#stevexeddie

[hawkinsboys]

steve x eddie gifs | hawkinsboys 🧡🖤

[sharkie-writes0]

Au where Steve has a sister

Somehow, she always got the most attention.

Steve got an A on an assignment? Too bad his sister needs help with a school project.

Steve made Capitan of the basketball team? Well his sister needs mom and dad’s attention right now.

Eventually he just stopped bringing up his achievements, to anyone really. Kept everything he was proud of and happy about to himself, didn’t wanna bother anyone with it.

So of course when Eddie finds a letter on their counter addressed to steve from his dream college he worries. What if Steve didn’t get in? Did they reject him that badly? Was he embarrassed by the fact his dream school didn’t want him? But nope! Once Eddie opens the letter he sees the word “congratulations!” In big bold letters at the top of the page.

He sits there for a moment, a little confused but then Steve walks into the living room. He’s tired from a long shift and wants to just sit down and relax when he sees Eddie staring at him slack jawed and holding his acceptance letter

“When…when did this happen?” Eddie stutters, still processing this whole situation

“Oh…a couple weeks ago. I was gonna tell you tonight. It’s not that big of a deal honestly” Steve says sheepishly

“Not a big deal!? This is huge baby! You got into your dream school! How are you not jumping at the chance to tell people?!” Eddie says, waving the letter around

“I didn’t…I didn’t think it mattered that much” Steve says, looking down at his shoes and fidgeting with his vest

“Baby, why on EARTH would you think that? I am so unbelievably proud of you. You’ve worked your ass off for this.” Eddie says softly, placing his hand on Steve’s jaw

Steve looking at him with wide eyes, no one had ever really told him they were proud. So as the words left Eddie’s mouth he felt tears well in his eyes

Eddie pauses, seeing the tears about to spill from his boyfriend’s eyes and smiles “baby…I’m so proud of you, you did so good” he says, pulling Steve into a warm hug

Steve can’t do anything as the tears fall down his face, both happy and sad as he lets his face fall into Eddie’s shoulder.

They’re gonna need to have a long talk about this

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Idek if this is anything, it might be shit because I’m tired but this has been in my mind for weeks

[emchant3d]

It’s the fourth time this week Eddie’s been late without a phone call.

Sure, his job has him working weird hours - Steve gets it. But he also knows his schedule and he knows the days Eddie works at the bar til close and he knows the days he’s supposed to be home before dark, and he hasn’t had a closing shift once this week. 

Yet he came home near ten tonight, and Steve had been worried and nervous and yes, sure, a little - a lot - insecure about it, and maybe he’d lashed out first, or maybe Eddie had, Steve doesn’t know, but he knows they’re standing in the living room shouting at one another and it’s all coming to a head and he can’t stop himself, can’t keep from getting loud and angry and–

"Do you even want to fucking be here?" he yells.

"Not when you're acting like this!" Eddie says, and Steve's throat goes tight like there's a fist wrapped around it. 

Not when he's acting like this, he thinks. Not when he's being too needy. Too pushy. Too demanding.

Something in his brain feels like it rewires. Their relationship flips on its head, and suddenly fear is coiling in Steve's stomach, not anger. 

He'll lose Eddie if he keeps pushing like this. If he demands too much of his time, pulls him away from what he'd rather be doing, makes himself too much work, he'll lose him. Eddie always said he wasn't going anywhere. That he loves Steve, wants to be with him, will never get tired of him. Steve was a fucking idiot to take that at face value.

He feels sick to his stomach. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Eddie to forget all about what he said, wants to show how sorry he is, but between one moment and the next he's feeling like a guest in his own home, and he's very familiar with how it feels to be unwelcome.

So instead he shakes his head. Eddie wants to be left alone, probably. Doesn't want to see Steve when he's mad at him. Doesn't want to deal with him. He'll make himself scarce.

"I'm staying in the guest room tonight," he says stiffly, and turns away, only faltering a little when Eddie mumbles 'what the fuck ever' behind him. He flinches when Eddie slams the front door and closes the spare room so quietly it barely even clicks.

– Eddie gets home late.

Like, late-late. Steve hears the front door open as he's staring at the clock on the bedside table, the bright red numbers burning into his vision. Why did they even put a fucking clock in here, he thinks. It's the guest room. Why did he insist on furnishing this room like someone might live in it? Like this was a home people would be in and out of, like their family would come and stay with them long enough to need an alarm clock on the bedside table?

Desperate, a voice in his head hisses at him, desperate and needy and full of wishful thinking that someone would want to stay around sad little Steve Harrington long enough to need anything--

Eddie's coming down the hallway. He's trying to be quiet, but he forgot to take his shoes off at the door and his Reeboks squeak a little against the hardwood. It's a familiar sound. Comforting, usually. It's how he knows his honey's made it home safe when he's out late, that tell-tale squeak and the little stumbles when he's tipsy and making his way through their home after a long gig.

There was no gig tonight, though, and Eddie's footsteps are steady and even despite the soft sound of rubber on wood. He isn't drunk, Steve doesn't think - and is that better or worse? That he left after a fight and didn't even go somewhere to drink it off. Where has he been, if not their usual bar to think about what they'd spat at one another, trying to think of solutions, of apologies?

And is Steve really owed an apology? He was overbearing. He was pushy. He was demanding and authoritative and too fucking much all over again, and Eddie lashed out in response, and does Steve deserve an apology after all that? He's been going around in circles with himself all evening about it, arguing in his own head, saying yes I deserve one because my feelings were hurt and no I don't deserve one because I lashed out first and how does he answer this for himself? He doesn't know.

He knows he'd do just about anything to make the empty feeling in his chest go away, though. Knows that he'd shove his hurt away and eat his words and apologize to Eddie and never, ever push again if it meant he knew where they stood. If it meant Eddie would forgive him and never storm out like that again, if it meant Steve knew he wouldn't be left alone like this to wonder if Eddie was coming back.

And he feels so dramatic - he can hear Robin's voice already, telling him it was just a fight, that there's no reason to get this worked up about it, but Steve can't help it. Slammed doors and loneliness are the soundtrack to his childhood and he can't help the panic he feels when someone he loves leaves.

