#the way. Nancy is kinda my muse

[robinsteves]

nancy wheeler against god

[flowercrowngods]

Suggesting/Requesting Eddie having a crush on the valiant knight Steve Dustin goes on about, not realizing it's Steve "the Hair" Harrington and the way he reacts when he realizes they're the same dude. Cue adjustment period.

hi! first of all thank you for the prompt 🥰 i slipped and kinda decided to take your ‘valiant knight Steve’ quite literally and made this a medieval/regency au with knight steve and bard eddie, kinda enemies to lovers. it totally got out of hand, so this is part 1, with all my apologies to your original prompt 🤍🌷

Eddie smiles as the fields and forest that surround Hawkins come into view, kissed by the early afternoon sun with more affection and richness than the city probably deserves. It looks different this time of year, the green seems deeper than he left it, and nostalgia paints him a picture of glory and welcome that would make any traveller linger at the sight. 

He knows it’s only the magic of coming home, the thrill of having been gone so long that he needs to learn his town a-new, and the curiosity of a poet that makes his heart beat faster; but it’s his life’s blood to embrace all of that. So he spurs on his trusty horse to make it home even just a minute sooner. 

The people’s reactions to his arrival come in multitudes, though Eddie can respect the healthy dose of mistrust with which they regard him. He has made a name for himself after all, a bard more than a jester these days, but most people don’t tend to forget the pretty face they chased out of the city on multiple occasions. 

He lifts his head in greeting as he passes the elderly Wheelers as they’re tending to the flowers lining their windows, and grins with glee at both the disapproving scoff and the wary nod he gets in return. 

He’s in good spirits. Great spirits, in fact, the sun shining down on him, welcoming him and lighting familiar paths for him to tread again after years of absence. Hawkins will see his glory, his success, his victory, and it will pale in jealousy and regret. They cannot chase him away this time, not with the title of royal bard and winner of the bardic competition three years in a row. 

If his travels have taught him anything, it’s that he is pettiness acts as a wonderful motivation.

Of course, he shall also see his friends again. One of his saddlebags is half full with their letters that have accumulated over the years, all of which Eddie has kept for reasons of muse and a heart entirely too soft for his own good.

Most of all, though, even more than proving his worth and success to his city and its people, it is curiosity that brings him home. 

Dustin and his friends have been mentioning a most valiant knight, waxing poetic about his glorious deeds and his kinder heart — or, as poetic as they get, which is hardly at all. Which consequently made Eddie write no less than five ballads about the stories they told him, three of which have made it into songs yet, one of which he was made to play in every tavern on his long journey back to Hawkins and to Princess Nancy herself on more than one occasion.

The Knightmærs, as he calls his little collection of poeterey, his pride and joy about a man he has yet to meet. Tales about maidens saved and brothers defeated, hearts stolen and retrieved with the gentlest gestures, and children protected against the evils of night, expecting naught but friendship. And friendship he got. 

If Eddie’s heart picks up yet another notch at the thought of meeting this knight as the familiar city walls tower before him, he allows it for a second before announcing himself to the guards. They looked wary upon his approach and blanch now as they hear his name; Eddie does not hide his laughter this time and preens as he is told to ride on. 

“Oh, Hawkins, old friend,” he mutters under his breath, not even bothering to hide his smile. “You and I shall have so much fun, shan’t we?” 

~*~

He barely makes it to the home he has been sharing with his uncle since the ripe age of twelve with minimal fuss, unsaddling his horse and guiding her to the trough, when he hears it. 

“Eddie!”

Halting in his motions the currycomb, he looks up from the rusty brown that shines red like embers in the sun and spots Dustin racing down the street towards him. 

He lowers the comb and steps around his horse, grinning at his rapidly approaching friend. 

“Why, good day to you, young traveller, what brings you to my humble abode?” 

Dustin doesn’t falter in his approach, doesn’t even slow down, and Eddie braces himself for impact. Years of experience have made him quite practiced in handling tackle-hugs, but Dustin has grown quite a bit since he last saw him, and they both stumble backwards when Dustin’s arms wrap around Eddie in a way that seems to press all air out of his lungs. Eddie laughs as he hugs his friend back with as much ferocity. 

“I’ve missed you! I was writing to you this morning when I remembered you said you’d come this week. I didn’t think it would be today!” 

“I came as soon as I could. Such is the Munson way, or did you forget?” 

Dustin shakes his head and finally lets go, though Eddie yearns for another hug. It’s been too long. The boy has grown. He’s hardly a boy anymore, though he shall always remain as such in Eddie’s heart. He smiles and ruffles Dustin’s locks, realising with a pang that they’re almost of a height now. 

An ache like homesickness settles in his gut and wears on his heart heavily. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, smoothing out the curls he’s put in disarray. “It’s just been too long. And I’ve missed you, too. You’ve grown quite a bit since last we talked.” 

“I have!” And he looks so proud of it, too, preening a little under Eddie’s faux scrutiny, and it’s what makes him pull Dustin against his chest again. 

Eddie continues taking care of his horse, feeding her, combing through her mane, making sure she has as much comfort as he can provide after their long days of travel. Dustin sits on the fence and watches him tend to her, feeding her the occasional apple when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. He hides his smile and pretends not to see. 

God, but he has missed his friend. 

Their twosomeness is rudely and entirely too quickly interrupted by Lord Harrington of all people, who hurries down the street in search of Dustin. 

Eddie never did like the lord and his pompous appearance coupled with his rude personality. He always acted like a prince among men, subject to many a jest in Eddie’s younger days. On one memorable occasion, Eddie managed to steal the lord’s clothes and swap them with his own, making him walk about in linen rags and torn-up trousers. 

Days later, all of his lute strings ripped just as he was getting ready to play at the tavern, and he never messed with Harrington again — even though there was a parcel three days later with new lute strings and his old clothes he had made the lord wear. No note attached to it, because Lords didn’t stoop down to converse with lowly peasants even for revenge. 

So, seeing Harrington now on the very first day of his being back, it sours Eddie’s face and his humour. 

“Why, Lord Harrington,” he speaks before the man can get a word in. “To what do I owe the displeasure of seeing you here? Have you suffered a fall from grace yet, or was it a hit in the head that left you disoriented, bringing you to my humble abode?” 

Harrington frowns at him, though Eddie deems to detect confusion more than distaste. 

And then he has the audacity of not even answering to Eddie’s ruse, simply ignoring him and instead turning around to Dustin. 

“Dustin, Master Clarke is expecting you. I will not cover for you once more.” 

“But—“ 

“Spare me,” Harrington says, hands on his hips now, and Eddie is starting to feel defensive over Dustin. How dare his lordship come and steal his best friend away when he hasn’t even been home for an hour yet? 

Before he can get so much as a word in, however, Dustin is already jumping from his perch on the fence and trudging towards Harrington, rounding the man and leading the way up the hill towards the castle. 

“I’ll come back later, Eddie,” Dustin says over his shoulder, and then he is gone, rounded the corner, out of his sight. 

Harrington, however, lingers. Eddie raises his eyebrows in question and challenge, and the Lord scoffs a little. It’s like he wants to say something — but what could it be? What could Lord Harrington have to say to him, years after they last saw each other? 

He does look stunning, Eddie has to admit with a grudge against his self and his integrity. The golden light of the afternoon sun catches in his hair, likening it to strands of gold that kings and queens pay alchemists across the world to procure. Eddie, for a moment, feels like he has found it in Lord Harrington’s hair and the skin of his face, but he quickly snaps out of it, cutting off that particular train of thought before it can run away form him. 

“I hear you are a bard of great renown these days.” 

The words catch him off his guard, for Eddie was sure that the Lord would not attempt to converse. Yet it seems that propriety still has a tight grip on him. 

Does Harrington like his ballads, his plays, his poetry and sonnets? Has he heard them? Or has he heard of them? Has word travelled across the countries, telling of Eddie the Bard and his brave-hearted muse his soul yearns for and his quill bleeds for?

Eddie is not sure which option thrills him more, but whichever one it is, it makes him smile, feeling quite bashful and yet proud. 

“So you hear,” he says, approaching the stiff Lord. “What exactly is it that you hear, my Lord?” 

He swallows, following Eddie’s steps with his eyes, turning his head when the bard circles him slowly. “I hear you sing of beasts slain and brothers banished, a knight at the heart of your ballads.” Eddie smiles at that, knowing that Harrington has at least heard of two of his Knightmærs. I hear it sounds like mockery, the knight but an object of your hyperbolic fascination and flowery imagination, his pain and bravery nothing to you.” 

He stops dead in his tracks, his feet planted right before Harrington. The Lord looks like he is taking personal offence to his works, and it irritates the bard. 

