#sweet strangers

[munsons-mutiny]

One of my favorite trope for Steddie is Steve hunting down Eddie when the kids join Hellfire and giving him a long list of dos and donts.

At first Eddie thinks he’s just being a prick, and worried he’s going to turn the nerds into freaks like him. Especially when he says not to mention drugs in front of Dustin.

But then he starts pulling out lists of monsters that can’t be in campaigns. And like what??? Why can’t he use demagorgons? They were gonna be in the next combat! He’s tempted to ignore the warnings, in fact he’s all set to, but something about Steve’s face when he was laying it all out haunts him. Something so deadly serious about it. So first he decides to test the waters to see if he’s full of shit.

When the session starts, he makes a throwaway comment, “you’re acting like there’s a mindflayer around the corner.”

All the kids freeze but Wheeler especially looks like he’s going to be sick. He even grabs at the bracelet around his wrist. The one he always said his best friend made him before he moved.

Eddie curses himself for even trying to test it out after that, and immediately bullshits the whole session so he can scrap any hint of demogorgans from the campaign.

After that session he drives straight to Harringtons house and demands they go over all the things he can’t include again, in detail, while he takes notes.

He doesn’t know what’s going on with these freshmen, but he knows trauma when he sees it and well he’d gotten attached to the gremlins.

When he leaves that night, he thinks Steve is looking at him with approval. Like he trusts him with their well-being now.

[vmkhoneyy]

I think if I could be the kind stranger in someone’s memory, that’d be enough.

[lazylittledragon]

mombin™ has me in a CHOKEHOLD right now

[eddiethebrave]

ocean of flavor

334 words

Steve’s bent over the counter that separates the front of the store from the back when he hears a low whistle come from behind him. 

“God bless Corporate America for those shorts and God bless you for that ass.”

Steve feels his face heat up and heart rate quicken. He straightens his posture before turning around only to come face to face with Eddie Munson. He should’ve known - he can’t think of anyone else bold enough to say that, especially as an opening to a conversation, and especially to a retail worker. 

Steve lets his gaze trail over what’s visible of the man from the other side of the counter. He’s dressed much the same as he usually is at school, except instead of layers upon layers of dark clothing, he’s wearing a faded black band tee that has the arms cut so low that you can see the waistline of his black jeans through them. 

Steve’s mouth waters and he doesn’t try to hide his ogling - god knows Eddie didn’t. 

Their little game had confused everyone in high school, but Steve couldn’t help himself. He’d flirt relentlessly with Eddie - maybe even more than he did with anyone else - and eventually the boy began to reciprocate. 

After weeks of striking out, Steve was kind of flustered by the attention. He was even wearing the hat, for Christ’s sake. 

Steve bites his lip to stop a goofy grin from taking over. 

“Ahoy,” he says, licking his lips and watching Eddie’s eyes flicker down to track the movement. “Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me?” He tilts his head and leans forward so his forearms are resting on the counter. It’s kind of sticky but worth it to see Eddie’s face flush when he looks up at him through his lashes. “I'll be your captain.”

Eddie seems to shake himself out of it then. “They don’t really make you say that, do they?”

“They do,” he confirms with a pout.

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Aang, you're really in it now...

This is Zu—I mean, Jian Li and Katara's second meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU. The first proper one, anyway.

Once they get through a minor difference of opinion or two (“I can carry my own basket!” “Never said you—” “I'm not weak!” “I didn't—” “Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean—” “Would you listen for once, woman?!” ) they'll become nearly inseparable.

For now Jian Li will carry Katara's basket all the way to the Kyoshi Warriors' dojo and, once there, they'll mercilessly tease Sokka when they see him in uniform.

[grey-sides]

On a Monday morning, Steve's dad frowns at his paper and throws Steve a sidelong glance. On the entertainment page is a black and white photo of Bruce Springsteen kissing Clarence Clemons.

Steve swallows his toast and shifts in his seat. But his father doesn't say a thing and Steve doesn't know where to begin. He's not asked to get rid of his Springsteen tapes. But he does find the paper later, tossed on the pile to go in the trash and clips out the picture.

