#steve harrington needs therapy

[infinite-orangepeel]

petition for steve harrington to be in intensive therapy for s5 <3

[edvinssmedvin]

Choking Part 2

Read part 1 here

Summary: Eddie ignores Steve’s hesitancy. Starts off as Eddie’s POV and switches to Steve’s

CW: Angry Eddie, forcing oneself to talk while nonverbal, Silent treatment, intrusive thoughts including suicide.

Eddie didn’t understand, he had taken weeks to plan the trip.

He was even going to surprise Steve by taking him to see some basketball team he liked the next day after the concert.

But no, Steve couldn’t even suck it up by doing something Eddie likes. What kind of shitty boyfriend is he? Eddie was just asking him to do one thing he liked.

He doesn’t care what Steve says, they are going. He worked too hard for this to work for Steve just because he ‘doesn’t want to go’

So while Steve sleeps, he grabs a duffel bag hidden in his boyfriend's closet. Shuffling quietly around the room, careful to not make the slightest amount of noise.

Quiet as a mouse, he ruffles through Steve’s dresser, packing his essentials in his bag. Mentally checking off items in his brain, he’s about to grab a t-shirt to pack but when he lifts it-

He stops short when he finds letters hidden under one of the shirts.

It takes a lot of self-control not to look through them, reminding himself that if Steve doesn’t tell him what it is, he has to respect that.

He places the letters back and places the t-shirts back over it neatly and ignores the worry in his gut.

Steve wakes up with the same numbness in his stomach, his alarm going off way too early for him having the day off of work.

He rubs his eyes, shuffling just close enough to the edge of the bed to shut his alarm off when Eddie comes bustling into the room. he assumes Eddie had stayed the night, too tired to head to the trailer.

When his eyes scan over Eddie, he notices a bag in one of his ring-covered hands and and a poptart in the other.

“C'mon Steve! We have to go get the little shrimps, Indy waits for no man!” He shouts excitedly, causing Steve to wince at the sheer volume so early morning.

He opens and closes his mouth, once again trying to figure out how to get the words out. Hoping they don’t choke him-

“Eddie..” he wishes he could say more than that but his mind betrays him because all he can feel is it choking him.

Eddie places the stuff in his hand on the desk in Steve room, walking towards the bed.

His excited demeanor shifts, unreadable expressions on him, something Steve hasn’t seen before. “No buts Steve!” He exclaims once more.

Eddie goes on, “We promised the shrimps we’d take them and I spent too much money on this to back out because you don’t feel like it.” Eddie walks towards the bed and grabs Steve by the hands, forcing him into a standing position like he was moving a rag doll up.

“Get dressed Steve.”

And with that, Eddie turns around walks out of the room, grabbing his stuff off the desk on the way out.

And oh.

Eddie sounds mad, fuck.

He didn’t mean to make Eddie mad, he just feels so exhausted. He has to make it up to him, he can’t have Eddie hate him over it. He’s learned over the years, just small things can change everything.

He remembers when he was 10 and repeatedly asking his mom to take him to the park to see his friends the next day. She said she’d think about it but when the day came around, she snapped. All he can remember is tears flooding his eyes, blurring the world around him as she yelled. Her often quiet voice turned sickeningly aggressive.

He can’t remember much before that age but It was that day that his mom changed, one mistake and she was gone. leaving him with the nanny.

So he rushes to get ready, running to the bathroom so fast he almost slips on his socks. He brushes his teeth and pushes his hair up into something of a greasy flop on his head.

“Hurry, Steve!” He hears Eddie yell.

And he only goes faster, rushing back to the bedroom to get his clothes on. Running around as if his life depended on it.

When putting his shoes on, he wonders why his jeans feel weird and he realizes he put them on backward.

So then he has to take his shoes off and flip them around, succeeding only in wasting more time. Fuck.

He grabs his wallet, his keys, and his phone off of his nightstand, hoping Eddie has else everything he needs.

Somehow he made it out before Eddie.

So he hops in the driver's seat and waits for Eddie to make his way down to the parking lot, he nervously pops his knuckles hoping to relieve his fast-beating heart.

Butterflies make their way into his stomach, not the ‘I’m in love’ butterflies but butterflies full of dread. They swish and make his stomach tumble, they make his heart race and his head light but it’s nothing like floating in clouds, nothing like love. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Opening his eyes, he pushes his hair out of his face, the gentle touch makes the butterflies calm down only slightly.

He sees Eddie walking toward the car and he slips the key into the ignition and buckles his seatbelt.

He takes the chance to change the radio to a calming station, something quiet.

Eddie opens the door and hops in, slamming the door harshly afterward. He takes another deep breath.

He looks over at Eddie and the metalhead just looks the other way. Away from Steve.

He breaths in and out, reminding himself it’s not gonna choke him. He asks “Can you put your seatbelt on?” He asks quietly as possible, hoping to not feel the vibration of his voice.

he gains an eye roll from Eddie but he still puts his seatbelt on so he counts it as a win.

As he pulls out of the apartment parking lot, at the corner of his eye he can see eddies hand peaking out and changing the radio. He switches the calming station that he had picked out to something loud, not metal but something so loud he knows it would bother Steve.

And not only does the metalhead change it, but he also turns up the volume so loud you could hear the way the speaker grated with the music, like nails on a chalkboard. Steve psychically winces but doesn’t turn the music off.

Too afraid of Eddie’s reaction.

He’s about one mile away from the first kid's house, Dustin’s. He’s just passing Lilly Drive, where the trees tower over the road.

He wonders what would happen if he just took his hand off the wheel…

Would he crash into a tree? Will the glass from the windshield cut him? How much blood would there be? Would his brain-

“Steve? eyes on the road!” Eddie snaps him out of his thoughts, his eyes widen as he swerves along the road.

He takes control of the wheel and forcing the car to stop.

“Jesus Christ” Eddie mutters

He breathes heavily. He can’t believe he almost did that, he wasn’t even thinking. It was like he was moving on autopilot, unable to think and drive at the same time.

He turns to look at Eddie in the passenger. He wants to make sure he is okay but when his boyfriend meets his eye-

“Steve, park the car. I’m driving” and oh no, Eddie looks madder. He didn’t even realize that was possible.

He rushes to force out the words. It’s not choking him, he berates himself. “I’m okay, I can drive.” He doesn’t even know if he believes it.