“And what, Lord Harrington, would you know of fascination, pain and bravery? I cannot imagine you have faced a lot of hardship in your life, and the only acts of bravery you had to chance upon were mislead in the name of false honour.” 

“False honour,” Harrington repeats, his words like poison, sharp and dangerous as the sword’s blade at his hip. “You would know something about that, I imagine, telling stories of which you have no idea. Immortalising glory where there should be sympathy.” 

Eddie studies him, the frown between his brows, the hard line of his jaw, set and calmed to keep more words from spilling. Imposing, this Lord is. A sight for sore eyes even in his  purely misplaced anger. 

Eddie huffs, his eyes travelling between the Lord’s where they are standing so impossibly close. 

“Sympathy,” he repeats. “Nobody, my Lord, wants a ballad of sympathy. It is glory that the people seek!” He steps back from Harrington, gesturing with his arms as he dramatically recounts the lessons he has learned over the years, passionate for his craft. “Glory, heroism, heartbreak and love! Yearning and longing and deeds of an aching heart, that is what the people want to hear. That is what deserves to be immortalised in art, in poetry, in song! I shall forgive you for being so painfully unaware of this, my Lord, but I shall not stand to be in your company much longer, calling my work lacking or a mockery when it is borne out of nothing but loyalty, fascination and love.” 

They are close again, because Harrington did not step back when Eddie approached him once more, his feet planted like a tree, fierce and strong and unbudging. 

It is intoxicating, though Eddie blames half of it on the passion and the rage, on the bravery that possessed him to send the Lord away, or the fierceness with which he came to his muse’s defence. 

Harrington swallows again, his eyes wandering over Eddie’s face once more, lingering at his lips, both their jaws set in determination and perhaps a sudden tension.  

“Forgive me for insulting you with my company,” he speaks at last, his voice nothing but a rasp. “You will find there is an irony to your words soon. I shall not rob you of that discovery. I ask you do not take it out on our mutual friends when you do, Munson.” 

And with one last glance, Harrington turns on his heel and hurries up the hill, too, leaving Eddie puzzled and quite dazed upon the lingering warmth of their close proximity. 

When did Harrington become so handsome? There was a fire in his eyes that Eddie got to witness for just the blink of an eye, but he wonders where that comes from, what it means, and what other secrets he holds. 

Perhaps, if he cannot meet his muse, the knight Dustin has only ever referred to as Steve, Harrington might serve to inspire a ballad or two himself.

~*~

Harrington catches his eyes on more than one occasion over the next days. Eddie is invited to the castle to play for Princess Chrissy, though she greets him like an old friend and makes him sit close to her at the banquet. Right beside Harrington, who merely nods at Eddie, his fists clenched as Chrissy asks the bard about one of his ballads — the one about the valiant knight slaying a horde of monsters to keep the kingdom’s children safe. 

The Lord must really hate Eddie’s work. It fills him with spiteful glee, for some reason, and he makes sure to play and recite all of his Knightmærs that night. Harrington excuses himself when Eddie hasn’t even made it halfway through his songs, and he doesn’t return that night. 

He takes personal offence now and vows to make the Lord’s life as difficult as he can. 

But still there is no sign of Steve. 

Eddie is starting to get frustrated. 

He was supposed to be here, stand tall and proud with a smile on his face upon seeing Eddie, sweep him off his feet, make him swoon, dare Eddie to fall in love with the face long after the name. 

His mood is sour, and only sours further when Harrington rounds the corner and stumbles upon Eddie who is tuning his lute for tonight’s banquet. The annual royal tournament is set for the next morning, so everyone is in a good mood. 

Well, everyone except Eddie. And Lord Harrington, by the look on his face. 

“Munson,” he says, straightening before he bows his head in greeting. “Forgive me, I was looking for some quiet. I shall look somewhere else.” 

And, somehow, that is enough to snap his patience that was already wearing thin. “Why can you not stand being in my presence, sir?” he asks, rising from his seat. “Does it disgust you so to be around mere peasants?” 

Harrington looks taken aback, shock and confusion clear on his face before a frown takes its place and washes away all further emotions. 

“It is not your presence that bothers me, nor the nature of your birth.”

“And yet you leave every time I so much as strum a tune, Lord Harrington, ready to throw both caution and propriety to the winds. Leaving me to wonder what it is that I have done to deserve such treatment.” 

Eddie finds himself walking closer and closer to the Lord, coming to a stop not one foot before him. He is drawn in by his presence, his charm as alluring as his cold silence. Everything about Lord Harrington intrigues him, horrified as he is to admit it. But with Steve not around to catch his eye and captivate his heart and mind alike, he simply has to find inspiration elsewhere. 

And the way Harrington’s face is taken over by a dangerous expression is the most inspiring, alluring thing he has seen in a while, even though it is directed at him. 

“How can you have the audacity to feign confusion over my disdain, bard,” he hisses, and Eddie shivers slightly. Harrington does not even have the sense to step back, staying right where he is, so close, so improper. “How can you pretend it is not my life you have taken and made your own, singing songs and telling stories, making into nothing but a jaunty tale recited by drunkards with no regard to the blood it was written in.” 

Eddie blinks, not quite catching up with the point Harrington is making. 

“What—“ 

“You sing your ballads, your histories, your Knightmærs like you know what they mean. Making a mockery of me, stealing from me every chance to tell my tale in my own voice, in my own tempo. Entire kingdoms will know before I will have had the chance to wake up from a nightmare, and they sing about it, sing about pain they did not have the misfortune to suffer, sing with a smile, with booming voices because you make them. And yet the only one without a voice remains the one who slew the beast.” 

Lord Harrington speaks to him as though he takes offence at the content of Eddie’s ballads, offence at the reality of their background. But what right does he have to take offence when his songs are based on heroic deeds, recounted to him first hand by his very best friend. What right does Harrington have to question the truth behind them? 

“If it is a matter of truth that concerns you, let me reassure you, my Lord, that all of my ballads are based on true events. I ask that you do not call me a liar, no matter how great your dislike of my craft.” 

“It is not a liar that I call you, but rather a thief.” 

Eddie gasps, offended now. “What do you suggest I have stolen, then?” 

“A person’s right to their own story. To their own nightmares. A man's right to flee from the horrors he lived through, acquainting every tavern in this kingdom and the next with his horrific and desperate deeds.” 

“How dare you call his deeds horrific,” Eddie hisses now, feeling protective over his knight. “How dare you accuse me of ill intent when every word out of my quill is written with nothing but love and admiration.” 

“For whom?” Harrington challenges, disdainful and cold. “Only for yourself, your vanity, your overgrown sense of artistic ambition.”

“No,” he shakes his head, hands clenched into fists as he finds himself incredibly close to Lord Harrington, their faces only inches apart now. “It is love for this person I have never met, whom my dear friend has told me about. A man who has kept me awake at night as I was pouring over letter after letter, hoping he should be well. It is a love so strong it has to be turned into art, into song, love that should be sung in every voice of the kingdom.” He scoffs, stepping back to catch his breath. “I do not expect you to know such a love when all you have in your cold heart is disdain for all things beautiful. You would never know bravery if it looked you in the face, you would never know love if it was the very fabric that makes this world. It would slip through your fingers, my Lord, for you would be busy yearning for the day your life found its meaning.” 

He is seething, heaving breaths, out of control over the words tumbling out of his mouth. Insulted in his pride and his muse, offended, hurt. Confused, still, as to why the Lord hates his songs with such vigour. 

“Is that your opinion of me?” Harrington whispers, though even in that toneless voice of his lies so much that Eddie cannot begin to decipher. 

“Yes,” he whispers back, the fight leaving him now, the very air sucked out of the room they share. “I believe I made that clear just now.” 

Harrington takes one step closer once more, but Eddie does not budge. 

“Then I suggest you forget that knight of yours,” he says, quiet and final. “And forget the idea you have of love. To love someone is not to turn his nightmares into song. To love someone is not to look him in the eye and insult his very existence even further. You love yourself, your craft, your mind. But you do not love him. You would not recognise him if he shared the same breath as you.” 

Eddie huffs, just barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “And what makes you so sure of that, Lord Harrington?” 

A smile twitches his lips, though there is no mirth, no glee. “You have just proven it to me, Mr Munson.” He takes a step back and evades Eddie’s eyes. “I believe you should return to the fest now. Good night.” 

And with that, he turns around and leaves. 

Eddie finds himself rooted to the ground, air returning to the room now but still he is unable to catch his breath, staring ahead as he is. 

Words echo in his mind as the picture paints itself and a horrible, horrible realisation dawns on him. 

You will find there is an irony to your words soon. 

How can you pretend it is not my life you have taken and made your own?

But you do not love him. You would not recognise him if he shared the same breath as you.

You have just proven it to me, Mr Munson.