"Do you want to be here?" he'd asked, like a fucking idiot, and Eddie hadn't said yes. Steve swallows around the lump that's taken up permanent residence in his throat. Reaches to swipe a hand over his face, rubbed raw, eyes burning with tears he won't let fall because what right does he have to cry? He brought this on himself. He always brings it on himself.

Eddie's feet are still squeaking their way slowly down the hallway, he's trying not to wake Steve - or is he just trying not to be noticed? Impossible, if Eddie Munson is in a room Steve is going to notice, how can he not? He's been yanked into that gravitational pull and there's no escape for him, not anymore, he's a moon circling around the solar system and Eddie is the sun, burning bright and pulling focus and what is Steve to do in the face of that?

He keeps his eyes fixed on the clock. Watches the display change when a minute's passed. Feels his heartbeat stutter when Eddie's shuffling, squeaking steps pause outside the guest room.

They keep a hall light on at night. It's on a dimmer, turned down way low, but neither of them do well with complete darkness. Too many nightmares, too many shadows haunting and hunting the both of them. Steve can see the muted glow of it from beneath the door.

He can also see when Eddie comes to a stop because his feet block that light. Two shadows in the doorframe, obscuring the soft haze of warm orange that creeps in a half-moon over the carpet, and Steve stops breathing. There's a soft shifting noise, fabric over wood, a gentle thunk when Eddie leans against the guest room door, and Steve almost calls out to him. Almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, please don't leave again, please don't leave me, but the words stick in his throat. Ball's in Eddie's court, as it should be when Steve fucked up so bad, when he tried to ruin it all, when he made Eddie so mad that he left when he promised Steve he would never do that. Eddie's a good man. Keeps his word. Steve's the problem, Steve is always the goddamn problem, always will be, ruins and stains everything he fucking touches–

The shadow disappears. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so tight he sees lights popping behind his lids. Those shuffling squeaking steps continue their way down the hall. Steve feels like he's going to throw up but he didn't have dinner so there's nothing in his belly but bile and nothing comes up even though his throat is tight and his stomach is fucking rolling.

The bedroom door - their bedroom door - creaks on its hinges. Steve keeps meaning to put some WD-40 on it but he kind of likes that it makes a noise, that when he's asleep it's just loud enough to wake him halfway and tell him to anticipate the warm wash of tobacco and sandalwood that will cloud him when Eddie slips beneath the covers. Lets him know he's about to be grabbed and groped a little bit, sweet little kisses pressed to his shoulder and neck and jawline until he's got a face tucked into the curve of his throat, until he's giving a sleepy smile and winding his arms around a trim waist and dragging Eddie in close, sputtering and laughing tiredly as wild hair gets in his face and mouth before he falls asleep again, wrapped tight around the love of his life.

None of that tonight, apparently - and he doesn't blame him. No, he hears the bedroom door creak and it feels like a punishment that he deserves and his eyes burn and burn and burn and his face is wet now, he can't help it, and he wipes at it again angrily, takes the soft blanket to his face and why is it so soft why does Steve try so hard when he knows he won't get anything back why does he try to build a home when he's never had one and never will and is going to lose the one he's clawed onto so desperately and tried so hard to keep–

The door creaks again. Steve takes a stuttering breath. Eddie's steps are soft now as they come down the hallway, bare feet on the floor, almost silent as he creeps his way closer. Steve clenches his teeth so hard his jaw aches, anything to hold back the sounds he wants to make - he can't let Eddie hear him. He can't let Eddie know he's crying. That's manipulative, isn't it? Crying in front of the person he hurt? He won't do it, won't be that selfish, but that shadow appears at the base of the door again. Steve can't help the shaky inhale he takes, and it sounds so fucking loud in the quiet of the guest room, choked and echoing. 

"Baby?" Eddie says, voice low and quiet, rapping so gently against the door with one knuckle. "You in there, Stevie?" 

Just the sound of him is enough to send his heart crashing around in his ribcage, fluttering and jumping and making Steve tense. He wants to answer but he can’t get the words to form, his throat feels sealed shut, and he wonders if he should answer even if he were able because what could Eddie possibly have to say right now? It can’t be anything good and Steve doesn’t know if he can take it right now, in this room that makes him feel like a guest in his own home - but isn’t he always a guest? Isn’t that what he’s made to be, a temporary stop in everyone else’s story?

But he’s not ready for Eddie to move past him yet. Not tonight. Let it happen in the morning if it has to happen, let him put this off just a little longer. Just please, not tonight. Not yet.

But Eddie’s never been known for his patience, and the click of the latch has Steve slamming his eyes closed. Too late to roll over and hide his face, but he’s got enough time to duck down and tuck most of his features into a pillow. He tries to let his body relax, to let the tense lines of his muscles uncoil and his shoulders drop and his fists unclench, but he can’t tell if he’s managed it and the ache in his palms from his blunt nails tells him maybe he did, but it won’t help much.

Eddie makes his way across the carpet in silent steps, and the mattress dips with his weight as he sits on the edge of it. Steve’s fingers twitch to reach for him, but he just curls them into the sheets instead and hopes the motion looks absent enough to have happened in his sleep. 

He smells sandalwood and tobacco and feels the warmth from Eddie being so near but it feels like there’s a wall between them, one he can’t cross even if he tries, one he’s barred from so much as touching. 

He works hard to keep his breathing even but it’s hitching now and then despite his best efforts, shaky and too loud in the silent room, but he keeps up the charade even though the end of it all is perched right in front of him. And it’s Eddie who puts an end to it. It was always Eddie who was going to put an end to it.

“I know you’re awake,” he says, and Steve squeezes his eyes tighter like that’ll make it untrue, like he can just drift off in a second if he wills it hard enough. Eddie shifts on the mattress, and Steve curls tighter into himself. “Let’s just hash this out, huh? Get it over with.” Steve bites his tongue so hard he thinks he might taste blood. It’s that simple for Eddie - but it’s always simple, isn’t it? Cut and dry, plain as day, Steve is the only one who can never see it coming, it’s written on the goddamn walls for everyone else.

