Hey! Welcome in weary traveler! Please, pull up a seat and make yourself at home! You can call me Lilac. I’ll be the curator of your experience here in this little neck of the woods. I mostly keep to myself, but I love talking to people! If you ever need anything, a friendly ear or a shoulder to lean on, just drop me a line! I reblog all sorts of things. Like a dragon, I like to collect and show off pretty things. That’s basically it. A little boring to the average traveler but it’s my little form of happy. I do hope you enjoy your stay! ♡
Rules for your stay here:
In this little neck of the woods I believe in ship and let ship. I may not support nor like the ship but I do believe people should do what makes them happy. But, please, if you don't like a ship that's mentioned here, just walk away. With that being said, I won't stand for intolerance. And I do mean I will not stand for any intolerance. This means racism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, ableism, sexism, you get the picture. Hate in general will not be accepted here. I'm too old for that shit. So, don't even bother. You'll just be straight up blocked. One last note before I wrap this up. This is an 18+ zone. Minors DNI. You will be blocked IMMEDIATELY. Other than that, this is a safe space for anyone and everyone.
My Writing: 📖
"But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer." ~ Samwise Gamgee
"No. Wait. Come back here. There is NO ask game! Imma turn off anon, and — and they're gone."
"Who are you yelling at, Eddie?"
"Hmm? Oh. The anon emoji ghost. I've broken the forth wall. Trying to keep the Inspector from freaking out."
Steve rolls his eyes.
"Well. Noble or whatever. But we're gonna be late."
Eddie glances at the wall behind my head, annoyed that I've taken all of his 'watch Steve primp his hair' time. But he smiles at Steve.
"Oh shit. You're right. Can I wear this?"
Steve doesn't look amused. "Your robe?" he deadpans.
"It's obviously my Obi-Wan costume, Steven."
Steve folds his arms, stares Eddie down. It's impressive. Not many can Hold Munson's gaze that long while being smirked at.
"Can I wear my Ewok costume?" he asks finally.
Eddie's eyes cut nervously to me and he mutters, "....No. That's for the bedroom. You know that."
"Well. You have your answer then, don't you, sweetheart," Steve says, turning away and grabbing his keys.
"But fireworks are for nerds! I want to dress like a nerd—and, he's gone, too. Do you see what I have to put up with, Inspector? We're going to fireworks. Fireworks. I hate loud noises. What? No. What does metal have to do with anything?"
He runs up the stairs to change and I decide it's my own fault for asking for help with this.
"No. Wait. Come back here. There is NO ask game! Imma turn off anon, and — and they're gone."
"Who are you yelling at, Eddie?"
"Hmm? Oh. The anon emoji ghost. I've broken the forth wall. Trying to keep the Inspector from freaking out."
Steve rolls his eyes.
"Well. Noble or whatever. But we're gonna be late."
Eddie glances at the wall behind my head, annoyed that I've taken all of his 'watch Steve primp his hair' time. But he smiles at Steve.
"Oh shit. You're right. Can I wear this?"
Steve doesn't look amused. "Your robe?" he deadpans.
"It's obviously my Obi-Wan costume, Steven."
Steve folds his arms, stares Eddie down. It's impressive. Not many can Hold Munson's gaze that long while being smirked at.
"Can I wear my Ewok costume?" he asks finally.
Eddie's eyes cut nervously to me and he mutters, "....No. That's for the bedroom. You know that."
"Well. You have your answer then, don't you, sweetheart," Steve says, turning away and grabbing his keys.
"But fireworks are for nerds! I want to dress like a nerd—and, he's gone, too. Do you see what I have to put up with, Inspector? We're going to fireworks. Fireworks. I hate loud noises. What? No. What does metal have to do with anything?"
He runs up the stairs to change and I decide it's my own fault for asking for help with this.
Steve asking Eddie to spar/wrestle with him while fully expecting them to fuck at the end because the locker room taught him that’s how guys show interest. Meanwhile halfway through Eddie’s like. Why is he hard.
Steve had a plan. And yeah, he’d had this plan for weeks, but whatever. He’s going to do it this time. He’s no chicken. He’s decided he’s not letting his…shall we say, hesitation. Get in his way this time. Not today. Not while he’s somehow managed to corner Eddie, alone, at the lake, on the hottest day of the summer so far. Not while Eddie has been in fucking swim trunks and a t-shirt all day. A t-shirt that’s obviously ancient and too small and torn in places that keep making Steve’s mouth water. Like under the left armpit. Or the mouth-sized hole on his right shoulder.
Steve isn’t stupid. He knew that this shirt would probably not make most people’s attention wander. Can admit that the tiny sliver of hair that is revealed every time Eddie’s arms go above his head is probably not enticing enough for this inability to act that he’s been dealing with for the last hour. But that’s the entire point, isn’t it? He knows what’s happening here. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been attracted to a dude. He can handle this. Queue the fucking plan, god dammit.
