Uni.

Teen Dad AU

Part 7!! (??)

I’m losing track.

More Steddie interactions (kinda?)! Plus Steve and Louie and the kids :))

I’m so excited for this one aaahhhhh!!!!!

I’m starting this on my 15th bday lmaoooo

(Update it is now 2 months after my bday, HAPPY pride month everyone!!)

Tag list:

@cam-cat-writer @jackiemonroe5512 @finntheehumaneater @irregular-child @grimmfitzz @fantrash @bookworm0690 @fiddledeedee85 @hunterbow04 @strangeforest @just-a-tiny-void @jaimeweasley13 @thelittleclare @rebellatio-03 @sirsnacksalot @geekyfifi @sapphireoceansoc @salty-h0e @dragonmama76 @mentallyundone-blog @lingeringmirth @moomkin77 @netflixisacopingstrategymom @jaytriesstuff @goodolefashionedloverboi @hellfirebaby-86 @blu3stars @blackpanzy @strawberryyyenthusiast @lololol-1234 @thestarslittleking @silenzioperso @forest-fogg @bebopbabyy @lawrencebshaggoth @stevesbipanic @dauntlessdiva @live0rdive @y4r3luv @jonesn4coffee @sofadofax @sensationalsunburst @scarlet-malfoy @l393ndjean @asspirin-s @fandomz-brainrot @mugloversonly @virginlemontea @littlebluejane @paintsplatteredandimperfect @astrid-nomically-steddie @maferisa-7 @phantomrose17 @thoughtfulbreadpolice @fandomnerd103 @atemisiscursed @croatoan-like-its-hot @myownworstenemyyy

.

Steve didn’t want to leave the kitchen.

“Get the hell out there, Harrington!” George scolded him. “It’s a bunch of middle schoolers!”

Yeah, Steve refused to serve a table of middle schoolers. Because they weren’t /just/ middle schoolers.

They were his middle schoolers.

Accompanied by Miss. Byers and Jonathan.

Steve internally groaned. He had been completely avoiding and refusing to tell any of them where he worked and had sworn Hopper to secrecy. Dramatic? Sure. But valid? Absolutely.

Those kids were menaces. Even Will in his own way, giving Steve one of those sweet smiles of his to get him to give them rides almost whenever. Ugh.

The point is; Steve didn’t want to the Brat Bridge to know where he worked. Because then they’d come just about everyday to harass him.

But a teasing comment about “Scaredy Steve” from Mason had Steve punching Mason in the arm and marching out into the actual diner.

Gwen walked past him into the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes. She clapped him on the shoulder with a sly smile. “Good luck, they’re a loud bunch.”

Steve sighed. “Trust me, I know.”

Five kids, one teen, and one adult. Steve would be fine. It’d be totally fine. He sees these people like every goddamn day—

“Steve!”

He’s been spotted.

Steve gave a strained smile to Dustin, who was actually bouncing in his chair between Mike and Max, who were both looking at him like a freaky big they’d never seen before.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas chirped, across from Dustin, grinning ear to ear. Will sat quietly next to him but smiled at Steve when they made eye contact.

Steve crossed his arms and popped his hip, a small grin of his own plastering his face. “I work here, Sinclair. Now what does the Brat Pack want?”

A chorus of shouts of different menu items flew at Steve all at once. He chuckled quietly, and then groaned louder— just to be a dramatic shit.

“One at a time! You learned how to take turns in kindergarten, didn’t you? Or are you guys still there?”

Dustin and Mike immediately protested, Max making a dig at Steve’s “elementary school IQ”. While the three of them argued with a not-listening Steve, Steve turned his attention to Will and Lucas.

Orders were placed quickly after. Steve turning to Jonathan and Joyce after the kids.

When he gave the paper to Mason the raised eyebrow he got back held thousands of questions. Questions Steve ignored with a smirk and wave of his hand.

.

His shift that day was rowdy and filled with teasing and laughter. Not much different than usual but it was warmer. More comforting. The kids didn’t leave with Miss. Byers, opting to stay behind with Jonathan and wait until Steve’s shift ended.

