan to reach your final stop?” Emmet’s smile dims. Ingo continues anyway. “Leave this station?” Without me? Ingo clamps down before he utters the accusation.

“You....you will have me wait here for you to die? And do nothing?!”

And there it is. Ingo barring his greatest fear since he got turned. The thing that has plaguing his mind since he stood at the grave of his old clan leader in Hisui, at the cemetery where his other wardens were laid to rest. What he had realized as he saw time passes by, years of constant goodbyes and tearful farewells.

It was that, no matter how grand his ideals, the simple truth of the matter was that he was utterly powerless to the passage of time.

Ingo doesn't realize that he has stood up until he is already towering over Emmet's seated form. His fangs barred and he suspects his eyes are slits.

And despite that, Emmet looks calm. He looks...sad.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Ingo says softly, deflated as the anger leaves his body. To live on as those around him pass. To see enjoy his life without the people he cares most around him.

Ingo feels arms wrap around him and he wraps trembling arms around Emmet too, his head laying on his shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, simply holding each other, not letting go.

"I'm sorry I never gave you the choice." Emmet finally says. Ingo's hands grip at Emmet's shirt. "We were young. You were dying. And I was desperate. I did not want to lose you..."

Emmet pulls back after that, not all the way, but enough to look into Ingo's face. His fangs have retracted, his eyes normal again. "But those details do not matter now, do they?" Emmet sighs out, that sad smile still there.

"They matter. Of course they matter." Ingo protests, but he doesn't elaborate pass that.

Emmet looks at the floor, thinking about his words and looks at Ingo again before saying, "Everything reaches its final terminal."

"Not me." Ingo says. It comes out bitter.

"Everything does." Emmet repeats, shaking his head. He squeezes Ingo's forearm before he lets go. "I did not give you a choice. but you can choose for yourself now."

His brother’s crows feet, a result from decades worth of smiles, crinkle at the edges as he looks at him. "Just as I choose for myself."

Ingo dwells on those words, on what his brother is offering. A choice and a decision to make. Emmet looks at him and Ingo understands.

With a sigh (a concession, a compromise), Ingo nods and accepts Emmet's answer.

That heaviness Ingo feels is not fully gone from his mind, but it has lightened, the tension of the room dispersing like the morning fog.

Emmet notices, smiles, and sits back down to finish his breakfast. Ingo follows. And then the silence is filled anew with his brother's latest retelling of yet another dealing he had with a rude passenger yesterday.

Ingo listens and they both laugh and talk and all is right and as it should be that morning, in their shared moment of time.

Him and his brother were a two car train, always have been, no matter their differences. And no matter what, he was going to be there with him until his brother's final destination.

And then after that, once that engine has long gone cold, Ingo would decide when his last stop was too.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

What if Eddie had been hidden at Steve's house after Chrissy?

A/N: This was supposed to be just a headcanon, but it sort of just ran away from me. Oops. It's really long, and there's going to be one more part. I may have mixed up a few things, considering I tried to write it all from memory, and I have the memory of a goldfish.

Summary: They sort of messed up with keeping Eddie safe from the public. Never once did they think that if they could find Eddie through Reefer Rick, then other people could, too? I bet Steve thought Eddie would be safer at his house, but he was unsure of saying it. He wasn't sure if it would be smart or not. Where is the last place they would look? Steve Harrington's house. What if Steve did say it outloud?

"Hey, Dustin," Steve said softly. "If we found Eddie through Reefer Rick, then can't other people find him too?"

They had finally found Eddie and were about to leave the boathouse when Steve got the idea.

"Well, where else do you suggest we hide him, Steve?" Dustin asked.

"Where's the last place, if at all, do you think they would look for him?" Steve asked.

"Well, they would never look for him at your place," Dustin laughed, and then he stopped. "Holy shit, they would never look for him at your place."

Dustin scurried back to the boathouse, coming back with a confused metalhead. Dustin went to climb into the passenger's seat but was pulled back by Eddie and pushed to the back seat.

"Parentals sit up front," Eddie replied, and Steve scoffed. "Especially ones who are new to all this shit. So, who's idea was it for me to hide at Harrington's?"

"It was Steve's," Dustin said casually.

Eddie stared at Steve as he drove off, unsure of what to make of him.

"Well, uh, thanks, man," Eddie said.

"No problem," Steve said, coughing awkwardly.

Once he dropped everyone off, it was just him and Eddie on the drive back.

"So, why are you doing this? Putting me up?" Eddie asked.

"Because Dustin looks up to you, man. I couldn't stand looking him in the eye, knowing something happened to you. I hate to say it, but we all know what's going to happen once they find Chrissy in your trailer. Besides, no one should be alone after discovering this shit," Steve said.

