#Steve: came lol.

[artiststarme]

Imagine a time loop where Dustin is the only one who knows. He has to watch Steve (the guy he considers an older brother) and Eddie (his role model) flirt a million different ways. Each time they all die before anything can be done.

Finally, Dustin yells at them to do something about it.

“Goddammit! Just make out already! I have lived through this for 67 days, I can’t do it anymore. Stop trying to scar me for life and get on with it or knock it off!”

That’s how the rest of the party find out about the time loop although no one believes Dustin because as soon as Eddie and Steve do “get on with it” by kissing before the final fight, everyone lives and the loop ends.

Even Dustin starts to wonder if it was all his imagination. (Until he re-hears some of the god-awful flirts they use. Then all the trauma comes flooding back.)

[sp0o0kylights]

Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it. 

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it. 

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned. 

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design. 

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy. 

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job. 

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family. 

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead. 

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents. 

How his money went into a bank account they had access to. 

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line. 

And boy, had he been acting out of line. 

 Getting into fights. 

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills. 

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.) 

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for  was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track. 

His own plans be damned. 

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

 “We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot. 

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen. 

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas. 

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!” 

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him. 

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”  

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go. 

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong. 

xXx 

Mike hadn’t cared. 

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months. 

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.) 

Max was the surprising emotional standout. 

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest. 

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them. 

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him. 

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh. 

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again. 

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.) 

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.” 

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy. 

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?” 

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval. 

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”  

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max. 

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed. 

xXx 

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom. 

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble. 

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter. 

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago. 

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck. 

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles. 

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!” 

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.” 

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large. 

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road. 

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone. 

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it. 

Now he just stared tiredly at her back. 

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case. 

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second. 

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it. 

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort. 

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.” 

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone. 

It was just---Nancy did know. 

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life. 

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year. 

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that. 

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down. 

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.) 

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.” 

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to. 

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin. 

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now. 

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm. 

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough. 

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…” 

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them. 

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt. 

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car. 

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit. 

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things. 

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?” 

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.” 

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really. 

Not anymore. 

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused. 

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in. 

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy. 

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’ 

 He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. 

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.” 

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet. 

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise. 

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut. 

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point. 

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand. 

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe. 

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?” 

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left. 

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.  

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin. 

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking. 

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him. 

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal. 

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door. 

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open. 

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to. 

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward. 

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents? 

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes. 

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing . 

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there. 

xXx 

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead. 

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that. 

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it. 

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough. 

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone. 

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him. 

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in. 

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away. 

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.) 

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt. 

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan. 

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can. 

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times. 

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out. 

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.” 

Then; “It gets worse.” 

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans. 

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl. 

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid, 

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.” 

Steve stayed silent. 

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones. 

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.” 

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut. 

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now. 

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--” 

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer. 

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.” 

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry. 

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him. 

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.” 

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done. 

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”  

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie. 

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.” 

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news. 

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.” 

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…” 

He’d put his wife first. His family, first. 

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one. 

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess. 

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored. 

 They’d warned him. 

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic. 

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was. 

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.” 

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle. 

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary. 

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind. 

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come. 

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie. 

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger? 

 Steve would bow to their whims. 

 Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it. 

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand. 

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work. 

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish. 

Steve would try anyway. 

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck. 

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.” 

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine. 

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?” 

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one. 

Not  when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it. 

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.  

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was. 

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him. 

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins. 

No matter how long the engagement. 

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him. 

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think. 

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel. 

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others. 

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin. 

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.) 

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other. 

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?” 

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there. 

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question. 

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway. 

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart. 

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce. 

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest. 

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse. 

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead. 

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly. 

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve. 

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too. 

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!” 

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so. 

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!” 

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either. 

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.” 

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying. 

Speaking of; 

 “When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been. 

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home. 

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice. 

Part Two

[glassofapplejuicee]

Steve’s hand brushed Billy’s as he handed the cigarette back to him. He was surprised he even showed up to prom, he never thought he’d see Billy Hargrove in anything other than skin tight jeans but here he was in a surprisingly well fitted black suit.

And here they were. On the back steps of the school, sharing a cigarette. Another thing Steve would have never guessed would happen in a million years. 

“Pretty boy like you should have a date.” 

“I did. We didn’t click.” 

Billy hummed, bringing the yellow filter up to his lips and taking a deep breath, letting his eyes flutter shut as acid smoke filled around his lungs. 

“Why’d you always call me that?”

He raised an eyebrow, opening his eyes and turning his head to face Steve, gently blowing the smoke into his face. 

