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#steve spirals
hairmetal666 · 1 year
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Steve
Asking Eddie to move to Indy with him and Robin is the most natural thing in the world. After Vecna they became SteveandRobinandEddie, so it just made sense to live together.
Everything is perfect.
It changes one night, at their favorite gay bar. He and Eddie nurse a couple of beers at a hightop, while Robin dances with a cute blonde. Steve half-heartedly shimmies along to the Madonna song pumping through the speakers. Eddie watches him vamp to Material Girl with a look in his dark eyes that Steve can't quite read. It's not the usual fondness he's used to from his friend; too dark and too serious. It makes him nervous.
Eddie drains his drink, mouths the word "bathroom," at Steve, then disappears in the crowd.
Steve sips his own beer, letting his attention drift until he finds Robin, still dancing with the blonde, looking like she's having the time of her life. He expects Eddie back at any time, only--ten, fifteen minutes pass with no sign of him.
His eyes start scanning the crowd in earnest, desperately seeking familiar leather and denim and long dark hair. Anxiety builds in his chest, a dull sizzle beneath his skin.
He finally spots a set of leather-clad broad shoulders towards the back of the room. Eddie has one hand braced against the brick wall, pressed up nice and close to someone Steve can't quite make out.
There's bile in Steve's throat, nausea clenching at his stomach. He shouldn't look; he can't tear his eyes away.
The person is revealed in a flash of light from the dance floor. He has an All-American jaw, swoopy dark blond hair, and is wearing a grass green sweater. The closest thing to Indiana golden boy in the place, second only to Steve.
Room suddenly spinning, Steve struggles to catch his breath, but gives up entirely as Eddie closes the remaining distance between himself and the mystery man, sealing their lips in a searing kiss.
Steve watches, feels himself breaking apart piece by piece. He thought--he thought they were something. Becoming something. All their late night talks and casual touches. He'd been working up the courage to make a move for weeks, and now--
Maybe it's a mistake. Maybe Eddie breaks the embrace and gives an embarrassed chuckle before he comes back to Steve, only he doesn't. The kiss ends, sure, but then Eddie is taking the guy's hand, leading him down the hall towards the bathrooms.
Hands clutched in his hair, Steve sinks into a crouch. He pants, huffing like he just ran sprints, can't catch his breath. Tears dance at his lash line, threatening to fall. He can't have a panic attack now, here. Doesn't want Robin to see; doesn't want Eddie--
It's all too small, too tight, too loud, and Steve shoves his way outside. He rounds the building before sinking to the ground, hands shaking.
He waits outside until Robin and Eddie emerge from the club, both flushed and sweaty. He doesn't speak to either of them and they spend the drive in silence.
When they get home, he goes straight to his bedroom.
"Ste--" Robin calls, but he lets the door shut behind him. He doesn't think it slams.
Eddie
Steve hasn't spoken to him in weeks. Not since that night at the bar. When Eddie hooked up with a guy and he's pretty sure Steve knows; pretty sure it's why they're no longer on speaking terms. Eddie keeps meaning to confront him. He really does. It's just--it'll change everything, and his life was finally going okay for once.
He reaches his limit when he joins Steve in the kitchen before work, and the guy literally, visibly flinches away from him. It hits Eddie like being punched in the dick.
"What the fuck, Harrington." Eddie's voice is too loud in the small space.
"S-sorry, I'll just get out of your way." Steve's eyes don't stray from his own hands.
"I hook up with one guy and now can't even bear to touch me?"
"What? Eds that's not--"
"Don't lie to my fucking face."
"I wouldn't. Eddie, please--"
"I can't believe that this is the last vestige of King Steve. Can say you're cool with me, but when you see me do gay shit, you can't hang? Fuck you. I'm done. I'll be gone by the weekend." His voice stays remarkably steady, even though he's pretty sure not even the bat bites hurt this much.
"Christ, Munson, I'm not freaked out cause I saw you do 'gay shit.' I don't care." Steve's looking at him now; his little mouth held tight and mad.
"Like hell you don't. You haven't spoken to me since it happened."
"Not because I'm homophobic, asshole."
That makes Eddie laugh, shrill and mean. "Oh yeah? Then why."
"It doesn't matter." Steve yanks his hand through his hair.
"It does to me."
"Just drop it. You don't have to move out. I don't care who you fuck."
"You can barely stand to look at me!" Eddie shouts; doesn't mean to. "What if I bring someone home, huh? How are you gonna cope with that, knowing I'm fucking a guy in the next room?"
"It should have been me," Steve screams.
Neither of them move in the ringing silence that follows. Eddie's throat is tight.
"Wh-what?" He manages.
"Forget it." Steve turns to go. "Just--forget I said anything."
"Steve." Eddie follows him into their living room. His heart's beating all funny. "What do you mean?"
"It's nothing," Steve's face is leached of color; his eyes too bright.
"Please? I want to understand."
Steve laughs a little, looks absolutely miserable. "I saw you. With the guy. And he...he looked like me, right? And I don't understand why I'm not good enough."
Eddie swallows hard. "You don't--you're not--I didn't think you were a choice. For me."
Steve's chin drops, anywhere but on Eddie. "Yeah. Well. Surprise." He doe a pathetic flourish with his hands that clenches at Eddie's heart.
"Ah," is all Eddie can manage. The world is shifting under his feet, tectonic plates realigning as he processes Steve's words.
"It's--it's fine that you don't feel the same way. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you have to like me, and I--I was trying to get over it. I didn't want to--"
Eddie can't stand to listen to another word. He crosses the distance to Steve. "Shh, sweetheart. It's--just. Stop okay?"
Steve is looking up at him now, doe eyes wide.
He laughs, genuine this time. "Stevie. I've had a crush on you for years. Years. I used to make the guys go with me to Starcourt. I told them it was because I liked seeing King Steve laid low. Really I just liked how you looked in those little shorts." Steve giggles, face blushing such a pretty pink Eddie almost forgets what he's saying.
"It only got worse when I met the kids, with how much they talked about you. And then I met you for real? Pssh," Eddie waves his hand in the air. "Gone. No hope for Eddie Munson when you're--you're so pretty and bitchy and brave and hot, Steve, and I'm the weakest man in Indiana.
"That night. That guy. It was--I'd just overheard you and Robin talking about a cute girl, and I realized that I had to stop doing that to myself, pining over a straight guy who could never see me like I wanted. I decided that I'd try to pick someone up, force myself to see you just as a best friend."
Steve's face falls impassive. "Did it work?" He almost whispers.
"Not even close, baby," Eddie whispers back. "I'm hopeless for you."
