I want to make a Stranger Things rewrite script/fanfiction and I'd like to gauge the fandom's general opinion on specific plots in the show.
I've created a Google Form. If you feel inclined, fill it out and offer your opinions on what you think could've been improved about the show in general, not just Season 5/the finale.
This is something I toyed with for a while after Season 4, but the finale really solidified it for me.
This will be a long project, because I want to actually take my time on it, but this would definitely help me navigate which direction I want to take.
For the written responses, feel free to be as detailed as you need to be! I don't mind reading long multi-paragraph rants if you feel that p
Tagging my mutuals @p0megranamanat @do-you-know-what-im-saying @thirteen-records
Read on Archive of Our Own
Rating: Explicit (Minors Do Not Interact)
Fandom: Stranger Things
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson
Tags: Transmasc Steve Harrington (bottom growth referred to as 'dick'), Dom Eddie Munson, Needy Sub Steve Harrington, oral (tm receiving), PIV sex, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, Halloween parties, costumes, dirty talk, established relationship, possessiveness, they're both total pervs for each other (it's almost endearing)
About: Eddie convinces Steve to go to a Halloween party with him in matching costumes. However, one look at that paradoxically sinful angel getup knocks Eddie's priorities in a new direction.
Notes: This is my first little ficlet on this blog and I'm really excited to post it. Be gentle, I'm rusty with my smut writing, but I really tried my best with this. Inspired by this post by thorniest-rose and the art with it, because I've been obsessed with this concept since I read that. This is imagining they got together later on and Eddie constantly tries to get him to wear the outfit again. Hope you enjoy. ♡
Tagging some of my favorite blogs and moots for visibility
@mcplestreet @chrrymunson @shieldofiron @applewillowstone @thorniest-rose @reidsbtch @inourtownofhawkins @succubusmunson and a special thanks to @whataboutthefish for beta reading and giving me so many helpful suggestions + @californiaboytoybilly for cheering me on when I was debating even posting this
Eddie hadn’t accounted for the inevitable when proposing his idea for Halloween. Going as an angel and a demon to Tommy Hagan’s party seemed like the perfect fit. It was meant to be sweet, paying homage to the beginning of their love. Instead it turned out so much better.
Over the years, he had begged Steve to wear it again. Time and time again, Steve would roll his eyes and give some excuse on why he couldn’t. He didn’t want to go into the attic to get it, it probably wouldn’t fit him anymore, he wasn’t an angel after Eddie got his hands on him.
And yet, on Halloween night, Steve stepped into their shared living room looking as jaw-dropping as the day their gazes met for the very first time.
Eddie was lured to these rocks by his beautiful siren, who was moaning so pretty for him through the gaps of the fingers he held over those plump lips as Eddie lapped up the sweet taste of his love between his thighs.
There really wasn't a point in trying to stay quiet to begin with. Everybody outside the bathroom door was in their own world, wading through a heavy blanket of fake fog as the sound of Monster Mash drowned out everyone's chatter.
But Steve had always been the type to fluster easy. It was surprising Eddie could even convince him to go through with this little escapade.
"Eddie-" Steve gasped out, squirming against his tongue with a pinched expression. The hand fell from his face, instead gripping the edge of the sink for stability.
Eddie tried not to break out in a cocky grin, ringed fingers squeezing the plush expanse of his boy's thighs. He licked a stripe upwards until his lips closed around Steve's cock, tongue swirling over the swell.
The sound it drew from Steve was dizzying on its own. Hands shot from where they gripped the porcelain Steve sat on to grab a fistful of Eddie's curls. "Ah- 'm gonna cum- Please-"
Eddie almost gave in, wanting to taste his love while he fell apart against his lips. The way Steve begged, breathy and desperate, the feeling of those soft thighs brushing against his cheeks and ears-
It took a significant amount of strength on his part to pull away, lips and chin coated with the evidence of Steve's arousal.
His angel made a pathetic sound, looking down at him with those pleading doe eyes.