He hears the seatbelt undo beside him—“I’m driving, Jesus Christ. Your just trying to ruin everything.”—and the passenger door slams.

Steve scrubs a hand over his face. Fuckk

Next part —>

Authors note:

I was bored and so I designed Steves apartment. so if u want to imagine what I think it looks like—

Also! If you have any question, comments or ideas please let me know! I’m kinda just having fun, I have a plot set up of how the story is gonna go but if u have any ideas id love to add them.

[orangesunsets12]

I can't stop thinking about Steve, after learning to paint from Will (Steve literally has no hobbies, why wouldn't Will try to teach him to paint?), soon painting his nightmares, using a paintbrush as therapy. He keeps the paintings to himself, locked in a bedroom in his home that's never used, too ashamed of the art he made, of what nightmares he brought to life, of what they represented, all of the pain, suffering, and death. But he couldn't stop. For some strange reason, painting the demons and ghosts that he faced was so much easier than talking about them.

He painted everything he saw in his nightmares, his brush strokes realistic and so, so impactful. He painted Barb's lifeless eyes, her face pale, staring up at the moon, covered in water from his pool, the water shimmering over her waxy skin; a plate shattered on the ground, dripping with blood, covered in shadow, as if the one who broke the plate was standing right over him, his fist bared; Max hovering over a grave, the dying sun making her figure burn red, her hands lifted in the air, like a puppet on strings, a grey ground below her; bats flying in a tornado of wind, tails lifting up a small figure who's chest and feet were bare, his hands failing around, unable to escape; teeth biting into flesh, the red, oozing blood coating the skin like it was becoming one with it; Eddie's bloodied hands weakly gripping his spear and shield, the red lighting from the Upside Down reflecting in his empty eyes, his lips parted in a scream that was silenced.

Steve covered his paintings with spare bedsheets, hiding them from the sun and the eyes of others. It was something about him that he didn't want to share, that he wasn't ready to show. He knew that everyone would be breathless if they saw them, too shocked to speak, too horrified to breath, too scared to understand. But for Steve, his paintings allowed him to breath once again, to finally be free of the fear he always felt, if only for another night, and he knew that he couldn't stop, at least not until the nightmares were gone.

But the end didn't seem to be in sight, so Steve continued to paint.

[flowercrowngods]

yearning hours (b-side) — in which being in love can feel like the greatest tragedy of all until you learn that you’re not alone (or: bravery, despite everything)

🤍 also on ao3

Steve comes to the quarry when he needs to think. He comes to the quarry when he needs to not think. When he needs to feel this rush of adrenaline that feels so much like monsters are real and the world has turned upside down. Except he isn’t going to die here, sitting on the cold ground, legs dangling over the abyss.

He’s not going to die, but life stops for a moment all the same. 

And Steve relearns how to breathe. How to think. How to not think. While the darkness below him swallows it all. The pale light of the moon is not enough to reach the ground hundreds of feet below, or to chase away the complete and total darkness that meets his eyes when he looks down there. 

It’s all-encompassing, this darkness, the vastness of it; Steve sometimes feels like he becomes part of it. Just for an hour or two. Just for the night. 

The cold air that hits his face makes him shiver for a second, and reminds him that he used to think the darkness at the bottom of the quarry had a life of its own. Hell, maybe it does. With what they’ve seen, what they’ve fought, who’s to say there’s nothing down there? Maybe that’s what draws him here so often. 

Does the living darkness know his secrets like the darkness in his room does? Does it listen to him, does it care? They’re stupid questions, Steve knows. But they carry a hopefulness he wants to preserve. Something that survived the Upside Down, that survives the nightmares and the flashbacks and the post-traumatic stress, as Hopper and Owens call it. 

There’s something primal about sitting on the edge of such vastness, so much so that it makes his heart beat faster, his breath come shallower, like he is just a second away from falling. Like he has to savour this; this second, this moment, this life, because beyond it, around it, below it, there is only darkness. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it all out until his lungs ache. The silence is absolute. He feels like the only person on the planet — but not in the bad, painful way that’s been hiding in the back of his mind for as long as he can remember. 

If he only breathes like this for a while longer, lets the feeling settle, lets the thoughts come and bring emotions with them, he knows that soon the tears will fall.

Tears, because he shouldn’t have to sit at the edge of the quarry in the dark of night just to be able to feel. Tears, because he forgot how to be a boy, how to be a person, about three years ago. Almost to the day. Tears, because they all did; but he’s Steve. He can’t let them see. Wouldn’t know how even if he wanted to. 

And tears, tonight, because just hours earlier, Eddie fell asleep while Steve made dinner. His arms were curled around the pillow Steve had leaned against all afternoon, and Steve just stood there in the doorway to Eddie’s room, the smell of fresh pasta mixing with that of leather, paperback books, tobacco and laundry detergent that is so purely and wonderfully Eddie that Steve just wants to catch it in a mason jar and open it whenever he needs a dose. 

Eddie had fallen asleep, and all Steve could do was look at him. Smile on his lips, ache in his heart that only grew in ferocity until all he could do was leave. Because friends don’t watch their friends sleep. Not like this. Not with their hands twitching by their sides, curled into fists to stop them from reaching out and trailing over soft, warm skin. Friends don’t… They don’t. 

So Steve left, pasta untouched. Heart unravelled. Words unspoken. 

He left and sped off until he reached the quarry, a safe place to piece himself back together again — but he doesn’t have the heart to leave out Eddie. So every time he comes here and puts the pieces of himself back together, he puts Eddie in the centre. He always does. It’s what keeps getting him in this mess. 

But it’s still the closest he’ll get to bravery after the Upside Down; admitting, if only to himself, that he likes a boy. Allowing himself to cry about it. To breathe in and breathe out and have the truth unchanged, unchallenged, undoubted.

He’s still breathing when the all-encompassing silence is interrupted, joined by the unmistakeable sound of tires on gravel. Seconds later, headlights illuminate the night, his arms, the edge of the quarry, but still not reaching beyond that. The car comes to a stop but Steve still doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around, just hopes that whoever it is will just leave him alone. 

Lights go out, the engine is killed, followed by the sound of a car door opening and being closed far too gently. 

Steve isn’t too surprised when steps approach him slowly, nor when they come to a stop beside him, chasing away some of the cold that’s been resting over him like a blanket.

Instinctively, he knows it’s Eddie. He just doesn’t know why. 

