#teacher steve harrington

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking about married teacher steve and rockstar eddie.

steve’s students like to poke fun at him for “not being cool” or “trying to be cool”, and steve just feeds into it and plays up his cluelessness to modern things and what’s “hip” nowadays. he always just tells them they have no idea, and they’re gonna eat their words one day when they see how cool he really is, but all the kids just laugh and think he’s being sarcastic.

one day a group in his class is talking about the popular rock music star eddie munson, about his music and how much they love him, and steve joins in, asking them about eddie and what kind of music he makes and so on. he says something like “oh yeah, i think i know munson. yeah he’s cool, makes good stuff” and the kids are like “as if you know eddie munson, mr h, there is no way”. steve just chuckles and says “if you say so”

meanwhile eddie EATS EACH STORY UP when steve comes home with a something new to tell him all about what his kids were saying to him today

honourable mention but eddie also is WEAK for steve’s teacher outfits, the button ups, the vests, when he wears a tie WITH his glasses consider eddie a dead man.

on the last day of class for the year steve has given his class almost a free period of sorts to just chat and muck about being that it’s so close to vacation and all, and ofc the topic of steve’s uncoolness comes up again, and he’s just all laughs and smiles not even trying to fight back while they poke harmless fun at him, just looking smug as shit knowing these kids are in for a treat.

the bell goes and they all start to pack up their things to leave, and steve calls out to get their attention, remember the homework, stay safe, have a good break and all that, but THEN who else walks through the classroom door but eddie. munson. heading straight towards steve telling him “hey babe, ready to go?”

“yep, just let me grab my stuff” steve says back, and the class is stunned silent. eddie walks over to steve’s desk and puts a hand on his back as steve is leaning over it putting books and pages into his bag, “you guys are all free to go” he looks up to the class, smug as ever.

as he and eddie head towards the door, steve stops and turns around back to his class one last time, whisper shouting over his shoulder “who’s cool now?”

eddie is laughing infront of him as they walk out together, listening to the classroom they’d just left erupt into chaos.

[hairmetal666]

Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

--

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

--

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

--

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

--

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."

[forestmossling]

reporter @ an accomplished rockstar!eddie’s boyfriend, steve harrington, a middle-school teacher in a dorky sweater vest: how does it feel dating somebody who’s waaay out of your league?

eddie, pushing himself in front of the camera: amazing, i never thought i’d be this happy

inspired by @singswan-springswan’s meme

[ladykailitha]

The Rockstar and the Teacher

Just thinking about a rockstar Eddie and a school teacher Steve who have been together for a decade, but Steve is kept out of the limelight by his choice.

He doesn't want to have his kids harassed because of who he's dating. Plus the whole gay man= pedophile in the minds of most parents.

Things are going great until they aren't.

Steve sees a tabloid with the headline "Eddie Munson photographed outside local bar with boyfriend, hints there may be a spring wedding!" and he's furious. Like seeing red, pissed off.

Because the guy next to Eddie is not Steve.

Whoever he is, he's dressed the same as Eddie. Leather jacket, long hair, chains everywhere.

But he barely has time to get worked up because even though Eddie had been in LA working on the band's next album, he is bursting through their house in Hawkins's door.

Eddie skids to a stop when he sees the tabloid on their kitchen counter and holds up his hands.

"I'm sorry, baby," he mutters and Steve chokes back tears, "I was trying to get home before you saw that."

"Why would you do that to me?" Steve cries.

Eddie slowly pulls out his phone like he's getting it out for a cop and hands it over to Steve, who takes it with a frown.

"It's not me, sweetheart," Eddie says. "I can prove it."

Steve looks at the phone and it instantly opens to Steve's face.

Eddie can see the hope spark in Steve's eyes as he looks through Eddie's phone.

Text message after text message about Eddie planning on getting Steve a necklace with both of their initials on it from Steve's favorite jewelry designer.

Eddie's phone pinging him at a nearby bar, but not the one the photo is showing him coming out of at the time it was taken.

Then the final evidence. A fan photo of Eddie and the girl taking a picture just outside of it the other bar at the time other Eddie was supposedly getting his picture taken with his "boyfriend".

"My management and PR team are on it, Stevie," Eddie tells him. "We think it was a setup from the jewelry guy. He lured me to the bar so that they could stage the pap photo."

Steve frowns at the phone in his hand, his fingers gripping it so tightly that his knuckles go white.

"Why?"

Eddie runs his hands over his face. "Honestly?" Steve nods. "To get you to come out in the public eye."

Steve looks at the phone and then back at the paper on the counter. Eddie can see his heart sink.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs. "I've been selfish. If I had just gone to LA with you been your partner all of the time, this wouldn't have happened."

Eddie takes Steve's face in his hands. "You are my partner all of the time. Even when we're apart. You weren't being selfish. You had just gotten your degree when we made it big. You wanted to use what you had paid for, and rightly so. This is on them, not you. Never you!"

Steve lets out a shuddered breath and then nods. "Okay."

He lets out another breath and Eddie smiles as Steve straightens his shoulders and cracks his knuckles.

"Give me two hours and I'll have this sorted."

Eddie doesn't doubt it.

****

Two hours later, Steve comes out in a beautiful cream suit and silver mesh top.

Eddie looks up from his place on the sofa and licks his lips slowly. He had been messaging Chrissy, his manager while Steve was doing whatever it was in his office.

"Wow, baby you look good enough to eat."

Steve grins. "It's a good thing you're hungry because we're going out to dinner."

Eddie stands up quickly and puts a hand on Steve's waist. "Are you sure you want to do this? We don't have to. We're already suing everyone for defamation of character and libel."

Steve grinned. "Oh yeah. I've already spoken to Robin and Chrissy and they're onboard."

"K, baby."

****

They arrive at the restaurant and they sit in Eddie's little two seater.

"Last chance, Stevie," Eddie said, looking out at the waiting reporters. "Just say the word and we'll go somewhere more secluded."

Steve shakes his head. "Let's do this."

Eddie gives his hand a squeeze and gets out first.

"Eddie! Eddie!" one reporter calls out. "What do you have to say about that picture in The Sun?"

"That's not me," he says calmly. "That's not my boyfriend. I would never cheat on him that way."

Then a burst of questions asking about his real boyfriend as he moves around the car to open the other door.

Steve steps out looking like sex on legs. But also like nothing anyone pegged as Eddie's boyfriend.

Eddie kisses his hand and Steve blushes.

Suddenly all the questions are directed at Steve, asking if he's the boyfriend? How long have they been dating? What's his name?

Steve just bats his eyelashes and says quite clearly, "I would ask you to respect our privacy during this trying time."

BOOM!

Mic drop.

The reporters clam up, the cameras stop flashing as they stare at him in open mouthed shock.

Eddie swoops in and gives Steve the biggest kiss. And the only reason it was even caught on camera was because the video camera hadn't stopped rolling.

They go inside and Steve gets two messages on his phone and Eddie asks if he's going to look at them, but he shakes his head.

"It's probably just Robin wanting all the inside scoop."

So they finish their meal and walk back out to the valet, hand in hand. It's then when Steve pulls out his phone. He was right about the first message, the second one was from a private number and merely said:

-Ben fatto, mio caro*

Steve smiles and kisses the the screen before tucking his phone back in his pocket.

As they drive home, Eddie asks about the texts.

"Just my mom telling me she was proud of me in the only way she could."

Mrs. Sophia Harrington was too conceited to send him anything directly, especially since Clint Harrington had cut Steve off years ago due to him being gay. But she could send a single message from a private number that she would never use again, to let her son know that she was proud at how well he had handled the reporters.

Eddie just smiles and they drive home in comfortable silence.

****

Steve goes to work the next morning and stops in at the principal's office. He smiles when he realizes the press hasn't figured out who he is yet. But it will only be a matter of time and he knows it.

The principal holds up a printed copy of his resignation and demands to know the meaning of it.

So Steve tells him.

"Steve..." the principal whines when he's done.

"You know you're going to have parents banging down your door the second it gets out," Steve explains. "It's easier for me to just walk away now and not wait for you to have to fire me."

The principal sighs but agrees. "You'll be missed."

Steve nods and stands up. At least he'll have time to say goodbye to his kids.

By lunch time it's gotten around the school that he's leaving but not why.

Steve had sworn his kids to secrecy so everyone could say goodbye, but a couple of his students come and hang out with him at lunch to talk about it.

"I knew you had to someone cool," the one kid says. "You knew too much about Corroded Coffin to be lame ole Mr. Harrington."

Yeah, Steve isn't going to miss that one kid.

He makes it through the school day and some of the parents have setup an impromptu farewell party on the front lawn of the school.

It's a tearful goodbye, but Steve feels lighter as he makes his way to car with all his things, then he has in years.

****

The news breaks on who he is later that night and Steve doesn't envy the principal's headache tomorrow, but cuddled up with Robin and Eddie on his sofa, he really can't find it in himself to give a fuck.

They'll later go on the Tonight Show and talk about how Steve had been in the closet for years and how he was forced out by this stunt with the photo. He talks about how other celebrities had been forced out too and that apparently it's not just for famous people.

