#lawyer!Steve harrington

[calumfmu]

hoping everything bends

Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader (based off this request)

You didn't plan on meeting him that day. It was an accident really. A mistake that should've had you fleeing from the door, but the second you laid your eyes on him, you knew this was an opportunity you couldn't pass up. (2.9k+ words)

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, p in v, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, rough sex, older!Steve, mean!Steve (in the best way possible), age gap (mid-twenties reader),

soon to be one of my favorite fics that i've started, thank you to the original anon who requested it! title is based off of cable management by violets crush, i've taken some inspiration from the lyrics for the pov for reader. so check it out <3

You didn't plan on meeting him that day. It was an accident really. Rushing into the office, you tripped over the high Louboutin's on your feet, stumbling over nothing as you reached down to adjust them. You repeatedly pressed the open door button on the elevator, cursing as it took its sweet time opening. You were running about fifteen minutes behind, waking up from a drunken slumber about 45 minutes ago, New York City traffic betraying you as always.

A receptionist looked up at you through her small frames, grimacing slightly--something you had assumed was to be a smile.

Giving her your last name, you patted your ring finger against the gloss of your lips.

"Twelve o'clock?" She confirmed, typing away at the monstrous computer in front of her. You nodded, straightening up as she pointed you in the right direction.

"Left or right?"

"Right!"

Rapping your knuckles against the tall wooden door, your skirt suddenly felt too short, too unprofessional to meet with this lawyer. He was an old family friend apparently, someone who had helped your dad with his 5th or 6th divorce, you couldn't remember at this point. He was spoken highly of, someone who handled business straight to the point--assisted your family name in getting everything they wanted.

A soft call beckoned you in, the door opening under your grasp to reveal floor to ceiling windows, highlighting the city that stood in front of you. The room was empty, save for a few pieces of furniture, metallic against the stark white of the room.

A man stood with his back to you, leaning against one of the windows as he peered out, a black coffee in his grip. He spoke on a phone in his other hand, frustration dripping in his voice as he discussed terms with them.

"Have a seat, I'll be right with you."

You tip toed as best as you could to the desk, finding a seat in one of the chairs. The desk was organized--meticulously so, a single pencil laid next to a ballpoint pen, aligned with a black leather bound planner. A computer was pushed in the far corner of the desk, neat and organized as the rest of the items, a single keyboard placed in front of you. There were smaller items in the opposite corner, a small lamp, fake plant, framed picture of what appeared to be a group of people.

You ran a finger along the length of the desk, testing your theory if there were to be a speck of dust found anywhere. There wasn't.

"Sorry about that," the man hummed, sliding out his chair to take a seat. Glancing up at him, a small gasp escaped your lips.

"Oh, you're cute," you whispered, smiling to yourself as you took him in. His hair was pushed back out of his face, styled so his gray speckled hair poked out from his hairline, framing his face perfectly. Thin wire glasses adorned his face, resting on the tip of his nose bridge, a pair of plump pink lips beneath them.

A blush crossed his features briefly before he cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at you.

"And you smell like alcohol," he shot back, dragging his eyes over your frame. Winking at him, you pulled up the hem of your top, brushing your fingers over your exposed breast bone.

"Long divorce, long night."

"Ah," there was a slight smirk on his lips, a glint in his eyes that you decided would be dangerous for you. You could deal with that later though. "Last name? I don't remember having a twelve, but I may have overlooked it."

He opened the planner in front of him, scanning the pages for your name as it fell from your mouth. Frowning slightly, he hummed, leaning over to type something in his computer.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door flung open, an even older man appearing in the frame. He didn't even look at you, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the metal, fingers gripping his nose bridge, eyes squeezed shut.

"Remind me why I do family favors, again?" His voice was gruff, irritation lacing his tone. "Second time, we've tried to reschedule, and this chick won't show up."

The man in front of you cleared his throat, glancing at you as he began to put two and two together.

He cut the man off from the speech that began to pour out of his mouth, "Uh.. Harrison?"

The older guy stopped, eyes finding you for the first time. His eyes widened as he straightened up, adjusting the tie that sat around his neck.

"I'm in the middle of something here."

"Right, sorry, Harrington," he fled just as quickly as he arrived, the door shutting behind him. Reality hit you as it made a soft thud that echoed in the otherwise quiet room, you sinking into the chair a little.

"I take it you're supposed to be his twelve," that smirk only deepened as he looked at you, a sheepish look crossing your features. Smiling innocently in return, you sucked at your teeth, running it along them.

"I won't tell if you won't."

Shaking his head at you, he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs wide as he pulled at his jacket lapels, huffing with the movement. Your eyes trailed down his form, lingering at the fabric where it bunched around his abdomen, dipping down into his groin.

"I'm going to be honest, kid, I don't know if I have room for another client right now," he began, speaking with his hands. He didn't notice your curious gaze, his own eyes focusing on his desk as he gave you the run down. "What do you have to be? 30? 31? Harrison, there, he's the best money could buy in this industry right now, with the most time. Used to young clients too. You're better off with him."

Pulling your eyes away from him, you shrugged, crossing your legs. Your skirt pushed up a little bit, exposing more of your thigh than would be considered appropriate for the setting. You pretended not to notice him look at you as you leaned over the desk, elbows perched on the cool wood.