The plan was simple; it was tried and true. It had always worked during his locker-room trysts. The hookups he’d managed all the way through high school with no one any the wiser. This plan had landed him blow jobs, hand jobs, and frotting (and everything in between) for four years without even creating the whisper of drama or rumours. Because The Plan was usually foolproof, easy to execute, and easy to flee from.
He’d attempted several other things first, just to get Eddie to understand the goal. He was pretty sure that he didn’t want the locker room version of Eddie. Well. No. He wanted that. He just wanted…the rest of it too. Confusingly. So he’d done his level best. Had tried almost every other thing in the Steve Harrington playbook. But nothing seemed to work. Eddie seemed incapable of wanting Steve in return. And most sane people would have given up by now. He would probably have given up by now.
Except.
Every time he catches Eddie staring at him when he thinks Steve isn’t looking, there’s such a hunger in those stupidly large brown eyes that Steve’s stomach melts to his feet. When Eddie bumps into his shoulder to make some sort of punchline land, Steve is not imagining that lingering touch and the heat between them. He isn’t.
At least. He doesn’t think so.
He physically shook himself off to get his head back in the fucking game, which earned him a little quirked smile and a puzzled expression that Steve really could have lived off of for the next five years if given half a chance.
Eddie’s hair was still damp, though he’d pulled it out of the ponytail it had been in in a futile effort to keep it somewhat dry, and now the ringlets that were forming at the base of his neck were so much tighter than the rest of his curls. His shirt was back on because they’d eaten a literal picnic he’d brought, full of juice boxes and poptarts and homemade crustless sandwiches that he’d produced from a cooler bag after they’d finally gotten out of the lake.
It was infuriating. Eddie Munson was fucking infuriating. He was hilarious and confusing, equal parts exhausting and addictive; he was hot, but such a dork, and he didn’t seem to know that either thing was true. And Steve had never, literally ever, wanted anyone so bad.
He shoved Eddie in the shoulder. Part one, complete. Steve laughed as Eddie shoved him back.
“Hey,” Steve said, rough and low. “Bet I could take you.”
Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, a grin spreading slow across his face like he’d just been handed something he didn’t know he wanted. “Take me where, Harrington?”
“In a fight. A real one.” Steve rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. Showed off a little, maybe. He’d been doing that a lot lately and he was starting to think it might be a problem. “You and me. Right here. No rules.”
“Okay, first of all, there are always rules—”
“No rules,” Steve repeated, and shoved him a third time, which was probably pushing it, but Eddie just crumpled a bit and laughed, and that laugh did something stupid to Steve’s chest cavity.
Eddie looked him up and down in a way that was probably meant to be sizing him up for a fight and was absolutely not doing that. This time, when Steve checked him, he put his weight into it, catching Eddie off-balance enough that he fell to the side, bare feet kicking up sand. Eddie’s eyes went wide for a second. He was surprised, maybe, but not angry, and then that grin was back, the one that split his face in half and made Steve’s chest do something embarrassing.
“Oh, you wanna go, Harrington?” Eddie announced, standing quickly, nimbly.
“Yeah,” Steve said, and his voice came out lower than he meant it to, quieter. “Yeah, I wanna go.”
He didn’t wait for Eddie to process that. He leapt up and lunged.
It was sloppy. He was out of practice, and this wasn’t high school; he quickly realized that wrestling in the rocky sand was nothing like the mats in the gym, or even the pavement of the parking lot, but the basic mechanics of a friendly grapple were the same. Get a hand on the shoulder, hook a leg, drive forward. Eddie went down with a surprised grunt, and Steve landed half on top of him, one leg between both of his. Steve grinned and offered Eddie as he helped him up.
“Round two,” Steve teased, backing up with his hands raised. His breathing was uneven and way more laboured than it should be based on so little exertion.
They went at each other again, and this time, the bout lasted longer, their arms tangled and connected, scrabbling and grabbing. Steve got an arm around Eddie’s waist and hauled him sideways. Eddie’s elbow caught him in the ribs; not hard, but enough to make him hiss. But then they were both laughing, that wheezing, breathless laugh that meant they were having too much fun to actually fight properly. They went down together again, a tangle of limbs and sand and damp skin.
Eddie ended up on top this time, one knee in the sand beside Steve’s hip, both hands planted on Steve’s chest like he was about to push himself up. He didn’t push himself up. He stayed there, breathing hard, and Steve could feel the heat of his palms through the thin cotton of his own shirt, could feel the weight of him, and his brain short-circuited for a second.
