#I don’t want to fucking move to Indiana THOUGH

[theaologies]

Day dreaming about hyper specific modern AUs, day dreaming about just going and getting a degree in Irish studies

[hotluncheddie]

for the @steddie-spooktober day 6 prompt : haunted

rated : M | cw : mention of weed & alcohol | tags : high school Halloween party

👻👻👻👻

‘You like spooky shit, right Munson?’ Steve says, leaning against the kitchen doorframe and lighting a cigarette. He’s wearing a thrown together Indiana jones costume, with tight brown pants and his shirt unbuttoned criminally low.

Eddie had been to the Harrington house a couple of time now. Guy was on multiple sports teams and had ample space to host, and a big house full of teenagers was the perfect place for Eddie to sell.

Harrington would buy sometimes too, small talk about classes or what Eddie was drinking or whatever nothing subject he could come up with. Always acknowledged Eddie with a nod at the start of the night, which he did appreciate. He likes to at least feel a little welcome at these things, even though the host knows he’s only really there for one thing.

Get his cash and get out.

But Steve was alright, all things considered. Not too bad a guy even if some of his buddies were real meatheads. He usually slunk around Eddie after a couple beers, words a little loose, trying to get Eddie to talk about cars or movies, seemed to want to reach somewhere a little closer than dealer/client. It was sweet, in a way, and Eddie couldn’t help but notice the staring. Steve’s eyes staying on him as he cuts deals with others. Roaming his face as they talk. Dipping to his lips.

Eddie likes it. What can he say, jocks are a thing for him.

And truth be told, Eddie does in fact like spooky shit. And it is Halloween, so, he bites.

‘Sure Harrington, you gonna show me your old dead ma and kill me in the shower or are you more of a - we moved into the place and didn’t know it was haunted, and now the walls bleed sometimes, type of guy?’ Eddie rambles, packing up the last of his stuff so he can head out and join the horror movies and beer celebration at Jeff’s after.

But once he looks back at Steve, waiting for the guy to answer, all he’s met with is a smug sort of smirk, maybe a little fond.

Eddie swallows, not sure what to say, what to do with his hands.

‘Mom’s in Maine with my Dad. And while I could pull off the dress, I just don’t think the grey wig would suit me, you know?’ Steve sighs out a puff of smoke.

Eddie shoves his hands in his jacket. ‘Haunted house it is then.’

Steve slips away from the crowded kitchen, out the back door and into the cold autumn air.

He opens the old door to a pool house, stepping into the shadows and Eddie hesitates a moment before stepping in after him.

The door closes and Eddie doesn’t not jump. Steve stands beside it, leaning against the old wood. The room dark apart from the glow of the little frosted window.

‘Tommys convinced it’s haunted in here.’ Steve says, still fucking smoking.

Eddie steps towards him, taking the cigarette from his lips and pulling on it. ‘Yeah? Guess it is pretty spooky.’

‘Mmhmm’ Steve’s looking at him again. Eyes dipping down.

Eddie blows smoke in his face, Steve doesn’t flinch. Just jerks his head, motioning Eddie closer.

Eddie steps forward. Toes of his sneakers bumping Steve’s.

‘You scared Stevie?’ He asks, putting the cigarette out on the wall and letting it drop to the floor.

‘Nah. Don’t believe in ghosts.’ Steve whispers.

Eddie steps closer, their mouths slotting together. He sighs as a big hand comes up to his neck. His own finding purchase on Steve’s waist. He tastes like beer and candy and weed.

Eddie loves Halloween.

👻👻👻👻

Tag list (message to be added/removed) : @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @thecatkingsthrone @marvel-ous-m

@chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A chance encounter

Words: 1,732 [also on AO3]

Rated: E

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Record label owner Eddie; Waiter Steve; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Blood and violence; Sex work (implied); Attempted non-con; Homophobic language; Steve Harrington whump; Eddie Munson whump; Protective Eddie Munson; Protective Steve Harrington

Notes: Happy birthday, @house-of-the-moving-image! I hope you have the most wonderful of days. I'm so happy to have found you as a friend and partner in crime. Hope you enjoy your extra long chunk of Upside Diner, even though it turned out quite gritty for a birthday fic. 😅💕🛼

Eddie grumbles under his breath as he locks the office door and steps out into the dark street. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves his job. Hellfire Records is his baby. Making music, working with all sorts of different artists and bands, helping them make a name for themselves - it’s everything he ever wanted and never thought he could have growing up in the smalltown hell of Hawkins, Indiana. 

What he doesn’t love is the meetings and the paperwork and the phone calls, especially on days like this, when it all drags on until well into the night. 

The echoes of his boots bounce off the empty streets as he makes his way towards the little diner at the corner. Checking his wristwatch, he swears again. Fuck, it’s even later than he thought. What if Steve’s shift is already over? The thought makes his stomach clench with an unpleasant feeling that distinctly feels like disappointment. The realization makes him pause and furrow his brow. 

Maybe it’s a little bit pathetic, how quickly his visits to the diner have become the highlight of his day. Maybe it’s a little bit weird that he hasn’t had dinner anywhere else in literal weeks. Maybe it’s a little bit creepy, this obsession with a boy he knew fleetingly in highschool. An obsession that makes him come by every single day after work, without fail, just to chew on soggy fries and greasy burgers and watch said boy waiting tables, gliding around like an angel in chunky roller skates and stupidly short shorts. 

Maybe he has a problem. 

And maybe he doesn’t care. 

Because for all his initial reluctance and bite, Steve has actually started coming around. Has been accepting Eddie’s money and attempts at conversation with barely a complaint. Has even stopped asking why Eddie keeps ordering way too much food for one person alone, taking the leftovers behind his counter to munch on. Hell, last week when Eddie came in, he even looked up from the order he was taking and flashed him a wave and smile. Eddie rode that high all night and well into the next day. 

It’s the memory of that smile that makes him pick up his steps. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll catch Steve at the tail end of his shift and convince him to stay around for a little longer. 

The diner is empty, except for a lone person in uniform wiping down tables behind the neon-lit window pane. It isn’t Steve. Eddie spares one glance at the bored-looking girl and turns away with an annoyed groan. That’s it, he thinks, pulling his headphones from his pocket and slamming them on with a little more force than strictly necessary. Tonight officially sucks. Time to go home and fix himself some SpaghettiOs, turn on a late night show and fall asleep in front of the- 

For the rest of his life, he’ll thank fate for making him fumble with his discman. Because if he’d hit the play button a second earlier, he would never have heard the voices. But this way, he does, and this way, he halts his steps, peering into the narrow side alley with a wrinkled brow. The light of the streetlamps only reaches so far, and everything he can see are the dumpsters and old cardboard boxes at its entrance. Beyond them, everything is dark. 

“Dude, get your hands off me, I said no.” 

Steve.

Eddie is halfway around the dumpsters before he even knows it, heart beating in his ribcage like a jackhammer. The alley reeks of piss and rotting garbage. At its far end, almost hidden behind another dumpster, are two figures. Eddie can’t make out their faces, but he also doesn’t need to. The colorful uniform is unmistakable, even in the murky half-light, even though it’s paired with a pair of sneakers rather than roller skates. And besides, he’d know that ridiculously floofy hairdo anywhere. 

He doesn’t know the other man. Only knows that the guy's hands are grabbing Steve’s arms and shoulders hard enough to leave marks as he attempts to wrestle him to his knees. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” the man hisses just as Eddie rounds the dumpster. “I’ll make it quick.” 

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Steve sneers, trying to struggle out of his hold. “I said get your fucking hands off me.” 

The man slaps him across the face. Steve makes a pained noise and loses his balance, going down on his knees on the dirty ground. 

The man laughs, curt and mean.

“There you go,” he coos. One of his hands grabs a fist full of chestnut hair while the other reaches for the half-undone fly of his pants. “Now be a good little slut and-” 

The force of the impact sends the discman tumbling from Eddie’s pocket. It shatters on the ground somewhere, parts flying in all directions, but he doesn’t have eyes for it. Instead, he grabs the asshole by the lapels of his cheap suit and hauls him against the nearest wall. The back of the asshole’s head hits the bricks, and Eddie thinks he hears something crack. Good. 

“Eddie?” 

While the man sags against the wall, groaning and cradling his head, Eddie whirls on Steve. Steve, who's just swaying to his feet, eyes wide and shocked. His cheek is flushed and starting to bruise. 

“Shit,” Eddie swears. “Are you-” 

Pain explodes inside his skull, sudden and all consuming. He stumbles, trying to keep his footing and cracks his head on the hard metal edge of the dumpster in the process. He manages to blink the stars from his vision just in time to see the man's fist flying at him. The blow makes his ears ring and copper flood his mouth, and when he regains his senses, he's on the ground with two hands closing around his throat. 

“Thought you'd play the hero, huh?” The man's grin is a manic grimace. A glob of spit hits Eddie’s cheek. “Well, how'd that work out for you, you stupid little-” 

“Hey, shitface!” 

The man snarls and turns. Eddie doesn’t see what happens, just knows that something goes crunch and suddenly the hands pressing down on his windpipe are gone. The man's voice turns into a high-pitched wail of pain. 

Eddie rolls around, coughing and gasping for air, and props himself up on his elbows. The man has shrunk against the next wall, clutching at his face. Crimson blood is bubbling out from between his fingers, hitting the alley floor in a steady pattern of drips. 

“Fuck off,” Steve says and lowers the hand holding the roller skate. His voice is deadly calm, his face steely. “Remember to put away your dick first.” 

The guy stares at him. Steve raises the roller skate again, just a little. The asshole whimpers and scrambles upright, mumbling something to himself. Eddie thinks he catches something about fucking lunatic fags, but he can't be sure, what with the way his voice comes out all wet and garbled. And then he's gone, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

Steve drops the roller skate. 

“Fuck,” be whispers, crouching down next to Eddie and brushing hesitant fingers over his split lip. Ten minutes ago, Eddie would’ve given anything to feel those hands on his face, but now he winces and recoils at the sting of pain. 

Steve retracts his hand, flopping down on the ground with a heavy sigh. The shorts ride up with the movement, exposing strong, muscled thighs. His knees are scraped from hitting the asphalt, little droplets of blood beading on the torn skin. 

“What’d you go and do that for?” Steve asks, scrubbing a hand down his face. All of the steel is gone from his voice. He sounds tired instead, infinitely tired. “I had it under control.” 

Eddie can’t help it, he barks a laugh. “Oh, did you, big boy? When was that, exactly? When he backhanded you? Or when he had you by the hair and was about to shove his cock down your-”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who got punched and choked half to death!” Steve snaps. 

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it again. The boy has a point, sort of. He doesn’t need a mirror to tell which one of them is looking the worse for wear right now, not with the white-hot pain still throbbing through his face with every heartbeat. 

“He didn’t choke me half to death,” he mutters lamely. Steve huffs a humorless laugh. 

“Thanks, anyway,” he then says. It comes out so quietly that Eddie nearly misses it, and when he looks up, Steve has averted his eyes. Eddie has an acute flashback to their first meeting at the diner, when Steve reluctantly accepted his tip money. “Could’ve gone a lot worse if you hadn’t shown up.” 

Eddie feels his mouth tug into a grin, even though his lip stings like an entire beehive. 

“Anytime, Stevie. Now c’mon, let’s get outtaaaaah, shit.” 

Trying to stand is a bad idea. The moment he’s upright, another firework of pain goes off behind his temples and the ground tilts out from under him. The only thing that saves him from going right down again is Steve jumping to his feet and looping one of Eddie’s arms around his shoulders. 

“Shit, he got you good,” he mutters. Eddie can only hum in agreement, too preoccupied with keeping the meager contents of his stomach down. “We should probably get you somewhere with a first aid kit at least.” 

“‘s okay,” Eddie slurs, inadvertently leaning closer into Steve’s warmth. He smells of shampoo and frying fat and blood. “I’ll be fine, I live nearby.” 

Steve’s eyes flit over his face, then off to the side, then back to his face again. He licks his lips and even in his dazed state, Eddie can clearly see how he wars with himself. Finally, he gulps and straightens his spine. 

“Okay,” he says, adjusting Eddie’s weight on his shoulders. “Let’s go then.” 

It’s weird, Eddie thinks as they start to hobble their way down the dark street. He must’ve fantasized a thousand times about taking Steve Harrington home, but never once did he think it’d play out like this. Then again, things in his life rarely go as he imagines, so he supposes he’s just gonna roll with it.

@steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

Part 4

Tag list: @grtwdsmwhr @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon

[californiaboytoybilly]

Billy, who has only ever known a life of ‘use or be used’ comes to Hawkins, Indiana with exactly one plan.

To get the fuck back out.

But see, the problem is that that takes money. Money he definitely doesn’t have.

The first night in his new room, he doesn’t bother to unpack. No, he sits on the floor by his bare mattress and he plots.

It’s not worth the risk trying to steal from Neil. Can’t escape this shithole if he’s fucking dead. Getting a job and actually managing to keep the money without his father finding out would be… difficult.

Bored housewives would probably be willing to shell out gifts for the privilege of a quick fuck to forget their balding, miserable husbands. It wasn’t much, but it was a thought to consider.

He leaves that half finished plan open in his brain when he goes to his first day at Hawkins High, only to have the page ripped up and burned at the first sight of one Steve Harrington.

Bored and- seemingly- apathetic pretty boy with absent parents and a big house. Considerably more his type than some desperate midwest housewife with sickly sweet perfume and a simpering voice.

And clearly rich.

By the second week of classes, Billy has caught Steve’s eyes lingering on him a few too many times.

So starts what would become both the only thing that mattered to him, and the worst thing he’d ever do.

His usual charm doesn’t work on Steve, so he goes the other way. Taunts him, a bully pulling on his pigtails until one day Steve snaps and kisses him behind the gym until Billy almost forgets why he’s doing this entirely.

At first, he feels no guilt in it. They don’t talk feelings, it’s just good fucking sex and Steve apparently loves to give gifts.

Gifts that are too thoughtful. Too knowing.

First aid supplies. Clothes. Buying him expensive dinners to make up for the nights Billy was sent to his room without a bite to eat the entire day, even if he didn’t know that.

Billy starts to become more aware of his plan as the days, then months slip by. He thinks of all the times Steve has given him money for gas or other things, how Billy has lied to him. How all that money is stashed away, just waiting for a chance that he can disappear into the night like an asshole outlaw.

Steve becomes his boyfriend and the guilt sits heavy and sticky in his gut. He starts to second guess what he’s been doing.

Billy doesn’t say he’s in love, not even when Steve does. He knows he is- has fought against it with every fibre of his being the whole fucked up way down- but he can’t bring himself to say it when his escape is on the horizon.

He comforts himself by telling himself Steve will forget about him. Move on and marry some docile stay-at-home wife who wouldn’t push his buttons the way Billy did.

But then, late one night, Steve says it again while he’s pressing Billy down into the mattress. And Billy- emotionally taken apart by a particularly bad day at home- crumbles. His eyes fill with tears and he says it back in a fit of weakness. The first time he’s ever said those words to someone.

I love you too.

That’s when his plan starts to fall apart. It’s become annoyingly apparent that he can’t escape this. Doesn’t want to. Steve has become his escape.

So even though it feels like pulling teeth, he starts to empty his stash. He buys Steve gifts now, because spending it on him makes him feel less vile. Takes Steve out on dates.

He finally feels a sense of relief when it’s gone, even if he says goodbye to California mournfully in the same thought.

It’s easier to be around Steve after that, even if a trace of the guilt always lingers. Easier to say he loves him when he isn’t constantly ready to say goodbye. Easier to open up to him.

He finally tells Steve the truth about Neil, and the first thing Steve does is offer him a place in his home if he needs to run.

Billy loves him. He feels free for the first time in his life. He’s happy.

And that’s when Steve finds out the truth.

[venus-haze]

Secret Identity!Homelander x Reader Headcanons

Note: Gender neutral but mildly fem-coded reader, and no descriptors are used. This is inspired by the throwaway line from season 1 where Homelander mentions having a secret identity, but not keeping it for long, so I imagine it’d have been in the 2000s when he was in his 20s. My brain really latched onto the idea, and this is the result. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Warnings: Voyeurism, relationship under false pretenses, obsessive and disturbing behavior. Do not interact if you're under 18.

