Part 1

Steddie Microfic

April prompt: score

Word count: 351

No warnings apply

Rated G

@steddiemicrofic

“He shoots,” Steve says, watching as Eddie prepares to aim at the basket, right hand firmly behind the ball, left hand steadying. He crouches, explodes up, and flicks his wrist.

The basketball goes in. Nothing but net.

“And he scores!” Steve yells, running and tackling Eddie in a hug. “You did it, dude!”

“Holy shit,” Eddie giggles. “I did!”

He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, looking first at the basket, then at the ball, slowly rolling away. “And if I’m not mistaken, my liege,” he glances over at Steve in his periphery, smirk playing along the edges of his lips. “That means you owe me.”

Steve’s grinning too hard to sound worried. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Eh,” Eddie says, “depends on how badly you don’t want to play D&D.”

Steve stops. “I- Ed, c’mon, you don’t want me to play. I’m not gonna be able to remember anything, I’m just gonna slow you down, even the simple math is gonna trip me up. I- it won’t be fun for you.”

Eddie turns with furrowed brows towards Steve. “It’ll be fun because it’ll be time spent with you, dude.” He sighs. “If you really don’t want to play, that’s one thing, but don’t put yourself down like that. Don’t call yourself dumb and uninteresting. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“It actually is the truth,” Steve argues. “I’ve gotten too many concussions to read, dude. And I’m just… me. Nothing special.”

“You are special enough,” Eddie argues back. “You’re kind and funny and observant and you always know what to say, whether it’s to make someone feel better or to make us laugh. You’re sharp as a fuckin’ tack and I hate that you can’t see it because it means we’ve all failed you as friends.”

Steve snorts. “Don’t give yourself all the credit. I was ruined long before any of you came around.”

Eddie kisses him. Hard. Pulls back with wide eyes and uneven breathing. “Steve-”

Steve’s breath hitches. “You mean it?”

“I do.”

Steve watches him lick his lips. “Do it again?”

Eddie blinks, grins. “Gladly.”

🎆 🍔 New Years Eve Steddie please!

You got it! Here are the boys finally meeting!

Eddie rubs a tired hand over his forehead. “My shift’s over in literally five minutes. Would you…would you feel comfortable enough to go to the diner next door with me? I’ve got some Advil in my employee locker. And I could get you a cheeseburger.” The guy goes completely quiet and still. He goes to try and shimmy around with the door, maybe get it off its hinges or something, make sure he’s not choking or— But then he sniffles softly. “That sounds really nice,” he says, “you’re really nice. What’s…what’s your name?” “Eddie, and yours?” “Steve,” he breathes. “Sorry I’m such a sack of crap. Wasting your time.”

Thank you for the ask!

WIP Weekend Ask Game!

Twelve Days of Stranger-mas (5/12)

I'm using the twelve days of Christmas prompts from the @strangerthingswritersguild to create an ongoing fic with a short chapter for each day! steddie | teen&up | temporary character death

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Day 5 Prompt: Five Handwritten Notes

Robin had suggested it. Steve had scoffed and shook his head and sworn he wouldn’t try it. But here he is, pen in hand and notebook in front of him on his desk. Closure, Robin had said he needed.

Dear Eddie Munson, 

Steve scratches that out immediately, feeling like a twelve year old girl writing a diary entry. It’s not like Eddie’s actually going to fucking read it anyway. He tears out the whole page and tosses it into the trash can across the room. 

It takes another week before he tries again. 

Hey Eddie. It’s been two months since you didn’t come back from the Upside Down. It feels like so much longer and yesterday at the same time. It’s not like you’re the first person we’ve lost, so I don’t know why this has hit me so much harder. Maybe it's because of the kids. They talk about you all the time. Sometimes I act like it annoys me, but honestly it’s kind of nice to learn more about you. Those kids idolize you, man. They really do. 

Steve hides the journal under his mattress when he’s done, feeling even more like a twelve year old girl, but he can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands, especially with Dustin hanging around all the damn time nowadays. 

Eddie – Fucking hell, I wish you were here to take Dustin off my hands for a while. I know he’s grieving but holy shit, dude. I wake up to him checking in on the walkie every morning, can’t go to work without him stopping by every single day. I can’t even go to sleep without telling him first, otherwise he’ll come banging on my door in the middle of the night, convinced I’ve been attacked by Vecna. 

Time keeps dragging on, and Steve starts to find comfort in writing his stupid little notes to Eddie. He finds himself sitting down most nights, just updating Eddie on his day, however boring. 

I’m sick to the gills of Hawkins, Eddie, I really am. I always thought I’d live my whole life here, settle down with a little family, all that shit. But it’s day after fucking day rewinding tapes, seeing the same kids and same couples and same assholes coming in to rent the same rotation of movies and I think I might lose it, Eds, honestly.

