your eyes can be so cruel (just as i can be) | E | 50k
Author: @formosusiniquis
Artist: @kaspurrcat (tumblr and twitter)
Beta Reader: @ablogcalledrevenge
[Link to fic] | [Link to art]
Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Dustin Henderson & Eddie Munson; Corroded Coffin & Eddie Munson
Characters: Steve Harrington; Eddie Munson; Dustin Henderson; Claudia Henderson; Wayne Munson; Robin Buckley; Nancy Wheeler; Corroded Coffin (Stranger Things); Henry Creel | One | Vecna; Upside Down Hive Mind
Tags: Alternate Universe - Labyrinth (1986); Future Fic - Early 2000's; Period-Typical Transphobia; Minor Animal Injury; Hospital/Illness Mention; Slow Burn; Transmasc Eddie Munson; Trans Eddie Munson; Eddie Munson Has Powers; Steve Harrington Has Powers; Enemies to Lovers; Magic; Fantasy Elements; Hive Mind; Hallucinatory Imagery; Possessive Behavior; Eventual Smut; Mild Angst; Happy Ending
Trigger Warnings: Depictions of Violence; Period-Typical Transphobia
↳ Keep reading below for a summary!
When Eddie was sixteen, he wished away his baby brother. He survived dangers untold and hardships unnumbered and rescued Dustin from the castle at the heart of the Goblin City and the Prince who had answered Eddie's wish to steal him. Now it's sixteen years later and Eddie still feels like he's fighting hardships.
When he goes back to his childhood home, he discovers things might be more dire than he realized. The Goblin Prince hasn't forgotten him and now that war is on the horizon for the Labyrinth, he's being called to return to make good on the promises he made all those years ago.
If his power really is as strong as Prince Steven's, Eddie is going to have to learn how to tap into it to keep the Underground from crumbling under the weight of the attacking army. If his will is as great, he'll be able to do it without falling for the charms of the man who kidnaps children at the whims of bratty teenagers, regardless of their claims of betrothal. But as the fight gets nearer Eddie isn't sure how many of those old oaths he'll be able to swear this time. His power feels faltering, his kingdom weak, and he's sure that Steve holds a great deal of power over him. He's not sure he wants the last one to change.
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the number 1 rule of fanfic is have fun and be yourself. the number 2 rule is the average healthy adult male can lose roughly 2 liters of blood before dying.
non-writers will never understand the mental illness of writing an entire conversation in your head while doing dishes and then forgetting every word the second you open a blank doc
in 2026, remember how GOOD writing feels. remember how satsfying it is to get your characters to the point you have been dying to get to, where they will experience the love, fear, relief or whatever the feeling you want to bring to life may be. let this year be the year of writing, prgress and of satisfactory endings.
Old Nate painting taken down from Leverage office wall so as not to make Sophie sad
"Hardison, this thing cannot be in my pantry, get it out of here"
Reverse heist where Parker places it on display in the British Museum
Records changed to make it look like it was wrongly identified as early work by someone who later became intensely famous and respected, and like a lot of money was paid for it
Assorted experts in colonized countries alerted to embarrassing "mistake"
General mockery ensues throughout the art world
Press joins in general mockery
Parker steals painting BACK along with a few other minor artifacts (that happen to quietly find their way back to rightful owners)
British Museum reports actual thefts, is accused of trying to run an insurance scam as no one would take notoriously fake painting
Painting mysteriously appears in background shot of tech billionaire's home interview
#im LAUGHING Nate would be proud#it’s the ot3’s way of coping at first (he’s still there with them!!) but then he becomes a con of his own#hardison toasting old Nate with ‘’and you said there were no new plays’’#parker talks to old Nate during the reverse heist/heists#eliot grumbles about old Nate in the pantry but will prop him on the counter and set out a small glass of brandy for old times sake#Nate might be gone but he’ll always be there with them (@thecookiemonster77) ;-;
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i do not “delete sentences” when they start “hindering the plot” i COPY PASTE THEM into a SEPARATE DOC made just for keeping all my USELESS LINES that i will also NEVER USE so therefore i should JUST DELETE THEM but i DONT because id FEEL BAD if i did
hayden: she takes so long to get ready haha yk women
shane who would give his left arm to wait on and watch while ilya does his two step haircare routine picks out his sluttiest silk shirt and applies a hazardous amount of tom ford cologne: I think you need to get a fucking grip man.