• Your new neighbor moves into the apartment next door seemingly overnight, but luckily you have a box of brownie mix and some powdered sugar tucked away in your cupboard and decide to make some as a ‘welcome to the building’ gesture

• His name is John, and he apologizes in advance if he wakes you up with his coming and going since he works odd, inconsistent hours as a crime reporter for a small, independent newspaper

• You notice the Indiana University logo embroidered on his sweatshirt and cheerfully say, “Hey, you’re a Hoosier! I’m sure you’re already working on your March Madness bracket.” He nods along as if he understands what the fuck you’re talking about. The two of you continue small talk until you make your leave back to your place. He goes to his computer, groaning at his choice of Indiana as his home state when he doesn’t know anything about basketball, let alone March Madness and brackets

• Over the next week or so, he realizes just how unprepared he is for living on his own, but luck’s on his side, because he hardly has to worry about doing much cooking or cleaning himself when you’re constantly inviting him over for dinner and offering to bring his clothes over to the laundromat with yours since you “know he’s so busy with work”

• Sometimes he has trouble keeping his backstory straight, though he is at least able to bullshit his way through your questions about college and basketball. That doesn’t faze you at first, as he keeps you enraptured with his inside scoop on crime in the city. You’re none the wiser as to how he knows the intimate details of some of the cases, under the impression that he’s just a great reporter

• He keeps tabs on you from afar, Homelander doing quick fly-bys of the area where you work just to make sure everything’s okay. He was raised to be a hero, after all. When you’re alone in your apartment, however, he has no shame in looking through your walls and listening in on what you’re up to. He knows everything about you, the type of music you listen to, the TV shows you watch, the food you go for when you wake up for a midnight snack, that you call your best friend every Thursday night at nine, no detail is too minute for him

• One evening, he decides to take a closer look at your place while you’re in the shower, until he looks through the bathroom wall and feels his mouth go dry at the sight of you. He slips his hand down his pants, and, well, what you don’t know won’t hurt you. It becomes a habit, his guilty pleasure of getting himself off whenever you’re naked in your apartment

• To you, though, he’s still your hot neighbor-friend John, who your coworkers have been pestering you to make a move on, telling you that it sounds like he’s straight from a Hallmark movie. You’re reluctant, but you start to consider something with John when you mention wanting to get rid of some of your older, worn-out furniture and buy new stuff and lament having to pay a company to move. He volunteers to help you during the weekend

• It’s almost funny how he pretends to struggle to move the furniture when he could rearrange your entire apartment without breaking a sweat. He seems to be a good actor, though, because he notices your forehead creased with worry as you watch him move a couch himself. He likes your eyes on him for a change, and though he flexes his muscles every chance he gets, the concern awakens something in him. It’s nothing less than calculated when he “accidentally” drops the couch, pretending to hurt his arm in the process

• You’re frantic as you rush to his side to inspect the damage. Of course there’s no bruising, a truck would have to land on him for that to happen. Still, you gingerly touch his arm and he pretends to hiss in pain. You disappear into the kitchen, only to return with a bag of frozen vegetables in your hand and guilt etched across your features

• “John, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” you ask, brushing his hair from his face, and it takes everything in him not to lean into your touch as he assures you he’ll be fine. The furniture moving project is over for the night, and you order a pizza and let him pick a movie to watch. Your movie collection is almost foreign to him, having been raised on a carefully curated selection of propaganda and clean American classics. He picks Dirty Dancing on a whim, and it proves to be a good choice as you gush over how much you love the movie

• For the first time in his life, he indulges in greasy junk food and cheesy movies, feeling that pang in his heart again as he watches the romance unfold on screen, the one weakness he could never quite get over, loneliness. He notices how as the movie progresses, you end up curled up against him. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering to himself if it’s actually a date all along, and from the way you keep glancing at his lips, only to bashfully look away when he catches you staring confirms that

• He can hear your erratic heartbeat and decides to just go for it, stealing a kiss from you in the middle of the movie. From then on, you’re dating, and suddenly this persona of his becomes far more complicated than he anticipated. You make him happier than he’s ever been in his life. He wants to keep you incredibly close, both of your respective free time consumed by each other, even while he’s Homelander, unbeknownst to you

• John may as well be your dream boyfriend in the beginning of your relationship, attentive and romantic, bringing you to a nearby park on your first official date for a picnic and to try the famous Dirty Dancing lift scene. “Let’s at least try!” he insists. “I’ll catch you.” Despite your hesitations since he’d hurt his arm moving your furniture just a few days ago, he catches you with an almost unbelievable ease on the first try, to your delight. “I’ve always wanted to do that!” you laugh as he sets you down, pulling him in for a kiss

• He buys you elaborate floral bouquets and increasingly expensive gifts, to the point where you wonder how the hell he has that kind of money as a reporter unless he gets paid off by the same criminals he’s supposed to be reporting on. Sometimes he’s troublingly jealous or says things that unsettle you, but you assume it’s because of the line of work he’s in, being exposed to the worst of people. Besides, whenever you get even the slightest bit nervous by his words or actions, he seems to know just when to swoop in and calm you down

• Definitely has no concept of personal space or normal sleep schedules. You’re the first non-Vought affiliated person he’s ever had any kind of relationship with. It’s intense and things move pretty fast, like "I love you on the third date" fast. He idealizes you a lot. Emotionally you’re stretched thin by having to fill the role of lover, parent, best friend, confidant silly rabbit

• Date nights at your place are comforting and domestic, but going out is always an adventure with him. His lack of knowledge of generally getting around New York is downright strange since he reports on crimes all over the city. Not to mention, people do double-takes when they see him, as if they recognize him from somewhere but then figure otherwise. It happens way too often to be a coincidence, though

• Sex with John can also be unpredictable, passionate and loving to intense and almost painful. He’s into some weird stuff and doesn’t have the best etiquette when it comes to his kinks. Not to mention his stamina is almost inhuman, and when you comment as much after he fucks you the fourth time in under two hours, his response is strange, to say the least. You chalk it up to years of sexual repression that he maybe didn't get out during his college years

• Still, he supports and adores you, so you can deal with the frustration and emotional exhaustion when he knocks on your door at eleven at night, letting out a dramatic sigh as he flops on your couch and you take the cue to ask him how his day was. You know there’s something he’s keeping from you, but you decide not to push it. He’s just as interested in your everyday life, hell, he wants you to bother him with the mundane stuff. That’s what boyfriends are for, anyway. You have no idea of what his true identity is, yet you still love him 

• It can’t last forever, though, because you work late one evening, so he decides to check up on you, just to be safe. The scene he descends on is almost too perfect, the type of scenario he’d seen played out in the Vought-branded Payback cartoons he watched growing up. Still, seeing the man so much as pointing the knife in your direction as he demands you hand over your money and valuables almost makes Homelander lose control

• He lands in between you and the man, who takes a nervous step back. “Not so brave now, huh, buddy?” Homelander scoffs, grabbing the man’s wrist and snapping it, the knife falling to the ground as he screams in pain, clutching his broken wrist

• The situation becomes even more nightmarish as you watch America’s fresh-faced hero push your attempted assailant onto his knees, a cruel gleam in his eyes and sneer on his lips as he grabs the man’s head and twists. You can’t bare to watch, gagging when you hear a distinct snap followed by the crunching of bones

• Homelander turns to you, taking you into his arms for what’s supposed to be a comforting embrace, “It’s alright now. You’re safe with me, babe” 

• Your brain pretty much short circuits as you realize your boyfriend John is actually the most powerful superhero who ever lived, and you just witnessed him break a man’s neck like it was a toothpick

• Naturally, you pass out, right into his blood-covered hands. He presses a kiss to your forehead and takes off for Vought Tower. No need to pretend anymore, right?

[sunshinesteviee]

mvp - s.h.

summary: you think steve deserves a prize after his baseball game for being the MVP; baseball player!steve wc: 3.9k warnings: a bit of baseball, but it's honestly not too heavy on it lol. this is mostly smut!! 18+ only, mdni!!!! car sex, but they're in the middle of nowhere, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv (pls be smart); fem!reader a/n: alright this has been in the works for fuckin forever, but it's finally done!! i hope it lives up to the hype lol. huge shoutout to @harringtonswriting for the original idea forever ago, and to @stevebabey for listening to me cry abt this for the past month and a half lol. enjoy!!!

Masterlist

huge thank you to @inkluvs for this^ cutie and to @t-lostinworlds for this gorgeous moodboard!!

It’s a surprisingly nice evening for summer in Indiana. There’s a warm breeze that kisses your cheeks and keeps you cool under the late afternoon sun. Perfect for one of Steve’s baseball games. The last few you went to were unbearably hot, so even though it’s still warm, and you’re still sweating a bit, this is much better. Not that you’re paying much attention to the weather with how close this game is. 

His team is up by two points in the top of the ninth, and there’s someone on base, but if they hold them off from scoring, they’ll win. Steve’s pitching, and you know he’s feeling a lot of pressure, especially since this is a pretty important game near the end of the season. But you also know that he’s totally got this. He’s been pitching so many strikeouts this game, and he can definitely do one more. 

He stands at the pitcher’s mound, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he squints at his catcher. He looks fucking beautiful, quite honestly. Tan skin glowing in the golden hour sun, the sleeves of his jersey tight around his biceps. Pretty hair tucked under his hat, the eyeblack he’d carefully applied before the game smeared across his cheeks. You might just have to jump his bones when the game is over. 

Steve gets into position, presses the ball into his glove, and takes a deep breath. You stand from your seat on the rusty bleachers, metal creaking underneath you, to get a better view of the field. Someone behind you — probably Jessica, another player’s girlfriend — huffs in annoyance, but you ignore her, too caught up in Steve, and sending him all of the good luck you can. He moves into his windup position, takes another deep breath, and sends the ball over the plate in a perfect strike that the batter watches go by. 

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and whistle loudly, earning you even more dirty looks from the people sitting around you. Half of them are supporters of the other team, so you can’t blame them, but you’re not going to quiet your support for your boyfriend. You know he can hear you — his eyes flick to yours for just a moment when he hears your whistle, and his mouth pulls up at one corner almost imperceptibly. He winks at you, subtle enough to go unnoticed by everyone else, but the cockiness makes you flustered and causes you to roll your eyes at the same time. 

The rest of the inning flies by with a pop-up to right field that’s easily caught by Steve’s teammate, and another strikeout pitched by Steve — one that the batter watches go by. You’d cheered again, even louder than before, and blew him a kiss as he ran off the field. 

Now you’re waiting for him, not so patiently, on the bleachers. You usually have to wait a bit while the team debriefs, and while you don’t mind most of the time, you’re feeling antsy today. You want him in more ways than one, and you don’t know how much longer you can wait. Thankfully, due to a good game and short debrief, it’s not too long until the players start filtering off of the field. Steve is always one of the last ones out, but you stand up in search of him anyway. 

“Harrington!” you shout Steve’s name as he exits the dugout, waving a hand in the air as you bounce on the balls of your feet excitedly. 

Hearing the sound of your voice, Steve’s head whips in your direction, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen is on his face. He gives you a wave before turning back to the teammate he’d walked out with, saying something you can’t make out as he slaps his back and then makes a beeline for you. After the game, his uniform is awry; jersey half tucked in, hat on backwards, and he’s so sweaty, but somehow, you don’t mind. His bat bag is slung over his shoulder, but it’s quickly dumped on the ground as he approaches you in favor of scooping you up into his arms, “Baby!”

You let out a shriek and throw your arms around his neck as he lifts you off of the ground. Your toes are barely an inch from the grass, but it’s enough to have you clutching onto him. He’s still sweaty, having just come off the field, but you don’t mind. “Steve! You did so good, baby!”

Steve sets you back on your feet, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead with another blinding grin, “Thanks, honey. All for you.” His hands are still looped around your waist, resting gently against the small of your back. “Heard you cheering the entire game.”

“Yeah?” you ask, returning his grin as your fingers trace along the neckline of his jersey. “Good. Matt’s girlfriend kept giving me dirty looks for cheering so loud, but I think she’s just jealous her boyfriend isn’t as hot or talented as mine. I’ve got an all-star. The MVP.”

Dark pink colors Steve’s face from his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears, even though he’s still smiling at you, “Stop it. I’m not—“

“Don’t even start!” you quickly cut him off, placing a finger against his lips, “If I remember correctly, it was you who pitched a bunch of strikeouts, and held them off in the last inning. I’m so proud of you.” 

He wants to argue, but you’re staring at him full of pride, so he gives in. His cheeks are still flushed pink as he smiles at you, pursing his lips to kiss the finger still pressed to his lips, “Thanks, baby. Love you so much. Couldn’t do it without you.”

You know that’s not true — you show up to all of his games, and sometimes you pack him extra snacks and water, but that’s about it. He’s the one who puts in all of the hard work during practice, at games, and during all of the other time he uses to improve. You are really proud of him, in every single way, and you want to let him know. Threading your fingers into the damp hair at the nape of Steve’s neck, you lean up on your toes to whisper in his ear, “I think the MVP deserves a prize. What do you think, handsome?”

Steve’s eyes grow wide, hands spreading over your hips to keep your body flush to his. He stumbles over his words when he finally speaks, “Shit, baby, I-I… yeah, okay.”

Leaning up on your toes, you give Steve a grin before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Should we go?”

“Oh, definitely,” Steve nods quickly, leaning into you for a kiss. He kisses you with just enough force that you bend at the waist slightly, giggling against his lips as you grasp at his shoulders. 

“Okay, okay. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you push at him gently, though you’re grinning when he pulls back. 

He lets out a soft huff, eyes narrowing playfully at you as he grabs his bat bag and hoists it up over his shoulder again. He’s quick to start the trek back to his car, turning to face you as he walks backward with a cheeky grin on his face. His arms are held out to his sides as he calls, “You comin’ with me or what, babe?”

Not wanting him to get too far ahead, you jog to catch up to him, slipping your hand into his as your shoulders bump, “You don’t even know what the prize is, Stevie.”

Scoffing, Steve turns to you with a smug and knowing smile on his lips, “Oh, I know what it is.” Still, he’s gentle with you, giving your hand a soft squeeze and throwing a ridiculously exaggerated wink your way to make you smile. He dumps his gear into the trunk of his car, letting it close with a loud thud as he turns to you, arms caging your body against the side of his car. His breath is hot on your neck as he dips down so his lips ghost over the skin just below your ear, “The prize… it’s not actually a physical prize, right?”

You can’t help it — you let out a laugh, head tilting back as you wrap your arms around Steve’s neck to draw him in closer, “Depends on what you mean by physical…” 

“Baby,” Steve groans with a laugh, taking advantage of your exposed skin by pressing wet kisses up the side of your neck and along your jaw. You want to reply with another sarcastic remark, but your breath hitches as his teeth graze your skin. So, instead, you cup his jaw in your hands and pull his mouth to yours for a kiss. 

-

The sun is starting to smolder low in the sky, nearly sinking beneath the horizon to cast the sky in pretty oranges and pinks as Steve finally pulls out of the parking lot and heads for your shared apartment. His hand reaches over the center console to rest on your thigh, a warm, heavy weight on your bare skin. He’s already been causing trouble, with the way he’d kissed you against the car, and you have a feeling you’re not going to make it home in a timely manner. 

Music is playing on the radio, something top 40 that Steve is humming under his breath as he drives. You’re having a hard time figuring out what the song is with the way his fingertips press into the softness of your inner thigh and brush up ever so slightly. Sucking in a breath, you glance in his direction, only to find that aside from the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly, he’s keeping any indication of what he’s thinking off of his face. 

He looks so pretty in the golden light streaming in through the windows that it’s almost hard to believe he’s real. Reaching out across the gap between you, you tuck a few strands of his messy hair behind his ear and then drag the pad of your thumb across his jaw. You trace over a few of the cute moles scattered over his face and wish you could kiss each and every single one of them, but he’s a bit too far away. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you let a lock of his hair slip from your fingers back into its place. 

At the forlorn sound, Steve’s eyes flick from the road over to you as he laughs under his breath. He twists just a little bit further to press a kiss to the delicate skin on the inside of your wrist, and though he’s pretty sure he knows the answer, he asks, “What, sweetheart?”

“I think I might combust if I can’t kiss you or touch you within the next minute.” 

Steve lets out a laugh, breath hitching as your own hand drops from his hair to his thigh, “We’re like ten minutes from home, honey.” He’s trying his best to stay casual, but he’s feeling about the same as you, especially with your hand on him now. 