“Asshole-” Steve muttered but continued, “pretty boy, why do you always call me pretty boy?”

“I mean I know you aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed but I thought that one was self explanatory.” 

Steve looked at him unimpressed, clearly needing this to be spelled out. Billy rolled his eyes at him.

“You’re pretty.” 

“Right, my bad for expecting a real answer out of you.” 

“That is the real answer.”

Billy looked away, taking a quick drag before elaborating. 

“You’re just, pretty, I suppose. Not many guys are pretty.” 

There was a moment of quiet and Billy swore he heard Steve’s heart beating next to him. Then again, it could have been his own.

“Oh. Well, thanks. I guess.” 

“My pleasure, pretty boy.” 

[ahhrenata]

thinking about steddie time travel fix-its and s1 steve.

[pizzaqueen]

Eddie calls Steve up and he’s like “Steve! I need you to come over ASAP! I’m in a real pickle!” So, Steve goes over and finds Eddie in a giant pickle costume, laughing his ass off

[deoidesign]

A frustrating development with the growing lack of reading comprehension I've personally noticed is an emerging fervor of insisting things aren't canon unless they are explicitly stated beyond all reasonable doubt.

I can not emphasize enough how harmful a mindset this is to have. Yes, it's wonderful to have characters outright say "I'm trans," but to deny a character's identity for not saying that is dangerous.

Plenty of real people prefer not to use specific labels. Historically, people didn't have our modern terms or modes of expression. Many modern cultures don't use these terms, either, and plenty of people within those that do can't safely openly identify.

If the only representation you accept as canon is within modern (and let's be honest, wealthy white able-bodied American) standards, then you are denying yourself and others a huge amount of representation and seriously limiting the media around you.

[hotluncheddie]

Luck o' the Irish

written for the May @steddiemicrofic prompt 'top' !

wc: 510 | rated: T | cw: alcohol | tags: Modern AU, Meetcute, Gay Disaster Eddie Munson, Platonic Hellcheer, Buckingham, Chubby Steve Harrington (as always)

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

‘Stupid water looks gross green.’ Eddie mumbles to himself, leaning on the railing and looking down at the dyed Chicago river.

Someone knocks into him, his beer sloshing onto his hand and all he gets is a distant ‘sorry dude’ thrown his way.

The only reason he’s here is Chrissy’s determination to end his dry spell, which somehow means making him hang out at overcrowded bars on St Patrick’s day. 

He kind of hates it. But he love her, even if hungover Chrissy is like living with a troll... He should ask her if she knows any riddles. 

He giggles to himself and downs the rest of his beer. Gripping the railing more tightly as he sways a little. Maybe he needs a water.

‘Eddie!’ Chrissy squeals, shoving back over to him through the crowd. ‘Look! I made friends! They escaped from Hawkins too!’ She lunges at him, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck and squeezing. 

Chrissy lets go to hook elbows with a tall, freckled girl wearing a forest green button up and slacks. Totally Chrissy’s type. Soft butch, cute. 

‘Hi.’ Eddie waves, giving Chris a look and smiling as the girl keeps glancing sideways at her, like she can’t believe her luck. 

Eddie likes her, he decides. 

‘Eddie this is Robin and, oh, where’d your friend go?’ Chrissy asks, straining her neck and leaning more heavily into the girls side. Freckle girl, Robin, goes even redder. Yeah, Eddie likes her. 

‘Hey.’ Someone says from Eddie’s left. He turns and finds a guy standing next to him, with big soft eyes and green glitter on his cheeks, a green bandana tied around his neck, highlighting his soft jaw. White tank and tight blue jean shorts showing off the hairy chub of his waist and thighs… He’s gorgeous. 

‘Oh! Here’s Steve.’ Chrissy chirps. ‘Robs friend! From Hawkins! Steve this is my friend Eddie, the one I was telling you about.’ Her eyes on Eddie sharp, because she knows, knows Steve is exactly his type.

‘To-top o’ the mornin’ to ya.’ Eddie stammers.

Steve raises an eyebrow. Crossing his arms and Eddie is so not distracted by the way his pecs flex, little peak of cleavage visible at his neckline, flecks of glitter shimmering in his chest hair. 

Eddie snaps his eyes back up.

‘Are you Irish?’ Steve asks.

‘…no.’ 

‘Oh.’ He pouts. ‘Think I can still kiss you later though?’ His finger tracing the neckline of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s Chrissy's from last year, faded green with “kiss me I’m Irish” stretched across his chest.  

Eddie gulps, cheeks going hot, but he manages to nod. 