That because he was with a famous person that meant he had no rights either and how that has to start changing.

He's happy he's out now, but it should have been on his own terms and not the media's.

There ends up being a spring wedding, but just the following year as Eddie and Steve tie the knot, two beautiful rings on their hands and a dazzling necklace at Steve's throat with their new initials on it EM and SM.

There is a mysterious gift of two tickets to a private villa in Italy after their honeymoon that has them both grinning like fools.

****

Here's a little gay Italian Steve for you.

*Well done, my dear

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

[hitlikehammers]

take the call

rating: t ♥️ cw: off-screen car accident (but EVERYTHING IS FINE), hurt/comfort, softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, married steddie, hurt/comfort, rockstar Eddie/teacher Steve, Steve's heart of gold is very possibly going to be Eddie's undoing one of these days, well-worn-soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: Love is terrifying (@starryeyedjanai)

set in the 00s, with Steve and Eddie having two decades of loving under their belts, now ♥️

Eddie isn’t expecting a call, any call, really; he’s in the studio, like, if he gets a call someone takes a message or whatever.

And in fairness, Eddie doesn’t get the call.

He gets a message.

“Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth.

“Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.”

He’s not thoughtless at all about the way he clocks the tension in Jeff’s voice even across the speaker system; it’s entirely automatic how he freezes, how he looks up and locks eyes with his friend through the glass and sucks in a sharp breath for the look on his face: pained.

Maybe, maybe scared.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere near his knees, but beats there so fucking hard.

“This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but—

“She, um,” Jeff’s voice is filtering through again, and Eddie clocks that there’s…there’s something more to it, more than his brain’s willing to grasp just yet but his body’s apparently picked up on because he thinks the slightest breeze would knock him over and shatter him into pieces, for the tightness in his body; he’s not focused enough to count the separate beats of his pulse but he can tell it’s quick enough already, still weighed down near his feet, that counting would be kinda hard, would take effort:

“She found the phone at a car crash?”

So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew.

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

“Sounded kinda like, uh, like it could have been Steve’s phone,” Jeff is trying to tell him, and part of Eddie hears it, part of him does but most of him is white noise, is pins-and-needles, is underwater and drowning and not even fucking thinking of fighting the pull because he can’t, he’s heavy at the legs and his lungs are seizing and there’s, he’s—

“Because it, umm, she found the card because the case was broken?” and just last night Eddie’d watched Steve pop off the case and slide the cards behind with a laugh and a promise to take them with him not today—because it’s one of those federal holidays that only schools notice happening, like the post office is still open—but definitely tomorrow, never knew which of the kiddos at the Rich People School might be a budding metalhead underneath their uniforms—

“And she said the case was, um, like bright—“

Green.

Electric lime neon fuckin’ green because after three times of Eddie taking Steve’s phone by accident he’d come home with that endearing eyesore, and a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose and a soft hard to confuse that, babe nuzzled against him and—

“It could maybe have just been a coincide—“ Jeff’s talking but Eddie can’t fucking hear it, not really, not when he’s letting the door slam behind him and ripping off his headphones to drop to the groundnut when he’s gasping hard enough to crack a rib, not when the floor’s gone out from underneath him and his vision’s tunneled and nothing seems real, and everything feels too real, every world ending possibility shuddering through his foggy mind alongside every heartbreakingly perfect memory blossoming up unbidden just to serve as a reminder, an underscoring of what he stands to lose, what maybe he’s already fucking lost—

He meets Jeff’s eyes without the glass between them as he grabs his keys from his jacket on the couch and makes himself take the breath that’ll fuel the voice, that’ll give him words, just one word, he needs, he fucking needs—

“Where?”

_______________________

Eddie shouldn’t have driven himself, he knows that.

Like, on some other plane of existing, he’s sure he knows that.

But on this plane, he rips past his bandmates, all the extra people with them for recording, jams the close-door button before anyone can follow him into the elevator because he happens to know this one’s quicker than the stairs even on a good day, and this—

Eddie’s shaking so goddamn hard he can barely get one foot in front of the other, he really doesn’t think he can manage ten fucking flights of steps.

He burns rubber on the way out of the parking lot, and the nearest hospital to where Steve would have been—on his day off, because holiday, he’d have bene close to home, he mentioned food shopping, he thought he might make stir-fry but he wasn’t sure, they hadn’t made a vegetable haul from the Asian market downtown in a couple weeks and they need to, they need to but Steve wasn’t feeling like going on his own, because he might not say it out loud but they both know he enjoys Eddie’s excitability when new items hit the shelves and he can’t read the language they’re labelled in so he guesses frantically until the man who owns the place takes pity, only laughs a little and explains what this spice is for, or that that crazy looking thing’s a fruit, and they ultimately buy whatever it is because Eddie wants to try it now, because he got invested and—

Eddie should pull off the fucking road; his head’s a mess, he can’t see for the way his eyes are welling, streaming, the way he’s shaking with sobs that don’t exactly burst forth, just leak from his lashes as he trembles horrifically because…

Because they were maybe gonna have stir-fry, tonight. Even without the good vegetables.

They were—

Eddie thinks it’s fucking cruel, kind of unbearably so, that his brain’s dead-set on still processing the mundane little perfections of his life as if every single one of them might be dashed to pieces, might be hanging by a thread, might be entirely fucking gone, and he, he…

He can’t. He just, he fucking can’t.

Because that the thing, isn’t it: the scenarios he’s imagining aren’t hypothetical—they’re all memories, too. Steve bloodied, Steve bruised, Steve’s bones broken and flesh torn. Steve still, too still; Steve’s skin under Eddie’s hands when he can’t find a pulse because Eddie’s shaking, same as now how Eddie is fucking shaking—

Eddie knows all those things. They’re so long ago, now, so distant but his fucking cells will never forget every single moment he saw the man he loves bigger than his own goddamn life hurt like that; be risked like that. Be lost like—

And that’s the difference. That’s what is unravelling him as he speeds through the streets quicker than he should, probably breaking more laws than he could count and definitely more than he gives a shit to notice: it’s the losing.

Because the first times, even the times that came after Steve was his: they didn’t come with the loss of so much time, so much of themselves, so much glorious life that they’d built between them, the struggles and the triumphs, the hard choices and the easy things that weren’t choices at all: everything hand-in-hand, every night spent curled around each other, all of them, all of him, inside that chest since he was twenty fucking year old, and Eddie doesn’t just not know how to be outside of what he shares with Steve.

Eddie doesn’t think his own heart can survive, if if Steve’s isn’t next to him.

Eddie’s damn fucking sure no part of him would want to.

It takes him a minute to steady himself enough to get out of the car, once he finally reaches the ER. Steady his body, but more his fucking soul because the whole of him is shaking, is crying out, is wailing unfettered and breaking because he’s terrified, he is goddamn terrified of what he’s going to find when he walks in but he has to, he has to because whatever awaits him, that’s his husband, that is the love of his whole goddamn life and if the worst is going to come for him he’ll face it like he’s faced everything else: at Steve Harrington’s side.

If the worst comes for one of them, then it came for them both.

So he’s stumbling, shuddering, but resolute in his chest when he flies through the sliding doors, eyes still swimming, unfocused but he makes himself take a deep breath—it takes a few tries, and he doesn’t quite succeed, it’s still a tremorous thing and his lungs are still in revolt, but it’s something, and he’ll take something; he has to to take something—

“Eddie?”

He almost doesn’t register it, the voice from the sick-spiral of his memories, all the love on the table to be forfeit—

He almost doesn’t register that his name’s not coming from inside his head.

“Oh my god, what happened?” There’s a flurry over motion in front of him, and he blinks rapidly to try and pin it down because it looks familiar, it smells familiar, it aches familiar in his chest but:

“What is it, what’s wrong?” and fuck, it feels familiar when a hand reaches for his cheek where it’s still damp, tacky for the tears; when another hand slides itself into Eddie’s and draws him in, a hand that fits like no other hand in this world or any other, ever—

“Are you okay?”

And the hand on his cheek turns him and follows his eyes and it takes that long for him to clear his vision properly, but now he’s just blinking so much because that, that can’t be, even if it feels in every goddamn way like it really is, but it can’t…

It can’t be Steve here, whole and on his feet and looking at Eddie with so much worry, so much heart as he tilts Eddie’s chin a little this way, that way, squints to try and see…something.

Eddie’s breath tears out of him in a wet fucking gasp;

“Am I okay?”

Because Eddie’s really not the one to fucking worry about here, Steve had—

“You’re in a hospital, Eds, that’s not usually where you go when you’re okay,” Steve’s eyes widen as he he slides both hands now to Steve’s head, holding him still and assessing…something, maybe, Jesus: Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that the touch on him now makes his…makes his heart feel safe and he’d been fucking terrified he’d never feel that again.

“Fuck, what happened, baby, did you hit your,” and fingers are dancing gentle across points on Eddie’s skull, so delicate and careful and he can’t fucking help it—

“Are you real?”

Because he needs to know, he needs to know with words because this feels…this feels right and warm and impossible but also true, so.

He needs to know. “Am I…?” Steve’s lips part and his brow furrows before his jaw clenches in that dependable way he has of squaring up to the monster at hand, no matter the kind.