Allya and George waved Steve off about closing, insisting they’d get to it themselves.

So, Steve and Jonathan split the brats up between their cars; Lucas, Mike and Dustin with Steve, Max and Will with Jonathan.

“Steve can we go to your house? Please?” Dustin begged, hanging off of Steve’s arm while they all walked to the cars. Steve pretended to think about it, already knowing full well that he’d give in and let them storm his trailer.

He sighed dramatically, just for shits and giggles, before agreeing. Because he’s a giant push over.

Steve and Jonathan split the kids up and Jonathan followed Steve all the way to trailer park.

“Hang on—“ Dustin slapped Steve’s arm from his seat in the passengers side. “Don’t you live in Loch Nora?”

Steve huffed, his irritation flaring at the reminder. He quickly tramped it down, refusing to be angry at Dustin for being curious.

“Used to. Moved out once I got Louie.” He explained, barely even a lie.

Mike and Lucas shared a glance in the back seat. Steve narrowed his eyes at them before quickly returning his gaze to the road. He’d have a talk to them later about trying to play detective.

Jonathan and Steve pulled in side by side in the driveway. The kids got out one by one, rushing to the porch and waiting impatiently for Steve to open it for them.

Steve smiled a small smile at the antics, before catching Jonathan staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

Steve turned to him with a confused raise of his eyebrows. Jonathan raised his own eyebrows and looked pointedly to the trailer before back at Steve.

So it wasn’t Lucas and Mike playing detective, it was Jonathan.

Steve rolled and eyes and made a very pointed and obvious “later” look before pushing through the kids and unlocking the door.

The kids discarded their shoes haphazardly and spread out in the living room, looking at everything.

“I’ll be right back. Break anything and I’ll break your asses.”

Max and Mike rolled their eyes, disappearing with Will down the hall to no doubt look around more. Dustin and Lucas stayed in the living room.

“Where are you going? And where’s Louie?” Lucas asked suspiciously.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Wow ok. More interested in my kid than me, Sinclair?” Lucas spluttered a reply, but Steve waved him off with a chuckle. “I’m kidding, doofus. Louie’s up at Gran— er, Margaret’s, because I had work.”

Lucas deemed this an ok answer and let Steve go.

He knocked on Gran’a door three times before she opened, Louie on her hip and the twins right behind her. Noah and Casey immediately ran out the door to hug Steve on the small porch, each hanging off of a different leg as Steve reached out to take Louie from Gran.

“Heya, baby!” Steve greeted the now teething infant. Teething, as Louie immediately stuck Steve’s shirt collar in his mouth to chew on.

Steve smiled at Gran, letting her know the brats were over but that they could still have dinner together that night if she was ok with an extra five kids (and Jonathan).

Grab waved him off. “The more the merrier, dear.”

Noah and Casey followed Steve home, Gran having to go run some errands and taking advantage of Steve finally being home. Steve didn’t mind.

He’d just made it to the bottom of his porch when something caught his eye across the street; leaving his own trailer was Eddie Munson, his hair thrown half-up-half-down and his shirt and jeans ripped to basically scraps. He was grinning and talking while walking backwards, supposedly to the old man standing in the doorway.

Eddie turned around just in time to make eye contact with Steve, raise an eyebrow, and grin devilishly. He stuck out his tongue, and Steve and Louie both giggled.

Steve broke the tension-filled eye contact to look down at little baby Louie, who was still chewing on his shirt. Louie grinned back at him, his little teeth nubs shiny. When Steve looked back to Eddie, the van was gone and the pretty metalhead was nowhere in sight.

“Steve! Why are you withholding the child?” Max demanded.

Steve snapped back to reality just enough to glare over his shoulder at her.

.

IM SO SORRY FOR THE SLOW ASS UPDATES BUT I CANT PROMISE ILL DO BETTER WITH MY ADHD AND HYPER-FIXATIONS EVERYWHERE 😭😭

You know, the funniest implication in Stranger Things is that Dustin swears so much because his mom does.