"Speaking from experience?" Eddie asked and Steve blushed.

He reached over to turn on the radio. "Cum on Feel the Noize" blasted through his speakers. Steve began beating on his steering wheel, singing loudly. He snapped his fingers at Eddie until Eddie had no choice but to join in. They were laughing almost all the way to Steve’s house. It had gotten a little awkward when Steve, laughing, had placed his hand on Eddie's knee. After Steve invited him into his house, given him some pajamas, he made him another offer.

"Look, you can pick any room, or you can share my bed if you don't want to sleep alone tonight?" Steve asked.

"You trying to take advantage of me, Harrington?" Eddie asked, and Steve stared at him before he realized that he was joking.

"Yeah, no, you'd know if I was taking advantage of you," Steve said and then paused. "Wait, that doesn't sound right."

Eddie laughed, taking the clothes Steve had given him, and began to strip right in front of him. Steve quickly averted his eyes, looking up at the ceiling when Eddie accidentally pulled down his boxers slightly when he started to take off his pants. Eddie had flashed him his ass.

"Whoops!" Eddie cackled. "I swear I'm not trying to make it up to you by putting on a show."

He pulled on the plaid pajama pants and flopped shirtless on Steve’s bed. He rolled around on Steve’s bed, standing up a couple of times to jump on it, and then finally laid on his back as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Seriously?"

Steve rolled his eyes and slipped into the spot beside him. Steve was startled when Eddie pulled him to his chest. His cheek was pressed up against his tattoos.

"I left my teddy bear at home, so a Stevie bear is going to have to do," Eddie said. "Thanks again for letting me stay here."

"It's not a problem," Steve muttered sleepily.

As Steve’s eyes began to flutter close, he felt a hand drift through his hair. Considering the situation, shouldn't this be the other way around? The next morning, Eddie was gone. Steve jumped up, panicking until he heard music coming from downstairs. He walked into the kitchen to find Eddie wearing one of his blue sweaters and cooking breakfast.

"Morning," Steve greeted and Eddie jumped.

"Good morning, my liege. Our son called. He and the others want to come over to talk," Eddie said.

"Really sticking with the whole he's our kid thing, huh?" Steve asked.

"As smart as he is, that kid would stick a fork into a power outlet if he was curious enough and if we weren't there to stop him," Eddie replied.

"That's fucking true," Steve laughed. "I think there has to be some sort of balance when you're as smart as Dustin. You also have to be just as dumb and reckless."

"You might be onto something, Steve," Eddie said with a laugh.

After breakfast, Steve took a shower and then went to get Dustin, Max, and Robin while Eddie started making breakfast for them.

"I do not want to listen to that little shit complain," Eddie had said.

While they ate breakfast, Dustin gave him the rundown of what had happened over the last couple of years. Meanwhile, Robin was leaning against the counter giving Steve a look.

"He's wearing your sweater, cooking breakfast in your house, and sleeping in your bed. It's all very domestic," Robin said.

"Shut up," Steve said, blushing.

"Gasp. Does Steve Harrington have a crush?" Robin whispered.

"Yeah, I think he's cute, but that doesn't mean I have a crush," Steve said, blushing.

"Oh, how the tables have turned," Robin said.

Just then, the sound of police sirens was heard in the distance. Everyone except Eddie raced outside. They watched as the cops drove by. They were heading towards the trailer park. Steve went inside and told Eddie to lay low before he grabbed his keys. After finding out that Fred, Nancy's friend, was killed, she was now involved in trying to find who or what was behind these attacks. While Robin and Nancy went to the library to find out more about Victor Creel, the others, minus Eddie, went to the counselors and then went to break into the school. They learned that Max was Vecna's next victim. They had all gathered in Nancy's basement, and Steve watched as Max paced, worry etched on her face. It made her look older than she was. Steve hated that. At least Lucas was with them now.

"They're definitely going to think Eddie did it after this," Dustin moped.

"Eddie!" Steve said. "I need to check on him. Make sure that Carver didn't get to him. Nance -,"

"Nancy and I got this. Go," Robin said, ushering him out.

Steve paused on his way out the door and turned to Max.

"Don't bite me for this," Steve said and gave her a one-armed hug.

He was surprised when Max hugged him back tightly and then moved back quickly.

"No one saw that," Max said, glaring at them.

Steve unlocked the door to his house, and as soon as he walked in, once again, he was pushed up against the wall. Eddie had him pinned, his full weight against him. One of his knees was slotted in between Steve’s legs. As soon as he realized who it was, Eddie stumbled back.