A smile stretches across Steve’s face, stars shining in his eyes. ‘Well, aren’t I lucky.’ He murmurs, cocking his head to the side. 

‘Let's do shots.’ Chrissy declares, wicked grin on her face and she starts walking to the next bar over, pulling Robin with her. 

Eddie thinks again, vaguely, about water. 

But then he’s distracted by Steve’s fingers lacing with his own, soft smile on his face as he pulls Eddie along with him.  

☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎☘︎

Permanent Tag List (message to be added) : @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

@marvel-ous-m

[ghost-proofbaby]

okay but before i check my inbox can i entice you all in a thought that has haunted me for over a month now

being in a relationship with rich businessman steve harrington and international rockstar eddie munson. traveling with them, the way they would take care of you and never let you ever want for a single thing. steve taking you with him places in his expensive cars, always driving far too fast for the way he keeps only steers with one hand as one always has to be on your thigh to just be near and touching you. eddie flying you with him when he has to travel to studios in california, just for an excuse to see you on a board walk in short shorts and his sunglasses. you’re their trophy wife, an untouchable that every other ceo of the intricate world of businesses spanning across several countries and every single shady musician eddie has worked with knows to not fuck with. tabloids when the three of you attend rooftop parties in italy, pap photos of you tangled up with eddie, giddy off champagne or wine and fancy finger foods you two indulged far too much in as steve is networking. the internet headlines break whenever you attend a charity gala with steve, always looking pretty on his arm as he makes absolute heart eyes at you, his safe place amongst such a cold and frigid world of boring contracts and men twice his age. eddie always making it clear in interviews that he’s your eye candy side piece, claiming that you’ve always been the brains in the relationship while he and steve are just there to care for you. steve getting no work done when you visit him in office. eddie using you (and steve) as his muse for every album.

an extravagant lifestyle, a world of riches, but the best part always being that at the end of the day, both of your boys will always come home to you. every day will always end with quiet nights, the three of you wrapped up in bed sheets, soft sighs and silent contentment as you all finally feel at home in one another’s arms.

[stevethehairington]

steve's in eddie's room, sprawled across his bed, tossing the random rubber ball he found on eddie's nightstand up in the air and catching it before it smacks him in the face as he waits for eddie to get home from work. elton john spins on eddie's record player — he's got a small collection of some of steve's favorites mixed in amongst his own now.

"don't let the sun go down on me" comes on, and steve's softly humming along to it when eddie finally gets home from work, slamming the front door loud enough for steve to hear it over the music. he only has to wait a couple seconds longer before eddie's bounding through his bedroom door and smiling down at steve.

only, his smile falls, head tilting in that way it does when he's listening closely, before his whole face scrunches up. steve prepares himself for eddie to complain about his music choice, but instead eddie says, "someone's trying to let the sun go down on them?" then he cups a protective hand over his junk and grimaces. "yeesh, sounds like that would burn. sir elton's a smart dude telling him don't."

a surprised laugh punches out of steve, a ridiculous grin cracking across his mouth. he throws one of eddie's pillows at him, groaning into the other one as he collapses into it, shaking his head. "you're the world's biggest dork," steve says.

"world's biggest dick?" eddie parrots, letting a salacious grin curl his lips. "mm, i know it is babe, s'a good thing i'm not letting the sun near my crown jewels then," he continues, clambering onto the bed beside steve, rough enough that he bounces a little on the mattress. eddie wastes no time after that manhandling steve until he's flat on his back.

eddie hovers over him, beaming brighter than the sun elton john's singing about.

"dork," steve repeats, enunciating the word. he's already wrapping his arms around eddie's neck though, pulling him down.

"your dork, though," eddie murmurs, nose bumping into steve's as he leans down. the ends of his hair tickle against steve's neck.

"my dork," steve agrees, closing the last of the distance between them and sealing it with a kiss.

[jupiterslifelessmoons]

Anyone: *comes out to steve*

Steve: it is my god given right as a bisexual to judge your taste in romantic parters.

[steddieasitgoes]

Steve’s maternal grandfather was a classically trained pianist. He traveled all over the world as a concert pianist before retiring around the time Steve was born. He takes a job as a church pianist and buys Steve a baby grand piano so he can teach his only grandson how to play. Steve learns how to play piano and read music before he learns how to read books.

His grandfather dies when Steve is 9, and his mom gets upset whenever she hears Steve playing, because it reminds her of her dad, who chose the piano over her most of her life. So, Steve stops playing, not wanting to upset his mom. She tried to sell the piano, but no one in Hawkins is interested, so it stays covered with a bedsheet and locked away in the former music room.