“How’d you know I’m here?” he asks into the void, still unmoving. 

“Just knew,” comes the reply, and it sounds so soft, so gentle, so understanding that Steve fears he might fall apart and have to rebuild himself once more. Twice in one night. Wouldn’t be the first time. Won’t be the last. “Why’d you leave?” 

Because otherwise I’d have crossed the distance and fallen to my knees, brushed a kiss to your forehead and told you dinner was ready. Because otherwise I’d have slid down the doorframe and watched over you, watched you, and the firework of a person that you are even in your sleep. I’d have fallen in love and I’d have fallen, fallen, fallen. So I needed to go where falling is not an option. 

Instead of saying any of that, Steve only shrugs. “Just did.” 

It’s lame and unfair, he knows, but talking to the darkness is so much easier when there’s not an audience, and Eddie just… he can’t know. Any of that. 

“Can I join you?” Eddie asks then, and Steve can hear it in his voice that he would leave if Steve said no. 

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t; just nods and scoots to the side a bit even though there’s enough room for Eddie to sit just anywhere. 

But he doesn’t sit just anywhere, no. He sits down rather clumsily — for which Steve can’t blame him, it is a little scary in the dark, and one wrong move could be your very last — and ends up with his arm and shoulder pressed to Steve‘s, their legs so close he can feel Eddie‘s warmth through the denim.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. It’s dangerous, so close to falling, and Steve scoots to the side, breaking contact. Breathing carefully.

Eddie‘s eyes are on him, he can feel it. He doesn’t react. It hurts, his entire body aches with how close he wants to be. But it’s too much, even for himself to bear. Putting all that on Eddie would be enough to take them both down to the bottom of the quarry, and lower still.

So he swallows. All the words he cannot say, all the thoughts that lump together and clog his throat.

“Are you okay, Stevie?” Eddie asks, and Steve just shrugs again.

“Sure.”

“Right,” Eddie whispers, then sighs. It’s not a heavy sigh or a judgmental one, but it makes Steve flinch all the same.

Too much. Too fucking much even unknown.

Silence falls over them, the quarry working its magic — or its curse — even on Eddie Munson. Steve wonders if it suffocates or liberates him, but he doesn’t dare to ask. It would take too much explaining for the question to make sense, too much revealing himself, too much of… Just too much.

He wants to ask. To say something. To scoot back over again, closer to Eddie, and lay his head on his shoulder, bask in his warmth and withstand the magic, the curse, the darkness.

Withstand it, because that’s what Eddie does. He is brave, despite everything.

And Steve is just the boy who sits with darkness at night because he doesn’t know how to be brave anymore, not when there’s no question of life or death. He forgot all about everyday-bravery.

But Eddie didn’t. He’s still there, still smiling and laughing and teasing his way through life and into Steve’s heart and soul.

And Steve doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what he can do with it. Doesn’t know how to ask.

It’s no surprise, then, that it’s Eddie who does.

“What are we doing, Steve?” He sounds a bit resigned about it, and it makes Steve hide away in himself even more, focusing on the darkness beneath him rather than the light beside him — they both leave him blinded at equal measure, but one of them doesn’t ask him questions to which he doesn’t know the answer.

“What do you mean?” he asks after a while, his voice a little off. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Apprehension, maybe. Caught. Uncovered. Exposed.

Beside him, Eddie sighs again, just a little bit, but Steve has always hated that he keeps making people sigh. Makes him feel so fucking small, so incredibly useless.

He raises one leg from the abyss to rest his chin on his knee, because suddenly he feels so heavy that he needs the physical reminder that he’s not about to fall. One foot on the ground. Steady, secure, a great illusion for now.

“Sorry,” he whispers at last, because Eddie hasn’t said anything, has only sighed and created a silence that’s so loud it can probably be heard at the bottom of the quarry, and Steve feels like the silence is his fault this time.

“What for?”

“Dunno,” he confesses, lies, concedes as his house of cards begins to crumble for some reason. The heaviness wanders from his throat down to his heart and settles there, making a home for itself, casting out all the lightness that usually comes when he’s around Eddie.

But it seems he’s reached his breaking point. It seems he can only pretend to be okay for so long, pretend not to yearn and ache and long for intimacy and tenderness. It seems he can only put himself together again, rebuilding himself around Eddie at his centre, until it would break apart for good. Burst out of his heart, dismantle him piece by broken piece until all that’s left is a broken boy, yearning.

And so he can’t stop the tears even if he wanted to. They’re kind in their silence, streaming down his face without demand for sobs or sniffles. Just breaking free, a simple displacement reaction. Following the physics of emotions.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, reaching out to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. There’s that warmth, that touch, that gentleness he’s been craving — and there’s that sob he’s been suppressing. “Hey, Stevie, it’s okay. You’re okay. You can talk to me, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head into the warmth of Eddie’s neck, wiping dejectedly at his tears.

“No?”

“No,” he whines, sighs, groans, annoyed with himself.

“Don’t want to? Or can’t?”

Both. Neither. All at once.

He shrugs again, still leaning against Eddie.

Eddie, who turns his head slightly and brushes his lips over Steve’s hair in what can only be described as a kiss. Except, it can’t. It couldn’t. It isn’t.

Steve begins to shiver against him — maybe he’s cold, maybe he’s overwhelmed, maybe he’s both and neither and everything all at once.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

And then Eddie kisses his head again, and he stills.

“You can’t kiss me, Eddie,” he says, voice still thick, but steadier this time. No more sobbing, no more whining. Just a broken boy, yearning. Always, always that.

Eddie freezes where he’s holding Steve, only his arm still moves in soothing, rubbing motions — warming him, holding him, saving him. Always, always that.

“Sorry,” Eddie says this time. Except it’s wrong. It’s so wrong, and Steve leans back to look at him. It’s impossible to make out his expression in the darkness, but he tries nonetheless.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. “Just…” He gestures vaguely, not quite sure what the just entails. Just mean it. Just do it right. Just don’t do it out of pity. Just leave me alone until I’m over you even though we both know I never really will be.

“Just?”

Steve shrugs. Whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t hide, Stevie.” Be brave, Stevie. Be brave like me.

God, how he wishes. How he longs. How he aches.

“You don’t have to hide, not from me.”

Steve huffs and says, before he can stop himself, “Especially from you.”

Eddie pauses and Steve freaks out a little bit, even before Eddie asks, “Why?” He sounds wounded. Small. He shouldn’t sound like that. Never.