Because Eddie was heavy. In a good way. In a way that made Steve’s whole body go stupid and warm.
“Yield,” Eddie said, and Steve snorted.
Steve got a grip on Eddie’s wrist, twisted it behind his back, and for one perfect second Eddie was pressed flush against his chest, all damp heat and the smell of lake water and that weird smoky sandalwood shit he wore. Steve’s chin brushed the top of Eddie’s head, and he felt, more than heard, the little hitch in Eddie’s breath. Then Eddie was gone, rolling off him with a huff and flopping onto his back in the sand, arms flung wide. Steve lay there for a second, staring at the sky, his whole body buzzing like he’d stuck his finger in an outlet.
“Jesus Christ, Harrington,” Eddie panted. “You fight dirty.”
Steve propped himself up on his elbows. Eddie’s shirt had ridden up to his ribs, and there was sand stuck to the damp skin of his stomach, and Steve’s mouth went dry. “Yeah. That’s the point.”
“Of course it is.” Eddie turned his head, and his hair was a disaster, sand caught in the curls, and he was smiling that stupid crooked smile, and Steve’s chest did the embarrassing thing again. “Round three?”
Steve’s heart hammered. Round three was where it usually happened in the locker room. Round three was where someone’s hand slipped lower, where the pretense fell off, and they stopped pretending the fight was for anything except getting each other off. Steve inhaled sharply, noticing all of a sudden how out of his depths he was. This was not a locker room, and Eddie wasn’t Tommy fucking Hagan.
And Steve, in his stupid short shorts, was decidedly hard. He’d noticed, obviously. Somewhere between the scent of Eddie on top of him and the sudden loss of contact, the blood had drained from his face. And desperately migrated south. He’d be embarrassed if this hadn’t been the whole plan. And he was going to follow through if it was the last thing he did.
“Round three,” he murmured, rolling with the intention of getting the drop on Munson.
But he didn’t, because Eddie was already pushed up on one arm, studying him. Studying all of him. Eddie’s gaze traveled downward, halting somewhere around Steve’s midsection. Steve felt his face flush hot under the scrutiny, but he didn’t break eye contact. This was it. This was the moment where Eddie would either laugh or—
“You’re hard,” Eddie said, not laughing. Not moving either. Just stating it like he was commenting on the weather.
Steve’s mouth opened, then closed. His carefully constructed plan didn’t account for Eddie just...saying it. Out loud. So Eddie.
“Yeah,” he managed, because what else was there to do? Deny it? With the evidence right there, straining against his shorts?
“You jocks. I knew there was something off about you,” Eddie said, his tone teasing, but he was also on his knees now, walking closer in a way that should have been hilarious but was not. “Wrestling. You could have just asked.”
Steve laughed, more air than anything else. “I’ve been trying, you dork.”
Eddie’s eyebrow arched as he settled himself on his knees, balanced on his own heels. His gaze dropped. Lingered. And Steve felt it like a physical touch, like a hand sliding down his stomach, and his whole body went tight and hot and mortified all at once.
“That so,” Eddie murmured.
And that was all Steve could take. He wanted this too badly. He pounced. He grabbed Eddie by the shoulders and pulled, and Eddie went with it like he’d been waiting, like his body had already decided before his brain caught up. They tumbled sideways into the sand, and Steve ended up half on top again, one leg slotted between Eddie’s, and Eddie made a sound, a small, punched-out noise that Steve felt in his teeth.
“Okay,” Eddie breathed, and his hands came up to Steve’s waist, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt. “Okay, yeah.”
Steve kissed him. Just leaned down and did it, no finesse, no buildup, no practiced ease; just his mouth on Eddie’s, and the taste of lake water and grape juice and Eddie's tongue. Fingers tightened on his shirt, pulling him closer, and Steve pressed into it, and Eddie’s back arched off the sand, and they were—
They were doing this. They were doing this.
Steve pulled back just a bit, waited for the panic. Waited for Eddie to tell him to go away.
Instead, Eddie keened, pulled him back. Attached himself to Steve’s neck. Steve’s brain fizzled out like a wet fuse. Eddie’s mouth was on his neck, hot and open and slightly damp, and the sound he’d made? That whimpering, desperate little noise? It was still ringing in Steve’s ears as he leaned into the touch, vibrating through his skull, settling somewhere deep in his chest where it pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
Eddie’s teeth grazed his collarbone, and Steve’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, pressing himself against Eddie’s thigh, and the friction was so good it was almost painful. He heard himself groan, felt it rumble up from somewhere in his gut, and Eddie made that sound again, muffled this time against Steve’s skin as he bucked into Steve’s leg too, making him aware suddenly that Eddie was hard too.