But… There is no way. There is no way that Dustin’s friend, Dustin’s knight and protector, his saviour, Steve, should be the same as Lord Harrington with his careful, quiet, disdainfully quirked eyebrow. 

Except, Lord Harrington collected Dustin from Eddie’s home, speaking with him in a tone filled with such familiarity, they cannot be mistaken as anything but friends. 

And Lord Harrington had listened with such rapt attention when Eddie played his jaunty tunes and the well-known classics at the banquet days ago, looking like he enjoyed Eddie’s play. His face had only soured when people started requesting his newer original songs, his fists clenched upon the opening chords of The Knight and His Nightmare, leaving the hall altogether when people requested more. 

You sing your ballads, your histories, your Knightmærs like you know what they mean. 

Eddie’s heart falls when he realises what he has done. How blind he was to the frowns and the tension, how deaf to the hints and insinuations, how ignorant he was of the pain he inflicted on Lord Harrington. Lord Steven Harrington. Steve. 

His Steve. And yet not his at all.

He falls back onto the bench, dazed, as the weight of his realisation settles inside his chest. 

onwards to part 2

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Promptober: Day Nine

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 667 words.

Steve’s usually clean and tidy kitchen island was now a riot of kids and pumpkin innards. 

No one cared, not really, especially Steve. His parents weren’t home, as usual, and the kids were having fun. Everyone was, with Nancy helping El cut out triangles from her lopsided squash, Johnathan smiling behind the camera he was holding to capture the chaos of it all. 

Eddie had seeds in his hair, stringy pieces of pumpkins hanging from his curls that Max kept launching at him from across the room. Will and Mike were silently carving, sneaking glances at each other’s designs, a competition between the two of them that no one else was really privy to.

Robin was elbow deep inside her own pumpkin, a permanent marker bitten between her teeth and she glared at Lucas as he tried to steal it from her, declaring helplessly that his own pumpkin's teeth weren’t crooked enough.  

Dustin was trailing at your side, crowding you at the stove as he waited impatiently for the hot chocolate you were making to start simmering. He was peering over your shoulder, eyes on the bag of marshmallows you were yet to open and before he could reach out for them, Steve batted at his hand, frowning.

“Jesus, Henderson, let the girl breathe.”

You laughed, uncaring at the way the younger boy was plastered to your side but Steve shooed him as Dustin argued back, mumbling under his breath about being hungry. 

But Steve got what he wanted, sent the boy away to sit by Lucas again, the two of them taking great joy in stabbing what looked to be a bent screwdriver into their pumpkins flesh. 

“Your kitchen looks like a murder scene,” you quipped, smiling when Steve shrugged, moving to stand behind you, arms around your waist. 

“S’fine,” he mumbled, “they’re not outside hunting demon dogs and finding interdimensional gates, at least.” Steve kissed your cheek, crowding round you to slide his lips over the corner of your own. 

“What a boring Halloween for them,” you mused, laughing when Steve tugged at your chin impatiently, fingers guiding you towards him. “What? You want something, Harrington?”

Steve pushed his nose to your hair, breathed in cinnamon and cocoa powder, the leftover smell of the rainstorm you’d all been caught in. He stole another kiss, one to your temple, another underneath your ear. His hands curled into the soft of your sweater, holding you close. 

Someone behind you both gagged. It sounded like Mike but you knew well enough that it could’ve been Robin. Or Eddie. Maybe Max.

Any of them really. 

Which is why neither of you bothered to look, Steve simply just holding a middle finger salute over his shoulder and Max gasped, acting scandalised, all faux shock. 

“I’m telling my mom, Steven.”

It made Steve snort, turning around with his head leaning against your own as you stirred in more heavy cream and chopped chocolate, smile on your face because you knew where this was going. 

“Snitches get stitches, Maxine,” Steve goaded, “in fact, snitches don’t get a ride home.”

She threw a glob of pumpkin guts at him, grinned victorious when it hit wetly against his back and then? Well, all hell broke loose. 

Eddie threw the next handful, worse than the younger kids when it came to creating carnage and soon Steve’s kitchen was lined with pumpkin seeds and the stringy insides of them. You were bent over your pot of chocolate, protecting it from flying squash and no one stopped until Nancy stood on a chair and yelled for a ceasefire. 

The pumpkins were left on Steve’s table, half carved, some deformed, some entirely decimated. Lucas’ was missing half its face and Will’s intricate pattern was left unfinished, goop in his hair that El was trying to comb out. 

The hot chocolate was burnt, seeds floating in the mixture you’d spend too long on and you were glaring at Eddie as if it were his fault.

And well, it kinda was. 

[that-one-fandom-girl]

I edited this post from what it said before to a more accurate post; I was kind of off-base about some things.

All the different people I could find in the trailer that looked like they had something to do with the plot-and my musings about them mixed with some of Arglefumph's thoughts from his reveal reaction.

The first guy feels like he's more the person who brings Nancy into the mystery, like he's her superior in the case like Sophia Leporace from VEN. And the long haired blonde {who I think Arglefumph said was named Adela} is the owner of the necklace. The rest though...are they all suspects? 'Cause that's a LOT of suspects :D.

I feel like we befriend Radek, since there's a clip of only Nancy and him sleuthing in the...prisons? dungeons? And he seems to know some things that would endanger him and make the culprit(s) come after him, since he's the one who says that "Monsters in Prague sometimes don't look it", or something to that effect.

The first older guy doesn't have much screen-time, but I think he's the one talking about the history of Prague in the beginning and then he's talking about the Alchemists back in the day being very clever; so, he's an historian?

Oskar, the only clips I've seen of him so far have been of him on the phone or angry, sooooooo...is he suspect #1? 'Cause the clips HER puts out of specific characters does help set the mood of each character, right? Plus, he kinda seems like a Thanos-from-LIE type character in that you don't wanna mess with him. Argle said he's the main museum guy, and the fact that he's somewhat cranky and always on the phone + I'm sure we'll have to snoop in his desk {probably the one we saw in the trailer} at some point; is he the one in the black market?

Lady with the flowers looks like the owner of the coffee shop, and since Adela and her seem to get into a fight; is it a case where one of the people who bring us into the case is the bad guy and are trying to cover their tracks {but what would Adela have to gain?}, or is Coffee-Shop-Lady suspect #2 and is one of the most suspicious suspects?

The second older guy seems like a tourist guide/business owner who deals with tourists a lot, and that's most all of what I gleaned from his very short screen-time.

Elka also seems to be friendlier than quite a few of the other characters in the trailer, she has a laptop with a whole lotta stickers from Nancy's cases, we've learned more about her than really any of the others, and she's the one telling us to be careful online, so my speculations of her are: she's a fan of Nancy's and so she wants to be friends with us/help us? Maybe we team up with her {and/or Radek} {and possibly Ned if he's in the game physically at all?} unofficially to figure out who's stolen the gems? After all, she's the one who's most associated with technology {which also makes her more of a suspect, lol}.

And the last lady-the Lillian Weiss lookalike. I just found out she's the jewelry store owner, and doesn't seem the happiest about Nancy asking questions about the stolen gems, although that could be just her protecting her job? In any case, this lady from the trailer seems kinda cranky and implied that everything with the necklace was fine when everyone else was sure the gems were fake, so is she hiding something about the case? Is she the one in the black market?

Honestly, I don't know anything about these characters other than what's been officially stated, so this is all just theory, but what about you guys? What do you think of each of the characters? Do you agree with me on some things, or do you have way different ideas of these guys?