"Sorry, I don't know why I keep doing that," Eddie said apologetically.

"Really? Cause I'm starting to guess why," Steve grumbled under his breath. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I mean, no offense to you, but your house is kind of -," Eddie said.

"Creepy?" Steve asked.

"I was going to say lonely," Eddie said.

"Well, my parents left me alone so many times I probably left an impression on the place," Steve said sarcastically.

"How many times did they leave you alone?" Eddie asked.

"Too many times to count," Steve replied casually.

"Okay. I'm going to do something that's probably a little intimate for two people just starting to get to know one another," Eddie said.

"Because you practically pressing me to your nipple last night wasn't too intimate?" Steve asked.

"I was using you like a teddy bear, Steven!" Eddie exclaimed. "It was completely innocent."

"Lay it on me, Munson."

Eddie threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"Shh. Just let this happen," Eddie said. "This is called a hug."

"Fuck you, I know what a hug is, jackass," Steve replied, hugging him back.

"The first time I got a hug after my mom died was from my uncle. After she passed, my dad stopped being my dad. He ignored me a lot and became more reckless. I think I reminded him too much of Mama. One evening, he dropped me off at Wayne's and never came back. Hugs eventually became rather important to both of us. It reminded us that we weren't alone," Eddie said.

Steve hugged him tighter and burrowed his face into his neck. They stayed like that for a long time. Steve pulled back with a sigh.

"A student named Fred Benson died in your trailer park last night," Steve said. "And we discovered that Max is Vecna's next victim."

"Shit."

The next morning, Steve resisted the urge to kiss Eddie goodbye as he slipped out of bed. Eddie managed to mumble a goodbye before turning around and hugging the pillow that Steve had been sleeping on. Steve stared at Eddie's back and bit his lip as he felt a fluttering feeling in his chest. Steve fought another urge to slip back into bed and went to Nancy's.

When he walked into the basement, Max was writing furiously at the desk while Lucas and Dustin watched her. It turned out to be letters for everyone in case something went wrong. Steve was touched that he had gotten one but also concerned.

"So, how's your new roommate?" Dustin asked.

"Well, he kicks in his sleep," Steve said without thinking.

"All the rooms in your house and he's sleeping in your bed?" Max asked.

"After what he saw, would you want to be alone?" Steve asked, blushing.

"Oh my God! You like him!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Okay, just because I also like guys doesn't mean that I have to like the guy who I let sleep in my bed, wear my clothes, and who I sometimes let cuddle me. Okay?" Steve said, throwing up his hands.

"Right. Because I do that with all of my guy friends," Dustin grinned.

"Okay, yeah. He's cute, especially when I walked in the other day when a rollie pollie had gotten into the house. He was just crouching there, watching it scuddle along. He wasn't bothering it or anything. He was just watching it living its life, his head tilted to the side with a fond look - Oh my God, I like him!" Steve exclaimed.

"You know, if it had been a spider, it would have been creepy," Max said.

"Seriously, Max?" Lucas asked.

"Hey, I'm cursed. You can't scold me," she replied.

"You want me to do some infiltration? Find out what his situation is," Dustin asked.

"No, no, no. Don't do that," Steve said quickly. "I told you guys about me in my own time. If Eddie is also the same, he should be given the same opportunity to say it in his own time, right?"

"Right," all three coursed.

"You know I would never tell him that you like him, right?" Dustin asked.

"I wouldn't have told you guys about me if I didn't trust you guys to keep a secret," Steve said.

"We want you to be happy, Steve," Dustin said.

"My happiness isn't dependent on whether I'm in a relationship," Steve said. "My family makes me happy too."

"Dude, your parents suck," Lucas said.

"I wasn't talking about them. I was talking about you guys," Steve said, looking at all of them and looking pointedly at Max last.

Max sniffled and threw her arms around Steve, hugging him tightly.

"You assholes didn't see that either," Max said.

"Oh, dear, I think I've gone temporarily blind," Dustin said, waving his hands in front of his face.

"Shit, man, me too," Lucas said.

"Idiots."

Nancy and Robin had come into the room, announcing their plan to go see Victor Creel, where they found out that he survived by music pulling him out of his hallucination. It's what eventually led to them saving Max when she got cursed at Billy's grave. The imagine of her eyes and her floating in the sky would haunt Steve for a long time. Like Lucas, he would be forever grateful for Kate Bush.

"You guys want to meet up at my house this time?" Steve asked. "I have more room."