“Fuck,” Steve breathed, and it came out wrecked, shaky, nothing like his own voice. His hands were on Eddie’s ribs, fingers spread wide, and he could feel Eddie breathing, could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the thundering of his pulse. He was overwhelmed. The plan hadn’t ever, even in his imagination, worked. He was completely out of his depths.
As if reading his mind, Eddie chuckled, released him. He shoved Steve over so that they were lying on their stupid little blanket again, and he was winding his way down Steve’s body, roaming hands and open-mouthed kisses on skin that he released from a damp t-shirt one inch at a time.
“You gonna panic, sweetheart?” Eddie murmured as he shoved sure fingers into the band of his swim shorts. He paused as he waited for Steve to confirm, to consent, to express anything. “Steve?” Eddie insisted, his fingers pressed into Steve’s skin, rubbing circles along his hip bones.
“Please,” Steve finally managed, a breathy murmur he barely recognized. “Please.”
Eddie’s hand slid lower, and Steve’s breath hitched as those fingers shoved his shorts away and wrapped around his cock. The touch was confident, almost reverent, and Steve’s hips bucked involuntarily into the grip.
“Fuck,” Steve gasped, his head falling back against the blanket. The sky above him blurred, blue and white and too bright, too much.
Eddie’s mouth returned to his stomach, kissed along the trail of hair leading downward. Steve’s fingers tangled in Eddie’s wild curls, sand falling from them like tiny stars.
“You have no idea,” Eddie murmured against his skin, “how long I’ve wanted this.”
Steve could only groan in response, his body arching as Eddie’s tongue traced a path along his hip bone. He had some idea of how long, but this was hardly the time. The sensation was electric, overwhelming, nothing like the rushed, furtive encounters in locker rooms. He was being studied. His cock jumped at the thought, and Eddie laughed.
“Impatient,” he huffed, finally moving his mouth to ghost over the head of his dick, joining the hand that had just been lazily running up and down his shaft.
Steve’s hands moved of their own accord, holding firm onto Eddie’s hair. Something in the back of his mind wanted to grip, to guide, to hold his head. But that wasn’t now. That wasn’t this. Eddie’s tongue traced a slow, maddening path up the underside of his cock, and Steve’s fingers tightened without meaning to. The sound that escaped Eddie was somewhere between a groan and a prayer.
“You’re gonna—” Steve started, but the words dissolved as Eddie took him fully into his mouth, warm and wet and impossibly good. His hips bucked up again, and Eddie’s hand pressed firmly against his stomach, holding him down with a gentle but unmistakable authority.
Steve had done this before and had this done to him. But never like this. Never with this kind of unhurried attention, like Eddie had all the time in the world and wanted to spend every second of it right here, like Steve was something worth savouring. The thought made his chest tight in a way that had nothing to do with his arousal.
Eddie pulled back, his lips swollen and wet, and looked up at Steve through those ridiculous lashes. “Stop thinking,” he demanded.
“What?”
“Thinking too much.”
As though a switch had been turned off, Steve’s brain silenced, cut off mid-tirade. When Eddie took him back into his mouth, it was just sensation that met him. The wet heat of Eddie’s mouth, the scrape of teeth just shy of too much, the way his tongue pressed flat against the underside on every stroke; all of it bled together into something that Steve couldn’t have named if his life depended on it. His hands stayed in Eddie’s hair, just sitting there, like if he let go the whole world might spin off its axis.
Eddie’s free hand moved from Steve’s hip to his thigh, gripping, fingers pressing into the muscle, and Steve’s leg twitched under the hold. The sand was everywhere. He felt it, gritty under his shoulders, stuck to the backs of his arms, probably in his hair. And he didn’t care. Couldn’t have cared less if the entire town of Hawkins had decided to have a picnic three feet away.
The rhythm changed. Slowed. Eddie hollowed his cheeks and sucked, and Steve’s back arched off the blanket. Eddie hummed around him, and the vibration travelled up Steve’s spine.
“Eddie,” he groaned. His voice broke on the name, shattered into something unrecognizable. His hips jerked upward, chasing the sensation as Eddie took him deeper, swallowing around him, and Steve saw stars.
“Cocky,” Steve repeated, his voice still wrecked. “Really?”
The orgasm hit him as if a live wire had been dropped into standing water, unexpected despite everything leading to this moment. His whole body seized, muscles locking as pleasure ripped through him, the riptide pulling him under from the ankles, sudden and total and without mercy. He came back to himself in bits and pieces. He finally noticed that Eddie had collapsed beside him and was actually giggling like a maniac.
“I should,” Steve gestured, trying to drag himself from the sand, trying to reciprocate.