[selfless-desires]

UPDATED CHARACTER LIST ,

decided to make a seperate post for all the character I write / would be interested in writing from different fandoms since there are a LOT and updating carrds take some time ... this document will be updated whenever needed . always open to new prompts being sent my way , and my DMs are open for questions or further discussions when it comes to threads / replies / characters ! some of these characters may be used as crossovers, such as the Stranger Things / Texas Chainsaw Massacre appearing in the realms of Dead by Daylight (ask if interested) . COLOR / SYMBOL MEANINGS , red : primary muse (experienced) blue : secondary muse (have some experience) black : new (never wrote them before) ★ : eager to write / in the mood ☆ : kinda in the mood / willing

STRANGER THINGS , ➳ Steve Harrington - ★ ➳ Eddie Munson - ☆ ➳ Billy Hargrove ➳ Jonathan Byers ➳ Nancy Wheeler ➳ Tommy Hagan ➳ Jason Carver - ☆ ➳ Demogorgon - ☆ ➳ Henry Creel (Vecna)

TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE , ➳ Leland (River) McKinney - ☆ ➳ Johnny Slaughter - ☆ ➳ Connie Taylor ➳ Sonny Williams ➳ Danny Gaines ➳ Sissy Slaughter ➳ Bubba Sawyer

DEAD BY DAYLIGHT , ➳ Frank Morrison (Legion) - ★ ➳ Danny Johnson (Ghostface) - ★ ➳ Ji-woon Hak (Trickster) ➳ Evan MacMillan (Trapper) - ☆ ➳ Philip Ojomo (Wraith) ➳ Feng Min ➳ Jake Park - ☆ ➳ Renato Lyra - ☆

OVERWATCH , ➳ Lúcio Correia dos Santos - ★ ➳ Ramattra - ★ ➳ Hana Song (D.Va) - ★ ➳ John Francis "Jack" Morrison (Soldier 76) ➳ Sloan Cameron (Venture) - ☆ ➳ Jean-Baptiste Augustin (Baptiste) - ★ ➳ Niran PruksaManee (Lifeweaver) - ☆ ➳ Mauga Malosi - ☆ ➳ Kiriko Kamori ➳ Hanzo Shimada ➳ Genji Shimada ➳ Cole Cassidy ➳ Bastion

RESIDENT EVIL , ➳ Leon Scott Kennedy - ☆ ➳ Carlos Oliveira ➳ HUNK

DETROIT BECOME HUMAN , ➳ Connor RK800 ➳ Hank Anderson ➳ Marcus RK200 ➳ Gavin Reed ➳ Elijah Kamski ➳ 'Nines' RK900

OTHER FANDOMS , ➳ Michael Munroe (Until Dawn) ➳ Matthew Taylor (Until Dawn) ➳ Montgomery Gator (FNAF) ➳ Foxy (FNAF) ➳ Crewmate (Lethal Company) - ☆ ➳ Bracken (Lethal Company)

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS , ➳ Richard Collins (TCM/ST/DBD) ➳ Nathaniel Brooke Collins (TCM/ST/DBD) ➳ Tyler Moore (ST/DBD)

. . .

[transpunkhell]

fuck it just posting my jargyle fic here

i dont have Ao3 so bear with me okay :,) also didnt realize how long this ended up sorry

fluff, confessions, little bit of a j*ncy breakup scene, being gay, LOTS of bong rips and endless weed ;)

--

Jonathan sat on the side of his bed. The moonlight cast a blue hue into his room, lighting his bedside in a melancholy manner. His face rested in his hands, slightly clammy from overthinking and the anxieties that followed. He should have been relieved, he thought to himself, but all he could do was repeat the scene over and over again in his head.

He had wanted to break up with Nancy. College was something he wanted to pursue, and he began to realize after the move to California that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work anymore. He just wasn't expecting Nancy to dump him first. 

Except, he wasn't really being dumped, Jonathan rationalized to himself.

"It's not you, Jonathan, it's...girls. I think I'm more into girls. I'm sorry."

Those words looped endlessly in his mind.

It's not like he was disappointed. Again, he was sort of relieved that he didn't have to be the one to do it. It's just that the more he thought about why he fell out of love with Nancy, the more he struggled to understand exactly what his feelings were.

Jonathan dragged his hands down his face and groaned. He really didn't know how to sort his thoughts on this, and it fucking sucked. He didn't need this right now. He needed something else. He needed-

A familiar honking could be heard from outside.  Immediately Jonathan perked up, donned his overshirt, and ran outside. He probably should've been quieter, considering it was almost 2 in the morning, but the persistent honks had probably woken up the entire street at that point.

Argyle continued to smash the horn even as Jonathan was sprinting towards the ever-so-familiar vehicle. He only stopped once his friend had hopped in and shut the door.

"Why do you have the van dude? Aren't you off right now?" Jonathan asked, a little out of breath from that sprint. It was somewhat normal for Argyle to show up at the house at night, but it wasn't normal at all for him to be so rowdy about it when everyone else was asleep. He was a bit of a klutz, sure, but he didn't usually go out of his way to be annoying. Maybe it was urgent, Jonathan mused to himself, though he sort of wished this could've waited until the morning. 

"I forgot to turn in the keys," Argyle replied, playing with the keychains dangling from the ignition. "Plus, since you're kind of going through some shit right now, I brought you a surprise..."

Argyle reached toward the middle seats, but he seemed to struggle a little. Miffed, he cursed to himself under his breath, unbuckled his seatbelt, then twisted over to reach deeper toward the floor of the van to pull out a brand-new bong and grinder.

Jonathan was too surprised to speak, but Argyle continued. "So uh, I was gonna save this for your birthday, but I think you kinda need it now, so I'm driving us to my favorite place so we can take rips 'till the sun comes up. That cool?"

Jonathan put his hand to his forehead and smiled. "You're my best friend, man," he said. "The best."

--

Jonathan choked on milky-white smoke, struggling to breathe normally after taking such a big rip. He handed the bong to Argyle, who took it like he was impatient for it. He reached over to grab the lighter from Jonathan as well, and went to town. The brief moments of the lighter in action remained their only immediate light source, allowing them to see the smoke rise up the bong's neck for mere milliseconds. He held the hit in for a bit, then let it all out in a chaotic coughing fit. Trying to recover still even after passing the bong back to Jonathan, he laid down to look at the stars.

They both rested on top of the van. Argyle had parked on the shoulder of a cliffside road overlooking all of Lenora Hills. The houses, all nestled in the valley, were scarcely lit to vaguely match the starlit sky above them. It was a mildly-pretty sight as is, but it was a gorgeous scene for a couple of stoners. 

Unfortunately for Jonathan, his mind could only race. The quiet gave him too much room to think about what had happened earlier, and the high only seemed to make the thoughts more intense.

Nancy coming out to him changed something, something in the way he thought about himself. The conversation repeated itself in his mind. 

"How did you know?"

"...Know that I'm into girls?" 

"Y-yeah."

It was insightful, learning how Nancy found out about herself. During the conversation, Jonathan focused mainly on Nancy's feelings and what she had to say. Even if they weren't together, he still loved her as a close friend and confidante. Understanding her and being there for her was important to him, more important than anything else in that moment. 

But it was the way she described it, falling in love while queer. It was hard to recognize it at first, she said, but once she did, she knew she couldn't deny it. Wanting to spend all of your time with that one person, feeling butterflies when they touch you or hang a little too close for "just friends," thinking about what it would be like to tell them that you like them, and wondering the odds on them liking you back-

"Dude, are you even listening?"

Jonathan snapped out of it and looked at his friend, who was sitting back upright. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I was a little lost in thought." 

"Spill it, man," Argyle punched him playfully. "Whatcha got?"

Jonathan put his hand through his hair and moved it down to nervously push on the back of his neck. He couldn't even figure out his feelings while sober, so now his words came out scrambled and disorganized.

"I think, uh, Nancy breaking up with me was good for me and all," he started. "I mean, um, I don't know. It was a good reason. Not that there really needs to be a, uh, reason, especially since I was gonna break up with her anyways. I don't know."

Jonathan lost his train of thought, but it's not like it mattered; he wasn't really saying much of anything, and he probably lost Argyle's attention way before. He took a few seconds to compose his thoughts.

"I think I've got a lot of new feelings to sort out," he sighed.

Argyle got that. He pat Jonathan on the back, causing his heart to flutter. His hand felt familiar, in a way that comforted him like a hug. 

"Like...what?" Argyle asked, his stoner drawl more obvious than usual. His presence brought Jonathan's entire anxious being to a gradual rest. He knew he was safe to speak his mind here, so he took a breath and went on. 

"I've been kind of looking into how I feel about other people. Romantically." 

He paused to check if Argyle was still listening, maybe hoping that he wasn't. He was. In fact, their eyes met in a way that convinced Jonathan that he was getting Argyle's full attention. The bong rips were catching up to him—to both of them, really. Both of their tolerances had gone up from smoking pretty much every day, but the hits from the bong had permeated their bloodstreams in a way that the joints they shared in the past just couldn't compare to. It made Jonathan's next choice of words feel a little more emotionally weighted than he had wanted.

"I'm realizing I might not be so, uh, straight, either." Jonathan sighed and twiddled his thumbs. It should have felt good to confide in his best friend like this; he already knew Argyle was supportive of everything, especially being queer, but his anxiety sunk its fangs into him.

Worry physically manifested in his stomach, shooting toward his body's extremities and forcing the palms of his hands to sweat. His skin itched in anticipation of what Argyle would say next. He worried he was admitting this too openly, that he might've accidentally implied something bad, or even-

"Brooooo." Argyle interrupted his racing thoughts. A sweet smile appeared on his face as he continued. "I was literally thinking the exact same thing."

Jonathan straightened up. The haze in his brain made it hard for him to comprehend it entirely, but the butterflies he felt nearly made him vomit now. 

"Like uh, being gay and stuff," Argyle continued. "Maybe not gay, but like...bisexual or something. I think I definitely like dudes and dudettes all the same, man...but maybe I like dudes just a li'l more."