“Shit,” he breathes out slow but then he nods: resolved; “shit, okay. Okay, let’s find—“

“You are real,” and it turns out Eddie didn’t actually need him to say it. He just needed to see the flash in Steve’s eyes when he was ready to take on the world for the sake of love, the way he positions himself a little different in front of Eddie as he keeps one hand at Eddie’s cheek but then slides to brace more at his neck, purposeful, like he’s splinting a wound or something, and then a hand grabs for Eddie’s own again and: oh.

Oh yes. That is Steve Harrington, living and breathing and solid and real, because no one else protects like this.

No one.

Eddie’s heart stumbles, jackrabbits around a little, almost like a reset: like it knows as the implications sink in to Eddie’s mind that it’s not destined to break anymore.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees too easily, distracted as he tugs the gentlest bit at Eddie’s hand, toward the nurse’s station; “yeah, and we should—“

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs it off, but Eddie…Eddie’s vision is clearing. His pulse is settling. He can hear above the static and his limbs are getting lighter.

“You’re one-hundred-percent okay, not a scratch on you, not a single thing wrong,” he needs to make sure, like, so fucking sure.

“I am fine, Eddie,” Steve turns to look him straight on, exasperated and anxious and vibrant with it, so alive in it; “but you’re—“

Eddie’s hand moves almost without his conscious consent, definitely without a plan to grab at Steve’s arm and pinch his skin because Eddie was vaguely toying with the idea of pinches himself, and maybe with poking Steve a few extra times to make sure he didn’t disappear, but apparently his brain landed on: pinch Steve, avoid confirmation bias if your head wants to lie enough to make him real just you you, because you need him that bad.

Steve startles, and turns those beautiful brilliant bronze eyes on Eddie, stretches wide as he gapes a little at his husband.

Eddie…Eddie is here, in front of his living-breathing-gorgeously-aghast husband.

“Okay, oww,” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls back, leaving Eddie’s head to its own devices as he looks a little shocked, shooting just shy of a glare Eddie’s way: full of questions.

Eddie—now that the biggest one’s solved, and solved so perfect, so gentle and sure and he doesn’t have to bury the soul of him; he doesn’t have to bury his soul—but now?

Eddie also has some fucking questions.

“Where’s your phone?” seems the most relevant to start with.

Steve blinks, frowns a little:

“It got lost in the crash—“

“Crash?” Eddie’s tone pitches up to squeak a little because: Steve’s here and whole in from of him, yes. But fuck, there was still a crash? He was—

“Not mine, my car’s still parked at fucking Jiffy Lube,” Steve adds with a huff; “I saw it happen so I stopped and—“

And Eddie knows his husband. He knows his husband better than he knows himself, and Eddie’s kinda made it a point of pride for how self-aware he’s grown to be these days, in living this life and loving Steve beyond the bounds of living at all. But he knows his Steve, and so he knows damn well what happened.

Car runs into car. Steve sees it and jumps out to help. Because Steve Harrington is a protector. Steve Harrington is a helper. Steve Harrington is the best man Eddie’s ever known.

Soon as he jumped into the fray, he wouldn’t have thought once about a fucking phone.

And Eddie, Eddie just, he needs to—

He grabs Steve’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, lets them go and then pulls Steve tight to his chest and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder as Eddie winds his way around his husband, feels him breathing, feels the tickle of his hair.

“You’re gonna kill me, Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, that going tight now all over again:

“You’ve got the biggest heart of fucking gold the world’s ever seen,” he moans into Steve’s collar; “and you’re going to fucking kill me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his hands move up to rub Eddie’s back, rote and learned and he might not wholly get, yet, what Eddie’s putting together, and where Eddie’s head’s been, what his heart’s been through, but the first thing he knows, and does like clockwork, is to love of his partner, to soothe him even if he doesn’t know what for.

“Someone found your phone, and they, umm,” Eddie licks his lips, takes a suffering breath and tries to straighten but he’s not ready, not yet: he slumps right back onto Steve’s shoulder:

“They called the studio.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, bunches his hands in Eddie’s shirt and draws him tighter to his chest: “shit, they interrupted,” and oh, fuck no, fuck regretting the interruption—

“They told me they found it at a crash site,” Eddie grits out, the hurt of it still raw, like just saying the words no matter where they landed in trust, just recalling those minutes that felt like full nightmarish lifetimes, reopens the tender wounds it’d left in hims; “they found it with the case broken,” and Steve leans back, then, eyes saucers as he meets Eddie’s gaze, breath catches harsh.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie’s, taking the whole of him in and then he exhales so heavy:

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, fucking mournful before he takes his hands and links them behind the base of Eddies’ skull and draws him in to the center of his chest, envelopes him there whole: “come here.”

And Eddie falls into that chest—rising-falling-living—he falls into Steve so fucking fast

“I am totally fine, I promise you,” Steve breathes again Eddie’s ear, close and dear and real: “car’s fine—“

“I don’t fucking care about the car—“ Eddie tenses up, appalled at the implication that he gave one single goddamn thought to the car— “No, like, as proof,” Steve’s quick to correct him, to ease the hackles on him; “I wasn’t in the crash, but it was pretty bad and,” Steve shrugs a little then adds soft: “I keep my first aid certs up to date for a reason, I figure, right?”

Jesus; yes, okay. Steve’s savior complex had largely mellowed to a non-interdimensional-threat level with time but he’s meticulous about keeping every skillset he’d gone out of his way to learn from professionals before they’d gone up against the Upside Down for the last time sharp and at the ready for anything: even now.

Fuck, but this beautiful, brilliant, impossible man.

“I was helping, best I could, until the EMTs got there,” Steve tells him softly, fills in the gaps because he knows Eddie’s mind, all the pictures it paints for itself, and in times like these it’s always the worst possible pictures—he knows Eddie needs the slate wiped clean with the truths, blessedly softer, in this:

“Police wanted me to stick around for a statement but the girl who was driving the first car, she was so panicked and she didn’t want to go alone so, umm,” Steve huffs a little, shifts against Eddie gentle and solid and here: “she said she knew me, she was pretty desperate I think, so I rode here with her,” and of course he did, of course he did because he’s Steve; “now I’m just waiting to make sure she gets out of surgery okay,” he squeezes Eddie then, like a punctuation, and it feels so, so fucking good; “also still have to give the goddamn statement, but fuck knows that’s just hurry-up-and-wait,” he turns, and he kisses Eddie’s hair then and Eddie feels something snap in him, give way and the lingering tension spill from his frame as he gasp a little on a breathy exhale:

“I love you so much,” and he does, god: god, but how much he loves this man.

“I love you too, baby,” Steve mouths against his head and Eddie closes his eyes and nuzzles his a little closer as he puts it into words, because it feels like he needs to, it feels like in Steve’s arms like this, pressed up close to him to feel this undeniable life in him: it feels like the coast is clear enough to risk it, to confess:

“I was so fucking scared,” and the words only break a little, and that’s more than Eddie honestly expected.

“I am so sorry,” Steve bows his chin down to graze lips against Eddie’s hairline, delicate and intimate and shivery, trembly down Eddie’s spin for the best of reasons, now.

“Not your fault,” Eddie’s quite to counter, to make clear, because: “shit, you didn’t do anything, I just…”

Eddie makes himself pull back and meet Steve’s eyes, reaches out to frame his face, dear and desperate:

“I can’t lose you,” he moans a little, begs a little, says it with a bare line of something primal echoing in it, scraped straight from his bones: “I cannot ever lose you.”

“I know,” Steve turns and kisses one of his palms, and those two words hold the promise of five more they’ve said so many times, and held so true between them for so many year, through so fucking much:

It’s the same for me.

And to be loved the same as he loves is a fucking privilege; it’s heady and it’s wonderful and Eddie needs it, needs Steve, more than goddamn air.

“Sit with me?” Steve covers Eddie’s hands with his at his cheeks, and nods a little toward the blessedly-quiet collection of chairs by the windows; “while I wait?”

“Nowhere else I’d go,” Eddie says it like the given that it is, and pulls Steve close to kiss him full, to press his lips to Steve’s and drink his warmth, his breath, to feel it sink int past his heart and pump through his veins:

“Not ever, Stevie,” he speaks against Steve’s lips, all of him in it, every vow inside it:

“Not ever.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

[steddielations]

Eddie should’ve never taken that loan. It was at the start of his career, he was young and desperate to make it in the industry. It was just to fund his demo tapes but he should’ve known better than to get entangled with the mob, it wouldn’t end there. Once his music took off, they wanted more and more.

Now he has a life, a husband, they’re talking about adopting and Eddie hates himself for keeping this from Steve. He rationalized it, didn’t want to drag Steve into his mess, thought he could keep quietly paying but they want too much now. Eddie’s career isn’t as active anymore, there’s no way Steve won’t notice, they’ll go bankrupt, revealing this secret that he shouldn’t have kept for so long.

He’s gotten a few ominous calls and an unfriendly visitor at the studio that made it clear, they want their money and they’re gonna get it. He has to tell Steve, it’s getting too dangerous. So now he’s sitting across the dinner table from his husband, over a meal so lovingly made for them, about to blow up their life.