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glorious-spoon · 4 months
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i respect the school coach/counselor steve movement, but in my heart of hearts i know that steve is going to grow up and become a hairstylist. he'd love it. the bitchy gossip, the human drama, the satisfaction of making someone feel comfortable and look how they want to look
maybe he follows robin to the big city for college. tries a couple of classes, drops out, goes to cosmetology school
(does NOT tell the kids until after he's finished. they still tease him within an inch of his life, but like - whatever. he fought interdimensional monsters on like five different occasions before he was old enough to legally drink, he can handle dustin hassling him for knowing what a strand test is)
(eddie is not around to hear about this. he lit out of town as soon as he finished summer school, diploma in hand. steve can't blame him. hawkins was never a good place for eddie munson, and even after the murder charges were cleared, it got worse)
(he still misses the guy, though. they ended up hanging out a lot that summer, and it sort of felt like the start of... something, but it'll take years for steve to work out exactly what)
anyway, eventually he uses some of his government hush money to set up a salon. he settles into his life as a regular person, and it's nice, it's good, it really is. eventually he gets around to figuring out why eddie's over the top flirting always made him feel clumsy and thrilled, and that's another part of himself that he settles into. finds some more family. some more community
he still keeps in touch with the hawkins crew, of course. robin lives nearby, and dustin calls all the time. nancy, too, when she can. she's overseas now reporting in war zones. it was never gonna work out between them
he hasn't seen eddie munson in almost ten years on a brisk day in february when the door to the salon swings open to admit a swirl of snow and a lanky figure wrapped leather, and steve drops the clipper he's holding and thinks, shit, what happened now and then, absurdly on the heels of that, he's going to freeze dressed like that
and then he's crossing the salon to yank eddie into a hug and getting hugged back just as hard, and ten years feels like nothing all of a sudden, and maybe he wasn't too late, maybe neither of them were, maybe they were right on time.
(eddie drifted out of touch with almost all of them other than dustin, who was tenacious, brilliant, and just unprincipled enough to track him down every time he moved
he told eddie to look up steve when he moved to the city, and eddie did, then dithered outside the door for twenty minutes freezing his ass off before he could make himself go in)
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sp0o0kylights · 3 months
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Part One
Hellfire did in fact, have cookies to sell.
More than cookies, which Dustin practically preened over when Eddie dragged himself back to their table. 
The ornaments they had made were still there, but now the centerpiece was an array of baked goods. Spread out in a spiral, it started from the large cake in the center and spun out into miniature cookies held in tiny decorated bags, all while Harrington stood over them like a proud parent. 
It smelled mockingly delicious. 
Eddie glared at the display, resisting the urge to upend the whole thing onto the floor.
Cookies and cakes and (--was that frickin bread pudding?) whatever other treats Harrington had shown up with might look good, but Eddie didn’t trust it. 
Didn’t trust Harrington, even if the bastard had never really done anything himself--but then, he never had to, had he? 
That was the point of all that money, after all. So he could pay other people to do his dirty work while he kept his hands squeaky clean. 
“Inch a bit to the left--there, stop!” Harrington was saying, like the bossy asshole he was.
Like he thought he could just come in and expect everyone to follow his lead. 
“Perfect! Now don’t touch it.” 
God, Eddie had to nip this in the butt, now. Before King Horrorton harassed his sheep all day, and cemented the club's undeserved bad name in the minds of Hawkins.
“Dustin what did I just say--” 
Eddie stepped up to the front of their table, preparing himself for war. Looked over to his friends knowing they'd likely need a nod of reassurance. A show from him that said he had this handled.
There was no cowering. 
No pleading, helpless, 'What do we do Eddie!?' gazes aimed his direction.
Hellfire wasn’t even looking at him, and not because they were all avoiding Harrington's line of sight.
No, the fucking traiters were flanking the King. Like they were buddies with the bastard instead of mortal enemies. 
“Hey, Ed’s, Harrington brought pies. Cakes too!” Gareth said around a mouthful of said cookie when he noticed Eddie standing before him. 
It came out a garbled mess, but years of experience had Eddie understanding him anyway. 
Jeff was busy playing what sounded like twenty fucking questions regarding the setup, and even Grant appeared comfortable, happily letting Harrington order him around as they finished setting up. 
Like this was some kind of cutesy Disney movie where they all held hands and sang songs instead of a hostile takeover situation. 
Eddie’s eye twitched.
Sensing a disturbance in the force, Jeff looked up and immediately interrupted himself to point to a series of red and green cookies placed dead center, delighted. 
“Check it out man, Steve made some shaped like dice!” 
(And he did say ‘Steve.’ 
Not Harrington, or This Asshole, or The Invading Evil Forces of Darkness.
Just Steve, like Steve was someone Jeff hung out with everyday.
Jeff’s cleric was a dead elf walking.) 
Eddie took note of what was in fact, dice cookies. 
He hated how good they looked.
“There’s four flavors.” Steve told him, cocky little grin on his face as he observed his work.  “Chocolate chip, peanut butter, snickerdoodle--and the dice ones are sugar cookies.” 
He licked his lips before finally turning to look at Eddie, hair curling over his face and making him wave a hand to brush them out of his eyes. 
Eddie hated how good he looked too. 
‘Hate, hate, hate, absolutely loathe-’ 
“Great, sure, wonderful.” Eddie managed, though given the look Grant and Jeff both shot him it might have come out as more of a growl. 
Dustin rolled his eyes, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice that Hellfire’s other two youngest hadn’t dared to show their faces yet. 
Likely they knew Eddie was having an absolute meltdown over Steve’s presence and were waiting for his reaction to blow over. 
(Their characters were dead too.) 
“I have two full cakes--one chocolate, on vanilla--and a few individual slices we can sell.” Steve was continuing, as if Eddie wasn’t glaring a hole in his forehead. “Those did really well last year when I made them for the basketball team.” 
Insults fought for space on Eddie’s tongue, but he managed to roll a 20 to pick the best one, opening his mouth to let it fly.
"Harr-" is as far as he got before he was rudely interrupted.
“Steve? Is that you?” A woman Eddie didn’t recognize but was clearly someone's mom came up cautiously to the table, side eyeing the Hellfire banner like a nervous horse. “That can’t be your famous tiramisu, is it?”
Steve beamed at her. “Well hi Miss Carpenter. It is!” 
Eddie was bumped aside by a massive purse, the woman not even glancing in his direction as she stepped up to the table. 
With a sneer, he finally slumped to the back of their little spot as Miss Carpenter looked over all Steve’s (not Hellfire’s and absolutely not Eddie’s) offerings. 
Didn’t care to wipe it off right then, even if he knew he needed to if he wanted to make sales. 
Jeff sent him a look.
The same one he usually aimed Eddie’s way when he thought Eddie’s antics were going to cause problems. 
He ignored it, on grounds that traitors don’t get to be judgy. 
“Oh,” Miss Caprtender tittered, the draw of Harrington’s baked goods clearly overcoming whatever fear she had about Hellfire. “Well I just can’t pass that up. The swim team meets aren’t the same without you!”
Eddie pretended to gag.  
Waited for her to comment on Hellfire--their clothes, their music, hell even the length of Eddie’s hair--and found he was almost disappointed when there wasn't even a single question about Hawkins precious golden child was slumming it with the weirdos. 
Instead, Miss Carpenter's hand went fishing in her purse for her wallet as she loudly called out over her shoulder, to presumably another annoying woman; 
“Terry, Steve’s here! He’s been baking!” 
For two terrifying seconds, there was a notable dip in the conversations around them. 
Grant’s eyes went wide as several women responded to the announcement like dogs hearing food hit the floor, and within seconds their table was absolutely swarmed by the mothers of Hawkins.
Even Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sheer number of them. 
“Hold, men, hold.” Dustin cautioned as Jeff and Grant both took a step back. “Come on, we need to get our gold!” 
“They’re scary though.” Gareth whispered in horror as four women tried to talk at once, jostling each other so hard they shook the table menacingly. 