Jonathan's mind tried to pull back instances where Argyle seemed interested in other guys. He couldn't come up with anything. Not that he needed to, of course, as Argyle's feelings were often an enigma to him, but he couldn't help but try and look for the hints. Any moments of potential yearning, specific discussions, whatever, were being sorted in his mind at light speed.

"How did you find out?" Jonathan asked without thinking. Immediate regret.

"Trust me man, you don't wanna know," Argyle coughed, having just taken another hit.

"Not true," Jonathan countered. "You're my best friend, dude. I'm really grateful for everything you do for me. I'll do the same for you."

Argyle ran his fingers through his long hair, trying to get his words together. In a moment that felt almost out of character to Jonathan, he saw worry on his best friend's face. He reassured Argyle by wrapping his arm around him. Argyle leaned in, resting his head on Jonathan's shoulder. 

The physical contact felt exciting. That moment felt like it could have lasted forever. Argyle was warm, a nice contrast to the nighttime chill, and it only made him want to hold him closer. For a while, even. Jonathan mused ideas of them holding each other in ways they hadn't before, and he found himself yearning for it all.

Fuck, he thought to himself.

The realization hit Jonathan like a truck. His conversation with Nancy popped up in his mind again, as if the thought itself was hammering the nails in the coffin of his heterosexuality. He had a crush on his best friend, and he was crushing hard. Putting those words to his feelings brought a wave of dread over him.

Jonathan tried to reach back in his memories to when this crush started. Maybe it was the time they spent on the road, with the endless stretches of brown and gray in the landscape giving way to loneliness. He reached earlier to when they started smoking together, or when he first met Argyle at Surfer Boy Pizza. He remembered the beating of his heart, the shakiness of his breath, the thoughts that flooded his mind every single time they were together.

He recognized how obvious it was the whole time now, and cursed himself for the new Byers pattern of falling in love with your best friend. He ran through feelings of guilt over whether he was crushing while he and Nancy were still a thing. Was it even rational to feel guilty over this, even after they broke up? Jonathan's anxiety fell into a catastrophic spiral, enhanced by the circular thinking of a heady high.

Argyle cut through Jonathan's thoughts again, but this time it stopped him in his tracks entirely.

"It was kind of you, man."

Three seconds of silence passed as Jonathan tried to pull himself together.

"Wh-what?" he uttered, absolutely dumbfounded. His grip on Argyle tightened a little. 

"Yeah man, I think you're really neat. More than neat, even. Magical." Argyle held the bong close, almost like a stuffed animal. "Like, when we smoke, I want to feel that kinda vibe forever, man."

Jonathan forgot about his breathing. He thought, Did Argyle just say he likes me? Did he just call me...magical? 

He chuckled awkwardly. He instinctually dropped his head to hide his blushing cheeks, but it wasn't like Argyle could really see it in the dark.

Argyle moved away from Jonathan. He anchored his hand in his hair, body language stiffening with visible anxiety. "That's probably, totally a weird thing to say, I know. Sorry dude."

Jonathan's head shot back up, and he responded immediately. "It's not, man. I swear. I mean..."

The high clouded his better judgement, and all he could focus on was the realization that he liked his best friend. He really liked Argyle. He didn't know what he wanted, or what was appropriate to do, but it didn't seem to matter. His impulses decided to take the plunge.

"I think you're kind of..." Jonathan hesitated. "...magical, too."

Argyle's eyes widened. Jonathan could really see his face light up this time, even in the dark, and it made his heart swell with joyful affection.

"You mean that?" Argyle asked.

"I really do."

Jonathan placed a hand on Argyle's thigh. A jolt of excitement—and maybe a little bit of panic—shot through his body. He was a little bolder now than what he was used to, but he didn't care anymore.

"Are we, like, gay for each other?" Argyle blurted. 

They both laughed it off. To Jonathan, it felt like a dream with how easy this was actually going. He thought he was being so awkward right now, but it was with his best friend, so none of that mattered. All that he needed right now was to keep Argyle close.

Argyle placed the bong down and rested his head on Jonathan's lap. The extended physical contact was thrilling now. He brought his hands down to gently comb through Argyle's long hair.

"Hold my hands, man," Argyle mumbled. "I just gotta see if it feels right."

"Okay, man!" Jonathan giggled and intertwined his fingers with Argyle's. His hands were big and cozy, warming up Jonathan's cold palms immediately.

Argyle chuckled to himself, and spoke up again. "Yeaaaahhh," he squeezed Jonathan's hands. "This totally feels right."

Jonathan couldn't get his grin off his face, even if he tried. As they remained close, he took in the ambience of Lenora Hills early in the morning. The first birdsong of the day echoed through the trees. Gentle winds moved past the couple and pushed their hair over their faces. A few more houses in the valley had begun to flick their lights on. The sound of his own breathing, almost in sync with Argyle's, brought a slow rhythm to the moment. 

Finally, at the cliffside, with his newfound love, his mind was at peace. 

[collecting-stories]

Driving Lessons - Steve Harrington

Request: i had something in mind with steve teaching reader how to drive, and she's all clumsy and very very bad at driving. Steve is kinda scared to die (i'm exaggerating) but tries to be calm and have patience with her and is all cute.

A/N: I’m so so sorry that this took so long to post. It’s just been kinda crazy at my house lately and it’s been a rough month!

 Stranger Things Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“I can’t believe they gave you a permit,” Steve mused, holding the piece of paper in his hands and examining it, as if you’d somehow managed to doctor the driving permit.  

“Well they did,” you replied, plucking the paper from his hands and folding it back up into your bag, “so, what’d you say? Wanna help me clock driving hours?”  

“Don’t you need an adult to do that?” He asked, skeptical and maybe a little reluctant to actually get in a car with you behind the wheel.

“I’m looking at one, you just turned 18 last week, meaning you are uniquely qualified to assist me in gaining driving experience.” You replied, smiling at him as innocently as you could muster.  

“What about Nancy’s mom? I thought she was doing some driving lessons on the side?” He asked. He’d driven over to your house in his parents station wagon and now he stood there watching you eyeing up the car, knowing it wouldn’t be long before you were in the driver’s seat. He would love to say that he could resist you a little bit better than that but he knew it wasn’t true. If you wanted to test drive around the neighborhood, who was he to stop you?  

“Why would I ask Nancy’s mom when I have you right here?” You asked, “now are we going or what?”

“Right now?” Steve clarified, looking momentarily concerned that you wanted to drive around Hawkins and not just go to some empty mall lot and practice.  

You shrugged, “why not?” You were eager to get out on the road and practice. Your birthday was later than all your friends, the last to turn 16 and so the last to get your permit. Watching Nancy drive and Barb get a car was frustrating, especially when you were stuck getting rides all the time. Steve was always happy to offer and you doubted your boyfriend would ever actually complain about having to take you somewhere but you still wanted to drive.  

“I don’t really know if I’m the right person to be like, giving you driving lessons. I mean, I’ve only been driving like...two years.” Steve replied, hands in his pockets as he looked away from you. He was trying not to flat out say no but there was no way he really wanted to get in a car with you behind the wheel. You might’ve gotten your permit but he’d seen you drive in the junkyard and he knew for a fact that you were a little manic in the driver’s seat.  

“It’ll be fine Steve, please?” You asked; begging was not above you.  

It didn’t take much convincing, despite his hesitancy, for Steve to agree to giving you a driving lesson. Mostly because it was you and while he maybe, definitely, didn’t trust you behind the wheel of a car, he trusted you in general. A sentiment he wanted to retract the moment he was actually in the car with you.  

You weren’t a bad driver, per say, but you were a fast driver. You took the curb without braking, almost missed three stop signs, and ran a red light in front of the supermarket. Steve alternated between gripping the handle on the door and sinking down in his seat so that anyone driving or walking passed might not see him in the car with you. Every time he felt the car accelerate, he tensed, his whole body seizing up as he tried not to audibly gasp.  

“You sound like my mom,” you laughed as you rolled to a stop at an intersection, waiting for your turn. Steve was sitting up straight, back pressed to the vinyl seat of his parent’s station wagon, the only noise in his ears was the sound of his father explaining how the insurance worked if someone other than he or Steve’s mom drove the car.  

“Excuse me for wanting to actually make it back to my house in one piece.” Steve replied, the high-pitched trill in his voice nearly spot on to his mother’s.  

When you finally arrived back at your house and parked the car under the port he practically threw himself out of the car, breathing a deep sigh of relief. You rolled your eyes, cutting the engine after putting the car in park and unbuckling your own seat belt.  

“You’re so dramatic,” you laughed, getting out of the car.  

“Dramatic? You practically killed me on the drive over here!” He exclaimed, running his hand through his hair.  