“Because you’re gonna see otherwise.”

“See what?”

That I’m completely and utterly in love with you. Besotted. Enamoured. All the big words you like to make fun of. All of them and more.

“Me.”

There’s a beat where nothing happens. Maybe time stops, maybe reality resets itself, settling in more comfortably in anticipation of vulnerability’s fallout.

And then Eddie takes his hands, reaching for them in the darkness and finding them with ease. Like he’s done it many times before. Because he has. Just never like this.

“Steve,” he begins, and Steve wants to run again. To hide, to confess to another void, and make Eddie forget this conversation ever happened. “I think I already do.”

What? No. No, you can’t.

When Steve doesn’t respond, Eddie continues, seemingly gathering himself and his thoughts as he goes. Always so much stronger, so much braver than Steve.

“I already do see you. The way you smile at me, light up the whole room with it. The way you hug me, always a little too long, but never long enough if you ask me. I see you blushing, I see you going out of your way for me, and… And I think, if you knew how to look, you’d see the same in me. Because, uh. Because I like seeing you. And I like… I like you. Not in a friends kinda way. In a way where I wanna sit beside you all night and talk about deep shit, but I wanna run my fingers through your hair when we do. I wanna play with your fingers when we do. I wanna kiss you when we do, because there’s deep, heavy, traumatic shit everywhere, but there’s also you. And I don’t want one without the other. I want you. In that exact way that I see you looking at me, wanting me, too.”

Eddie swallows, a little breathless beside him like Steve’s not choking on emotion himself.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Eddie whispers then, pressing and desperate and knowing. “Tell me you don’t like me in a way you think you shouldn’t. Tell me I don’t see you.”

He shakes his head, slowly, frantically. “I can’t.”

“Because it’s true?”

Steve’s nodding now, just as frantic, leaving him disoriented and falling, only anchored to Eddie who’s still holding his hands.

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, rasps, whispers. “It… I’m. I don’t.” It’s he who swallows heavily now, needing a second or an eternity to process Eddie’s words. “You really mean that?”

Eddie nods. He can feel it, somehow.

“I don’t know what has you so scared,” Eddie begins. “Except the obvious, of course, but I feel like that’s only a small chunk of it. But you gotta believe me when I say that I mean it. I like you. So much it makes me stupid sometimes.”

Steve huffs, but it’s a smile this time. A real one. Tinged with sadness and heaviness and disbelief still, but a real one nonetheless.

“I wanna tell you. All of that. Everything, in my own words. And I will, but… Eddie, I’m—“ Steve starts with a quivering voice but shuts himself up before he can ruin this.

I’m broken. I’m not sure if I can let you. I’m just Steve. I’m bullshit. I’m…

“I’m tired.”

It has a double meaning, here at the quarry — but he doesn’t mean it like that. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He won’t.

“Can you just hold me?” It is perhaps the closest to bravery he’s going to get. Tonight, or always. But it’s enough. It can be enough.

Eddie hums and Steve can hear the smile, can feel how some of the heaviness inside him dissipates with it.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Steve shivers again as he shifts, lying back so it’s only his legs, bent at the knee, that dangle over the abyss now. Eddie joins him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle and rearranging them so Steve rests half on top of him. It can’t be comfortable, but Steve doesn’t mention it.

They lie there in silence, and Steve allows himself to let go of the tension in his bones as he feels Eddie’s hands travelling across his back in a tender caress. He doesn’t quite believe it’s real, doesn’t believe he’ll get to keep it beyond this moment, and can’t quite savour it the way he wants to because surely he will lose this, too. Surely Eddie will realise and come to his senses and—

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, leaning up slightly to brush his lips over Steve’s temple. “Yeah, Stevie. I really, really mean it.” And then, after a while, “Will you come back home now?”

Back home. Home to Eddie and Wayne. Home, because Eddie cares and wants and bravely, bravely asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Another kiss to his forehead. “And will you stay?”

It is Steve now who leans up, hovering above Eddie to meet his eyes through the dark. “I will. I do.” And then he slowly, carefully captures Eddie’s lips with his own, sealing the promise and receiving one in return.

Kissing Eddie is a lot like falling, he realises. But there are arms wrapped around him, holding him, never wanting to let him go — so maybe it isn’t falling after all. Maybe it’s flying.

At home in his bed, Eddie holds him some more, running fingers through his hair long after Steve has fallen asleep.

They’ll make it work.

[afewproblems]

50. "I need you to forgive me."

You know why...

But please!!!

I know this took forever so I hope you will forgive me! (Also when I originally received this ask I had just posted part one and mentioned in the tags that prompt 50 could be a good 'fix-it' prompt for a follow up, and well, here we are! Also when I received it, I laughed for a solid minute, like evil laughed so thank you @happymediummm )

Part Three of Prompt 53. 'I'm flirting with you!'

Part One, Part Two

It's on Friday that the cavalry arrives.

Dustin bangs on Eddie's bedroom door, with a mace by the sounds of it.

He's about to snark that Dustin doesn't play a class that uses martial weapons when he hears the kid yell--

"Eddie! You have five seconds before I come in there and get you myself, I got your uncle's permission and everything!"

Eddie groans and detaches himself from the bed  flipping the pillow he had been wallowing in away from himself.

He stomps towards the door and flings it open, leveling an unimpressed glare at Dustin who barrels past him into the bedroom.

Dustin crosses to the desk, his head on a swivel as he looks around the small space, Eddie scoffs as he steps towards Dustin, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing Henderson?" Eddie spits out as Dustin shrugs his hand off, he seems to spy what he's looking for as he crows a single, 'Aha,' and makes his way to the dresser.

"Seriously, Dustin, what are you doing here?"

"Saving you from yourself dude," Dustin scoffs as he takes a tape out of his pants pocket, the familiar writing on the label makes Eddie's stomach fall into his feet.

It's Steve's tape.

"No, nope, absolutely not," Eddie snaps. 

He reaches for the cassette in Dustin's hand, only for the little shit to spin away from him and toss the tape from his right to his left hand in a move that seems so much like the teen's babysitter that Eddie wants to scream.

Dustin manages to pop the tape into the player and hit play before Eddie can get close again.

A few notes of a bass guitar reach Eddie's ear and his hands drop from Dustin's shoulders as he perks up…he knows this song.

"What the fuck Henderson?" He breathes out with wide eyes that flick back and forth between him and the cassette player.