He risks peeking through his lashes but Eddie’s got his back to him so it doesn’t even matter, not really. Eddie isn’t looking at him and so Steve allows himself to look, takes in the hunch of Eddie’s shoulders, the curve of his spine beneath his thin pajama shirt - he’d changed, when he’d made his way through their creaky bedroom door, took off his clothes and put his pajamas on and kicked off those tennis shoes, they’re probably in a pile at the foot of the bed for Steve to trip over and he will miss tripping over them, he’ll miss it terribly.

He wonders if he’ll need to move. If he’ll have to find a new place and separate out all of their things into his things, if SteveAndEddie’sStuff will become Steve’s stuff and Eddie’s stuff. Or maybe he’ll just start staying in this guest room, maybe that’s why he furnished this room so completely, because somehow he knew he’d end up alone in it.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and Steve inhales sharply.

“Don’t,” he says, and somehow he keeps his voice steady.

“So you are awake,” Eddie says, and he tries to sound teasing, sound playful, but it drops like a stone in this space between them. No room for levity in the dark cloud Steve’s filled this room with. He wishes he could be easygoing and let go gently, but it’s Eddie - in what world could he take losing him graciously?

“Yeah,” he says, and he stares at Eddie’s back as the other raises his head, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Steve, and he wishes he could at least look him in the face when he rips his heart out of his chest.

part 2

[joseph-munson]

Eddie: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Steve: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?

Eddie: Seize this dick.

[kennahjune]

HI OMG HELLO

Just a little obsessed with the whole “projecting my interests onto Steve” train I have going so here ya go—

Steve who has an interest in mythology of just about any kind but specifically Greek Mythology because “holy shit everyone’s gay.”

Steve’s hosting the usual Saturday hangout at his house because it’s the one time everyone’s schedules line up. He’s sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, Robin on the floor to his right and Dustin to his left. Everyone else is spread among the couches and armchair, squeezing together in a way that seems more uncomfortable and over heated than the Devil’s asscrack.

Dustin was going on a ramble about something science-y. Robin and Mike would cut in occasionally with their own arguments and begin a whole new debate. Steve wasn’t paying much attention though.

His focus was on Eddie, who was staring intently at the living room window. Specifically the one that held his mothers flower vases.

When there was a break in the argument where everyone caught their breaths and gathered their thoughts, Eddie struck.

“What kind of flowers are those?” He pointed at the light yellow vase with a complicated floral pattern.

Steve paused and debated answering. He knew it was a trap. The flowers in that vase held a long story— one that everyone in the room would be subjected to hearing if Steve couldn’t help himself.

But Eddie was looking at his expectantly, Dustin tilting his head in curiosity, and even Mike eyeing him with a genuine wonderment.

So, Steve naturally conceded. “They’re hyacinths.”

Argyle whistled lowly. “Pretty name.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah well— they get their name from one of the prettiest people in history. In my opinion anyway.”

That seemed to pique everyone’s interest. Bad move on Steve’s part. At this rate, he’s gonna crack and go on a rant. Nobody wants to listen to his rants.

“Who do they get their name from?” Will asked, pulling his feet up to sit crisscross on the armchair. Mike was sat right next to him on the seat, squished into the arm but making no complaints. Mike nodded at Will’s question, as if agreeing that he also wanted to know.

Steve shifted and pulled one leg to his chest, resting his arm on it and fiddling with his hands. He avoided eye contact with just about anyone, before cracking a little more and looking at Robin.

With the nod she gave him, Steve felt himself break.

“They get their name from the Roman Prince Hyacinthus.”

Nancy hummed and took a sip from her Coke. She waved her hand as if urging him on. Steve continued.

“Um— well Hyacinthus was a Roman Prince beloved by all, including the God Apollo—“

“But isn’t Apollo a guy?” Mike interrupted. Looking over, Steve saw the pure curiosity and something that looked like hesitation on his face. Next to Mike, Will looked equally if-not-more hesitant but also very happy (?).

Steve allowed himself a small grin and nodded. “He is indeed. Hyacinthus is actually the first openly gay Greek character that we know of.” Steve’s smile brightened at the grin that made itself present on Will’s face and look of pure endearment on Mike’s.

“Anyways— Apollo fell in love with Hyacinthus but so did Zephyros, the God of the West Winds. Hyacinthus chose Apollo over Zephyros, however. And one day while Apollo and Hyacinthus were being all couple-y or whatever in the fields and playing discus, Zephyros took advantage of the winds and sent a discus spiraling straight at Hyacinthus and it ended up killing him on impact.”

He paused to take a breath, the story taking hold of him. Steve could feel the rush of excitement at finally talking about it— this story was his favorite and the next part always got him.

Among his break, he looked up and started at Eddie’s eyes on him. Of course, everyone’s eyes were on him, but Eddie’s shone with such a fondness that Steve felt himself having to do a minor breathing exercise to calm his heart down.

He cleared his throat with a cough and picked up where he left off, tilting his eyes down and keeping them on his fidgeting hands.

“Well— um, it was typical ‘if I can’t have you no one can’ fashion but the death shook Apollo to his very core and after trying everything in his power to get Hyacinthus back he finally gave in and grew the hyacinth flowers from the grass wherever Hyacinthus’ blood touched ‘to keep him in the sun where he belonged’.”

And with that, Steve looked around at everyone in the room. El’s eyes were filled with wonderment. Sitting next to her, Max looked shocked— though, at the story or Steve, he was unsure.

Jonathan had a small smile playing at his lips as well as Nancy. Argyle gave him a thumbs up and a “cool”.

Mike and Will were both seemingly buzzing with excitement and joy, Steve could see it in their eyes and on the matching grins they wore.

Dustin and Lucas— the latter sitting behind Steve on the couch— we’re both grinning at Steve and talking over each other, trying to tell him several different things at once.

But over the chaos surrounding him, Steve’s eyes were drawn to Eddie’s. Doe eyes filled with fondness and endearment. Steve’s grin turned to a bashful smile and he was quick to turn away.

He instead focused on Dustin and Lucas, pretending to not notice when Will followed Mike to the kitchen. From the knowing glint in Jonathan’s eyes, he also knew what was happening. They shared a snort and cheersed their Coke cans.