It's not the first time he's seen this exact scenario with Bruce Springsteen. But it is the first time in a long time he's been interested in doing it himself.

He tucks the paper clipping away in a book under his bed. And he thinks about the cash he has saved up and how much longer Robin has to be in school for.

On a Friday evening, he fixes his hair and kisses his mom's cheek on his way out the door. The newspaper clipping under his bed is delicately frayed already, the thin paper worn thinner by his eager fingers.

He picks Robin up, waves to her mom and drives them just outside of town. Eddie's van is already there, quiet and dark because he and his band are already inside.

On a Friday night, Steve tucks into a beer and looks up at the stage. He smiles despite himself and thinks of Bruce and Clarence when Eddie and Jeff lean into the microphone together.

His palms sweat and he presses them to his bottle. The edges of the label are peeling like the newspaper clipping. He taps his toe to the music and smiles wider when a woman takes Robin by the hand to show her how to rock out.

On an early Saturday morning, so early Steve would call it late, he helps Eddie put the instruments away in the back of the van. He watches as Eddie stacks each piece carefully and curses when a cymbal crashes against an amp.

And he thinks about his newspaper and the judgement in his dad's eyes. He twirls his keyring around his finger and thinks of another life where he kept up with his piano lessons instead of baseball.

On an early Saturday morning, Steve closes the van doors just enough to block people from seeing them and he pulls Eddie close. And he wonders what it would be like to do on a stage.

And Eddie is not Clarence Clemons and he is not Bruce Springsteen. But his heart still races and his palms still sweat, and he knows he could bellow out of his lungs with joy if he was standing in front of a crowd.

And later still on that early Saturday morning, Steve feels the calluses of Eddie's guitar worn fingers on his cheek. And he listens to his halfway to hoarse voice tell a story. And he tastes cheap beer and song lyrics on his lips. And he thinks next Saturday, he might join Robin dancing in the dark of the bar.

[cheruib]

why is it SO incredibly sweet when a stranger smiles at u like. i don’t know you but here’s a piece of happiness in this crazy world. im giving u this smile because it’s all i have to offer, and i want to offer you something. you’ll forget my face, probably, but you’ll remember this, at least for the rest of the day, or the afternoon, or your lunch break. hope you had a good day. Hope the rest of it is better.

[steddieas-shegoes]

“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

[blighted-lights]

ravage is #1 personal space stealer and heater, 10/10 would recommend having him as an amica. usually he'd be sleeping curled around soundwave's head but the other cassettes are out harassing starscream on patrol, so soundwave's chest is free real estate

anyways send me asks with ur soundwave and ravage hcs and mayhaps i'll draw them soon

[schnuckiputz]

something something about rockstar eddie on tour telling everyone left and right about his sweetheart, his stevie, the light of his life, his sweet lil baby. getting more and more excited about when he's going to see his sweetheart at a concert soon.

the roadies and techs are kinda excited about it - placing bets on what kind of girl could have big bad rockstar eddie munson this starry eyed. with the way eddie is going on they are absolutely convinced that she's some tiny little slip of a girl that wears pastel pink everywhere and has never ever done anything bad in her life.

the big day arrives, everyone is excited to meet eddie's lil princess...but instead "sweet little babygirl stevie" is some big jock dude in a polo shirt and lightwash jeans who carries around equipment like it weighs nothing and who swears like a sailor when someone nearly drops an amp on his foot.

[fluffyfangirl]

based on that one video from the stranger things experience

[jkriordanverse]

"Found family❤️❤️❤️" and it's the most traumatised group of people you've ever seen.(i love this trope sm)

[solarmorrigan]

Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

-

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

[gayofthefae]

Will Byers is flirty and he's a smug son of a bitch about it too. Don't let anyone tell you different. Because what the fuck is this.

Look at his smug little smile. He knows what he did.