And when things in his life change, when there’s big news or something to vent about, Steve finds himself counting down the hours until he can write an update and get all his thoughts out on paper. 

Robin has a girlfriend. I don’t know if you knew Vickie? Played clarinet in the marching band? Anyway, she’s nice enough, and I’m happy for Robin, so happy for her, she deserves a girlfriend after everything. But… I’m also kind of lonely. We used to moan about being perpetually single together and now all Robin wants to do is talk about Vickie. Or go see Vickie. Or call Vickie on the phone. And I’m left feeling like a pathetic third wheel. 

Do you think we would be friends, if you were still here? I know you can’t answer me, I’m not fucking stupid, but I don’t know. I think we could have been. Surviving that shit does something to you. Bonds you or something. Maybe we would have been close. Sometimes I feel weirdly close to you, just writing these. I don’t know. Maybe. Guess we’ll never know.

Eddie: *to Robin and Steve* Who are these people you're gossiping about again?!

Robin: Oh, we don't actually gossip about real people.

Steve: Yeah, we learned that lesson the hard way.

Robin: So, now we make up people and their backgrounds. We gossip about them.

Eddie: I have been invested for over an hour over people who are NOT real?!

Steve and Robin: Yeah.

Eddie: *throwing up his hands* Either write a fucking book or join Hellfire!

Steve and Robin: *looks at each other before looking back at Eddie* Nah.

Eddie: *screams*

Here i am, having my first

grand

down phase while on adhd medication.

Brilliant when your brain tells you that you are just lazy and you can’t really have adhd, because your meds would work if you had it.

Just FUCK IT

why is existing so damn difficult sometimes!?!

@izzy2210

here you go! i did them in green and black so they'd match your blog <3

requests: open please like/reblog if you use! credit is appreciated!

Two days after they nearly lose their daughter to a fire the Buckley’s open the door to find a woman with curly red hair on their porch step. Claudia Henderson. They’ve heard the rumors, Hawkins does so dearly love them, about why she moved to Hawkins when her child was six. They’ve heard the rumors about rumors. About how her boy is friends with the boy who did but didn’t. They’ve seen her out and about. Mousy. Timid. Flinching when yelling gets too loud and over protective of her boy. For a moment, just a brief one, they think she’s here to blame their hatchling. Their fledgling. Backs straighten, mouths flatten.

“I do hope I didn’t wake Robin, knocking on your door,” is what they get instead. The mousy, timid woman not as noisy and timid as they thought as she manages to smile and talk her way into their home. Robin is still asleep.

“Now I’m sure we’ve heard the fire story.”

They nod. It felt wrong, smelled fishy. Dottie has never been a fan of the government and River saw the damage to the Harrington boy. No falling debris could cause that.

“I don’t know much. Dusty won’t say much and always looks so scared when I ask. But it’s a load of cow manure. Something happened though.”

Claudia talks in a soft low voice, even when agitated and upset. Her hands moving in eclectic patterns. She tells them what she’s seen, what she’s guessed, put together with the Sinclair’s and oddly enough Ted Wheeler.

“Karen is of the opinion we should wait for the children to tell us. She listens in but doesn’t offer anything. It’s sweet really,” she says and they both notice that her cheeks get the same pink tint that Robin’s does when she talks about Tammy or Heather or Vickie or even Chrissy. Dottie raises an eyebrow, River tucks his chin.

They’re interrupted by noises coming from upstairs. A thump like a body hitting the floor. Followed by two sets of running feet. A door opens, closes, a few minutes later the toilet flushes. They wait and listen as two try to become one on the walk back to Robin’s room.

“Steve likes to think he’s sneaky, but his nightmares give him away. He’ll… he’ll probably cycle through houses. Will try not to be seen. Especially now.”

“Now?” River asks because he’s always been nosier than Dottie.

“Him and Hopper.”

There were rumors, some nastier than others.

“Hopper had practically adopted him.”

Dottie makes a pain filled noise. She’d had a different upbringing than River. His grandmother joining the little commune of hippies and nature lovers, those who wanted peace and a greater feeling of unity, than her parents. And the parents that had basically adopted her.

“We shared custody, Hopper and I. So he comes through my front door. He’ll collapse on me and cry. He probably won’t with you. I know he doesn’t with the others.”

It’s not quite what they left behind, what grief caused them to flee. But it’s still a village and Claudia is there to welcome them in.

—/—/—/—/—/—

Later. Not even a year later. They, and the others, stand up in town hall. Call Jason Carver a fear mongering asshole and condemn anyone who believes him. Jason calls them satanist sympathizers. They aren’t quite run out of town but people side eye them. Some of the more religious threaten them.

They’re there when Claudia get the call Dustin and Steve are in the hospital. There to take Steve’s place protecting the Munson boy. Worry deep set on their faces when he faints the moment Dottie takes the nail studded bat from his hands.