When the night was over and Steve was fresh out of mythology tales to tell the Party, everyone began leaving.

Mike, Will, and El left with Jonathan and Argyle. Nancy drove Robin, Dustin, Lucas and Erica as well as Max— who was spending the night at the Sinclair’s.

It was when Steve went to clean the living room that he noticed he never saw Eddie leave.

Instead, the metal head was standing by the window in the living room. The same window with the hyacinths. Steve furrowed his brow in confusion and walked over.

The moment Steve was within reaching distance, Eddie pulled him into his side. Steve let out an ‘oof’ sound, and caught himself on Eddie’s chest. Rather than pulling away from the other, Steve made himself comfortable and settled into Eddie’s side with his head on his shoulder.

“I love hearing you ramble,” was the last thing Steve heard before Eddie kissed him soundly.

[innytoes]

Happy birthday @hawkguyhasstarbucks!

They shouldn't work. Steve was King Steve, known for his amazing hair, his love of sports, his cool guy personality. Eddie was known for his wild, untamed tresses, his nerdy hobby, and being a general freak.

Except they did. Because it turned out Steve was a massive dork, and Eddie had a soft spot for guys who cared about kids. Even little shitweasels like Mike and Dustin. (Especially little shitweasels like Mike and Dustin.)

So maybe they didn't always agree on everything, like what good music was, or the best way to spend an Sunday afternoon (besides, you know, staying in bed all day), or whether or not dipping fries into a milkshake was acceptable behaviour.

But they agreed on the important stuff. Like 'fuck all these demons from another dimension', and pineapple on pizza (no matter what Argyle said), and 'we can never let Dustin know he's the reason we got together'.

[little-annie]

Licorice Ice Cream | Little_Annie

—--

It was just any other Saturday afternoon in the Forest Hills Trailer Park. Dogs barking, kids screaming, some fat drunk guy laid out on his lawn in nothing but suspiciously stained gitch. It was the furthest thing from nice, but it was familiar.

As was the absolutely sweltering trailer that surrounded Eddie as he laid in a puddle of his own sweat on the kitchen floor. It was the coldest surface he could find, what with the AC dead and any fan in the tin can he called home busted.

Much like the drunk laying on his lawn across the dirt road, Eddie was in his gitch, though, his were perfectly clean, thank you very much. Maybe just a wee bit sweaty is all.

Okay. Ick.

Anyways, gist of the story is: It's summer in Indiana and it's fucking hot.

And Eddie's van is broken down because of course it is, so he can't go anywhere that actually has AC until Wayne gets home and it's not like he's fucking going outside to 'catch a nice breeze' in the meantime. No thank you.

So yeah, Uncle Wayne needs to get home.

Which is in hmmm, t-minus 34 minutes and 26 seconds. You know, according to Eddie's watch, because yes, he's counting down the seconds until he can get out of Satan's literal asshole.

Fuck this Indiana heat, man.

Eddie didn't hate it as much when he was a kid; running through the sprinklers, climbing enormous trees, jumping into the algae ridden quarry, but now?

Now, he despises it. He loathes it.

He'd rather saw off his own dick and throw it to the Owlbear's than suffer another day sweating his nonexistent tits off in this trailer.

But

That's ever so slightly fucked up and really, Eddie loves his dick and could never imagine his life without it. He appreciates it. All however many inches of it. Even though some days it likes to say a 'hello' at some very inopportune times.

Like that time Billy Hargrove grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the lockers.

Or you know literally anytime he actually attended gym class.

Or that one mortifying time he had to get something from Jeff's locker, only to learn Steve Harrington's was directly below it and apparently the man had no concept of personal space. Just said a shy 'scuse me' and dropped to his knees, only to look up at Eddie with pig pretty puppy dog eyes and have the damn audacity to look like that. Fuck. Yeah, Eddie Jr. liked that very much.

Anywho.

He's here, pale, sweaty skin sticking to the lukewarm linoleum and toast crumbs on the kitchen floor, refusing to think about the fact that his Uncle's nasty ass old man feet slap across it every morning when he makes breakfast.

Eddie shudders at the mere thought he was trying to avoid.

Then checks his watch.

32:16 remains

Jesus fuck.

Well, maybe while he's here he can do something productive, like….like count what he can see of his Uncle's coffee mug collection?

Eddie's eyes blur as he wipes sweat from his brow and tries to focus on the ceramics lining the wall across from him.

'CAUTION, be sure BRAIN is engaged before putting MOUTH in gear'

'I'd rather be having a beer!'

'Wyoming. Less people. Less Problems."

'Have a nice poop'

'#1 Dad'

'Life's like a stripper, you can ……

—

Eddie swears he blacked out for a minute because, the next time he opens his eyes, it's to a very amused Uncle Wayne standing above him and a dusty steel toed boot nudging him in the ribs.

Wayne smiles down at him, all sweet with his tobacco stained teeth while he asks, "Wanna go to the mall kid?"

And well, let's just say, if Eddie could move that fast regularly, maybe he wouldn't have had so many 'heart to hearts' with Chief James Hopper over the years about his 'troubled youth' and how it led to his 'drug dealing business.'

Wayne hardly has a chance to suck in a breath after his question before Eddie's barreling down the hall to his room for a change of non-sweaty gitch and clothes.

It's when Eddie's pulling on a pair of black cutoffs that he hears Wayne yell down the hall, "Don't forget pit stick boy! If you've any chance with the men in this town, you least should try not smellin' like Hank's ass!"

Hank being the nearly naked fucker passed out drunk on his lawn across the way.

Eddie can hear Wayne snickering to himself in his old man huff of air way from down the hall as he calls back a laughing, "Fuck you old man!"

Receiving a "Love ya too Ed!" in response.

—

Not twenty minutes later and Eddie finds himself sighing in relief as he enters Starcourt mall. The air's frigid, his skin pricking delightfully into goose flesh with every nonsensical stride he takes.

He has nowhere in mind, purely wandering this cesspool of forced conformity and capitalism for the pure enjoyment of free air conditioning.

Soon enough Wayne finds himself a spot nearest the fountain, a screaming child to his left and a bitchy mother to his right. Though he seems none the wiser as he basks in the delightfulness of cool air around him, tipping his hat low and crossing his hands over his stomach, assuming his position for an apparent public nap.