“I didn’t kill you,” you replied, “besides, you had your seat belt on so tight it probably cut off all the circulation in your body.”  

“I had to! You drive like a maniac! I love you but the next time I get in a car with you, you’ll be the passenger.”

“You’re banning me from driving?” You laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion. There was no way that Steve would actually be sucessful in banning you from driving. He’d tried to stop you from renting The Dark Crystal for the millionth time for movie night but all it’d taken was a pout and he’d caved. This was just as empty a threat and you both knew it.  

“That’s what I said!” He insisted, ignoring the laughter. “There are a lot of things in Hawkins that have tried to kill me and you won’t be one of them!” He huffed, running a hand through his hair and tugging gently on the ends as he turned away from you. You wanted to laugh harder but resisted the urge, watching him throw his small hissy fit over the car and the drive.  

“Why don’t we just go in and watch a movie? You can pick?” You offered, “I think my mom left pizza money.”  

“I pick the pizza too!” He replied quickly, following you into the house, “I’m not eating that weird spinach crap you like!”

-

taglist: @mystic-writings @kenzi-woycehoski 

[annab-nana]

congrats!!! could i please request [ NURSE ] for one muse to tend to the other while they’re recovering from injuries” with steve?🥰

of course i can <3

warnings: not proofread, cleaning blood, being bullied in the past, slut-shaming of reader and nancy

❀ masterlist ❀

your friendship with steve was one of your longest. you'd known each other since you were in diapers. being neighbors will do that. when you two got into high school and he went his 'king steve' route with tommy—someone you hated and steve knew that going in—and carol, there were things he did you weren't fond of so there was a new distance between you both. but, if you ever needed each other, you knew he'd be there for you and you for him as well.

that being said, you had never been as angry with steve as you were now.

at first, when you saw his beat-up face, you were worried and rushed over to his house where he was getting out of his car. then, you pulled him inside while he explained to you that he got into a fight with jonathan byers. you didn't really know the guy, but it seemed he had some fight in him to leave this kind of mark on steve. he also didn't seem like the type to just up and fight someone, unless he had a motive which was your next question.

"steve," you called his name when he didn't answer you the first time. you dabbed the rag at his cheek while waiting for a reply.

"you know how nancy and i have kinda had a thing going on recently?"

and that's when it clicked. you'd seen the artwork spraypainted on the sign at the hawk when you and your mom drove by earlier. you thought steve would be crushed to see it, not that he was the one behind it.

your hand stopped moving the rag while you stared at him in disbelief. you had to ask because he wouldn't do that. your steve would never, right? "you did that?"

the way he hung his head in shame told you everything you needed to know. you were disappointed, angry, and most of all, hurt. it was like he had forgotten all about your past experiences or either he remembered and didn't care. you moved to continue cleaning and patching him up but you weren't as careful or gentle with it. you just wanted out of here, away from him.

"could you be a little softer maybe?" steve requested.

you dropped the rag in his hand. "you can do it yourself." you stepped back to leave, but steve's fingers circled your wrist to stop you.

"hey," he started, his voice sounding sincere, "why are you upset?"

you scoffed. "you don't remember, do you?"

his brows furrowed as he wracked his brain in search of any recollection that could somehow correlate to what was going on now. you could see he didn't remember so you jogged his memory.

"your bestie, tommy, freshmen year, made my life hell. before he got with carol, he tried me, but i wasn't interested. he didn't get the hint and kept on and on until i put my foot down in front his friends. but that embarrassed him so he had to do worse to me. he spread the rumor that i was easy to get in bed and that i was one of the worst fucks he ever had. then, he sent his friend, charlie to harass me as well. jonathan byers actually checked in on me during that time while you were so into becoming king steve. eddie munson, another kid that everyone in school picks on, walked with me to class the rest of that year because charlie wasn't going to come anywhere near the 'freak'. any of this ringing a bell, steve?"

he nodded solemnly.

"you need to rethink the people you keep around. they're changing the steve i fell in love with."

his head snapped up, not at all helping the headache he had. he never thought he had a chance with you so he never even tried. now, he wasted his time on other girls and blew his shot by being an ass. "you're in love with me?"

"yeah, i was." you tried to leave again, but the call of your name halted your steps.

he let out a sigh when you turned to face him. "i-i'm sorry."

"it's not me you need to apologize to."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

turn on notifications for @annab-library to be notified when i post something new!

[ghostsxagain]

@ghostsxagain asked: 🌧️ - to get caught in the rain with my muse (steve and nancy thompson) It was nice to just get out of the house for once and not have to worry about dreaming and falling back into the way things were at one time. She was still worried about closing her eyes and Freddy popping up. At least Steve knew about it though and he didn't call her crazy like everyone else. It was just like him dealing with the Upside Down, she believed him because it was impossible not to. They'd gone out to a field, settled on top of a hill so they could watch the sunset and spend a bit of time after stargazing. Settled on a blanket with a couple of solar lamps and another blanket to wrap around the both of them, they enjoyed the sunset - Nancy had forgotten how beautiful it was to see it and the sky fell to darkness before she heard smelled the rain in the air, looking over at Steve who was looking at her and just like that, the rain started pouring down onto them and they were both laughing and running to grab the blankets and lamps before making their way to his car and practically jumping into it. Soaking wet, Nancy laughed and looked over at him, pushing his hair from his face. "Well, I guess the universe had other plans for us tonight." @atrickrtreat

There was a strong sense of trust between Steve and Nancy. Both of them have experienced a lot of weird shit that would sound batshit crazy to just about anyone else. For these two though it was easy to believe everything the other said - they would kinda be hypocrites not to. Steve felt safe with her, as safe as he could with another person. They were each other's confidantes and protectors. There wasn't a single thing he wouldn't do for her.

They were supposed to have a nice normal date night since they were certainly overdue for one. The sunset was gorgeous and Steve felt uncharacteristically at peace as he held her close to him. Of course it was too much to ask because boom! the rain came out of nowhere and doused them both. They made it to his car as fast as possible but it wasn't even remotely fast enough since they were both drenched by the time they closed the doors. Steve didn't even get the chance to feel guilty about it since Nancy was laughing and smiling at him like this was all a part of their plan after all. He couldn't help laughing with her, his heart light. "Apparently. God forbid we do something nice for once, huh? I guess we're just destined for chaos, though I'll take this over our usual any day."

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Tagged by @stevethehairington 🖤

RULES:

Post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post.

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in or just post.

WIPS:

High school reunion

Breathless (Buckingham, Steddie)

(medieval?) outlaws

Cheating Douchebag notfic

fleabag_ask_steddie_angst

SNIPPET:

High school reunion (long, but this is the entire last bit I wrote for it)

Chrissy jerked upright.

"Oh my gosh," she said, wide eyes trained on something behind Eddie and Jeff.

They turned just in time to see Steve Harrington walk in, fashionably late, with a beautiful woman on his arm.

Contrasting the majority of their once-popular peers, Steve wasn't looking washed up or miserable – he looked as amazing as he had in his youth. That fact filled Eddie with as much ire as it did relief. Like most of the men, Steve was wearing informal attire, but he wore it better, the silver suit and indigo shirt fitting his body so well they had to be bespoke. The way he carried himself had evolved from obnoxious cocksureness to poised and mature confidence. And, of course, the hair.

It was shameful, but Eddie stared. Fortunately, he wasn't the only one – everyone stole at least a glance of their former ruler. Yes, even ten years later, King Steve was the center of the room. He seemed to barely notice it, too preoccupied by his companion. She was almost as tall as he, and the cut of her emerald jumpsuit elongated her legs while her pixie cut displayed an elegant neck. They resembled a pair of super models.

"What's he doing here?" Jeff murmured. "He didn't graduate with us."

"I think his… wife? I think she did," Chrissy said. "I recognize her."

"She's the girl he drove to school every day the year after he graduated," Eddie said.

Chrissy gasped.

"That's right!" she hissed excitedly, thankfully not questioning why the fuck Eddie knew that (he still cringed at himself). "She was in band? What was her name… Roxy? Roslyn?" She frowned and shook her head. "Anyway, everyone was gossiping about them."

"Everyone?"

Chrissy awarded him the kindest eyeroll of his life. "Everyone in my circle. No one knew what their deal was – they seemed close, but he dated other people and she didn't date at all. It started after he and Nancy broke up, and… I guess she was waiting for him to notice her like that." Her gaze followed them as they made their way forth, making pleasantries with the brave souls who dared to approach them. "Seems like she got him in the end."

Chrissy sighed dreamily, like it was the height of romance. Eddie was inclined to agree. After being dumped and nearly dethroned, the most handsome boy in town befriended this ugly duckling who helped nurse his wounds and his heart. Staying by his side, a loyal friend even when he courted others. Quietly hoping he would open his eyes to what was in front of him all along. And at last, her patience was rewarded, and he realized it was her he wanted.