"''M 25," You gave him the same smirk back, watching the way he briefly looked away, muttering 'Jesus Christ' under his breath at your age. "And I have all the money in the world to want you."

His eyebrows raised at your suggestive tone, clicking his teeth together as he thought of what to say next. You beat him to it.

"I think you'd be pretty good for me," your voice was low as your leaned over the desk, your chest beginning to spill from your strapless top that hugged your body. His gaze was unfaltering, focused on your face as you began to tease him.

"I doubt that's hardly appropriate or professional."

He stood up from the desk, adjusting his jacket once more before holding a flat hand out, gesturing towards the door.

"Ma'am?"

Your face fell as the rejection hit you, your mouth falling open in surprise. You weren't used to this, instead having men fall at your feet before and during your marriage even, used to throwing out the tens, hundred even of suitors that you plague you during the weeks.

Standing up, you leaned a hand against his desk, the other resting on your hip. "Sir."

He let out a deep sigh before running a hand over his perfectly styled hair. Knowing you weren't going to move, he crossed his hands over his chest.

"You're stubborn, aren't you?" His voice was firm as he rounded the desk to your side, landing feet away from you. From this proximity, you could smell the musk from his cologne, filling your nostrils with a slightly sweet scent. It only turned you on more.

"Don't you have to in this industry to get what you want?"

A genuine smile cracked through, warmth from his eyes showing as he (finally) dragged his eyes over your figure.

"Smart girl."

Those words did wonders for you, warmness pooling between your thighs as you took a step towards him. He backed away slightly, maintaining his professional composure.

"Harrington-"

"Steve."

Your smile deepened, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. "Steve. I don't see a wedding ring, so what's the problem?"

"Ironic, isn't it?" He didn't back away from you as you cornered him, placing a hand on his chest as he leaned against his desk, one of his hands grazing your thigh. He looked down at you, his eyes slightly hooded as you tilted your head up at him.

"Is it my age? Is that scaring you?"

Steve remained silent, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. You could see the hesitation on his face, your question answering himself.

You trailed your hand up his chest, dancing your fingers along his neck, up to the nape of his hairline. "Well, I can promise you, I know what I'm doing."

A small nod left him, his head leaning down slightly to breathe you in, his lips parting. You craned your neck up to brush your mouth against his own.

"I could even teach you a few things."

A moan escaped you as he crashed his lips into yours, all professionalism leaving through the window. His hands found your waist, gripping the skin there as he spun the two of you around, lifting you up so you sat at the desk.

Your legs immediately came up to wrap around his hips, your hand pulling him further into you. He tasted like mint, his tongue finding its way between your parted lips, making claim there.

You leaned back against the desk, laying flat against it as he pushed you down, leaning over your body as his hands roamed free, grabbing at every exposed part of skin you had to offer. The largeness of them had you gasping into his mouth, eyes rolling back behind closed eye lids as you imagined them elsewhere, dipping inside of you.

Pulling away, he pressed kisses to your jawline, the scruff on his face leaving redness as he sucked in a few marks, nipping at the skin as he led himself lower.

"Steve," you moaned, gripping at his hair. He leaned back, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he pushed up the material.

"Don't touch the hair," he quickly said, pressing a kiss at your chest before sinking to his knees. You rolled your eyes at him, spreading your legs anyways as he slid down your panties, throwing them to the side. "I'm at work."

You could barely spit out a response before his mouth made contact with your wet cunt, licking you open immediately. A strangled moan was choked out, your hands shooting out to grab onto anything you could find. The organized items you recognized from before fell onto the floor, loud clatters filling the room.

His tongue left you briefly, Steve shushing you as he hitched your knee over his shoulder. Returning his mouth to you, your back arched, the wetness between your legs increasing.

You didn't know if it was him or you that had you dripping, your core tightening as he worked his magic, tongue flicking in and out of you, one of his fingers nurturing your clit under its touch.

"Steve, Steve," his name fell out of your mouth in a mantra, your eyes squeezed shut. Reaching behind you, you curled your hand over the edge of his desk beside your head, pushing your hips into his face even further.

He moaned at the push against his face, shoving his face in even deeper. His mouth alternated between licking at you, diving his tongue in and out of your wet hole and leaning up to suck at your clit, working fast as you fell apart around him.

"I'm gonna-"

It was fast, over just as quickly as it happened, your legs tightening around his head as you came, orgasm coursing through the length of your spine. Your eyes opened, staring up at the high ceiling as he tongue fucked you through it, running his thumb over your clit.

"Such a good girl." His words were addicting, praises that had you wanting to continue. You knew it was bad, just how good this felt, but you didn't care, it had been so long since you had a decent lay, this attention feeling like heaven.

Whining, the over stimulation felt like a strange vice, something you knew you shouldn't have, but so pleasurable at the same time. Steve removed himself from between your legs, leaning up to return his mouth to yours. You tasted yourself on his lips, the area around his mouth dripping wet with your release.

His hands were pulling at his belt, pushing at his boxers, releasing himself in a swift motion. Your lips were pushed together so sloppily, loud smacks filled the air as he ran the head of his cock through your folds once, twice, three times before sliding in.

Snaking your legs around his hips, you pulled him deeper, the stretch burning so right.