Crazy old fucker.

Although capitalism is the actual devil and forced conformity is its ugly brother, Eddie can't help but feel the pull in his bones to at least check out the art supply shop.

Sue him. He wants to get more minis to paint for his upcoming campaign.

So that's how Eddie spends his time in the mall. Staring at tiny ceramic figurines, trying to come up with ways he can carve them down or add to them with modelling clay to make them further appear as NPCs from his rapidly building campaign.

Well and if he flirts with the guy behind the counter because he's giving off serious vibes, sue him twice.

It sure didn’t seem like Mr. Blue Eyes With A Pink Hanky in His Left Pocket, minded all that much.

All fluttery lashes and rosie cheeks.

—

The mall's twenty minutes from closing when Eddie goes searching for Wayne.

You'd think it'd be easy to find a 5'11, grumpy looking, old white man wearing blue jeans and a grey t-shirt in an Indiana mall.

Hah.

Yeah only half the population of said mall.

Much to not Eddie's surprise, Wayne had left his original post, probably in search of food, leaving a much rounder middle aged man to take his previous position.

Though they weren't technically father and son, Eddie can see a lot of himself in Wayne. Especially the constantly hungry and always needing to be moving aside from a fifteen minute power nap side of himself.

So, in order to find Wayne, Eddie just thinks of where his 56 year old self would have wandered off to. Food, being the most likely contender.

There's a steak house on the opposite end of the mall where Wayne could have possibly gone for a beer.

A pizza place where Eddie knows they serve Wayne's favourite pie by the slice daily.

A Diner with arguably the second best milkshakes in town, the first being Benny's on highway 6.

And finally, Scoops Ahoy, the most likely of the candidates.

If Eddie were a 56 year old, grumpy fucker, wearing blue jeans and a grey t-shirt, who just got off a 12 hour shift, is sweating his balls off, brought his pain in the ass nephew-son to the mall and just woke up from a fountain-side nap, yeah, he'd probably think about being balls deep in some strawberry ice cream too.

To Scoops Ahoy it is!

Trying not to trip on the ample amount of crotch goblins stomping through the mall, Eddie eventually makes his way to the ice cream shop. Seeing Wayne's salt and pepper hair through the front window amongst many other heads, Eddie opts to grab a seat outside due to the frankly sickening amount of patrons inside.

Not five minutes later does Eddie hear a playful shout of his name come from inside. His head snaps up to see Wayne tapping the glass that'd been facing Eddie's back a second ago. There's a calloused finger waving Eddie in as Wayne continues to speak to him through the glass, "I'm at the till kid, ya want anything?"

Um. Yeah. Does a Wererat shit in subterranean tunnel complexes beneath cities?

(The answer is yes. According to the Dungeons & Dragons 1st Edition Monster Manual.)

When Eddie pops his head into the shop it's not nearly as busy as it was a few minutes ago, most patrons probably grabbing a cone and dipping out before the mall closes.

But, to Eddie's surprise, as he reaches the counter, popping over Wayne's shoulder to take a peek at the menu, he sees the most glorious thing to grace this God forsaken planet.

To say Eddie's heart falls out of his ass in that moment is an understatement.

You see, they haven't been to the mall yet this summer, money's been tight, the weather hasn't been unbearable and they have more important things to spend their cash on.

But today, today is a different story. Eddie's sure he would have died of heat exhaustion had he stayed in that damn trailer any longer and both he and Wayne have been working extra shifts to round up some extra coin.

Coin, that they can spend on ice cream.

Coin, that along with Eddie's heart and jaw hit the floor at the site of Steve fucking Harrington in a sailors costume.

Because you see, if it wasn't for today Eddie would have never had the chance to see this. All five foot, eleven inches of pure American standing like a clip out of Playgirl in probably the sluttiest shorts Eddie has ever seen.

Not to mention the tight ass and chiselled thighs to boot.

Eddie's never believed in God, but after today, you might just find him worshipping at the altar or more likely confessing to father about the things Steve Harrington's bare legs are making him feel.

He's gobsmacked. Absolutely flabbergasted. Downright thunderstruck.

And he's definitely not going to go into detail about where his mind has wandered to in the moments he's begun to drool down his chin and hear "I Want to Know What Love Is" by Foreigner play in the background of his preoccupied pea brain.

"Ed."

"Son"

Oh shit.

"Huh?" He gulps, wiping his chin with the bottom half of his copped tank, eyes trying to refocus on the menu and not the Adonis standing with his gams out mere feet away.

"Steve here was asking if you wanted anything."

Eddie grits his teeth and blurts the first thing his eyes land on, "Licorice."

"Cup or cone?" Steve asks sweetly like Eddie's not having to fight off a stiffy by repeating 'dead puppies, Vietnam War, Wayne's had sex before,' like an anti public boner mantra.

"He'll have a cone." Wayne answers for him while crouching to pick up the change Eddie had dropped earlier, pinching his nephew's pale ankle in the process in hopes of bringing him back to life.

"Yep." Eddie agrees dumbly, voice nearly cracking with nerves.

And then for a moment it's definitely worse because fucking Steve 'Ass Sculpted by Michelangelo' Harrington turns around and bends over. Eddie's surprised he doesn't have a coronary. Or his eyes bulge out of his skull. Or he just like, fucking, fuck, he doesn't know, spontaneously combusts or some shit.

What the fuck is life right now?

Then he hears that old man huff of a laugh off to his left. Uncle Wayne.

Eddie's neck nearly breaks at the speed he turns his head to meet the sly smirk of his old man. He's never stared daggers so intensely into Wayne's soul as he is now.

All fire and brimstone and death and 'Jesus christ shut up old man.'

But Wayne continues to huff like the bastard he is.

Fucker.

But like, Eddie still loves him and is eternally grateful for everything the man has done and sacrificed for him over the years, even as he flips him off while the man continues to laugh.

Then there's Steve's buttery smooth voice that breaks him out of his death stare, "Will that be everything?"

Eddie just stares as his eyes finally meet Steve's, or well, actually his lips, but close enough.

