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m00npiez · 8 months

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This coffee shop au starring HoH Steve starts here! (and a tw for this part: there's some on-screen vomiting)

“I’m telling you, Chris, it’s not like that.”

Eddie’s afraid that this awful thing he hears next is the sound of Chrissy painstakingly slowly gritting her teeth, but he’s not brave enough to check. He doesn’t want to risk being killed by her death stare.

“Eddie, I saw the bookmarks on your laptop. You have three different ‘How to flirt in ASL’ websites saved, and it’s only the top of the list. And yesterday, when Steve came for his coffee? You signed ‘hello handsome’ and he nearly passed out on the spot. How can you say that it’s not like that?”

He rolls his eyes. “You just don’t get it,” he mumbles, punching the side of the coffee machine with an “out of order” sign taped to it in slow motion because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Chrissy scoffs, flailing her arms desperately. “Don’t I?”

Eddie’s never the first one to admit defeat, but frankly – Chrissy’s just right. She’s always right, sometimes Eddie’s afraid that she knows what he’s thinking better than he does himself. And it’s unlike her not to point out his bullshit when he refuses to see it, just like he’s doing now.

In fact, his relationship (or whatever it is at this point) with Steve is exactly like that. It’s way beyond the point of stupid crush, and it’s way beyond the point of just hanging out. It’s been weeks since Eddie helped Steve with his assignment. It was a great success – Steve sent him a screenshot of his professor’s comment and they’ve been texting almost every day ever since. They also spend time together whenever they can, but it’s always somewhere around the shop.

They’ve never left this safe enclosure – Eddie knows that it’s a shit excuse, but the idea of being with Steve in the wild scares him. What if talking to Eddie is entertaining only because they’re in this secure environment, where they can gossip and talk about minuscule things that don’t matter, where there’s always space to make some kind of joke or tell a made up story about some customer? What if it’s so easy only because they’ve created some kind of false sense of safety within these walls? Eddie sees that on a daily basis here. People walk in, have the time of their lives, talk for hours, sometimes completely forgetting about the coffee they were supposed to be drinking—and then they leave and go in completely different directions, not even looking back for a second.

Eddie’s making up excuses, he’s aware of that. He’s making up excuses, because he’s afraid that he’s not going to be enough if he stops and takes a while to be just himself. Chrissy says he’s a lot to handle – not in a mean way, but in an a lot way. Mostly, she’s right—usually, Eddie would say the same thing about himself.

But he really wants this thing with Steve to work. It’s true, they’ve been getting to know each other only for a short period of time, but it feels like—

He looks down at the counter. Some time ago, Steve stopped giving him post-its with his order altogether. Now, they’re just post-its with silly, wonky drawings scattered all over them. Eddie saves each and every one, but his personal favorite is taped permanently to the side of the cash register. It’s a redraw of the first drabble he drew on Steve’s cup all those weeks ago – the thing that was supposed to be a dragon, but came out as some kind of ugly snake. Steve’s version is captioned “ROAR”. Eddie’s heart sinks a little lower every time he looks at it.

He shakes his head. “I just don’t want to screw it with him, you know? I feel—I dunno, maybe we—”

She squeezes his left shoulder twice, firmly. You’re gonna be okay, it says. It’s their universal sign of being there for each other. Eddie was the one who came up with it when the times were darker, their lives lonelier and the struggles greater. Now that they’re dividing them in two, they don’t seem so big.

Chrissy smiles. “You’re not gonna know until you try, Ed. I’m not saying you have to, I don’t know, propose or something, but asking him out could be a good start. You could be good for each other, really good.”

This time, he simply hopes that she really is right. He punches the machine once again, just for good measure. Chrissy groans.

“They won’t be able to fix it at all if you beat it to pulp!”

***

After another two weeks, Eddie can shamefully admit that he still hasn’t made a move.

He tried. Multiple times, in his opinion, but it never really worked—either because Steve’s really, really oblivious, or because he doesn’t want to go out with him.

There’s also the third – Chrissy’s – option: Eddie’s simply not clear enough. He chickens out time after time and that’s why it doesn’t work. He’s self-sabotaging himself. It’s a truth that makes the blood in his veins boil, but it most probably is the best explanation.