"Slow do-oh fuck--please, slow down," he muttered, resting his forehead against yours. One of his hands rested on the desk beside your head, the other trailing down the length of your leg. Stopping at your heel, he freed your foot from the constraint of the Louboutin, it already hanging half way off.

Tossing it away from the two of you, he pulled your leg up higher on his hip. You cursed at him, two thousand dollars being carelessly thrown to the other side of the desk.

"I'll buy you a new pair, relax," he said, pressing one more kiss to you before rearing his hips back. You expected him to slam into you, only for him to carefully ease his way back in, rolling his hips in a way that had you shaking already.

You moaned, dragging your nails up under his shirt. The crisp material bunched up under your hands, pulling half way up his back.

Your words came out stuttered, groans falling from your lips as you struggled, "Perfect, this se-season, ah, right there, is to die f-for. Fuck, Steve."

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, as he sat up, hand beside your head leaving the desk to press against your mouth. He muffled your moans, thrusting into you repeatedly as he picked up his pace. The desk was shaking under the movement of your two bodies, his computer threatening to topple over.

The ruddy head of his cock pressed against your walls, hitting that sweet spot over and over. You could barely hold back your screams of excitement, grateful for the large hand that muffled them from fully coming out. They would have sure been heard from miles away, urging concern from his colleagues who shared the floor. Hell, maybe even a few floors down.

Steve was getting close, his head falling back in pleasure as he repeatedly bottomed out, pushing in deeper each time compared to the last. You pulsed around him, dripping as he drew you closer to your second orgasm.

His hips stuttered a few times before he came, filling your cunt deep as he pushed in one last time to the hilt. That final push was all it took for you to be sent over the edge, pulsing around his twitching cock as it was nestled deep inside you.

His hand left your mouth, running over the side of your cheek as you leaned into it, spent from the high. He tested himself once more, once small push of his hips inside again before you whined, reaching down to press your fingertips against his stomach. He got the hint, pulling out of you with a squelch that filled the air, white ribbons of cum spilling out of you.

He grabbed your hand in his, pressing a small kiss to the back of it as you reached down with the other, feeling the mess he left behind.

"Good girl."

Groaning, you shook your finger at him in a warning, sitting up on your elbows. "Don't start that again, please."

Your legs fell from around his hips as he took a step back, adjusting himself back into his pants. He took a look around the room, as if someone would be watching, his hand brushing down his face.

"Same time tomorrow?" You asked, pulling down your skirt as you stood up on one heel, the other on the desk chair pushed opposite of you two. You turned on the desk, leaning over to grab it as you pushed your ass in his direction, teasing him one final time.

As you turned around and sat up, you noticed the vacant look behind his eyes as his eyes lingered on you, pants being left unbuckled, his belt hanging loosely from the loops. "I actually have a twelve tomorrow."

You shook your head at him, walking over to him as you grabbed the discarded pair of panties that were draped over one of the open drawers. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smirked up at him, "Better start making some arrangements then."

The look on his face returned to what it was during the heat of the moment, a dark stare with his mouth parted open in want. You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, a smear of the remnants of your gloss left on the skin.

Tucking your underwear into the waistband of his pants, you took a step back from him, pulling your skirt down even more.

"Hold onto those for me, yeah?"

Another mutter of 'Jesus Christ' was heard as you walked over the door, swinging it open to reveal the long hallway you came from. You were giddy as you smiled to yourself, the fun of this separation finally coming to fruition.

masterlist. inbox and requests are open! <3

a/n: long awaited I know! but here it is! I hope you loved it anon, I love you. I decided to put this as as stand alone instead of in the request because I wasn't sure how long it was going to be.

[eldritch-thrumming]

what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn’t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

[steddieasitgoes]

Busker Eddie who always sets up right outside The Harrington and Son Law Firm because the overhang of the tall building gives him the best acoustics, and it’s right across from the subway line.

Sure he has to deal with Mr. Harrington calling the police on him for soliciting every time he shows up. But the tips he makes are worth it. Plus, he’s managed to win over the chief of police Hopper, who never writes Eddie up. He thinks it’s because Hopper has some kind of feud with Harrington, but he doesn’t ask. It’s better not to get involved.

Eddie’s busking his heart out one day. Giving his all to a small group of tourists gathered around him when a Young Suit marches over to him. Fights his way through the tourists, gets his hands on Eddie’s shirt, and yanks him away from the crowd.

The Young Suit is dressed like all the other suits who sneer at Eddie as they head into the building every afternoon. But this Young Suit doesn't look anything like the rest of them. His hair is fluffy and styled to perfection, nothing like the clean-shaven and buzzed heads Eddie's used to. His walk is a little less polished, dress shoes a size too big on his feet, Eddie guesses. But it's his eyes that really give him away. They're not dark and dead like every other suit who sold their soul to the devil. There's a glimmer of life behind this guy's eyes, enough that Eddie doesn't immediately start his rant about how lawyers are the devil reincarnated.

He still gives him shit though.

"What the fuck man?"

"Look, I don't want to do this," Young Suit says, running a hand through his hair. "But my dad's ready to throw the fax machine out the window if you don't leave so can you please find somewhere else to busk?"

Dad, huh?

Eddie can work with that.