Max, Dustin, and Lucas shared a knowing look before nodding. Dustin was first through the door and into Eddie's arms. He was still wearing Steve’s blue sweater and a fresh pair of pajama bottoms. His hair was wet from taking a shower. Once Dustin broke from the hug, Steve swept Eddie up into his own arms. He hugged him tightly, smiling when he smelt his own shampoo in Eddie's hair. Steve told Eddie what happened and Eddie broke the hug.

"Shit, Red, you okay? Well, that's a stupid question. Of course, you're not okay. You know what, you will be. You're tough as hell. In fact, you could just scowl at that fucker and he'd melt. If anyone is made of hellfire, it's you," Eddie said.

Max rolled her eyes before throwing her arms him and hugging him too.

"Oh God! I'm blind again!" Dustin exclaimed.

The next morning, Steve was up before Eddie and everyone else. He decided to make breakfast. As he was cooking, Eddie and Max stumbled in. They were carrying paper and a large box of crayons.

"You guys are up early," Steve said.

"So are you," Eddie pointed out.

"I wanted to make breakfast for everyone," Steve replied.

"I couldn't sleep. Some people kept playing music in my ears," Max said as she started to draw.

Max out her earphones back on as Steve flipped on the radio to Eddie's favorite station. Just then, Nancy skidded into the kitchen and sighed in relief at the sight of Max. She plopped down next to her and watched her draw. Steve placed a cup of coffee in front of Eddie, just the way he liked it.

"Thanks, babe," Eddie said absent-mindedly, and Steve blushed.

Max and Nancy raised their eyebrows. They had heard that. Steve leaned over to see what Eddie was drawing and sighed, pinching his nose.

"Eddie, why the hell are you drawing a bunch of dicks?" Steve asked.

"You are what you want to eat, Stevie!" Eddie cackled, rolling the paper into a ball.

"Not in front of the child, Munson!" Steve exclaimed, and Max rolled her eyes while Nancy struggled not to laugh.

Steve opened his mouth to say something else when Eddie shoved the paper ball into his mouth.

"Eat a bunch of dicks, Harrington!" Eddie cackled and frowned when Steve spat it out. "You're supposed to swallow."

"I wish someone told me that before I ate a bunch," Max quipped.

Steve, Eddie, and Nancy all turned their heads to blink rapidly at her. Steve and Eddie both looked like they wanted to rip off their own ears.

"Relax, guys, I'm joking. Jesus, I'm not ready for that," she said.

Steve sighed in relief, clutching his chest. Meanwhile, Eddie was checking his pulse. Nancy rolled her eyes at both of them, but the color was just starting to come back to her own face.

"What are you drawing, Max?" Nancy asked.

Max explained to her that she was drawing what she had seen in Vecna's red soup mind as Steve had called it. Nancy watched her draw, and she eventually pieced together that Max was drawing Victor Creel's house.

"We'll go there after breakfast," Nancy stated.

"Everyone but me again," Eddie said, pouting.

"You're a wanted man, Eddie," Nancy pointed out.

"Yeah, baby," Eddie said, grinning.

"Not like that," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"So, there's no one here who wants me like that?" Eddie asked innocently, batting his eyelashes.

"I mean, I didn't, I didn't mean that no one - KIDS, BREAKFAST!" Steve yelled.

Eddie cackled into his cup of coffee. They heard the sound of feet pounding down the stairs. Dustin and Lucas came running into the kitchen to fix themselves food. Robin came stumbling into the kitchen a moment later, rubbing sleep from her eyes. After they all sat down to eat, a news report came on the radio. Patrick McKee died at Lover's Lake. Steve had been right. They did try to find Eddie at Reefer Rick's. Everyone stared at Eddie, and he sighed.

"Go, I'll clean up," Eddie said.

Everyone started rushing out the door, and that's when Eddie noticed that Steve had forgotten his keys.

"Stevie!" Eddie cried, and Steve skidded to a stop as everyone was leaving. "You forgot something, big boy!"

"Right!"

Steve rushed back into the kitchen, cupped Eddie's face, and kissed him before running out the door.

"You forgot your fucking keys," Eddie muttered in shock.

Meanwhile, Steve was diving into the back of Nancy's station wagon with Dustin. As Nancy was driving away, Steve realized what he did and he hit his forehead.

"What?" Dustin asked.

"I forgot my fucking keys on the counter."

Part 2 (hopefully the final part) is coming soon!

[firstofficerkittycat]

i need to find that fic where kirk and spock were in iowa in the middle of winter and spock insisted on going out to help him run errands and fell in the snow and got hypothermia and kirk ran him a bath to warm him up and then it turned out spock was actually having a great time and hgave himself hypothermia on purpose just to get jim to takw a bath with him because he is a masochist