Well, it’s not like he’s going to be able to do anything about it now. He has his annual fishing trip with Wayne planned and he’s going away tomorrow. It’s only for a few (excruciatingly painful, because he hates the sole concept of fishing; however, he’ll do everything for his old man) days, but the whole Steve business will be pretty much out of the picture.

It’s entirely in the picture now, though.

Eddie’s on closing duties. It’s been a long day. When Steve came in to get his coffee and supposedly check on Eddie, the look on his face gave him away immediately.

“Get me out of here and I’ll pay you in diamonds,” the note he passed to Steve said.

“Diamonds? Why not in nature?” he retorted. Eddie was half glad that Steve couldn’t have heard his sputtering—although he definitely smirked, all smug, having seen how wide Eddie’s eyes went.

But Steve doesn’t really seem like he’s himself today either. It looks like something’s bugging him, if it’s fair to judge from the way he’s shielding his eyes from the light, yawning frequently or having to take a break from reading his notes every now and then. Eddie asked him a few times if he wanted to go home, but Steve just kept replying that he’ll wait for Eddie to finish his shift. It’s sweet, really; it’s also worrying, because Steve’s not as sneaky as he thinks he is. Eddie definitely saw him take a pill at some point.

Fortunately, he’s almost done. When his coworker, Brenda (who’s been eyeing Steve for a suspiciously long time this evening), declares that she’ll close the shop, Eddie sighs a breath of relief. With his bag slinging from his shoulder, he crosses the cafe and taps the table Steve’s sitting at a few times to get his attention.

Then, he thinks that he’ll never get sick of the view of Steve’s face. When Eddie reaches his cheesiest moments, he has a hard time believing that Steve’s even real, because he doesn’t feel real. He feels like a gift, with his kindness and patience and little quirks that he has, like doing a mom pose whenever he notices that Robin is making fun of him, even though he’s not really mad. They all make him a whole person, and a person that’s so fascinating, so warm and good-natured, Eddie feels ashamed knowing that he will never be able to give it all back.

Steve signs and after thinking for a few seconds, Eddie remembers what it means. “Ready to go?” he’s asking.

Eddie’s attempts to learn ASL seem to be going quite well. He can only sign a few things himself, and it’s mostly useless in day-to-day life (he takes flirting seriously, thank you very much), but he understands more. He has a long, long road ahead, but Steve and his friends are so happy to help him it doesn’t seem as hard now. He’s planning on roping Chrissy into learning it too.

He nods and helps Steve with his stuff, getting yet another confirmation that something’s not exactly right with him. Steve shakes his arm off a few times before he gets a good grip on the door handle while they’re leaving, which makes Eddie frown. He picks up his phone.

“Are you alright?” he asks, showing it to Steve, who squints when he takes the phone. The first thing he does is lowering the brightness to minimum.

“Yeah, just feeling a little funny. It’s nothing. Can I walk with you?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Apparently, walking together is another one of their things. Eddie’s crappy apartment is close enough to the cafe they started this little tradition of walking there together whenever he has a closing shift. Eddie’s been meaning to invite Steve in—that’s the thing he’s seemingly not clear enough about in Chrissy’s opinion.

Either way, Steve always asks if he can walk with Eddie. As if Eddie had any psychological or physical ability to say no to him, ever.

“Of course you can. Although I’m starting to second-guess your ability to execute your judgment atm. It really looks like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“But I’m telling you that it’s nothing, at least nothing I’m not familiar with.”

Eddie pouts, staring at his phone. He’s not sure whether he should press more or leave it, trusting that Steve would tell him if something really wasn’t right. “Well, fine then,” he writes. He fights the urge to bite his nails, mulling over the thing he wants to say next. “But you’re not going home in this state by yourself, so you’re either: a) getting a cab (expensive, not ecological, smells funny), b) calling someone (may end up in people standing you up), or c) coming upstairs to wait for it to pass (no drawbacks, I’m amazing).”

When he passes the phone to Steve, he’s not there. Eddie almost drops his phone, staring at where Steve was supposed to be in shock. They were walking together, weren’t they? Eddie didn’t make it up, right?

Then, he hears retching. Eddie’s head snaps in the direction of the sound. What he sees next baffles him only for a few seconds.