"Ah, so you're the son in Harrington and Son's Law Firm," Eddie says, a salacious grin appearing on his face. "Sorry, Harrington Jr., but no can do. This is my spot. Tell daddy I have the license to prove it."

Harrington Jr. sighs dramatically before his hands land on his hips. He looks like an exasperated soccer mom.

A cute exasperated soccer mom.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Could you at least change the days you're here then?" Harrington Jr. asks. "My asshole dad never works on Mondays and Tuesdays. If you busk those days, I'll make sure no one calls the cops on you."

"Like I said, no can do," Eddie says, casually. "I make most of my rent money on Thursdays and Fridays. Daddy dearest will have to deal with it."

"Don't do it for him, do it for me."

"And why would I do anything for you?" Eddie asks, caught off guard for the first time in a long time.

Harrington Jr. gets a wicked look in his eyes. Lips twitching upward in a smirk that has Eddie's knees seconds away from buckling.

"Because I actually like your voice and want to hear more of it without my dad screaming and threatening violence in the background," he says, laying the compliment on thick. "I can also make it worth your while."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"I have a friend who works at the club on 9th. One phone call and you can be performing on a real stage for people who don't smell like stale subway air. You're too good to be performing on street corners."

The offer is tempting, it is. But Eddie can hear his uncle's nagging voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him not to take offers from strangers, especially not pretty ones who can't be trusted.

"Tell you what, Harrington Jr." Eddie flirts. "I'll think about it, while I finish my set. Till then, I'm not leaving. "

"Better keep watch for flying fax machines then," Harrington Jr. sighs again, finally dropping his hands from his hips. He turns to go back inside but stops abruptly, digging in the pockets of his pants before pulling a thick wallet out. He leafs through it before tossing an impressive stack of bills in Eddie's open guitar case.

Eddie waits for him to say something else, but he never does. Just stuffs the wallet back in his pocket and drags himself back inside the building.

When Eddie's sure Harrington Jr. is back inside, he kneels down to inspect his earnings. He nearly passes out when he spots three crisp hundred dollars bills lying under a business card that reads:

Steve Harrington Associate Lawyer Harrington and Son Law Firm 646-442-8422

Well played, Eddie thinks as he pockets the business card with Steve's number. Well played, indeed.

[bettyfrommars]

thinking about falling for your divorce lawyer one mr steve harrington 😘

Oh, you little sneaky 🥹

I'm envisioning him as someone who did not want to go into that profession, not at all, but he felt pressured by his mostly absent father, and so he learned the basics, enough to get by. He ends up loving the work and diving into it wholeheartedly once he realizes he can help people, but he never charges enough, if anything, so he often struggles financially.

You wanted to settle everything amicably, but now your soon-to-be ex-husband has a fancy lawyer (his parents are loaded) and you're shuffling down the sidewalk in tears, trying to figure out what to do, when you see Steve's face on a bench at the bus stop. The sight of his easy grin makes you feel light for the first time in days, and you see that he specializes in "affordable" services.

His office is in shambles, not because he's a messy person, but he's over-worked and understaffed. His best friend Robin is his secretary, and she's on the phone when you enter, while the three other lines blink for the callers who are on hold. Robin looks ecstatic to see you, motioning for you to take a seat in one of the four orange, plastic chairs against the wall.

The door with the frosted window across from her desk bursts open, making some papers fly off the desk, and Steve yanks down the necktie that hangs loose around his neck. Shirt sleeves rolled up to expose some forearm tattoos, scalp glistening in sweat, and his hair is imprinted with the lines of his fingers from running a hand through it all day.

You get to your feet, but Steve doesn't see you. Robin puts the receiver to her chest to hear what he has to say, but her eyes keep darting to you.

"My cupboards are stocked with Ramen noodles in case you want a movie night this weekend," he stretches his arms wide with a hearty yawn. The next part he says in a whisper, "unless you're still dating what-her-face with the hyena laugh from the Estee Lauder counter at the mall."

Robin puts the phone back to her ear and says a cordial goodbye to whoever was on the other line, and then she hangs up and tries to gesture in your direction.

"I will say, I like her better than the grumpy one you had a crush on at---"

"Steve!" Robin cuts him off, and he rests his hip against the desk to cross his foot over his ankle. "Your 4:00 is here."

You notice him visibly stiffen, head snapping in your direction, but then his face softens, a sincere smile warming all the way to his eyes. A few more swipes of his hand through his hair for good luck.

You hug your coat tighter and introduce yourself.

Steve's cheeks flush pink from embarrassment, and he extends his arm for a firm, comforting handshake. He notices that your eyes are puffy, most likely from crying and lack of sleep, mascara smudged at the corners.

He leans in with a soft pat to your arm. "Now, let's give your husband something to cry about."

(I'm not very good at writing/imagining white collar Steve, but damn I really giggled and got excited about this ask. Thank you, whoever you are 😘)

[estrellami-1]

Someone help because I don’t have nearly the legal jargon knowledge to turn this into the fic it could be.

“Nancy,” Eddie gasps into the receiver as soon as she answers. “I need a huge favor. Like, huge.”

Nancy hums. “What’s up?”

“I need you to expose the Harrington Firm.”

“For?”

“Uh. Fraud? Extortion?”

