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afewproblems · 7 months

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Season Two Halloween AU Part Eight

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six Part Seven

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

As always, thank you thank you to the lovely Jess @strangersteddierthings for letting me brainstorm and send spoilers!

***

Eddie pulls gently on the strap of Dustin's safety goggles, trying as much as he can not to snag his curls in the process.

Almost everyone is decked out in their make-shift protective gear, with bandanas over their mouths, swim goggles --hell, even an old diving mask that Lucas found in the Byers basement. Mike won the painters mask, even though it's slightly too big on his little face.

When Eddie asks if all of this is really necessary, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike all glare ferociously at him before shouting over top of one another about how the Upside Down is toxic and that Will had been lucky last year, and to stop being an idiot.

Eddie looks to Max who shrugs and pulls down her own swimming goggles over her eyes.

"Don't look at me, I'm new here remember?" She mutters, walking towards the pile of various items the kids brought with them. She grabs a pair of rubber gloves and tosses them at Eddie who manages to catch one while the other falls limply into the dirt.

"They went in full body suits last year, on oxygen, to save Will," Dustin adds, his voice slightly muffled by the floral scarf wrapped around his face, "as little exposed skin as you can, it isn't safe".

Eddie can't help but picture the last Sci-Fi pulp story he read in a zine with government conspiracies and men in yellow suits investigating supposed 'crash sites' in the desert.

He shivers and pulls his own black bandana from his back pocket to put on.

Steve hasn't moved since they parked and hauled everything out of the van for their descent.

He sits in the sliding side door of the van with his head between his knees and the bat between his hands. Steve had insisted on coming with them, despite the fact that he'd only just managed to stop vomiting about five minutes ago and the nausea is still kicking his ass.

Stubborn idiot.

Eddie shakes his head as he turns back to Dustin to find the kid has wandered closer, standing right beside him now.

"He's dating Nancy," Dustin says quietly, tipping his head towards Steve as surreptitiously as he can.

Eddie freezes at the words and tries to keep his face blank in the way he's seen Steve do, he's not sure he's managed it but the way Dustin rolls his eyes.

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, with what he isn't sure of given the chorus of shitshitshitshitshit playing on a loop in his head.

Dustin beats him to it.

"But Mike told me they've been fighting lately, if it helps?"

Eddie just stares, his mind running a mile a minute, his eyes search Dustin's face for any hint of malice or disgust. But there's nothing.

"You don't…care?" Eddie says slowly, softly, he looks around to the other kids to see if anyone else is listening.

They all continue to argue and bicker over the equipment except for Max who has walked over to Steve to hand him a pair of rubber gloves. She leans down and tilts her head to look at Steve who still hasn't moved from his position in the van door.

Dustin shrugs, "why should I? I know what people say about it, but you protected us, you stayed," he looks at Eddie with fierce blue eyes, "bullies talk a lot of shit about other people for what they like".

"And you're not bad Eddie, you're good, just like everyone here".

Eddie blinks trying to ignore the tightness in his chest at the words and the sting behind his eyes.

'You're a good kid Ed, that's all that matters,' Wayne had told him the day he came out. 'And I'll love you no matter what'.

So that was at least two people who didn't think he was the town 'freak' -- but a stubborn image of Steve's expression that night by the pool comes to mind as he vehemently argued against being scared of Eddie during the now infamous Halloween party.

Three people then.

"If it helps, he wouldn't shut up about Dallas after he and Nance watched the Outsiders last year so," Dustin shrugs again, this time with the slightest teasing grin.

Eddie is overcome with such a strong feeling of fondness for the kid that he reaches out and pulls Dustin into a one armed hug that's really more of a headlock than anything else. Eddie takes off Dustin's hat to ruffle his hair before putting it back on and tugging it down over the kids eyes, he snorts at the squawk that Dustin makes in response.

"Dallas huh?" he says with a grin before clearing his throat, "I've always been more partial to a pretty boy myself".

He laughs as Dustin pushes him off muttering under his breath, "everyone's obsessed with relationships," which only makes Eddie laugh harder.

Maybe it's the hysteria of the situation, maybe it's the exhaustion loosely wrapping itself around his hands, but in this moment Eddie lets himself push away why they are standing in the middle of this field in the pitch dark, and lets himself reach out for what was previously impossible.

He claps Dustin on the back and tips his head towards the rest of the party getting ready.

"How distracting can you be?" Eddie asks in a low conspiratorial voice.

Dustin frowns, his eyes dart from where Max is struggling to pull on a second blue rubber glove after getting the first one on to where Steve is finally managing to sit up in the van, pulling on the gloves Max left him with, and rolls his eyes again.

"Yeah, yeah, you get five minutes," Dustin drops his voice slightly, and if it's an imitation of Eddie barking orders at the kids earlier, it's pretty good actually.

Eddie huffs and sends Dustin a wink before turning on his heel and making his way to the van.

Steve has managed to finally sit up properly and in the moonlight it appears that the green caste to his face is also gone. He looks up as Eddie approaches, and sends him a wane smile.

"How you feeling?" Eddie says softly. He crouches down on the balls of his feet so he and Steve are at eye level and reaches out for his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. It's as though a dam has burst ever since he was able to gather Steve in his arms in the van, he can't stop reaching out for him.

"Like my head has a pulse," Steve answers after a moment, "kinda how it felt after Jon cleaned my clock last year, but worse".

He shrugs and gives Eddie a small smile that stretches his split lip until a small bead of red appears, Steve winces and swipes his hand over the cut, "I'm kinda hoping it doesn't become a yearly thing, you only get so many concussions ya know?"

No Eddie doesn’t know, but he was also never a jock, dodging elbows, or balls, or apparently monsters in the woods on the regular.

He looks back at the kids, only to see Dustin pointing at the watch on his wrist; even in the dark Eddie can read Dustin's expression.

Hurry up.

Eddie swallows roughly and turns back to Steve, who doesn't move his gaze quickly enough to hide his own stare.

The wistful pinch of Steve's brow is still there, plain as day, and it cements Eddie's decision.

He leans closer, close enough that his nose is nearly touching Steve's own.

"I need to tell you something, and I need you to let me get through it because we don't have a lot of time, okay?"

Steve blinks once, his wide hazel eyes search Eddie's face as he slowly nods, his mouth opens but Eddie reaches up and presses his palm to gently cover it.

"You caught me off guard before," he whispers quickly, before Steve can move the hand on his mouth, "when you told me about your Nonna".

He sees Steve's eyes go even wider and feels him freeze under his hand, but he has to keep going.

"And I thought, you couldn't possibly be saying what I thought you'd were saying, I couldn't--"

Eddie forces himself to meet Steve's gaze this time, as though he could simply transfer his thoughts directly, save himself the embarrassment of trying to make the words come.

He takes a deep breath in, releasing it slowly through his nose.

"I couldn't let myself hope, not then".