'Oh yeah!

Some people say my love cannot be true

Please believe me, my love, and i'll show you

I will give you those things you thought unreal

The sun, the moon, the stars all bear my seal--'

"You are being an idiot," Dustin says matter of factly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he frowns at Eddie, "I don't exactly know what you said, but I think I got the gist out of Steve earlier today when Robin wasn't acting like a guard dog". 

His dark blue eyes scan Eddie as he shakes his head, "you thought it was a joke, do you know Steve?"

Eddie rolls his eyes before crossing to the cassette player and slapping the stop button. All at once the sounds of Black Sabbath halt, leaving the room in tense silence. 

"Look," Eddie snarls, "I've known people like Steve over the years, it's all the same bullshit--"

"Stop it!" Dustin snaps, he steps closer to Eddie and jabs a finger into his chest, "you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Dustin's cheeks are flushed with anger as he shakes his head again, "he's nothing like that Eddie, you're being an asshole!"

"What is all the yellin' about?" Wayne's voice trickles through the door, a hint of concern running through it as he leans against the frame, eyeing both Eddie and Dustin warily. 

"When I gave you permission to barge in here I don't remember agreeing to participate in a screamin' match son,” Wayne says, biting back a smile at the indignant expression on Dustin's face.

"Sorry Mr. Munson, but Eddie's being an idiot!" Dustin crosses his arms once more as he looks from Eddie to Wayne challengingly.

"That so?" Wayne laughs, "care to argue the charge," he directs at Eddie who rolls his eyes.

"It's nothing Wayne, Dustin is leaving now--" 

"Steve made that tape for you," Dustin yells, pointing at the cassette player, "and you threw it in his face!" 

"That true Ed?"

"It was a stupid joke," Eddie growls as Dustin throws his hands up in the air, "it doesn't mean anything". 

Wayne looks at Eddie for a long moment, his face unreadable.

"Steve Harrington?" He asks softly. 

Dustin nods nervously at Wayne before shooting another glare at Eddie.

"The one that came by your hospital room every day till you woke up Ed? The one they couldn't get to leave on the day you opened your eyes, that Steve Harrington?" 

"So?" Eddie huffs, wrapping his own arms around his chest tightly, incredibly aware of the two pairs of eyes trained on him.

 "Wayne, you told me I had to be careful of who I opened myself up to, I'm just following your advice!" 

Wayne sighs, lifting his hand to pinch into his eyes.

"You'd be lucky to have a friend like Steve," Dustin grumbles as he moves to the bed to sit down. He pulls up his legs up to his chest and glares at the back of Eddie's head.

"Kid, I think Ed and I need to have a conversation, alone," Wayne says quietly to Dustin.

Eddie watches in fascination as Dustin opens his mouth to argue, but after whatever silent conversation takes place between the teen and his uncle, Dustin merely huffs and slips off the bed. 

"Listen to the damn tape and get your head out of your ass," Dustin bites out as he passes Eddie, he levels one last impressive glare at the metal-head before leaving the room.

Wayne sighs as he makes his way over to the bed to sit, taking over Dustin's vacated spot.

"So, Harrington, huh?"

Eddie scowls and says nothing, leaning against the dresser. He winces as the sudden weight of his shoulder jostles everything, causing his loose D&D dice to fall off the edge and plink and plunk across the floor of his room.

The D4 will be a bitch to accidentally find with his feet later on, but Eddie ignores the mess and continues brooding against the dresser.

Wayne scratches his face, tapping an unsteady rhythm against his jean clad knee with his other hand, "okay," Wayne says gruffly from the bed as he shifts to stand. 

"I don't know what ya did or said, but it was enough to make that kid beg his way in here," Wayne huffs, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the open door. 

Eddie shrugs, refusing to lift his gaze from the floor. He hears Wayne sigh and the shift of fabric as he steps closer. 

"You were so small," Wayne mutters suddenly. 

Eddie looks up in confusion, but Wayne isn't looking at him, his eyes are trained just over Eddie's shoulder.

"When you came home that day, all black and blue," he shrugs and scratches his face again, "I didn't know how to help ya, and you wouldn't explain". 

Eddie swallows roughly, horrified at the sudden brightness of his uncle's eyes. A man he has only seen cry twice since he's known him, the first time was at Eddie's mothers funeral, the other was the day Eddie woke up at the hospital all those months ago. 

"I don't think I could stand it if anything happened to you Ed," Wayne breathes out wetly now as he roughly scrubs at his face, "and you being in the hospital, you were suddenly that small kid again, standing on my porch all black and blue". 

Eddie feels his own eyes sting as his uncle turns slightly to wipe his face again, "What are you saying?"

"You weren't alone this time, Ed," Wayne says softly as he steps towards his nephew and grasps him gently by the shoulders, "you have so many more people looking out for you, hell --one of em' carried you home". 

"I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see".

It's Eddie's turn to swipe at his misty eyes, "What's that?" He asks with an unconvincing cough to hide the wobble in his voice.

Wayne smiles, giving Eddie's shoulders a soft squeeze, "a damn good kid with a big heart, who I hope knows how to apologize when it's needed".

"But what if you're wrong?"

"Then I'm wrong, and we'll get through it," Wayne tugs Eddie towards him without warning into a tight hug and reaches behind Eddie to press play on the cassette player; the sound of guitar and drums begin again as Ozzy's voice fills the room. 

'Your love for me has just got to be real

Before you know the way I'm going to feel--'

"But for the record kid, I don't think I am".

***

Eddie listens to the tape. 

He listens to it again and again, both sides. Steve filled both sides with music for him…

He lays on his bed while it plays, staring a hole into the ceiling as the last few piano notes ring out before the tape stops, filling the room with silence.

The songs don't all go with one another and out of a dozen there's about eight he knows. The other four seem to be a mixture of songs he's heard Steve play in the beemer with the kids, or while dancing in his kitchen with Robin.

it's not an expert mix by any means, but Steve did manage to collect a decent amount of metal songs just for Eddie and even a one he's never heard before --since when did Scorpions write love songs? 

After hours alone in his room, sitting on his bed, listening to Steve's tape over and over again, there is one thing he can't deny.

Steve Harrington has feelings for him…had feelings for him, and Eddie ruined it. 

He wants to take the version of himself that pushed Steve away and shake him. 