God they look good, pink and plush, kissable, fuckable, come-on-able. Oof, Jesus he needs to get out of here.

Eddie's dick twitches behind his denim at the thought and before he can even grab his ice cream, he's fucking hightailing it out of there like a weirdo and squeaking out a pathetic excuse of a "thanks."

A whole minute later Wayne finds Eddie sitting on a bench out of view from the ice cream shop windows, pouting, lip out, brows furrowed and arms crossed. He joins him with a shit eating grin as he chuckles, "The Harrington boy huh?"

"No." Eddie answers defensively and rather quickly, not bothering to spare Wayne a glace.

It's quiet for a moment, then Eddie hears Wayne from beside him, "Didn't know you liked Licorice."

Eddie huffs, taking the cone from Wayne's grasp with a grumbled, "I don't."

[digital-squirrel]

Let's say Eddie DOES survive, right? Him and Steve are getting along really well, skirting the line between REALLY GREAT FRIENDS to MMMMMAYBE BOYFRIENDS? Now the year is 1987 and this absolute BANGER by Rick Astley comes out on the radio.

You cannot tell me Steve Harrington isn't ready to belt his whole heart of 'Never Gonna Give You Up' to a completely stunned, slightly embarrassed but still in awe, Eddie Munson.

[punkslovepoints]

"So, are we gonna talk about it?"

"About what?"

It was the next day, and Robin hadn't mentioned anything the entire morning, not when Steve woke up beside her resolutely not mentioning the evening before, not when Eddie had failed to materialize at breakfast, not when they stopped off at Walmart to pick up picnic food and not any time during the drive to the roadside diner just outside Memphis city limits, where they had ordered a pot of coffee to share.

"About Eddie."

He groaned, his face buried in his hands.

Robin sat opposite him, sipping her coffee and watching him unravel.

“Like, I have to stop doing this right? It’s self-flagellation at this point. I’m literally setting myself up for disappointment every time.”

“It does seem a little weighted in his favor.”

Steve hummed.

“At least you’re both on the same page,” she offered. “You’re friends who have sex sometimes. Which still feels totally weird to me, but it seemed to be working. What changed?”

"I'm not sure we're even friends any more."

"Hmm?"

"He stopped calling a year ago."

"He did?" Robin didn't sound that surprised, like she'd already figured that out.

I dunno.” He shrugged. “It just can’t go on like this, right? At some point one of us is going to get hurt. I don’t want it to be him. I don’t want it to be me.”

“Do you want to stop."

“No.” He crossed his arms and leaned back into his seat, his body hunched over a little.

Robin sighed, “You know Einstein said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results.”

“I don’t know if I am expecting different results."

“You’re Sisyphus then.”

“Who?”

“He was doomed to push the same rock up a mountain forever. When it reached the top, it returned to the bottom and he started again.”

“That’s not entirely fair.”

“What is it then?”

Steve thought about it, shrugged, ”Dunno. Am I Sisyphus? Or am I the rock?”

“I don’t think it’s that kind of analogy.”

“What kind of analogy is it then?”

“I don’t know Steve. What do you actually want from him? Maybe that would help you work it out.

Steve put his head in his hands, his elbows propped on the table and moaned. "I don't know! I want it to be less complicated. I want us to be in the same place at the same time for more than a few days. Maybe then we could work out what we are to each other."

Robin hummed in thought, "Maybe it's reached a natural conclusion. Unless some miracle happens, you're not gonna get what you want. So yeah, maybe you do stop doing it."

He rubbed his hands over his face, sat back heavily into the booth. "I don't want to stop," he sulked.

She leaned forward, "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I can't help you." She punctuated each word. "You have two options and you don't like either of them."

He sighed, "Guess I'm stuck being Syphilis then."

"Sisyphus."

"That's what I said."

>> Read the rest of the fic on AO3 <<

(based on Lucy Dacus' Hot & Heavy)

[roleplayfinder]

Wanna get back into rp so I'm f 20+ looking for 18+ partners to rp Steve/Eddie from Stranger Things.

I prefer to do Eddie but I'm okay to play Steve too if needed.

I'm not picky so semi-lit to full on paragraphs are okay to me, I usually adapt to the style of the person I'm rping with. Nsfw is on the table but not the main thing I'm looking for. Interested like this post or add me on discord:

marcipher3

marcipher3

[mayalaen]

Ugh I can't get this out of my head.

An everybody lives AU(ish) where Eddie has left Hawkins to be a famous musician and Steve, disappointed by his life choices and wanting more and wondering about what might have been if he just worked up the courage to ask, leaves Hawkins to find Eddie.

He's so fucking confused by the world outside Hawkins. Like almost Tarzan-in-Manhattan-level confused. He's lost and bewildered but he can't give up and go back now.

Especially when he sees a big billboard announcing the tour dates for Corroded Coffin and Eddie looks even better than Steve remembered.

Steve can't get into the venue because everything was so expensive that he's blown all his cash just getting there.

He goes around to the back before the concert, hoping Eddie's there getting ready, but it's just roadies. He asks a few if Eddie's around, but they assume he's a fanboy and tell him to leave.

As he's walking away, he hears a familiar voice. Eddie's thrilled to see him. He hugs him so hard Steve can barely breathe.

Steve closes his eyes and holds Eddie not only because he missed him so fucking badly, but the world outside Hawkins has freaked him the fuck out and he doesn't know what's going on.

Eddie invites him back to his bus, and Steve doesn't think twice about it. Nobody else is on the bus. Eddie Gives him a bottled water.

Before Steve can even ask, Eddie tells him it's okay. That Eddie had been through it all -- the overwhelming shock of stepping out of Hawkins and into a world that seemed to have left them behind.

Hawkins never moved beyond the 1980s, and Eddie thinks it has something to do with the Upside Down or the lab, but he's never been able to explain why it's 2023 for the rest of the world and Hawkins still doesn't have cell phones or flat screen TVs and for Eddie and Steve three years ago was 1986.

He's felt like an outside even though he's learned to live with it, and seeing Steve again has felt like going home.

They just talk and reminisce, and Steve feels like everything might be okay.