shane would "he asked for no pickles. ☝️" and ilya would love it. not because he can't stand up for himself or any of that (he most certainly can; hes the worlds most brash and obnoxiously confident man <3) but because no one's ever stood up for him before. obvi its small scale and over a mistake, but ilya eats it up every time. and shane loves it bc he loves to take care of his baby even if they both know ilya is more than capable of doing this himself
"The America I loved still exists, if not in the White House or the Supreme Court or the Senate or the House of Representatives or the media. The America I love still exists at the front desks of our public libraries."
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Look me in my face and tell me that a week or so before their wedding Shane didn't look at Ilya and say, "But Ilya...we can't have sex before we're married..." and it took Ilya exactly five seconds to travel through the stages of grief before he fully picked up what Shane was putting down and leaned over to put his hand hiiiiigh up on Shane's thigh and say, "But baby, I need it. Please, just the tip."
You cannot tell me it didn't happen because I will not believe you.
A ‘Bears walk in to Ilya’s house and see him napping with Shane AU’ where Ilya somehow manages to still keep Shane’s identity a secret.
Ilya always had been a light sleeper, so no matter how lightly they stepped he was awake moments after the first shocked gasp.
Ilya knows it’s over for him. There’s no mistaking that there’s a man asleep on his chest in a clearly non-platonic cuddle. Usually Ilya would be punching the intruder, threatening violence to try and ensure they kept their mouth shut but he has quickly realised something far more important. With the way they are sleeping, Ilya on his underneath on his back and Shane on his stomach on top with his face pressed into the gap between Ilya’s neck and the couch, they can’t see his face.
He quickly pulls Shane’s hood up over his head to hide hair and rests a hand over it to gently discourage Shane from moving it should he start to wake up.
So Ilya just stares down his team and goes “you can be upset, but are going to be fucking quiet about it because if you wake my guest I’m sending all my blackmail on you to your wives, and then start fucking them to help them get over the divorce.”
So the whole “You’re fucking gay!” “No, I’m a fucking bi who is fucking a gay” conversation happens at a furious whisper, with Shane blissfully sleeping on Ilya’s chest as life implodes around him.
Shane may be a deep sleeper - and the argument in whispers - but even he starts to stir at the noise.
Ilya can’t have him moving his face into visibility now, so he just scruffs the back of his neck harshly and pressed him deeper into his shoulder.
Shane lets out a pleased (and not at all quiet) moan, and - worried that he is going to start talking - Ilya realises he needs to shut him up.
So he glares at the Bears to be quiet, while suddenly putting on the softest voice they have ever heard him use as he goes, “shhh quiet time now mоя любовь. Back to sleep.” And then shoves his fingers into Shane’s mouth.
When the Bears leave soon after, some of them have LEARNT some things about themselves. But crucially, none of them have learnt who their captain is fucking.
fluff? on mymansmoon? it's more likely than you think.
it's the year following s1. ilya is still in boston and shane is in montreal. they've just played a game against each other in boston and shane is staying over at ilya's house. after dinner they have a little fight about who's going to handle the dishes and ilya wins, play-snarling and biting at shane. shane rolls his eyes; ilya tells him to go into the living room and turn on the TV or something. so he does. settles into one corner of the couch. bundled top to toe in ilya's clothes: hoodie, sweats, socks. (he prefers his own, texturally, but he liked the principle of using everything of ilya's.)
he turns on some sports channel probably. five minutes later ilya comes into the room and flops onto the couch, head landing in shane's lap and the rest of his body stretching out lengthwise. he lets out a big 'ahh!' sound as he does and shane smiles, putting his hands on him. ilya turns onto his side so he can watch tv as well. maybe there's a hockey game on, i don't know. but they talk for a bit about whatever they're watching. relaxed observations traded back and forth. shane is absently playing with any part of ilya that he can easily reach. his hair, his ear, his neck, his shoulder. the night is winding down. they had a late dinner because they were having sex before. started the moment shane walked in the door. shane is full and relaxed. he has his favourite person in his lap. a silence descends on them both.