“Sweetheart, there’s something—”

There’s a noise outside the window, could’ve just been the wind but there’s more noises, people… footsteps… Eddie grabs Steve, dragging him to the bedroom as he demands to know what’s going on. Eddie tells him everything, in a hushed voice crouching inside their closet with tears brimming, he tells him every lie that’s caught up to them, stained their marriage, apologizes for putting their lives in danger and Steve—

Steve is rifling through the closet, pushing aside clothes to reveal the wall. There’s a compartment behind a painting that Eddie’s never seen. He watches, speechless and shocked to his core as his husband, his kindergarten teacher husband who wears ironed polos and makes dinner every night in a ‘kiss the cook’ apron, takes several lethal looking weapons from the wall and starts loading them up, quick and efficient like a machine.

“Steve, what—”

“You’re not the only one with secrets, love,” he presses a firm, forgiving kiss to Eddie’s forehead and leads him out of the closet, weapon raised, “Now get behind me.”

[fics-n-stuff]

The Interview (and the year and a half to follow)

Pairing: Eddie Munson × Steve Harrington

Summary: When rockstar Eddie Munson reveals that he's married, and to a teacher no less, his fans don't know what to do with themselves. Steve and Eddie, especially Eddie, love the chaos. And he can't help but keep declaring his love for his mystery husband.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: This is a modern AU in which Steddie are in their early thirties and everyone else is aged up accordingly, and it's truly incredibly sappy. I wrote this all in one go at 2-4am before a shift at 9am, so it could be a masterpiece or it could be crap. You decide!

"My husband is a middle school teacher." Eddie had said, just trying to give the interviewer a little bit of background on his life. He hadn't expected it to set the internet on fire. 

HE'S MARRIED?? TO A TEACHER?????

I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT HIS HUSBAND COULD BE LIKE!!!

IS IT AN OPPOSITES ATTRACT KIND OF RELATIONSHIP OR IS EDDIE'S HUSBAND JUST THE MOST HARDCORE TEACHER EVER??

ONLY A LEGEND LIKE EDDIE MUNSON COULD DROP SUCH A BOMBSHELL SO CASUALLY!!

"Eds, what the hell did you do?"

"All I did was say that my husband is a middle school teacher and now everyone's obsessed with you. I think they like the idea that I have a soft side."

"You're nothing but soft sides." Steve chuckled, engulfing Eddie in his arms as they cuddled on the couch. "Maybe I should be the famous one."

"In your dreams, Harrington." Eddie scoffed, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

"If they like the idea that you're secretly a softie, maybe you should tell them that we're an emergency foster home. Or that we have seven pseudo-children."

"One thing at a time, babe. I don't want to set the world on fire."

Eddie didn't do another interview for a while. He was busy producing his band's next album, their fifth one, and spending time with friends and family between tours. But when Corroded Coffin was invited to be the musical guest on a late night show two months later, partly to promote a movie that Eddie was in (it would be his acting debut and he would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified that people would think he was absolutely horrendous), he had almost forgotten about the frenzy he had whipped his fanbase into at the reveal of the existence of his husband.

"So, a couple of months ago you let slip that your husband is a teacher." The host said to him when he sat down after performing his song, and the audience cheered. These were the questions they wanted answered.

"Yeah, a lot of people were surprised to hear that I'm married but I've been wearing a wedding ring for six years." Eddie smiled, holding his left hand up to the camera to display the simple silver wedding band on his ring finger. "I guess nobody really noticed because I wear a lot of rings."

"That's insane, you've been married for six years?" The host exclaimed, and Eddie nodded with a chuckle. "I have to ask, how did you two meet? I mean, a heavy metal rockstar and a middle school teacher are not a conventional pair."

"We met in high school." Eddie answered, and the audience awed. "Well, technically, he had just graduated high school and I was on my second repeat of senior year. We met through some mutual friends."

"That's so sweet. Isn't that so sweet?" The audience cheered at the host's prompt and Eddie giggled, his hair falling into his face. "Was it a love at first sight thing? How did you end up together?"

"Um, kind of. It was strange, he was a popular jock in high school and I was about as weird and unpopular as they got, but once we got to know each other outside of school we clicked fast. And he's hot, like really hot, so I fell immediately." The crowd laughed.

"Wow, that's fantastic. But, anyway, I need to move on before I get carried away. Let's talk about this movie you're in."

"Yes, let's."

Steve was watching the show at home, sat on the couch with Robin on one side and Dustin on the other who were poking and teasing him as they watched the tooth-rottingly sweet interview. Robin was the one who hopped onto Twitter to see what people were saying, and, once again, social media was ablaze. #eddiemunsonhusband was trending the whole next day, and Steve and Eddie found it hugely amusing. 

Eddie slowly started opening up about his personal life after the overwhelmingly positive response to all his husband talk. At the premier of his movie, he walked Robin down the red carpet with him, telling the interviewers that the two of them and his husband were all roommates for a few years in his early twenties. In a radio interview he did in the lead up to his album release, he talked about how he ran the Hellfire Club in high school and how he was still friends with and still semi-regularly DMed for the kids that were in the club, and he told them about how one of the Hellfire kids was the one to initially introduce him to his husband. When the album released and the band did an interview with Rolling Stone, he told them about how supportive everyone in his life was of his music. He told them about the night's he would stay up writing Corroded Coffin's first album, his husband - then boyfriend - doting on him the entire time. And all of this served to fan the flames of his follower base because, even in opening up about his life and his friends and family, he never revealed who his husband was.

Steve didn't go to many of Eddie's public appearances. He never had; it wasn't his scene. And when he did, they kept their distance and kept things discreet until they were inside and there were no more cameras. When Eddie went out and released another morsel of information about his life, Steve sat at home grading papers or planning lessons and smiling to himself about his chaotic rockstar husband. 

And then it was time for Eddie to go on tour again. Steve hated saying goodbye when Eddie went on tour. 

The tour started in California and slowly snaked it's way across all fifty states, stealing Eddie away from their home in Indianapolis for six months. The faculty at Steve's school kept asking what was wrong in the first few weeks after Eddie left. He told them that his husband was travelling for work.

Eddie missed Steve too. Unapologetically so. For the first time on tour, he felt comfortable mentioning his husband. Every other night he brought up how much he missed him, usually as an introduction to one of their songs; one of the softer ones, off of their third album, that he wrote about Steve right after they got married. The audience ate it up every time. His bandmates always rolled their eyes and teased him after the show.

Eddie's tour landed back in Indiana right after Spring Break. Steve was thrilled to have him back, even if it was brief before he moved on to the next state. And Eddie was thrilled to know that, as he played his first night in Indianapolis, Steve was out in the crowd watching. Will, El and Mike had been out in the crowd when he played in California, Max and Lucas had come to see him in their recent new home of Chicago, and Erica, Nancy and Johnathan would be there when he played in New York City. But tonight he knew that Steve was out there in the crowd, with Dustin and Robin, screaming and cheering for him like he had from the start.

"Alright, this is the part of the show where I normally get all sappy about how much I miss my husband." Eddie said into the microphone, his skin gleaming with sweat. His fans cheered. "But not tonight. Because tonight, I'm pleased to say, my husband is here in the crowd." His fans screamed even louder. "And no matter how much you try you're not gonna spot him. You wanna know why? Because he's wearing my clothes so that he blends in with the crowd." Eddie grinned. The audience went wild. "This next one's just for you, sweetheart." 

Out in the audience, dressed in a pair of Eddie's black jeans, a pair of Eddie's bulky boots and a t-shirt from Corroded Coffin's last tour, Steve felt his heart swell.

A year after the revelation of Eddie Munson's husband came the revelation of Eddie Munson's kid. Like the chaos gremlin he is, Eddie took to Twitter on a Thursday afternoon and casually announced that he and his husband were fostering a kid with the intention to adopt.

Like clockwork, the internet set ablaze.

The eleven year old girl had been in Steve and Eddie's care three times over the past two years before the adoption, spending about eight months in their care over the three stays. Then, when Eddie had been in the last month of his tour, Steve got the call that a kid needed a place to stay. Steve had got the second bedroom ready with clean bedding, made sure the cupboards were stocked with snacks. And when the social workers arrived, the girl had launched herself into Steve's arms, babbling about how happy she was that she had ended up with Steve and Eddie again.

It was unusual for Steve and Eddie to see so much of the same kid. They were an emergency foster home, they usually only saw kids for a few nights or a couple of weeks. And it was the same with her the first time she stayed with them. She stayed for twelve days before she moved to a different home. But then she was back. Only three weeks later she was back in their care and, for whatever reason, that's where she stayed for the next five months. It had been a year since Corroded Coffin released their fourth album, and they had decided they were taking their time with the next one, so Eddie was home and not very busy and perfectly happy hanging out with the kid that they hadn't expected to have for so long.

She went back to her parents at the end of the five months, much to Steve and Eddie's disapproval. But they hoped that they had cleaned up their act and she would be going back to a more child friendly environment. Unfortunately, she was back a year later. The social workers had brought her back to Steve and Eddie and asked if they could keep her for a few months again. Of course, they enthusiastically agreed, and the three of them settled in together for the next three months until she was taken back to her family again.