They’re there when Steve flatlines twice and Eddie does thrice. They’re there when Wayne Munson gets the Claudia treatment. They’re there because that’s what family, what a village does.

Adding onto Steve's crime spree from this (and this and this)

Eddie has determined that he's not asking the right questions in life.

Is he questioning the man? Yes. Every day.

Is he asking Wayne for help when his van shits the bed on Thursday? No. When his van is still unusable come Saturday, did he ask his friends if he could catch a ride to band practice? No.

Did he ask if he could get a ride home? Also no.

It's raining and Eddie regrets his life choices so hard, he doesn't notice the Porsche 928 until it blows through the crosswalk he was about to step onto. He's hit with a tidal wave of frigid early November street water because, of course, he is.

"Fuck's sake," Eddie swore, pushing his wet hair out of his face. In his perphery, the Porche slams on its breaks and rolls back into the crosswalk beside him, but he barely notices. Talking to the driver, the world, or god, Eddie does not know when he rants, "Thanks! Thanks for that, I really need pnumonia. Thanks for bestowing-"

"Sorry, man," Steve says, an apologetic wince sticking out of the open window of the Porche. "Wanna ride? I can take you where you're going."

Eddie looks at the car, then at Steve, and then back at the car and signs, "...Fine, but only because this car is beautiful and not to expunge your guilt."

"Dude, I don't think a sponge is going to help."

Eddie rolls his eyes but sticks his guitar in the trunk before sliding into the passenger seat. He has to physically stop himself from touching everything. He's never even seen a Porche before, wow.

Steve's in the driver's seat looking like he's dying for Eddie to ask about the car so he can talk about it. Honestly, Eddie wants to ask about the car. He probably should have asked about the car but instead, he shakes the water out of his hair like a dog as payback.

"C'mon, man," Steve complains, wiping the water off his face. "Watch the leather."

Eddie gives him directions and then bites the bullet. He asks the wrong question, "You trade in the Beamer?"

"No way. That's my baby," He says. "I'm just borrowing this lady."

The conversation is actually nice. None of Eddie's friends know anything about cars but Steve seems to know a lot. He can almost forgive the guy for being a jock and the psychological warfare he's bestowed onto Eddie's brain the past week and a half, but then-

“It sounds like - shit," Eddie says, echoing the same sentiment as Steve at the sight of flashing red and blue lights in the rear view. A question he should've been asking all along occurs to him, "Did you steal this car?"

Steve gives him an annoyed look and then rolls down his window, smiling that All-American smile, "Heya, Hop. Didn't think you were working today."

"This car was reported stolen."

Eddie swears, sinking into the leather with the hopes that it eats him. Steve doesn't even hesitate, "Let me guess, Mrs. Woolledge? Crazy she knows what all her neighbors are doing but not that her kid's on dope."

Hopper doesn't say anything and the silence is loud so Steve adds, "It's not stolen. It's my dad's car. I have permission."

"From your dad?" Hopper asks, getting an annoyed nod from Steve. "Same dad that's out of town?"

"Well, Hop. There's this thing called a phone."

"You get that MRI...right? Throw the keys out the window," Hopper says. Eddie's mentally preparing on how he's going to explain this to Wayne when he calls from jail. Steve protests. Hopper demands, "Throw. The keys. Out. The. Window. Now."

Steve seems to realize that he's pushing his luck because he does just that. He even gets out of the car when Hopper tells him to. Hopper tells him to get in his truck and Steve straight up lies, "Hop, I'm taking my friend home. We're working on a school project together. At his house.”

Eddie curses Steve's entire bloodline from start to finish when Hopper lookings directly at him still in the car, "That true?"

Say no. Say you don't know him. Say you know nothing. Say anything but, "Yes."

"What subject?'

"History," Steve says at the same time Eddie says 'Art' and then rolls his eyes, "Art history, yeah?"

Hopper nods like he thinks they're full of shit and then tells them both to get in his truck.

Steve protests but more about leaving the car on the street than anything else while Eddie briefly thinks about the psychic his mom used to know. He wonders if she could curse someone for real. Maybe he can call her from jail.

He's fully ready to see the police station that he fails to realize where Hopper's going until they’re in Forest Hills. He turns and looks at both of them and says, "I'd like to know what grade you get on this project."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Steve says with a salute, pulling Eddie out of the car. Once they're inside, Steve peaks out the blinds like, "Yeah, he'll sit there for a while. He thinks I'm lying. Wanna smoke?"

Eddie is baffled, "No."

"Okay," Steve shrugs and flops down on the couch. He pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and adds, "Spare key. We just gotta wait until he's gone and can circle back for your guitar."

The only thing Eddie can think is, “what the fuck” and he doesn’t even know which part he’s talking about.

i hope the person who made the romeo and juliet uquiz never deletes it and also knows that i think about it at least once a month