“Ladies, ladies there’s enough here for everyone!” Steve laughed, showing off his disgustingly cute dimples as he did, getting several of the mom’s to blush at their own behavior in the process. 
The sheer amount of attention of course, drew in even more people, and Dustin quickly took up directing, planting Jeff and Grant at either end of their table while he and Steve fended off the hoard from the front. 
(Given the way he and Steve were equally ordering Hellfire around, Eddie finally knew where the little shit had picked that attitude up from. He was going to have to cure Dustin of it, ASAP.  ) 
“Here you go Miss Harper.” Steve said sweetly, handing over yet another stack of baked goods.
Without turning his head, and in the tone of voice one used to warn a misbehaving dog, he added; “Gareth don’t think I can’t fucking see you, get back up here.” 
Caught trying to sink under the table with another cookie in his mouth, Gareth found himself hauled back to his feet by his collar, putting a snarl on Eddie’s face immediately. 
“Hey--” He started, defensive and more than ready to intercede, except Gareth wasn’t flinching or cursing or doing that thing he did with his mouth when he was desperately trying to hold in his temper. 
Instead he was giving a sheepish grin and a half-assed apology while he hung in Harrington’s grasp, before doing what the guy told him to do. 
(It did not help that Steve patted him on the shoulder when he released him, before handing Gareth a third fucking cookie.)
Eddie’s eye twitched a second time.
(He told it to knock it off.
It didn’t listen.) 
No one acknowledged Eddie or his outburst, which meant he was just skulking behind the boys while they all worked. 
Arms crossed, rings tapping a rhythm on his forearm, far too keyed up to do anything other than glare at the back of Harrington's skull.
The King seemed perfectly happy to ignore him.
Likewise, Gareth and Grant knew better than to bother him when he was in a snit. 
Henderson made the occasional snappy little comment, but the brat had mostly left him alone now that they were well into the swing of selling, chortling over the increasing stack of cash Steve kept trying to get him to put into a “safe place.” 
Eddie was seconds away from walking up and snatching the cash himself when Jeff decided it was on him to attempt the impossible. 
Get him to help Harrington. 
“More hands would be nice, Eddie!” Jeff called, looking more than a little harassed as the mom he was helping changed her order a second time, snaking out the last single slice of chocolate cake from another mom who was eyeing it. “Steve and I could really use your assistance over here!” 
Eddie’s glare, which had been doing its level best to try and vaporize the King’s brain, switched targets instantly. 
“I’m supervising.” 
Jeff made a face like he was about to argue, but the King beat him to it. 
“It must be tough,” Harrington said, tilting his head to look back towards Eddie, “to supervise people who are working so much harder than you.” 
Which promptly set the mood for the next full hour. 
xXx 
Harrington was matching him tit for tat.
Every shitty, sneered word out of Eddie’s mouth was met with an equally mean toned barb, though given the repeated looks everyone kept shooting him, Eddie was very much considered the aggressor here.
A fact he cannot believe is coming from his own friends.
What happened to comradery? To Eddie stepping in and protecting them, from the likes of people just like Harrington? 
But no, Eddie makes one fucking comment about how the cookies are probably half hair-spray and suddenly he’s the bad guy.
(Nevermind that Steve had fired right back, telling Eddie that any hair-spray taste was probably from all the drugs he did.)
Was somewhat, halfway--okay maybe amazing, Eddie might have snuck a cookie himself--food really all it took to get them all to turn on him like this?
Erase the years of Eddie being their shield in high school? 
Act like Harrington wasn’t just as bitchy and awful as he had been in high school (even if he was, admittedly, being nicer about it all right now? Almost--aloof, like he couldn’t figure out why Eddie hated him so much, but likewise wasn’t going to take even one eye roll sitting down--and no, no, Eddie wasn't derailing this by thinking about his stupid eyes, he wasn't!) 
Frankly he would have flipped them all the bird and stormed off, if it weren’t for the increasingly weird little comments people were making. 
‘Oh Steve, it's a shock to see you here.’ 
‘Are you doing someone a favor?’ 
‘You know Pastor Jim said something about this game…’
The last one had put Eddie’s teeth on edge, even if Dustin had brushed it off. It hadn’t been aimed at Steve directly but the women saying it had absolutely been looking at the King, as if waiting for his reaction.
Not that Harrington would take the bait this soon, though. 
There were too many people buying fricken…cupcakes and shit, while the King enjoyed the attention of the masses. 
Eventually this tiny crowd would die down though, and that’s when Harrington would change his tune. Start answering some of the questions he seemed to be dodging as more and more people got braver about coming up to the table.
This whole thing was a ticking time bomb, and Eddie would be ready when it inevitably blew. 
To defend his table, his club, his friends. 
Even Henderson, who absolutely didn’t deserve it just then. 
“Dude perk up would you? You look like you’re going to stab somebody.” Jeff hissed at him ten minutes later, when there was finally a break in the flood. 
Eddie ignored him in place of taking stock of the table. (And maybe, sneaking another cookie.)
“Hope you brought more than this, Harrington.” He said, knowing he sounded like a stuck up ass and not feeling an iota of guilt about it. “Unless you plan to run home and bake more like a good little housewife.”  
“Dude.” Grant said, casting him a look like King Dick might leave and take the cookies with him.
“Oh I brought more.” Harrington dismissed, with a small flick of his fingers. “And I’ll have you know you’d never find a housewife more perfect than I am, Munson.” 
Then he turned to nail Eddie with the most shit eating grin he’d ever seen the King wear. 
Facing flaming a brilliant red, Eddie sputtered for a second before finally getting ahold of himself and spitting; 
“How delightful. I--” 
“Okay.” Jeff cut in, forever the mediator. “Gary, Dustin can you help Steve pull the extra stuff out from under the tables? While I go talk to Eddie?” 
“Can I try the tiramisu?” Gareth asked, inching hopefully towards the treat while keeping an eye on Harrington’s hands, lest he get smacked again. 
“Only if you’re a good boy.” Harrington told him sarcastically and goddammit why did that make Eddie blush harder!? 
Jeff sighed, before grabbing his arm and hauling Eddie back, away from the table, right as a younger man in some stupid sport’s jacket asked questions about one of the dice cookies.
“Look I get it man, I do,” Jeff started, voice talking on the sort of wheelding, pleading tone it did when he really wanted something and knew Eddie was opposed. “but Steve’s actually been super cool. We might actually make money off this, and he’s giving us all of it. Can you just… not antagonize him for five minutes?” 
Eddie stared at his best friend in abject horror. 
“You couldn’t have talked to him for more than twenty minutes total. Half of which he spent bitching that you were bagging a cake wrong! At what point was Harrington "being cool!?"
The asterisks were made by his fingers, which Eddie mockingly framed his face with. 
He got a flat, unimpressed stare in return. 
“It was a very informative twenty minutes and he was right about the cake. Now are you going to help or are you going to glower in the corner?” 
Eddie gaped. 
“I cannot believe you right now--”
Jeff didn’t even wait to hear him out.
 “You’ve chosen to glower. I can’t help you man, but we’d all have a much better day if you weren’t at Harrington’s throat every five seconds.” Jeff turned smoothly on his heel.