Steve picks it up again when his parents start fighting and his mom starts going on business trips with his dad. He finds himself spending long nights at the penchant, fingers dancing across the ivory keys. He’s rusty at first, but playing the piano is a lot like riding a bike — you never really forget.

He keeps his talent a secret, though. Keeps the piano locked away in the old music room when Robin and the Party is over and doesn't let them down that hallway. Likes that he has something for himself, though he does have moments where he wishes he could share his talent with his found family.

Eddie’s the first person he tells.

They’re hanging out together in Steve’s living room. Eddie’s got his acoustic slung across his lap. Fingers moving up and down the frets. His brows are furrowed, and his lip is tugged between his teeth. He’s been stuck on the same melody for days now and Steve offered up his place, hoping a change in scenary would rid him of his music block.

It hasn’t.

“Jesus H. Christ” Eddie swears, gently moving the acoustic to the side. He throws the rest of his body down on the rug.

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Ed’s. It sounds great.”

“You’re just saying that cause it’s not loud and obnoxious.”

“It is different than your usual sound,” Steve hums, gently guiding himself from the couch down to the floor next to Eddie.

“Jeff wrote a love song for this girl he’s seeing. But he's always sucked at the music part, so I said I’d give it a shot.” Eddie says, raising his arms in the air in front of his face. He starts to fiddle with the large skull ring on his finger. “I think the melody would sound better on a piano but none of us can play so, my acoustic will have to do.”

Steve's not sure why he does what he does next. Maybe it's because Eddie is right, and the song would sound better with a piano, or maybe it's because he'd move the moon and starts to make Eddie Munson smile. Whatever the case, Steve stands. Offers Eddie a hand and hoists him with him.

He starts walking down the hallway towards the room no one even knows exists. Eddie hot on his heels.

"Don't tell me you've been hiding a secret sex dungeon," Eddie teases as Steve raises to his tiptoes to grab the key hidden on the top of the door frame.

"If I had a secret sex dungeon, don't you think I'd have shown it to you by now?" Steve asks, hip-checking Eddie out of the way so he can get to the door knob.

"Fair point," Eddie says.

Steve can tell he's about to say something else, when the door clicks open. The baby grand is still covered with a white bedsheet, but it's easy to make it out. Especially for a music expert like Eddie.

"Holy shit," Eddie says, slowly moving closer to the center of the room as if he's going to startle the piano. "Is that what I think it is?"

Steve nods and begins rolling up the bedsheet exposing the beautiful black, shiny baby grand piano. He tosses the sheet aside and takes a seat at the bench. Carefully lifts the keyboard cover and pats the bench next to him. Eddie joins instantly.

"You can play?" Eddie asks as Steve's fingers start moving across the keys. He starts with something simple, the melody to "Twinkle Twinkle," before moving on to one of the formal pieces his granddad taught him. Eddie sits motionless, eyes darting between Steve's profile and his fingers dancing across the keys. When Steve stops, Eddie lets out a gasping breath. Playfully bumps his shoulder with Steve's. "You son of a bitch! You have been holding out on me!"

"Maybe a little," Steve chuckles. "But not about having a sex dungeon."

"You sure about that?" Eddie says, moving in closer. He rests his head on Steve's shoulder and angles his face so his lips are right next to Steve's ear. "I hear sex on a piano is pretty amazing."

Steve blushes, feels the butterflies fluttering in his gut. He laughs, shrugging Eddie off his shoulder. Playful. Bashful. "Come on, we've got a song to write."

Eddie looks at Steve, even more bewildered than before. This time Steve meets his gaze, takes in Eddie's woofish smile that he's trying to hide behind a strand of hair and his blown pupils.

"You really are my wildest dreams come true," Eddie moans, stealing a kiss. It's a quick but passionate. A reminder that they're not done yet. "Alright, let's get this song done so we can really break this piano in after."

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Steve is a chronic asmr listener and I stand by this!!

He would listen to asmr every once in a while when he was left alone. The house he lived in during high school was perpetually empty and falling asleep to silence is difficult.

He would start out with people tapping on stuff and getting a scalp massage, but then he would evolve into his final form and listen to those self care role plays. Steve would be falling asleep to his metaphorical makeup being done or having an outfit picked out for the ren faire.

What started as listening to asmr only on the bad nights became a daily ritual. Every night at ten pm, Steve would slide into bed, pull up his favorite asmr-tist, and begin to unwind.

When he starts dating Eddie, Steve doesn’t need to listen to asmr because Eddie usually reads out loud from where he left off in his current reread of LOTR.

But, it’s when Steve has a tough day that he turns to Eddie and says, “I know this is weird but can I put on some asmr? It helps me relax and I tend to sleep through the night when I listen to it.”

