Hi! I'm Em. I write fanfiction for fun over on AO3!
♡ Nonbinary lesbian (they/them pronouns)
♡ 20s
♡ Hobby writer
♡ Currently writing stranger things fic (mostly steddie)
My inbox will always be open for any comments, questions, and requests.
Thanks for stopping by! ♡
Masterlist of fanfictions below the cut, sorted chronologically from most recent update:
AO3: mourningshowers
storge (G | 4.1k | 1/1 | part one of forms of love)
Steve Harrington is claimed by his mother the same night he arrives at camp. And it happens in the middle of the campfire sing-a-long, go fucking figure.
Storge, or familial love, refers to natural or instinctual affection, such as the love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa.
carry me home (T | 10k | 1/3)
“I missed you,” he says honestly, the words muffled into Eddie’s skin, and something within him just— Clicks into place. Eddie doesn’t waste a second in climbing up onto the bed to hold Steve, too, his hands stroking up and down his back. Steve continues to murmur, “Even though back then, I didn’t really know you—I missed you so much when you were gone.” “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Eddie says, and he draws back if only to run his hands through Steve’s hair softly, pushing the strands back just to lay soft lips at his temple. It feels like love, so it must be. Love. He needs it. So much he’s dizzy with it. He leans into the touch. Eddie smiles against his skin. “I never left.” Steve Harrington wakes up in a world where he is loved. It's not real.
any way the wind blows (M | 34.9k | 5/15)
Steve's mind is carefully blank. It has been from the moment his father walked him to one of the castle’s balconies, the one that oversaw his home kingdom in its entirety, and said the word betrothal. He had suppressed every single thing, every emotion and feeling and conviction that had risen inside of him that very moment, and has continued to suppress them, and he will continue well after he is officially wed tonight—most likely until he takes his final breath. He had known for a while now that this would be his fate. He wishes knowing had made it any easier. From childhood, Prince Stephen of the Northlands has been a disappointment. When his parents forged a new alliance with the Southlands, he did not expect his own hand to factor into the treaty. Yet on the dawn of his twentieth birthday he finds himself being carted off to the capital of the Southlands to marry their infamous bloody-handed warrior, Prince Kas. Prince Kas’ reputation precedes him. But upon his arrival Steve quickly realizes that the Southlands aren’t all that they seem to be, and neither is his betrothed.
silver fox (G | 2.3k | 1/1)
Steve stops short. He meets Eddie’s eyes in the water-stained mirror, then his own. A beat passes. Before he knows it he’s crowding up way too close to his own reflection, pulling at his scalp this way and that and sure enough— There are a few hairs that glint silver in the dim bathroom light. “What,” he says again, as he feels his world slowly begin to implode around him. Grey hairs at twenty-one years old, he despairs silently. At this rate he will be almost entirely grey at age thirty, probably. “Kinda super sexy of you,” Eddie is saying, manhandling him a bit out of the way so that he can spit and rinse. “Silver fox Stevie. Ha.”
only i remain (your friend, eddie) (T | 9.5k | 1/1)
Dustin, I’m awake now. Finally. And I’m alive.
Dustin, Weird things are happening. Guess that’s just par for the course in Hawkins though, so I can’t say I’m all that surprised.
Dustin, This is the last letter I’ll be able to write.
hunter's moon (T | 17k | 2/2 | part one of moonstruck)
“What about your pack?” Steve asks, because, well— Werewolves are social creatures. Humans may not be right about the specific dynamics, the leaders and the runts and pack structures, but they got the general idea right. The idea that wolves have a distinct need for life, to be surrounded by it, sustained by it. There is no point in running beneath the glow of a full moon without people you trust. People who understand what it's like. “Don’t have one,” Eddie replies stiffly. “Don’t need one. I have my uncle. And my friends. Even though they’re human, they help with the whole socialization thing.” He’s a lone wolf, Steve realizes. That’s the smell that rolls off of Eddie Munson in irrepressible waves: it’s loneliness.
convalescence (M | 23.3k | 2/3)
Eddie met Steve the year he turned twenty, in a kitchen with peeling yellow wallpaper. Further down the line, he'll remember thinking that the wallpaper was dull in comparison to the glowingly beautiful boy stood at the stove. Even if the boy had the saddest eyes Eddie had ever seen, a deep brown and frosted over like the earth in January. You can be sad and beautiful, Eddie reasoned: wilted roses do not stop being lovely just because they’re looking down instead of up. Or, it’s winter and Steve is stolen.