Over his shoulder he added; “Seriously, don’t come back until you’ve worked your way out of your snit.” 
Shocked, Eddie watched Jeff float back to the front, inserting himself easily between Grant and Steve and immediately striking up a conversation.
With the enemy. 
“I didn’t know you baked.” Jeff told Steve loudly (and very obviously, for Eddie to see.) 
Steve gave a bashful little smile, then shrugged. “It’s a hobby. Got into it back when the basketball team needed to fundraise a few years ago and Tommy’s mom got it in her head we should sell home baked goods. Turns out its kinda fun.” 
“Please never get out of it.” Gareth insisted, a piece of God knows what crammed in his mouth.
“Dude, how many of those have you gotten into!? Stop eating the merchandise!” Dustin commanded, smacking at Gareth’s shoulder. 
“I physically cannot stop man.” Gareth dodged, reaching out for another cookie. “I’m not sorry.” 
Steve just laughed. All charming and buddy-buddy, like it was natural for him to be here. 
Wearing a Hellfire shirt. Making jokes and teasing the guys. 
In Eddie’s fucking place. 
He seethed, fingers twitching, and envisioned the very unsexy murder of one Steve Harrington.  
Cartoon X’s for eyes and all. 
xXx
Trouble didn't hit the table.
It in fact, seemed to stay away as if on purpose, to shove in Eddie's face that he was the one in the wrong here.
Even the questions toned done, as the second wave of moms showed up, this round prompted by some former teammate of Steve’s Eddie didn’t recognize yelling about his apple pie.
Instead, Eddie’s wayward sheep finally made their appearance Mike and Lucas trying to sneak in as if Eddie wouldn’t notice during the new rush.
(Eddie himself almost caused trouble when he realized Lucas was wearing a Not-A-Hellfire shirt, which solved the mystery of where Harrington had gotten his.
He was inching his way towards them, a snarky word on his tongue when he saw Sinclair said something about how he was “already on Eddie’s shitlist for joining the basketball team,” in relation to what must have been a question about his Hellfire shirt, that caused Eddie to freeze.
With the air of a sad, wet kitten, Lucas followed it with; “I’m sure it won’t be long before he kicks me out of Hellfire anyway.” 
Like he'd been punched in the gut, all the air left Eddie’s lungs.
Because before Lucas had said that, Eddie had been thinking it. 
Not really--he’d never kick anyone out of Hellfire.
It was more that he'd thought about it in the way one does when you know you're right, and are having to resort to underhanded tactics to force the other party to come to their senses.
Like a sort of shitty, angry “I should kick you out, let you see what happens when you don’t have us!” kind of innervation.
The same kind he had heard the jocks sling before, when they were mad at each other and--God he wasn’t--he couldn’t be, like them...could he?
Like fucking Harrington, who oh fuck, was patting Lucas sympathetically on the shoulder and giving him some kind of whispered advice. 
Sonovabitch. 
“I’m going for a smoke.” Eddie bit out, vision tunneling.
He knew he needed to go sit down somewhere, before he fucking lost it in front of Hawkin, Harrington and everyone. 
And wouldn’t that just be a treat for King Steve?
To watch Eddie realize he had turned into the very thing he hated, preached against, even? 
That Steve was, maybe, possibly, doing a better job of following Eddie’s own Munson Doctrine than he was?
Eddie barely saw the room anymore--waived off whatever Grant was trying to say to him as flew past, shaking hands fishing for a desperately needed cigarette.
Maybe a hope and a prayer too, because apparently he needed it.
How long had he been like this? 
Been a douchebag asshole? 
Was it the whole year? More than? Or was it just now, with stupid Steve involved? Could he trace this back to that stupidly cute--no, no, annoying, asshole?
Was this some fucked up way of coping with his growing crush!?
Lost in thought and growing self hatred he nearly careened right into Robin Buckley.
Her slightly bent paper reindeer ears marking her as a member of the band kids who had been absolutely butchering ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ a few minutes earlier. 
Vaguely heard her yell Steve’s name as he ran off (because that’s what he was doing. What he always did.
Run--from himself and his own fucking feelings, like a total cliche.)
--but didn’t take in that she was doing more than saying hi to, oh fuck him sideways--her friend.
Because she and Steve were friends.
Good ones, if the freshmen were to be believed.
Rather than go outside and catastrophize in the cold, Eddie threw himself threw the doors at the end of the hall, then up the stairwell, to the second floor.
Tucked himself right into a corner, right there by the stairs.
Sank down into a crouch, hands scrubbing up his face before tangling in his hair, head dropping between his knees, cigarette shoved into his mouth.
Somehow, Eddie decided, this was Steve’s fault. 
He'd have come up with a reason for that, he was sure. A good one even, except he forgot one of the key features of his life.
He was a Munson, and as a general rule of life, nice neat things did not happen to Munson's--but they did get kicked while they were down.
“Okay, what happened?” Steve fucking Harrington asked, voice loudly echoing up the stairwell from down below, and Eddie threw his head back, nearly slamming it against the wall. 
(Maybe he’d pissed off a witch. His life would make a lot more sense if someone had cursed it.)
“She gave me her number!”
That was Buckley, the shrill timber identifiable even as she whispered the words. 
Eddie can’t really see them without giving himself away--could probably make his escape if he got down and army-crawled past the railing he’s huddled by, but figured this is their fault anyway. 
Not his problem if he overhears a private conversation if they’re both too stupid to check to see if someone was seated literally right up above them.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?" Steve was saying. "That’s what we wanted!” 
“Is it!? What if she’s just, you know, giving it to me?” 
“...I’m not following.” 
“Like in a friend way. Not a--”
“Romantic way?”
Harrington has the smarts to say the words quietly.  So quietly in fact, that had Eddie not been in the exact right position he wouldn’t have heard--but he almost swallowed his unlit (he should have lit it, maybe they'd have smelled the smoke and fucked off) cigarette anyway. 
“Sssshh!” Robin hissed, and Eddie can’t see either of them but he imagined her jamming her hand over Harrington’s big fat mouth. 
“Not so loud, Steve!” 
“Sorry, God.” Sure enough, Harrington’s voice is muffled. “How did she give it to you? Did she say anything?” 
“She asked if I want to hang out after band, but because I have that stupid family thing, I told her I couldn’t today, but I can literally any other day, and she said she’d call me, and I said--” 
“Robs, breathe.” 
“Don’t interrupt me, Dingus!” Robin said, voice shrill again, before she clearly listened to Harrington and took a breath. 
 It was big, and deep, and she blasted it back out loud enough for the fucking birds on the roof to hear. 
In a calmer voice, Robin continued; “I said we never traded phone numbers so I didn’t have hers. She grabbed my arm and wrote her number on it. Look, she added a heart!” 
“Okay, here you go! A hearts a good sign!"  
And Harrington sounded--sounds happy for her, practically ecstatic, which doesn’t make much sense given Robin is talking about a ‘her’ and-
And-and-and--
Eddie’s always been quick to connect the dots. 
It’s something he inherited from his old man. A Munson trait he’s tried to make his own through being an excellent DM (and not by robbing people blind or boosting cars.) 
Here, the dots clearly screamed that Robin Buckley was trying to ask a woman out. 
You know, in a gay way. 
Which Harrington not only knew, but was supportive of. 