“Can’t wait ten minutes, baby. Want you now. Don’t you want your prize?”

“Jesus christ,” he huffs out quickly, hazarding a glance to the hand on his thigh that’s creeping upwards before scanning the road, “Alright, okay, baby, just— just let me pull over. Fuck.”

There aren’t many perks to living in the middle of nowhere Indiana, but if you have to pick one, being able to pull over pretty much anywhere you want to fuck your boyfriend in the front seat of his car is definitely up there. It takes a moment before Steve spots a secluded area and pulls off of the road, dirt and gravel crunching under the tires as he rolls to a stop. The second his car is in park, you unbuckle your seatbelt and nearly launch yourself over the center console into Steve’s lap. 

He laughs in surprise, but it’s cut off by your mouth on his, kissing him like it might be your last chance. There’s not much room in the front seat, and you huff as your knees press into the console and the door on either side of his lap, the skirt of the dress you’re wearing riding up your thighs. It’s not exactly comfortable, but you quickly become too distracted by Steve — his lips pressed to your neck in a bruising kiss, his hardening cock underneath you — to care. And the way he’s gripping your hips to pull you closer isn’t helping. 

Your hips roll forward as you press closer to him, drawing stuttering breaths from both of you. It feels like his hands are everywhere, sliding up your exposed thighs to your waist, warm even through the fabric of your dress, before traveling further up your body to cup your breasts. You’d had to forgo a bra in this dress, and Steve isn't oblivious to this fact; he’d noticed right away, and was going to take advantage of that. 

Wet kisses press to your collarbone as he dips lower, fingers sliding under the thin straps of your dress to tug them off your shoulders, “Looked so pretty in the stands today, baby. Y’always do, but this pretty little dress…” He all but groans, pulling the top of your dress down your chest. More kisses trail along your exposed flesh, the dull scrape of his teeth followed by another hickey pulls a gasp from you. 

With his mouth on you, he’s making it real hard to form a coherent sentence, “Christ, Steve— we can’t— don’t have time for—“ 

A sharp tug to the hair at the nape of his neck finally gets his attention, and he pops back up with a huff, narrowing his eyes playfully at you, “Sorry. Sorry. Not my fault you’ve got perfect tits, honey.” He squeezes your breasts as if to make a point, not quite roughly, but not gently either, thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Steve,” you admonish playfully with a roll of your eyes, slapping at his chest. You giggle, though, leaning forward to kiss him again. Your fingers work at the buttons on his jersey as you kiss. It’s not really a necessity, but you want to feel his warm, golden skin and the hair on his chest, kiss the moles that are littered on his torso. Your fingers trail down his chest, and you can feel it heave at your light touches, a stuttering breath as you inch closer to his pants. 

After unbuttoning his pants and pulling down the zipper, the two of you shuffle around in the front seat to get his pants and underwear down enough to free his cock. Your hand wraps around the base, a gentle touch as you stroke up his length. Precum leaks from the tip, messy on your hand as your thumb rubs over his slit. Steve hisses at the touch, hips trying to push up into your hand, “Shit, honey—“

“Feel good?” you ask, a bit smug as you twist your wrist mid-stroke. 

“So good. Need— ah— wanna touch you, too, babe. Lemme…” Steve trails off and one hand presses into the small of your back, reaching down behind you with the other one to pull the lever on the seat. The seat slides all the way back to give you more room, but it moves quickly, leaving you scrambling to hold onto Steve and his jersey. He laughs at your surprised expression, hands moving to settle on your thighs, “That’s better. More room.”

His palms slide up the lengths of your thighs, thumbs brushing against the innermost part until they slip under your flowy dress and bump into the fabric of your underwear. One finger slips just underneath the lacy trim at the edge, running back and forth lightly, “Can I?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding quickly as Steve’s fingers press into the wet spot forming on your panties. “Please, baby.” 

He rubs your clit softly through your underwear once, twice, and just before you’re about to complain, his fingers hook into the fabric and tug it to the side, tracing up your slit, “Already so wet for me, huh?” 

“You– fuck– you look so hot in your uniform, baby, ‘s not my fault,” you huff, shifting your hips to try to get him right where you want him. 

Steve’s fingers dip back down, circling your entrance in a teasing touch before two ease into your cunt. He’s slow with it, almost infuriatingly so, as he spreads you open. You gasp into the crook of his neck, only just remembering that this is supposed to be about him, and resume the slow stroke of your hand on his cock. The air is filled with soft breaths as you touch each other, Steve’s breath warm against your skin, and it’s all you can hear, even though the radio is still playing quietly. 

When his fingers curl inside of you, pressing into the perfect spot, you whine, “Want you inside of me, Stevie. Need you.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a grin, bringing his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. He hums around his fingers, pulling them from his lips with a small pop sound, “Taste so good, honey.” 

Pleasure twists low in your tummy at the sight of his fingers in his mouth, at his dirty words, and you whimper. You can’t wait much longer, so you don’t, shifting up onto your knees the best you can in the tight space without bumping into the roof of Steve’s car. One of your hands slides over Steve’s shoulder, keeping yourself steady as you slip the other hand between your bodies to line Steve up with your entrance. 

Warm hands rest at your hips, fingers splaying out wide to hold you as you sink down onto Steve’s cock slowly. You both moan softly, your thighs shaking as you lower yourself until he’s fully inside of you. There’s always an aching stretch, and it takes a moment for you to adjust, gasping into the crook of Steve’s neck, “Shit, Stevie, you– you’re so big, fuck.” 

Steve laughs, a breathless sound, hands flexing against your skin as he fights the urge to thrust his hips up, “Y’sure know how to sweet talk.” 

“Shut up,” you huff playfully, curling your fingers into the fabric of his jersey as you rock your hips forward once. Steve lets out his own strangled, gasping noise at the sudden movement and you grin, feeling smug. 

You lift yourself back up slightly, a sweet, slow drag of his cock through your tight cunt, and then rock back down, grinding into him. Steve swears under his breath, hands moving from your hips to your ass to help you fuck yourself on his cock. It takes a moment, but you settle into a rhythm with Steve’s help, circling your hips against his, back and forth, up and down. Your thighs start to burn from the effort, but it’s worth it for the dazed look Steve has on his face. 

“Christ, babe,” he mutters, squeezing your ass as he presses wet kisses across your chest, “ridin’ me like a champ. So good for me.”

You clench around him at his praise, moaning in a way that should be embarrassing, but you’re too far gone to care. Your fingers travel up from the collar of his jersey to his hair, curling into the strands at the nape of his neck under his cap, and you surge forward to kiss him. It’s messy, your lips sliding against his in an open-mouthed kiss. 

It’s so hot in the car that between the warm summer air and the warmth radiating from your bodies, the windows of the car start to fog up. If anyone were to see the car, they’d know exactly what was happening, but thankfully, there’s likely no one around for miles. Sweat beads at Steve’s hairline as he begins to thrust his hips up to meet yours, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your ass hard enough that it might leave bruises. You falter as his hips smack yours with a filthy sound, pushing your face into Steve’s warm shoulder as you moan, “Steve, fuck��� ’m close— oh god, I need—”

“I got you, baby,” he mumbles into your skin, his breath fanning across your shoulder, making you shiver. One strong arm hooks around your waist while his other hand finds its way between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with the thrust of his hips. He’s babbling, praises for you spilling from his pretty, pink lips, “Look so pretty on my cock, baby, takin’ me so well, yeah? Fuck, I love you so much, you’re perfect. So fuckin’ tight for me, y’close, huh? Gonna cum for me?” 

You can feel the way he twitches as you clench around his cock, your thighs tight against his hips, entire body tensing as pleasure washes over you. Your chest pushes into his as you tip over the edge, slick skin against slick skin, “Oh god, fuckfuckfuck.” 

The thrust of Steve’s hips up into yours grows sloppy, but he doesn’t let up, thumb swiping over your clit as you ride out your high. He’s not far behind you, groaning your name into the crook of your neck as he cums hard. You have enough of a mind to continue to rock your hips against his until he’s spent, breathing hard. 

His hand on your back pushes under your sundress, stroking up the curve of your spine gently, a soft and intimate touch. It’s silent as you both try to catch your breath, trading soft kisses on damp skin and parted lips. 

You speak first, a small laugh as you push your sticky chest off of Steve’s, “Holy shit, it’s hot in here.”

“Yeah it is,” he says with a cheeky grin, giving your ass a rough squeeze as his gaze dips down to your breasts. He leans forward, pressing another soft kiss to the swell of your breast, just above the nipple, making you shiver. He all but giggles at your reaction and leans back into his seat, with a heaving breath, “Fuck, it is hot, though. Lemme open the windows.” 

Reaching over with one hand, Steve opens the driver-side window, letting in the cool evening air. It feels nice on your warm skin, and you close your eyes, turning your face into the breeze. You can feel his eyes on you, and when you look back at him, he’s still staring at you, eyes a soft honey color in the last of the sunlight. 

“I love you,” you say, quietly, almost shy. 

“I love you, more, honey,” he replies easily, a grin breaking out on his face.

You kiss him one last time before pushing up off of his lap, wincing as he slips out of you. Shuffling backwards, you pull your underwear back into place, and tug the top of your dress back up your chest, adjusting the straps. Steve helps you back over the console into the passenger seat before fixing his own clothes. You’re still flushed, so you quickly roll your own window down and stick your arm out. Your fingers flutter in the breeze as Steve pulls back into the main road, turning the volume of the radio up. 

Steve’s hand reaches out towards you, settling on your thigh once again, though maybe a bit more innocently this time. You rest your hand over his, your fingers curling between his as you tease, “Hope you enjoyed your prize, MVP.”

He laughs, head tipping back against his seat, hand squeezing your thigh gently, “Shit, babe, after that, I think you deserve the MVP title.” 

-

a few other tags hehe

@underoossss @sattlersquarry

[dreamwatch]

Hello, I've Waited Here For You

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #18 - Prompt: Freak | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: period typical attitudes to women, period typical homophobia, internalised fat shaming, period typical sexism, sexist language | POV: Matt (Freak) | Pairing: Steddie, Matt/OC | Tags: Falling in love, CC is a family, secret relationship

I hope this makes up for yesterday.

Matt has always liked girls. Sadly, girls didn’t hold him in the same high regard.

He’s not an idiot. Yes, they were freaks in high school, no one liked them, boo hoo, but even then he was the odd one out. Because Jeff was seeing that irritating mathlete for a while there, Gareth went on a couple of dates with Samantha-what’s-her-face, and Eddie had actual women hanging off him at The Hideout, though he always seemed pissy about it. Fuck, even Henderson and Wheeler had girlfriends, though they don’t live in Indiana.

Actually, yeah, that’s probably bullshit.

And Matt? Nothing. If he looks at a girl he gets a curled lip and a side eye for his troubles. Because no one wants the fat dude. So he doesn’t talk about girls, and the boys don’t ask. It’s a pleasant status quo.

When they move to LA and start playing proper gigs in proper venues, suddenly girls are interested. But there’s a hierarchy.

The really pretty ones attach themselves like limpets to Eddie and Jeff. The shy ones hang around trying to catch Gareth’s eye. And then the bored friends who struck out with everyone else will rock up to Matt like they’re doing him a favour. It really fucks him off. But he’s a nineteen-year-old virgin and it’s slim pickings.

So he leans into it.

He doesn’t exactly sleep around, but if the opportunity presents then he’s not saying no. Girls come to a gig, they queue up for their spoils, the guys do whatever it is they do, and Matt gives some bored hanger-on a good time. 

But he rallies, chin up, he’s going to be a rockstar, women are going to be pounding down his hotel room door, and he’s going to be swimming in pussy. Really bored, would-rather-be-washing-their-hair pussy.

Jeff moves in with his new girlfriend, a sweet student named Melody. She’s going to leave him when she realises he doesn’t understand the concept of putting the toilet seat down.

Gareth moves his girlfriend in to make up the rent. It’s a fucking disaster, and they all fight constantly. In the end, they all go their separate ways: Gareth and the girlfriend in one direction, Eddie and Matt in another.

The new place is ok. Eddie is weird when it comes to girls. He lets them paw at him a little before he gets antsy, like an overstimulated cat. Like he wants it but doesn’t at the same time. So the apartment is girl-free, everyone goes to bed early, and by the way, did he mention he was going to be a rockstar?

Another backstage, another endless stream of girls pawing over all the bands, and another night of Matt nursing a beer and being ignored.

He’s thinking of leaving when he sees her.

She’s sitting in a dark corner on her own, black leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and long hair that looks dark pink under the lighting. He wants to find out what colour it really is. She glances at him occasionally, before looking away as if she’s trying not to get caught.

He’s never done this. Never approached a girl. He’s always left it to them to come to him. But she’s beautiful, and they’re only in town this one night.

“Uh, are you with anyone?”

She nods. “Yeah, um, Sandy. She’s over there with Eddie.” 

Sure enough, Eddie’s looking exasperated while Sandy practically climbs in his lap. Matt laughs. 

“She won’t be long, trust me. What’s your name?”

“Lily.”

“I’m—“

“Matt.” She smiles, shyly. “I know who you are.”

Damn. 

“Matty! Hurry the fuck up!”

“I’m trying!! This fucking—“ he scrabbles at the bow tie and yanks it off for the fifth time. Fucking thing is ruined. 

Eddie slaps his hands out of the way. “Let me look.” He scowls. “Jesus— why did we think we could do this? We wear fucking t-shirts for a living for Christ’s sake.”

There’s a knock on the door before Steve Harrington pokes his head inside the room.

“Hey, sorry, but the bride-to-be just arrived.”

“Oh fuck.” Matt can feel his insides flopping around like they’re looking for the exit. Why is he doing this, why is she doing this? She’s so beautiful and she could have anyone but—

“Hey! No zoning out, we don’t have time!” snaps Eddie. He glances at Steve. “Do you know how to tie these things?”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

He can’t figure his life out at all. In eight years he’s gone from school freak to minor rock star, he’s marrying a beautiful girl, and to top it all off, Steve Harrington’s tying his bow tie. Is he high?

“There ya go, you look awesome man.” Steve claps him on the arm. “I’ll see you out there,” he says, but Matt doesn’t miss how he looks at Eddie as he says it. 

Then it’s just the two of them.

There are a lot of things he wants to say to Eddie. He’ll get round to some of them later when he’s blind drunk and crying. But he needs to be sober for this.

“Just one of us left.”

Eddie smiles sadly. “Well, you know me, confirmed bachelor.”

“You know… if there was something you wanted to tell us. That— that you thought you couldn’t—”

Eddie shakes his head. “Matty—”

“—just listen. Please.”

Eddie freezes, eyes fixed on the floor.

“We love you. And if there was anything you ever wanted to tell us, we would be over the fucking moon to hear about it. And… and Steve’s a good guy.”

Eddie looks like a deer caught in a trap and Matt hates it. Hates that Eddie feels he can’t share the most important part of his life with them because the world is so shitty he couldn’t even be sure his best friends would be okay about it. So it stops now. 

They’re a family. Gareth and Bonnie, and Jeff and Melody, and Matt and Lily. And Eddie and Steve. 

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 6

@anne-bennett-cosplayer I hope this is enough time to recover from that last line. It's technically been 3 business days.

That last line was mean, and I'm sorry. So for being so mean, here's Claudia Henderson with some very tough love for Eddie.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Eddie had done some serious groveling that night. He didn’t know how he could make up for all the hell he’d put Steve through. How does one even begin to make up for a decade worth of shitty behavior?

Especially since it was clear that the one thing that would make it all worth it was if Eddie came back to Steve and he couldn’t do that. Not to Chrissy. Not when she needed him the most.

He did the only thing he could think of and talk to the people who still cared about Steve. He started with Claudia Henderson. Even though she wasn’t Steve’s birth mother, she was more his mom then that shrew ever was.

She gathered him into a hug when he showed up on her doorstep.

“I was wondering when your shadow would darken my doorway,” Claudia said, as she lead the way to the kitchen.

Eddie winced at the harsh words even if they gently given. He looked around the small house, Dustin’s mark stamped on every corner even though he had moved out long ago. But more surprisingly was Steve’s touch had found its way into the decor. And not just his photos on the wall either.