“Ah.” She chuckles lightly and says the one thing he’s never heard her say before. “No can do, Eddie, sorry.”

“What?” His brain helpfully supplies, you kick Miette? He ignores his brain.

“I can’t expose what’s not there, Eddie. Listen, I’ve gotta go, Robin just came in with an urgent look on her face, but I’ll call you later, okay? We’ll do lunch sometime!”

And without another word, she hangs up, leaving Eddie’s brain buzzing along with the dial tone in his ear.

Can’t expose what’s not there, she said. Which means-

Oh, no.

She doesn’t know.

Eddie rolls his shoulders and nods decisively to himself. She won’t do it? Fine. He’ll do it himself.

[steddilly]

Criminal lawyer Steve Harrington and mob boss Eddie Munson. Everyone thinks Steve is chained to the dangerous man, hell the guy even has the lawyer living in his house to keep him close just in case.

In actuality, they’re married and on days when he isn’t working, Steve is a regular mob wife for his husband. When he’s working, he wears his wedding ring on a chain around his neck, but he wears it happily on his hand when he’s out with Eddie.

[imsodishy]

something something King Steve's King Dick

[kittyvolvox]

tag ur shit properly

i'm seriously so tired of accidentally running into other stranger things fans critising nancy bc they haven't tagged anti nancy wheeler. it actually annoys me so much. it also sucks how prevalant ppl critising nancy is bc most of the critism doesn't actually come from something legitimate - bc that i could deal with, it usually comes from not reading between the lines.

like people saying nancy and jonathan got together whilst she was still dating steve? guys, guys, watch the party scene followed directly by the scene where steve asks nancy if she loves him and tell me that's not a break-up. tommy h and dustin even call it a break-up, something that steve doesn't correct them on.

when steve is bringing flowers to nancy's house (when he runs into dustin) the implication is that he wants to rekindle things/win her back. what would there be to rekindle if they were still together? answer: they're not fucking together anymore. duh.

then in the s2 finale steve says "i was a shitty bf". WAS. as in no longer together as in they broke up. he even proceeds to tell nancy to go with jonathan with the implication being that he understands there's something going on between them and is okay with it. WHY WOULD HE BE OKAY WITH THAT IF HE WAS STILL DATING NANCY? HE WOULDN'T OMG!

if steve and nancy didn't break up during their 'do you love me?' talk, tell me when exactly they did, because they are certainly not together by the s2 finale or s3.

if you think nancy is a cheater you either have low media literacy skills or you just want to find a reason to dislike her.

[calumfmu]

i could send you a million requests!

having an affair with your divorce lawyer steve 😏

HIII HUNNNN. Thank you for your patience love <3 Here it is in all its glory, smut, smut, smut oooo Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader (2.3k+ words of pure smut) cw: 18+, mdni, smut, riding, unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, dirty talk, ugh, all Steve goodness, set in NY, famous!reader,

Three drinks down, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you only had one thing on your mind. Freedom. It was seven months into this divorce--if you could even call it that. A messy separation, public legal dispute that was plaguing the city's newspapers, headlines screaming about the famous ex-ball player's divorce with New York's once most eligible bachelorette.

Hitting the town three days in a row seemed like a good idea in retrospect, but it was really starting to get to you and your reputation. But as you chased that sixth tequila shot with lime, it was the last thing on your mind.

"Hey, isn't that..." your friend's voice trailed off as she pointed her beer towards someone across the bar. You followed the point of the bottle, gaze focusing on a tall man--Steve.

A Cheshire grin spread across your face, eyes widening as you recognized him, his mole dotted face, thin wire glasses framing his face as he laughed with a group of other suits, those you knew as his colleagues.

"Oh my God," you whined, immediately downing the shot that was supposed to be for her. She protested, hands throwing up around her as she watched you finish it with a grimace. "What is he doing here?"

She shrugged, swigging out of the glass as she eyed him down. Her bobbed hair swung in the air as she tilted her head down to fully drink him in.

"You know if I was straight I'd be all over that," she replied, turning around to face the bar. Your eyes remained on the older guy, tongue darting out to lick at the corner of your mouth.

"Robin!" You squealed, swatting at her arm. She giggled in response, arm waving to capture the attention of the bartender.

"I'm just saying," her tone was suggestive, eyebrows wiggling with her words. "You should just get after it, I mean... see what Harrington & Partner really has to offer."

You considered her point, your own head tilting down to observe him as his head tilted back with laughter. From across the bar, you could see the stretch of his neck, the expanse of skin being exposed to show more moles, disappearing behind the fitted collar of his dress shirt. The dark bar lighting did wonders for him, highlighting the amber high lights of his hair, showing off the small gray wisps that poked out at his hairline, a testament to how men age like fine wine.

"I've already seen what it has to offer," you said under your breath, grabbing her beer out of her hand. She whined again as you finished it off, slamming it on the counter behind you. "And I want more."

Her jaw dropped, eyes widening as she took in your words.

"What do you mean you've already seen it?"

Laughing, you took a step away from her, bag fitted over your shoulder as you adjusted the dress you wore. "Long story. Late night. Tedious divorce papers. Did I say that out loud?"

She reached a hand out to you, but you dodged it, backing away from her as you made your way over to his group. Her eye roll was enough for you to know you were making a bad decision, but you couldn't care. Your mind was set on one thing only.