Behind him, Steve’s bending over a trash can in what looks like a truly painful heaving fit. Strands of hair stick to his sweaty forehead and cheeks, tears stream from his eyes. The hem of Steve’s scarf is dangerously close to falling into the trash can, and that’s the thing that finally sets Eddie in motion.

“Shit, Stevie,” he says, more for his own comfort than Steve’s. For a moment, he lets his hand hover over Steve’s in the hope that it would be enough to warn him that Eddie’s near. He gathers the scarf in his free hand and removes it from the way.

While Steve’s starting another fit, Eddie starts to panic. He knew something wasn’t right. Instantly, dozens of pictures of Steve on operating tables cross his stupid mind.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—Uh, okay, Steve?”

He waits for an answer. Then he remembers and curses himself that his ASL level is so damn low. Steve coughs and coughs, and his hair is getting so close to his mouth Eddie decides to just reach out and sweep it back, thinking that Steve can hate him for touching it later.

When it looks like Steve’s done and starting to recover, Eddie takes out his phone.

“Should I call 911?”

It takes a while before Steve registers the screen—when he does, he has to shut his eyes. He shakes his head, which sends him into another coughing fit. Without thinking, Eddie smooths his hair once more, trying to think on his feet.

“Will you be able to walk some more?”

A nod. Eddie pockets his phone as soon as he can, seeing how just the tiniest bit of light makes Steve twitch and struggle. It takes him another minute or two to recover this time. When he’s finally able to straighten up, he leans on Eddie heavily.

The rest of the walk to his place is slow and careful. Eddie has to lead Steve straight to the bathroom in complete darkness—and it would be funny, really, because Steve’s the one who’s unwell, but Eddie’s the one who almost trips twice in his own tiny apartment, if he wasn’t scared half to death at the moment. He didn’t think this through. Steve can be having a life threatening condition for all he knows. As soon as Steve’s out of his coat and winter attire, bending over the toilet in the dark bathroom, Eddie stands by the open door and chooses Chrissy’s number.

“Ed I swear if you’re calling to whine how useless you are with—”

“Steve’s here,” he cuts her off, chewing on his nail.

“What? It’s good then, why do you sound like someone’s dying?”

Eddie closes his eyes. He’s not superstitious—hell, who’s he even kidding, he is. He’d rather not hear this word in this context. “He’s puking his guts out. He said he’s been feeling funny and we were walking, and then suddenly he started throwing up and—”

“Eddie, calm down. Did you call Robin?”

He takes a big breath. He’s so stupid. “I don’t have her number. Or her socials. Fuck. I’m pretty sure his phone is locked. Shit—what do I do now?”

An awfully loud groan comes from the bathroom. “This doesn’t sound good,” Chrissy says. “Okay, listen. I’ll find her, you take care of him. Don’t panic!”

Eddie manages a whine, but Chrissy’s not there to hear it.

In the bathroom, Steve’s slouching over the toilet, but it seems like he’s done. His breathing is heavy and ragged. In the dim light Eddie turned on in the corridor, he looks like he’s already half-dead, with his pale cheeks and sweat glistening on his face. Eddie runs a rag under cold water and crouches beside Steve. He taps his shoulder lightly.

Steve doesn’t even open his eyes, he just lets Eddie do anything he sees fit. Eddie gives his chin a gentle tug and starts wiping the sweat off his face. Eddie’s heart clenches. Whatever it is that’s happening to Steve, it’s tearing him apart and Eddie wishes he could have prevented it, anyhow.

Steve has to sign twice for Eddie to even register it. He's not sure whether it’s bed or bedroom, but he figures that it must mean that Steve wants to lay down.

“Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart—Why am I even saying it, you can’t even see my lips now.”

He gives Steve a slight tug. When he obeys, Eddie feels the weight of responsibility. Steve trusts him completely, maybe even with his life for all Eddie knows, and the best he can do is wipe the sweat off Steve’s face and give him a place to sleep it off. It doesn’t feel like much, but when he closes the blinds and covers Steve with a blanket, Steve reaches out for his hand and squeezes it lightly.

Eddie squeezes back. He hopes it’ll be alright.

He’s in the kitchen when his phone pings.