Eddie tutted softly, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him off of the sink. "Gotta practice some patience, angel."
With another sharp tug, he pulled Steve impossibly closer, slotting their lips together in a filthy kiss. The heady taste of him was still coating his tongue, transferring to Steve’s as it breached the seam of his lips.
After a moment, Eddie could feel Steve's trembling hands reach for the waistband of his jeans, fumbling for the buttons.
The hands still on Steve's hips quickly flipped him around, one hand reaching out to lay flat against his back to bend him over the countertop. Eddie is met with a whimper that could drive him crazy.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it, babylove?" Eddie rasped, as he rapidly pushed his jeans and boxers just below his crotch. "Wanted to take me like the good little slut you are?"
Steve nodded weakly, cheek pressed hard against the bathroom mirror.
Eddie could be meaner. He could make Steve wait for it, beg for it. It wasn't far off from the things he'd done before for his own amusement many times before. Stevie was his favorite toy.
But tonight was a dream come true, and he wasn't going to waste it.
As swiftly as he could manage, he slipped into Steve's wet heat, barely giving him a grace period before starting to thrust roughly into him with renewed fervor.
His love was an absolute sight like this. That pretty white dress hiked up just over his ass, those damn wings shaking with every movement they made.
Suddenly there was knocking at the door, the sounds of exasperated party guests outside, demanding access to the bathroom.
But it didn't so much as make him falter. They could find a fucking bush as far as Eddie was concerned.
Steve moaned at the sound, clenching around him. A grin broke across Eddie’s face, bending forward to bracket his back. "You like that, baby? You've got an audience." He rumbled into the shell of Steve’s ear, brushing his lips against the soft skin he found there.
If the way Steve almost crumbled beneath him was any indication, his words definitely hit home.
"I bet this is what you used to imagine, right?" He egged on, quickening his pace. "Me dragging you away from your snobby friends and fucking you dumb in a dark corner. Bet that got you off, didn't it, angel?"
As the words left his tongue, Steve fell apart, leaking hole fluttering as he came around his cock. Eddie groaned, slamming into him to punctuate his appreciation. "That's it, baby- Fuck."
With quick movements, he clasped Steve's waist, feeling himself falling over the edge. He pushed his face into the freckled flesh of his angel’s shoulder as he pumped him full.
They stayed locked like that for a while, both attempting to catch their breath as they rode out their orgasms. Eddie pressed lazy kisses to Steve's fevered skin, hands that were roughly handling him only moments before, now stroking him lovingly to bring Steve back to reality.
When Steve finally managed to strain out a few words. "You're an asshole."
Eddie chuckled, wrapping his arms around Steve's torso to pull him into a standing position. "No, sweetheart. I'm a demon. Gotta act the part, remember?"
Steve's face broke out in a tired grin, leaning his head back against Eddie as he closed his eyes. "I hate you."
Eddie pressed a sweet kiss to his temple, shaking his head. "No you don't, angel."
Day Two of Cheerscoops Week 2023
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Pairing: Chrissy Cunningham/Steve Harrington
Tags: Prompts are 'childhood friends to lovers' and 'right person wrong time/place', canonical character death, implied/referenced suicidal ideation, grief and mourning, unresolved angst/no happy ending, based on the songs 'the night we met' by lord huron and 'strawberry wine' by noah kahan.
Cross-posted on Archive of Our Own
Steve's fingers flex anxiously around the stems of the bouquet in his hands, eyes trained on the tombstone like the name would somehow change if he willed it to. Like he would blink and it would be any name other than Christina Marie Cunningham.
But no trick of the light or divine miracle was going to spare him this time. He couldn't outrun this pain. There was no where to hide from it. It demanded his downfall.
With shaking hands, he places the flowers in the vase adjacent from that tombstone, fluffing them out with care and honor. All of what Chrissy deserved and more.
As he straightens, his eyes brush over the quote directly below her name. Heaven needed their angel.