"But when I thought you were dead on the floor, that Billy had broken you into a million pieces and we would never be able to put you back together again and I realized," Eddie moves his hand now, letting it travel along Steve's jaw, to the back of his head. He swipes his thumb along the crest of Steve's cheekbone and tries not to let the way the other man holds his breath deter him.

"That I might not get another chance to be that person your Nonna told you about, if I didn't tell you how I felt".

Steve blinks again and Eddie halts, letting go of Steve completely as he watches the wide hazel eyes grow shiny in the moonlight.

Oh fuck.

Steve's nose flares slightly with how rapidly he's breathing and his mouth opens and closes in quick succession as he seems to struggle to find the words to respond.

"I--"

"Steve! Eddie!" Mike calls out from behind them, "we are running out of time! Let's go!"

Eddie curses under his breath and whirls around; Mike stands at the edge of the cavern, his hands on his hips in a similar position to one Steve held earlier, the painter's mask pulled up to reveal the irritated frown on his face.

Dustin has his own face in his hand but looks up soon enough to offer Eddie a resigned shrug.

He catches Max watching the exchange with curious eyes, her face tilting between Eddie, Dustin, Mike, and Steve, but he can't think about that now.

Not with Steve pushing himself up from the van on unsteady legs, he brushes past Eddie, reaching up with a shaking hand to pinch his nose.

Eddie darts a hand out to catch Steve's elbow, halting his path.

Steve lets him.

Eddie takes a step closer, wracking his brain, trying to figure out what he could have said to make Steve so upset, had he read him wrong after all, had he overstepped somehow?

"Steve," he says softly, his grip on Steve's elbow is loose but steady as he pulls him closer.

Steve doesn't turn to look at Eddie but he doesn't move away either.

"What the hell is the hold up assholes!" Mike barks out again and Eddie lets himself throw a dirty glare at the kid, which Mike merely rolls his eyes at.

The attitude on these kids.

Mike does eventually turn, pulled by Dustin, back to the rope that Lucas is securing to the nearby fencepost, hopefully distracted for long enough to let Eddie figure this out.

But before he can say anything, Steve is pulling himself away from the grip on his elbow, “Eddie--”

"Please,” the word falls out of his mouth, desperate, louder than he wants, “please Steve, just, promise me we'll talk”.

Steve turns his face slightly, just enough that Eddie knows he sees him.

His eyes are no longer wet, but still red rimmed, his nose slightly pink, the same way he looked that night at the halloween party sitting on that rock in the dark.

“Okay,” Steve whispers into the night air, quickly and quietly before he presses forward.

Eddie lets him go, his empty hand drops limply at his side as he watches Steve make his way back to the kids. He snatches an unused pair of goggles from the nearly empty pile on the ground and checks the post where Lucas had secured the rope.

Eddie watches from the sidelines as Steve seamlessly moves back into Babysitter mode, and while some part of Eddie is relieved at this, he can’t help but miss the way it felt to hold Steve, to put him back together again.

Even if it was just for a moment.

Part Nine Now Up!

Tag List:

@eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @steveshairspray @hellfireone @eddielives1986 @sunswathe @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson @queenie-ofthe-void @rainbowsaw @sp0o0kylights @littlebluejane @hi-im-eff @phantypurple @just-ladyme @thoroughlycollected @justrandomfandomstm @swimmingbirdrunningrock @finntheehumaneater @dynamic-powerm@nightmareglitter @genderless-spoon @zaddipax @thebiblesays @pyrohonk @emly03 @geekymagicalpotato @sidebarre @lemon-astra @cipounette @discreetapple @starlitlakes @saphhicwitchbitch @marvel-ous-m @lingeringmirth @honorarybrit81 @bookbinderbitch @finntheehumaneater @lololol-1234 @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @monsterloverforhire @gaydrieeen @starlight-archer @homosexual-having-tea @devondespresso @rennnnon @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog

And a few people I think may be intersted!

@steddierthings @steddie-there @stevesbipanic @henderdads

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holyvirgilscriptures · 6 months

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in the springtime, in the sun (we can be alone without anyone) // a @bylerbigbang fic by holyvirgilscriptures

As the prince of a royal kingdom, Mike has duties to the Crown. One of these duties is entering an arranged marriage with Princess El of Lenora, in an attempt to foster a strong political alliance. But here's the first issue — neither of them have actually met each other.

In lieu of a formal meeting and proposal, the king and queen decide on an alternative method: commissioning the court painter, as well as the prince’s closest friend, Will Byers, to paint a portrait of Mike and have it sent to the princess. If she approves, then the courtship will henceforth commence, and their wedding will occur in the summer.

This is where the second issue arises — unbeknownst to them all, Will has been in love with the prince for years. But just like Mike, he has duties to the Crown. And just like Mike, he struggles with it more than anyone else.

coming to you on november 5th! 🦋🎨👑

here's a snippet:

#byler #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #miwip wednesday #yes i am aware it is thursday

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will80sbyers · 4 months

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Let me be me(crazy) for a second...

This was on the set of s4 and now I saw it again and like...

A class art show that's related to Will because he's the painter... S5 entrance fee...... Maybe I'm crazy but it's very convenient that the dollar sign looks like an s 😩

"Friends and family welcome" = "All friends welcome" at castle Byers

#will byers #byler #I know it's a massive reach but I see messages ok #THE ANGELS ARE TALKING TO MEEEE #no but seriously #it's like saying s5 it's Will's show

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hargrove-mayfields · 9 months

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It’s Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 1- Music

My prompt: Harringrove- Dancing to music at their wedding

-•-•-•-

In 1996, Billy and Steve get married.

They didn’t want to wait an unknown amount of time just for a legal certificate that wouldn’t mean much anyways, so they each picked a ring from one another’s jewelry boxes, bought some thrifted suit jackets, and set the date.

Mrs. Byers was more than happy to lend her back yard to the event, as long as her kids agreed to help her with the load of work setting up and decorating would create. They got help from their friends, and through the grapevine that led to Carol, a now professional interior designer, getting her hands on the theme and decorations. Control, drama, whatever, it’s all in Carol's wheelhouse, but Billy’s just grateful she involved Steve in choosing the theme.

Steve had had a stroke and lost 90% of his eyesight in the aftermath of the Starcourt attacks. In the years since it’s never returned, the old nurse's promises of magic recovery all hollow attempts at making him feel better, so it meant a lot when Carol went out of her way to get tactile decorations for Steve to enjoy in his own right.

Massive fake flowers, braille signs and table settings, even the cake is textured with sugar pearls and rolled chocolate to give Steve something to touch, a way to build his own image of his special day. The cake came courtesy of Jonathan and Tommy, a more than unlikely duo who came together for their friends, and because of their mutual artistic interests.

Nobody expected Tommy to become a baker of all things, but damn if he doesn’t make the best tres leches cake any of them had ever tried. Though to be fair, the majority of their Midwestern friend group couldn’t say they had tried one before. Argyle and Billy had bragging rights on culinary experiences growing up in a more culturally diverse region.