"Steve!" You cheered, waving at him as he looked at you confused. Immediately, his gaze dipped across your figure, dress hugging your curves in all the right places.

He covered it up with a cough, eyes widening as he suddenly realized he was in the presence of those he worked with. The sound of your name rolled off of his lips, a surprised cackle of speech.

"What are you doing here?" It was less of a question and more accusatory.

Your mouth dropped open in a wide smile as you held your arms out. "Celebrating my separation, freedom."

Realization crossed his features as your words slurred, the intoxication becoming clear as you lingered a little too close for comfort. The men he surrounded himself with eyed you as well, eyes flickering over you as you teetered on the heels in your feet.

"Ah," he muttered, tongue smacking against his teeth as he took a step back. His hand came up to adjust the tie that was fitted around his neck. "I see. Just a few months away from that."

The suits laughed, deep chuckles of laughter that screamed money. Old money, New York money, jurisprudence, whatever you wanted to call it. Rolling your eyes, you felt all the confidence of the tequila shots you took, pressing a hand to his arm. His eyes dropped to it, slowly dragging away to peer down at you over his wire frames.

"Excuse me," he said to the group, placing a hand to your lower back to drag you away from them. He lead you through the crowd, pressing you into a dark corner of the swanky bar. On the way, you had seen Robin, her thumbs up thrown in your direction.

"What are you doing?" He whispered again, backing you into a wall. He towered over you, immediately, you were weak in the knees, this interaction normally being behind the closed doors of his 30th story office.

Your hand found his arm again, trailing up the expanse of it as you craned your head back, a soft bump against the wall.

"Having fun," you sighed, biting your lip as he took a step closer to you. His scent overwhelmed you, warmth beginning to pool into the pit of your stomach as you rested a foot up against the wall.

"This is a bad look," he suddenly grew professional, straightening up as your hand left his arm and began to trail down his abdomen.

You rolled your eyes, dragging out a groan that bordered childish.

"You're a bad look," you retorted, reaching up to grab the lapels of his suit. Tugging him closer to you, you pressed your lips to the side of his neck. "You're wearing too many clothes."

He pulled away from you again, clearing his throat as he urged you from the wall. Fast in his movements, his hand was at the small of your back, pulling you towards a back exit, one you were unaware that was even there.

A black Lincoln sat in an alleyway, the door opening as he threw you in the backseat. You rolled your eyes as you sat up, pulling down your skirt as he slid in behind you. He muttered something to a driver, the car already moving as the world began to spin around you.

"You can't have people seeing you like this," he muttered, shaking his head as he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttered shut.

"Relax, nobody saw."

"Hmm," he was annoyed, the tone of his voice short. "You don't know that for sure. There's too much at stake right now, especially with the way his side is going."

You groaned, leaning fully into him as you began to trail a hand over his body. Touching any skin you could get was the only thing you were focused on, hastily unbuttoning his shirt as the car began to make turns throughout the city. He didn't oppose, only settled into the back seat of the vehicle even further.

"I don't want to talk about him."

You climbed into his lap, squeezing in the small space as you pressed your lips to his. His hands found your ass, squeezing as he ground you down into him. The stubble on his face scratched at yours, your jaw rubbed raw as the two of you made out, tongues fighting against each other.

"I think you're," he muttered in between kisses, his hands beginning to lift your skirt as your hands found his belt buckle. "The worst client I've ever had."

"Mmmm," you groaned, pulling his belt buckle loose. It clanked in the air, followed by the sound of the driver sliding the separation window closed. "Talk dirty to me, Harrington."

He laughed into the kiss, lips slotting into yours perfectly as you freed him from his pants. His cock was angry red, swollen through its length as you briefly looked down to grip at him. The girth of it alone had you watering at the mouth, wishing you had the freedom to sink to your knees.

You pulled away from him, pressing him back down into the cushion of the seat as he chased your mouth, leaning up as he wanted more. He groaned at your touch, his head leaning back against the headrests.

"Need you to fuck me," you whispered, adjusting so the cave of your pussy sat right over him. A pant escaped him as he felt your wetness, encasing him as you grinded down on him.

"You're gonna get me fired, hun," he moaned, teeth digging into his lip as you lifted off of him, angling him so his head pressed at your entrance. The small stretch of his tip had you mewling, the intoxication of the alcohol leaving your body as you got drunk off of a new feeling.

"We've barely left Manhattan," the grunt of words only worsened as you pressed lower, his length stretching you wide. His hands found your hips, guiding you lower.

Your knees sat on the sides of his hips, locking him in as you stopped half way, hovering above him. With your head tilted back, staring up at the ceiling of the car, your eyes watered, the heat of the moment making you so caught up that you cursed at your previous idea of skipping the foreplay.

"You talk too much," you whispered, pressing all the way down. Stretched down to the hilt, the both of you sat in silent groans, his hand finding the back of your neck to press his forehead into yours.

From this angle, you could see the chocolate brown of his eyes, sunken with desire, his lids hooded in pleasure.

"fuck." The hand that never left your hip raised you, a soft squelch filling the back seat as your wetness dripped around him.