There’s a tumblr post floating around somewhere that says “We think that if we get better at writing, it will someday stop sounding like we wrote it” or something along those lines.

Does anyone happen to have a link handy? I want to reference it in an advice post.

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!?!

Vickie: So, Steve's your platonic soulmate? That's good, very good! I like him. . .I mean, not like that but yeah, he's a good platonic soulmate. He's great!

Robin: Thanks! He's got pockets!

An Unexpected Gift

written for ‘alone’ | wc: 999 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: pre-season four, pre-relationship, fluff, steve has a crush on eddie, eddie has no clue

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Part One Part Two

Winter break was in full force in Hawkins, complete with a post-Christmas Day bash at the Harrington residence. And after a full day or more stuck with their extended families, the student body was desperate to let loose.

Cue Eddie and his little black lunchbox.

The timing was perfect. His usual customers would have run through their stashes from before school let out, and he could even up charge a little extra when people tried to give him shit. Even then, he was still their cheapest option.

The extra cash would be worth having to convince Wayne to drop him off, still without his van. If he played his cards right, his haul from the party might be enough that he could finally take his van into the shop and stop having to share the pickup with his uncle.

So, perched on his usual armchair and nursing a watered-down rum and coke, Eddie pilfered out the goods. Only a few people noticed the lightly higher prices Eddie asked for, and even then, they wanted their weed more than they wanted to argue.

The house wasn’t decorated very extravagantly, so most everyone looked like everyone else in the dim light of the living room. A customer was a customer, and hard cash was hard cash.

He cleared his lunchbox just about halfway through the party, though he wasn’t sure just how much he’d made in profit. He made a point not to whip out the cash from the pocket inside his jacket with so many people around.

After that, Eddie didn’t exactly need to lurk around. He pulled out his backpack for the lunchbox, and the heavier coat he’d laid on the chair’s arm next to him.

One last unlucky customer sidled up to him.

“Hey, Munson,” Steve said, standing there in a trademark striped polo and dark jeans.

“Hey,” Eddie said back, settling his jacket over his front. He gave a strained smile. “Uh, I’m all out for the night. Sorry.”

Steve hadn’t always bought from Eddie, and he never seemed to mind when Eddie sold at his parties. But he rarely bought by himself, usually serving as the bank from which his friends funded their drug habits.

“No, I was actually wondering if I could ask you something.” Steve rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze. “Upstairs, if that’s alright? Alone?”

This was a bad idea. It was one thing for Steve to associate with him in the anonymity of the crowded mall, but there were only certain thoughts that went through people’s minds when Steve Harrington took people upstairs toward his bedroom.

And Eddie was not one of those people.

More like the opposite.

“Five minutes,” Steve promised. “I’ll even walk you out.”

“Not necessary, Harrington.” Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped past Steve, his beeline for the stairs serving as his answer to Steve.

They weaved past the drunk and/or high partygoers lining the stairs. With Eddie going first, he assumed that the strange looks he was getting was less than he if he’d been following Steve.

Who knew who had seen him go straight into the King’s bedroom.

He took a place in the center of the room, hands tucked firmly in his jacket pockets and backpack on his shoulder. Steve closed the door behind him, but he didn’t notice Eddie’s highly-raised brows, instead heading straight for his dresser.

Steve picked up a wide, white box and turned, holding it straight out toward Eddie.

“I didn’t know we were doing a gift exchange,” Eddie said.

“It’s just…something I thought you’d like.” Steve shrugged one shoulder, still holding the box. “I don’t expect, like, reciprocation or anything.”

Eddie peered at the top of the box, where a line of blue text spelled out ‘Bloomingdale’s.’ Eddie leveled his gaze at Steve, but all he got in return was seeing Steve nervously bite at his lower lip.

Eddie took the box.

He heard Steve swallow hard as Eddie worked off the fitted cardboard lid, taking it before Eddie had to ask. Letting Eddie see the garment inside in all its surprising glory.