Eddie winces as he pictures the devastated expression on Steve's face when he left. His normally bright hazel eyes and wide goofy grin were left pinched with hurt.

Eddie had done that, taken six months of tentative friendship, of lingering glances and soft teasing smiles -how had he missed those, and tossed this delicate thing away from himself like it was nothing. 

He looks over at the glowing green hands of the clock by his bed. It’s nearly midnight; Dustin left a few hours ago now and Wayne is now at work. 

Eddie breathes out a sigh through his nose as a sudden wave of determination flows through him.

He looks towards the far wall by the door, his Sweetheart hanging up on her hooks. 

Dustin had apparently insisted on grabbing it, doubling back on a severely sprained ankle while Nancy tore a verbal strip off his back for wasting time as an unconscious Eddie slowly continued to bleed out in Steve's arms.

Eddie shivers, it had been so strange to consider everything that happened, or what he was told happened during the gap in his memory. 

Steve had been the one to carry him out while Robin and Nancy helped compress the worst of his wounds with torn fabric and left over gauze from the patch job they had done for Steve.

He vaguely remembers a string of words, a whispered sentence that made no sense as Eddie drifted in and out of consciousness but now…

'You can't do this, come on Munson, open those stupid beautiful eyes of yours, who's going to yell at us about the corruption of youth in America huh? We need you man, I-I….'

Eddie had really been so fucking clueless. 

He gets up from the bed and crosses to the wall, taking the guitar off the hooks. 

At least now, he has a plan.

***

It was a shit plan.

Cutting down the road the kids had taken to calling Mirkwood and through the woods by Loch Nora seemed pretty sound in theory, giving Eddie the element of surprise and hiding him from any watchful neighborhood eyes. 

What he had not taken into account, however, was the pitch darkness, the unfamiliar maze of trees he now found himself in, and how fucking heavy his portable amp was going to be.

Perfect.

Eddie stumbles over a fallen log, nearly careening into the mulch and rotting leaves of the forest floor. The half moon above him, not nearly enough to light his path through the thicket.

At least this version of the woods feels alive, Eddie thinks to himself; the smell of damp dirt and the sound of frogs and crickets singing in the darkness is infinitely more appealing than the strange forest they had found themselves in a mere six months prior. And with the gates finally sealed, the most dangerous thing he could come across would probably be a rattler or a coyote. 

Eddie peers around at the thought, he's not quite sure he's entirely comfortable even running into those animals anytime soon…especially the snake.

Finally, after another ten minutes of walking, warm yellow light begins to sift through the trees ahead of him as he brushes away low branches from his field of vision. 

Eddie hikes up the guitar strap higher up his shoulder and steps fully into the light that illuminates the Harrington backyard lawn and pool.

Eddie scans the back of the house, flipping the mental map of the Harrington home around to visualize which window was most likely to be for Steve's bedroom.

He steps further into the yard, setting down the heavy amp onto the concrete patio before leaning down to grab a handful of wood chips from the shrubs next to the house.

Here goes nothing.

Eddie tosses one of the pieces of wood at the window above him. 

It barely connects with the windowsill before dropping back down onto the patio with a muted clack. 

Oh this is humiliating.

He tries again and again to hit Steve's window with the wood chips in his hand, each one completely misses the target. One bounces into the eavestrough, another careens off the siding and back into the pool behind Eddie. 

"Fuck this," Eddie growls, throwing the rest of the wood chips back into the shrubs as he snatches the cord for his amp and shoves the plug into the nearest outdoor outlet. 

He turns the volume down slightly, the plan won't work if the cops get called on him immediately. 

Eddie takes the guitar off his back and plucks a few notes, adjusting one of the tuning keys until the sound is just right.

"Here goes nothing, come on Stevie," Eddie whispers as he begins to play. 

"I hear the ticking' of the clock, I'm lying here the room's pitch dark," he sings softly, strumming out the cords, it's slightly harsher than the piano but sue him, Eddie only managed to play it once through by ear at home before he left the house.

This was Steve's last track on the tape, and Eddie's sure he put it there for a reason.

He listened to the song again and again, slowly picking up the cords as he did so. 

He could do this, he picked up Master of Puppets in just a few weeks, Eddie could handle Heart.

Eddie keeps going, his voice carries over the yard, growing in volume; so much so that he misses the patio door slowly slide open and the sound of a pair of feet padding onto the patio. 

"What are you doing here?" Steve's voice calls out to Eddie from the door, he jumps, nearly dropping the guitar. His hand jolts on the strings as Eddie attempts to keep his hold on the instrument, letting the guitar scream for him.

Steve stares at him as Eddie unplugs the amp cord and swings the guitar around his back once more with shaking hands, his thoughts spinning, trying to figure out how to start.

"I listened to the tape," Eddie says softly, Steve cocks his head slightly to better hear him, his face shuttering as the words register.  

Eddie's heart races as he watches Steve begin to turn towards the patio door once more, he needs to act fast.

"And I need you to forgive me," he blurts out, louder than he intends, but Steve does pause with his hands on the door handle.

"Why's that?" He says sharply, dropping his hand away from the door, turning to fully face Eddie once more.

Eddie chews his lip nervously as Steve's gaze hardens the longer they stand in silence, his arms come up to wrap around his chest tightly.

"I thought you were playing a prank," Eddie sighs, saying it aloud makes him want to deflate, to walk right into the pool and sink to the bottom. 

If the look Steve gives him is any indication, Steve would be more than happy to watch him go.

"That's a lot of effort to put into a fucking prank Munson," Steve bites out, there is no heat to the words though. He just sounds tired, resigned.

Shit.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Eddie mumbles, he reaches up to scrub his hand over his face, missing the way Steve's face softens ever so slightly and his arms drop from the way they seem to be holding him together. 

"But I'm not going to make excuses," Eddie takes a step closer to Steve, his heart threatening to break through his ribcage the closer he gets, "I'm sorry for how I reacted and for thinking you could do something like that".

"I know you aren't like that, you're honest, and kind," Eddie reaches out and takes the tape from his back pocket and gestures towards Steve with it, "and so fucking thoughtful it makes me ache to think I ruined everything". 

He puts the tape back in his pocket, Steve’s eyes watch him curiously now as he does, it fills him with wary hope, enough to keep talking. 

"So, I need you to forgive me Steve, because I hope you'll let me make it up to you sweetheart".

