I Just Really Love The Visual Image Of Steve At A Corroded Coffin Concert At The Hideaway But In Full

So... I'm writing a fic. It's been sitting on my drafts for over six months, that's why I think it's time to post it even though I barely have anything more written.

Maybe now that it's published I'll have more motivation, anyways; here it is:

Erlking. / (ˈɜːlˌkɪŋ) / noun. German myth: a malevolent spirit who carries children off to death.

Jonathan just wanted to find his brother and was looking wherever he could, and if 'wherever' meant Harrington's backyard, he would look at it.

It was just that Jonathan was expecting to find his brother. Not... King Steve and Eddie 'The Freak' Munson having a pretty enthusiastic make up session.

Or. Stranger things through out the seasons with established steddie, Steve being friends with everyone, Hopper and Wayne being surrogate fathers and death lurking at every corner of Steve's life.

Archive Warnings:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death (temporary).

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationships:

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & The Party, Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington & Everyone, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Additional Tags:

Steve Harrington-centric, Queer Steve Harrington, Queer Eddie Munson, Canon Rewrite, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Secret Relationship, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington Friendship, The Party as Family (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington Acting as The Party's Big Brother, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie MunsonProtective Wayne Munson, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, Found Family, Everyone Loves Steve Harrington, Final Boss Vecna, Death, Temporary Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Talks About Death, Body Horror, Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Gratuitous use of italics, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Tag – Freeform.

Hero Steve

I saw in a tiktok with those tumblr post on them talking about world building, specifically, the lenguage; and it got me thinking about how in this isekai au the other world speaks a lot of other lenguages, and even if Steve has the cheat of an ability that makes him able to understand any idiom, well, i like to think he picks up some things.

Like the use of differents suffix (i don't know any other way to call them) when counting things, like, if they're people they use one, if they're an animals or a plants they use other and if they're objects there’s a thirth one.

I think it would be good for the cliché of going undercover to some shady market where there are slaves and the people in them use the suffix for objects. Steve would be livid.

Just a thought.

Hi, I'm obsessed with the Eddie Munson Tiktok Saga. I don't know if you ever specifically said what kind of dog Ozzy is, but in my mind I always picture him as a corgi because they give epic side-eye, which I suspect is a necessary skill for Steve's dog.

I’ve always kept Ozzy’s breed vague so he can be whatever dog you’re thinking of.

The only comment I think I’ve ever made that would limit what Ozzy would look like is that Steve didn’t initially want a dog because a dark creature on all fours out of the corner of your eye could look a lot like a demo-dog.

So, Oz is probably a lighter-colored dog but I still say whatever dog you have in mind is Ozzy.

Though I do know a Corgi irl and I can see Steve doing something reckless and Ozzy looking at him like:

Look, Eddie and Hopper have this whole song and dance thing going on. They’ve been doing it for years.

Hopper is the small town cop that acts like he’s tired of Eddie’s shit but is actually secretly amused by him. Eddie is the misunderstood outcast that’s a little misguided but good at heart.

It’s their thing.

Hopper catches him doing bad shit, drives him around in the back of his truck like he’s taking him to the station. They talk. Hopper lets him go a block from Forest Hills.

That’s it. That’s the thing.

Why is Hopper suddenly spending all his ‘Eddie time’ focused on Steve Harrington and his busted up face? Why is Hopper in the parking lot of Malvald’s, giving Harrington shit for driving with a concussion when he’s said nothing about Eddie’s busted taillight?

Honestly, it’s bullshit.

“This is bullshit,” Eddie declares in the backseat of Hopper’s cruiser, windows rolled down because he smells like weed and trespassing. Eddie throws himself forward, sticking his head between the front seats like, “Why does he get to sit up front?”

“I’m not a criminal,” Harrington muttered, slouched down. “I’m a hostage. I’m being held hostage.”

“I’m being falsely accused too.”

“Neither of you are being accused of anything,” Hopper finally speaks up. “And you’re not falsely accused of anything, Munson. I saw you trespassing at Hawkins Lab with my eyes. Steve…shut up.”

“Oh, he’s ’Steve’ now but I’m just ‘Munson?’ Favoritism at its finest.”

“Dude, he doesn’t even like me,” Steve says, finally looking at Eddie. “He broke into my house and took me to get tortured.”