Eddie’s laugh gained momentum, and he rolled over to throw an arm over Steve’s wrecked torso. “Didn’t think you’d heard me, Stevie boy. I came already. Down there. Surprised me, to be honest. You were pretty gone by then, and the sounds you made. Jesus. I swear it’s usually a bit harder than that to get me off, so don’t get…um. Cocky.”
Steve snorted and rolled his eyes, but the warmth spreading through his chest had nothing to do with the summer sun. Eddie’s arm felt like it belonged there, heavy and grounding against his skin as he let his breath slow further, as he returned to himself, to the insane disconnect between this man’s dweebiness and his beauty. He was, unfortunately, intoxicated.
“What? I had to.”
Eddie’s grin was unrepentant, his eyes half-lidded and satisfied. Sand clung to his cheek where it had pressed against Steve’s chest, and Steve had the sudden, overwhelming urge to brush it away. So he did.
His fingers moved slowly, almost reverent, across the curve of Eddie’s cheekbone. Eddie’s breath caught, and his eyes widened just slightly before softening again. The moment stretched between them, fragile and new and terrifying in its simplicity.
“So,” Eddie said eventually, his voice lower than usual. “The wrestling thing. That’s how you usually...”
Steve’s hand stilled on Eddie’s face. “Usually what?”
“Get guys to...” Eddie started.
“Let’s just not, okay. I’m an idiot. I’m…not sorry, but—”
“I want you to know that you are stuck with me now. Okay?”
“Pssh,” Steve murmured as he flipped them over. He rolled on top of him, letting his weight collapse as he cupped Eddie’s cheek again, forcing their eyes to connect down to the soul. “Yeah, Eds. Obviously. I yield.”
Why doesn't anyone ever draw old Steddie? I want grandpa's yellow sweater and pappy's thread worn metal tees. I want eyerolling grandchildren while their granddads go on about the "war" no one else remembers.
Use this base and add characters that you kin/like/relate to from literally ANY fandom
heres mine!
yes its just stranger things and dead poets society hehe, i have more characters but only 8 slots 😔
tags: @deadpoetdisaster @pjo-tvs-version @stargazingthemoooon @goatedgoatwithahat @buckleybeat @gr1ll3d-ch33s3 @artsy1reese @sophieophie26 @miwiheroes @gloriouslygone @glitteringonion @chocolateandfictionaddiction and +anyone else who wants to join! (Srry if i forgot to tag someone/ tagged smn who didnt want to be tagged)
@unusualeducation @aceofprocrastination @karnak-the-novelty-machine @frankenstiensleftpant @fairy-girls-gardenworld @queerbookbitch @beanscool +any one else
For the uncultered moots ~ (Left to right top to bottom): Jo March/Little Women, Neil Perry/Dead Poets Society, Merlin/BBC Merlin, Georgia Warr/Loveless, Moxie Mallahan/All The Wrong Questions, Duncan Quagmire/A Series of Unfortunate Events, Aziraphale/Good Omens (no I haven’t finished it but I am him and he is me), Gerard Pitts/Dead Poets Society
Characters in no particular order: Elphaba (Wicked) ,, Jinx (Arcane) ,, Sam Winchester (Supernatural) ,, Charlie Kelmekis (The Perks Of Being A Wallflower) ,, James Wilson (House) ,, Todd Anderson (Dead Poets Society) ,, Claude Hooper Bukowski (Hair the musical) ,, Johnny Cade (The Outsiders)
Tags: @graverula @quantumm76 @mochi-munch @pickledangel212 @columbiastapshoes + open tags bc im lazy,,
I genuinely forgot to do this ok <- VROOO I WROTE THAT IN APRIL ITS JUST BEEN SITTING MY DRAFTS LMAO
Okay i did it finallys
Bet bet bet bet (i'll probably change it is is HORRIBLY bad quality but whatever)
@birdstanley @dyinginmybed @ilov3octupus @ziggykatzexual @crepemew + anyone i forgot + open tags
sry I've been really behind on tag games lately :/
really dragged out the old fandoms for this one, also me? Identifying with the alien characters who struggle to seem themselves as human (cuz they're not)? Never
@bylerbean @flickergatedaughter @galacticinquisitorpsion @halflitpages @heyimcelery @ilovebylerandstonathan @iloverobinbyckley @mikeandwillsweddingofficiant @michaelqueerlerslipstares @missesfloridaa @nicointhecloset @pewe7777 @ronancepilled @sourcarmellia @sootstar22 @youfoundheavenn @whylee-wheeler +open tags and everyone I forgot (sorry if I tagged anyone who already did it or was tagged already)
there's not a character in this world that i relate to more than i do abed nadir (just know that mike's also in here, but the version of him i know true and deep in my heart and soul)
@willthefart @willthezombieboy @mikewheelercoded @reneewhy1 @i-like-gay-books @bobokahn @skeletonkittycastspells + uhhh anyone who sees this (no pressure, obvi)
i made a rule for myself to make it harder that i could only have one character from each media (counting the barbie cinematic universe as one piece of media). this was hard! i realized that about half of my favorite characters are characters that i think are just like me fr but the other half are not like me almost at all! these are the ones that are me, take notes.