Steve's face tips down suddenly towards his socked feet and the cold concrete patio, making it impossible for Eddie to make out his expression. He holds his breath as the silence stretches between them.

"Robin was right, you can be such an asshole," Steve says quietly, Eddie's chest tightens painfully at the words.

Eddie nods once,doing everything in his power to keep his face neutral but the downward curl of his lip is unstoppable as he reaches down to pick up the amp.

"But," Steve says, taking a step away from the door behind him, "as someone who was an asshole for a long time," Steve says quietly, pressing the palm of his hand into his chest, "I think it would be pretty hypocritical to not let you make it up to me".

He's grinning now. It’s small, barely stretching across Steve's freckled face, but it's warm and just for Eddie. 

"What did you have in mind, Sweetheart?" 

Steve is quiet for a moment, his eyes dart over Eddie's face before he finally whispers, "can you finish the song Eds?" 

"I think that can be arranged, " Eddie hums with a bright grin of his own. 

He swings the guitar off his back again, quickly plugging it into the amp. 

Eddie looks up to find Steve smiling softly at him as he takes a seat on one of the pool loungers. He pulls his legs up to rest his arms on his knees, basking in his own private concert. 

As the first pink and orange rays of sunrise begin to bloom on the horizon behind him, slowly painting Steve's face gold, Eddie can't help the relief that flows through him. 

He looks down at the shy grin Steve gives him, his hazel eyes bright in the new day's light, and thinks, 'holy shit, I almost missed this'.

"You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight," he picks up where he left off, his voice mixing with the slow rhythm of the guitar, “you don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight--”

Eddie watches, surprised as Steve swiftly gets up from the lounger and walks towards him, his expression determined.

"I think that's my line," Steve whispers as he leans in to cup Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him.

Eddie short-circuits.

The kiss is chaste, short, not much more than the brief press of warm chapped lips against Eddie's own, but the way Steve lets his hands move from Eddie's face to his hair and neck, holding him in place. The way Steve steps into Eddie's space so all he can taste, smell, and feel is Steve.

It’s exhilarating.  

Steve pulls back slightly before placing a second kiss on Eddie's lips, his eyes half lidded and a deep red flush staines his cheeks and ears a bright red. Steve looks much more debauched than necessary and Eddie suddenly wishes they weren't outside, that he could take Steve into the house and show him exactly how sorry he is. 

"I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait, did you learn all of them or just that one?" Steve asks, his voice slightly breathy, he still hasn't let go of Eddie or stepped away.

"Just that one," Eddie repeats dumbly, feeling the urge to walk into the pool again as Steve laughs.

Oh Eddie loves that laugh.

“You sure,” Steve asks again, his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles widely, “I thought maybe you could show me some of the other songs you know, inside?”

Either he’s dreaming or Steve is a mind reader because holy shit.

Eddie nods, unable to even form the words as Steve reaches for the amp and gently takes it out of his hands. Steve transfers the amp to his right hand and takes Eddie’s now empty hand with his left as he leads him towards the patio door.

Eddie watches, transfixed, as Steve looks back to shoot him another warm smile as they step over the threshold of the back door, and the words his uncle said earlier in the evening come back to him as Steve leads him towards the living room. 

‘I think a person like that deserves at least a chance to know you, and to see what I see’.

Eddie halts his movement, grabbing Steve’s hand firmly in his own, pulling him backwards until Steve turns, his eyebrows furrowed in wary confusion.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance,” Eddie says softly. He lets the hand holding Steve's own move to trail up and down his arm, eliciting a shiver from Steve. 

“I mean, you gave me one, you came back right?” Steve says softly. 

Eddie's heart twists at the words, he feels his face fall slightly at the thought that Steve could ever think he was somehow at fault for this, “I was an idiot, that wasn’t your fault at all sweetheart”.

Steve looks at him again, his eyes scanning Eddie’s own for what feels like ages, his expression unreadable. 

“Co’mere,” he murmurs eventually, letting go of Eddie to sit on the couch. He pats the cushion beside him, with the same soft smile from earlier, “play some music for me”.

There’s more to unpack here, more to talk about, other apologies to whisper in this beautiful man's ear. 

But for now, he swings his guitar in front of him and slowly walks over to Steve.

Steve asked for music, and who is Eddie not to oblige?

@ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality @estrellami-1 @rlpersephone3259 @zaphodkilledthespeedforce @newtstabber @grtwdsmwhr @uwujinniee @anica-d @imzadidragonfly @orangeandthefairroadkill @starman-jpg @nabatute @goodolefashionedloverboi @wheatnoodle @novacorpsrecruit @lolawonsstuff @redlegumes @paintsplatteredandimperfect @scheodingers-muppet @thephantomhood @0o-queendean-o0 @blackholegladiator @nerdfighteratheart @hallucinatedjosten

(I hope I haven't forgotten anyone, thank you very much for following along with this little story everyone!)

[magniloquent-raven]

The first person to tell Billy Hargrove they loved him after his mom left was Julie Wright, a girl in his English class who'd tapped her pencil against her chin and batted her spidery eyelashes all through his presentation on The Great Gatsby.

Her lipgloss was a sticky smear clinging to his upper lip when he was pushed between her legs, locked in place by bony thighs, her ankle digging into his back. She sighed and gasped and murmured all kinds of sweet things and he glowed at the praise. The adoration. For thirty minutes he was loved, he was wanted.

She thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and never spoke to him again.

It was a relief and a disappointment all at once.

But that was just how these things worked. How it worked for years. Not every girl was nice about it, so generous with her words, but sometimes just their attention was enough. It had to be enough.

The third person to tell Billy Hargrove they loved him after his mom left was Davy Garcia, an older boy he'd met at a party in some warehouse by the pier.

They didn't talk much, but maybe Davy liked that. He liked to keep Billy's mouth stuffed full, liked him drooling and struggling to breathe. Loved it, in fact. Loved Billy. The way he looked on his knees. How spirited he got.

None of that stopped him from running when Neil caught them.

The first person to love Billy Hargrove was Steve Harrington.

Billy didn't know. He didn't know for a long time. They were friends. And Billy was used to settling when he actually wanted something.

Sometimes they got high and Billy would let Steve kiss him for hours. Sometimes they were sober and they'd fall into bed tangled together, with wandering hands and shallow breaths. Sometimes Steve would tell Billy sweet things while he touched him.

But they were friends. And people say things in the heat of the moment that they don't really mean.