Steve Harrington, who famously called Jonathan Byers' a queer before smashing the guy's beloved camera into the ground. 
Eddie’s head exploded. 
Or was in the process of exploding--he’s not entirely sure given the tunnel vision was back and his soul felt like it had exited his body entirely. 
Just knew that his world was being remade for a second time in five minutes, and that he was dealing with it pretty damn poorly.
(Maybe God would be nice for once, and just give him the aneurism he clearly deserved.)
Which was of course, when trouble finally did decide to show face, in the form of Dustin Henderson barging through the doors and into Steve and Robin's little meeting.
Eddie knew, because Eddie could hear him.
“Steve! Steve we have a problem!” 
“I’m busy Dustin--”
“Be busy later, we have an emergency on our hands!” 
“And what, pray tell, do you think is an emergency?” 
Eddie, who had instantly latched onto the conversation by the sheer need to have something distract him from his own thoughts, wondered the very same.
“Jason Carver showed up at the table, with a priest. They’re trying to do some whole kind of crazy sermon--is that a good enough emergency for you!?” 
“Oh shit. ” Steve spat, at the same time Eddie yelled it from up high. 
He sprang up, all thoughts of Robin and Steve knowing he’d eavesdropped vanishing entirely from his head as he lunged for the stairs.
Flew down them, because the thing he'd been waiting all fucking day for had finally happened.
He nearly crashed into Robin once again as he blew through the barely closed doors, Steve and Dustin already far ahead of him.
“Eddie?” Robin asked, voice noticeably nervous. "Were you--"
"Not now Starbuck, but we can talk later." Eddie told her, flying right past.
After he saved Hellfire. 
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ikarakie · 1 year
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mike has a panic attack.
it's sudden and it's terrifying and eddie has no idea what to do. one minute they're all yelling and laughing and just playing d&d, and the next, mike is collapsing to the floor struggling to breathe. gasping out the same two names over and over again. the panic attacks eddie's had before were never, never this bad. for a fucking awful moment he thinks he's about to watch wheeler die.
lucas stays with him, crouched by his side and talking in gentle tones. murmuring words of assurance that, while good, don't seem to reach his friend. dustin had sprinted out of the room yelling into a walkie talkie as soon as mike went down, so eddie has no fucking idea what he's up to. not that he's able to focus on much other than the kid (because, god, he's so young, what the hell has happened to him?) trying and failing to just breathe.
he tries the shit that worked for him, trying to get him to breathe in time with his counts, but it's like mike's ears are full of cotton. there's not even a hint of recognition in his eyes as either him or lucas speak.
dustin returns exactly three minutes later, trailed by the last guy eddie would've ever expected to walk through the doors of hellfire club. steve harrington zeroes in on mike like a hawk, crosses the room quickly and crouches in front of him. lucas scoots away, visibly relieved to see steve, so eddie reluctantly does the same. mike's knees are to his chest and he's heaving sobs so powerful they wrack his entire body. for about thirty infuriating seconds, steve just watches.
"oh god- oh fuck- fuck- will, will-" mike is saying, through stilted breaths. "will, el- el- i can't- they're-"
"mike." steve's voice is like honey, low and soothing in a way lucas' can't be yet. mike snaps his gaze up, finally proving his ears work. "where are you right now?"
"hawkins lab-" mike chokes, and eddie just listens, dumbfounded. "hawkins- starcourt- fuck-"
"no," steve says gently. mike stares at him, slightly less glazed. "where are you?" he asks again, a little more pointed. a few seconds pass. mike's eyes dart around the room.
"hellfire." he whispers, barely audible. steve nods, asks if he can come closer, if he can touch mike. the kid nods frantically, and then his hands are being peeled from where they were curled protectively against his chest. they're placed against steve's instead, and they spend the next few minutes breathing in tandem. harrington demonstrating and mike doing his best to follow.
his breathing eventually evens out, thank god, and the heart-wrenching sobs simmer down into quiet tears. mike all but throws himself into the embrace steve offers, tucking his head under the guy's chin and seemingly making himself as small as possible.
"it's okay, you're okay." steve promises, speaking into mike's hair as he gently rocks them back and forth. "they're okay. they're just fine, both of them. you looked after them so well, bud." he keeps whispering reassurances and sweet, kind words into the little cocoon he's crafted. mike stays curled up there for a while, making a wet patch on steve's shoulder.
then finally sounding more like himself, grumbles, "just 'cos we're hugging doesn't mean i like you." after maybe four or five minutes have passed. steve just huffs a laugh, because despite his words, mike is still clutching steve's arms as he pulls back.
"of course not." steve agrees. mike smiles as his hair is carefully ruffled. turns and reaches for dustin and lucas, who waste no time in piling themselves onto their friend. steve doesn't go far though, keeping a hand in the hair at the nape of mike's neck.
it's only then that he finally makes eye contact with eddie, who's watched the whole thing go down with a sick curiosity. because... who was this guy? this was not king steve, or the asshole, cookie-cutter jock steve harrington that eddie knew of. eddie had thought dustin's nickname for him of 'number one babysitter' had been an exaggeration; that maybe he'd watched them a grand total of three times back when he and nancy wheeler dated, and dustin had developed some fixation on him.
but... no, here he was. having brought hard ass michael wheeler down from easily the worst panic attack eddie had ever seen with the ease of someone who's done it a million times. (and wasn't that a harrowing thought?)
"you mind cutting it a bit early tonight, man?" he asks, softly, and it takes eddie a second to register that he's speaking to him. "i know you've still got, like, 20 minutes, but-"
"no, no," eddie cuts him off, kind of desperate for wheeler to get home and rest. "shit, man. that was... yeah, of course, take him." steve smiles appreciatively (an annoyingly pretty expression eddie never imagined him capable of, let alone directing at him), and turns back to the kiddie hug pile.
"hey, boys? mike?" he calls, all gentle and warm. it makes eddie's heart ache; even more so when all three turn to steve with big, shiny eyes. mike's peek out from dustin's arms. "how about we head off now, and stop at that payphone on the corner of glenview on the way home? give the byers a call in california?"
mike nods, hinging on desperate. dustin and lucas give him one more good squeeze before agreeeing themselves. steve corrals them all up, bids a fucking goodnight to the present company, (plus an extra one for eddie specfically), and shuffles them out of the room. eddie, and the rest of hellfire, are left stunned in the wake of babysitter harrington.
(when mike tries to apologise the next day, eddie absolutely refuses to accept it- and, at lucas' timid request, writes the mind flayer he'd introduced out of the campaign entirely. the next session, it's like the thing never existed.)
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imposterogers · 5 months
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one of my favorite things about catfa!steve n bucky is that its very obvious they're not just good friends, they're BEST friends. because there's a very visible tension between them, especially in nyc the night before bucky leaves. they don't play nice. they're mad at each other & they make it very clear. bucky is mad because steve keeps trying to join up (when his biggest fear is steve going to war) and steve is mad that bucky is going somewhere he can't follow. all bucky wanted for his last night was to spend it with steve, but all steve wanted was to find a way to go with him. their last exchange is heated. they fight, they make up, they hug with sad sad eyes. bc they love each other. they love each other and they might never see each other again, but neither wants to admit it. and the thing is, if steve hadn't found a way to follow bucky -- it would have been.