Jonathan on the other hand had become a painter, and done the decorations for Tommy’s cake. After all the monster encounters, flashing lights and loud sounds weren’t really his thing. Photography just wasn’t his passion anymore. Art was still a big interest of his though, and it was actually Heather who introduced painting, since she took lessons as a little kid.

Heather, who is the stand-in bridezilla. Both Billy and Steve are calm about their wedding, caring more about what it means to each other than the actual event. That isn’t that case for miss Heather Ernestine Holloway-Buckley. She wants everything to be perfect. Absolutely. Everything.

From the tablecloths being the same color as Billy’s white and gold suit jacket, to the flower petals scattered in the neatly trimmed grass matching the crown of flowers in Steve’s hair. She demands everyone get matching dresses or suits depending on their preference, so the pictures will turn out perfect. In Jonathan’s place, El takes the photos, taught by her older brother about the craft and determined to capture as many memories as possible.

The rest of the smaller details are kept secret from the boys. Things like who will officiate, the food, how the backyard will be set up, and the music are all a total surprise to keep things exciting.

With everything in place, all they need is to be there. To say their vows and dedicate the rest of their lives to the one they consider their soulmate.

But Steve is terrified. Having nightmares every night leading up to the wedding because he’s scared his blindness is going to ruin something. Even Robin, who has been with him every step of the way, has been warning him numerous times to be careful on that night.

The wedding will be by daylight, made even brighter by small candles on the tables, and fairy lights strung in the trees, but that only means Steve can see basic, blurry silhouettes. If he trips, or runs into something, or someone, on his wedding day, he’ll never live down the embarrassment.

There’s only one day left until the ceremony when he brings it up to Billy, trying to be subtle about it and failing hugely.

At the breakfast table, over pre-game chocolate chip pancakes as Billy called them, Steve asks him, “Are you nervous?”

Even at this stage, Billy gets grumpy in the mornings. He cooked breakfast, sure, but he might as well still be asleep until noon. Usually, thanks to his pain meds, he might take a few half hour power naps up until then. Still, his answer and its gravelly delivery are playful and unserious, “Nah. I’m just eager for the honeymoon stage.”

Only, Steve’s nerves are so wound up, he can’t find it charming like usual. A simple, quiet, “Oh.” is his only response.

Right away, he can tell from the shift in his partner's energy that Billy knows what that means. Some part of Steve is glad he can’t look into Billy’s face and see the pain in his features, from knowing Steve isn’t perfectly alright.

That’s something Steve forgets sometimes, that just because he can’t see someone, doesn’t mean they can’t see him. Every emotion he feels is expressed freely in the look on his face, revealing the anxiety, and the bubbling uncertainty that makes this so hard.

Billy encourages him to talk about it, “Come on, Stevie. Spill. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

Something tells Steve to lie. Maybe it’s the pressure of the wedding being just a little over twenty four hours away at this point. Probably that. His entire life he grew up thinking there was nothing more important than marriage, and now that he has the chance, he’s terrified of things going poorly. So he assures Billy, “Nothing! I get to marry you! What could be wrong?”

“Darling. I see those gears turning. You’re thinking something.” Billy sees through it. Of course he does or he wouldn’t have ever broken down Steve’s mask personality enough to one day become his husband. Billy must worry that he hasn’t done exactly that, because he asks, softer and more quivery than his other words, “Getting cold feet?”

“No! Oh, god Billy no. Never ever.” Steve promises passionately, reaching over to the spot where Billy is for his hand, the responsibility of actually placing their hands together and sharing touch placed onto Billy. Squeezing it gently so he knows he feels him, Steve tries to explain his feelings, “I just. I feel wiggly.”

“Can you tell me what wiggly means?” Billy asks, always asking questions to make sure he understands Steve’s needs enough to help. It’s no mystery why he loves him so much.

That said, it takes a moment of thinking for Steve to put it into words, “Like everything’s shaky and bad. And I’m scared and nervous. And kinda shy. But the bad kind of shy.”

“All that about the wedding?” Billy’s definitely worried about him. Scared that maybe marriage, even if it’s not technically official, is possibly too much pressure for him.

Steve eases that quiet nagging with his response, and takes the blame too, “More like about messing up the wedding.”

Trying to soothe what little tension there has become, Billy softly comforts Steve, “Honey, you’re not going to mess up. There’s no right way to get married.”

“But not everyone who gets married is blind.” Steve mumbles, and Billy realizes it’s that kind of wiggly.

Ever since losing his sight, Steve’s been a bit more quiet. It’s not like he changed, but Billy had a suspicion there was something brewing under the surface. Now that it’s been confirmed that Steves worries come from that, and since fear of the changes disability brought to their lives is something Billy is familiar with himself, he thinks he knows how to help.

“I'm in a wheelchair maybe four days a week, and the others I’m in bed. That’s not exactly typical either.” Is his choice of words.

It seems to work for a moment, since Steve relaxes a bit, but then his mind starts going again and he fishes up a new fear to bring to Billy.

“But you have special braces and stuff if you want to stand up for pictures and dancing.. I can’t just put in a new pair of eyes.” He sounds almost sad.

Billy wants to make sure he knows he doesn’t have to feel that way.

He asks, “Is that what you’re worried about? Dancing?”

Steve shrugs, still physically expressive as a habit despite his inability to see those mannerisms, and says quietly, “A little.”

Billy seems to think that’s a fixable issue, even offering up a quick solution, “Chrissy did cheer for her whole life and she’s married to a paraplegic. She can totally help us with a dance.”

“She’s also very pregnant. I don’t wanna bother-“ Steve denies right away, but Billy’s already wheeling over to the phone before he can really stop him.

“Too bad. I’m already calling her.” Billy’s tone of voice just sounds like he’s smiling mischievously, which has Steve rolling his eyes without meaning anything by it, especially when Billy greets their friend by saying, “Hey, Chris! Got a second, toots?”

•-•-•-•-•

Before Steve knows it, it’s the next day, and the time for practice is over.

Instead of a wedding march, the soft strum of an electric guitar signals Steve to come down the aisle, which is really just a bolt of soft fabric rolled out over the grass and weighed down by dollar tree candles.

He’s not sure who’s playing, but it’s sweet, the soft version of a Cinderella song Billy and Steve both love. It brings a smile to his face, but doesn’t cancel out the clammy feeling he gets when he realizes it’s time to step forward and actually walk down the aisle.

It’s only the officiant at the other end, Billy still inside getting ready for his entrance after Steve’s, so he’s not sure why he’s so scared. With Dustin and Claudia on either side of him, and a hand on the harness his guide dog wears, he should feel stable and supported.

But every step forward makes that intensity of the butterflies in his stomach only grow stronger.