These are my actual kids, like seriously this is my family that I love very much 😪❤️🩹
(I chose one from each of my fav series/movies, honorable mention to anne, will byers, tinn, ahn suho, jane hopper, yok and ayan, i love them sm 😪 i wish I could add like 20 characters instead)
Tagging @awfulbells @ab0utellie @diannedecomposed @sweetcreatureeternal @sunchildsatoru @shartweasel + anyone who wants to join!! ☆
hello thank you for the tag!!!! i'm sorry this took so long, i've been a tad bit busy :p
heaviest on tao xu & daria my twins . honorable mention to someone who isn't on here (I wish we could put like 100 people I swear) is cameron frye from ferris buellers day off- me and him are like 🤞
@ziggyzoomer @helooksliketherealthing @mylifedependsoncoffee @flickergatedaughter @vinylfawn @faceofadaffodil @dessasink @rylandgraceisace @looneyloon @phoebebyers + anyone else who wants to join!!! <3
Tagging @blushingsastiel @clownifornian @scoops-aboy86 @fuji09 @somnidasha @thiamsxbitch @maxity @absurddino @honestlydarkprincess @strawberrygrapesandcherry and anyone else who wants to do it!
There once was a boy who was born at the heart of a flower blossom. He remains soft and bright and delicate for many years, though the world tries to toughen him so many times that he bears scars only others see. The boy doesn't feel them himself. He is too busy with the joy, the fantasy, the love the world has to offer. He is a jester, and though they try to make him a fool, he remains cunning and wise instead. Refuses to be manipulated into anger.
The jester does not believe himself to be brave; he knows he is the foil to the knight. He knows his weakness well, does not face battle or challenge villainy. He acts in selfish ways, seeks revelry before revenge. He does not vanquish foes, but will, when the mood strikes him, turn them into friends.
As a Jester, Eddie often fails. As a knight, Steve literally never does. It has created an imbalance in their worlds. Eddie is, himself, the effigy he seeks to burn; Steve's target is the world.
And yet, somehow, they arrive at the same place.
Steve looks at Eddie and sees someone fearless. A man who says whatever he wants, wears whatever he wants, loves whatever he wants. Someone who walks into rooms already rejected by them and laughs before they can throw the first stone.
Eddie looks at Steve and sees someone invincible. A man who never hesitates. Who always knows what the right thing is. Who plants his feet and stands his ground even when monsters rise from beneath it.
They are both wrong.
Steve saves the world because he cannot imagine turning his back on it. Eddie survives it because he cannot imagine letting it make him cruel. Steve's courage is born from fear. Eddie's softness is born from strength. The knight charges because he cannot bear to lose. The jester forgives because he has already lost so much.
The knight and the jester are meant to move in opposite directions. One charges toward danger with a sword. The other dances away from it with a joke sharp enough to draw blood without anyone realizing they've been cut.
But Steve, as he wins every battle, becomes convinced that victory is his responsibility. The world places more and more weight into his hands, and because he can carry it, he does. Because he does, they give him more. The endless circle hurts.
Eddie fails spectacularly and often. He loses jobs. Loses opportunities. There are arguments he should have won and people he should have kept. He trips over his own feet, speaks before thinking, and trusts those who have not earned it.
But failure slides off him strangely. Not because it doesn't hurt. Because every time the world says, Become harder, Eddie says, No.
Every scar becomes another place where flowers grow. Every disappointment becomes another story. Every heartbreak becomes another song.
The knight wages war against dragons and comes back scarred and broken.
The jester invites them to sit beside the fire, and sometimes the dragons accept and tell their own tales.
That is why Steve cannot stop staring at him.
Because Steve has spent his entire life learning how to defeat monsters.
And Eddie?
Eddie has somehow learned how to love them.
Even the ones inside himself.
Especially those.
Perhaps that is why the knight keeps returning to the jester's side. Not because he needs saving. But because, after years spent trying to conquer the world, he meets a man who refuses to conquer anything at all.
A man born from a flower blossom.
A man who remains soft.
A man who remains bright.
A man who remains, despite every reasonable expectation, utterly impossible to destroy.
@lilac--sugar made a dancing pigeon emoji in our discord. And no. I don't know why they put up with me either.
I fixed the post with their edit because they are significantly more hilarious than me and the video has hit its full potential through their dedicated brilliance.