The third time was the final strike. There was no way she was going to be placed back into her parents' care. Steve had volunteered them to foster her for as long as they could. She had always been a wonderful addition to the home ever since her first stay.

When Eddie got home he was thrilled to see her. He'd been filled in on the situation over call, of course, but you couldn't hug someone over the phone. It was only a couple of weeks after Eddie got home that he and Steve started talking about the possibility of adoption.

Steve and Eddie had always wanted kids. At first, they had planned on adopting a baby, but after involving themselves in the foster system and seeing the demand that there was for people to take in older kids they decided that that was their calling. The girl coming into their lives in the way that she did felt almost like fate. And so they sat her down and asked her how she would feel about the whole thing. Much to their delight, she had enthusiastically agreed to the idea, and they started the process immediately. Eddie felt like this was a major development in his life and he wanted to share it - at least a vague bit of it - and so a month later he took to Twitter.

Things went pretty quiet after that. Eddie's label was organising for a European tour, but he made sure it wasn't too soon so that he would be around for the adoption process. And that was where he put all of his energy: into his kid.

The girl attended the school that Steve taught at, and Eddie signed her up for a dance class when she mentioned an interest. Steve helped her with her homework and bought her books and had long conversations with her in which he taught her things without her even realising that she was learning. Eddie nurtured her creative side, buying her art supplies and teaching her guitar and singing Disney karaoke with her on the weekends.

Corroded Coffin was nominated for a Grammy. It wasn't their first nomination but Eddie was excited about it anyway. They hadn't won a Grammy yet, there only really being one category for metal music and plenty of artists deserving of the award.

Steve and Eddie had their first Christmas with a kid. Wayne came over like he did every year, making it a real family affair. They went overboard with the decorations and wracked their brains for the best gifts to buy. They made a gingerbread house and watched an obscene amount of Christmas movies, and it was the best Christmas they'd ever had.

The adoption was finalised at the end of January. The whole thing had been smooth sailing, Steve and Eddie having proved more than capable of taking care of a child over the years. And now they had a kid and they were officially a family and things couldn't have been better.

And then Corroded Coffin won the Grammy for Best Metal Performance. Steve and their daughter had leapt off of the couch with cheers and whoops and fists waving in the air. And after his bandmates had taken turns at the microphone thanking their management and their fans and their families, Eddie had taken his turn for a speech.

"I have so many people that I want to thank, and they know who they are. My uncle Wayne, the Hellfire kids and all my other friends from back home, all of our fans and every friend we've made in the industry. But, obviously, I want to thank my amazing husband for tolerating my chaos and the fact that I write best in the middle of the night. And I also promise to try and change that habit now that we have a kid in the house, and you're allowed to hold me to that." He gave his speech with a massive grin, trophy gripped tightly in his hands, and when he stepped off stage he split off from his band and excused himself to call Steve, who had secretly bought a bottle of champagne and Eddie's favourite cake from his favourite place to celebrate the victory (because he'd had a gut feeling that Corroded Coffin was going to finally win this one).

Then, as if it had crept up on them, it was time for the European tour, which would steal Eddie away from his husband and daughter for even longer than the US tour. 

Right before he boarded the plane, Eddie opened up Instagram, ready to cause one last stir.

The picture was one of Eddie's new favourites. Robin had taken it in their garden when she came over to hang out one random afternoon. Eddie was dressed peak rockstar, distressed black jeans and a studded leather jacket, chains dangling off him and hands covered in rings. And Steve was peak teacher, all blue jeans and a soft grey sweater, and glasses balanced on his nose. He was giving their daughter a piggyback, but the picture was from just an angle that you couldn't see her face, because she deserved her privacy even if her new dad was a rockstar. 

Now that it's all official and I find myself with this perfect little family, I think it's time to finally show you all the amazing man that I share my life with. Everyone, meet Steve.

And, for the final time, the internet went crazy. It was unanimous; they loved Steve. And Eddie couldn't blame them, because he loved Steve too.

[maya-keery]

Steve and Eddie hook up at a random bar and Steve is easily the best Eddie's ever had. (Not that Eddie has much experience but he has enough to know that Steve is good in bed)

So good in fact, that Eddie finds himself thinking about Steve a lot. He even catches himself looking for hazel eyes and brown hair when he goes places. He doesn't realize he does it so often until his son, Dustin, calls him out on it.

And then it's the next week and it's Dustin's first year of middle school. Eddie just happened to be so busy the week before that he couldn't take Dustin to meet his teachers. All he knows is that Mr. Harrington's English class is at the end of the hall, so he walks Dustin to his first hour. Mentally pats himself on the back because he hasn't looked for Steve since they walked in and maybe it's a sign that he's moved on.

He doesn't realize who's standing at the door at first. He's too caught up in hyping his son up for his first year of middle school. But when he does look up and see his gold star hook up Steve standing there in a sweater vest and glasses on his nose, he freaks out. Thinks about grabbing Dustin, running out of there, and enrolling him in homeschooling.

And, as if God is treating his life like a sitcom, Steve's not just a teacher he's Dustin's teacher.

[nerdnameddinkey]

the king swapped his polos for sweater vests ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[marriedtobigfoot]

A lot of people love to talk about teacher!Steve and I've seen people speculate about him teaching History, or English or Gym. But hear me out...Art Teacher.

Steve Harrington, who took art as an elective in highschool thinking it would be an easy grade, but who ends up actually really enjoying it. He likes the satisfaction of making something and the methodical process of doing it. Later in life he knows he wants to work with kids, but he doesn't think he would be happy trying to teach any of the core subjects like math or English, he never cared for them much himself, and even the classes he liked he wasn't super skilled in. Then he thinks back to that art class, remembers how much he enjoyed himself, and he finds himself taking classes towards a teaching degree a few months later.

After a while, Steve finds himself with a job teaching art at a local middle school. He loves it. He loves working with the kids, even though most of them are little assholes. Apparently, that isn't unique to the party. All young kids are kind of assholes. But they're also funny, and they put thought into the projects he gives them. He always gives them a lot of wiggle-room creatively, giving assignments that focus on certain techniques like painting or working with clay, but allowing them to choose the subject matter themselves. He works alongside them, making his own little projects. He isn't VanGogh by any means, but he kind of likes that. It helps show his students that they can have fun with the art and really make something they can be proud of without worrying about it being perfect or looking like something they would see in a museum. His students adore him. They tease him and make fun of him, but at the end of the day, almost every student who takes his class ends up raving about it to their friends. Parents he meets on occasion love him too. And only partially because he looks hot as hell with his glasses and his paint-stained apron.

At the end of a project, he has everyone go around and talk about what they made. He isn't picky. They can talk about their favorite part of making it, the story behind it, why they chose certain colors, and parts they struggled with. Any little bit of extra information about the project is enough to get the points. He wasn't expecting them to rope him into it when he first started. Now, he fully expects the questions they ask whenever he shows off a project with them.

The first project is charcoal drawings, and Steve draws a weird looking bat with a crazy mouth and no eyes. He tells the class that a bunch of his family play DND, and they have really vivid imaginations. It isn't a lie.

Next they do sand-art and Steve makes a set of patterns comprised of bright, vivid colors. Oranges and pinks and greens. He tells the class it represents his best friend, who is one of his favorite people in the world. A week later he tells the class that he showed her the sand art and she declared it the ugliest thing she had ever seen, then proceeded to hang it in her room with a bright smile on her face.

During the sculpting unit, he makes a homemade mug, with little fish carved on the side. He tells the class his father-in-law collects mugs, and this one is going to be a birthday gift.

The class seemed to like sculpting, so he does a unit on wire-art. He makes a small wire guitar and a wire ring. The class ask, with shit eating grins, if he's got somebody he's planning on proposing to. He happily tells them he already proposed, this ring is just for fun, since his partner loves to wear them.

Steve's small apartment fills up over the years with tons of art projects gifted to him by his students, paintings and drawings hanging on the walls, and a whole bookshelf dedicated to the 3D work. He remembers that first part class he took sometimes, back when he was just a sad kid who's friends were all assholes, he was a bit of an asshole himself, who didn't know that horrible things existed just under his feet. He thinks back on it fondly enough, but he couldn't be happier that he isn't that kid anymore. He's pretty damn pleased being the teacher now.

[a-little-unsteddie]

stuck in your throat || 1.2

1.1 | [here] | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5

if this seems familiar, it is because this contains part of the initial preview, if not all of it. next part will have all new content and be nearly as long as this one! woo! i’m pretty sure there’s 5 parts to chapter one, but i may be wrong, so i’ll correct it if necessary later.

The next few days passed in a blur of submitting applications and answering calls from random numbers, hoping that it was one of the places he applied to and not some scam call trying to get money out of him. It happened more than Steve thought it would, but unfortunately it did not surprise him, given he usually had unknown callers blocked.

“Hello?” Steve answered, having learned to not open the call with who was answering without knowing who was calling from one too many scam calls

“Is this Steve Harrington?” A soft feminine voice asked, taking Steve by surprise.