Eddie lets him come backstage for the concert, and Steve can't believe how fucking hot Eddie is when he's on stage, doing what he loves.

They fall asleep on the bus after eating messy burgers and drinking too much soda.

Steve wakes with the sunrise feeling more content than he has over the last couple years. Eddie's next to him, watching him sleep. He smiles and says good morning, and Steve thinks his heart is going to explode.

Their first kiss is moments later.

Hours later when it's time to get on the road, they're still in the back, sweaty and too tired to get it up anymore, and the rest of the band members are sick of waiting, so they just pack everything up, yell at Eddie to take a fucking shower dude it stinks in here seriously?! and then they're on the road.

Steve doesn't regret it. The world is so much different than he could've imagined, but it doesn't matter because he has Eddie.

There's a Stephen King-ish feeling that washes over me when I think of the Stranger Things 'verse actually being set in modern day but this stupid little town is stuck in the 80s for some reason and everybody just lets them be.

Like people pass through and there's no cell service and when the dude in the brand new Tesla asks where he can charge his car and why are there no bars in this town the residents are like

"but... we have... a bar? right there. go ahead and get a drink they've got great sandwiches too"

Somebody asks Eddie if he's into grunge or nu metal and he's like dirt doesn't bother me but like I'm not INTO it and sure I like a dude with piercings.

The lack of kid car seats freaks out EVERYBODY.

Billy gets into an argument with some random woman over smoking inside public places because wtf that's not a law!

Hop's having trouble finding replacements for the crank mechanisms on his truck windows and somebody's like have you checked eBay? And he just stares at them like they've grown another head.

Everybody in the surrounding towns like yeah just let them be they're not hurting anybody.

That's why the lab is in the town. Not because they're interested in the giant gaping hole between our world and the Upside Down but because wtf is wrong why are all these people under this mass delusion

yeahyeah mindflayers are so last year get over it and tell me why these people think nothing new has been invented since 1986.

[stllts]

F.N.T (Fascinating New Thing) - A Steddie Fanfic

Inspired by '10 things I Hate About You'- with some twists.

Fandom: Stranger Things(2016)

Main Pairings: StevexEddie(Steddie), RobinxChrissy(Buckingham)

Rated: Mature

Word Count: +16k

Chapter Count: 1 out of 9

Summary: When the finale of a huge campaign gets in the way of The Party's plan to go to the WinterBall before the Holidays season, the kids decide to take matters into their own hands. And what better way to make sure that their D&D master changes plans, than to make Steve Harrington be Eddie Munson's own personal wingman and find him a date to the ball? The only problem is, that first Steve needs to befriend a guy who he is not only hella jealous of (not that he will ever admit that), but who also hates his guts. 

Or.: Just another Steddie fanfic retelling of the 1999’s rom/com classic, ‘10 Things I Hate About You’.

───────────────────────────────────────────────

...

Steve observed the trio for a moment before looking back at Robin who, bless her heart- she had also heard everything and, by the look in her face and the nervously biting of her thumb nail, was probably as confused about the ‘plan’ as he was-, took a step forward to ask: "So let me get this straight, in summary, you want Steve to seduce your Dungeon Master, which is a very weird name for a position in a nerd's game by the way, so you guys can go to the WinterBall with your girlfriends?" 

She received a resonant ‘yep' from the Sinclair and Henderson duo, as Steve decided to ignore the fact that Wheeler seemed to grimace a little at the end of her question, looking away from them and muttering something intelligible under his breath. It was probably best to leave it alone right now, make it a discussion for another time in the future. 

"Well, not exactly to seduce him, more like…" Dustin corrected, flapping his hand and trailing off a bit while looking for the right word to replace the term with. "Befriend him, maybe?"

Steve couldn’t contain the loud 'ha' that his body pushed out of him, making him lean forward a bit exasperated. "And what in the world makes you think that Eddie Munson of all people would want to be friends with me?"

...

Keep reading it on AO3 now

(for more information read chapter notes)

[sharkie-writes0]

Eddie that sleeps with stuffed animals

When he gets into a relationship or even just makes friends he tends to hide his plush friends. For fear that he will be judged. when he started dating Steve, he tried his best to hide his room but Steve likes to surprise him.

One night Eddie was on his bed, writing ideas for his next campaign, when he heard a knock on his window. He shoots his head up to see Steve waving at him through the glass. Eddie’s face turns horrified and goes to shut the curtains before Steve can see the stuffed penguin he’s holding.

Eddie quickly covers all his plushies with a blanket and opens the curtains again, sheepishly smiling at a very confused Steve.

“Sorry love” Eddie says, opening the window “had to…had to clean up a little”

Steve looks softly at Eddie, a shine in his eyes that says he knows about Eddie’s secret. He goes and gently pulls the blanket off the plushies and smiles sweetly. He picks up the aforementioned penguin plush and squishes the belly

“What’s his name?” Steve says, holding the penguin out for Eddie to take

“Oh…uh his name is sir willington” Eddie says shyly, taking the stuffed animal and looking down in embarrassment.

Steve’s hand moves up to Eddie’s face, caressing and cradling his cheek. As Eddie leans into the touch Steve sighs…

“You don’t gotta hide this from me baby, I think it’s sweet. Why don’t you show me your little friends” Steve says to a wide eyed Eddie

Eddie smiles and begins rambling about his companions while Steve smiles and nods along, listening to the backstories and the roles of each plushie

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This isn’t the best because I’m tired but here’s a gift.

[emchant3d]

They say Captain Munson has a gift. That he’s blessed by a god’s touch.

His ship has survived every battle. His crew flourishes with bounty, with health and good fortune. He steers them unerringly through every storm, sailing directly into the gargantuan waves, into the lightning and rain, and comes out the other side pristine while other vessels would have been sunk, snapped and splintered on the ocean floor, crew turned to ghosts to haunt the waters.

They say he made a deal, sold his soul, sold his crew’s souls, will find his reckoning one day at the end of a sword or drowned in the sea he loves so much. They say he’s a devil of his own, that his eyes glow red and black and his teeth are sharp and fanged, nails clawed, that he slaughters innocents and bathes in their blood.

But the truth is much simpler. Captain Munson is no devil, he did not sell any souls, and he certainly isn’t blessed by any god.