It was in the Pacers blanket on the loveseat, the baseball bat by the front door, the bright yellow pillows on the sofa. Steve was loved here and god did that make Eddie’s heart ache.

He sat down at his usual spot at the counter and watched as she bustled around the kitchen getting him cookies and glass of milk.

“Why are you even here, Eddie?” she asked in that tough but loving way she always had. “You broke his heart and then threw it away.”

Eddie took bite of the cookie to give him time to formulate an answer. “Because I know I fucked up, okay? But the only way I can see to fix it is to come back to him and I can’t do that. I can’t tell you why, just know she’s in trouble and this is the only option we have.”

Claudia let out a long sigh and leaned on the counter. “You always did know the right things to say.”

“Not when it comes to him,” he scoffed, staring down at his milk like it would give him the answers. “I keep making it worse.”

She hummed her agreement. “That’s certainly true. But I think that was more about you trying to protect your heart from getting hurt, only you ended up hurting his instead.”

Eddie just dunked his cookie without comment, because he knew she was right. It was never about Steve. It was about all the people who hated him, who strung him along until they had their fun, about his mom dying and his dad leaving, about the band deciding they just didn’t want to do it anymore.

He loved being a tattoo artist, but that wasn’t the dream.

“What would you do or tell Dusty if it was him you’d come to see after a decade apart?” Claudia asked, looking up at him.

Eddie sat back in the stool and sighed. “How much I missed him and then I would try to spend as much time with him as possible.”

“There you have it,” she said. She straightened up and knocked on the counter twice. “The bakery is closed Fridays and the carnival is in town. Why don’t you take him and get to know who he is now, all right?”

He rubbed his face and sighed again. “Yeah, if he’ll even go with me. He probably already has a hot date lined up, though.”

Claudia shook her head. “At least not that he’s told me, anyway. In fact he was lamenting that he was thinking about not going because Robin had a date, but he didn’t and he didn’t want to third wheel it.”

That was so like Steve. Instead of finding someone to go with him, like a friend or something, he would just not go. Tell them to have fun without him.

“I guess the worse that could happen is have him curse me out and hang up,” Eddie said with wry smile. “And considering I’ve already had the pleasure once, a second time isn’t going to change much.”

She lifted her chin. “Well go on, then. If you think he’s going to cuss you out, call him. I want to see this.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at her like a petulant child. But did as he was told.

“Hey, Eds,” Steve greeted, picking up the phone almost immediately.

His heart stuttered in his chest at the old nickname. “Hey, Stevie. I hear the carnival was in town this week and wanted to see if you want to go.”

“With you? Or with a group or whatever?” Steve asked, his voice pitching a little higher than normal.

“Just me,” Eddie confirmed. “When would be good for you?” He looked up at Claudia who had the smuggest grin on her face. He stuck his tongue out at her again.

“Oh, I–um...” he stammered. “Well, I was thinking of opening the shop on Friday even though I don’t usually because I was closed on Sunday.”

Eddie winced. He had a pretty good idea why Steve’s shop was closed on Sunday. Steve had called to bitch him out on Saturday evening when the special courier delivered the annulment papers. Something the law firm had paid for so they wouldn’t lose their best legal assistant.

“But sure, I could use a proper day off for a change,” Steve was saying when Eddie’s brain finally came back on. “How about two o’clock?”

“That’d be great,” he said a small, fond smile on his face. “I can’t wait. I haven’t been to a proper carnival in years.”

“Perks of living in a small town, I guess,” Steve replied.

Eddie started playing with his hair. “One of the few. Can’t say I’m a fan of the homophobia.”

Steve laughed, bright and sweet. “Yeah, okay. You got me there. Look I’ve got to go, Robin’s giving me the stink eye and I really should get back to work.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I talk to you later.” He hung up and refused to look Claudia in the eye. He knew what he was going to see anyway. Her arms crossed over her chest and a triumphant smile on her face.

“I don’t believe I heard any cursing on that call,” she said dryly. He looked up at her and he as right about everything about how she was looking at him, only with the addition of a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah well,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. “He always was a stubborn bastard and having to prove me wrong.”

Claudia’s face crumpled a bit. Because yes, Eddie had done a lot of harm to their relationship, Steve wasn’t exactly blameless in the whole ordeal. Because Max’s situation aside, Eddie was right that ‘the kids’ had families and parents of their own. That they had people who would look out for them. And if Steve hadn’t stepped up in Max’s case, she sure as hell would have. The awkwardness between Max and Dustin be damned.

If Steve had loved Eddie as much as he claimed, he wouldn’t have tried to force the metalhead to chose between his friends and his husband.

“He is that,” she admitted gently. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you two. You were always a better person when you were together, than when you were apart. And yes, he’s struggled a lot since you left, but looking at you now, I can see that the years haven’t been kind to you either.”

Eddie huffed. “That’s what Uncle Wayne said. That I lost my sparkle or whatever.”

Claudia came around the corner and wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back tight.

“Your uncle is right, sweetie,” she murmured into his hair. “We only want you to be happy and it doesn’t feel like you are. You say you’re getting married, but where’s the bounce in your step and the smile that won’t stop? Like when you and Steve had come back from a week vacation married if only in the state of Massachusetts.”

He let out a shuddering breath and then another. Soon he was just sobbing. Crying like he couldn’t stop.

Eddie had never wanted to hurt Steve and he was sure Steve felt the same about him.

She soothed him with whispered assurances and stroking his hair. Soon enough he had slowed to a hiccuping sniffle and Claudia stepped back so she could look him in the eyes.

“I have a pretty good idea what’s really going on,” she said firmly. “And you’re being really sweet, but before you do something you regret, spend time in town. Take a look at the things that have changed and all the ones that haven’t. Then decide if it’s still the right thing to do.”

He gulped. He had no doubt that she had figured it out. She was Claudia Fucking Henderson, of course she did.

“You won’t tell anyone,” Eddie asked, tears threatening to spill again, “will you?”

She shook her head. “No, your secret is safe with me. I won’t make things harder on you then they need to be.”

She hugged him again and Eddie felt like he was home for the first time in over five years.

****

“Just where are you taking me, old man?” Eddie teased. He had met his uncle for lunch after being emotionally rung out at the Henderson place.

“You need a pick me up,” Wayne said, “and I need my afternoon brownie. Come along.”

Eddie came to an abrupt stop. “Um...I’ll wait out here, then.”

Wayne looked up at the shop’s sign and then back at him. “Look, son, you’re going to have to face him eventually. Especially with you going to carnival together and all.”

Eddie dug his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and followed Wayne dutifully into the bakery.

“Hey Mr. Munson!” Steve greeted cheerfully. “You here for your usual?”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Wayne’?” he asked with a chuckle, walking up the to counter.

Steve blushed and hung his head. “I guess I’m just old fashioned.” He cleared his throat and straightened up. “So what can I get you and your shadow today?”

Wayne reared his head back and then looked over his shoulder to see Eddie hanging back, but sticking as close to him as possible.

“That’ll be two monsters, one of your apple fritters, and a half dozen of your snickerdoodles,” he said shaking his head. Then he turned to Eddie. “And what do you want?”

Eddie’s eyes nearly burst out of his head. Steve and Wayne laughed.

“I suppose I should have said ‘what else do you want?’” Wayne clarified.

Eddie blushed and peered around Wayne’s shoulder to look into the case. “A peanut butter madness, please.”

Steve’s face lit up with delight. “These are the ones Jeff’s mom was slandering with having them stale. They are so much better warm out of the oven. In fact, here!” He grabbed it out of the case and wandered to the back.

He came out a few moments later. Eddie nearly melted from the tantalizing scent of warm brownie filled the air.

“What did you do?” Eddie cried as he reached out with grabby hands.

Steve handed it to him. “Careful, it’s hot. I microwaved it for thirty seconds. Should be perfect now.”

Eddie cautious bite and moaned as soon as the peanut butter hit his mouth. He savored every bit of that first bite. “Fuck, Stevie. These should be a sin.”

Steve smiled and then got to work on the rest of Wayne’s order as Eddie devoured every inch of that brownie.

“How long are you in town for, Eds?” he asked as he handed over the boxes to Wayne.

Eddie grabbed a paper napkin from the dispenser by the register and wiped off his hands and mouth of the gooey remains.

“I’ve got to back by Monday,” he said, a tad mournfully. He never thought he’d miss this place after spending so long running from it. The town. Not the bakery. Though he had spent a lot of his time running from its owner, too.

Steve’s own smile faltered a bit too. “Not even a whole week, huh? I guess there really is no rest for the wicked.”

They chatted for a bit before more customers came in and Steve had to get back to work. Eddie and Wayne walked out of the shop laden with goodies. Steve had divided them up for Eddie and Wayne separately. Wayne handed Eddie his box.

“Now was that so terrible?” he asked with big grin.

“No.”

Because it really wasn’t. In fact it was kinda nice just chatting with Steve.

Leaving was looking more and more bleak with each passing moment.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List:

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @vecnuthy @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

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

7- @blackpanzy @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras

8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @mac-attack19 @blondie1006

[ihni]

It's @weird-an's birthday, so have a little Argilly (!) (yeah I know!) piece inspired by this post.

This piece is written to be read around the time they release season 5, because whatever shit they come up with to happen in Hawkins, our forgotten boys will just be living their best life in Cali.

~~~

Billy wakes up slowly, gaining awareness in increments. The softness of the sheet underneath him, the sounds of the traffic interspersed with voices coming from outside, the warmth of the air in the room and from the body behind him. Taking a deep breath, he stretches until his joints pop and then releases the air in a content sigh as he becomes boneless once again, turning around and snuggling up to the man behind him. Tucking his head in under the man’s chin, still without opening his eyes.

There’s a chuckle. Billy can feel the vibrations through the body he’s clinging to, and can’t help but smile.

“How long have you been awake?” he murmurs, and hums contentedly when a big hand splays out over the back of his head, scratching lazily at his nape.

“A while,” comes Argyle’s voice from close by, and Billy feels a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, then yawns.

“You’re cute when you sleep,” is the answer.

“I’m cute all the time.”

A laugh, and Billy can feel Argyle move as he nods. “Truth. But especially when you sleep. Also, we’re not in a rush. We can stay here all day, if we want.”

Billy starts to nod along, but then stops. Reluctantly blinks his eyes open. “Not all day. We’re meeting Tommy later, remember? You promised you’d show him all the best burger places in town.”

“Yeah but that’s not until the afternoon,” Argyle argues. “We have hours to go before then.” A pause. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.”

Billy considers. It’s still a luxury to be able to wake up at his own pace, and not have to hurry to get ready in the morning. It’s also not until recently that he has started sleeping through the night, with the nightmares being less frequent the longer he spends away from their source.

Two years. Two years since he clawed his way back to the real world, two years since he stopped having to sleep with one eye open, two years since fate – perhaps as an apology for everything it had put Billy through – brought Argyle to that godawful Indiana town. (No one could tell who was most surprised to see the other; Argyle, who had been told that Billy had died in a fire, or Billy, who hadn’t thought he’d ever get out of that hellish place at all. Their reunion was emotional and tearful and came as a shock to everyone else, who hadn’t even known that they knew each other. But honestly fuck everyone else.)

It has been two years now since Billy sat down in the passenger’s seat of Argyle’s van and went back to California without looking back; his only goodbye being a middle finger aimed at the ‘Leaving Hawkins’ sign as they passed, while Argyle’s hand rested on his thigh, gripping Billy’s other hand in his.

Two years later, and here Billy is, in bed with Argyle; his best friend, his lover, his Aggy. There are no monsters anymore, there is no Neil to be wary of. He is safe, he is warm, and he can go back to sleep if he wants.

Does he want that, though? He frowns. Something tickles his mind, like a half-forgotten memory. He dreamt something, he realizes, but trying to remember what it was is like trying to capture mist in his hands. It slips between his fingers like smoke, but still leaves him feeling vaguely uncomfortable.

Argyle, like always, notices. “What is it, Bee?” he asks, and hugs Billy closer. “Nightmare?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says, truthfully. “I don’t remember.”

Argyle hums. “You were moving around a lot. Talking in your sleep again.”

“Really?” Billy says. It’s been a while since he did that. “What did I say?”

“Just murmurs. No real words. You sounded kinda worried, though.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t remember.”

Billy rolls back a bit and puts his head on the pillow. He immediately misses Argyle’s warmth, but Argyle keeps his hand on the back of Billy’s head, playing with his hair, and at least this way he can look at Argyle’s face.

He’s beautiful. Big and strong and soft, with his sunshine smile that never fails to make Billy feel all warm inside and his long hair that somehow always looks perfect even right after waking, unlike Billy’s. There’s a mark on Argyle’s cheek from a crease in the pillow, and Billy wants to kiss it.

Argyle’s smile – widening at the sight of Billy, which will always be a thrill – is contagious, and Billy finds himself smiling too.

“’Mornin’, Aggy,” he says and leans forward to place a kiss on Argyle’s lips.

“’Mornin’, Bee,” Argyle replies and smiles into the kiss.

They lean their foreheads together and breathe for a while. Then Argyle stretches out too, like a big cat. Billy seizes his opportunity to plop himself on top of Argyle, who just laughs and puts his arms around him, pulling him closer. Chest against chest, Billy moves with Argyle’s expanding lungs as he inhales. It is soothing, and he tries to relax. But he doesn’t quite succeed – the remnants of the dream is still lurking in the back of his head.

Of course, Argyle notices. “Bee?” And of course, he knows what’s Billy’s thinking. “Do you think it’s got something to do with, you know, all that stuff from a couple of years ago?” He doesn’t even say ‘Hawkins’ out loud, because he knows how Billy feels about that town. It is just another reason to love him.

Billy wants to say no. Wants to reject it out loud, because all that is over. But that nagging feeling in his brain stops him. “I don’t know,” he admits. Argyle knows about the nightmares, about the dreams. He has met El after all, and knows what she can do – and he knows about the times, right after they got back to California, when Billy and El’s dreams merged. It has stopped now, thankfully. Or, he thought it did.

“Do you think something’s … wrong?” Argyle asks. His voice is neutral, but Billy knows him well. He knows what Argyle went through, too; what he had to see and live through on his way across the country two years ago.

And Billy decides, then and there, that “No. Nothing’s wrong.” Because they’ve had enough, him and Argyle. They’ve done their part. Billy has served his time; he paid the price, survived, got out and got away. The people they left back in Hawkins – none of whom cared enough about him to try to save him, by the way – could have left too. If they stayed around for the next wave of horror, that’s their choice.

Hawkins can burn to the ground, for all that Billy cares. If something’s about to go down there, Billy doesn’t want to be involved. Doesn’t even want to know about it.

“Okay,” Argyle says and pats Billy’s shoulder. As if he knows what Billy’s thinking. He probably does.

“And if it is,” Billy says, petulantly. Makes sure to say it out loud, so that the powers that be can hear his refusal. “If something is wrong .... If something goes down, back there? I don’t give a fuck.”

“Right on.” Argyle chuckles and kisses his curls. Hugs Billy even closer, trapping him against his chest and making him feel … small, and safe, and cared for. Something that Billy has only ever felt with Argyle, outside of when he was a child and his mother was still around. “Right on, my dude.”

Billy huffs out a laugh, but wrinkles his nose in distaste at the same time. “Don’t call me ‘dude’ in bed. It’s weird.”

“But you are my dude, dude.” Billy tilts his head back so he can glare at him. It’s hard to maintain a façade of annoyance in the face of Argyle’s sparkling eyes, but he manages through sheer force of will. “My little man.”

“Stop it.”

“My bro.”

“Aggy.”

“Brochacho.”

“I will literally kill you.” But despite his words, which are an obvious lie to the both of them, he cannot stop the smile that blooms on his face, or the blush that follows when Argyle laughs and peppers his face with kisses.

“Sure you will, dude.” Argyle sees straight through him. He always has.

That doesn’t mean that Billy will just take this kind of disrespect lying down. He struggles out of Argyle’s grip – only succeeding because Argyle lets him – and rolls and crawls with grunts and mutters to the edge of the mattress. He pushes off the bed and gets to this feet, uncaring of the fact that he’s naked, and cocks a hip to the side while he points at Argyle, who’s still sprawled out in bed, grinning. “Just for that, breakfast is on you.”

Argyle just keeps smiling, even as he leans forward and hooks his own finger around Billy’s, shaking his hand a little. And damn it, Billy is charmed. As always. “Sure thing, Bee. Cold pizza?”

“Leftovers? You call me ‘dude’ in bed, and I get leftovers?”

“Tasty, tasty leftovers, though.”

Tasty leftovers. Breakfast with his Aggy, after waking up in bed with his Aggy, in the apartment he shares with his Aggy.

A look to the window reveals blue skies with barely any clouds. The leaflets on the palm tree just outside moves gently in the breeze. Billy knows that if he opens the window, he will smell car exhausts from the road and Chinese food from the restaurant across the street and a hint of decomposing trash from the dumpster around the corner … and under all that, the salty air blowing in from the ocean, barely two blocks away.

Life is good.

He releases Aggy’s finger and takes his hand instead, pulls him up until he’s standing. Pokes him in the middle of his chest and raises his eyebrows as he looks up at him. “I want garlic sauce on mine.”

Argyle salutes – lazily, and with the wrong hand – and says, “You got it,” before pressing another kiss to Billy’s face – forehead, this time – and walking past him to get out the bedroom. Argyle’s not wearing anything either, and Billy watches appreciatively as his behind disappears around the corner.

Whatever might go down in Hawkins, it’s got nothing to do with him anymore – him or Aggy.

Life is good for them, now. He’s not trading this for anything.

And with that, he files the fragments of the dream away to be forgotten and follows Argyle out into the kitchen for a cold pizza breakfast.