Until something cuts through, the voice of the officiant;

“And here we have Groom number one. Led by the one and only, Miss Peanut Butter Cup the Beagle. She’s feisty, she’ll bite your ass, and she loves to cuddle. Sounds like a great honeymoon.”

Talking like an infomercial, or some kind of weird radio announcer, Murray fucking Bauman is the man who will marry Steve to the love of his life. At least half of his fears dissolve on the spot. This isn’t some all serious, super tense event like his biological parents would have planned for him.

This is a celebration, and all of his friends and family are going to stumble their way through it, so why shouldn’t he?

Him and his Henderson entourage keep walking to the makeshift altar, and Murray keeps talking, “Oh yeah. And the rest. You all know him, you all love him, it’s Dustin! Here to impart his uninvited wisdom unto the newlyweds. And what’s this? A Jewish mom who will adopt any roughian street kid she sees? That’s right folks, it’s Claudia Henderson, and with her she has- her newest adoptee!”

“Stefan Harrington! And today is his big day. Everybody give him a hand. He can’t see your stupid cheeseburger smiles. Give him the entrance you’d give the president if he walked past.” Murray laughs at himself in the midst of the lengthy introduction, “Actually, no. Please don’t do that. Just clap for him.”

All of this makes Steve giggle his way down the aisle, largely forgetting about his fears of ruining the ceremony. After all, with Murray in charge, there are no rules to abide by.

When he makes it to his spot, and Dustin and Claudia step away, Steve has a one-on-one with Murray, “How you doing, kid?”

Recognizing there’s no time to dive into the nuances, Steve says simply, “I’m okay.”

“Just okay? This is the real deal! You gotta be pumped!” Murray encourages him, which makes Steve remember that there’s something holding him back.

“I’m too wiggly.” He sounds defensive.

Murray on the other hand just sounds happy, and eternally positive, as he suggests, “Shake out those wiggles. C’mon, I’ll do it with you.”

Together the two of them shake and flap and wiggle, a moment that never would’ve happened without the support Steve has gotten from his family. There was a time when, although he wasn’t very good at masking, he’d have been too ashamed to openly stim in front of an entire wedding party of the most important people in his life. Now though, by the end of this, he’s giggling and smiling and having the time of his life.

Checking in again, Murray asks him, “That better?”

“A little.” Steve shrugs, struggling to assign any qualities to the big big feelings he has. Feelings are so hard right now.

He’s getting married.

“C’mon, what can I do to make it best?” Murray keeps trying, something of another parent to Steve. Even making another joke, “I mean, I can start taking my clothes off, but I don’t think Joyce would be too happy.”

A little bit haunted by that mental image, but mostly amused, Steve shakes his head, and gives his best response, “Just, can you read slowly? And not tease me so much during the real thing?”

Instantly Murray agrees lightheartedly, “A deals a deal. Smack me in the head if I screw it up, alright. This is the only time I’ll ever tell you that because I am perfect otherwise.”

It’s the guitar melody rising up that cuts off their conversation, and suddenly Steve’s heart rate is picking up again. This is really happening.

Murray puts it not so gracefully, “Oops. I’ll stop running my mouth now. Looks like your other half is coming.”

Since Steve can’t see what’s happening, Murray goes back into his narration mode, which Steve appreciates a lot.

“Coming up next folks is our half off sale. That’s right, now you can get two for the price of one. Just add a wedding band- Sold separately.” Murray jokes, earning a little scoff from Joyce, which makes Steve laugh softly.

He’s grateful for the dry, cheesy sense of humor Murray has, otherwise he might be totally panicking right now.

“What’s this? We have a flower girl, people. Leading the way is miss Chrissy with her lovely paper flower petals. Behind her, to match her developing appreciation for all things butch, Heather does not have flowers. Oh no. She has seashells. Imported from the fine beaches of the dollar store they were purchased at.”

It’s probably rude, but Steve loves the mental image it gives him. He can imagine Heather in her suit, and Chrissy in her flowy dress, decorating the aisle with delicate little pieces of Billy and Steve’s love. The best part is he can hear them laughing at the jokes about themselves, so he can imagine the smiles on their faces.

His favorite part is the next introduction, the one that refers to his culture most, “Last but not least, Jane brought some sea glass, since there will be no stomping of any glass until our two grooms get some functioning body parts. Since that will never happen, join me in telling the Jewish ancestors to suck it and deal. But not groom number two. He’s too catholic.”

The trio of groomsmaids stand off to the side, their shoes crunching on the grass, and Steve knows what that means. It means Billy is coming.

“Speaking of, and without further ado- escorted by his creepy little sibling Max, here he is. Come on down William.”

The walk is slow, with Billy using his limb braces and forearm crutches instead of his wheelchair for this special moment. Steve can be patient. He’s wanted this to happen since his third date with Billy, when he brought training treats for Peanut Butter Cup and a sensory necklace for Steve. What’s a few more minutes?

The pacing does however warrant more Murray monologuing, which is something of a treat anyways.

“Ooh, not too shabby for a man with no usable limbs. Speaking of, why exactly did we just turn the aisle into a safety hazard? Oh well. At least if he falls on his ass, he’ll look good doing it.”

The comment must remind him to give a description of Billy for his sightless groom to be, “A diamond earring, tons of mascara, way too much hairspray in that fluffy perm- I’m starting to feel underdressed.”

And then he’s there. Steve can feel his energy, the radiant, sunshiney happiness Billy always produces. Since there are no rules, he decides to reach out his palms, the sign that means he wants to hold Billy’s hands. The weight and warmth of the touch when Billy obliges adds more butterflies to Steve’s chest.

He’s smiling like an idiot, and if he had to guess, he’d say Billy probably is too.

After a few moments, they’re interrupted by Murray clearing his throat, “That’s it? No hello?”

Steve can practically hear the eye roll Billy gives as he speaks, “Hi Murray. Don’t forget this is my wedding.”

“Ohhh. And here I thought this was a bat mitzvah. Don’t panic, but I think I grabbed the wrong book.” Murray pretend-whispers, letting the imaginary tension build before he pats them both on the back, and assures, “Kidding. Sure I was the worst choice for this, I don’t know shit about romance and never will, but I can do my job.”

The guitar music ends, and the residual chattering and laughing stops too. It’s time. Steve’s hands are shaking. Billy squeezes them once reassuringly.

“Once upon a time, William Reuben Hargrove met Stefan Mihai Carson Harrington; They fought, they fucked, blah blah blah, they caught feelings- and a monster possession- Oh, whatever. Point is, they’re getting married now! Two souls united and all that jazz. So are you ready to say ‘I do?’” Murray rushes through a fake service, earning groans from much of the audience.

And from Steve, who whines, “Murrayyy!”

“Fine, fine. But you're gonna pay me after this, right? I’m a licensed therapist now. My services aren’t free anymore.” Murray snarks, totally playful and unserious.