baby love (G | 2k | 1/1)
Eddie looks better than he has in a long while. His hair is a little shorter and curlier than it was back in March and he’s wearing a short-sleeve Night of the Living Dead t-shirt, proudly displaying the healed, jagged scars that crawl up his arms and neck. His eyes are bright, his mouth fast, his posture relaxed, and he’s— He’s holding a baby. It’s shocking how quickly Steve’s mind goes hysterically loud one moment and then carefully blank the next.
stay safe (T | 4.3k | 1/1 | part 3 of first meetings)
“My name isn’t Junior,” Junior cuts in, like that’s the thing he should be concerned about, not the fact that Steve was calling out his perceived shitty relationship with his father. “Yeah, no shit,” Steve says. “But I don’t know your real name and Hopper calls you Junior, so.” “I’m Eddie. Eddie Munson. I’ve been in your pre-calc class all semester. And gym, but I never go.” “Oh,” Steve says. He recognizes the name, has heard it before, murmured in the halls of Hawkins High or on the back patio during a house party. He’d never been able to put a face to it. Never really cared to. It’s funny how quickly things like that can change.
brighter in the dark (T | 13.9k | 1/1)
Eddie thinks that he’s probably judged Steve too quickly. He thinks Steve’s probably full of surprises, if the past two years are anything to go by. And then, of course, Steve just has to prove him right by stepping out of his BMW in a full sailor suit fantasy that not even the most depraved recesses of Eddie’s mind could have cooked up. Jesus. He’s got the little hat and everything. Cute tiny shorts, too, that are regrettably not as short as the ones included in the Hawkins High gym uniform, but still short enough for Eddie to be able to appreciate Steve’s legs. He has nice legs. Good knees. White socks pulled halfway up his calves, for some reason, stark against his golden tan skin. Wispy little hairs that probably go up his thighs. Eddie needs to stop looking at his legs. “Eddie Munson,” Steve calls as he approaches, his voice all easy and light like they’re actually friends. “Hi.” Eddie blinks at him. Because Eddie's life can never be normal, the summer of '85 finds him working a firework stand just outside of Starcourt Mall, catching up on school work, and tutoring Steve Harrington in all things D&D.
let the light in (M | 19.4k | 1/1)
Eddie’s blood sings out for him in a way that is distinctly not-human, and that’s really the final nail in the coffin. The proverbial one, at least. He’s not so sure what happened to the real one. “What did you do?” Eddie asks, when the horror fully sets in and takes over and the dread crawls up from his chest to claw at his throat and choke. He asks, desperately, “Steve, what did you do?” “What I had to,” Steve answers, and Eddie breathes out with decayed lungs, coughs up some more soil, and weeps. Eddie wakes up.
moonbeam (T | 6.1k | 1/1 | part 2 of first meetings)
Eddie hums. “We’ll figure something out,” he tells Steve, like they’re friends or something. Like they’ll see each other somewhere after this and won’t just let their eyes skip over one another’s faces—like they’ll actually call out to one another, sit down, catch up. Steve knows better. Knows their tentative alliance doesn’t exist outside of this mediocre 24-hour diner, at nearly midnight a few days after the Fourth of July. They both know it, Eddie’s just pretending not to. Strangely enough, it doesn’t stop Steve from saying, “Sure.”
in my life (T | 9.5k | 1/1)
Eddie will say goodbye to Dustin and Mike at the same time then move on to the rest. Two birds, one stone. And then he’ll be off. Easy peasy. Except it isn’t, because when has Eddie’s life ever been easy? He drives over to the Wheeler’s place down Maple Street, parks at the curb in front of the house. Stumbles up the front steps and raps on the door a bit. Is so lost in preparing his last-minute improvised goodbye speech that he doesn’t register the fact that Mike Wheeler isn’t the one answering the door until, well— “Eddie?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. Eddie gapes at him stupidly. Eddie is leaving. Steve is doing his damnedest to get him to stay. Also, Holly Wheeler is a fairy princess.
you win some, you lose some (G | 2.3k | 1/1 | part 1 of first meetings)
Eddie hums. His eyes are blazing with something Steve can't really put a name to. “What were you and Hargrove fighting over?” “None of your business.” “Title of Best Car in the Hawkins High senior parking lot? Captaincy for the game in which you throw balls into laundry baskets?” He pauses, leans forward and grins wickedly. “A girl?”