Eddie is over the moon and is totally ready to try it out, which makes Steve super happy because he was so scared he was going to have to hide his love for asmr like an addiction.

Fast forward a few months and Steve and Eddie have a YouTube playlist compiled of all of their favorite asmr videos that they rotate through. It is also constantly being updated because they are subscribed to ten different channels that update pretty frequently.

Robin finds them in bed, lying on their backs, holding each other’s hands, and breathing deeply to the sound of a calming voice and brushing of hair.

[harrywavycurly]

Okay hear me out for a moment…imagine you dated Eddie in high school and it was just a mess the two of you were just better off as friends but right when you two break up when you’re a little over eighteen you find out you’re pregnant. So now you have to co parent with Eddie but fast forward a few years later and the two of you have gotten into a great routine, your daughter is about to be four and you work at Family Video.

Steve who met you when you came in to fill out a job application has always thought you were cute, like the man goes full on heart eyes every time he sees you. He had no idea you were Eddie’s ex until one morning Eddie came strolling in holding the hand of a little girl who Steve knew immediately was yours because she had your eyes but Eddie’s unruly curly hair. That’s when it all clicked in Steve’s brain, every time you talk about your ex you’ve been talking about Eddie Munson who Steve already kinda sorta shares custody of a group of kids with.

Now Eddie may be an idiot but he knows enough about Steve to know that he has a crush on you, he can tell by the way his cheeks get all red when he’s just looking at you. Eddie doesn’t mind, he thinks dating someone might be good for you because all your “free” time is taken up by Family Video or the occasional girls night with Nancy and Robin. While he might not like the idea of Steve getting to be around his daughter when he’s not there he has to admit Steve is a good guy and also he knows you can handle yourself, a trait he already knows has been passed down to your very headstrong daughter.

You on the other hand are oblivious to the fact Steve has a crush on you, Eddie teases him about his red cheeks in front of you but you’re too focused on restocking the shelves or helping your daughter pick a new bedtime movie. You’ve known Steve for a while now, of course you think he’s cute you may be out of practice with the whole dating and flirting thing but you still have eyes and can appreciate a handsome man when you see one. You just assume he’s nice to everyone and that might have a little soft spot for you because of your co parenting situation.

It’s not until Eddie drops off your daughter one Sunday evening and asks “so has Harrington made his move yet?” that you begin to replay the last few months in your mind and Eddie just laughs as he watches your face go from confused to flustered. “If he hasn’t then you might have to do it for him.” Eddie adds as he hands you your daughter’s backpack. “Has she eaten?” Of course you change the subject because you honestly don’t know what to say and thankfully Eddie is in a caring mood and drops it and answers your question just as your daughter runs past the both of you and into the house so she can go greet her teddy bears she’s missed over the weekend. “I know it’s not my place but…Steve’s a good guy,” you just stand there as Eddie turns to head back to his truck. “See you Wednesday.” He says over his shoulder and you just give him a small wave as you stand there on your front porch holding a backpack as thoughts of Steve Harrington fill your mind.

“No way…” is all you say to yourself as you turn and head inside so you can begin your daughter’s bedtime routine and put the idea that Steve has feelings for you to the side because if he had a crush surely he would’ve said something by now right?

[omg-i-think-i-like-you]

Steve woke up to a loud noise from downstairs. He jumped out of bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He grabbed his bat, and slowly and quietly went down the stairs, only in his boxers. As he was approaching the end of the staircase, he heard the loud noise again, this time followed by soft humming. He kept walking towards the source, the kitchen, when the noise startled him again, and he jumped into the kitchen, holding the bat high and ready.

"Jesus Fucking Christ!" Eddie yelled and ducked behind the kitchen island. Steve lowered the bat, and scanned the very messy kitchen. Mixing bowls and pots were all over the place, along with ingredients that Steve couldn't think of what they can make together.

"Eddie? Did you go to war in my kitchen?" He put the bat on the floor and walked around the island, where Eddie was stretching up and standing again.

"Hi Stevie," Eddie avoided the question and kissed Steve quickly on the lips, who smiled against the kiss but kept his arms crossed on his chest.

"You scared me," He said when Eddie broke the kiss, "I thought someone broke in. Are you trying to cook something?"

"Not trying, sweetheart, I am cooking something. Baking, actually." Eddie smiled cheekily and started picking up pots from the floor.

"Then why are all the pots out?" Steve teased and Eddie stood up and released a nervous laugh, "Well, I... I didn't know exactly where you keep things, so I kinda took everything out?" He rubbed his neck and Steve laughed.