Eddie had promised that it would only be a last resort. They weren't exactly overflowing with an abundance of good parents around them as examples, and frankly, Eddie wasn't sure he counted her among them. Still, they'd never tried to keep a very tiny human being alive, and he'd pinned her number to the corkboard with a sigh. Teenagers, he told Steve repeatedly, were not the same as infants. And although he understood arguments that their teenagers were a special kind of stupid, who had actually been very hard to keep alive, Eddie maintained they should have a backup plan available in case something got tricky when the baby arrived. He was, after all, only three months old. They might need help.
And here they were. At last resort. And earlier than he'd expected.
He sighed and dialed, hoping that Steve wouldn't hear the phone from the other room where he was in the rocking chair beside the crib.
"Help," he said.
"I'll be there in six minutes."
When Joyce arrived, she shoved a glass casserole dish into his hands and immediately went to the kitchen to wash her hands. She looked at Eddie expectantly.
"He won't sleep," Eddie said simply.
She smiled. "Well, babies not sleeping is—"
"No. The baby sleeps fine. It's Steve. Steve won't sleep."
Confusingly, Joyce smiled wider and patted him on the shoulder. "Ah," she said. "The firstborn problem. Where is he?"
"Nursery," Eddie sighed.
"On it. Why don't you go grab a shower?"
The suggestion was gentle, but Eddie still chuckled. He definitely needed that, even he could admit it. When he reemerged from the bathroom in a waft of cinnamon-scented soap, he found Steve, sprawled fully clothed on top of the duvet.
"Joyce said she'll watch him," Steve murmured, exhausted.
Eddie frowned. He moved to Steve and started pulling layers of clothing off of him. He offered Steve the soft grey tee he preferred to sleep in, but let him keep his boxers. It felt like more work than it was worth to get him into different pants. He was disappointed; he'd been hoping that Joyce would offer a better solution than someone else pointlessly watching the baby, but. Still. Sleep was sleep.
They both fell asleep immediately; Eddie dreamed of a unicorn that fed off the native honeysuckle in their yard. Just as the Protect Unicorns Society was telling him the house was going to be taken over by the government, Eddie awoke to a sharp cry, followed by the sound of Steve bolting out of bed.
Eddie followed at a more sedate pace, curious and also alarmed by Steve's movement. In the nursery, Joyce stood in the middle of the room, holding the baby, a bottle of formula in one hand as she rocked.
"Oh, look at that. Less than two minutes and you're both here," she teased with a grin. "It's almost like you're going to hear your child no matter how tired you are. Eddie, I declare you on shift. Steve, go back to bed. He's safe. He's got two great dads. Shifts, boys. You'll survive this."
Eddie took the baby and smiled at Steve. Joyce put both her hands on Steve's shoulders and squeezed.
"It's hard. It's scary. It never gets less hard or less scary," she said gently. "But you've got this. Don't make Eddie call me again. He hated it."
Steve looked at Eddie over Joyce's head and gave him a small smile at the sight of the baby, curled into his chest, quietly calming down. She patted him once more and left.
"We've got this?" Steve asked quietly.
Eddie grinned. "We've got this.”
He shifted the baby to a more comfortable position. The tiny weight in his arms felt both impossibly fragile and remarkably sturdy. He watched Steve's shoulders drop, the tension visibly draining away.
"Joyce is right about shifts, you know," Eddie continued, keeping his voice low and soothing as much for Steve as for the baby.
Steve ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "But you have that commission due next week. You need sleep, too."
"Hey, I've pulled all-nighters for way less important reasons." Eddie smiled, carefully settling into the rocking chair. "Remember when I stayed up three nights straight to finish that D&D campaign for the kids?"
"That was different. This is…" Steve gestured vaguely at the baby, who had started to drift off again, tiny fingers curling around Eddie's shirt.
"This is everything," Eddie finished for him. “This is everything."
Chapter Five: The way you know me, love me, pull me through. (COMPLETED WORK and Available on AO3 for all. 💜)
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson
Rating: E (18+ Minors Do Not Interact!)
Wordcount: 7k This chapter. (29.7k for the now completed fic.)
Status: Completed Work. All chapters are now available to read.
Story Summery: They don't understand each other. Classic really. He's a jock. He's a freak. He’s privileged. He’s grown up having to make do. They're just from two different worlds that simply don't understand the other. Except, when he looks at him like that. When he touches him like that. When commands can be so... freeing. But can they really get past their pride? Their prejudice? Everything just feels so right but the words, the actions tied to them, just don't make sense.
Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are two idiots in a peapod. They misunderstand each other because they think they're from two different worlds. What they don't realize is that they're really just two pieces of their own puzzle they've been missing.