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loveshotzz · 6 months
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My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight
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steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader mini series
There’s no way you could have a crush on ‘The Hair’ … right?
warnings: my blog is 18 + fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mutual pining, fluff, and maybe a sprinkle of smut.
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* Melt With You
* Tongue Tied
* Hell N Back
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bit-odd-innit · 1 year
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Rock star Eddie Munson starts trending because the true crime girlies get their claws in the Hawkins Serial Killer Story and start posting THEORIES about WHAT REALLY HAPPENED until terminally offline middle school guidance counselor Steve Harrington creates a TikTok account to defend his husband’s honor and rip the true crime communities a new one is this anything.
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stevethehairington · 1 year
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"and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for."
- you are jeff, richard siken
The back of the Winnebago is so quiet. It is so so quiet.
Four rowdy children under the same roof and not a single one of them says a word now. No jokes, no laughter, no bickering. The only sound amongst them all is their shaky inhales and measured exhales as they all marinate in this— this.
The plan that has to work, the uncertainty of what lies ahead. The heavy truth that this may very well be the last time some of them see each other.
Even Robin and her near constant stream of consciousness rambling is silent beside him. The only way he knows she's actually there is when they sail over a pothole and her shoulder bumps into his.
It's fucking eerie.
The silent knell of a death march — or ride. Whatever.
It makes Eddie's stomach turn.
Eddie is nervous. He's terrified, actually. This is bigger than anything he's ever dealt with in his life before, and he doesn't know how he's made it this far, he really doesn't.
But even more, he doesn't know how everyone else around him is so... calm. Sure, they've all done this before, it's far from their first time, but jesus fucking christ, have they really gotten used to fighting interdimensional monsters that threaten to destroy the world? Does that not scare the absolute bejesus out of them? He doesn't understand how no one else is losing their head about it. How an eleven year old is facing fucking doomsday like its nothing while he quakes in his god damn boots over here.
Eddie tightens his grip on his makeshift spear, knuckles going white. Clenches his jaw so hard he's scared he'll crack a tooth.
He tries not to think about how a cracked tooth is the least of his worries right now. How that actually doesn't even sound all that bad compared to the cracked limbs and cracked jaw and fucking vaporized eyeballs that loom in their futures. In Max's future.
Jesus christ, she's so young. Chrissy was so young. Eddie is so young.
His chest feels tight all of the sudden, his brain fuzzy and unfocused. His vision starts to go a little spotty and he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe.
He can't fucking lose it, though, he can't. Not here, not now. Not in front of everybody else who's fucking cool as a god damn cucumber.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, tries to slow back down. Digs his nails into his palm until the pain of it grounds him. Brings him back.
The fist around his lungs loosens, just enough, as Eddie walks through the breathing exercises Wheeler taught him when he'd nearly lost his marbles last time.
He hasn't even noticed that the Winnebago has stopped moving. Doesn't see that it's all but emptied out. He's the only one left.
Until Steve god damn Harrington slides into the empty space beside him, close enough to touch, and says, "Hey."
Eddie startles, whole body spasming and flinching back until Steve holds up a hand like Eddie's some spooked wild horse and he's trying to ease him back down.
His heart rate slows, but he's still trembling.
Steve reaches out, and his hand curls around Eddie's wrist, thumb coming to rest just over his pulse point. His hand looks rough, still scraped to hell, covered in dirt and blood and dried bat sludge, but his touch is soft. Gentle.
Despite that, it's still solid. Grounding in a way that Eddie needs.
Eddie looks over, because how could he not, and Steve's... he's already looking back. His eyebrows are drawn together in concern, his mouth pursed, like he wants to say more, but chooses not to.
He looks so... he looks so.
And Eddie feels this, this thing expanding in his chest, looking into those glossy eyes, and it's— it almost feels like, like hope or something equally as ridiculous.
It makes him want to laugh, because who the hell could hope in a time like this?
This situation? It's fucking dire. And their plan? It's built on assumptions and fucking faith.
Someone isn't going to make it. That's just how these things work. Eddie's run enough campaigns with storylines just like this one to know the bitter truth of it. There are too many of them, too many moving parts, too many unpredictables. The odds are just not fucking on their side.
(And he has this terrible, horrible feeling, this rock solid pit, in the bottom of his gut, that it's going to be him.
He's the least experienced here, after all, and he's the most likely to freeze in the face of danger.
If someone's going to die today, it's going to be him.)
It's a fact that Eddie has resigned himself to. He's— he hasn't accepted it, per se, but he's acknowledged it. Has started to let it set into his bones.
It doesn't feel real. But it doesn't not feel real either.
He doesn't know what to feel anymore, really.
But Steve, with his big eyes, and his sturdy hands, and his reassuring touch — he feels a lot like hope, like something better than hope.
Something that Eddie can't quite put his finger on, but it seizes his chest in a whole new way.
Eddie wants to chase that feeling.
Wants to let himself believe.
(He knows he shouldn't.)
(Lying in the dirt and a pool of his own blood four hours later, he's glad he didn't.)
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sam-loves-seb · 1 year
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the fruity four but make it hollywood au (1/x)
actor!steve who’s newly famous for his leading role in last year’s hit romantic comedy, everybody and their mother is in love with the guy, his face is on every fucking billboard across the country, he’s charming and funny and god is he attractive and eddie is so fucking over it.
eddie munson--lead singer and guitarist for successful metal band corroded coffin--doesn’t even know steve harrington but he’s annoyed by him nonetheless. by what, he’s not really sure. his success? his popularity? how his face is literally everywhere eddie turns? who knows! eddie writes him off as another one hit wonder actor who will flop in his next feature or burn out in the next five years from doing too much too fast and not being able to handle the workload or the stardom
but then he meets steve at some 30 under 30 in hollywood party, and he's not at all how eddie expected. they become sort of friends that night, and in the following weeks eddie starts to learn more about hollywood's newest heartthrob
like how steve never really wanted to be an A-list actor, how he never saw himself in the romcom game at first. he learns how steve got his start as a stunt double on a couple of decent coming of age/teenage hijinks action adventure films, how he spent most of his twenties absolutely broke, living paycheck to paycheck and constantly worried between jobs
how steve met his best friend robin (a makeup artist) on the set of his first real gig, and how he pulls her in to any and all of his projects now that he’s a big name (not that she isn’t talented in her own right, she’s damn good at what she does, but they've always looked out for each other like this in the near decade they've known each other). she's been his "date" on more than one red carpet this year, and every couple of months steve has to publicly squash the dating rumors that start to circle them
how steve met his ex-girlfriend nancy wheeler (yes, that nancy wheeler, picture perfect girl-next-door older sister on one of the most famous sitcoms of the last decade) when she starred in a movie where steve was her co-lead’s stunt double, how they dated for about a year and then broke up but stayed friends, even when she went through her rebellious phase and broke out of her cookie cutter miss-teen-perfect shell and had a bit of a "wild child" phase before settling into the indie film scene for a while and fading into the background for a couple of years
how steve never wanted to be an actor--like, not even a little bit--but on this one gig he flirted a little too much with this one casting director that he really liked, and then the next thing he knows he’s being cast as a supporting part in a six part mini series that sort of blew up one summer before everyone immediately forgot about it when fall programming began airing
fast forward a year or so and he’s still doing stunt work--with name recognition comes a steadier stream of gigs, so he's happy with what he's doing, he likes stunt work--when something goes wrong and he gets a pretty bad concussion (just another in a long line of them) and his agent tells him it might be time to hang it up for good for the sake of his health
but he doesn’t know what else to do, he has a little money saved from the mini series but it’s not enough and he needs a new plan, and robin--sweet, sweet robin--tells him about this movie she’s about to start working on where the male lead had to back out last minute and the directors are scrambling and she may have slipped steve’s headshot to the casting director when she caught him having a breakdown in the back room of the studio...