“robin says he’s having a migraine”

“she asks if he had his meds, threw up (already told her that he has) and/or went to sleep”

“if you can answer yes to all of the above, he should be alright”

Thanks to whatever eternal being that rules this universe for Chrissy Cunningham. And Robin Buckley.

***

Eddie doesn’t get too much sleep that night. Firstly, because his ratty old sofa has more bedsprings than plush. Secondly, because he keeps coming back to his bedroom door to check whether Steve’s still breathing or not.

He’s eating cereal and reading some random book when a piece of paper drops down next to his hand.

“Hi. Can I take a shower?”

Eddie looks up so quickly he almost cracks his neck. Steve looks like he’s been through hell, but he’s smiling gently. Eddie can’t help himself and grins.

“Hi,” he says, so incredibly relieved he feels like he’s ten tons lighter. He grabs the nearest pen and replies to Steve’s question. He knows that Steve can lip read quite well, but it’s exhausting for him to keep his attention on the task for too long. Eddie can’t imagine how painful it would be now.

“Of course. I think I have a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. I’ll leave a towel and some spare clothes for you.”

Steve reads the reply and smiles again, tired and small, but seemingly content. He points to the corridor; Eddie nods.

He leaves his comfiest clothes outside the bathroom. Soft sweatpants and his favorite Judas Priest hoodie.

When Steve comes back and flops down on the sofa next to Eddie, his hair is wet, flat and smelling of Eddie’s coconut shampoo. He looks better already, as if washing down the remnants of last night was enough to get him going. With a bottle of water he took from the fridge, Eddie passes him a note and a pen.

“Would you like to eat something?”

Steve thinks for a second. “Not yet. Thanks for the water.”

Eddie smiles in response. It’s quiet for a while; Eddie’s reading his book, Steve’s drinking his water and reading over Eddie’s shoulder. It doesn’t feel weird or forced at all, though. It feels cozy and safe. Outside, the snow is falling again.

Eddie doesn't even notice that Steve is writing something again until he pushes his note over the book.

“Thank you. For taking care of me. I should have told you before. I'm used to taking care of myself by myself.”

He frowns. It genuinely confuses him for a second. “Don’t worry about it. I would have done it either way, even if you’d told me. Why should you be left alone when you’re unwell?”

Steve’s face expression turns from sad to sour in a blink. He looks at Eddie for a second, worrying at his lip and clearly choosing carefully what to say next. It takes him a long while to write down everything, and once again Eddie wishes he knew ASL already. He’s trying not to peek, but it’s hard to look at Steve’s solemn face and ignore it.

The note is hefty; it’s more of a letter than a note to be honest.

“I’m going to tell you a lot of things now, and I really don’t want you to freak out or riot. Just read and try not to think too hard about it, okay?

“In the past, I’ve had several concussions and head traumas. At first, it seemed like everything was alright, no severe damage, nothing to worry about. Then I started losing hearing in my left ear. It was gradual, so I didn’t understand what was going on until I could barely hear anything. My parents took me to some audiologist and he told us that hearing aids were my best option.

“Soon after – another head trauma. Doctors said it was really bad luck to have the same outcomes from two separate injuries to both sides of the brain, that I was unique. Hearing in my right ear went away suddenly.

“I was lost and confused. Adjusting wasn’t going well and my parents had a hard time accepting the process. To be honest, they were just assholes. They had a problem with ‘babysitting’ me. Long story short, we fought and they kicked me out. And without any insurance, I didn’t have a chance to start rehabilitation and get proper medical care. My ability to speak didn’t last.

“It’s better now. I have people who care for me, I’m staying afloat. I still have some hearing left, but I’ve adjusted to this new reality and I really don’t feel ready to change it now with proper aids or a cochlear. And as you have already noticed, my concussions left me with some other health problems too.

“I’m not saying this because I want you to feel sorry for me. The point is, Eddie, I care about you. And the fact that you didn’t ditch me yesterday means a lot to me.”

Eddie wants to say so many things after reading the note. He has at least twenty questions lined up. He wants to say how insanely unfair it is that Steve had to go through all this, that his parents should, frankly, burn in hell. How soul-shattering the fact that Steve expects people to leave him is.

Instead, he looks Steve in the eyes, trying to say everything he’s not allowed to say at the moment. He squeezes Steve’s knee before he writes the reply.