He’s not the only one who can do sarcasm, since the entire wedding party starts to boo. Steve is pretty sure he hears Carol, his strongest advocate since they were kids, shout the loudest to, “Get on with it!”

•-•-•-•-•-•

An hour later, they were married. Mister and mister Hargrove.

In the style of a picnic of sorts, everyone had brought food to share. From Claudia’s mac n cheese, to Heather and Robins take on a vegan sushi, their newest cooking experiment, to Sue Sinclairs potato salad that she sent with Lucas even though she couldn’t be there herself- there was a little something for everyone. Steve personally loved the Zeytoon Parvardeh that Joyce had made from an old family recipe. Billy preferred the ceviche Argyle brought, so he’d fed Steve all his olives, a nice romantic moment that had Steve blushing.

By now the actual party aspect of the day has begun, after the cake had been cut and the wine poured. Joyce limited the amount of alcohol allowed to be served to two bottles, one white and one red, to respect the boundaries of those like Billy recovering among them. Tommy and Robin probably have drunk the majority of that portion, and the two of them are tipsy, pestering Eddie over at his makeshift music booth.

While all the noise and everything started picking up, Steve had settled into a little corner by himself to stay calm. He hears someone approaching by the sound of footsteps, and turns his head their way, to make sure he can hear them properly.

Turns out it’s Joyce, who enthusiastically says, “Congratulations, sweetie!”

Steve thanks her, and reaches for her hand, to make a connection that will make communication easier, “Thank you, Mrs. Byers.”

Joyce rubs his knuckles, her tone soft and kind, “I hope Murray didn’t ruin your ceremony. Would you believe me if I said that was the toned down version of his original plan?”

Steve brushes it off in stride, “Somehow, yes, but we loved it, Mrs B. Billy hasn’t laughed like that in a while.”

“I’m glad. This was your day. All about you!” Joyce enthuses, sounding a little relieved to hear her friend hadn’t messed anything up, “I bet you feel so happy!”

Steve just nods, and flaps his free hand, the words escaping him but the physicality of happiness easy to express.

“Can I hug you, sweetie?” Joyce asks, delighted by Steve’s own happiness.

Now, Steve isn’t the most hug friendly person, but today, a nice tight embrace from Joyce Byers sounds like a much needed break. A respite and a safe place.

He tells her, “Yes please.”

And so she wraps her arms around him and squeezes the life out of him, gushing, “Oooh, I’m so so proud of you! You’ve come so far!”

All Steve can say is a bashful, “Thank you, Mrs. B.”

The hug lasts maybe a few minutes, of Steve taking deep breaths of perfume and cuddling soft brown hair, just savoring the whole thing and the therapeutic effect it has on him.

But all too soon, his worst fear is reality- It’s time for his first dance with Billy.

Eddie announces it, since he’s something of the coordinator now, “Looks like it’s time for a sloooow dance. Where are my two grooms?”

Joyce sounds thrilled on the other hand, “Are you ready, dear?”

Steve physically winces, “Actually…”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll do just fine. Just breathe.” Joyce puts her hand on his back and helps him catch his breath for a second, before offering sympathetically, “He’s waiting for you, sweetie. Do you want me to walk you to him?”

Nervously, Steve nods. Earlier today, he married the love of his life. That was the easy part. Dancing in front of literally everyone he’s ever cared about is not easy.

Joyce is kind enough to walk him to Billy, leaving Peanut Butter Cup asleep under Steve’s chair. Letting him do it himself would’ve probably ended in him knocking Billy over, since his braces are all that’s holding him up. Instead he gets to settle into Billy’s embrace, with Joyce’s help to sturdy them both.

His head rested on Billy’s shoulder, and Billy’s arms around his waist, toes together, they started to get into the music.

Their dance song is fitting, a song Billy had learned marching in the streets for the rights of the disabled like them. On Being Special by Sue Napolitano. A beautiful poem all about family and love.

It sets a rhythm good for swaying, and soft little shuffles. Getting lost in it, Steve closes his eyes, blocking out what little light gets through, and lets his husband guide him. Billy knows the song by heart, and, pressing his lips to give a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead, he mumbles the lyrics against his skin.

Even though there’s a lot of their friends there, in that moment it’s just them. Center stage, dancing on scrap lauan in Mrs. Byers’ backyard to the gentle crackling and crooning of a beat up old stereo, since Eddie and the band didn’t think they could do it justice.

Not even the thunking and clacking of Billy’s hardware is enough to take anyone out of the moment. This is them. Their reality.

Their disabled love story.

Steve is thankful he had Murray and Joyce and Chrissy and Billy to ease him through the nerves that led to this very moment. He did it. He had his first dance, with the love of his life, on his wedding day. Steve is maybe crying happy tears by the time it’s over, but he can hear from the general sniffles that a few other people are too.

When the song ends, there’s a beat of silence where nobody really knows what to do next. Steve can tell just from the energy shift that they’re wondering if they should help the newlyweds off the dance floor. But Steve doesn’t want to let go yet, and since they don’t move, that must be a cue for some folks to join them in dancing.

Or, that’s what Tommy interprets it to mean, because he’s stomping over towards them and shouting, “Let’s fucking goooo!!”

Steve guesses he dragged Carol along too, because she’s shriek-laughing his name, “Tomàs!!”

Their boldness inspires other couples to join in. Jonathan and Argyle, Chrissy and Eddie and their little two year old, Heather and Robin, even Hopper and Joyce, after a little coercion to get the grumpy old cop off his ass to have some fun too. The kids all come up together, leaving just a few stragglers, one being Murray. His dance partner of choice happens to be miss Peanut Butter Cup, bribed with a few blueberries he’d grabbed from the snack table.

They’re all together, and they’re all happy. So fucking happy.

•-•-•

A few songs in, Billy taps on Steve’s cheek, after giving him a small little kiss, to alert him to a conversation.

He asks softly, “Sweetheart, Patrick is dancing all by himself. Haven’t talked to him in a good while either. D’you think I could-“

But Steve doesn’t even make him finish that justification. He’s overdue for a break, and loves their friends just as much as Billy, so he’d actually prefer it if he did go to Patrick for a bit.

He tells his husband, “You don’t have to ask, babe. Go see your friend.”

“You’re sure?” Billy checks in again.

Steve nods, and gives him another small kiss to seal the deal, “I need a rest anyways. Big feelings.”

It’s still hesitantly that Billy pulls away, and only after a tight embrace, but he lets Steve go get his dog off of Murray and take his seat back in the corner. On his way away, he hears Billy call playfully, “Hey, McKinney! Get your ass over here!”

•-•-•-•-•

Out of nowhere, Steve hears the tapping of little feet running right towards him.

He’s already deduced who it is, based on the fact that there’s only one little tyke here, but the bubbly excited voice that falls to him gives it away even more, “Teevee!!”

Little Jackson is an outgoing boy, his enthusiasm curbed by nothing. Except maybe bumble bees, since he’s afraid of those, but there’s no buzzing demons around, so he’s all giggles as he pulls on Steve’s jacket sleeve.