"It's okay," He started putting the pots in place, "What are you making?"

Eddie, relieved that Steve isn't mad, started clapping in excitement, "Hamantashen!"

Steve looked at him, confused, "Bless you..?"

"No!" Eddie slapped Steve's shoulder, "It's food. And it's amazing."

"I want to believe it's food," Steve teased and Eddie crossed his arms and looked at Steve seriously.

"I don't make fun of your traditional cultural food, do I?"

Steve froze in place, "No, you don't. I'm sorry. Wanna tell me what haman... what did you say, tashen, is?"

Eddie smiled, "With pleasure!" He then pulled a chair and pushed Steve onto it, who giggled to himself, knowing Eddie is about to make the explanation into a whole performance.

"It all started in the faraway kingdom of Ahasuerus," Eddie opened and his eyes lit up, "The King of The Persian Empire, who ruled from India to Kush. He was a hedonistic king who had parties and feasts almost every day," He checked on Steve, making sure he was following. Steve nodded and Eddie continued.

"One day, King Ahasuerus was having one of his many parties, when his wife, Vashti, refused to join. Ahasuerus, who had a very fragile ego, took it personally and decided to fire her, and banish her. Silly Ahasuerus, realized soon after that he misses her, and decided to look for a new wife. He sent people around the kingdom and put his eyes on Good Girl Esther, a Jewish sweetheart who was raised by her Jewish cousin, Mordechai," He checked on Steve again, who looked a little lost now, "Are you following?"

"Yes, it's just... Is all of that important for the food?" He asked carefully.

"Yes." Eddie stated, "moving on. Joining the story now, the infamous Haman. Haman was an official in the king's court, and had an order from Ahasuerus himself, that everyone who saw Haman had to bow down to him. They all did, except-" Eddie stopped to see if Steve completes him, but he only tilted his head at him and stayed silent, "Mordechai, Steve! Mordechai didn't bow down to Haman!"

Steve was invested now, "Oh shit, he probably didn't take that well, did he?"

Eddie smiled in delight, "Oh, absolutely not, Stevie, dear. Haman also had a fragile ego, even more fragile than Ahasuerus. He got so upset, that he decided it's required not to only kill Mordechai, but to execute all the Jews in the Persian Empire!"

"What?? How can he do that??" Steve was on the edge of his seat, "Did Ahasuerus agree? Wait! Isn't he married to Mordechai's cousin??"

Eddie held Steve's face, "He is, Stevie, he is." He did a little twirl and continued his lecture, "Ahasuerus is married to Esther, but he doesn't know she's Jewish. Haman came to Ahasuerus and asked him if he can kill all the Jews, and the stupid king agreed. Haman went on with his plan, and even prepared a special tree for Mordechai's hanging," He paused, enjoying Steve's curious face, and proceeded, "The rumour got spread, Haman was gonna kill all the Jews in the Empire and no one was saying a thing," Steve shook his head, "I know, terrible. Mordechai walked around wearing bags, but it didn't do a thing. That until..." He stopped again, teasing Steve.

"Until what??" Steve burst and Eddie laughed.

"Until Ahasuerus found out Mordechai saved his life. You see, Ahasuerus had these two guards who planned to assassinate him, and Mordechai uncovered their plan and saved the king's life."

"And Mordechai didn't want credit for that? How did Ahasuerus find out?" Steve asked quickly.

"He told Esther to tell Ahasuerus. The guards were executed and Mordechai got promoted, but here things get complicated." He paused again.

"How??" Steve stood up and Eddie pushed him back into his seat, giggling.

"Ahasuerus summoned Haman, and asked him, 'what is to be done for the man whom the king wishes to honor?'" Eddie finger quoted the sentence, "Haman, who thought Ahasuerus was talking about him, told him to give him a city, dress him in fancy clothes, give him a horse and have him escorted around the capital for everyone to see. Ahasuerus accepted the idea, and told Haman to do all that to Mordechai."

"Yes!" Steve jumped, "Poetic justice!"

Eddie chuckled, "Yes, but Haman was still gonna kill all the Jews. He went around the capital with Mordechai and cursed every step, having his rage and hate fueled more and more."

"So what happened? Didn't Ahasuerus realize Haman wants to kill the person who saved his life?" Steve asked.

"I remind you, Ahasuerus was very dumb," Eddie answered, "He didn't care about Jews or not Jews, and he didn't even know Mordechai and Esther were Jewish themselves. So what happened, is that as the date came close, Esther started to fast -"

"Wait, what date?" Steve cut him mid-sentence.