“I took you to get a hearing test.”

“Torture,” Steve emphasizes and then a beat later, “You still got your, uh, stuff?”

“Nah, the cop took my stash,” Eddie says but giving Steve a sign that he clearly has more on him.

“Bummer,” Steve replies and then turns back around in his seat. “You can drop Eddie off with me, Hop.”

Eddie trying to reign in the horniness when he and Steve start dating, because he knows that Steve is a bit sensitive to it after so many people only hooked up with him for meaningless sex and ran off when feelings started getting involved. Eddie doesn’t want Steve to get that impression from their relationship, not even vaguely, so he wants to take his time, really romance the socks off Harrington, before stirring anything in that direction, except it’s so hard because Steve is so unwittingly endearing at all times.

It all comes to a head when they’re laid out on the grass stargazing and Eddie says, off-handed that that night they could see Saturn with the naked eye, and Steve scrunches up his nose in that adorable way of his.

“Naked eye. It’s such a weird thing to say. Do our eyes ever really wear clothes?“

And Eddie is on him in two seconds flat with a groan.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” he admits, trailing hot kisses up and down Steve’s neck and delighting in the way the other boy shivers under him. He latches his mouth onto his favourite cluster of moles under Steve’s jaw. “You’re so adorable, I could eat you up. Fucking love the way your brain works and the things you say. Want to eat all of it, too.”

They go home that day, feeling distinctly more uncomfortable and sticky in their jeans than when they arrived and with purpling love bites decorating their skin.

Eddie no longer worries about rushing after that night.

steve harrington with robin

video with the sound it’s based on a full below

Original post date: August 17 2022

Original caption: roof cuddles

my comfort characters for real

Hide Your Heart pt. 5

Part Five of my Steve has bad parents au, this is going to be the second to last chapter sadly

CW: physical abuse, use of the f-slur once and use of the word queer as a slur

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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“Oh don’t let me interrupt you and whatever girlfriend is on the other line.” His father sneered, “must be pretty special to throw around words like that.”

He hated when his father was drunk, all formality was swept from his demeanor, leaving nothing but casual cruelty. All bared teeth and dangerously swaying steps, unstable. Steve didn’t know which of his carefully crafted responses would set him off. 

Steve knew what happened next couldn’t be more than four or five seconds but time slowed down around him. He heard Eddie’s worried, very distinctly male, ‘Stevie?’ from the phone distantly, like it was coming from another room—another world. Both his and his father’s eyes dropped to the hanging phone. Steve had half a second to think up frantic excuses before his stool was tipping over, dragging him with it to the ground with a resounding crack. His father reached for the phone only to slam it against the wall with enough force to crack the plastic.

“Who was that?” He practically screamed, “Didn’t sound like no girl to me!”

Maybe you’d know if you didn’t smash the phone, Steve wanted to retort but he was being dragged up and into the cold metal of the fridge by his shirt before he could open his mouth.

“I asked you a question, boy!” A jab to his jaw, it didn’t hold much power but it would leave a bruise.

“No one!” One of the only people who cares about me, one of the only people who can stand to be around me. “He was—he wasn’t—”

His father flicked a hand across his face, knocking his head back into the fridge. The bridge of his nose burned and he knew his fathers seldom worn wedding ring had split the skin. 

“You have no business speaking that way to a boy! That is not how a Harrington bahaves!” His father spat.

“I’m sorry—! I didn’t—” Steve never got to finish his sentence, a fist slamming into his face, catching his nose and lip, stopping him before he could get another word out. He choked on the gush of blood that ran down his upper lip and filled his mouth.

His mother chose that moment to rush into the kitchen, right as his head started spinning, “RICHARD!” She gasped, “What—?!”

Steve’s father released his shirt with a shove, throwing him into the cabinet where he stumbled to the floor, rubbing his back against the bruise forming from the handle.

His mother hadn’t stopped yelling at his father, grabbing his arm and pulling him back, “What on earth has gotten into you?”

Don’t act like you don’t know, Steve so desperately wanted to say, don’t act like we didn’t both know this was coming. He could do nothing more than fight the stinging in his eyes, knowing if he cried it would only enrage his father further. He could only tip his head back and try to breathe through his bloody nose and mouth. 

“I didn’t raise no faggot!” His father boomed, “What would your mother think?” He jeered.