On instinct, Steve picks him up, and blows a raspberry on the toddlers chubby little cheek, “Jackie!! There’s my favorite little groomsman!”

Jackson kicks his legs as Steve tips him onto his back, tickling his tummy and laughing along with him. Chrissy tells him he’s not as open with other people, but Steve has always been good with kids, so maybe it’s true.

Something about their pure hearts reminds him of who he’s always wanted to be. Their wonder and their fascination with everything just lifts his heart up. And at the moment, gives him the courage to get back on his feet and have some more fun.

Together with little Jackson, he twirls and spins, earning an endless stream of giggles from his friends’ baby boy.

“Wheee, you like to dance, huh?” Steve asks him, and immediately gets a very enthusiastic response.

“Yah!!!” Jackson even claps his little hands, a stim he’s clearly picked up from Eddie. Their little one is autistic and has adhd just like his dad, which probably also has to do with why he loves Steve so much.

And also why he has an abrupt energy crash and falls asleep without warning, his curly head laying on Steve’s shoulder, drooling down his back. They got their pictures already, so he doesn’t mind the mess. He just quietly takes Jackson back to a seat and cradles him softly, listening to the ongoing party and reveling in that bliss.

At some point, Billy snuck up on him, announcing his presence with a soft pet name, “Sweetheart.”

“Yes, my love?” Steve hums, turning his head in the general direction of Billy.

He’s not expecting what Billy is about to say.

“What’s the next step after marriage?”

Because of how random it seems, Steve has to think about what he’s asking, taking a moment before he remembers the old rhyme from childhood, “Uh-uh. No baby carriages yet, bubs. Give it at least a week.”

Billy is persistent, if only playfully, suggesting, “There’s always the honeymoon.”

Patting little Jackson’s back, Steve just responds vaguely, “We’ll see.”

All of it is lighthearted teasing, and a little bit of their classic pigtail pulling. They’ll talk about their future seriously when they’re ready.

That’s something Steve loves the most about Billy. He always considers him first, not societal conventions or outrageous expectations. Just Steve, and what he wants or feels comfortable with. Soulmates, he’d decided.