“I don’t know why you’d even think that I could possibly leave you. You were sick, Steve. I don’t do that to people.”

Steve scoffs, but not unkindly, and shuts his eyes for a second. He gives Eddie a sad smile.

“Exactly. You don’t do that to people. But I’ve had people do that to me. Last time something like that happened, my date dropped me off at the nearest ER and blocked me everywhere the next day.

“Today, I woke up woozy and confused, but somehow I still knew that I was safe. I knew you were somewhere around and it wasn’t so scary. You make me feel like I’m going to be fine, Eddie. Believe me when I say that it is big for me, even if you think it’s just basic human decency.”

Steve’s words are imprinted under Eddie’s eyelids. He closes his eyes, but he still sees them.

He sees them, and they make him feel a certain way. They make him feel like he is going to be alright, too. To him, they look an awful lot like a promise—a promise he wants to keep forever.

The reply he writes is well-thought and consists only of words that seem to be the most important.

“Then we can care for each other. We can be fine together.”

Steve’s whole face melts. Seeing how heavy his eyelids get, how relaxed he seems to be, Eddie starts to worry that he’s going to fall asleep on the spot. He has half a mind to nudge Steve with his elbow when he starts nodding frantically and a grin spreads over his lips.

For a second, Eddie isn’t sure if it means what he thinks it means. Then Steve leans in and rests his temple on Eddie’s shoulder, and suddenly, the air between them gets a different flow. As if they were sitting together, but in two separate bubbles, and now there’s only one. As if they had two similar, but at the same time entirely different perspectives, and now there’s only one. As if they’re going to be two separate parts of one from now on.

Steve’s breath is warm and minty. Eddie knows, because he can feel it on his hand when he reaches up to caress his cheek. He knows, because Steve looks up and his lips part, and his breath is warm and minty so close to Eddie’s lips the line between them disappears.

Eddie doesn’t know which one of them destroys the line permanently, but he knows that when they kiss, he finally knows how it truly feels to be fine.

(deeply sorry if i tagged someone who didn’t want to be tagged or didn’t tag someone who wanted a tag I AM SORRY I WAS DOING MY BEST) @lightwoodbanethings @unclewaynemunson @cr0w-culture @grtwdsmwhr @adelicioustragedy @zerokrox-blog @michael-the-angelo @revengeismygender @mareydi @asinus-ad-lyram @brassreign @gleefully-macabre @killjoy-patrixtump @shinekocreator @emly03 @beeing-stuupid @ineffablecolors @festering-psyche @eddiethefreaked @designatedgrape @legitcookie @xpaperheartso @ooo-protean-ooo @hotluncheddie

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m00npiez · 8 months

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Modern Steddie AU

“Oh she’s cute.” Robin points over to a table near the bar.

Steve follows her finger and the blonde in the pink pleated skirt is, in fact, very cute. “You should go talk to her.”

Robin gives him a look, “Literally everything about her screams ‘straight’ so no thanks,” she takes a sip of her cocktail, “Don’t feel like getting humiliated today.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I doubt she’d humiliate you but suit yourself.” He stands and fluffs up his hair a little, “If you won’t, I sure as hell will.”

Before his friend can protest, Steve’s strutting over to the girl’s table. She looks up at him when he stops and leans slightly against the chair opposite from hers.

“Hi!” she greets before he can say anything. Her whole face lights up as she smiles. She’s definitely cute, but not exactly what Steve had in mind for the night.

“Hey,” Steve flashes his own smile, “I was just telling my friend how cute you are and wanted to know if I could maybe buy you a drink?”

Her face goes pink, but her smile falters slightly and a small frown forms. “Oh that’s so nice of you, but I’m actually a lesbian,” she seems genuinely upset at having to break this news to him. “I’m really sorry, you seem lovely.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains, “Oh, god, sorry I should have asked,” he laughs, “That’s totally my bad.”

She shakes her head and leans forward in her seat, “Not at all, sweetheart!” there’s a slight southern accent slipping through and her smile is back. “You couldn’t have known, I know I don’t exactly look the part.”

“Well, since I’m already here,” Steve smirks, glancing over his shoulder to where he can see Robin watching the scene unfold. Her eyes snap away once she realizes he’s looking at her. “My friend over there is single and also extremely gay.”