I know, Steve thought, I know for all she used to love me that this is too much. And he did know, this was the one thing that would sever whatever connection they had left.

“Why would you ever say something like that, Richard?” His mother turned to him, though, with eyes almost pleading as they locked on his, “Steven, honey, whatever this is I’m sure it’s a big misunderstanding.”

Apparently that was what did it for Steve, hearing his mother so quick to dismiss him, so quick to brush past all the abuse, now physical. 

He pushed himself up, shaking his head, “You don’t know that.” He mumbled, “You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

Steve hadn’t meant to yell, hadn’t meant to say anything at all really but once the words were out there was nothing he could do to shut up. He’d opened a vein and everything that had kept him going was spilling out with the blood on his face.

 “You don’t know who my friends are, you don’t know that I can’t sleep alone anymore or that I can’t stand the empty silence in this goddamn house because you weren’t there! You couldn’t be bothered to—I was dying in an overrun hospital, beside my unconscious best friends and you couldn’t be bothered to show up! You never even called! You’re never here!”

“I will not be talked to like this, not by the likes of you. Get out of my house!”

The likes of you. The freaks and the disgusting disappointments.

Steve knew he was crying before he felt the angry tears burn hot streaks down his cheeks. It didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that his father’s fist clenched again, it didn’t matter that his mother was reaching for him because he was already backing out of the kitchen.

“You don’t care!” Steve croaked, wiping his nose and wincing as his hand came back slick with a fresh wave of blood, “Why don’t you care?!” He heard his voice break, felt the pressure building behind his eyes and nose. 

“Steven,” his mother reached for him again but he yanked his arm away.

“No, no, no, don't ’Steven’ me. I-do you know how shitty you are? I’ve spent the last 13 years of my life alone, wondering what I did. What I could’ve done to disappoint you when all I do is try. Wondering why you couldn’t find it in you to love your only son!” His vision was blurry with tears, breathing turned to hiccups, “I’ve done everything you wanted. I played sports I didn’t like and dated girls I didn’t know to keep up your fucking image and you still left me every single time you went on another ‘work trip’ so don’t you dare pretend to care about me now, now that I’m a fucking queer and you need to fix me!” 

He stomped out of the kitchen, grabbing and yanking on the first sweatshirt he saw hanging off of the banister at the bottom of the stairs, it was Eddie’s. Of course it was, everything in the house had shaped and molded around him because he’d come and taken up space and filled the hollow silence in Steve’s life and now his parents were back and undoing it all.

He didn’t wait for a response before he slammed the door, knowing he wouldn’t get one. He did wait, though, outside with the back of his head pressed to the door, hoping maybe his mother would go after him. Hoping she would pull him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and head, make him tea in the kitchen before sending him to bed and telling him they would talk in the morning. Tell him she was sorry and ask what he wanted to have for dinner when they invited Eddie over to meet him. She didn’t. The world stayed a bittersweet quiet.

Steve checked his pockets, cursing when he turned up with no keys. He wanted—he needed to leave as soon as possible, as fast as possible.

Steve didn’t know where he was going when he ran. He just needed to get away, sprang and bolted, all the pent up anxiety left over from the Upside Down fueling his legs. He didn’t know he was headed towards Eddie’s house until he trudged shoulder first into the Forest Hills sign, head down and arms crossed so tight around his middle he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t cut off his circulation. What if Eddie didn’t want him there? What if he was busy or just done being hidden, maybe he decided Steve wasn’t worth the trouble anymore, what if he was right— 

He was knocking on the Munson’s door, the sound echoing through his ears. It was too late to turn back now, fuck he should’ve called again. When would he have the time, between crying to getting kicked out and slamming the door?

Wayne opened the door, tired eyes taking in what Steve could only assume to be his disheveled appearance. His hair was flat and sticking to his forehead. Blood crusted under his nose, dripping down his split lip and staining his favorite sweatshirt. He would have to get it dry cleaned before he gave the wrinkled hoodie back to Eddie. He hadn’t even tied his shoes for Christ’s sake, feet shoved in hastily and tangling with the laces.

Before he can even open his mouth Wayne has a hand on his shoulder, guiding him through the door, “Let’s get you cleaned up, kid.” He sighs.