~~~

(And yes, Tommy has moved there too because he deserves some kind of appearance as well, so I'll just headcanon that he and Carol maybe have moved out there and is finding their feet out in the real world. He's gonna become fast friends with Billy and Argyle and become a cook or something.)

[penny00dreadful]

Somebody To Love - Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 AO3

Here we have it everyone! I hope you enjoy. This part includes Eddie's addict brain trying to trip him up, so if that might be a trigger for you, keep yourself safe.

Eddie was six months clean by the time Wayne flew back to Indiana. He would have flown back sooner, around the four month mark but temptation had reared its ugly head and Eddie broke the lock on his bathroom door, intentionally trapping himself inside and away when he’d found one stray pill under the rug in his studio space. 

He was alone.

No one was home. 

No one would be home for hours. 

Wayne was halfway across the city, Steve was at his own home, Chrissy was at a modelling gig, the boys were with their families.

It was a terrible, opportunistic coincidence.

The pill was tiny and white, covered in floor dirt and bits of hair, but it would go down easy enough. He’d be able to dry swallow it in less than a second. It was small enough. He could just take it and he’d probably pass for sober by the time they came back.

He had it in his hand. 

No one would know.

No one would ever know.

His hand was completely frozen, almost on another plane of existence. He couldn’t move. A part of him was banging against the cage doors telling him to just take it. He’d taken worse things before, this would be nothing. He was strong enough now to not spiral again. This was just one, not nearly the worst thing he’d ever done.

He’d promised to be good and he had been good. So why couldn’t he have this one thing?

Another part of him was firmly trying to keep the cage locked.

Think of Wayne.

Think of the boys.

Think of Chrissy.

Think of Steve.

Why should they get to judge him for making decisions about his own body, the beast cried out. He was his own person, this was his own life, who the fuck were they to try and make him do these things, take it!

They didn’t make him do anything. He made that decision on his own. They were supporting him through his own decision. Not forcing him to do anything. They were supporting him. He said he’d change. He promised.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Eds.

The beast repeated Steve’s words back to him, twisting and poisoning them. Steve didn’t think he could do this anyway so why was he bothering?

No.

No!

No!

Eddie bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood and the pain shocked him into action.

He threw the pill across the room. 

He didn’t know where it landed, he didn’t want to know. 

He’d run up the stairs as fast as he could, putting as much physical distance in between himself and that fucking pill as it was possible to do.

And he’d called Wayne, who’d called Steve.

It was maybe an hour later when the bathroom door was finally broken down and Wayne crawled into the empty tub with him and just held him while he wept quietly into his chest.

Steve appeared in the doorway some time later, letting him know it was gone and that Eddie would be spending a few nights with him and Robin while professionals came in to clear the house top to bottom, just in case.

Because there was a service for that apparently.

This was LA after all. 

Of course there was a service dedicated to quietly, covertly and methodically going through luxury houses to remove every last trace of temptation.

Of course there was.

It was another thing entirely to fully realise just where he’d be staying. 

Staying with Steve wasn’t an issue, they practically lived together whenever they went on tour anyway. They knew all of each other's habits, their quirks, their weird rituals. And he’d been to Steve’s house plenty of times so it wasn’t that either.

It was having to live in the space of one Robin Buckley. 

Steve’s Chrissy. 

He hadn’t met her very often, they just never tended to cross paths but whenever they did, Eddie got the distinct impression that she really, really didn’t like him. 

Though if he was in Robin’s position, watching everything he’d ever put Steve through… He probably wouldn’t like himself much either.

Steve had been running interference on them for two whole days, trying to stop Robin’s glares and snappy comments and trying to stop Eddie from retaliating too dramatically. Because if it’s one thing Eddie was terrible at, one major, major character flaw he had, it was holding his tongue around someone who did not like him.

But Steve had to leave them alone eventually. 

He was half way out the front door, begging the two of them not to murder each other while he was gone.

Robin crossed her arms and shot daggers in Eddie’s direction. “Non prometto niente.”

“Ti imploro.” Steve checked his watch again before raising his eyes back to Robin.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Now you two are just being rude.”

“Cazzo.” She spat at him.

“Robin!” Steve rubbed at his temples before pointing at her. “Play. Nice.” Without another word he slammed the door behind him, the sound echoing around them as they stood on opposite sides of the open plan house, like it was high noon in one of Wayne’s old westerns.

“Okay. Let's get it all out, Buckley now that the parent is gone." Eddie spread his arms out in front of him. "What precisely is your fucking issue with me?”

“My fucking issue is that I don’t like you,” Robin snapped, “that’s my fucking issue.”

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific than that,” Eddie snapped right back, “plenty of people don't like me."

"Shocking." She widened her eyes in mock surprise.

He gave her the middle finger. "Is it just the Steve thing or are there other reasons?"

She scoffed. "There's no 'just' with what you did to him."

"You can't be stupid enough to think that I meant it like that."

"Jesus you're a real charmer aren't you?"

“I get it, I was a shitty person, to Steve especially, but-”

“No!” She shouted, cutting her hand through the air. “You don’t fucking get it. You really don’t fucking get it, Munson, because you weren’t there. You have no idea what all kinds of hell you put that man through for years, but I do. I was there for it all.”

“Of course I have no idea!” He threw his hands up. “How could I possibly have known?!”

“How could you possibly not have known?! Everyone knew how he felt and all you ever did was rub it in his face-”

“I didn’t rub anything! I wouldn’t have if I’d known but I didn’t! How the hell was I supposed to know?!”

“Are you blind?!” They had taken a few steps closer but the couch was still between them. Eddie guessed it was the only thing stopping her from tearing into him with her teeth. “You need something like that spelled out to you?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is that not a reasonable request? To be told what someone’s feeling with grown-up words and not have to navigate a minefield of guessing what’s going on in their head?” His legs bumping against the couch was the only indicator to him that he’d moved closer. “How was I supposed to know I needed to look deeper? Am I supposed to go around examining everyone’s motivations for a deeper meaning now? Try to see into their heads rather than trust the things they tell me? That makes no sense! I’m not fucking psychic, why am I expected to be? You know as well as I do that he hid this from me. He never told me!”

“Don’t you put this on him. Don’t you dare-!” She was leaning over the back of the couch now to jab him in the chest.

“I’m not!” He had his hands gripping in his hair by the scalp and he could feel the lump in his throat but he refused to cry in front of her. “But tell me I’m wrong, Buckley. Go on! Tell me I’m not making sense right now!”

Robin huffed. “You’re wrong and you’re not making sense right now.” There wasn’t much conviction behind it. She pulled her finger back from his chest and crossed her arms with a scowl. “Maybe if you weren’t so fucked up on everything all the time-”

“Oh, spare me. Don’t start on the puritan talk just because you know I’m right-”

“I am not-!”

“Okay, fine!” 

He ripped his hands out of his hair and felt like everything inside him was crumbling before he could stop it. He’d done everything he could, he’d kicked the drugs, he kicked the drink, he hadn’t had any sex since the ‘Sucker’ video, he was letting Steve decide how fast they moved, even when they moved and where to… what else was he supposed to do? He was at the end of his fucking rope. 

“Let’s examine that then, shall we? Do you think that if I knew that I had someone in my corner in that way, that I had someone I could come home to or- or be there with me in my lowest moments, that could help take the pressure off, that I felt safe with… do you think I wouldn’t have delighted in having a steady fucking thing for the hardest years of my life? People don’t do the amount of shit that I’ve done because they’re fucking happy, Robin!”

He turned his back on her to collapse down on the couch with his head in his hands, trying to force his tears to retreat. His whole body felt weak, like he’d been wrung out and he really hoped she didn’t take the opportunity to crack him over the back of the head with something.

The only thing that could be heard in the ringing silence of the house was his own heavy breathing as he tried to keep his emotions under control.

A weight settled down next to him and he thanked his lucky stars he was able to stop from flinching. He didn’t want to look up, the tears clinging to his waterline that he hadn’t managed to fight back would be undeniable, but as the quiet continued to extend around them he couldn’t ignore it.

Robin wasn’t looking at him, thank god. She was curled up as far away from him as she could get with her back to the couch arm, her knees pulled up against her and she was scowling in the direction of the tv.

It must have been nearly a full minute later when she spoke. In that time Eddie had to pull the bottom of his t-shirt up to wipe at his eyes and sniffle everything back and he was fully prepared to execute a frosty retreat to the guest room he’d been using.

“Fine.” Robin bit out. When Eddie looked over, she cut her eyes in his direction but quickly averted them again.

“Fine, what?” He cringed at the thickness in his own voice. He didn’t even have the energy to bite back, he just sounded petulant.

“Fine, you’re a miserable fuck.”

He scoffed. “Great. Thanks for your input.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“You didn’t want to finish, you left a dramatic pause in there on purpose.”

Her frown only got deeper. “Fine, you’re a miserable fuck but you’re not wrong.” She raised her hand to her mouth and started to pick at some dry skin on her lip. “It’s not on you to read minds.”

Eddie nodded. 

The tv wasn’t even on but she was still staring at it like it was. After another few moments of silence he turned, mirroring her position. “I am trying, Robin. Ever since it properly hit me I’ve been trying.”

“I know.” She sighed heavily, exasperated and slumped lower into the couch. “So he’s been telling me. And to be honest, I can see it.” She glanced back at him again. “Last time I saw you before this you looked like some strung out, coked up skeleton. Now you look,” she waved her hand around in his direction, “like you’ve got actual blood in your veins and not just Xanax and vodka. I just wish Steve didn’t need to get stepped on for you to get there.”

“I wasn’t stepping on him on purpose. If I’d have known… all of this would have happened a lot sooner.”

“Yeah.” She heaved herself up from the couch and grabbed the remote. “Put on a movie. I’d like to keep this little stalemate of ours going at least until Steve gets back. Might help him relax a little bit. Maybe not get a coronary. But pick well,” she threw herself back down and stared him dead in the eye, “don’t make me hate you again.”

Eddie didn’t end up picking a movie, he ended up picking a tv show but either way it ended up being a winner because Sense8 was always a winner. At least that was until it actually started because…

“This show is so fucking horny, man.”

Eddie just shrugged. “It’s a good show.”

“And what are you gonna do if Steve walks in while you’re watching two men fucking on tv?”

Eddie's heart stopped and his face flooded. It wasn’t that he thought Steve would judge him or it would set their progress back or whatever. It was that Steve would be standing there while very, very, super-duper, gay, gay, gay shit was happening in front of his eyes.

Robin snickered next to him just as the key sounded in the lock and a shout of “No one better be dead!” preceded Steve’s entrance.

The phone nearly flew out of Eddie’s hand as he made a frantic scramble to skipskipskip.

Steve stopped dead at the sight of the two of them sitting on the couch, not touching but also not hissing at each other like feral cats. Eddie with what was probably a red face and his phone clutched tight in his hand while Robin tried her best to hide her smile.

“What’s going on here?” Steve asked, wary eyes bouncing between them.

“Nothing!” They both answered at the same time with vastly different inflections. Robin sounded light and jovial while Eddie squeaked, trying to conceal his panic.

“Right…” Steve gave them both a final look before he turned towards the kitchen. “Whatever happened here, I don’t want to know. I’m just glad the two of you haven’t ripped each other's hair out.”

Once he had completely disappeared around the corner Eddie turned his glaring eyes to Robin who had the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

“You were no help.”

“Yeah? Get used to it.”

That fucking song wouldn’t leave his head and he didn’t know why.

Well that was a fucking lie.

Eddie knew exactly why this fucking song wouldn’t leave him alone. 

Freddie fucking Mercury was haunting him from beyond the grave. 

He could almost hear him, see him out of the corner of his eye. Sitting cross legged, an arm across the back of the couch as Eddie strummed on his guitar. That grin on his face. Drawling out “You’ll get it soon, darling.” 

It wasn’t even like it was a hard song to cover. 

On guitar anyway. 

Vocally was a whole different story. If anyone even thought of singing Freddie Mercury's pieces, figures would materialise out of the woodwork advising it was a bad idea. People just didn’t cover Queen. It was too difficult to do.

Freddie had a vocal range almost unmatched. He could switch keys effortlessly and often. He was iconic. Still is iconic. And almost everyone who had tried wasn't able to match up to the legend.

God, why was he doing this to himself?

A weight dipped the couch cushion next to him and Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin, almost firing his guitar across the room, convinced for half a second that Freddie Fucking Mercury had actually manifested next to him.

But the arm that was now across the back of the couch wasn't Freddie's.

"Jesus, Steve." Eddie clutched at his chest. "Warn a guy."

"You seemed very far away." Steve leaned his head against his hand with a small smile on his face. He was so pretty.

"Not that far.” Eddie shrugged. “Just a dimension or two."

“Seems pretty far.”

“Freddie’s just haunting me is all.” He said as he got up to place his guitar back in her stand along the wall with her sisters, throwing himself back down on the couch with an oof.

“Oh, tell him hi from me then.” Steve reached down, grasping Eddie under the knees and pulling his legs into his lap, causing Eddie to slip down the arm of the couch as his body was pulled forward, leaving only his head propped up at what must have been an incredibly unflattering angle.

“You could’ve just asked.” Eddie wrenched himself up to a sitting position, planting his arms behind him and refusing to think about the fact that if he wiggled his way forward just a little more he’d be pressed right up against Steve, fully in his lap. 

As it was, the backs of Eddie’s thighs were pressed against Steve’s and that was enough to kick his heart up a few notches.

Steve looked down at his legs, plucking at an old cigarette burn in the knee of Eddie’s sweatpants. They were good pants despite the hole. Soft and comfy and he did really mean to stitch it up but he kept getting distracted and then suddenly it was five years later and that same burn kept looking at him.

“You’re doing really well, you know.” Steve said in a quiet voice, staring at Eddie’s knees like they contained the answers to the universe.

Eddie tipped his head back until it hung between his shoulders and he groaned at the ceiling. “The guitar part is easy. It’s the vocals that are-”

“No,” Steve squeezed his knee, “no I don’t mean that, I mean your… your self improvement. Your getting healthy. Your-”

“Oh my god.” Eddie snapped his head back up, staring at Steve with wide hopeful eyes while his breathing got shallower. Steve had a light blush across his cheeks and was continuing to keep eye contact with the knees in front of him. “Is it happening, like is it really happening? Are you giving me a chance, are you-”

“Eddie.” Steve admonished, trying to pull his mouth into a scowl but his face was getting redder and the corner of his lips were lifting up of their own volition. “How are you such a pain in the ass? I had a whole speech planned about all the hard work you’ve put in and how dedicated you’ve been and how rough it’s all been for you but you’ve still persevered-”

“Right, sorry!” Eddie wanted to wave his hands in front of him but they were the only thing keeping him upright so he just nodded like a lunatic. “Sorry! Go ahead.”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed but was smiling now. “I can’t just go ahead. Especially now. I was gonna come down here and act all calm and cool and suave and deliver this great speech about how much it’s meant that you did all of this for me. For me?” Steve huffed and pinched his nose, his voice coming out a little shakier than before. “People don’t do things like this for me. And you stuck it out. You’ve kept going even during the hard days and there’ve been some really hard days. I know. I’ve seen them but you kept going and I’m so proud of you. Eddie, I’m so fucking proud. So yeah. I had a whole plan.”