Chrissy looks over and her smile turns coy, “Now she’s cute,” her eyes snap back to Steve. “She’s the one who told you to come over?”

“The opposite, actually. She thought you were straight so, I came over instead.” Steve explains.

Chrissy nods, glances over her shoulder and then stands. “Well, I’ll just have to go over there then.”

Steve smiles, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Chrissy.” The blonde extends her hand and Steve shakes it. “Thank you for letting me know the girl I’ve been eyeing is queer.”

Steve gives her a two-finger salute and goes to walk away, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Do you like men, by any chance?” Chrissy asks, her smile alluding to something.

“Is it that obvious?” Steve laughs.

She gives him a once-over, “The tight shirt sort of gave you away.”

“Fair enough. Why do you ask?”

Chrissy points over to a curly-haired guy covered in tattoos, who’s ordering at the bar, “You should go talk to my friend, Eddie, he’s been blabbing about the hot jock in the polo since you walked in.”

Steve swallows, he’d seen the guy when they walked in, but hadn’t allowed himself to look. He was the kind of hot and scary Steve usually avoided due to their usual disdain for preppy guys like Steve. But surely if he kept Chrissy around, he couldn’t be all bad.

“I don’t exactly seem like his type.” Steve points out, giving Chrissy a nervous glance.

She laughs, “Oh please, pretty boy with big eyes and a great body? You’re everyone’s type.”

“Not yours.”

“Trust me honey, if you were a masc lesbian I’d be all over you right about now.” Chrissy winks and Steve can feel his face heating up.

“I don’t want to bother him…”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Just use the same line you used on me, he doesn’t bite.” she pauses, “Unless you ask really nicely.”

Yeah she isn’t exactly easing his nerves with these little jabs.

“He looks like he carries a knife.” Steve’s just stalling at this point.

“I know he seems kinda mean and scary, but he’s really just a big ol’ softie, trust me,” she pats his shoulder, picks up her drink and starts walking towards Robin, “Now I’ve got a pretty lady to talk to, so get! Go make a move on the scary metalhead, Steve!”

Steve watches her go, his amusement growing at the sight of Robin’s panic when Chrissy plops down at their table.

Mustering up the courage to walk to the bar, he turns but immediately bumps into someone. The person manages to steady their drink and somehow prevent Steve from falling on his ass, grabbing him around the waist.

“Shit sorry!” Steve finds his footing, only to nearly lose it again when he looks up to find his face a few inches away from the aforementioned friend of Chrissy’s.

Eddie smiles, squeezes Steve’s waist once before releasing him, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”

Steve’s face must have been bloodshot at that point. Two people had called him sweetheart within the span of a few minutes. At this rate his brain was going to malfunction entirely.

Eddie studies him for a second, his eyes twinkling, before looking over to the now unoccupied table. He frowns, looking around the bar.

“She’s over there.” Steve points to where the two girls are deep in conversation.

Eddie’s eyes look from Steve to Chrissy and back again. “Were you heading back there?”

“Uh, no, actually,” Steve clears his throat. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “I was told to go talk to the scary metalhead?”

Eddie’s grin returned, showing off his dimples. Steve was allowing himself to stare at the man now, and god was he stunning.

“Scary? That’s rich coming from the girl who literally carries a knife with her.” Eddie sits down at the table and looks at Steve expectantly, “I don’t bite,” he gestures for him to sit, so he does.

“Apparently you do if I ask nicely,” Steve says, then feels his face heat up again when he hears what he said.

Eddie laughs, loud and beautiful, “God, she really knows how to play wingman, huh?”

#this is just a little experiment #had this idea at 3am #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #steddie au #modern steddie au

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m00npiez · 9 months

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He isn’t sure what to say to her about it— about the fact that he’ll never really forgive himself for leaving her behind or the fact that he’ll never forgive her for not leaving with him, for not leaving sooner, for not gathering him into the car the first time his father hit him when he was thirteen and saying we’ll figure it out.

- someone else’s favorite song by fastcardotmp3 on ao3

link

#idk what’s worse #my mommy or daddy issues #this fic really squeezed the most painful part of my trauma #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #fanfic #ao3

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m00npiez · 11 months

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and if steve dies in season 5 and total eclipse of the heart is playing while robin holds his dead body, what then?