at some point something happens on the tv that warrants a comment from shane, but it receives no reply from ilya. "ilya?" he leans forward to check ilya's face and he's sleeping. eyes closed, mouth open. he's making those little clicking noises on his inhales that teeter on the edge of snoring. shane feels an unbearable swell of affection for him and watches him for a bit. then he very carefully reaches over to check the time on his phone. it's late. as much as he doesn't want to disturb ilya, he has an early flight out of boston tomorrow, and he isn't going to get a good night's sleep sitting up on this couch.
shane scratches ilya's scalp gently. "baby," he says. no response. he scratches him again, rubs his shoulder and then his jaw. "baby." ilya makes a noise and frowns, stirring a little. shane thinks his heart is going to burst out of his chest. "baby, let's go to bed," he says. this time ilya turns onto his back but keeps his eyes closed. he lifts his chin, sleepily asking for a kiss. shane smiles and gives it to him. soft warm press of lips for two seconds. when shane pulls back ilya sighs and makes a satisfied "hmmh" sound, before going still again. threatening to fall back asleep. shane's cheeks hurt. he rubs the backs of his fingers under ilya's chin. "hey, sleepyhead," he urges gently.
finally ilya inhales the inhale of a waking person, sudden and sharp and deep, and buries his face in shane's—rather, his own—hoodie. then he lifts himself off shane's lap. shane lets him go, reaching for the remote to shut the tv off while ilya yawns and rubs at his face in his periphery. he has groggy eyes. shane gets up and extends a hand to him; ilya takes it. shane pulls him up and leads him by the hand through the house, as familiar to shane now as his own place in montreal.
"I need to—" ilya gestures at the lights that are still on in the kitchen and entryway. "I've got it," shane says, and leaves ilya to hit all the appropriate switches. when he returns ilya is looking at him in a way. "what?" shane asks.
ilya shakes his head. "is just nice," he murmurs. "this is a little like your house now too."
shane breathes. takes ilya's hand again. "yeah," he says. he squeezes. the house is dark and blue-ish now. moonlight coming in through ilya's floor-to-ceiling windows. they look at each other for several long moments, then shane pulls ilya with him to the bedroom.
ilya trying to reinvent himself into something different and normal and stable in ottawa because that's what shane is for him and what ilya wants to be for him in return.
svetlana moving to ottawa with him, that is her bestie, her ride or die. and yes she is worried that one bad night in ottawa becomes a bad week becomes something worse. but that's not them, they don't talk like that. it's much easier to say i'm coming in your suitcase ilyusha, there are a million people in this boring city i can sell fancy cars anywhere, your boring team of babies and married men will need help having fun that is what we do best
and the adjustment is easier, but they bring out the worst in each other sometimes. that's just what happens when you're with a person who's known you your entire life and being mean and dangerous and reckless is what helped you survive. but ilya wants to be one of those boring family guys on his team, and he wants to keep sveta too. so he drags them both kicking and screaming and mad into therapy because if he has to grow and change and learn how to be a well adjusted person then she does too
the kids are calling them "stone fruits." they start off small—think cherries. then they're hooked and they need a quick fix, they get peaches, maybe some nectarines. it's all they can think about. before you know it, they're trying the really hard stuff—apricots, plums. once they taste a mango there's no going back.
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no i REFUSE to get on board with mindfulness guru/licensed therapist/secure attachment style Svetlana Vetrova. emotionally stunted duo that is literally soOooOo Russian they never learned how to establish a kind of intimacy not onioned in 12 layers of cool, ironic detachment.*tearing up slightly* “i think i might almost miss you when i move to Boston” “Ew. Anyways. for unrelated reasons i have accepted a job offer in Boston”
like the Svetilya friendship is literally so enduring because they are each others Emotional-Support Enabler. they would feel so betrayed if bestie actually pushed them to open up about their (gross) feelings. when one of them looks too sad the other drags them off to a bathroom and lovingly racks up a line. Here baby do some designer drugs abt it. offered escapism as a love language. quit being passively suicidal and dress like a slut bcs we’re going out! I know you crashed hard out of the Olympics BUT, I brought you this twink as a consolation prize. *google calender alert for the anniversary of Well, You Know* cancel everything we’re weekending in Miami. Why don’t we fuck til it turns both our brains off. Don’t kill yourself I literally got us tickets to Coachella, I Am Here For You.