 Kid, it’s just a word but he’s tearing up again, hand pressed to his mouth to muffle the noise. Wayne calls him kid and it isn’t condescending, it isn’t spoken from a place of superiority or annoyance. Wayne calls him son and he doesn’t hear it in his fathers voice, he doesn’t hear the dripping disappointment that clings to all of his fathers words. 

He’s being walked to the kitchen and sat on a barstool. His vision’s blurred and his nose is swelling, causing the pressure behind his eyes to increase, but he could still make out the man digging around in a drawer for a wash cloth. He held it under the sink and wrapped a couple ice cubes together.

“Hold this here,” Wayne told him, pressing the makeshift ice pack into his hand and holding it to his face, “Ed’s been worried sick, practically had to tie him to his seat.” With that Wayne walked off, towards the back of the trailer, “Eddie! Get out here, would ya?” He knocked on Eddie’s bedroom door.

“Was that the door?” Eddie asked, looking around Wayne as he swung the door open.

Steve saw the moment Eddie noticed him sitting at the counter, his brows furrowed in confusion before twisting to concern.

“Steve, oh my god, are you okay?” He breathed, scrambling to the kitchen, “What happened, I tried calling again but it wouldn’t connect.”

“Yeah my father kind of smashed the phone.” Steve managed to mumble around his numbing face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie reached for his face, brushing his hair away from the damage with one hand and holding his jaw with the other, carefully avoiding his nose, “He do this too?” Eddie asked, swiping his thumb under Steve’s uninjured eye.

Steve looked away but that was all Eddie needed, “What the fuck?” He exclaimed again, at the same time Wayne scoffed out a “what kind of man—”

“It’s fine—” He started, on impulse maybe, but he didn’t even get the words out before Eddie was shaking his head.

“Don’t do that, don’t say it’s fine. You know it’s not fine. You didn’t deserve this or whatever else you’re telling yourself.”

When Steve stayed quiet Eddie spoke again, “Tell me you don’t think you deserved this?”

Uncomfortable silence blanketed the once comforting room, at least for Steve. The others must have felt it too because Wayne coughed and muttered something about finding the first aid kit before exiting the room.

“Steve—”

“Why else would he do it?” His jaw hit the hands still tilting his face up with every whispered word.

Who says I don’t? What if he’s right and I’m just a screw up? This might’ve been the final straw but Steve would never stop blaming himself for the emotions of his father. He wouldn’t stop blaming himself for the case that Tommy broke in eighth grade and the weeks he was grounded until he could pay for it. It was his fault, really, if he hadn’t been so clingy he wouldn’t have called Eddie. If he hadn’t been so selfish he never would’ve woken him up in the middle of the night and his dad wouldn’t have heard them. It was his fault for not hanging up in time and it was his fault making up some lie. He done it before, so why was this time any different? 

Uncomfortable silence blanketed the once comforting room, at least for Steve. The others must have felt it too because Wayne coughed and muttered something about finding the first aid kit before exiting the room.

“Steve—”

“Why else would he do it?” His jaw hit the hands still tilting his face up with every whispered word.

Steve may have been sheltered financially but he knew this kind of thing happened to people all the time. He knew that they didn’t deserve it and the people that did it to them had no excuse other than being horrible people but that wasn’t—this wasn’t like that. He got to live in a big house all alone for free, he got a monthly check every time his parents took a trip, they weren’t—

“Because he’s an asshole. I wish he wasn’t, baby, I wish this hadn’t happened but he’s an asshole. You didn’t deserve this.” Eddie told him again, waiting for him to repeat it.

“I didn’t deserve this.” He mumbled, like it could be true if he just said it.

“Neosporin might be expired but it’s better than nothing.” Wayne called, walking back into the room with an open fist aid kit in his hands as he rifled through it.

Steve was about to reach for the kit, already used to patching himself up after fights, when Eddie grabbed it before him.

“What are you doing?” His voice was still slightly nasally, a side effect of his clogged nose, so it came out whinier than he intended.

Eddie raised an eyebrow at him, waving the maybe expired neosporin and a q-tip as if that explained it.

“You don’t have to do that. I can do it. I’m all gross.”

“You just never let anyone take care of you, do you?” Eddie was going for a joking tone even though they both knew the truth behind the statement, “I don’t care if you’re gross.”