“It’s—”

“They had one in black, like you’d said.” Steve pointed to the gift, as if Eddie couldn’t see exactly what he was holding.

It was the jacket from that day at the mall. Stiff, because it was new, but clean denim with bright silver buttons on the breast pockets and down the front. The only difference: black, instead of blue.

Eddie dragged his hand across the fabric, remembering how warm the one he’d tried on had been. The warmth that came from nicely made stuff.

“You actually remembered that?” he said.

Steve fucking shrugged again, like he just went around remembering random bits of trivia from people he should never be associating with, much less buying Christmas presents.

The worst thing? Eddie wanted to keep it.

It would be a lot harder for Steve to try and take the gift back if Eddie had it safely in his own closet. Refusing the gift meant Steve could just return it.

Was Eddie supposed to refuse it?

He knew one thing for sure.

Steve Harrington was confusing the hell out of him.

“I’m planning another party. For New Year’s,” Steve said, breaking up the silence of Eddie’s indecision. His hand still on the jacket, Eddie looked him, mouth surely hanging open. Steve pursed his mouth, seemingly unsure of his own words. “If you want to plan…to be there.”

Eddie would have been there regardless. Didn’t usually get an invite to these things.

He narrowed his eyes toward Steve, who he was sure hadn’t not looked nervous since he first walked up to Eddie in the living room.

“I’ll think about it,” he said slowly. He lifted the jacket from the box, officially accepting the gift and tossed the bottom part onto Steve’s bed. As he headed for the door, he added, “And, thank you. For the jacket.”

“Don’t mention it."

The Party

tags: major character death, angst, grief, healing, Eddie POV, stobin

word count: 692

The Party throws a party.

for @stobinmonth prompt: Steve and Robin die

They don't talk as much anymore. Ten years ago, things were different-- he would hear from the East Coast gang once a month and at least one of the Cali group was always hanging around the house, shoe rack overflowing in the front hall.

Eddie gets it. That's why he's so grateful when they can all get together like this, everyone under the same roof, just like Steve and Robin always wanted.

It's the anniversary of their death today. They were barely 50 when the two of them left the house for work and never came back. Time has healed the very worst of the loss for Eddie, but it stings him sometimes when he isn't expecting it. He can't imagine ever living through this day alone.

The shoes are piled up around the shoe rack, all different shapes and sizes and styles. The children are playing a video game in the living room. There's a loud ruckus going on in the kitchen over the margarita recipe. He already knows what he'll hear if he walks in. Steve's disciples will bray on about adding jalapeno in his honor. Robin's group will defend her lasting belief that jalapenos have no place in a beverage. They'll get nowhere until Lucas breaks and makes a second pitcher.

Eddie slips upstairs to collect the decorations. He should have done this before they all arrived, but he was busy. Okay. He was wallowing, but you would too sometimes if your best friends had been dead for ten years.

There's the string of letters that spells out their names. The giant blown up posters of the worst pictures of them he could find. A box of random shit he keeps firmly shut every day but this one.

When he comes back down, they're all in the living room cheering on the kids. And Mike, who has commandeered one of the tiny controller things. It seems like he's losing to his own son, who looks about as smug and shit-eating as Mike always had at his age.

They all help him hang the names and the posters, laughing as they do. The box takes its place of honor on the coffee table for anyone to open and sift through if they want to. It's always El who dives in first, somehow unafraid to face her grief.

They spend the day and half the night together. The older children go upstairs to watch a horror movie when it gets late while the youngest (a mop-headed Henderson) falls asleep half on top of his mother. There's a plush alligator wrapped in his lanky arms.

"He should keep that," Eddie says. The words come off his tongue more easily than he feels they should. He fights the urge to snatch them back.

Suzie and Dustin stare at him. "Are you sure?"

"It's just collecting dust in that box. Robin would want him to play with it instead." The fact that it's true makes the idea of it leaving the house a tiny bit more bearable.