chimera (T | 5.5k | 1/1 | part 1 of transmutation)
“Friend,” the demogorgon repeats. It reaches a hand up. Long and thin and veiny. Distinctly not human. Black beneath the clawed nail. The tip of its finger comes closer and Steve stops breathing right up until it gently brushes the denim of Steve’s vest. Not Steve’s vest. Eddie’s vest. Steve looks down. Jammed onto the finger is a chunky silver ring in the shape of a tombstone.
fixer-upper (T | 20.5k | 3/3 | part 2 of love letters verse)
Steve wakes up the morning of their two-month We-Finally-Got-Our-Shit-Together anniversary to find Eddie staring at him, crouched over at the foot of the bed with his round unblinking eyes like a fucking gargoyle. It should be creepy. Steve is used to this, though, so now it’s just kind of a thing that Eddie does. “What,” Steve says groggily, wiping the drool from his mouth. “Nothing, angel, go back to sleep,” Eddie trills. Or, two months after Steve and Eddie officially get together, Steve finds himself thinking about home, his heart, and how to let go.
you all the way down (T | 6.7k | 1/1)
Steve steels himself, grips his bat tight, and whips open the door. Instead of the kids, or Wayne, or any of the remaining basketball meatheads that have made Eddie’s life a living hell since the spring, a girl is standing on the stoop. She looks about Steve’s age, maybe a couple of years older. She’s short. Petite. She has freckles all over her round face, kind of like Robin does, with the same hair length, although hers is dark and straight with a chic cut to it. She’s wearing all black, ripped jeans and big heeled boots and an oversized denim jacket. Her dark eyes are ringed with smudged eyeliner and look wide, almost frantic; her hand is poised just above the door, and the dozens of thin silver rings on her fingers glint in the early morning sunlight. “Oh,” she says, her voice all airy like she’d run out of breath. “Oh, sorry. I… I must have the wrong place.”
in the meantime (T | 13.3k | 1/1)
Now that Eddie’s officially retired, him and Steve are engaged and they live in a huge house together in a state where apparently, it is currently at least a little bit legal for two people of the same gender to adopt or foster children together. They have a family; not some ragtag mishmash of people bonded by the trauma of surviving multiple apocalypses together, but an actual family. Two parents, a slew of children, and a home. The mismatched decor of the house suddenly makes a lot more sense, the pastel yellow color of the walls in the family room clashing horribly with the stuffed crow and plastic skull on the mantelpiece. It’s so them it hurts. Mike and El went off the grid for a number of years following the death of Henry Creel. Except it seems as though nothing is truly dead and gone, because the Upside-Down reawakens more than ten years later for reasons unknown. They soon find themselves calling everyone to come back to Hawkins and stop the end of the world from happening yet again. Some people have moved on, though.
two-headed calf; twice as many stars (T | 3.6k | 1/1)
The music has stopped. Eddie mutters something about a quick smoke break and slips out the front door, wood planks creaking and settling in his wake. The old guitar is abandoned against the wall. And who would Steve be, if he didn’t follow?
follow the sun (T | 11.1k | 1/1)
Eddie walks into a Michaels Arts and Crafts Store at 4PM on a Sunday stoned out of his goddamn mind and is immediately accosted by the image of Steve Harrington crouched over in the yarn aisle, wearing glasses and an apron over what can only be described as a grandpa sweater.
love letters in your lunch (T | 20.2k | 4/4 | part 1 of love letters verse)
Rumor has it that whenever any one of the seven or so gremlins that Steve has magnanimously decided to adopt sleep over at his ridiculously large and empty house, he’ll get up extra early in the morning and pack them all lunches in brown paper bags. He’ll make them breakfast, too, and drop them off at school with a ruffle of their hair, a slap on their shoulder, or a pep-talk, depending on the kid. Not that Eddie Munson, of all people, would know anything about it. It's October and Steve starts packing Eddie lunches for work. Eddie doesn't know what to do about it.
wake up the dawn (T | 7.6k | 1/1)
The worst part about the secrets is that Steve will eventually find someone else to share them with, someone else to show his big dorky glasses and play a subdued game of Two Truths and a Lie with, and Eddie will fade into the periphery, into the background, into nothing until he dissipates completely. It’s inevitable. That doesn’t make the dull ache right smack dab into the middle of his chest any less painful. Or, Eddie considers grief, hair, secrets, lullabies, and the unattainability of dreams.