“May I ask who’s calling?” Steve asked, not willing to concede his identity until he knew it wasn’t someone looking to sell him ‘Alpha Pills’ or something just as ridiculous.

“Of course! My name is Chrissy Cunningham, you sent in an application for being a full time nanny and tutor?” She responded with a cheerful voice. “I can’t really go much more in depth without an NDA being signed.”

Recognition zapped through Steve’s body and he sat up in his seat. “Oh! Yes, I’m Steve. Um. I’d be happy to sign an NDA, just may I ask why?”

“Yes, you may! My client is a big fan of privacy and only agreed to hire someone if they were under an NDA for the protection of their pup.” aaand all of Steve’s anxiety surrounding the NDA pretty much melted away. Sure, maybe it was a bit much to do, and sure, now he was dying with curiosity to know just who he had ended up applying to, but the knowledge that the NDA was for the protection of the pup soothed any anxiety Steve had originally felt about signing an NDA. In fact, it kind of made his omega perk up. He shook off the feeling, focusing on Chrissy.

“That’s actually really relieving to hear,” Steve said with a laugh. “When or where can I sign the NDA?” he questioned, wondering when Robin would be home so he could tell her.

“Well, first, you and I will do a preliminary interview, just like any other job interview. Then, if all goes well, I’ll send you an email containing the NDA for you to review and sign,” Chrissy explained clearly and cheerfully. “After you sign the NDA, my client will perform an in-person interview and then we’ll go from there.”

“That all seems pretty straight forward so far,” Steve replied, standing from where he had been lounging on the couch. He walked to the kitchen, where he and Robin had put up a magnetic whiteboard calendar to fill with each of their schedules and plans. He grabbed the blue marker, his color, and prepared to jot down when they’d have the interview.

“Perfect! Happy to hear it,” Chrissy said with an audible smile.

“When will the interview with you be?” Steve asked, biting his lip as he stared at the calendar, which had sparsely been marked with his blue marker, even since starting this job hunt. Robin’s plans were in red, and was much more abundant due to having three part time jobs.

“Well, as soon as possible, really. If you’re available now, we could take care of it right away.” the woman responded, sounding like she was walking into another room.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed, recapping the marker and returning it to the pen holder. “Yes, of course. I’m available now.”

“Perfect!” Chrissy’s voice sounded from Steve’s phone as the omega walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. “So, starting off pretty easy here, what made you apply for this position?”

Steve thought back and grimaced at the reminder that it was Robin who had submitted his application to this particular job. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and quickly found a more appropriate response.

“Well, I love taking care of pups, and I just got my teacher’s license a month ago,” Steve explained, which wasn’t a lie, so he figured it was probably as good of an answer as any. “I also saw that this job traveled, and my best friend thought that it’d be good for me.”

“Yes, that was going to be part of this conversation, too. So, you’re obviously alright with the traveling, then?” Chrissy asked and Steve heard what he thought could be pen scratching as she wrote notes. He swallowed thickly, suddenly anxious about what she was writing. He decided to ignore his anxiety, even as his scent soured around him with it.

“Oh, yes, traveling is more than okay,” Steve agreed immediately, “but it’s more important to me that I’ll be taking care of a pup, if I’m honest.”

This statement seemed to pique Chrissy’s attention, as the writing stopped for a moment. “Why is that?” she eventually asked.

Steve winced, wondering if he should be up front about it or not. If Robin were here, she would insist that he was honest. He decided on a half-truth.

“I’ve always wanted pups, and a lot of them,” Steve admitted, fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on the couch. He switched which arm was holding the phone, as he had started to get a little sore from holding it up for so long. “But I don’t have a partner, so I can’t really have my own right now. I discovered through babysitting for one of my neighbors that I have a knack for taking care of pups.”

The scratching noise was back as Chrissy listened to his responses. Steve was nervous he wasn’t doing well, but figured that it wasn’t going bad if she wasn’t suddenly calling the interview short.

“Your resume says that you’re good in high stress situations,” Chrissy said after a couple seconds of silence as she wrote down whatever notes she was taking. Steve briefly wondered if he should be doing the same thing. “I’m going to give you an example scenario, and you’re going to tell me how you’d respond.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Steve agreed, trying not to let his voice betray how anxious he was.

“For the sake of simplicity, we’ll say the pup’s name is Rosie,” she informed him before she continued to describe the scenario. “You’re taking Rosie to the park, when suddenly there is a crowd of people surrounding you and you lose sight of her. What do you do?”

Steve thought the scenario was odd, but not ‘out there’ enough to alarm him. He thought about his answer for a moment before replying.

“I would try to follow her scent, first, because that will usually lead me to any pup I’ve babysat. If that doesn’t work, I will call out for her. If the situation is bad enough, I would contact the authorities, and either you or Rosie’s father.” he paused for a second before continuing, trying to make sure he covered all of his bases. “But honestly? If Rosie is small enough, I would have rather carried her once I saw the crowd, or hold her hand, for the reason of lowering my chances of separation.”

Silence that’s only broken up by the scratching of pen against paper followed, and Steve was suddenly anxious that he answered incorrectly. He answered what he would do if it were his own pup, but what if that wasn’t right? What if he wasn’t cut out for this job?

“Alright, next scenario,” Chrissy said, moving swiftly onto the next one without commenting on his answer; Steve didn’t know if he preferred her not acknowledging it or if he would prefer to be told his answer was shitty up front. The next few scenarios were just as oddly specific, but Steve answered them exactly as he did the first one. He tried to not overthink his answers too much because between each one there would be a stretch of time that Chrissy used to presumably write his answers down.

“One last question and then we should be good to move forward.” Chrissy said a good twenty minutes of questions later. “When would you be available to start working?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, surprised that he was seemingly, maybe being offered the job. “Um—immediately. I would need time to pack, but other than that, I’m free.”

“Wonderful,” Chrissy said cheerfully. “Alright, now it’s your turn. Do you have any questions for me?”

Steve hummed, trying to go through his usual list of questions he asked during interviews that hadn't already been answered and came up empty. “Not at the moment, but I’ll make sure to write any I think of down, if I do.”

“Perfect! So, I will consult with my client, and I have a few other applicants that are interested, but so far, you are my top pick, but I don’t make the decisions,” Chrissy laughed, as if Steve was in on the joke. He laughed with her, not knowing what else he should have done. So, maybe not a job offer, but it sounded promising anyway. “I will be in contact in a few days, three at most.”

“Sounds good, thank you so much for considering me, Chrissy,” he responded with a smile, hoping to leave one last good impression.

The line went dead, and Steve was left sitting on his couch, staring blankly at the tv, which was frozen on some dumb reality show that he had put on to fill the silence before he’d gotten the call. He wanted to jump up and dance around, but ultimately decided he would wait until he could do it with Robin.

tag list: @marklee-blackmore @paintsplatteredandimperfect @steddie-as-they-go @disrespectedgoatman @lingeringmirth @hyperfixated-on-stuff @swimmingbirdrunningrock @littlewildflowerkitten @sani-86 @thegingerrapunzel @adventures-in-mangaland @missingmalfoy1 @yellowdevilkitten @extra-transitional @queen-stevie @stevesbipanic @crypticcorvidinacottage

[fuctacles]

Unusual, but maybe not in a bad way

Eddie's shoes might look good, but they were never a good choice for summer rains. He kept forgetting that and letting the reality of his fashion choices hit him hard in the face. Or knees.

The bus had a moving plate in the middle that usually wasn't a problem but today wasn't usual. Today the rain was pouring and Eddie's phone was at 15% because he had been too lazy to plug it in before falling asleep. So today he had to switch seats to one next to a charging port and as he was making the short voyage, a few things aligned perfectly to make today unusual, and in a bad way.

The rotating plate was wet from the rain.

The soles of his shoes had no grip.

The bus turned left.

"Shit."

Eddie gathered himself off the wet floor, cursing his shoes, the weather, and the throbbing pain in his knee. Without looking up he fell heavily into the seat that was his destination, afraid of the amused stares he might catch. His dignity? Gone. His pants? Well, they were torn already anyway so one new hole didn't make much difference. His knee? Bleeding, apparently. As he rubbed his knees, one of his hands came out red. He groaned.

"Of fucking course." He just had to hit something sharp on the usually safe and relatively smooth surface. 

When he was reaching to plug in his phone, someone grabbed the pipe just above the USB port. Eddie looked up and found a man looking down at him. He also realized the golden frames of his glasses complimented his hazelnut eyes beautifully.

"You should clean this up," the man said instead of making fun of him or asking if he was okay. No, he was holding out a packet of wet wipes like some kind of saint.

Eddie hesitated for a moment but while his dignity might be gone, the gorgeous man in front of him wasn't. He took the offered wipe.

"Thanks," he murmured, wiping the cut and the surrounding skin, cleaning off sand and blood.

The man dropped a backpack on the vacant seat next to him. Eddie eyed the pins attached to it; a couple of dinosaurs, a Hufflepuff crest, ‘protect trans kids’, and… a bisexual flag. Score.

"Pirates, Hello Kitty or dinosaurs?"

"Huh?"

"Band-aid," the man clarified, shaking a small tin can he fished out of his backpack. "I work with kids," he added like it explained everything. Well, it kind of did. Upon opening, the tin revealed an assortment of colourful band-aids.