"Oh, right," Eddie shook his head, "I forgot that part. When Haman decided to kill the Jews, he left it to fate to set the date. He basically rolled dice, and it fell on the thirteenth day of the Hebrew month Adar, so everyone knew when the mass killing was due. We call it Pur."

"That's intense..." Steve almost whispered, "So all the Jews were just waiting for their death?"

"Almost. They all fasted and wore simple clothes and grieved, but Esther, who was the closest to the king, took it a step further. She was having feasts where she wouldn't eat, and Ahasuerus was getting worried. He asked her why she wouldn't eat or drink, and she said an evil man wants to kill her and all her people. Ahasuerus got scared, and asked her who it is, and that he would kill him immediately." Eddie stopped.

"And?? You can't stop here! What happened?! Did all the Jews die??" Steve started pacing around in worry.

"Esther told Ahasuerus it's Haman who wants to kill all the Jews." Eddie said seriously and Steve started jumping in excitement, and Eddie smiled, "Ahasuerus, who finally found some brains, ordered to kill Haman, who was hanged on the same tree he prepared for Mordechai."

Steve clapped and hugged Eddie, "Yes! Amazing!"

Eddie laughed, "It really was. All the Jews were celebrating for days afterwards, partying and drinking, and everything was good." He hugged Steve back.

"This is such a cool story," Steve said with dreamy eyes, "But what does it have to do with the hamantashen? Wait, it has Haman's name in it??"

"Yes, but it's not like that," Eddie assured, "There are a few interpretations of the meaning of the hamantashen. Some say it symbolises his ears, some say it's his hat or his pockets, but the idea behind it is to celebrate his defeat." Eddie smiled in victory, and Steve smiled back.

"As we should!" He laughed, "But what are hamantashen anyway?"

"Oh, they're cookies. Triangular cookies with filling, traditionally it's poppyseed filling, but poppyseed is disgusting, so I'm putting chocolate." Eddie said and Steve chuckled.

"Of course you are. Can I... help you make them?"

Eddie nodded enthusiastically and the boys got to work. They kneaded the dough in turns, and put it to rest in the fridge for a few minutes. They cleaned up the counter and Steve started washing some dishes, and then closed the tap.

"What holiday is this? Like this story, and the cookies, what are we celebrating?"

Eddie beamed, "It's called Purim, from Pur, fate. We celebrate the defeat of Haman, and how we were saved by the Pur, instead of killed."

"It must be a very happy holiday then," Steve smiled, "Are there more traditions, other than eating Haman's ears?"

Eddie laughed, "Of course there are. First of all, we wear costumes. Purim is the holiday of changed fate, so like Haman was killed instead of the Jews, we symbolise that by being someone else for a few days. We also have a big feast and read the Megillah, the story I just told you," He smiled, "We also make gift baskets for each other, and donate food and money for those who need them. Another thing we do, and you're gonna like that, is to get so drunk, that we can't tell between Evil Haman and Good Mordechai," he giggled, "I know I like this one."

"Do you... Wanna do that?" Steve asked shyly and Eddie started laughing.

"I think you know the answer to that." He winked.

They took the dough out of the fridge, rolled it and cut circles into it with a glass. They then put chocolate in the middle of some, after Steve convinced Eddie to make some with strawberry jam too. They folded them into triangles and put them in the oven, and then Steve poured them newly opened wine.

"Happy Purim, Eddie," Steve clinked their glasses together.

"Happy Purim indeed, Stevie, L'Chaim," He clinked back and took a long sip.

"You made that sound again," Steve said, "Like in tuches."

Eddie started laughing so hard, he had to put his glass down, "Steve, god. Yes, it's the same sound," He kissed him wetly on the cheek, "but it's a very different word. L'Chaim means cheers in Hebrew. It translates to 'to life'. We celebrate life." He smiled, a warm feeling set in his chest. "We celebrate life." He said again, quietly, and Steve smiled at him in understanding.

"We celebrate life." Steve repeated and kissed Eddie slowly and deeply.

The oven rang a few minutes later. Eddie pulled the tray out and a warm, sweet smell filled the kitchen. He put the hamantashen on a plate and took it to the living room, and Steve followed with the already half-empty bottle of wine, and another one he found in the fridge.

Steve and Eddie spent the rest of the day feeding each other hamantashen, getting drunk out of their minds and kissing like it was their first time, again and again and again.

They both passed out on the couch, laying on top of each other, full of wine and hamantashen and love.

Celebrating Life.

[pizzaqueen]

Another pre-slash bit of fluff, this time with hand holding (and more)! 556 words, rated T

Tap tap tap.

Steve’s hand twitches at the three light touches, but when he looks down, Eddie’s hand is resting on his own thigh and Eddie’s looking straight forward. Hm. Maybe he imagined it?