As you began to bounce on his cock, his moans began to grow louder, fingers digging marks into your hip. The press of his cock deep inside made you feel weak, that spongy spot not being granted mercy as he drove into you.

"Steve," you groaned, swirling your hips as he mouthed at your neck, deep colored marks being left in his wake. The heat of his touch added to the fire pooling in your belly, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

Look at my dirty girl.

His words could've gotten you right then and there, if it were not for the alcohol in your system prolonging your orgasm. You loved it when he called you names like that, claiming you as his even when you both knew you weren't.

Such a bad girl.

That one had you squeezing your eyes even tighter, your hands resting on the tops of his shoulders as you rode him, bouncing in a frenzy that he had yet to see. The scratch of his suit pants against your ass was oddly soothing, distracting you from the white hot feeling building faster and faster.

"Need you to fuck me harder," you whimpered, reaching a hand up to tug at his hair. The sounds he made to the yank on his scalp had you pulling closer to your orgasm, legs shaking as he began to match you half way, hips lifting off of the seat.

A ring of white began to form at the base of his cock, wetness from your pussy building into a thick cream, your release teetering on the edge. He was close to his own release, his breath coming short as he fucked you, hips moving into an uneven pattern.

"Gonna cum all in you i-if you keep talking like that," he tried being strong in his words, but his voice failed him, cracking in the middle.

A small smile ghosted your lips, knowing exactly what it would take to get him to paint you white, release deep inside of you.

"Cum inside me," you whined, sinking lower as you pressed your lips to the shell of his ear. Your voice was low, scratchy from the frequent moans, borderline shouts he drew out of you.

"Make me yours, Steve."

He groaned, hands locking behind your hips as he began to drive into you, slapping sounds filling the air. Your hand snaked down to circle at your clit, tight circles around the nub that had your eyes rolling back.

"Show everyone who's pussy this really is."

With a low groan, he came inside you, fucking you through it as you found your release quickly after. It was the loudest one you had experienced, legs shaking as explosions tingled up your spine. His hips never slowed, riding out both of your highs.

You pushed off of him, collapsing into the empty leather next to him, legs sprawled wide open. Your chest heaved with exhaustion, yet adrenaline still coursed through you, tequila urging another round already.

"How soon do you think is too soon for me to marry my divorce lawyer?"

He laughed at your words, tucking himself away as he peered out the window. The city lights were far in the background, familiar streets nearing his home coming up in the distance.

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, dear," he shook his head, leaning down onto you to press a kiss to your forehead anyways. You beamed at the press of his lips, tilting your head closer to him.

The look in his eyes that he gave you was sweet, something that you had once yearned for from your now-ex. You knew it was wrong, to be this smitten over your divorce lawyer, but God, was he beautiful.

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

also--not proofread, but should be in the next week or so :)

[wearefruits]

imagine this, Robin, local prosecutor for bum fuck no where Indiana, just a normal woman doing her best to keep the town decent. Now, enter, Nancy Wheeler, famous defense attorney coming all the way from New York City to defend a wealthy, and corrupt doctor at the local laboratory which had been mysteriously burned down, inside, bodies.

[loveshotzz]

best friend’s dad steve waiting to hear the guest room shower running so he can sneak into your room. you haven’t even gotten into the shower when he lets himself into the bathroom. you’re just standing naked in front of the mirror taking your earrings off. you’re startled at first, but he’s so quick to move you hardly have time to react before he’s behind you, pushing you down onto the counter and pulling his already hard cock from his checkered pajama bottoms. he fucks you recklessly, hoping the sound of the running water is enough to keep your moaning and crying muffled while your best friend preps christmas morning breakfast.

merry christmas, your gift is a pussy full of steve’s cum that he plugs into you with his fingers. he shuts the shower off because you’re not allowed to rinse.

CECE OHMYGOD I’M -

this would become his routine with you every morning, you start expecting it now already bent over and spread out for him by the third time around. his new favorite challenge is testing the strength of your birth control. not bothering to worry about what that would mean if he actually succeeded in it. he’s too drunk off the way your tight pussy wraps so eagerly around him to care.

[steddiejudas]

STWG Daily Drabble 2/16/24

Prompt: napping

this very nearly gets spicy but Eddie is just an eepy guy, anyway warning for a glimpse of daddy and breeding kink

“Where is she?” Eddie says, bursting through the door like a madman, crouching down with arms outstretched for his mini-me.

“‘Hi sweetheart, I can’t believe I’ve been gone for a week, I missed you so much,’” Steve mutters from the couch. He pushes his book aside and sends Eddie his best attempt at a withering glare over his glasses, but that look lost all its heat in ‘86 when Steve used it enough to last a lifetime, dragging Eddie’s ass through physical therapy.

Eddie’s smile warms as he drops down on the couch next to his heart, pulling him into the embrace they’ve both been missing like a lost limb.

“Hi sweetheart,” he says, pushing Steve’s bangs away from his forehead so he can leave a kiss right between his eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve been gone for a week. I missed you so much.” He says it so earnestly, it hurts, and Steve melts into him, holding on to Eddie like a lifeline.

“She’s napping,” Steve whispers from the space he’s built himself in the crook of Eddie’s neck, his home. “Just went down, so, we’ve got a couple hours.”

“Oh? And was there potentially something you wanted to do with that time?”