Captain Munson fell in love.

He didn’t mean to. When the fishing nets are reeled in that fateful day he expects nothing more than a few meals, a couple pounds to send to the kitchens for Benny to work his magic with. He isn’t even on deck when the catch is brought in.

It’s Gareth’s frantic voice that draws him upwards, his shouting and knocking on his cabin door that has him strapping a sword to his hip before taking the stairs two at a time to see the threat.

He’s expecting a King’s ship. Maybe another pirate. 

He isn’t expecting a mer.

Pale, unconscious, bleeding, sprawled on the deck, plush and soft and gorgeous, tan torso tapering down into a huge, shimmering tail. He’s breathing but it’s shallow, weak, a shell on a necklace moving faintly with each hitch of his chest.

And the crown. A simple circlet, golden and shining, tangled in his chestnut hair, gems glinting from the locks.

Mers are mythical, believed to be stories by some and history by others, but Eddie grew up hearing the tales of them every night from his mother, and the evidence is right in front of them - how can they do anything but believe?

It takes three of them to move him below deck. Eddie grips him under his arms, Gareth supports his hips, and Jeff wrangles his tail. They take him to Eddie’s quarters, the only bed big enough to fit him.

He wakes in stages, delirious from pain, snapping teeth and swinging claws when he has the strength for it and slurring rambling words when he doesn’t, head lolling on the pillow, eyes rolling back. 

His injuries are strange - a band of dark bruising around his pretty throat, his back shredded, bites taken out of the dips of his sides and the meat of his tail. There’s sickness in him, but Joyce is patient. She patches him up, soothes the mer’s fever and stitches the wounds she can, bandages what she can’t, keeps it all clean, keeps it wet because apparently that’s what he needs - salt water, which makes Eddie cringe in sympathy, but only seems to ease the mer’s pain, not make it worse.

It’s a week before those pretty eyes blink open with genuine awareness in them, sharp and wary. Eddie’s taken to sitting at the mer’s side, feels a strange responsibility to him that he doesn’t want to look too closely at, and he glances up from his journal to find the other’s gaze locked on him.

“Where am I?” he croaks out, and Eddie smiles, snapping the journal shut.

“You’re aboard the Hellfire, sweetheart. Captain Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows in his seat, and it goes over about as well as he thought it would.

There’s a lot of threats and snarling and cursing, but Eddie simply leans back, out of the mer’s reach as he crowds himself into the corner of the mattress, back pressed to the wall and sheets tangled around his tail.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tries to soothe, and the mer scoffs. Eddie can’t blame him for his caution, but he tells him the honest truth - where he was found, the state of him, how they’ve nursed him back to health.

The mer’s hand hovers over one of the nastier wounds at his side, covered in gauze, dampened with saltwater. When he cuts his eyes back to Eddie there’s a little less animosity in his gaze, and Eddie will take what he can get.

Eventually he pulls a name from that snarling mouth. Stephan. “Prince Stephan,” he begrudgingly admits once Eddie points out the crown that he’d gently worked free of his hair. 

And he’s a mer, but different.

“Siren, is what I believe your kind calls mine,” Stephan says, “half and half. Mer and human.” 

“Human,” Eddie muses, and Stephan confesses, warily, haltingly - he’s the King’s bastard son. Born to King Richard of the land and the Mer Queen of the sea.

“And how did the Prince of the Mer find his way into my net, hm?” Eddie asks, smiling, and Stephan rolls his eyes at him. 

He’s a runaway. King Richard had come looking for his son and with his mother’s blessing Stephan abandoned his title, his home, because the King would find him eventually if he stayed, and whatever dangers he might face in the open sea would be nothing compared to what the King might use his gifts for.

“Gifts?” Eddie asks, and Stephan smiles, his pointed teeth glinting.

It’s a clear day, not a cloud to be seen, no sign of rain or bad weather. And yet as Steve begins to hum softly, a shadow crosses overhead. 

It happens slowly. Stephan’s voice builds, a wordless little melody, something melancholy and soft, and the sky beyond the windows of the cabin darkens. Thunder rolls and in the distance, Eddie can see a crack of lightning.

The ship rocks as waves begin to form, the once-smooth water taking a turn. Eddie can hear the crew above deck begin to shout to one another, confusion building, growing more insistent as Stephan’s song grows, and Eddie’s stomach drops.

The siren’s voice is haunting, terrifying. Eddie’s frozen in place, meeting his eyes even as tears well in his own. He’s transfixed, can’t move, can’t speak, paralyzed with some ancient, instinctual knowing of danger, of death.

Eddie does not scare easy. But this is terror personified. This is the true threat that lives in the sea. Not the waves, not man, this. This creature who smiles at him with sharp teeth and a haunting voice, reaching towards Eddie with a clawed hand, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear in a touch that makes Eddie’s skin crawl and his heart skip and dread sink into his very bones.

He’s staring death in the face, and death is smiling.

Then Stephan quiets, and it’s over as quickly as it had begun. The sky clears in moments. The waters calm. The vessel’s heaving calms, and Eddie’s spine unlocks.

He stares at the being before him, amazed, before a slow, brilliant smile breaks over his face.

“Full of surprises, aren’t you, Prince Stephan?” he asks, and gets a smile in return.

“Call me Steve,” he tells him, and fondness begins to worm its way into Eddie’s chest.

“Then call me Eddie.” He sees Steve’s eyes flutter, and he tilts his head. “You’re tired,” he tells him, and gets a huff in response. “You’re safe here, Steve,” he tells him, and he knows he doesn’t trust him, not fully, not yet, but that’s okay. “Rest. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Steve watches him warily, but clearly the little display has worn him out. His hand finds that same wound on his side, cradling it carefully, back shifting like it hurts to sit up straight and stretch all that marred skin.

“Lay a hand on me, and I’ll eat you,” Steve warns, and Eddie snorts a laugh. 

“Whatever you say, highness,” and he tugs the sheets back into place over that large tail, and lets the mer get the rest he still clearly needs.

part 2 💕

[joseph-munson]

Eddie : How many children do you have?

Steve: Biologically, legally, or emotionally? Because there is a difference.