Eddie hummed in thought, considering his choices.

"Dinosaurs."

"Good choice," the man praised with a smile, probably the same one he showed to the kids. Was he a teacher? Because suddenly all the teacher-student porn scenarios gained a new appeal. Where skimpy pencil skirts didn’t work on Eddie, a soft green jumper just might, apparently.

The man handed him a dino band-aid, apparently expecting him to apply it himself. Well, of course. They were two strangers on a bus, after all.

Disappointed, he put it on the cut, missing the amused tilt of the teacher's lips.

"Do you need anything else? I have some candy; lollipops, gummies…" The man flipped through the contents of his bag.

"Gummies?" Eddie's interest was piqued.

"They have colourful fillings and a tiny dragon on each wrapper," he advertised, offering him a small baggie to choose from. Again, his tone reminded him of an adult talking to a kid. This shouldn't be working on him as well as it was.

"Can I have two?" he asked, looking up into these stunning brown eyes. The level difference was not helping. Has he not sat down on purpose? To tower over poor Eddie's tiny metal heart?

The man smiled as he took a quick conspiratorial look around.

"You can even have three, just don't tell my kids," he whispered

"I ain't a snitch!" he assured and picked up two green candies and an orange one. Because red flavours belonged in the trash.

Or apparently in the plush mouth of a handsome stranger, since he picked one of those for himself. Maybe Eddie didn't hate them that much, after all. He could make an exception. Especially if he could taste them the fun way.

"You sure you don't want a lollipop? Water? Extra band-aid?"

Eddie shook his head adamantly but had a nagging feeling the man was stalling. His gaze dropped to the flag badge, giving him an instant shot of courage.

"Your number?"

The soft teacher's smile turned sly, and he knew he took the right step. His metal heart thumped in his chest, the sound resonating against his ribs. What a fun feeling.

"Better hurry up, my stop is next."

Eddie nearly dropped his phone in his haste to put in the string of numbers.

"What do I…?" he asked when the empty ‘name’ box stared at him from the screen.

"Steve," the man offered, just in time for the bus to stop. The doors swung open, and he was gone, but while the physical distance between them grew, Eddie now had the comfort of having him in the palm of his hand, hidden behind a number.

>> Thanks for the candy! 🖤 - Eddie 

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

[thelastwalkingsoul]

Birthday post for my beloved B @stevesbipanic Eddie will never forget the day he found out Steve could sing.

He'd gone over to Steve's house to surprise him, using the key his boyfriend had given him not long after they officially started dating. Eddie had opened the door to music, loud and so very Steve. He'd walked into the kitchen to find Steve in the middle of cooking dinner, hips swaying. It wasn't an unusual sight. What caught Eddie off guard was the voice he could only describe as angelic. Something about it sounded so unlike Steve and it caused Eddie to stand still in the doorway, watching his boyfriend.

When Steve finally turned around, he jumped, face turning that pretty pink Eddie liked so much. He'd laughed awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. Eddie had simply walked over and pulled Steve in, complementing his voice between kisses. Steve later admitted that he never sang in front of anyone, too self-conscious of his voice. Eddie had stumbled across the magic of Steve's singing, meant for no one, but a gift he had all to himself.

Years later, he and Steve are happily living together in their cozy little house. Steve's a teacher at a local middle school and Eddie is riding the success Corroded Coffin has made for themselves. Their both content with where they are in life and sometimes Eddie can't believe he made it this far.

Steve is still just as gorgeous as the day Eddie fell for him. Robin constantly teases them for how grossly in love they are. And ever since Eddie found out Steve could sing he has treasured every little musical sound his boyfriend has made. Steve has a frankly adorable habit of subconsciously humming or singing whatever song Eddie's been working on recently and it makes Eddie positively melt. He tries his best to memorise the lyrics to all of Corroded Coffin's music and listens to every demo Eddie produces.

Eventually, Eddie manages to convince Steve to come and record himself singing in their at-home studio. Steve's still apprehensive about it, but Eddie promises it's for fun and drags him inside. They fuck around for hours, losing track of time as Steve sings through his favourite songs, then parts of Eddie's favourite songs, and then some of Corroded Coffin's songs. Eddie listens with a grin on his face the whole time, reassuring Steve when he needs it. Right at the end, Steve starts singing Eddie's newest work in progress. It's quiet and slightly slower than the original but it's sweet and Eddie eats it up. He sits, pretending to fiddle as he listens. It's his favourite sound in the world.

A month later, with an idea that's been brewing in his mind for several weeks, Eddie nonchalantly asks Steve how he'd feel if he could share his musical talent with the world, without anyone knowing it was him. Steve seems suspicious but answers anyway. It's all Eddie needs.

He secretly adds the small audio clips of Steve singing his newest work in progress, due to come out in the next few months. His bandmates pick it out, knowing it doesn't sound like Eddie or any of them but, despite knowing Steve well, can't pick that it's him. It's perfect and Eddie publishes the song like that. Steve's vocals are there, soft and airy in the background. Not too noticeable but loud enough that they add a little something extra to the song.

Now, Eddie knows Corroded Coffin fans are a little rabid. They're scarily observant, especially when it comes to picking hidden shit out of their songs. But Eddie didn't expect the insane reaction Steve's vocals have on the fanbase. People lose their shit. They love it. Love the tone and airy quality of it. They demand more. The best part is the mystery it creates around who it is. The fans argue over whether or not it's Eddie or the other band members. Some believe it's none of them, a secret 5th person left uncredited. Eddie stays silent on the discourse, absolutely loving the chaos it's creating amongst their fans.

Steve himself is confused. A small group of his students who he knows are fans of Corroded Coffin have been debating for days. He can't help but listen in, always interested in the little gossip he can gleam about Eddie's band. They turn to him one day as he's listening in and ask for his opinion, getting him to listen to the new song for the first time. He's sure he gasps when he hears his own goddamn voice singing back at him. It's quiet, sure, but Steve's surprised his students haven't figured out it's him yet. They seem to like it though, and while Steve's a little mad that Eddie put them in there without asking, he feels more than a little warm when he realises how much care Eddie put into including Steve in something he loved whilst making sure it wasn't too obvious. Still, though, Steve feels like he wants to simultaneously punch Eddie and kiss him till they’re both gasping for air.

Nobody can blame him if he goes home later that day and does both.

[stupidfreakingthoughts]

Thinking about teacher Steve Harrington. Because there is no way in hell Steve wouldn’t go into some type of career working with kids. He was too good at it, he loved it, loved having kids that he could take care of and provide support too in case their childhoods are anything like his was. because if there is any chance of Steve preventing another King of Hawkins High, he’ll take it.

Steve struggled with finding a career. He stayed at his job at Family Video working with Robin until she and the older group graduated and Nancy left to go to some fancy college away from all her trauma. Eddie, Robin and Jonathan went to a community college because that’s all they could afford and Steve was still stuck at his Family Video job. He decided to apply at the same college they all went to for the next fall, doing a two-year degree like the rest of them (except Nancy, she was taking a four-year english degree so that she could take her journalism career further).

After those two years, Eddie’s band got bigger and bigger until it could become his full time job. Corroded Coffin became one of the top metal bands in the world, touring and selling out venues. Meanwhile, Steve and Robin decided to go into the same career path, because they both loved their kids and they had never not worked together, it just felt right.

Steve wanted to work in a middle school, so that he could hopefully help kids out, stop them from becoming bullies like he was. He got a position as the Hawkins Middle Gym Coach, and Robin was the Drama teacher. Steve knew that not everyone was like him in middle school, plenty of people hated exercise and being active. He tried to make the class as fun as possible, playing fun games and not forcing anyone to do anything. Plus, there was always music playing in his class.

His students very quickly picked up on his love for the up and coming band, Corroded Coffin. Of course, they didn’t realize that he was the subject of most of their songs, whether they were sappy love songs (though still metal, of course) or some of CCs more obscure songs, the ones about bats and other dimensions that none of the public understood. His class just knew that whenever they were running laps, they were usually running along to the awesome guitar riffs and drum solos of Corroded Coffins music. They didn’t get why Mr. Harrington, the former basketball captain who was always in his sportswear or jerseys from different teams, liked this punk, metal band that just seemed completely out of his preferred genre of music.

But when they find out who Mr Harringtons husband is, it all starts to make sense.

[hitlikehammers]

safe under you

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar husbands, writing vows, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day nineteen: Love is the comfort of quiet moments  (@tboygareth)

the rockstar husbands are back on their soft-sleepy-romantic bullshit idk ♥️ maybe I'll get around to writing the ACTUAL VOWS next time

“You’re so quiet.”

Which meant Eddie should have heard his husband approaching but: as it stands he really, really didn’t, and he jumps hard when Steve whispers from behind his shoulder over the back of the couch.

Steve laughs at the glare Eddie shoots him—a half-hearted one at best but there—as he reaches to start rubbing at the crook of his neck, up and down on either side and the glaring goes away instantly because: Steve Harrington?

Has magical hands.