Up until a year ago nobody had wanted to take care of him. Nobody had offered and he was already enough of a bother, he didn’t want to cross the line. He was supposed to be the one that took care of people, that’s what he did. 

“This might sting.” Eddie told him, bringing the q-tip to his lip where it had split open, “Sorry, sorry!” He winced when Steve sucked in a sharp breath.

When everything was cleaned up he could mostly see out of his right eye, the swelling on his nose had gone down slightly and his lip stopped dripping blood. He was exhausted, he realized then after the adrenaline wore off. Sleepless nights and constant anxiety around his parents left him struggling to hold his head up. So he didn’t, he let his shoulders drop and his head fall on Eddie’s shoulder. It was a little uncomfortable, leaning his neck down to reach from where he sat on the bar stool, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“How did this happen, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, hesitant.

“I don’t…I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” The words came out muffled, his face buried in the soft fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt.

 Arms circled around his shoulders and a hand slid through his hair. His own arms wound around Eddie’s middle, rising slightly when Eddie sighed.

“I won't push but you should talk to someone. It’s not a good idea to just bottle this kind of thing up.”

“I know. I don’t want to think about it, not deal with it for a while. I’m just really tired.”

“Do you want to lay down?” Eddie asked stepping back to see his face

He just nodded, already sliding off the stool when he caught Eddie’s expression, “What?”

“We may have to reapply the neosporin. It got a little…” He made a smudging gesture against his own face and Steve groaned, already wiping his face with the washcloth.

After fixing his face again he was being guided to the couch, tucked under an arm. Someone threw a blanket across them before settling down on the other side. The tv was playing some rerun of a sitcom Steve thinks Dustin likes. Maybe it was the background noise or the hand running up and down his back comfortingly under his sweatshirt, maybe it was the familiar smell of the trailer—woody, homey—or fact that he was curled up, squished between two people who actually cared about him, but he found himself drifting off. He felt his head drop onto Eddie’s shoulder as the arms around him shifted to hold him closer. 

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I love continuing the age old tradition of naming his dad Richard. Shout out to my Richard’s

Fun fact: I struggled to write this chapter so much, the writers block hit hard man

Tag list of two: @wrenisfangirling @disrespectedgoatman

Ok, ok, I know this is pedantic, but in Stranger Things fanfictions when Eddie is selling weed and they give absolutely outlandish prices, not just for the 80s but for today too, it makes me laugh and disengage with the narrative.

Below the cut is some information that will help you write about Eddie selling weed. I've been around stoner culture for over 20 years at this point so feel free to ask questions.

Eddie is NOT charging $25 for a joint in 1986. Eddie would not be charging more than a few dollars at most for a joint in 1986 since you could get an ounce for $100 or less back then. An ounce makes about 56 joints of about half gram size. Now blunts, on the other hand, would be a little more expensive as they contain more weed, and you could get about 28 blunts of about a gram each. There are 28.35g in an ounce but most stoners just say 28g to an ounce.

So, he'd charge $2-3 a joint, and $4-5 a blunt, depending on his own markup.

A joint is rolled in white rolling papers, kinda like the thin sheets of a bible or like those oil blotting papers for makeup. Job or Raw are popular brand options.

A blunt is rolled in brown cigarillo paper, sometimes mixed with tobacco but not always. Think Swisher Sweets or Dutch Masters or Zigzag...you can Google those if you need.

Weed, by itself, is usually sold by quarter or half or full ounces but can also be sold by the gram. Usually, it costs just a bit more to buy by the gram because it's more work for the dealer. So, Eddie would have to be somewhat good at math and doing math on the fly. He'd also have a scale to measure it out with.

Weed is sold in a variety of containers, but the most common is cheap sandwich baggies. The 100 for $1 ones. Usually twisted and tied with a knot. You can also find dealers who use shopping bags, jars, paper towels and more depending on what they have on hand. From what we see in the show, Eddie uses cheap sandwich bags.

Eddie also wouldn't be selling high quality weed. He's probably selling "mid" or mid-grade weed. He might on occasion sell dirt/ditch weed, which is lower quality usually with seeds and stems instead of just bud/flower. He would probably not have access to loud/high tier weed. However, Argyle would, being from California, which was at the time, and remains, a stoner's paradise.

Ok, I'm going to end this here but if you have any questions please ask! Accurate fanfiction scratches my ND brain.