Except one day Steve comes up behind Billy while he's making coffee, wraps his arms around Billy's waist, buries his face in tangled curls, and says,

"I love you."

And Billy drops his mug.

It was empty, thankfully, and he only chipped it, but the noise still startles him, and Steve startled him, and there's a weird ringing in his ears and his fingers are kind of numb, and—

He might be panicking a bit. A lot.

He's not...doing anything, is the thing. The coffee wasn't even for Steve. He's just standing in Steve's kitchen, using up his fancy dark roast shit, wearing one of his old gym shirts—a clean one even though Billy hasn't showered yet—and chipping his goddamn mugs, shit—

Steve might've said it before. Once or twice. But never...like this. Never out of the blue, for no goddamn reason.

"Billy?"

"Mmng."

"You okay?"

Billy tentatively touches the back of Steve's hand, biting back a slightly hysterical noise when Steve slips their fingers together and kisses his shoulder. "Did you..." he exhales slowly. "Did you mean that?"

"...What?"

"The thing you said."

"I—yeah, Billy, I meant it."

"...Huh."

~~tag list ppls @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle @prettyboy-like-you

[hellfire-club-president]

POV: Eddie Munson’s camera roll

[st4tve-harrington]

I’m the biggest supporter of genderqueer pronoun user she/they/he stevie harrington and her stupidly queer transmasc neo user boyfriend Eddie Munson. Fight me I dare you (I bite back)

[becomingfoxes]

Oh, I don't wanna be alone

I wanna find a home

And I wanna share it with you

[eddieintheupsidedown]

Eddie: what is your biggest fear?

Steve: er... you dying. I'm not really scared of anything else to be honest

Eddie: what about you dying?

Steve: that's literally my biggest dream

[infinite-orangepeel]

okay yes spot the difference but also PLS SPARE HIM HES BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH

[edvinssmedvin]

Choking Part 1

Hurt/comfort with couple steddie. When Steve can’t express how he feels, he accidentally pushes Eddie away.

CW: Choking, Mental illness, forcing oneself to talk while nonverbal, numbness. More challenging themes like self harm, suicide and intrusive thoughts are brought up later. Read at your own risk and be safe.

He doesn’t want to go.

He wished he could explain why.

The other day, Steve had agreed to go to Indy with Eddie and the party to see some metal band next week. But when he had gotten up the day before the trip, he felt off.

It wasn’t something new, he’d have days where he’d feel just absolutely numb.

Those days bleed into the next, he often hid away, unshed tears burning his eyes. Yet he felt so numb he couldn’t even get them to fall.

Those days, he hid. But the thing was, just because those days weren’t new for him, doesn’t mean it wasn’t new for Eddie.

He’d finally gotten comfy, pulling the blankets over his head and just leaving enough room for his head to peek through.

He was so close to sleep, so close to sleeping the numbness off until it eventually floated away.

But then he heard Eddie walk into his apartment-

“Honey! I’m home!” He jokingly called out.

Steve could hear his chunky boots pad down the hallway, clicking in chorus with the chains on his boyfriend's belt.

Steve sighed, he loved Eddie (still too afraid to admit that to him) but he was so tired. He wouldn’t be able to socialize tomorrow and definitely wouldn’t be able to today. He could talk but it was a struggle to have to force his voice to come out. It felt like he was choking, strangling him. An uncomfortable feeling in general and ever since his encounter with Vecna, it only brought back painful memories.

He called out, feeling sick. “In here Eddie!” It was like he could feel his vocal cords vibrating against his skin, grating and choking him.

Steve watched as Eddie swung open the room door, rushing to take off his shoes and jumping on the bed. Snuggling into him, taking the role of a big spoon. Steve let out a breath of air and Eddie’s arms wrapped around him immediately grounding him.

Eddie noticed this, of course, he did. Ever the intuitive, “What’s wrong princess?”

“Uhm” he struggled, trying to push the words out. Choking him. “I just don’t feel like going tomorrow.” He turned his head around, to see Eddie’s reaction.

“Why not?” Eddie frowned, eyebrows creasing. Steve could make out the faint remembrance of eyeliner dotting across his eyelids, pretty.

Choking him. Choking him. Choking him.

“I’m just tired, Eds”

He watched as Confusion flashed across the metalhead's features, his frown turning into one face of questioning. “It’s only like 9, you have time to sleep in” Eddie kissed him on the nose.

He took a deep breath in his nose, letting it out through his mouth. ‘Your not gonna choke’ he repeated in his mind

“I don’t wanna go Eddie.” He brushes Eddie off of him, scooting over, away from his boyfriend.

Hurt flickered throughout Eddie’s eyes and honestly, Steve wished he had the energy to care, but he just doesn’t.

Next part—>

[tired-bisexual-brainrot]

so i think most of us are aware of the whole “steve’s dad is an asshole” thing and how a lot of the time in like fanfics it talks abt how steve never cries because “real, manly men don’t cry” and thats what his father has always drilled into him.

but i’d like to offer you this:

steve *sees a stray cat on a walk*: oh god, eddie look *starts tearing up* that poor thing eds we have to take it to a vet or something look how skinny it is

eddie: steve it could have like a disease or something we can’t touch it, the most we can do is call animal control or the shelter or something maybe they can help

steve: *turns into a blubbering mess* bu-but i want to save it :( it could get hurt or-or die eds please

eddie: i’m sorry sweetheart come here *steve sobs in his arms*

*at some point in time when eddie asks where a scar on his face came from*

steve: oh yk, evil russians aren’t very nice when it comes torturing and questioning.

steve: actually, i’m pretty sure they cracked like 3 of my ribs too but honestly you’d have to ask robin. i’ve had like 3??… or was it 4??? concussions so like i have SHIT memory man haha

eddie: *is horrified* steve… what the actual fuck have you been through before we met

steve: *recounts all of his past trauma with out batting an eye or shedding a single tear*

eddie: *horror intensifies* D:

steve: i’m like fine tho now, it’s over so yk whatever. wanna go get ice cream :D

[bipunkharrington]

Steve and Eddie deserve to be together actually because they are both the type to absolutely refuse to look after themselves but also both the type to be thoroughly obnoxious about making sure their partner looks after themselves

[hellfire-club-president]

POV: Scrolling through Nancy Wheeler’s camera roll

[200yearoldautisticman]

joel miller 🤝 steve harrington

me needing them to have

a mental breakdown