A clichéd, juvenile, teenage dream. A fucking fairytale. But a romantic one.

"They're a good fit, aren't they?" Chrissy mused.

"You think?" Jeff said.

"Yeah. He's always been gorgeous and she's stunning." She rested her chin on her palm, drifting away with a smile. "She looks kinda tough. I bet they're a total power couple."

"No Pressure" tag list: @spinmewriteround, @madaboutmunson, @metalhoops, @loveinhawkins, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll

[fruity-phrog]

Chapter One - Will

Words: 1438

“Bullshit!” Lucas cries, “You so could have saved me!”

Tonight is balmy and hot, but wind whips against my face. Glinting stars and flickering lamps light the road as me, the Sinclairs, Max, El and Dustin zip past on our bikes (plus a skateboard).

“Oh, give it a rest, baby.” Erica chided, “We held you a funeral and everything!”

“That funeral could have gotten us killed, but we still did it.” Max adds. Lucas groans.

“Dustin? Will?” he asks, “Whose side are you on?”

I shrug, “Someone had to be sacrificed,” Dustin nods.

“Et tu, Brute?” Lucas says, evicting laughs. My fingers tap against my handlebars, counting the seconds.

“Shit.” I say, right on cue, skidding to a stop, “I left my bag at Mike’s place.”

The others stop, too. “D’you want us to go back with you?” El asks. I shake my head.

“It’s ok, you guys go home.” I say, “Curfews and all. See you tomorrow!”

The others bid goodbye as I turn. An involuntary smile cracking on my face, I make my way back to the Wheelers’ and head around the house, to the basement, where Mike is standing. He holds up a blue backpack and raises an eyebrow.

I pull open the door, “Oh, my bag!” I say in an over-the-top fashion, “My bag, the only reason I came back, which I left completely and utterly by accident, and definitely had no ulterior motives when I left it!”

Mike places a kiss on my lips as I step inside, “You’re a terrible actor. You know that, right?”

“Rude.”

We flop onto the couch, in pretty much the exact place we were a few minutes ago, save for our fingers interlocked in a way I wish they could be all the time. I run my thumb over Mike’s hand.

“Isn’t it kinda funny,” I say, “How we go through all this pomp and circumstance just to do what we always do, except alone?”

“Well, being alone makes all the difference, because I’m alone with you.” Mike grins cheesily.

“If I’d known you were such a charmer I would have dated you earlier.”

“That’s your issue, William.”

“And I am immediately revoking my charmer statement.”

We chuckle. 

Leaning forward, Mike pushes the VHS in and the beginning chords of Clue strike up. Lightning crashes on screen.

“This film,” Mike muses, “Is unironically the best thing ever.”

“You just have a crush on Lesley Ann Warren.” I say.

“I do not! Shut up!” Mike pushes me. I gasp comically.

“Thou dare challenge me, Will the Wise?!” I cry, before launching myself at Mike. He tumbles to the ground. Grabbing a throw pillow, I lob it at his head. He catches it and throws it back, and now it’s full-out war. Cushions fly left and right as Ms. Scarlet and Prof. Plum flirt on the tv. One hits a lamp, causing it to fall with a thump.

“Mike?” Mrs Wheeler calls from upstairs, “What was that?”

“I just tripped, Mom!” Mike shouts back while I stifle laughter. He throws one more pillow for good luck as his mom asks if he’s ok.

“Yep!” he says, and silence prevails again.

I lock eyes with him, and we both burst out laughing. Though they probably wouldn’t notice, and almost definitely wouldn’t connect the dots, we decided it would be better if Mike’s parents don’t know how often me and Mike hang out alone. It’s out of place for Lucas and Dustin not to be here as well. But it turns out we’re pretty bad at it – I’m half sure Jonathan already knows we’re dating. Mike shushes me, still giggling.

“Nancy’s upstairs with Robin,” he says, “If we’re annoying she’ll come and ruin the night.”

We settle back down onto the couch with our fingers entangled and my head on Mike’s shoulder.

Ten minutes later and I’m trying to focus - I really am - but Mike keeps sneaking glances at me. And I keep sneaking glances at him. And when I catch him watching me for what must be the tenth time, this time not even trying to pretend he isn’t, I blush.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.” Mike says, still staring at me.

“Why’re you staring at me?” I persist, laughing slightly. 

“You just look really cute right now,” Mike says with his chin on his hand, “I wanna kiss the hell out of you.”

Now I blush properly, even though it’s not like we haven’t kissed before, “You know you don’t have to ask for permission.”

“That’s good.” Mike says as he wraps his arms around my neck and presses his lips against mine. I smile and he kisses me again and again, on my lips, my cheeks, my forehead. I giggle and dwell in the green snapshots of his eyes I get in between kisses. But mainly I focus on the kisses because god, my boyfriend’s cute.

“Wait, wait,” I say, pressing my hand against Mike’s mouth, “My turn now.”

I kiss him, but since I’m not too sure how to be endearing and adorable like Mike I just stay at his lips. The sweet excitement in the air dies down, leading to just a quiet, palpable love of the other boy. But despite this, despite my hands either side of his face, despite his arms wrapped around my waist, despite the fact I’ve been here countless times before, I still can’t believe I’m kissing Mike Wheeler. The boy I’ve been in love with since fifth grade. My best friend. 

Eventually, we break apart but don’t go far. Mike lays his forehead on mine and smiles.

“I love you.” he says. My heart soars,

“I love you, too.”

The sound of someone aggressively knocking on the door scares us apart, but it’s just in the movie. In reality, it’s past nine and no one in their right mind would come knocking by.

“Shit!” I say as my thoughts hit me, “It’s past nine!”

Mike’s face drops, “Aw, really?”

“Yeah!” I jump up, “I’ve got ten minutes.”

Mike slides open the back door and we dash out. Five years later, and he’s still scared to let me cycle home alone. My heart warms everytime I think about it.

We cycle home with wind flying through our hair. Skidding to a halt in my yard, I head up the drive before Mom realises I’m late. Then I stop.

“Hang on.” I say, turning around. The lights in the house are off, so I grab Mike's hand and kiss him quickly. When I pull away, Mike brushes my hand against his lips, bowing low. I giggle like a twelve year old girl and run back up to the door, shouting my goodbye as I do.

“Hey, Mom.” I say as I enter. She looks up from her book. From her eyes, I can tell she knows I’m late.

“I-I was with Mike.” I say, needing to get there first, “We just lost track of time. I’m only a few minutes late…”

Mom sighs, “Alright. But please be on time. You know that I worry.”

“Yeah, ok, sorry.”

“I’ve got some microwave stuff if you’re hungry?”

Mom leaves to grab the food from the fridge and I twitch back the curtain. Mike is still there, adjusting his bike chain. I catch his eye, and blow a kiss his way. He grins.

Later that night, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I remember the day Mom told me we were moving back to Hawkins. Mike had asked me to be his boyfriend just the other day, over the phone. I was still buzzing from the shock of it all, and Mom sat me down in the living room and asked if I missed Mike. I thought that maybe she’d found out about the phone call and became really panicky. But she just said that it was unfair that I lived so far away from so much of my life, and that we’d be moving back that summer. I was ecstatic, and called Mike’s house again and again and again until I got through to him. We talked for hours about what we would do together - not specifically mentioning anything romantic in case Mrs Wheeler was on the phone, but we knew. We knew everything we were planning, we’d do as boyfriends. I still feel like that, like Mike just asked me out for the first time and I can’t believe my god damn luck. I think I’ll always feel like that, and it’s this thought that I drift to sleep with.

Ok, finally posting the first chapter. So this doesn’t   D I E   I will only post a chapter when the next three are completed. This is the post that started this fic and if you want to be tagged in the next chapters comment and I’ll add you in the next post.

As promised, tagging  @bvleraddict @remarkablelightening @rel312 @dasnagon @uwujinniee @bethhiraeth @CanaryGecko

[iamaslutforcoffee]

Home Sweet Home Chapter Nine

That following Friday

Nervousness was not a trait Eloise had, she knew it but it only appeared in rare cases for her personally.

But the idea..the thought of her and Eddie having an actual date was something that made her extremely nervous.

And what for? He already knew everything about her. He's already seen her naked. She's already given him almost every part of her she's had to give, but she still didn't quite understand why Eddie Munson taking her on a date made her heart skip a beat and butterflys flying around in her stomach.

Then it hit her..

It was love.

And love was a fickle thing, but if she was sure of anything it was that Eddie was her person.

Walking to her science class she managed to accidentally bump shoulders with someone in the hallway causing the other person to drop their belongings.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" She spoke fast, helping the girl pick up papers and books.