Dustin sniffles, his eyes suddenly wet. "He never got to meet them, you know. It kills me sometimes."

Suzie pats his left hand, Max grabs his right. "He knows them, honey," his wife tells him. "Why do you think he knows every single story in that box? Why do you think he loves coming over here to be with everyone each year? That's Steve and Robin, babe. They're still here."

Eddie finds himself joining the waterworks that spring up after that, everyone grabbing a tissue from the table to wipe at their eyes or blow their nose.

She's right, he knows. Steve and Robin are here every year when the people they loved the most come together to talk about them. To complain about how annoying they were in life and in death. I mean, who lives through five separate otherworldly monster attacks and then dies in a ten car pile-up? It's absurd.

But he knows this party, these people all laughing together, is everything Steve and Robin would have wanted.

Eddie slowly collects the items from around the room and closes the box for another year.

If the internet wasn’t anonymous anymore i would stop writing/posting fic and a part of my soul would die. I don’t want to post fic under my real name i don’t wish to be perceived i wish to be known on an incredibly deep level without something superficial like my name attached. Writing fic is like stripping naked but leaving your face out of the shot

people will do/say the kindest thing you’ve ever witnessed then be like Sorry if that’s weird :(

The first time Wayne meets Steve Harrington, he is nine years old and it's Career Day.

Every year a bunch of people crowd into the gym to tell the kids what they do for a living. This year, Wayne drew the short straw and was sent to represent the plant he works at.

He wasn't expecting his measly poster board to attract a lot of attention compared to the other booths with their models and hangouts. So, it's a little surprising when a kid with big eyes and wild hair marches straight up to him and asks, "What do you do?"

"Plant work."

The kid tilted his head, "Like a gardener?"

"More like an electrician."

The kid stood up a little straighter. His eyes went a little wider the way that his nephew's eyes do when he was interested in something, "Like lightbulbs and wires?"

"Yeah," Wayne answered, and then was immediately assaulted by a series of questions.

The questions were specific like the kid had read a book on electrical work but hadn't quite wrapped his head around it. It made Wayne think of Eddie, many miles away with Al, and all his many weird special interests. He smiled but then the kid asked, "But what if you can't turn the electricity off first? Will you die? I'm Steve, by the way."

"Hi, Steve," Wayne said and then made it very clear, "You should not be messing with any wires without adult supervision. It's very dangerous and you can get hurt."

Steve just huffed at that and then ran off when he saw Mr. Hagan at his booth. He was giving out toothbrushes.

Wayne doesn't think much of that kid after he leaves the school. He doesn't have much reason to until there's a loud insistent knocking on his front door an hour after he got off shift a couple days later.

"...What are you doing here?"

"Hi, I'm Steve. We met before..." The kid said, fidgeting when Wayne just stared at him bewildered. "I asked Mrs. Byers at Melvards where you live. I see you there sometimes."

Wayne raised an eyebrow and Steve rushed, "I need a grown up with super-vision."

This was how Wayne found himself on Saturday morning in the front hall of the painfully empty Harrington household. Steve was beckoning him along and showing him a burnt outlet. He gave Wayne a very serious look, "I need help fixing it."

"Why don't you wait until your parents get back from...?"

"No!" Steve snapped at him. "I'm in charge! Dad said that I have to take care of the house and, and-"

"I don't think he was referring to something like this, kid."

"Yes, he was!" Steve insisted. "Cause I - 'Cause I told him that the lights were flickering when Mama called and he said to figure it out so. So, I got you. That's deli-gate-tion."

And that was how Wayne found himself standing in the Harrington basement with a flashlight and a kid with a death grip on his pant leg. Wayne was looking at the marks on the breaker box where the kid clearly tried to pry it open with a screwdriver when Steve tugged on his leg, "Can you see inside it with your super vision?"

Jesus, Wayne thought and then dedicated the rest of his day to showing this kid exactly why he should not be messing around with electrical wires and maybe. Just maybe, inspiring a future electrician.