“Whatcha doing?” he murmurs close to Eddie’s ear and Eddie hums a little as he gathers himself from going immediately-boneless under Steve’s touch, the kneading of his palm against Eddie’s strained muscles because he’s been down here…not too long, he doesn’t think. They’d gone to bed together at normal time, and he’d fallen asleep, too; he’d just been restless when he woke up, and knew it was the kind of thing he wouldn’t get more rest out of unless he did something about it, so he’d kissed Steve’s head and rolled out of bed, regretful for it but hopeful, too, that if he gave in to the nagging at the back of his head, he’d quiet it enough to be able to slip back in next to his beloved, and lean against the mattress just so, so that Steve’s arms could curl around him as they always did: soft and sweet and waiting to hold him.

Eddie just hasn’t…managed to get there, yet.

“Writing,” Eddie sighs, and then whines a little as Steve’s hands leave their place on his shoulders, and he turns to look because where’s Steve going, Steve shouldn’t go anywhere, Steve should stay right—

Here.

And look at that: Steve’s plopping himself down on the sofa next to Eddie, a little too far but then he’s scooting further, and Eddie opens his mouth to protest but then Steve’s dropping down, draping his body over Eddie’s lap and laying against him, looking up at him with still-half-sleepy eyes and just…

He’s just so fucking beautiful, y’know?

“You’re never quiet when you’re writing,” Steve says, head tilted up, eyes closed as he leans back against the armrest where Eddie’s got his notebook, his face so soft. His mouth so soft—

“Campaign, you mumble to yourself,” Steve continues on, his voice syrupy, still only half-committed to waking; “lyrics, you hum if you don’t have a guitar,” and then he reaches down toward Eddie’s knee and taps rhythmic there:

“And you drum your fingers,” and Steve smiles as his fingers dance for a few languid moments before he eases his lashes open and meets Eddie’s gaze, because Eddie’s gaze has been on his since he settled in his lap.

Because: duh.

“Looks like it’s hard, too,” Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth, face still soft but mouth quirked just a little downward, still a little dream-soaked and Eddie love that part, but: never the downturn of that mouth.

“Hmm?” Eddie rumbles low so Steve’ll maybe feel it a little where he’s pressed; the little hazy giggle Steve lets out as he nuzzles into Eddie’s middle just that tiny bit: he felt.

Eddie likes to think he’s never been so in love, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t believe he’s ever not loved Steve with all of his everything.

He’s just wholly convinced that his everything grows with ever moment beside this man, every heartbeat lived together: it stretches him wider, broader every day for the singular purpose of holding the all of his love ever-bigger.

“Whatever you’re working on,” Steve murmurs, just short of sleep-slurred; “you’ve got this,” and he reaches, bats a little around Eddie’s face before he lands between his eyebrows and smooths the skin there which, okay, fine, had been all wrinkled-up.

“Means you’re concentrating too hard,” Steve comments sagely, patting Eddie’s cheek a little blind as he settles wholly back in Eddie’s lap.

“This happens to be very important,” Eddie counters with a tiny flick to Steve’s ear, which is met with a little squeak that warms his insides so delicate, so thorough and full.

“Doubtful,” Steve manages to scoff, like he’s tipping closer to wakefulness but not there yet; “not important enough to make you,” and Steve’s the one flicking now, light at Eddie’s forearm in emphasis:

“Quiet and frowny.”

He’s so…he’s fucking edible he’s so adorable, that’s what he is—Jesus.

“Not frowny,” Eddie lets a little at Steve’s hair, all tousled from the bed; “invested.”

Steve purses his lips and tries—fails, but tries—to peek at the notebook on level with his temple.

“What’s got you so invested, then?” he finally gives up trying to turn and read where Eddie’s hasn’t even bothered trying to hide, not least because there is nothing there, and just asks. And Eddie could dodge it. Steve would respect it if he did.

But he…he doesn’t. Generally speaking he doesn’t hide anything from Steve. Big or small. Their life is a shared thing from top to bottom and Eddie loves that about them so fucking fierce, so. He just sighs and admit it.

“My vows.”

Because that’s what’s been keeping him up, that’s what drove him out of the soft joy of their bed, that’s what amounted to scribbles and cross-outs alone on the page in front of him and it should be this hard, Eddie’s a decent enough lyricist, not to mention most of his songs all this time are for, or inspired by, or just about, generally, all-encompassingly: Steve. It’s always Steve.

Which makes it that much more unbearable that he can’t seem to fucking write his goddamn vows.

Then, though, just then; the most unexpected thing happens. Or starts.

Steve starts shaking against him and there a half-second he’s worried—does it hurt his sweetheart, that he can’t get the words down, does it make him sad, is he cryi—

No.

No: it only takes half-a-second for the anxiety to fade and the sound to register alongside the trembling: Beautiful. Radiant. Still wholly unexpected.

Steve’s laughing.

“That’s silly,” Steve finally tells him, looking up at him with genuine north in his eyes and yes, he’s still a little sleepy-drunk, but the feeling is wholly present and…

Eddie isn’t sure what to do with it—wants to just wrap himself inside it and savor but: his vows…laughable?

Silly?

“What?”

“You’ve already made your vows,” Steve grins up at him, all brightness; “like, three times,” and, okay.

Okay, that’s not exactly wrong, though he could probably try to argue that it was more three proposals’ worth of vows, and are those actually vows, if it’s just a proposal—

“Proposals fucking count,” Steve waves his wrist definitively and…Eddie isn’t sure if he said any of that out loud?

Then: probably wouldn’t make a difference either way. They know each other.

“The first one was legitimately with the twisty-tie from a loaf of Home Pride,” Eddie points out because: because that…that’s probably not as important—

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, and lifts his left hand: there’s a simple ring on his left hand, pricey for their budget when they’d gathered their family and committed to always in front of them under a temperate Indiana summer’s sky, bonfire and barbecue lively in the background: but that ring wasn’t smooth; it had a long-worn-bare stick of metal wrapped around it and soldered, one that used to be covered in bright paper to stick out against a plastic bread bag:

“I remember well,” and Steve sounds so soft, so blissfully taken in by the memory of that first time Eddie had proposed and, fuck.

Fuck, the butterflies never go away, do they? That effervescent joy stays fresh and vivacious forever.

Thank fuck; he wants no less of this; for them. The love they have deserves no less.

“Still want to melt down the Ring Pop,” Steve says as he plays with his ring; “make it match,” and that’d been the second time: Steve had bought Eddie a ring at a ren faire, and Eddie’d been beside himself to reciprocate, immediately, because Steve deserved no less, and that was how the bum-end of a long-licked Ring Pop came to live eternally on Steve’s keys.

To be eyed for melting into a full-hoop shape for years, now, but Eddie kinda thinks it’s loved and treasured plenty, just as it already is.

“I love you so fucking much,” Steve tells him, apropos of nothing, and that’s…that’s kind of exactly how they work, yeah. They just love.

So fucking much.

Eddie’s pulse kinda skips with it, bounces like pigtails hopscotching along, all unbridled glee. He draws Steve hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles.

“Aren’t you,” Eddie swallows as he lifts his blank notebook and shakes it around a little: “aren’t you stressing over them?”

Because it doesn’t sound like he is, and that’s…sure, they’ve done this before, if not with a license in hand like they will this time. But Steve’s always been more prone to worry over stuff like this. So while Eddie doesn’t want the man he loves to be anxious, he is…kinda wondering, is all.

“Not writing any,” Steve shrugs and lets the motion turn him a little against Eddie’s lap, to look up more straight-on.

“You know I’m not great with words,” Steve tells him simply; “like, planning them out, I’ll fuck it up in the moment and then I’ll just be more flustered.”

And, yeah: okay. That’s a fair point.

Then there’s a hand slipping up his jaw, and crawling his cheek, and turning him down to look at Steve closer:

“Figured I can just look at you, and I’ll,” Steve’s pupils get bigger as he exhales, as he takes in Eddie’s face and beams at him, strokes his cheekbone with his thumb.

“The most important things are always right there,” Steve breathes warm: “so I’ll just say what’s already waiting.”

And shit. The man says he’s bad at words.

“You’re the light of life, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, contorting himself to lean and Steve sees, arches up to press their lips as Eddie mouths against him: “the song in my soul,” and fuck: he means it so many times over he could never count it, could never pin a number to it. It’s too vast.

“See, look at you,” Steve taps his cheek playfully, but so soaked up with love; “you’ve already got all your words, so,” and then he lets his hand slide off Eddie’ face, and he sits up just to grab at Eddie’s legs, swing them up onto the couch and settles himself between them, tugging Eddie from the calves further down until he’s propping himself up by his palms.

“C’mon,” Steve coaxes, and uses his back to ease Eddie down and: oh. Oh, he wants them laid out on the cushions.

And well: Eddie could, would, will only ever oblige, if the question is do you want to lay down with your husband thrice-almost-four-times-over?

Because again: duh. If they were really in the market for silly ideas.

Steve sighs so happily, so airy and bright even as Eddie reaches to flick the light off, and wraps his arms to rest around Steve, sure and close where he holds him to his chest, folds him in where he already nuzzles deeper and:

It’s how safe my heart feels under the weight of your head.

Well, fuck him.

Maybe he does know his vows already.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here