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin angst #stobin #platonic stobin #platonic with a capital p #stranger things season 5 #steve harrington angst

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m00npiez · 1 year

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May we please have more "Steve's in a rare good mood moments"? 🥺 I love the way they love each other, ans everything about the EMTTS

If there is music playing in the house and it’s not a song from either of their Vecna playlists then it’s a good day. It’s a good mental health day. It’s a good brain day. Even though Eddie thinks that Steve has horrendous taste in music, nothing makes him happier than hearing it.

Someone asked Eddie a couple weeks ago what one of his favorite things about Steve is. And honestly, Eddie could spend the rest of his life telling people all the things that he loves about Steve, but he wants to show something specific.

He knows that Steve has been having a hard time lately with how some people on the internet are perceiving him. Eddie means it when he says that those people are idiots, but it bothers him too. It bothers him that people are misinterpreting someone as caring and loving as Steve.

He spends weeks trying to catch this specific moment that makes him fall in love all over again and one day, he comes home to the sound of music pouring out of the kitchen.

Eddie stands in the doorway with his phone, smiling.

Steve’s got his back to him as he cooks, shaking his hips to the music and singing along at a loud volume. Steve’s got a good voice, but Eddie loves these moments when he’s not subconscious about how he sounds. He loves the way he dances and how it hasn’t changed at all since all those high school parties.

When Steve turns around and spots Eddie, he points at him and sings, “You were born to be my baby and baby, I was made to be your man.”

Eddie laughs out loud when Steve dances over to him and pulls him further into the kitchen. The camera footage is a little shaky with them so close to each other, but right before the video cuts off, you can hear Steve say, “Dance with me, rockstar.”

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m00npiez · 1 year

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Eddie posts a Tiktok where him and Dustin are fucking around outside. In the background, you can see Steve standing on the porch having a conversation with their neighbor, Dan.

You can tell that the conversation isn’t a great one because Dan keeps gesturing to the pride flag they have in their garden and Steve looks increasingly annoyed. In a lull in Eddie and Dustin’s shenanigans, you can very clearly hear Steve say, “Actually, I’m bisexual and I’ll fuck your wife, Dan.”

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m00npiez · 1 year

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and that’s how you get yourself blocked

#pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou series #tlou

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m00npiez · 1 year

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steve is the type of bisexual who would very much deny being bisexual BUT NOT IN AN INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA WAY but in a stupid “im not gay im just comfortable with my sexuality” type of way

he would think its normal to admit when a man is conventionally attractive bc its just a Fact but what he doesnt realize is that its not very straight to want to makeout with that man

so you can imagine robins Shock when steve very nonchalantly says “eddie’s got a real badboy thing going on, im surprised he doesnt get any girls. i would let him push and kiss me against a wall” and only follows up with, “what? its not like a gay thing. he’s good looking. you cant deny that!” “yeah, hes good looking but i dont think i would go as far and say id let him kiss me against a wall??” “well yeah bc youre gay” “and you??? whats your excuse?”

he opens his mouth with a finger raised but pauses midair then promptly closes his mouth with a confused scowl on his face because what is his excuse?

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m00npiez · 1 year

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eddie knows that steve’s house isn’t a home. that he doesn't really actually feel comfortable there, or safe. it makes eddie sad every time he's over, along with the lack of photos and art and personality that could make it a home. he still stays over fairly often, sleeps in steve's bed, makes coffee and breakfast in the kitchen, lounges on the sofa.

steve’s parents come back without warning one day and find eddie and steve kissing in the kitchen.

nothing scandalous or inappropriate or anything like that. they’re both smiling, leaning over their coffee cups to peck each other's lips, (and eddie thinks the harringtons have the worst timing in all of human existence, because this is the first time they’ve kissed today), but catherine claps her hand over her mouth like they walked in on them fucking on the dining table. steve barely reacts when they walk in. he just sips his coffee slowly.

walter tells him to leave. his voice is quiet and lethally calm, and steve does as he says. eddie follows.

steve moves in with eddie that day, into the apartment the government gave them after the trailer was destroyed. it’s small, only slightly bigger than the trailer was, with two bedrooms. steve stays overnight enough that he practically already lives there, but now eddie makes space in his drawers for steve’s clothes. it doesn’t take long for their clothes to combine.