...and that's how steve gets his big break, starring in a well written romcom with an unknown cast that does big numbers at the box office, launching all of them into stardom overnight
and eddie is fascinated by all of this because, well, he thought steve was for sure a nepotism baby or some shit because he’s pretty sure steve grew up with money (he did, but he left it behind to move to LA and pursuit his dreams) and eddie just assumed his dad was a big name producer or something and that’s how steve got into all of this
so the two of them start hanging out and they become fast friends, always photographed getting coffee together trying to avoid the paparazzi or showing up to hollywood's hottest parties together (in an attempt to get both of their agents off their backs and actually show their faces in public) and buzzfeed starts to write these articles about how they're the most unlikely of friends
it takes them six months to start dating.
it takes another year before the press catches wind of it, and by that time they're already living together in a three bedroom luxury apartment in LA with robin and nancy sharing a place right down the hall. steve bought a ring. it sits in robin's sock drawer so eddie won't find it before steve's ready to pop the question
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | ko-fi
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stevesbipanic · 1 year
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Loop Number 312-418
Steve spends 106 loops giving up. He doesn't try anything new. Sometimes Robin dies, sometimes Eddie dies, once he tripped and he died. It all feels pointless.
Of everyone in the party he's the one looping. The idiot, the screwup the disappointment. Nancy would've figured it out after the first loop. Steve didn't even realise he was looping until loop 5. Robin would've done it in a hundred loops. Dustin eighty if he charged his radio. He's tried asking them for help. Sometimes they believe him, but one loop isn't enough to help. Sometimes they think he's crazy, he doesn't blame them, he thinks he's crazy too.
Maybe this is a punishment. Maybe he already died and this is some kind of weird hell. His dad did say if he ever looked at a boy like that again he'd go to hell. Eddie doesn't look like someone you'd find in hell though.
He doesn't even eat in these loops. What's the point, the food tastes stale even though it's new. He doesn't sleep either. Sometimes he welcomes the bats cutting into him, at least then he feels something.
Sometimes when Robin dies he just closes his eyes and waits. He hears Nancy begging him to help but he knows that Robin dies in 68 seconds. He wishes Robin died faster, it makes him feel worse.
He starts turning off the radio after the signal. He doesn't want to hear Dustin scream, he knows Eddie is dead if Robin lives.
The loops blur together.
"I miss your smile Steve."
That was new.
He glances up confused at Eddie who's finished his shield.
"You used to smile all the time in school, even if it was fake half the time. All I'm saying is I miss it."
Steve cracks a smile at that.
Maybe he can try a few more loops, if it means getting his smile back for Eddie.
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herogers · 7 months
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Punk!Steve meeting Tony's parents with a black eye because he got into a fight at a bar the night before (Self defence ofc bc he was sticking up for people👼) and just the sweetest smile on his face standing at the door.
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ghostlyarchaeologist · 6 months
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Actual Fanboy Eliot.
Leverage Redemption S02E01 The Debutante Job.
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flowercrowngods · 1 year
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Prompt that has been eating my brain: Eddie finishes his book, and he hasn't shown it to anybody. Steve knows about it, but he doesn't really know much about it at all. And of course, dedications and acknowledgements. Eddie has been wandering around the apartment grumbling to himself for the best part of two weeks trying to figure them out. What if they fall apart the week after the book comes out? What if they end up hating each other? What if every time he goes to sign his name he's reminded of the boy he lost? I need your thoughts because you have better thoughts on this than me.
you have better thoughts on this than me what the fuck dude 😭 i mean i do have thoughts. i hope they get the bats out of your brain
“Eddie,” Steve’s voice gently breaks through the eerie silence that has oh so mockingly settled in the room. It’s silent because Eddie is staring at the screen, unmoving and petrified. He’s been staring at the word Acknowledgements for so long it has long since stopped looking like a real word, the concept disintegrating while its meaning is only gaining weight, cutting off his throat at the worst of times and making him frown in frustration at the best of times.
The book is finished. It’s done. How come he’s only hitting the hardest part now? It’s fucking laughable.
“Babe,” Steve says again, and this time there’s a warm body at his back, leaning into him until arms wrap around his shoulders and Steve’s cheek comes to rest on the crown of Eddie’s head. “Come to bed,” he whispers, and Eddie leans back briefly, soaking up Steve’s warmth.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he murmurs.
“Liar.” Steve huffs against him and then shifts to press a kiss to Eddie’s hair before moving back to his original position. He must be looking at the screen, and Eddie wants to reach out and hide it, close the windows, shut it all down. “I thought you were done?”
“I am,” Eddie says and sighs.
“But?”
“But I’m being stupid about it.”
Steve makes an unhappy noise and wraps his arms tighter around Eddie. “Wanna talk about it?”
Does he? He doesn’t, it’s stupid, it’s literally not a big deal. He’s just all up in his own head about acknowledgments, because that’s like breaking a wall. Writing a book can be all about the characters, about the setting, about the message or the journey or whatever.
But when you open a book and on the first page it says, For Anna, then that makes it a real thing that happened in this world. It’s not isolated anymore. And when you finish the book and are about to close it, but then it says, I’d like to thank a whole bunch of people without whom this would not have been possible, then that’s sort of the most mortifying thing Eddie has ever had to confront.
Because what if he thanks Dustin but then something happens and they stop being important to each other? His name will forever be in this book, immortalised as long as people know to read these letters and words. What if he dedicates this book to Steve and then they fall apart? Eddie doesn’t want to build the immortality of art on the fragile pillars that are his heart and soul.
But he can’t tell Steve that. Because Steve would look at him, cup his cheeks and tell him not to acknowledge him like that, then. Easy as that, Eddie, now come to sleep.
But it’s not easy as that.
“That depends,” he says at last. “Are you feeling particularly philosophically inclined tonight?”
“Hmm? How’d you mean?” Steve sounds sleepy and wonderful, and Eddie wants to wrap himself up in it. Wants to write a thousand more books and dedicate them all to Steve, because even if it doesn’t last, it exist right now. Their love is worth to be immortalised for what it is.
Okay, maybe he does want to talk about this pretty badly.
“Let’s get ready for bed and then will you let me ramble at you until we fall asleep?”
“Hmm, deal,” Steve says, smile evident in his voice, and he presses another kiss to Eddie’s hair before they head into the bathroom to get ready for bed together.
When Steve pulls the covers over them and cuddles into Eddie’s side, they spend a few minutes just basking in each other before Steve pulls back to look at Eddie.
“Okay, what’s got you so up in your head, hm?”
Eddie explains. And Steve listens. And he doesn’t take Eddie’s face in his hands to tell him not to worry about mentioning him. Eddie is glad he doesn’t.