Steve finally looked at him, his eyes were shining and his cheeks were still red but he was managing to pull himself back into his vaguely bitchy and disapproving façade that they both knew was fake but if Steve needed it to give him some strength Eddie would give it to him. 

Eddie would give him everything.

“I had to call Robin twice to hype me up and it still took me a half an hour to get down the stairs. Then I do come down the stairs and you’re sitting there, looking like that." Eddie glanced down at himself. 

Like what? He was in ratty tatty sweatpants and an old dark henley that might have originally belonged to Steve but he honestly couldn’t remember. He was in fuzzy socks and his hair looked like a bird's nest because he just wanted it washed and couldn’t be bothered to go though the whole curly girl thing Chrissy and Robin were trying to push him into. 

He just looked like Eddie.

“And you’re playing that song, trying to sing that song, my song and I couldn’t-” Steve clenched his eyes closed again, reaching his hand out blindly and Eddie shot forward, snatching Steve’s hand up in his own, leaning towards Steve so his centre of gravity was no longer behind him and holding Steve’s hand tight to his chest.

Steve would be able to feel Eddie’s runaway heart under his ribs but he didn’t care. In fact he hoped he could. He hoped it would let Steve know he wasn’t the only one who was scared out of his mind right now.

“Do you-” Steve gulped, opening his eyes again. “Do you still-”

“Yes, I still. I very still.” Eddie squeezed his hand tighter, pulled it harder into his chest, like he wanted Steve to touch his raw and bloody heart with his bare hands.

“Really? Even now? Even though… even after…?”

“Stevie.” Eddie whispered, heart breaking. “Do you think now that I’m sober I wouldn’t want you anymore?”

When Steve just shrugged Eddie couldn’t help himself. He reached a hand out, brushing his knuckles against Steve’s cheek before thumbing a tear away.

“All of this. Everything has been for you.” Eddie kept his voice low, trying to inject as much love as he could into the tone of his voice while he kept stroking Steve’s cheek. “It’ll continue to be for you as long as I live. Now that I know what I know, I don’t think there’s any going back for me. There hasn’t been for a while. I’ve been miserable for so long, hiding underneath substances and sex and denial that I forgot what it was like to even feel… neutral. I didn't know my own heart and you… you allowed me to be able to feel it again."

“Eddie… d’you- can I- can-”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes.” Steve almost sighed, relaxing like the weight of the world had just been gently lifted from his shoulders. 

“C’mere.” 

Eddie moved his hand from Steve’s cheek, curling his fingers around the back of his neck.

He pulled Steve forward and despite the thundering of his heart in his chest he had only intended it to be a short press of lips, an assurance, a comfort.

As soon as he kissed Steve, Eddie knew for certain that this was it for him. He was done for. He never wanted to kiss anyone else as long as he lived.

He’d never been kissed with so much emotion, with so much feeling. It enveloped his entire body. Any emotions that had previously been attached to kissing, he realised with sudden clarity, were just a general feeling of wild hornyness, crushing on someone, liking someone, being attracted to someone. 

All those were there when kissing Steve but there was so much more.

There was so much love and compassion and it was just so easy. They could have been doing this for years and Eddie found himself already mourning all the time that had previously been lost. He mourned who he used to be, the previous Eddie who had just been kissed out of existence despite his slow death over the last few months. The previous Eddie who’d thought that that life was the best it could ever get.

The poor bastard.

The kiss was wet and not exactly in a sexy way, Steve’s tears mingling between their mouths. Despite how it started, chaste and innocent and assuring, it didn’t stay that way even though Eddie had the best of intentions. 

Steve’s hand was at the back of his head, holding him close, trapping him in the best way as he leaned over him. Eddie felt his knee get batted out of the way and his legs pushed open as Steve settled between them, laying Eddie back on the couch and pressing him down as his tongue bullied its way into his mouth. Steve was well and truly steering this ship and Eddie was just happy to be along for the ride.

If Eddie’s eyes had been open they’d have rolled back in his head.

“Stevie,” Eddie croaked as his neck was being attacked by little nips and sucks that were making it very hard to think, “are you in the right headspace for this?”

Steve paused for a moment before pulling back to shoot him an incredulous look, hovering over him on those strong arms. “You’re asking me if I’m in the right headspace for something maybe sexual? How often have you been in the right headspace when you’ve done sexual things in the past?”

Eddie frowned. “Not very often, which is why I’m asking now.”

The line over Steve’s brow softened and he leaned down to place a kiss against Eddie’s forehead and damn there were those butterflies again.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie shook his head, a little more emphatically than he needed to. “No.”

“Do you want me?”

“I- yes. God, baby, I don’t want anyone else ever again.”

“Okay, good.” Steve leaned down again until he was a breadth away. "Can I continue then?"

So, like…

Eddie hadn't done anything in the last six months besides use his own hand. 

And maybe some toys. 

But he hadn't had a good fuck, hadn't had a good suck in six months after having multiple of each every week for years. In hindsight it had all been frighteningly close to some kind of sex addiction.

But still, six months.

That was to say when Eddie nodded and Steve leaned back down with that smirk of his, it was like he knew. 

Knew that when he rolled his hips down like that Eddie was at risk of blowing his load in less than ten seconds.

“Don’t care,” Steve moaned into his mouth, “don’t care if it’s quick. Don’t care. I wanna see.”

And as embarrassing as it was, that’s what did it. 

Steve telling him he wanted to see him. 

Eddie came with a cry, only barely able to coherently get half the man’s name out of his mouth. It took him longer than usual to float back into his body and even then he was still a little fucked out. Six months. He scrambled to stick his hand down Steve’s pants. This he knew. This he could practically do with his eyes closed. It only took a few minutes for Steve to follow with his mouth hanging open and a beautiful little scrunch in his brow.

“Oh shit.” Eddie sunk back into the cushions. “Don’t think I’ve come in my pants since I was sixteen.”

“I’m flattered.” Steve smiled, peppering kiss over his cheeks, his nose, his forehead.

“You should be.” Eddie smiled back, leaning into the easy affection he was being showered with with so much joy.

“Um,” Steve hesitated, still pressing Eddie into the couch with his body weight but up on his elbows, fiddling nervously with his hair, “just so we’re clear on-”

“I’m with you. If you want.” He slung his arms around Steve’s neck. “We can be a thing. In a relationship. Boyfriends. Partners. All of the above. I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

“Hmm.” Steve tried to give a nonchalant shrug. “That could be a very long time.”

“I’m okay with that.” Eddie leaned up, making sure to seal it with a kiss.

Six Months Later

“So… here’s the thing.” Steve wedged himself in behind Eddie, legs on either side and pulling him back against his chest while Eddie tapped away on his game controller, swinging from building to building.

Eddie settled back, allowing his body to relax but keeping his eyes on the screen. “Mhm?”

“You remember the Sucker music video?” Steve nuzzled his nose into Eddie’s hair.

“Ugh.” Eddie couldn’t watch it. It had come out while Steve was on vacation the first time and Eddie hadn’t wanted to look at the guy who’d potentially destroyed one of the most important relationships in his life. 

Nowadays he was almost tempted to send the bitch a fruit basket. Sex with you helped me find love with someone else. Something like that.

“Right, well you know how there wasn’t enough footage for that gory online exclusive cut?”

“A tragedy, really.”

“Yeah. But the label is looking to release something small before you all start writing again, keep interest up and I was talking to the boys-”

“You were plotting with the boys.”

Steve nodded, tightening his arms for just a moment. “I was plotting with the boys and we were thinking why don’t we do some reshoots to get enough footage together and release it?”

Eddie had to pause the game and twist around. “Sweetheart, tell me you are not suggesting we contact whatever the fuck his name was and I go film with him again?”

Steve looked scandalised. “No! Jesus, no. That’s not what I’m suggesting. I’m… well we were thinking that maybe you could film it with… me.”

Eddie turned completely, planting himself over Steve’s lap and grinning down at him. “Oh yeah?” He leaned in, ghosting his lips over Steve’s cheek, coming to a stop right by his ear. “You wanna be my victim, baby?”

“I get bitten by you enough, I might as well-” Steve gasped as Eddie sunk his teeth into his neck, sucking at the skin. “-might as well get paid for it.” He rolled his hips up and any logistical talk of the video shoot completely flew out the window.

Three weeks later and the video had been released. It was filthy, it was disgusting, it was downright sexy even if that fake blood still tasted like shit. 

Though Steve didn’t really have a problem with his face being in the video, he was mostly kept anonymous. 

Quick close up flashes of his open panting mouth before a hand was clapped over it then his neck gushing blood while Eddie practically bathed in the spray. A shot of Steve’s chest as the clothes were ripped from him, a hand tugging harshly at the hair. Then red dripping handprints over his stomach and black tipped fingers pushing his knees apart and Eddie’s hand running through his hair, leaving blood streaked in its wake, were all that was seen of him.

People went fucking wild for it. It broke through to mainstream news, which Corroded Coffin hadn’t managed to do for a while. 

Christian moms were scandalised. 

Conservative men were outraged. 

Social media was thirsty.

And Steve was starting to get offers. 

Even though he wasn’t really identifiable, people in the industry who’s job it was to know these things started sending him offers for modelling jobs or acting jobs. Though Steve had originally not given them a second look, now he was starting to look.

They’d both agreed that ethically Steve couldn’t really continue on as his P.A. anymore. The thought had once scared the everloving shit out of Eddie but now… now it was okay, because Steve was Eddie’s and Eddie was Steve’s.

Two Years Later

God, he loved being on stage. It was such a rush. How had he been doing it in an altered state for so long? 

It was their first tour since all of everything with Steve had happened. 

Nearly a year and a half since he’d had to get a new personal assistant.

Nancy was like some weird mix in between Steve and the other two, Dustin and Max.  Like Steve, she knew how to handle executives and businessmen like she was speaking a second language. She was loyal to a fault. She was small and sweet looking. People didn’t keep their guard up around her. That would be their first mistake. 

There was one very memorable instance where an overly eager and quite frankly stupid paparazzo had managed to sneak onto Eddie’s property. 

It was rumoured that the new up and coming heartthrob of indie rom-coms was allegedly the live-in boyfriend of a controversial metal singer and this idiot was sure he could get the scoop.

What he hadn’t been expecting was Nancy Wheeler in her white frilly blouse and baby blue dress pants popping him on the nose and swinging her sensible heeled foot in between his legs.

It had all been caught on security footage. 

Eddie had the screenshots framed and Nancy now had them hung behind her desk in the office she had in his house. 

Like Dustin and Max, she’d worked with Steve in the past. She was an absolute wizard when it came to organisation, she didn’t treat him like a mythical entity and she could see past the big bad image to the soft squishy human underneath.

She had a bit more trouble articulating things when it came to emotion but her intentions were never bad. 

Though Eddie and Steve didn’t have an employer/employee relationship anymore, the relationship they did have had only blossomed.

Apparently they were sickening to be around, but Eddie couldn’t really find it within himself to care. He loved his boy so why would he hide it when they were amongst friends?

Robin was forced to eat her words soon enough, which Eddie found great satisfaction in, and reminded her of it often, when he’d introduced her to Chrissy.

Those two were just as bad as he and Steve.

Eddie gave his thanks to the crowd and jogged off to the wings where Steve was waiting with a bottle of water that he nearly drowned himself with, trying to swallow it all down in one go.

Steve just rolled his eyes, making sure to stay out of sight of the crowd as he did it. Neither of them really cared if they got caught red handed with each other but if they could avoid the media circus, they would.

Steve wanted to make a name for himself on his own.

“You don’t have to do this, Eds.”

Eddie nodded. “I know.”

“It’s a big risk.” Steve continued with his hands on his hips.

“I know.” He handed the bottle back to Steve. “But I said I'd do it, didn't I?”

“You did, but you can always pull out.”

“Baby, I never pull out.”

“That's a fucking lie.”

It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes now. “Just sit back and enjoy the show, sweetheart.”

Steve gave his ass a squeeze. “Always do.”

Eddie pinched his cheek before turning and jogging back out to centre stage amongst the cries of encore from the crowd.

“Alright, alright.” He spoke into the mic. “One more song for you all. Um,” the nerves were coming in hard and fast now as he glanced behind him towards the other members who gave him encouraging nods. 

Well of course they didn’t need to be nervous. 

They weren’t singing the damn thing. 

Eddie turned back to the crowd as a stage hand came out and handed him his guitar. “I gotta be honest with you all, I’m scared shitless of performing this song. You might be wondering what that’s been doing here all this time.”

He pointed over at the piano that had been sitting quietly in a corner, unused for the whole show.

The audience ooohed and cheered.

“Unfortunately I can’t play, but Jeff here is multi-talented.” Jeff handed his guitar off and took his seat at the piano, tapping on a few keys before giving Eddie the thumbs up.

“People get crucified for covering this band. It’s just not done.” There was chattering starting up in the crowd as they started to speculate. “No one can get close to what this man had, but god damn it, there’s someone special out there who I want to do this for. They’re his favourite band and this is his favourite song and based on your reaction I think some of you already know what I’m about to fucking do. Shit.” He sighed into the mic. “This is Her Majesty. Queen.”

Eddie had no hope of being able to improvise or vamp like Freddie once had and he would never even attempt to try. So as the first piano notes played out over the speakers he opened his mouth and started to sing.

They'd practised this song to death. The whole band was adamant that if they were going to do this they were going to do it right. They guys had practised their high backing vocals for weeks. Eddie had rehearsed the song for months.

There was no way he was going to do Freddie dirty.

By the time he’d gotten to Brian May’s guitar solo he was able to move around a little and get a good look at the crowd.

His eyes landed on a mess of long dirty blond hair and he felt his mouth drop open. 

“Holy shit.” He muttered to himself.

Julian beamed up at him, his arms wrapped around a little twink of a man with a shock of black hair wearing a battle vest that if memory served, had definitely belonged to Julian last they’d met.

“Danny?” Eddie mouthed at him.

Julian’s responding nod was elated as he squeezed Danny against him tighter. Danny himself looked completely shell shocked while something was whisper-shouted into his ear over the music.

Eddie wanted to fucking jump for joy.

With a glance back into the wings, he saw Steve muttering to Nancy, gesturing out towards them. When he looked up and caught Eddie’s eye he tilted his head in question.

You wanna bring them back?

Eddie nodded, just barely catching sight of Nancy disappearing off somewhere before he turned back to finish out the song with a bang, sending one last wink Julian’s way before the lights went down.

When he opened the door to his green room, it was to the sight of Robin trying to adjust her top and Chrissy pulling her skirt back down, both red faced and breathing heavily.

“Can’t you two go find a bathroom or a maintenance closet or something? This is my room! I’m supposed to be the one doing sexy things back here.”

“We lost track of time!” Robin said with crossed arms.

Eddie stuck his hands on his hips. “Surely the sudden lack of loud music should have tipped you off that the concert was over?”

“We were distracted.” Chrissy shrugged, looking completely unapologetic.

“Well go be distracted somewhere else, I’ve got guests coming back.”

“Who?” They asked at the same time.

“An old friend.”

Just then the door behind him was opened. 

Nancy gestured Julian through, who had a huge smile on his face, pulling Danny along by the hand who looked like he was about to faint.

Eddie surged forward, catching Julian up in a crushing hug while he laughed.

“You got your man!” He cried, practically bouncing the two of them.

“I got my man!” Julian squeezed back before extricating himself from Eddie’s arms, pulling Danny forward and tucking him in under his arm. “Eddie, this is Danny Aguilar. Danny this-”

“Hi! I- uh… yeah, I um. I know you. I mean I don’t know you. I mean I know who you are…” Danny stuttered out and before Eddie could even say anything, Nancy was at his side with a small smile and a bottle of water that he took with shaking hands.

“It’s really cool to meet you, man. I’ve heard great things.” Eddie smiled at him but that only seemed to freak him out more so he decided to give the guy a break, turning his attention back to Julian who was rubbing small circles on Danny’s back.

“So tell me, how did this happen?” Eddie asked, pointing between the two of them.