After all, internalized ableism be damned, what could be better than marrying his soulmate?

~~~~~~~~

Hi all! If you’ve read this far, please don’t click off!

As both mod and contributor to this event, Ive been inspired to use my fics to boost charities that aid the disabled community!

For this day, I’ve chosen the Friends of Disabled Adults and Children.

This is a charity that has a mission of “[assisting] individuals with disabilities… [by providing] free or low-cost wheelchairs and other home medical equipment.” This includes cars, tubs, power chairs, stairlifts, and more.

While founded as a religious organization, they serve all disabled community members with no limitations, and have a board of 35 members that work together to provide the best care.

They accept online donations, mail-in checks, purchases from their thrift store, or donations of gently used mobility equipment.

Friends of Disabled Adults and Children is based in Tucker, Georgia and can provide assistance to disabled individuals within a 25 mile radius of their facility. On their website, you can find statewide partners of FODAC for more resources.

Here is a link to their site: https://fodac.org

#disabledbillyandsteveweek #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #disabled steve harrington #disabled billy hargrove #jewish steve harrington #there’s so many other characters I’m not gonna tag them all but know it features lots of background ships and characters #my writing #ej writer

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bylerbigbang · 6 months

Text

in the springtime, in the sun (we can be alone without anyone)

Fic by @holyvirgilscriptures | Art by @oceanic-sunsets

Teen | 23k words

“It is my duty to serve the Royal Family,” he recites.

“Thank you, William,” the queen says, and this time her smile looks the slightest bit more genuine. “And you should know that your services are for the interest of love once more.”

Love? He blinks, waiting for her to explain the commission that she wants.

“After all,” she says lightly, “it is now Michael’s turn to be married.”

[or: Mike is the prince of a royal kingdom, and his parents want to arrange his marriage to Princess El. Because the two have yet to meet, the king and queen commission the court painter, as well as the prince’s closest friend, Will Byers, to paint a portrait of Mike and have it sent to the princess. Unbeknownst to them all, Will has been in love with the prince for years.]

No warnings apply.

Read on Ao3 | View Art

Read an excerpt below:

When Will actually starts painting, he can’t help but feel butterflies in his stomach. He assumes that it’s the nerves that arise in these one-of-a-kind situations. He dips his brush into a palette filled with an array of colors that mirror the complexity of his emotions. Each stroke of his brush is imbued with care, as if he's tracing the contours of Mike’s soul. The colors blend and swirl, filling up the spaces between each penciled line.

As he paints, Will’s focus stops on just replicating Mike’s physical features. Mike is sitting stone-still in front of him, face left in an unchangeable blankness. It’s the easiest face to bear when one is being painted for hours on end. But every time Will blinks, he sees a new vision in front of him – not just the color of the lips, irises, or hairstyle – but rather the curve of a smile, the spark in his eyes, the way his curls catch the light. These details are all brought to life with a delicate touch.

The lines he creates are more than just pigments on canvas; they are a manifestation of the profound connection he shares with his muse.

In everyday conversation, Will has to make sure his adoration doesn’t bleed through everything he does. With this? With painting his love? It seems like a Herculean task. Such as, for instance: when he looks up to glance at Mike, he notices new things again and again. It’s the byproduct of painting the one you are the most devoted to. He notices how Mike’s cheeks seem to have this perpetual blush to them, how his lips part and his eyebrows raise ever so slightly when Will turns his intense gaze on him.

Time seems to suspend as Will loses himself in his work. The world has seemed to stop around him, like everything hangs on a perfect string.

Read more on Ao3 >

#byler #byler big bang #bbb23 #in the springtime in the sun #fic promo #masterpost #byler fanfiction #byler fanart

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oceanic-sunsets · 6 months

Text

in the springtime, in the sun (we can be alone without anyone)

by @holyvirgilscriptures !!!

Summary:

“It is my duty to serve the Royal Family,” he recites.

“Thank you, William,” the queen says, and this time her smile looks the slightest bit more genuine. “And you should know that your services are for the interest of love once more.”

Love? He blinks, waiting for her to explain the commission that she wants.

“After all,” she says lightly, “it is now Michael’s turn to be married.”

[or: As the prince of a royal kingdom, Mike has duties to the Crown. One of these duties is entering an arranged marriage with Princess El of Lenora, in an attempt to foster a strong political alliance. Because the two have yet to meet, the king and queen decide to the court painter, as well as the prince’s closest friend, Will Byers, to paint a portrait of Mike and have it sent to the princess. Unbeknownst to them all, Will has been in love with the prince for years.]

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #byler fic #art by me!!!#fic by holyvirgilscriptures

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heartbreak-sandwich · 6 months

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Lex! I loved your boyfriend hcs, I'd love to hear your headcanons on the guys as fathers 👀

omg Joz yes!! This is such a cute idea, thank you 🥰 ✨ The ST boys as fathers ✨

💕STEVE HARRINGTON is a superdad. He loves friendly competition with his (many - five, to be exact) children to see who can throw something the farthest, who can get to the car the fastest, and who can finish their desert first. - Bedtime stories are crowded with all of them on the same bed, huddled around Steve as he does voices for all of the characters. - Food is always creative and messy, and Steve encourages curiosity in every way. "Don't play with your food" is not a rule to be found in the Harrington household. - The rowdy bunch attends each other sporting events, band concerts, and school plays in a pack which is forever recognizable because of course their outfits are color coordinated.

💕BILLY HARGROVE loves his little girl more than anything else in this world. He is very protective, letting her roam at a safe distance, and worries more than he lets on about her safety and emotional wellbeing, and whatever she wants, he teaches her how to earn. - His little angel is a superfan of his metal music, so of course he picks up an extra shift every other weekend to pay for her drumming lessons. Every time a friend comes to the house while she's practicing, they comment on the noise, and all Billy says is, "I know. She's gonna be a star someday," with the proudest smile on his face. - Every time something comes up while Billy is spending time with his daughter, he tells whoever he's talking to, "Hang on. I have to ask the boss," and turns to his daughter and whispers in her ear, her face becoming very serious before she gives a quiet answer back to him. - He teaches her how to fix her own things -- the car, the toilet, the legos she knocked over on accident. He never wants her to have to rely on anyone else to solve her problems, and he teaches her to be self sufficient along with his support.

💕ARGYLE is full of childlike wonder at all times, so it's no surprise that he is the fun dad. He takes his twin boys on adventures every chance they get, and he encourages their creativity every step of the way. One of his boys is an avid painter while the other is a violinist. The walls inside their home are adorned with murals always being worked on inspired by ambient strings in the background. - Argyle's kids are homeschooled because their family prefers to hit the road for the sunny months of the year, and he figures they learn more from seeing the world than they ever could stuck inside a classroom. - He makes up stories on the fly to tell his kids, and he's always forgetting the characters names, but they don't seem to mind. The stories involve silly but useful life lessons that he wished someone would've told him when he was their age instead of having to figure them out on his own. They'll thank him someday. - The fashion sense in their family is absolutely wild. Argyle wants his kids to be able to express themselves freely with their style choices just like he does, and the result is a colorful array of garments always strewn about the home, lots of them covered in paint, and sometimes on purpose to add a little flavor.

💕JONATHAN BYERS is your average, working class father, but he is adamant about making time to spend with his family. His two daughters starting high school has been the biggest challenge for him so far, but he never misses a dance recital or a soccer game, and he's always home in time to have dinner with everyone so he can hear about their days. - The Byers family is big on gifts from the heart, so for every birthday, Jonathan makes his girls their own mixtapes complete with songs they already know and love combined with songs he thinks they should hear. It warms his heart when he hears the tracks blaring from their respective bedrooms while they get ready for school each morning. - Being an equal caretaker has always been important to him, so Jonathan took it upon himself to learn to braid. When his girls were little, he used to braid their hair before bed. Now, even though they can do it themselves, they still seek him out at least once a week or so for the perfect plait. - He is the chauffeur for his girls and all of their friends regularly. He'll take them to the mall, the arcade, to school, wherever is needed, and he never complains about it. He feels like it's a gift to be able to spend that time together while they can.

💕EDDIE MUNSON is a single dad whose son is an absolute carbon copy of him. The little guy is never sitting still, his long wild curls billowing behind him as he darts around the house with his plastic sword saving the day. Eddie is pretty sure his first words were "stick it to the man," and he smiles with pride when his son says some off the wall thing because the Munsons wear their weird like a crown. - Above everything, Eddie teaches his son to be kind. Be kind to people, be kind to animals, be kind to places, and be kind to things because the world needs more of it, and it all comes back to you. He teaches him how to put spiders outside instead of kill them and to invite the kid sitting alone on the playground to play pirates with him. Always be kind. - Corroded Coffin has a new stand in drummer while Gareth is away at school. Eddie's son is still fairly young, but he has great rhythm, and playing an instrument proves to be a great way to channel his energy. There is a new house rule that says sticks are for smacking drums only, and you can probably guess why. - Eddie plans small DnD oneshots for he and his son to play through together, and he loves it. The adventures, the battles, and the roleplaying are great for the imagination, and it's their favorite bonding time. Last year's Christmas present to his son was a custom set of abalone shell dice, and he treasures nothing more.