"It's fine! It's not a big deal don't worry about it!" The girl responded, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear and grabbing the remaining papers from Eloise.

"Nancy, by the way. Nancy Wheeler. " Nancy spoke, holding her hand out.

Eloise hesitantly took it, shaking it in return.

"Eloise." She spoke confidently.

"Oh, you're the girl who's got Eddie in a better mood?" Nancy asked, much to the confusion of Eloise.

"I should clarify... my brother Mike plays DND with Eddie, he's the younger stick skinny one that hangs around with Dustin" she laughed as she spoke, her eyes lighting up as she did.

"Oh, I think I know him. He's in the club with Eddie" Eloise mused, her own smile causing a curve to her face.

Nancy kinda grimaced, and a second person appeared next to the pair.

"Munson? He's a special character that one.." the guy spoke. She noticed his hair, it was styled perfectly.

"I'm Steve, by the way." He spoke, nodding at Eloise.

"Eloise. Uh, yeah he's kind of always been a show.." she trailed off, scratching behind her neck and leaning against the lockers.

She noticed him down the hallway, terrorizing the passing by students. Although he meant no harm it always brought him joy and joy was something she thought suited him perfectly.

"How do you know him?" Nancy asked, trying to make light of the conversation.

"Oh, he's uh.. he's an old friend from childhood.. and he's my son's father.." she spoke with the idea to brace herself with all kinds of bewildering questions and attacks.

"Wait, Munson has a kid?" Steve asked. Nancy punched his side and gave him a look which Eloise certainly appreciated.

"Yeah, he does. But he didn't know about it till recently which is my fault but I have faith he'll be a great father to our boy. " she spoke, hearing her Eddie down the hall, still terrorizing away.

"Anyways, I'll see you guys later. I'm sorry again about running into you!" She spoke quickly and headed to class.

~

"My love for you is a journey, starting at forever and ending at never"

Author unknown.

Finally making it to the end of the day she headed towards her locker to grab her things and Harrisons. Finally getting the death trap open a note fell from it, and as she picked it up she recognized Eddie's absolutely dreadful hand writing.

"Do you remember the first time I ever kissed you? I think it was at lovers lake. You had your heart broken for the first time by that dick head Tommy. I took you there so we could watch the stars and the moon?

Thats the first time I realized I liked you.

When I realized I loved you, is when your father pulled me aside and told me that you were going through a rough time with your mom being sick. It was before you knew she had cancer. Even when you had so much to be upset about you were still so kind to everyone and put on a happy face because you didn't want anyone to worry. It broke my heart cause I wanted to take all the pain away from you and make it my own.

When I realized I was in love with you is when you told me you guys had to move for your mother's treatments and you promised that no matter what we would find our way again.

Eloise... I was serious when I said I would marry you. But for now I think asking you to officially be my girlfriend is a good start"

If her heart could get any bigger, she wouldn't have had room for any organs in her body. Eddie has had a hard time with his words, especially since his traumatic childhood. But he still managed in his own little way and Eloise loved the fact.

Eloise went to the children's room and Harrison came running, smiling and laughing.

"Oh! How was mommy's baby? Huh? Were you good?" She cooed, picking him up and hugging him close. He smelt faintly of Eddie, which made her smile. She started to walk out when she saw the familar mop of dark curly long hair was skipping her way.

"Oh, hey m'lady, I was gonna grab him for you.." he spoke, kissing the both of their heads.

"Oh, thank You Eddie.. and thank you for the note. It made me smile" she spoke, tucking a piece of hair behind her head and smiled, Eddie leaning down to kiss her.

"How was my little dude today huh?! You didn't bite anyone again did you?" Eddie asked, grabbing Harrison and tickling him.

"He what?! He fuckin' bit a kid?!" She asked, perplexed and honestly scared. She didn't want him kicked out of the program, but she also didn't understand what could have happened.

"He did, m'lady. But fear not it wasn't any old kid! No! It was one of my DND kids, Dustin" Eddie spoke, walking them outside and to his van so they could all get home. They've been taking eachother to school to spend more time together and to also just save gas money.

Eddie buckled him into the carseat, kissing his hands and smiling. Eloise giggled, and then noticed that Harrison was wearing a kids version of his own Hellfire Club shirt.

"Seriously, Eddie? A Hellfire onsie?" She asked, shutting the van door and getting in on the passenger seat.

Eddie simply smiled at her the same old smile he always did, even if he knew it wouldn't get him completely out of trouble.

[percentstardust]

Nancy gives Steve a bear 🥺

give my muses stuffed animals! | @wildcardwheeler

At first, he is confused at the gift. But, once he takes a closer look, he understands way. "Is....is this supposed to be an Ewok?" He asks, looking at her with eyes bright with happiness. Of course, Nancy is one of the few that know about his interest in things like these. He appreciates it.

"Cause it kinda looks like one."

[zephiraz]

I had a dream that I was in college again and part of the course requirement was to every day go to this floating pocket dimension library that was a towering octagon lined with shelves on every side, soaring for miles above our heads with more and more packed shelves. If you could see behind the books and shelves there weren't any walls, but a roiling expanse of starry nebulae like

And every day we had to read Two Books

I picked up one that seemed pretty small, surely I would be able to finish it within the schoolday, one of those kids' books that are longer than they are tall with the shiny binding, but just as I prepared to open it I saw someone else poking at mystery novels, so I mused that I missed reading those Hardy Boy and Nancy Drew kinda things (except I got the name wrong, called it Nancy Mulligan, and that was just Correct in the Space Library). The person pointed me to a long collection of those vintage hardcovers that look like they would fall apart if you breathed on them wrong. I put my kids' book away and picked up one of these lavender Nancy Mulligan books, incredibly excited and incredibly careful. It was one of those densely-packed books with thin pages. I remembered old mystery books being short enough to finish quickly, but there was no way I would be able to finish this and one whole other book within the schoolday, but I wanted it.

I asked the teacher behind us, leaning against a wall of books and stars, if I could check this book out. He was stunned. You never check anything out of the Space Library. It was too hungry for that.

[dre4mgrl]

🗒 — what is/are your favorite genre(s)/theme(s) to write? 🤔 — what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most?

MUNDAY ASKS --- accepting!

🗒 — what is/are your favorite genre(s)/theme(s) to write?

i really lean towards introspective themes. it's a great way to breakdown a canon muse and form a portrayal that's unique to the voice you want to give them. i'm a little rusty when it comes to digging in and letting the words naturally inform what i'm trying to say with this. i feel like it's reading a rambling mess rather than a steady stream of consciousness. which... now that i confess that, it sounds like the same thing. maybe i'm still figuring out what nancy's thinking. anywho, with that, i like exploring complicated dynamics with other muses. genre-wise, i'd say lite angst and fluff. sometimes heavy angst. i haven't written it in a while, so i think i miss that. i don't like angst for hurt sake though. i like to work out a good bond with my partner that's a kind of chemistry, not strictly related to writing ships. if i'm writing with someone who's just trying to shock me, it feels like a contest. nancy and i share a competitive streak, but i'd rather it be in a contest over who can up the game and not who can hit the hardest. again... kinda sounds the same. if you know, you know😜

🤔 — what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most?

action. i can come up with ideas and scenarios, but i do struggle with worrying about if i'm trying too hard or doing something bordering on godmodding. it's more of a self-conscious thing. i struggle with taboo themes or some darker themes. i don't mind going over troubled backgrounds, or dark character development. when it comes to writing out, i guess, physical and psychological torturous themes, i lose interest.

[summersturned]

STORM ( i'm thinking kinda first meeting but make it count? maybe some of the HSM/TMTS muses, or age wise there's Nancy Drew, the Glee muses, Lockwood, Mattie from Humans, but feel free to pick any )

STORM :  for both muses to find shelter from a severe storm.

Jeremiah had not meant to stray far from the party. he had always enjoyed mingling with the crowd, but he needed a drink and to get away from his brother locking lips with his oldest crush. What he hadn't expected was the absolute torrential down pour smacking against his skin and lungs. The beach being assaulted by the winds torrent. The Cousins house had been overloaded with people he didn't know for the sake of this raucous party. A last FU to his Aunt Julia wanting to wreck their house. In the midst of looking for shelter before the long walk back, he noticed only one other person hiding out. A beautiful girl he had noticed all night with auburn hair and bright eyes. The kind of smart looking that made her seem better than everyone else without noticing it herself. Before thought could dance in his head, he was shrugging off his jacket walking her way. touch was something that came easily to him though the Fisher boy had no interest in scaring the poor woman. "hey!" he tried to yell over the roaring sounds. "I see a spot over here we can wait it out before we walk back to the house. " He didn't like the debris dusting up around them. "My name is Jeremiah Fisher."