“Well,” Julian gave Danny a squeeze while he took a large drink. “It was the rumours about you actually.”

Eddie snorted. “Which ones?”

“The ones about you shacking up with some guy named Steve who may or may not be the same Steve who’s been making a name for himself.” Julian raised a brow at him. “I figured that even if they weren’t true, I’d seen you get your shit together, get sober, get healthy and it made me think I could do that too. Only one life to live, you know?”

“That’s amazing.” Eddie smiled. “I’m so happy for you, man.”

Julian blushed. “Thanks. What about you?” He asked. “If you tell me that it didn’t work out after I said all of that I’m gonna feel like a giant asshole.”

“No, I-” He felt an arm slide over his shoulders.

“I think it worked out okay.” Steve grinned at him and Eddie felt like he was falling in love all over again. “I hear you were the only one to actually say it out loud to him, so I guess I have you to thank for this.” Steve tugged on one of his curls and Eddie batted his hand away, only to grab it again and hold on tight.

“Oh shit. Really?” Julian looked between them with wide eyes. 

Danny was looking at him like he’d hung the moon.

“Yeah, really. Listen, I was thinking. We have a private space booked at a restaurant for the band and the crew and the lesbians,” Steve waved his hand in Robin and Chrissy’s direction who’d fallen into quiet conversation but now just shot him matching middle fingers, “we’d love it if you wanted to come along. Let us treat you two? As a proper thank you for helping this idiot get his shit together.”

Steve pulled him in tight and Eddie just melted.

Julian was nodding enthusiastically.

And poor Danny.

Poor Danny could only squeak in agreement.

Thank you for coming with me on this journey and I hope you've loved it as much as I have. 🖤

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 AO3

@lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring, @child-of-cthulhu, @sweetwaterangel, @anaibis, @katytheinspiredworkaholic, @littlewildflowerkitten, @hallucinatedjosten, @estrellami-1, @gregre369, @stxrcrossed186, @novelnovella, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere, @thesuninyaface, @messrs-weasley

[bigdumbbambieyes]

Billy rarely sleeps in, but when he does, Steve is always there to make sure he doesn’t sleep past noon.

Because there’s nothing Billy hates more than wasting a morning. Even if it means catching up on the much needed sleep he’s lost over the last couple of days he and his boyfriend have spent driving from Indiana to California.

And not to mention the sleep he lost last night, when he’d continued to unpack the kitchen until almost three in the morning after driving for six hours, ignoring Steve’s sleepy mumbles of ‘come to bed already’ from the doorway of their new bedroom.

He face-planted into his pillow around three thirty, finally giving in. He felt Steve’s arms wrap around him like a little octopus and fell asleep like that, cuddled and warm and safe.

Hours later, though, he’s roused by the scent of coffee and something sweet.

Blinking awake, Billy takes in the sounds outside the bedroom and hears the squeaky hinges of the door protest as the door is pushed open. Turning his head over towards it, he spots Steve coming in with a plate and a cup of coffee.

Breakfast.

Glancing at the bedside table - and finding no alarm clock because it’s still packed away - Billy slowly flips onto his back with a quiet groan and asks, “Time?”

“Time to wake up,” Steve hums happily, rounding the bed to sit on the edge of Billy’s side, his hair a wild mess, “But, it’s just after 10. I know you don’t like sleeping too late, so…”

He sets the black coffee aside and presents the plate, which is…an Eggo. Dusted in cinnamon and sugar.

Rubbing at his eye, Billy furrows his brows and looks up at his boyfriend from the plate, giving him a look.

Explain yourself.

“It’s a Sandy Eggo,” Steve grins, bright like the sun outside, “Y’know, since we’re in San Diego, and it’s our first breakfast here, so…I dunno, I wanted to, like…make it kinda special? And to make you smile—mostly to make you smile. Please smile.”

It’s stupid. Dumb. Childish.

Because Steve had to have gone down to the convenience store down the block to get the waffles, come back, fry an Eggo with too much butter on the stove, and then rolled it in cinnamon sugar to make it look like a literal sandy Eggo. All because they just moved to San Diego yesterday. And he wanted to mark the occasion.

Fuck.

“God, you’re…” Billy sighs out a quiet laugh of disbelief, so overcome with stupid undeniable affection for the dork in front of him, giving Steve a look that probably shows just how hopelessly in love he is.

And it must, because Steve’s melted chocolate eyes brighten as his smile grows and he gives Billy the plate, urging, “Yeah, I know, but c’mon, you could at least take a bite — I’m not the cook out of the two of us, so at least pretend you like it, okay?”

“Anything for your ego, King Steve,” Billy smirks, picking up the Eggo and taking a bite as Steve watches him with wide, eager eyes.

He doesn’t have to pretend to like it, because it’s sweet and good, just like Steve.

And when his boyfriend asks for a taste, Billy leans in to give him just that.

[rogueddie]

Established Relationship Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 💌

love confessions in line

steddieas_shegoes

“Why do we have to be here so early? My dinner hasn’t even digested properly yet,” Robin complained.

And, okay. It was cold and there were a lot of people standing in line outside of the only Walmart carrying the very specific guitar amp Eddie wanted. He’d called every Walmart in Indiana. Multiple times.

But he had to go all out for Christmas this year. Eddie had already said he’d gotten Steve something he’ll never outdo, never even believe. Obviously, that meant Steve had to do better than the Metallica hoodie that was stashed in his closet for the last four months.

Words : 1,369 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Guts

AnnetheCatDetective

After a difficult visit from his parents, Steve relearns loving his recovering body. Just knowing he's wanted the way that he is isn't enough... but getting outside of himself might be.

Words : 2,578 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

fixer-upper

mourningshowers

Steve wakes up the morning of their two-month We-Finally-Got-Our-Shit-Together anniversary to find Eddie staring at him, crouched over at the foot of the bed with his round unblinking eyes like a fucking gargoyle. It should be creepy. Steve is used to this, though, so now it’s just kind of a thing that Eddie does.

“What,” Steve says groggily, wiping the drool from his mouth.

“Nothing, angel, go back to sleep,” Eddie trills.

Words : 20,596 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

your electric touch

sourw0lfs

“Don’t move! Whatever you do, Eds, do not fucking move!” Steve hollers from his spot in the doorway.

Without a question, Eddie freezes, eying him with a questioning gaze. He’s standing somewhere between the pool and the house, trying and failing to find what has so much fear working its way into Steve’s face.

“One of the lines just snapped and fell,” Steve explains, eyes on the area around Eddie but never directly on him. “Right into the puddle.”

Words : 1,093 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

if i ain't got you

vampbites

He shuts the fridge and turns around to lean against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, letting out a quiet sigh. Eddie’s back is turned to him so he can only see the movement of his shoulders as he scrubs the dishes harder than he ought to.

He’s still pissed, then.

Words : 1,425 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

The Photo File

Crowgirl

‘When were you going to tell me?’

Words : 1,633 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Stimming

hotluncheddie

He’s on the couch, it’s dark, he actually feels really comfortable, and he’s watching The Breakfast Club. Watching it again. It’s his favourite, it feels like his. But he doesn’t like watching it with other people because they might notice how much he likes it and he doesn’t want that. Can’t be seen like that.. Embarrassing.

So he watches it alone, when he gets home from work. He pauses whenever he wants, rewinds, pauses. Takes a deep breath, rewinds, pauses, stares into space.

Words : 2,547 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

checking it twice

cranberrymoons

“Hi,” he says, and – fuck. It’s only been a couple months, hasn’t it? How is he already –

“Hey,” Eddie says. His smile matches Steve’s as he comes around the counter, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder as he goes. He catches Steve around the waist. “You look nice tonight.”

Words : 661 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

The Cat

digitaalbe

the one where Eddie Munson finds a cat, and then he keeps it.

Words : 1,538 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Dustin Henderson vs The Apocalypse... Probably

writteninthewolfstar

Dustin wakes up from a movie night with the Party to find he's all alone in Steve's house. With no other logical explanation, he must conclude that he is the only person left on the planet... Until he goes upstairs to find something even more horrifying-

His best friend making out with his Dungeon Master!

Words : 1,620 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Zombie Stomp

You guys remember how I said I should probably wait, well I couldn't help myself. Heres the first part to Zombie Stomp! And have some more Wayne acting like Eddie’s actual father!

Ao3 link

Prologue: Virginity Rocks!

Eddie moves his body awkwardly to the record player, his hands are sweating as he sends a nervous smile to the most breathtaking boy on his bed. Sure, Eddie’s standards were low it was just a new line cook that got hired at Benny’s. He could still smell the grease coming off the other man's body, but it wasn’t like Eddie could be picky. He was a gay man in the middle of Hawkins, Indiana. How many opportunities like this was he going to get? Not many. Gays flocked out of here faster than they came in. Eddie would be doing the same if it weren’t for his Uncle. 

Wayne was on shift right now, thank god. The stars seemed to be aligning for Eddie to get laid, finally. At twenty years old he was going to lose his virginity at last. Thank fuck. ‘86 really was going to be his year. He was sure of it. 

He quickly searches through his cassette tapes, biting his lip as he realizes he doesn’t have good music for this. “You like Black Sabbath?” He asks. His voice comes off rougher than it normally was. He was extremely nervous he was going to fuck this up somehow as he twisted his body at a slight angle to look at the other man. Who was looking around his room curiously? Eddie wasn’t sure what the other man was doing.

“Uh.. who’s that?” The guy asks in a tone that nearly turns Eddie off. But Eddie has to quickly bite his tongue to prevent himself from being a dick because once again this was most likely his only shot to lose his virginity before he was of legal drinking age. And he was going to be damned if he went to his first gay bar as a virgin.

“Uh.. a metal band, the lead singer used to be Ozzy the guy that bit that bat’s head off?” He rambles out. He hopes that may ring a bell for the other. But if anything it makes the other more disinterested.

“Never heard of her,” Robert says, beginning to chew on his gum obnoxiously. The longer Eddie hung around him the more annoyed he was getting. “Hey man, I don’t care what you put on. It’s not like I’m listening to it anyway.” He chuckles gently.

“Yeah, alright- alright yeah no. No music should be fine then. Probably better than what I have here.” He jokes, hoping to break the awkward tension that was slowly beginning to fall over them. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t stop bouncing around or rambling. He knew it was his nerves, his anxiety was high and his typical cure for that was weed. But his gut told him it would be a bad idea to get high before this.

Robert doesn’t even laugh in response he just makes a soft grunting noise and it's only making Eddie feel more tense. The longer he pays closer attention to the other, the more he starts to believe Robert doesn’t even want to be here even though this had been entirely his idea in the first place.

Eddie was about to question him, ask if he even wanted to do this in the first place but before he gets his chance the other has begun to pat his lap suggestively. A dark look in his eye sends a shiver up Eddie’s spine. Whether it was a good or bad tingling Eddie was yet to decipher. 

“Why don’t we get this show on the road, huh?” Robert hums out, beginning to lean back a bit with what could only be described as a cocky smirk as Eddie walks closer.

Eddie nods as he begins to doubt if he wants to do this still. But another part of him tells him to just get it over with. Eddie doesn’t like that side but listens to it anyway as he carefully places himself in Roberts's lap. 

He chuckles awkwardly as he realizes he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs. The guy doesn’t even bother telling him what to do before he’s reaching for his belt.

This is when they both realize Eddie isn’t hard. He had been earlier when Robert pulled him behind his van and started to whisper about tonight in his ear. But not now. His dick wasn’t even showing any sign of life even with the other's mouth against his neck, completely unbothered by the fact Eddie wasn’t turned on. That doesn’t sit right with Eddie and the longer he sits in this man’s lap the more he begins to convince himself that he wasn’t gay and that he was just making it all up in his head for attention.

“Gotta relax baby,” The other chuckles gently. Robert was still awkwardly kissing up his neck and using too much tongue. It felt disgusting. 

Eddie has had enough and is about to tell the other as such when his bedroom door flies open.

“Eddie pack your shit we-” Wayne Munson was in his doorway and Eddie Munson was frozen in another man's lap having one of the worst experiences of his life. 

Wayne Munson, as in Eddies Uncle and the only person he cares for in this world just caught him being a faggot. 

Eddie’s eyes have grown wide, his already fast-beating heart goes even faster and possibly even skipping a few beats here and there. Eddie freezes while Robert shoves him off his lap with no hesitation. He’s buckling his belt just as fast as he pushes past Wayne Munson to get out the front door. 

Neither Eddie nor Wayne breaks eye contact. Eddie’s ears were ringing and his hands were shaking. All that he had processed from the man before he came barging in was “... pack your shit…” 

Eddie Munson was getting kicked out again and he was having a stupid panic attack over it like some little bitch. He had prepared for this moment for years now, and now that it was finally here he was frozen like a little bitch.

Eddie doesn’t even process standing up, let alone throwing himself to grab the bag he’s kept hidden for exactly this purpose. Moving and frantically adding a couple more things, he thinks he may be going into shock.

He doesn’t feel the tears running down his face, he doesn’t hear his Uncle moving closer to him and isn’t expecting to feel the gentle touch of his uncle's hands on his shoulders. Eddie tenses up and freezes again as he feels feeling snot running down his face.

He jumps startled, flinching away from his uncle's hands when they grip his shoulders softly. Eddie finally looks up from his bag to meet Wayne's eyes as he repeats Eddie’s name for what was most likely the numerous time. 

“Eddie, boy. I don’t give a shit who you fuck. I don’t care who you love, I could give a rat's ass what you do romantically just as long as you are being treated right. But what I do care about is getting you to a safe shelter somewhere west.” Wayne’s voice is rough as he moves both his hands to Eddie’s face to get him to focus. Something he hasn’t done since he first got custody of the boy. 

Eddie had to process everything the other was saying, looking more confused than anything because this was not going the way he expected and it was happening way too fast. 

“Wait, so you don’t care that I’m gay?” He clarifies.

“Kid, I couldn't care less,” Wayne says bluntly. “Now pack your shit, we have to go.” Wayne lets go of Eddie's face as he moves to Eddie’s doorway to head into the living room to grab his things acting as if some relationship-altering thing didn’t just happen to them. 

“Wait- why?” Eddie asks even more confused than before. He feels as if god was purposely putting him on an emotional roller coaster. 

“You remember that disease they brought up on the radio the other day? The one that has been hitting the south and east hard?” 

“Yeah, but that isn’t supposed to hit us?” Eddie follows his uncle into the living room not packing like he was supposed to. 

“Well they are and were wrong, and it's taking Hawkins up by storm right now, now boy I will not repeat myself. Go pack your shit now.” Wayne raises his voice. He’s pointing in the direction of Eddie’s room. Eddie has never seen his Uncle like this before and that scared him more than anything else in this world. 

Eddie doesn’t waste a second after that. Quickly stumbling back into his room to grab everything he cared about. 

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie raised his voice, wanting to make sure he was being heard. He becomes more panicked as he watches a person stumble from the woods. Slowly moving into the light with bloody hands, clothes, and was that blood on their face? 

Eddie and Wayne had escaped Hawkins hours ago and were now on their way to god knows where. Not even Wayne knew. The only reason they had stopped was for gas. Wayne wanted to have some extra gas stored in the red containers he had purposely kept for emergencies just in case they ran out in the middle of nowhere. But it seemed as if they weren’t the only ones to have this idea as most gas stations on their way here had empty signs on their pumps.

“Yeah kid, I see him,” Wayne says. Pushing the top back on the container as he lifts it up and over and sets it in the bed of his truck. His eyes never leave the stumbling man in front of them. Neither does Eddies. 

Wayne slowly moves to the driver's side of his truck, carefully reaching in to grab the shotgun he had purposely propped up between him and Eddie. 

“Wayne, what are you doing?” Eddie hisses, shifting his eyes from the injured man to his crazy uncle. “He needs help, not a shotgun shell,”

Wayne doesn’t say anything to him, instead, he raises his voice. “Hey mister, you alright?” 

And oh fuck. Eddie thinks he's seen this in a movie before. It feels as if someone hit fast forward and suddenly his ears were ringing from the loud gunfire. His Uncle jumps in the driver's side to quickly drive away, just as the cashier from the gas station runs out. 

“Oh my god, you killed him,”

“Son, that thing wasn’t alive.”

[piratefishmama]

79 for the dialogue prompt (bonus if this is asked to Kas!Eddie /j (just kidding, do what you will with this 😭))

Writing Prompts | No longer accepting new prompts

“Are you back for good?”