steve is quiet for a while after moving in. he doesn’t say much, doesn’t really look into eddie’s or wayne’s eyes.

wayne comes close and hugs him when he starts to cry, murmuring that he’s home now, that everything was gonna be okay. steve falls asleep in his arms when he finally stops crying.

steve doesn’t say it, but eddie knows he feels like a burden. one more stomach to feed, one more load of laundry. even with the hush money, times are tough. especially when no one will hire eddie.

so eddie reminds him as often as he can that he’s home. that nothing he and wayne do for him are favours, or just them being nice. that they love him and want him safe and cared for. he wakes him up by pressing kisses across his face, and he watches sports games with him (and asks questions so he can actually follow along), and he remembers how he takes his coffee, and he tells him every chance he can that he loves him. even silently, squeezing his hand under tables in public.

he knows steve doesn’t really believe him. or at least, that it’s hard for steve to believe him. it wouldn’t be easy, not when his own parents never said the words, when they told him without a second thought to leave the house he grew up in. he knows that steve doesn’t quite feel at home in the apartment, that he feels like he doesn’t belong there.

even though eddie and wayne do everything they can to make him feel safe, to make him feel at home. wayne comes home one day with printed photographs that he got after talking to joyce. photos of steve with his friends, with eddie and robin and nancy and jonathan, with the kids. photos jonathan took of them during campaigns, during movie nights and parties at the harrington house. the photos go up on the walls in eddie and steve’s room.

(except one. it’s a photo of eddie and steve on the sofa in the wheeler basement, steve laying on eddie’s chest, looking up into his eyes, playing with the guitar pick on his chest, and eddie is smiling softly at him, his arm around his neck, his fingers in his hair. eddie doesn’t even remember what they were talking about, just that he felt warm and cosy and safe. the photo is on the fridge. it’s wayne’s favourite.)

it takes a while for steve to get comfortable at the apartment.

eddie gets to watch it happen. at first, steve sits stiffly on the sofa unless he’s with eddie. (he likes to lean into him.) but after a while he starts to pull his legs up onto the sofa as he watches games with wayne or movies with eddie, sitting cross-legged or pulling his knees to his chest. for a while he needs eddie’s help remembering where the dishes go in the kitchen, which cups go in which cabinet, which order wayne’s mugs go in on the shelves. but he eventually stops asking.

one day eddie comes home from band practice to find steve doing the dishes. he’s wearing one of wayne’s flannels.

he wears eddie’s clothes often enough. usually his t-shirts and sweaters when they haven’t done the laundry, but he’s never worn anything of wayne’s.

‘hey, baby.’

eddie is stuck in the doorway, the strap of his bag still between his fingers, and steve turns to look over his shoulder at him.

‘eds?’

‘hi,’ eddie says weakly, looking at him. the flannel is rolled up to his elbows, and when steve turns to look at him in concern, eddie sees that the flannel is hanging open to reveal one of eddie’s motörhead shirts.

‘hey,’ steve says, quickly shutting off the water and drying his hands before he comes over, holding eddie’s face as eddie’s eyes fill with tears. ‘did something happen? what’s wrong?’

‘no,’ eddie chokes, blinking tears out of his eyes and dropping his bag to the floor. steve wipes the tears away tenderly, kissing his lips softly. ‘i’m fine, stevie.’

‘why are you crying?’

‘’m just…’ he takes a sharp breath, reaching up to hold steve’s waist, pushing under the flannel and holding him tightly. ‘kinda like… overwhelmed? with how much i love you? and how— how happy i am?’

steve’s face softens.

‘baby,’ he breathes. eddie’s lip quivers. he slides his hands to grip the lapels of the flannel before he reaches to trace the scars around his neck. ‘i love you too.’

eddie pulls him into a hug, holding him tightly as he waits for his tears to stop. steve waits with him, playing with the ends of his curls, running a hand up and down his back. eddie is sniffling when he finally stops crying, and steve holds his face in his hands, wiping his cheeks and kissing him softly, over and over, until eddie is giggling, smelling the dish soap on his hands.

but eddie just starts crying again when steve says casually and easily and lightly, ‘do you know what time wayne is coming home?’

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