“There’s enough of everyone I know in these characters already, but still somehow this is different. What if you’ll hate me some day? What if we don’t make it? I don’t… I don’t want to immortalise something that will cause me pain. But I don’t want to run from it either, because no future version of either you or me could change what we have right now, right this second. You will always have been lying next to me just now. Nothing can change that. So it’s really not a big deal, but…”
“But it sort of is,” Steve finishes for him, and Eddie sags into the mattress a little because Steve understands.
If not everything, then the part that matters.
But Steve isn’t done yet, and he has tis thinking face on, the rare one that allows Eddie to lie back and listen as his Stevie will be the one with the rambles tonight.
“I get why you would obsess over that, but I think you might know the answer already, too. And maybe you’re running from that? Because no matter how hard you try, you can only ever immortalise the present. Or the past. But you can’t do that with the future. So what you have to do is to hope and to trust and to try.”
He intertwines their fingers and Eddie pulls him close, nudging Steve to lay his head on his chest the way he loves to do even as he continues talking the thoughts right out of Eddie’s head.
“I mean, obviously I can’t promise you that we will last forever. I wish I could, but time and life are just too tricky to be recklessly challenged by such promises. But I can promise you that no one will leave you because you loved them hard enough to put it in black ink on a paper in the back of your first ever book, Eddie. I know it’s terrifying to communicate to the world that you care about people and to hope that they care right back, but in the end that’s what… That’s what got you to write a book, isn’t it? You talk, very dramatically at times by the way, about the relationship between art and love and life. Obviously, writing the book is art, influenced by life and love. There is no shame in framing your art in a little bit of life and a little bit of love. With the dedication and the acknowledgements. Because you’re you. And you’re loved and you love. No future will change that. Maybe the people will vary, but what you immortalise aren’t necessarily the people themselves. You immortalise for yourself a reminder that good things exist in your life.
And when they leave? They’ll be replaced. And maybe you’ll have a collection of acknowledgements one day. Of all things good. All things life and love and family. And, I don’t know, but I don’t think that’s too bad. Mortifying, sure. It makes you vulnerable, definitely. But most good things do when they’re worth being acknowledged.”
It still baffles him an unfair amount, time and time again, how existential Steve can be sometimes. How much he listens to Eddie to use his exact terms, how much he understands from the barely intelligible mutterings and ramblings that Eddie loses himself in almost immediately, getting all wrapped up in the golden thread until there’s no unwinding anymore and he has to give up.
Buts it’s fine if he gets it all twisted because Steve will be there, right there by his side, and carefully disentangle Eddie’s limbs with a confused little frown because to him it all makes sense somehow, and he doesn’t really understand how Eddie got here.
So when Steve says all of this, Eddie feels gutted. He feels seen. He feels a bit stupid for worrying so much. The weight on his chest is lifted and the obsessive worrying that has made his head all fuzzy is retreating.
Can it be so easy? Can it just be a collection of who he is, whom he loves and who cares for him enough to let themselves be immortalised by a shapely blotch of ink? Can it be okay in the end? Can it be that sixty years down the line, Eddie looks through all his books and reads the dedications and acknowledgements, and think kindly of everyone?
The image makes him long for that kind of peacefulness. A serenity, a love, a lifetime acknowledged.
“No, that’s not so bad at all.”
Eddie’s eyes begin to sting for some reason and he wraps his arms tighter around Steve. A silence settles between them that tastes a lot like freedom.
“Hey, Stevie?”
“Yeah?”
Eddie swallows and smiles into the darkness of their room. “I think I’ll dedicate my first book to Wayne.”
A happy hum reverberates through Eddie’s chest, and Steve, half asleep by now, says, “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
“Thank you, Stevie.” For being the smartest person I know. For loving me. For acknowledging.
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harmonictechnicality · 11 months
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So for no particular reason other than terminal brainrot, I spent my morning researching if Indiana had any notable theme parks…
Now mostly, they have water parks. Which, okay fine. That’s good to know too. But also, there used to be a theme park in the mid 80s to late 90s that had an entire Renaissance Fair Village as one of its attractions. The whole article and wiki page on this place is super interesting (and tragic), so I highly recommend reading it if you’re as into defunct theme parks as I am.
But I just know that our fantasy-loving metalhead was there opening day in 1983 to fuck up a turkey leg and watch some jousting tournaments. He probably went every weekend and was thrilled to learn the construction plans were to build bigger attractions. Thrill rides. Roller coasters.
That is, until, he found out who the park owner was: the most popular guy at his high school’s father. And as much as Eddie hates the rich and despises Steve Harrington’s undeniable charm…
… He’ll do just about anything for a discount.
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thefreakandthehair · 1 year
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A Steddie fanfiction. Rated E. 84k.
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April 1986
“How’re you feeling, Ed?” Steve asks quietly, preserving the stillness of the night that surrounds them. 
“Think I’m alright, a little tired.” Eddie watches the gentle waves that ripple out from his shins kicking softly in the water. It’s been a long day, even he has to admit that, and he’s feeling… well, that’s the end of the sentence. He’s feeling. 
It’s the first time Eddie’s been around everyone all at once since the Upside Down and the kids, they mean well and he knows that, surrounded him with so much love that it’d become overwhelming. So had sitting upright, walking around, talking. The last hour or so, he’d gone ghost— transparent without actually disappearing— and the others followed his lead. Pretend you’ve vanished hard enough and the people around will you pretend, too. Except for Steve, he discovers.
It’s an odd thing though, preferring to be still, to be quiet, and he hates that the Upside Down has stolen this piece of himself, too. Steve’s assured him that it’s okay, that he’ll be his boisterous, loud, antsy self again when his body’s healed but it’s taking too long for Eddie’s liking. Or comfort. 
“You know it's normal, right? It’s a lot, Ed. You didn’t even have to stay out here the whole time, no one would’ve minded or blamed you.” Steve sits next to him, letting his feet slide in beside Eddie’s. Everyone else is inside— kids, parents, everyone who’s made the Harrington House their base while waiting for the government pay-outs and new homes. It’s late now, but Steve and Eddie take advantage of the silence as they so often do. 
“Yeah, yeah I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 
Steve nods and lets his pinky touch the edge of Eddie’s, palm down on the cold, wet concrete. 
“You don’t, you’re right. I didn’t either. For what it’s worth though,” Steve takes a breath, thinks about how he wants to word this without making a confession he’s not yet ready for, “I like every version of you.” 
Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest and he watches the ripples from Steve’s legs blend into his. Huh, he thinks, something symbolic there. 
He doesn’t respond, just wraps his pinky around Steve’s. 
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sky-neverending · 1 year
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i’m a dyslexic!Steve truther. mainly bc i like the idea that Eddie reads to him. most nights they end up sprawled across the couch with one of Eddie’s “nerd books” in hand and Eddie reads, doing little voices and acting things out with his hands when he can. Steve enjoys every second of it, because it’s something Eddie enjoys, and something Eddie took the time to do for him. he so sits through whatever book he isn’t really interested in because Eddie makes it interesting. and if he spends most of the time staring at Eddie and not actually paying attention? if he makes Eddie go back and read certain passages again while he gets more and more confused until he has to ask what the hell is happening? Eddie doesn’t say anything about it.
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