--

“Are you back for good?” Eddie turned to cast his ashen-brown eyes toward the man behind him, so much he wanted to say. So much he’d wanted to do. All of it seemingly impossible now, even after they’d won. He’d never have a normal life, he’d always need something that he couldn’t expect the people around him to want to give him, an ask far too big for the people who’d known him a mere fraction of his life.

“I think not, Steve.” Eddie’s answer coming with a deep sigh of resignation. “I don’t belong here.” Where did he belong now though? Sure he was warm, and his injuries had already closed leaving angry scarring behind, but he’d died. He’d died and things simply weren’t the same anymore.

He wasn’t himself anymore. Didn’t feel like himself. The devil may care attitude was gone, his goofy self… it didn’t exist anymore, it couldn’t exist anymore. He’d seen too much, experienced too much, been through too much. He couldn’t look in a mirror and recognise himself anymore, things had changed too much.

“And where exactly do you think you belong, Munson? If not here.” Steve wasn’t moving, just leaning against the island in his kitchen, expression unreadable, his heart rate steady.

“You think I have an answer for that? You know what I look like. Where the fuck on Earth would I fit in now?” He lifted a hand just to look at it, once fingers tipped with fingernails he’d habitually bitten down to the quick, were now tipped with claws capable of carving flesh from bone. If he looked in a mirror he’d find his complexion paler than before, the network of veins that ran beneath his skin a darker blue than ever before, if he opened his mouth his canines were sharp, incisors too, sharp enough to pierce through layers of skin, of muscle to tear it away and feast. “I was already an outcast, I was already the freak, the monster, now I look the part do you think they’ll ever leave me alone?”

Whatever Creel had done to him, whatever the bats had done to him in the Upside Down during his time there, the only thing left of him was a vague shape of what he used to be, as if he were a doppelganger created by an evil witch who wasn’t completely certain of what he ought to look like.

The essentials were there… but nothing else.

“Eddie, you still fit in here.”

“I think the closest to here I fit, is the creepy upside-down version of here, and I can’t even get back there.” El had sealed it off after eviscerating everything that could possibly want to reach Earth. It still existed, couldn’t just destroy an entire dimension, especially one so closely linked to theirs, it’d probably destabilize the whole thing and tear their dimension apart with it.

A coin had two sides, one couldn’t exist without the other.

“You think you belong there, on your own?”

“I dunno, Steve… Maybe I could make it better… Maybe it was only bad because of Vecna and the Flayer. Maybe… maybe I could do something good for once, help the things there to grow and be better. I’ll never fit in here, Steve, I never did before, and now… I mean… look at me, how can I have a life, looking like this?” He couldn’t go back to school, there’d be no chance of him ever getting a job, and forget dating, not that he had much luck with that anyway. “School? Not a chance, a job? Hah, sure… a personal life?” Gay man in rural ‘God fearin’ Indiana? Pfft. He’d already been struggling and now he was basically a blood sucking undead freak, so. That was just extra. Eddie’s shoulders slumped in resignation, eyes downturned to the floor “I should have never stayed on this side of the gate when she closed it.”

Steve’s arms dropped, he took a step closer as if to reach out to comfort him “Eddie…” he only hesitated when Eddie looked back at him

Even his eyes had changed. No longer the chocolate brown they’d once been, it was as though the ashy spores of the upside down had faded the richness of the colour away leaving a pale, ashy excuse in its place.

“No, I shouldn’t have, I should have just ditched with the bats when I had the chance, followed them when they told me to, when they warned me it’d be the last chance I’d get to go with them, I shouldn’t be here. I helped you win, I broke free of his control to help out, but that should have been the end of my involvement, I shouldn’t have stayed.”

“Then why did you? What made you stay, if you were so sure that you shouldn’t have, hm?”

“…Do you know what snapped me out of it, Steve?” Eddie had already lost a lot. He’d lost his life, he’d lost his humanity, he’d lost everything he was and everything he could have been, all because he’d wanted just a little extra cash for a concert that he’d wound up missing anyway. He couldn’t even go home. Had been living in one of the broken houses around the worst of the quake areas, squatting. He couldn’t go back to his uncle. Couldn’t do that to him. To Wayne, he was dead. He’d stay that way. “What snapped me out of his control? Do you know what did it?”

They hadn’t had music, there was nothing left of Eddie’s collection in the broken trailer that made up one of the points to the world’s worst X marks the spot, nothing left of his tapes, not that they’d have known to get some, they hadn’t known he’d be there. It wasn’t music that’d snapped him out of it, Eddie just… came back to them. Nobody knew why, but he had. One minute his gaze was empty, void of anything, just a puppet on strings for a master to control.

The next he was tearing Vecna’s arm clean from his shoulder and swiping an eye from its socket with such animalistic ferocity it’d stopped them all dead for fear of what he’d do next, for fear that he’d turn on them. He hadn’t. Vecna managed to send him flying through the pain, sending him crashing through rocks that hadn’t kept him down for very long. “We never figured that out… one minute you weren’t there, the next you were.”

“It was you.” Steve’s eyes widened a fraction, before his brows furrowed in confusion “your voice, Steve… I could hear you, telling Dustin that it wasn’t me, to stay back, to stay strong, yelling at Robin to get back behind the rocks, at Nancy to keep steady as she wavered, I could hear you so clearly over it all… everything else sounded like it was underwater, muddied, and dulled but you… It was like you were standing right next to me.” His favourite music, Steve. Just Steve, the way he talked, his voice, the sound of it… could have played him a thousand Metallica songs it wouldn’t have mattered. It had to be Steve. “Wish I’d been braver before all… this… brave enough to do more than tease and joke” he lifted his hand again to take in the clawed fingers he now had, missing how Steve moved closer, emboldened by Eddie’s words. “You made me stay… a stupid crush I should have gotten over years ago cause I know you’d never reciprocate, I know that, but I still stayed because I’m so fucking stu-mmpff—” Eddie’s back hit the wall closest to him, experienced and confident lips claiming his, silencing the rambling rant that’d rapidly begun spiralling, that rant dissolving into a softly whimpered moan muffled against Steve’s lips, so unfitting for such an intimidating creature.

Yet it fit Eddie Munson perfectly.

“Stay” Steve didn’t even try and pose the word as a question, it was an instruction, a demand, an order murmured against the plushest of inexperienced lips, and Eddie all but melted into it. Melted into him and chased him needy and wanting when Steve eased back, beautiful hazel eyes searching ashen brown with hope and want. “Stay for me… stay with me, just stay… please…”

“…Kiss me again and I’ll think about it.” Never should anyone claim Eddie Munson was not a gifted at bargaining.

“Deal.”

Maybe, he figured the morning after when he awoke to the most gloriously beautiful sight he’d ever laid his eyes upon, his muscles pleasantly aching, all wrapped up in the warm, strong embrace of that beautiful sight, Steve Harrington, a wealth of possibilities for a future with something in it other than pain now suddenly open to him, to them, a future to be shared instead of lived alone, maybe… just maybe, he could be back for good.

Maybe sticking around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[estrellami-1]

In tradition of giving prompts that are just things happening in my life : steddie buy their first home (as a couple or pre relationship) and struggle with trying to figure out how to do maintenance and home repairs (what the Jesus fuck is the difference between nineteen different types of wood filler? And what are the pros and cons of mesh tape vs paper tape for drywall? If these are questions you’re struggling with baby I’ve been doing the research and I have answers lol) and maybe one of them start to feel a little in over their head and like they don’t know what they’re doing even though they’re trying SO hard to get everything right and comfort ensues 😇💜

(This is for the post about wanting to write but I’m so sorry if this is too long of an idea or something feel free to ignore love you also if it is also past midnight for you go to sleep you can write tomorrow haha) 💜💜💜💜💜

Hello my darling!

(It is after midnight but my sleep schedule has long since been decimated and I will sleep… sometime. Probably after I write this.)

Please keep in mind I’m impatient and want to write this Now and am not willing to do research and also am 24 and still live with my parents and only know about fixer-uppers what I’ve learned from HGTV. Which is to say, not much. But I’ll do my best! ❤️

“Stevie, my love,” Eddie sings, in the way he does when he’s getting frustrated but doesn’t want to take it out on Steve. “What in the everloving, flying fuck is this?”

Steve laughs as he joins Eddie in the bathroom, then sighs as he sees what Eddie’s pointing out. “That would be an external wall. With no insulation. In goddamned Indiana.” He sighs again. “I’m making a list of things we need. I guess I’ll add fucking insulation to the list.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugs on the ends.

Eddie looks at him sharply. “What’s wrong?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

Eddie smiles softly. Brings a hand up, tugs at a lock of Steve’s hair the way he just had. “You do that when you’re overly stressed.”

Steve stares flatly. “We’re trying to rebuild a house, Eds.”

“Overly stressed, baby. You handle stress like a champ. It’s when all the little things get to be too much that you pull out that little move.”

Steve sighs, lays his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. Hums when Eddie’s hand immediately connects with his hair in response. “���S just… all of it. It’s a lot, there’s a lot to do, there’s a lot of little things that need work that I didn’t know would need work. I just feel… inadequate.” He grips at Eddie’s waist, fingertips digging into the top of his jeans. “There’s fuckin’ nineteen different kinds of wood filler and it feels like we need about twenty-six different types. And I don’t know why just one isn’t enough. Or even why we need wood filler in the first place.”

Eddie hums, moves so Steve’s standing on his own. “Hey.” Fingertips touch Steve’s jaw, a silent request to look up. “Dance with me?”

Steve smiles, like somehow, after all these years, Eddie’s ridiculousness is still endearing to him. “In an unfinished bathroom? In an unfinished house? With no music?” He pauses. “Actually, no, the no music makes sense for us.”

Eddie laughs lightly, already swaying in a kind of dance, grabbing Steve’s hands and spinning him around, pressing his back to Eddie’s front. “No better time, no better place, Stevie, my love.” He hums a few bars of a song in Steve’s ear.

Steve gives in, dances with the man he promised his forever. Who promised him a forever right back. “Eds, why are we dancing?”

He can feel the curve of Eddie’s lips on his neck as he smiles and presses a kiss to his spine. “Because it makes you smile.”

Steve melts. “I’ve gotta go to the store.”

“We’ve gotta go to the store. After we’ve danced in our unfinished bathroom, in our unfinished house. Ours, Stevie, my love. It’ll take however long it takes, but this is ours. Just like the ridiculous ragamuffins you adopted all those years ago.”

“You adopted them. They adopted me.”

“And then you adopted them right back, quit with the minutiae when I’m making a point.” A teasing finger pokes Steve’s side. “Just like Robin, and Nance, and Wayne. They’re ours, our family, and they’ll be here as soon as we tell them we need help.”

“I don’t want to need help.” He sighs after a pause. “This is one of those bring-it-up-in-therapy things, isn’t it?”

“Probably so, Stevie, my love.” A slow kiss to his spine. He shivers. “But for now, we’re going to dance. We’ll go to the store. We’ll call at least Nancy, because she scares me and will probably shave our heads in our sleep if she finds out we were struggling and didn’t ask for help. And even through all that, this will be our house. After all that, this will still be our house.”

Steve turns around in Eddie’s arms, silences him with a quick kiss. “Ours, Eddie, my love,” he agrees.

[babyrunsforfanfic]

New Years Kiss | s.h.

summary: in which you kiss a stranger on nye

steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings/tags: fluff, meet-cutes at a party, badly written kissing scene, mentions alcohol drinking i mean they meet at a party it happens ok, reader bought a building in hawkins to turn into a bakery but i barely mention it, they share a piece of gum while kissing ok that may gross some of y’all out idk ok just a warning, there’s poteintial for a pt 2

wc: 990ish

•••

you weren’t sure why you even attended tommy hagan’s traditional new year’s eve party. it had been something he’d been throwing before you even moved to hawkins; since the seventh grade according to what his girlfriend, carol perkins, had told you.

you’d only been in the small town of hawkins, indiana for less than a week— literally arriving the day after christmas.

you wanted a fresh start, a clean slate if you will.

so, in all your infinite wisdom- you purchased an empty business space, planning to turn it into a local bakery/coffeeshop. it’d take some work, a lot of work actually- but you were excited.

in any event, moving to hawkins had caused enough of a stir in the local townsfolk that you’d managed your way into hagan’s invite list. which, is how you’d ended up perched on tommy’s patio, a cup of warm beer pressed to your lips.

you took a slow sip, eyes wide as you took in the people outside- all crowding around a radio that was gearing up to start the countdown. several other people were setting up small sparklers, as well as passing out glow sticks to anyone who walked too close.

“hey there,” a soft voice greeted from next to you, and you flinched as you turned your head. a man was grinning at you, in a soft looking red sweater, brown hair swept back. “shit, sorry- did i scare you?”

“no, fuck uh-” you laughed as you shook your head, offering the man a shy smile. “sorry i was a little zoned out there.”

“no worries,” he shrugged, before he nodded shyly to the concrete next to you. “can i join you?”

“yeah, free country ‘n all.” you took another sip of beer, feeling blood rush to the skin of your cheeks as you shook your head. “you from around here?”

“yeah, my whole life.” the man shrugged, sending you a fond-looking smile. you decided up close he was even more attractive, if that was even possible. his eyes were dark, several moles dotted his cheeks and neck, and he kept sweeping back that insufferable hair of his. “you though, you’re definitely not from around here.”

“and why’s that?” you cocked your head before you took another sip of beer, eyebrows raised slightly.

“because i would’ve definitely noticed you.” you let out a nervous giggle as you blinked up at the man, who grinned back down at you, before he leaned into your space and bumped his shoulder against yours. “y’know there’s this saying, on this holiday.”

“oh?” you curiously turned to him, pausing for a moment to sit your cup of beer down. “and what saying is that?”

“COUNTDOWN IS STARTING!” tommy hagan hollered, and you turned just in time to catch carol launching herself at him, and the boy swung her into his arms.

you turned back to the man next to you, cocking your head as he grinned.

“that you should kiss a stranger… for good luck and all.” he’d leaned closer, and you sucked in a sharp breath- his cologne heavy around you. it was strong, masculine, and you watched him pop the gum he had in his mouth.

“oh, is that right?” you murmured, tilting your head slightly- feeling his breath against your own lips. “good luck?”

“mhm,” he hummed, popping his gum again.

“FIVE!”

“well,” your voice was soft, and you let him curl his hand around your cheek. his thumb and pointer directed your face up, while the rest of his fingers curled against the back of your neck. “we can’t break a new year’s tradition, can we?”

“FOUR!”

he grinned at you, and tilted your chin up slightly- before he leaned in closer.

“THREE!”

“no, don’t think we can do that, sweet thing.” his voice was gruffer, and you licked your bottom lip as you blinked up at him.

“TWO!”

“no?” your voice was soft, and the man just grinned wide at you- and it was clear he was no longer nervous about this.

“ONE!”

“hm,” he hummed, before he leaned forward- and connected your lips to his.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

whoever this was; he could fucking kiss.

he had you bowed to his body, hands directing and tugging your face higher so he could kiss you deeper. his tongue lapped at your bottom lip, running along the seam so he could try and pry your lips open. when you relented, his tongue quickly twisted with yours, and you couldn’t help the keen you let out into his mouth.

he chuckled against you, teeth matching with teeth, and you were both suddenly laughing into each other’s mouths. he tilted your face higher then, using the hands he had on your face in a casual force of dominance that caused you to clench your thighs together. his lips were back on yours, softer maybe, but his tongue still slid into your mouth when you relaxed your jaw slightly.

when you pulled back, you had a piece of mint gum in your mouth- and you popped it against your teeth. the man grinned at you as he leaned forward again, pressing a softer kiss to your lips.

“steve, my name’s steve.” steve murmured into your mouth, and you repeated your name back; nodding when he said it back to you.

“steve.” you murmured, and you leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his mouth. “like it.”

“oh you’re gonna be fun, aren’t you?” steve’s voice was gentle, and you dipped your head in a shy nod, which granted you a soft chuckle that fell from steve’s lips. “yeah?”

“maybe, maybe not.” you shrugged, and steve shook his head fondly as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek.

“god am i looking forward to this fucking year.” was all steve said, and you cocked your head slightly in question.

“what do you mean by that?”

steve responded by pressing his mouth to yours.