Chapter Excerpt:
“I always wanted to put a lock of my own up there. I always thought that someday, I’d find myself a man worth wanting to tie myself to forever.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s too bad—”
“Oh, Cinnamon, you know me,” Eddie says, his crooked grin glinting in the moonlight. “’Too bad’ doesn’t stop me.”
“But what if the cops…?”
“Cinnamon, do you hear yourself?” Eddie chuckles.
Steve knows he sounds ridiculous. Eddie is a lot of things, but a law-abiding citizen is not one of them. He just waits, knowing exactly what is about to happen when Eddie pulls out a lock from his inner breast pocket. It’s simple, shiny and black, but etched into it is ‘S + E’, with a heart around it, clearly in Eddie’s handwriting. He’d obviously been thinking about this long enough that he took the time to etch the metal by hand.
“Where are you going to put it?” Steve asks, his voice dropping to a murmur as he looks along the railing next to them.
“Well, for that, you’ll need a boost.”
When Steve looks back, he sees Eddie looking up. He points to a particular bar.
“If it’s out of sight from the public, from the city, well, then no one will ever take it down. No one can break our love,” he explains.
“Eddie, I don’t know,” Steve murmurs, hesitant.
Eddie slips his hand back into Steve’s squeezes his fingers gently.
“Look at me, Stevie,” he says and Steve does, “hold my gaze.”
Eddie gets down, down on one knee, dark eyes shining in the moonlight.
“Be my Sugar, Stevie. If you want this, be my Sugar,” he whispers. He slides the lock into Steve’s hand and then creates a cradle with his hands over his knee.
Steve turns the lock over in his hand. He looks back at Eddie.
“What are you thinking?” Eddie asks.
Steve settles his right foot into the cradle of Eddie’s hands, “Green.”
“Green?”
“Very green,” Steve nods.
Eddie grins and hoists him up, Steve grasping on to the metal rod. He hooks the lock onto it, clasping it and tucking it out of sight. Eddie carefully settles him down, kisses him softly.
Co-Writer: @the-inspector-jones It was so nice we decided to do it twice! They are seriously my muse and my champion. Without them I would be so lost! Who knows, if they can put up with me maybe we’ll have even more to come!
Watching: Teen Wolf rewatch (fun and great)🐺 and When Life Gives You Tangerines (I’m fucking devastated) 🍊
Reading: Fanfics 🙂↕️
Last Google Search: Is kale safe for dogs? (It is in small quantities) 🐶
Currently Working On: Getting my life together (unfortunately for me I’m not talented enough to write or draw for y’all 🤠)
Tea or Coffee: Iced Coffee ☕️
Current Wallpaper: Found it on Pinterest 📌
Tagging @leahpearls @scoops-aboy86 @prongsievans @royal-callahxn @sorilovesthiam @leoluser12345 @fuji09 @fullpriceforlatepizza @the-inspector-jones @runninriot and anyone else who wants to do it!
Thanks for the tag, @th30ra3k3n! I love tag games!
Last Song: Don't Take the Money, Bleachers
Color: Green (any green, but preferably emerald 💚
Watching: Walking Dead (I realized I never finished it)
Reading: A Little Life (and regretting my choices), Artemis, Zombies vs. Unicorns, and The Book of Dragons. Yes, I read four books at once and also read fic leave me alone 😭
Last Google Search: Weather (listen, I am old, ok. The one before that was 'are there Baltimore Orioles where I live').
Currently Working On: a fake dating au, a mystery work, and the second half of buckle 👀
Tea or Coffee: Coffe in the morning, tea at night
Current Wallpaper: Walt. I changed my profile pic and I missed him. And a tufted titmouse, aka, best bird ever.
Last Song: Outro (AKA: I'm a Fool to Want You) by M. Ward
Color: Lilac!
Watching: Just finished Star Wars Episode: IV-VI. I’m currently making my way through Star Wars Episode I-III.
Reading: A bunch of different Steddie Fics tbh. And a boat load of articles for classes.
Last Google Search: “Playback Speed Calculator” Listen… I’m taking 3 summer classes to graduate and they’re each 6 weeks condensed. (While still working a job) If I can watch a lecture on 3x speed, I will.
Currently Working On: Finishing up the final chapter of ‘I've Always Known There Was Someone Like You’. I’ve also got a Steddie pinning/yearning/longing fic in the works. And I’ve been toying with perhaps maybe possibly??? Finishing Birdsong. (Huge maybe on that one. No one hold your breath.)
Tea or Coffee: Matcha in the morning, matcha in the evening, matcha at supper time!
Current Phone Wallpaper: Just these cutie patooties I threw together. :)
Tagging: Whoever sees this on their dash and wants to play along. I tag you! Go for it! :)
You are alone? Maybe I can help you. ♡ @lilac--sugar - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