These were so fun to do!! Thank you for getting me thinking outside of my usual box :3 ❤️‍🔥 Requests are open!

#thank u for the ask!!#ask #sando answers #joz ily 💕#stranger things headcanons #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #jonathan byers #argyle #stranger things dads #hc list #sando lists #requests are open!#fanfic requests #writing requests #lol now I'm realizing these just got longer as they went on oops #that always seems to happen with my hc lists

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devilsjacket · 2 years

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Painter Will Byers asking you to model for him and not expecting you to take your shirt off. Gay panic comes into play and he can barely focus on whatever he was trying to make.

#will byers x male y/n #will byers x reader #will byers x male reader #will byers #stranger things #x male reader #male reader #male yn #male y/n

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s-c-l-n · 7 months

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i think a lot about author mike wheeler and just his life with that. like bare with me here ok ? ok.

book -> comic -> tv show pipeline

he and will create the comic together (mike writes and will draws)

he is like tony hawk, youre not really sure if thats mike wheeler or not but pop some readers on him and “oh my god thats mike wheeler !!”

high school english teacher (9th grade)

most kids dont realize who he is (he gaslights the ones who question him)

goes by his married name of byers when teaching

some kids raise an eyebrow at byers cause “isnt he that painter and comic guy ?”, but no ones quite sure

a nicher fav internet old man celeb

big tumblr user (upperclassmen on tumblr make it a game to find his account)

ok thats all for now, may elaborate later

#mike wheeler #byler #CRUMBS #(theyre married in my hc)#mike wheeler hc #EDITS:#I FUCKED UP HIS LAST NAME 💀💀💀#WHOOPS IT WAS 1 AM SORRY #author mike wheeler

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steddilystranger · 6 months

Text

blue butterfly (a life is strange au)

blue butterfly is a story-based fic that features reader choice. the consequences of your collective choices will affect the past, present, and future. the poll, with a duration of one week, is below the cut. choose wisely...

masterlist || part one (you are here) || cw: homophobic language, character death

Wind whips against Steve’s face. He struggles through the storm.

Where am I? he thinks to himself. What’s happening?

A light cuts through his rain-soaked world, and Steve wheels on his heel. “The lighthouse!” he says aloud, droplets of rain seeping through his hair and clothes. “I just have to make it there!”

He ignores the feeling in his gut that is pulling him back to the town and stumbles forward, wiping the rain from his eyes periodically. He gets close to the base of the lighthouse, breaking out of all the trees, and finally sees the storm for the first time.

Holy fucking shit.

It can only be described as a cross between a hurricane and a tornado. It must be miles high, sweeping towards the small town of Hawkins below.

As Steve watches, the strong winds whisk a boat from the bay below and slam it into the top of the lighthouse. Debris crumbles down, heading straight for Steve’s head.

Steve sits forward, gasping for breath quietly.

A dream.

That’s all it was.

Realistic dream, horrifyingly so, but a dream nonetheless.

His professor, Dr. Brenner, is pacing around the classroom, talking animatedly with his hands. “Photography is subjective. I could frame any one of you in a dark room, watching you turn from the light to the dark.”

Vickie’s phone buzzes. Someone throws a ball of paper at that Byers kid, Jonathan.

Steve glances up at the clock, noticing it’s getting close to the end of class. He starts to subtly slip his Polaroid camera into the case, but accidentally hits the button, causing the flash to go off in his face. All eyes are drawn to him.

“I believe Steve has taken what you young people call a ‘selfie’”. Brenner says. “I hate that word. Sounds so unrefined for what is a classical photography technique. Mr. Harrington, can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Steve doesn’t want to talk out of his ass, especially not in front of this room of pretentious art nerds. He’s only taking this class because Robin thought it’d be good for him, especially after he got kicked off the basketball team. One too many concussions is apparently where the coach drew the line.

He shakes his head, and Brenner tuts disappointedly. “If you had done the assigned reading last night, you’d know.” Vickie raises her hand. ”Vickie?”

She answers it perfectly. “A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.”

“Very good!” Dr. Brenner congratulates her. “Yes, precisely.”

The bell rings and everyone stands up to leave, Dr. Brenner’s voice rising above the clamor. “I’m expecting your photographs for the Everyday Hero contest by this Friday! Jeff, that means you. Jonathan, thanks for your submission. And yes, Steve, I see you pretending not to see me.”

Steve steps out into the hallway, sidling around groups of people. He passes by the notice board and takes a cursory glance at it, noting the new poster pinned up. There’s been a poster up for the missing Byers twins, William and Eleanor, for a couple months now, but now a new missing poster. Chrissy Cunningham.

He knows Chrissy.

Not well, of course, but she had gone to school around here back when Steve’s family lived here, before he’d moved away to Seattle. He hadn’t seen her since he transferred back to come to Blackwell, but he didn’t know she was missing.

Someone bumps into his shoulder roughly, and Steve disappears into the blissfully empty bathroom and takes a breath.

A movement catches his eye. A blue butterfly flutters in through the open window.

Robin’s always saying I should “capture the moment”, Steve thinks to himself, drawing his camera out of his bag. Fine. Captured.

He snaps a picture of the blue butterfly as it lands on the small lock of the shitty stall doors, opening and closing its wings lazily, as if putting on a show just for him.

The door slams open behind him and Steve reflexively dodges into the stall, muffling his breath with his hand. He peers through the crack in between the stall and the door. The butterfly flutters out the top of the stall and away.

The back of someone dressed in leather and chains, with long, curly hair, is to him. They’re facing someone who Steve unfortunately recognizes.

Billy Hargrove.

“You bitch!” he spits. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you!”

“What?” the mysterious boy taunts, gravelly and low, and Steve thinks he sounds familiar, even though he can’t put his finger on why. “Mad that I cut you off, Hargrove?”

Billy shoves the boy. “I’m paying you money, fag, why do you give a damn how I use the shit I bought?”

“Because I saw you giving it to kids, asshole!” he retorts right back. “And I got it on tape. So you can either fork over some cash and the remainder of the shit I sold you, or I take this to the cops.”

There’s a sharp breath, and the glint of something metal suddenly hits Steve’s eye.

Billy’s aiming a handgun at the boy.

“You are pissing me off.” he grunts, and Steve knows enough about guns to see that the safety’s off. “I bet no one would even miss you, queer!”

The boy backpedals, letting Billy eclipse Steve’s sliver of view. He’s clutching his hand to his mouth, feeling his nails dig sharp crescent moons into his cheek.

He can’t just sit here.

Steve slams the door open, hand outstretched, prepared to snarl at Billy to get the fuck away from him, but the sound startles him, and the gun goes off.

Right into the boy’s stomach.

The world turns black and white, silent save for a ringing in his ears.

Someone died.

Someone died and Steve was too cowardly to stop it.

And then he’s back in class.

Brenner’s talking. “Photography is subjective. I could frame any one of you in a dark room, watching you turn from the light to the dark.” he says.

I heard this lecture already. Steve thinks. Wait, no. Calm down, Harrington. This is just…serious deja vu.

Vickie’s phone buzzes, and Steve watches someone throw a paper ball at Jonathan. His hand slips and knocks his camera off his desk. It shatters, pieces scattering all over the ground.

Fuck. Robin bought him that.

Hesitantly, Steve reaches out his hand, and it’s like the world moves in reverse around him. His camera pieces levitate off the ground, fitting themselves back together, and the whole camera, now intact, settles itself back on his desk.

Holy shit.

Steve cannot process this. He watches the same things happen, Vickie’s phone and the paper ball, and stares at his hands.

Purposefully this time, he picks up his camera and snaps a picture of himself.

Brenner wheels on him. “I believe Steve has taken what you young people call a ‘selfie’. I hate that word. Sounds so unrefined for what is a classical photography technique. Mr. Harrington, can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Steve sits up straighter, trying to remember what Vickie said last time. “Uh, the… Daguerre process?”

Brenner laughs. “Close! Vickie, would you like to help him out?”

“A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” she says.

Steve reaches out his hand again. The world warps and inverts. “Mr. Harrington,” Brenner says again, “can you tell me the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

“A French painter called Louis Daguerre created the process called the Daguerreotype that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” Steve parrots Vickie, and feels a swell of victory in his chest when Brenner beams.

He also feels a swell of nausea. He’s gone back in time, what, three times now? What’s happening?

The bell rings and Steve sweeps his stuff into his bag. He begins mouthing along to Brenner’s speech. “I’m expecting your photographs for the Everyday Hero contest by this Friday! Jeff, that means you. Jonathan, thanks for your submission.”

Steve dodges into the hallway. “And yes, Steve, I see you pretending not to see me.” he mutters as Brenner finishes his spiel.

Everything’s the same as Steve slips through the crowd. The missing posters, the conversation snippets, the bathroom being empty.

The butterfly’s gone, though. Steve doesn’t know what to make of that.

He folds himself into his hiding spot early, waiting.

Right on cue, the door slams open and Billy comes in with that mysterious boy.

They begin to argue again, and Steve leans forward. If this really isn’t a dream, and if Steve waits too long again, the boy will die. Again.

Steve can’t let that happen.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #life is strange #life is strange au #blue butterfly #stranger things

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