[steddiehyperfixation]

still into you (steddie ficlet)

Eddie wakes to the mouthwatering smell of bacon and eggs and fresh-made pancakes. He stretches lazily and heads to the kitchen to find Steve at the stove making breakfast, moving expertly between flipping pancakes and scrambling eggs and checking the bacon. A stupid kiss the cook apron is tied at the waist over his bare torso and sinful pajama shorts, and he looks just as delicious as the food he's cooking. The whole scene makes something warm and fluttery bloom bright in Eddie's chest. 

He sits at the counter and sighs dreamily, resting his chin in his hand as he watches him. “God, I have such a crush on you.” 

Steve looks over his shoulder with an amused expression that crinkles the smile lines at the corners of his eyes. “We're literally married.” 

“I know,” Eddie gushes, so in awe of this fact you'd think it was a new development even though it very much isn't. He marvels at his husband of 34 years, admires every inch of Steve's middle-aged body, every place where his time-worn skin is creased with signs of age and a life well lived and well loved. The beauty of him still knocks the wind out of Eddie, a breathless giggle bubbling up his throat. “But that doesn't mean I don't still have a massive fucking crush on you.” 

Steve huffs out a chuckle before turning his attention back to the stove, a quick duck of his head as if to hide a blush. 

Emboldened, Eddie stands and comes up to wrap his arms around him from behind. He nuzzles into Steve's neck, breathes in his salt and pepper hair and smiles into the curve of his shoulder. “I’m serious. Even after all this time, you still give me butterflies,” Eddie says, resting his hands over Steve's stomach and pressing gently to demonstrate his words, “right here, like I’m a teenager again. My aged heart still does very youthful backflips just at the sight of you, and I feel that rush of falling in love all over again, again and again, like it's the very first time.”

Eddie remembers a conversation he'd had with his uncle once, when he was much much younger and Wayne was about the age Eddie is now.  When you get older, you don't feel that type a’ love the same way anymore, Wayne had told him. It ain't the same heart-pounding, all-encompassing, get drunk off of it sort a’ giddy head-rush you get in your teens and twenties. It loses that kind a’ thrill, gets quieter. 

Eddie had found that thoroughly depressing, despite his uncle’s insistences that this was not a bad thing. Don't mean that love and attraction ain't there or that you can't feel it anymore, Wayne reassured him, it's just different is all. He'd shrugged then, his face like leather, worn and fond and bemused by his nephew’s wild youth. Old hearts get tired, Ed, he'd said. You'll get it when you get to be my age. 

Well, Eddie has gotten to be his age and he still doesn't get it. He does feel that quieter love, the kind that comes from shared routines and easy conversation and even easier silences, made up of trust and familiarity, the kind that settles into his bones like it was always meant to be there. But the thrill is still there too, as strong as ever. Steve still makes his heart race and his head spin. Eddie's stomach still flutters at his smile; his touch still sets off fireworks beneath his skin. Even now, Eddie feels a little dizzy just holding him, heartbeat faster. 

“We may get old,” Eddie continues his declaration, “but the way I feel about you never will.” He holds Steve tighter, hooking his chin over his husband's shoulder after pressing a kiss to it. “I will never get over the thrill of you, and my heart will never get tired of it.” 

“You are a dramatic old sap,” Steve says through a suppressed smile, rolling his eyes as he plates the food and turns off the stove, but then he's turning around in Eddie's arms and pulling him into a spirited kiss.

Eddie's blood feels like it's made of champagne, bubbly and fizzy and utterly intoxicated as Steve fills his senses. They kiss with the same clumsy passion they'd had at 21, too eager clashes of teeth and bruising lips. It's messy, inelegant, perfect, broken within seconds when their smiles become uncontainable. They pull apart, pink-cheeked and laughing. 

Steve grins. His eyes shine with all the same giddiness of infatuation and warmth of love as he holds Eddie's face in his hands and tells him, “I have a massive fucking crush on you too.” 

[hopefulsapphic]

i'm an early seasons steve harrington apologist. sorry. he was not a bad person he was not a bad boyfriend he was literally just 17