His throat burns as he turns away for a moment. He regretted so many things, but what he regretted most was that he didn't say a proper goodbye. That he would never get that final closure. Would spend the rest of eternity crying for it, pleading with the sky in the hopes that anything up there would help him stop hurting.
But standing here in front of her grave, he could almost pretend she was standing in front of him. Flush and full of life, wearing a smile to rival the sun itself. How she used to laugh and reach for his arm in the process. How he always used to joke she was just using the excuse to touch him. How she would never once deny it.
Almost.
He looks around the cemetery for a moment. Empty, aside from himself and his bimmer parked a respectful distance away.
"I wanted to come sooner, but…" He trails off.
Ms. Kelley had suggested he try this. Speaking to her, that is. Something about releasing the feelings he was building up like a metaphorical dam.
The only reason he'd started going to her was because Robin was getting worried about him. It was easier to bullshit through a counseling session than have that girl knocking on his window every single night to make sure he still had a beating heart.
Not that he minded that much. He enjoyed her company, even if it was harder for them to go back to their normal after everything. But he didn't like worrying her.
And, theoretically, he could get behind the idea of speaking to the dead. He'd certainly dealt with weirder. They had fought literal monsters, talking to a pretty slab of stone should be easy.
But it wasn't, because he truly had no idea what to say to her. There was nothing he could say. He wanted to come sooner, but… what?
But I was terrified I couldn't feel anything I could feel everything I was a coward.
More silence. Even speaking five words left him slightly winded. Everything felt so tight, he was half convinced he'd snap in half like an ice sickle at the slightest wind gust. Maybe then, he'd hear her voice again.
He slips his hands into his jacket pocket to warm them. It was winter by this point, it had been several months since Vecna and it wasn't just Chrissy's body that was cold. Hawkins was blanketed in the chilling air of winter. Everything around him was dead.
Everything was dead.
His breath comes out in a visible puff of steam as he tries to collect himself, licking his cracked and slightly bleeding lips. "I hope that… you're okay. Wherever you are."
Not that he necessarily believed in an afterlife. Not before Chrissy's death, anyway. But since losing her, the idea of her just fading into nothing ripped at his chest in the dark of each night. He couldn't stomach the thought of her being anything except at peace.
"I never-" He stops himself for a moment as the tight pull of emotion tugs at his body again. "I never wanted this for you…"
He had tried so hard to keep her out of it. He had made up so many elaborate lies to keep her from knowing. The people that knew about the horrors of Hawkins had no choice but to be involved. That place wouldn't allow for anything else.
It had taken everything from him. His hope. His light. His love. It was a never-ending black hole of misery he would never be able to crawl out of as long as he was within the confines of this town.
And he wasn't sure he'd ever leave. Not anymore. Not as long as she was here.
His eyes fix on the ground, at the coarse brown grass covered in slightly frosted condensation. Was he standing over her? The thought made him sick. A lot of things made him sick nowadays. It was hard to keep food down.
The cold nips at his skin as his chin wobbles, vision clouding as fresh tears finally form after weeks of being swallowed. One by one, they fall to the ground by his shoes, onto that frosted grass where he knew she was. Where she always would be.
"I miss you." He croaks, the wetness on his face amplifying the elements. "I miss you and- And all I wanna do is talk about it with you. And you're not even- You're not even here, Chris. You're not even- fucking here-"
All at once, every emotion he had felt over the course of eight month began to bubble out of him like hot magma from the core of the earth.
He remembered her laughter. Her unending intelligence. Her love for swing sets. The way she had always always challenged him on the playground to see who could swing higher. The way she would dance anytime she heard Christmas music. Her infatuation for flowers and the changing of the seasons. The way she felt like the embodiment of every single one. The way she was in everything around him.
His face crumbled as his shoulders shook with each sob that poured out of him. Every sensation, every emotion, every memory- it was all her. He couldn't remember life without her. Was there even life without her?
With everything in him, he tries his best to push out another plead, voice desperate and broken. "Please come home…"
But he was met with silence, just the soft sound of wind brushing past the leaves of the surrounding trees.