Steve blushes, and Eddie is hit with the thought that it is really such a treat that after years of fighting and recovery, fighting again, but this time just to find a place in the world, and now a 3 year old who has made all the pain worth it in the end, Steve still gets a little shy asking for what he wants.

“I just thought, well maybe if we try really hard… I know we never got it to stick, but I think we could try again.”

Eddie can feel his grin bordering on manic. “Oh, sweetheart. You want to be good for me? Let daddy make you feel good and fill you up, see if we can’t put a baby in you this time?”

“Yes! Please, daddy, can we?”

“Well since you asked so nicely, baby.”

Eddie stands without releasing his hold on Steve’s waist. Steve has to jump up a bit to wrap his legs around Eddie’s waist, nearly knocking his forehead into Eddie’s nose in the process, but for all the awkward limbs and narrowly avoided bloody noses, they’re laughing through it all the same, just happy to be back in each other's arms.

In their bedroom, thankfully soundproofed so they don’t wake the child, Eddie drops Steve onto the mattress with a heavy thud. He takes his time crawling up his partner’s picturesque physique, softened by fatherhood, but no less beautiful, lavishing attention at every spot of soft skin he can get his mouth on.

Until he reaches his neck and slows down to kiss and nip, leaving marks much lighter than they once used to claim each other with. Steve is a teacher now, and Eddie couldn’t be more proud, if only a little disappointed that he has to make sure any marks he leaves are coverable by his shirt or at least concealer now. It’s in the warmth and safety of Steve’s pulse, thrumming hard in his neck, that the exhaustion of the day hits Eddie all at once. He’s been traveling home from meetings with his publishing company, followed by two days of panels at San Diego Comic-Con since late last night, catching a red eye in the hopes of making it home for breakfast with Little One, just to stumble into his flight having been detoured, a four hour layover and a connecting flight nearly doubling his travel time.

“Eddie?” Steve asks softly. Eddie doesn’t stir, just huffs soft breaths into his skin.

Steve smiles fondly, wills his boner to calm the fuck down and pulls the blankets up around them. A nap it is, then.

Later, when Little One has decided sleep is for the weak, she’ll run into their bedroom, screaming in excitement at Eddie’s return. Steve will watch in loving exasperation as Eddie scoops her up and returns her excitement tenfold, before going to make second breakfast for his little hobbit, since he missed the first.

[toomanyacorns]

Whoever told me it was a good idea to read "You're Divine"....I hope you enjoy your special place in hell. I hope your pillow is warm and your sheets never stays on the bed.

[okurrroye]

They really had the perfect opportunity to have either Robin or Steve to fall for the cute volunteer girl but instead they milk old flames that should’ve burnt out

[steviesbicrisis]

Eddie, at the hospital post Upside Down, is out of it because of meds and keeps blabbering nonsense. Dustin visits him with Steve and Eddie keeps referring to him as his son.

Dustin replies jokingly with "Yeah and this is your husband, Steve" and rolls his eyes.

And if Eddie has some memory of parenting Dustin, he doesn't recall ever being in a relationship with Steve, which makes him come to the conclusion that he must've lost his memory.

Dustin feels immensely guilty as Eddie keeps apologizing to Steve in tears, for forgetting such a "wonderful and beautiful husband".

It goes on for a few days and surprisingly, Steve gets quickly adjusted to being Eddie's husband.

When Eddie is finally better and doesn't need that many painkillers, he still remembers how he acted around Dustin and Steve.

He's too embarrassed to face them again so he asks his uncle to keep them away if they ever come to visit again. And they do.

Steve barges into the hospital room "What the hell is going on?"

Eddie can't blabber anything coherent so Steve presses "Do you want to divorce me? is that it?"

To which, for some unknown reason, Eddie takes offense to "What the fuck, Harrington?"

"Oh, I'm 'Harrington' now? great" he replies, clearly pissed "No, fantastic! You'll have a word with my lawyer."

"Lawyer??"

"I'm taking Dustin and you'll have to pay for child support!"

"You can't take Dustin! He's my kid too!"

Wayne and Dustin observe their whole discussion from the entrance door, too scared to come into the room.

"Does Steve really have a lawyer?" Wayne muses.

Dustin turns to him, scandalized "They aren't married! I'm not their child!"

[space-invading-pigeon]

Steve Harrington's hero is his mother, who is kind and fierce and also off the rails crazy when she's pissed.

Steve's mom flushes his dad's heart medication if he doesn't speak to her with respect.

Steve's mom once put a body builder in the ICU because he called her baby boy a bastard child.

Steve's mom taught him how to knit and showered her only son in so much affection that in the one year she was traveling with his father, Steve was practically starved for affection.

Steve's mom offered to legally adopt Robin after the mall fire.

Steve's mom is the only lawyer/civilian to know what happened each time the Upside Down reared its ugly head.

Steve's mom arm has a standing Girl's Night with Wayne Munson (they watch football, drink, and gush over their teenage sons).

Steve's mom hugged Eddie when she was officially introduced to him and promised that she would treat him like a son for as long as he treated her baby right.

Steve's mom attacked Henry Creel during the final showdown and may have severed one of his arms; she doesn't quite remember but she does know that that Wheeler girl is twice as scared of her now.