Steve’s Stranger Things
a love for found family, weird friends and monsters.
Multiship!
(Open, Unmoderated)
Random works
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something good can work by griesly for MysteriousMidnight
Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
26 Jan 2025
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Summary
Stranded in Chicago during a blizzard, Eddie falls hard and fast for a complete stranger with something to hide. Both from vastly different worlds, something between them could never work…could it?
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(Listen. Stevie wasn’t really a religious person. She went to church on Christmas and Easter like the rest of the affluent Christian assholes in their small town, but she wasn’t one for weekly service or reading the bible. She didn’t even technically get her first communion or whatever; her parents only cared about going to church when it suited their social or political motivations.
She wasn’t really one for prayer either; it didn’t seem to help when there was a monster clawing its way out of the Byers’ wall, no matter how many times she repeated "dear God please please PLEASE" as she smashed a baseball bat into the monster’s face. And yeah, sure, people talked about making deals with the devil or walking with angels, and it wasn’t uncommon to hear that someone’s second cousin made a deal they couldn’t pay or won the approval of an angel or whatever, but she’d never really been one to try to tempt fate in that way.
But as this demon smiled at her boys, Stevie Harrington prayed, and she prayed hard.
And something listened.)
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Wouldn’t it be hilarious if Steve was just naturally amazing at DND?
Like he can see the strategy clear as day and can’t understand why the other players are taking so long to decide on their next move. He’s never caught by surprise by the story. He built his nearly flawless absolute weapon of a character in less than twenty minutes.
Eddie fucking hates it but oh boy does it turn him on
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Steve rails Eddie while talking about D&D
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Who has the goddamn nerve to say "I'll be dead by morning so I'm gonna make you my last will and testament, baby," kiss Steve, then run head first into the chaos?
Only Eddie freaking Munson.
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“Legolas’s hair is never described properly in the books,” Steve thinks aloud after putting the seven down after moving a three to an open spot he hadn’t seen. “He’s mostly described as being dressed in green and brown, and yeah, Lucas is right, his head was described as dark, like, once but it was night so most of their heads would be dark. Not to mention,” he continues, blissfully unaware of the silence that’s fallen since he started talking, “there’s the whole continuity thing about the different types of elves and their hair color. Like, Galadriel’s type of elves were meant to be blonde but Elrond’s were meant to be dark hair? Plus there’s the fact that Arwen’s hair is black –”
Steve suddenly realizes that the sound of teenagers arguing is gone. He looks up from his game to find the entire room staring at him, ranging from awe (Dustin) to disbelief (Mike) to something that makes Steve think of girls in high school adjusting their shirts so that he could see them almost flashing him (Eddie.) “Oh,” Steve says.
Random bookmarks
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Nancy inhaled slowly as she took a meaningful step towards him. Steve's eyes flickered back over to her instinctively, and he got a firsthand view of how her face had crumpled, eyes wide and shining and worried. "Steve," Nancy said, slow, gentle, quiet, like she was trying to calm a cornered wild animal. "None of us said those things."
Steve's mouth opened, words piling on the tip of his tongue: what, so I was just hallucinating, then? he wanted to ask, nearly did ask, and then he realized—heart stopping in his chest and the floor very suddenly feeling like it had been ripped out beneath him—that was exactly what was happening.
Steve's jaw shut with a click.
"Oh," Steve breathed shakily. Oh, fuck.
Vecna curses Steve. As you could imagine, it isn't a very good time.
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“What in the world are you doing here?” he then asks, when he got his voice back and Steve, now kneeling on the ground sorting through the dirty laundry he brought, just shoots him a look.
“Uhh…laundry?” He looks a little lost, as if he doesn’t really understand the question.
“Um, yes, I can see that,” Eddie replies, shutting his book, “but why is Steve Harrington doing laundry…here? At a laundromat?”
Steve frowns and turns completely around, giving Eddie his full attention now. “Well, Eddie Munson” he says, putting emphasis on it, as if to prove Eddie’s not the only one who knows full names around here. “There’s a very simple answer to that. I don’t have a washing machine…but I like to wear clean clothes. You know?”
or: It’s laundry day. Eddie runs into Steve Harrington. Something’s not adding up.
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“There anything I can do for you, man?” he asked, and Billy could see slow recognition fill Steve's eyes, the second he put Billy’s face together with the man who stood in front of him, taller and possibly broader than he was as a teenager, with hair cut short and shoulders squared. But Billy’s grin was the same. His leather jacket was the same. When Billy ran his tongue over his teeth, stared Steve down, he felt some of that fire he had felt then, wasn’t sure if he liked it.
“No,” Steve said.
“What?” Billy asked. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“Exactly,” Steve said, snapping the laptop shut. If Billy looked closely, he could make out a scar creeping out of Harrington’s hairline, the exact kind of scar a kitchen plate would leave.
“Isn’t this a tattoo shop?” Billy waved his hand around. “Don’t you take walk-ins?”
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Steve hesitates a second before sliding closer to Eddie and putting his head on his chest. Eddie’s arms go around Steve immediately.
“You’re safe here,” Eddie tells him softly.
And as Steve’s eyelids get heavy, he thinks he may just believe him.
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“Trick you into what?” He was losing his patience. “Where is Max? Is she hurt?”
“Dustin, look at him. His canines aren’t out, his pupils aren’t dilated, he’s not posturing.” He tried to argue with the other boy. “You can’t…” Harrington held Dustin’s bat for a second, stopping him from charging. “You can’t smell her?”
Billy narrowed his eyes, trying to understand it. “I only smell distress.” He said. “I was home and suddenly I had this urge to come here. I know she’s in here, Harrington, is she hurt?”