Tap tap tap.

Steve ignores it this time, focusing on the television. He definitely didn’t imagine it, and he readies himself.

Tap tap tap.

He quickly turns his hand over, capturing Eddie’s fingers in his folded palm.

“Aw,” Eddie says, “if you wanted to hold hands, you just had to say,” sliding his fingers between Steve’s.

Steve huffs. “What are you doing, man?”

“What am I doing?”

“Yeah, this”—Steve reaches over and taps Eddie’s hand—“business.”

Eddie lifts his shoulders.

“You’re weird,” Steve says, and tries to slide his hand out of Eddie’s. But Eddie holds tight.

“Nope, mine now.” Eddie pulls their entwined hands to his chest. “Sorry.”

Steve tugs, but Eddie won’t let go. “Fine. Whatever.” He sighs, twitching again when Eddie runs a finger from the heel of Steve’s palm, to the tip of his middle finger.

A frisson of pleasure runs through Steve, but it soon settles into a soft hum beneath his skin. It’s all over, making Steve feel sleepy and relaxed.

The calluses on Eddie’s fingers are only a little rough on the soft skin of Steve’s palm, tracing the lines, running up and down his fingers, tracing the calluses on his own skin, building up again, now that he’s taken baseball back up.

“I know you were being kind of a shit, for whatever reason, but that feels really nice.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah.”

A smile tugs at Eddie’s lips and he brings Steve’s hand closer to him; he looks Steve dead in the eye as he runs his tongue up the back of Steve’s hand.

“Ugh, gross.” Steve jerks away, but Eddie’s still holding tight. “No licking.”

“No licking,” Eddie repeats, a gleam in his eye that Steve doesn’t like, and the next moment he bites Steve’s hand.

“Or biting!” Steve whacks Eddie with his free hand. “Jesus.”

“Okay. I promise,” Eddie says around a grin. He brings Steve’s hand to his mouth again, and Steve struggles—“You promised”—but Eddie doesn’t lick him, or bite him. He presses a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand, making an exaggerated mwah sound.

“What—”

And then Eddie kisses Steve’s hand again, softly this time, looking at Steve from under the dark sweep of his lashes.

Heat shoots through Steve and his heart beats hard. “Um.”

Eddie starts to pull his hand away, but it’s Steve who holds on tight this time. He brings their clasped hands to his mouth, gently brushing his lips over Eddie’s knuckles, watching Eddie as he does.

A faint, satisfying blush creeps into Eddie’s cheeks, and Steve bites back a smirk. He presses his lips more firmly to Eddie’s knuckles, not missing the sharp intake of Eddie’s breath. Then he moves his mouth to the juncture of Eddie’s thumb. Then the middle of his hand, still watching Eddie watching him.

“Steve…”

Steve presses one last kiss to Eddie’s skin—at the side of his wrist, not far from his pulse—and then he brings their hands down to rest on their touching knees, and they watch TV holding hands, Eddie’s thumb swiping over Steve’s skin and Steve squeezing Eddie’s hand tight.

[deoidesign]

Hi, how did you learn to draw Steve's physique?

Ohh what a complicated thing to answer...

When it comes to how I learned to draw anything, it's hard to say anything too specific since it's always a culmination of many years of assorted study and practice... but I can try to do my best to explain some of the biggest things that helped me learn, some tips I keep in mind, and maybe at least some places to start/delve further.

(just a little disclaimer it's not like my drawings here are going to be 100% medically accurate.. they're just to illustrate concepts!)

The main thing about learning various physiques is understanding anatomy. Which feels obvious, but I don't mean proportions; these are important, but perhaps more important is understanding the skeleton and how it moves and learning where muscles connect to bones and where fat grows on the body. When you understand how these function on a more mechanical level, depicting form and movement in a way that feels natural comes in tow.

For instance, understanding things like the pronation and supination of the radius and ulna, as well as the fact that muscles can ONLY contract or relax, will help you understand a bit better which muscles will be flexed and which will not while someone moves. It's inherent to the positioning based on the structural makeup of the body... It's not like you NEED to memorize all the muscles and bones, of course, but understanding and gaining at least a passive familiarity with the concepts really helps.

In tandem with this concept is the way parts of the body flow into eachother. Muscles ALWAYS come in groups because they can only contract. Whatever muscle is there to lift something, there is a muscle on the other side to pull that bone back down. What this results in is a series of straight edges next to curves, which gives us a lot of really lovely "s curves" and dents and folds and so on and so forth just naturally occurring.

I would suggest at least learning the "bony landmarks", which are bones (usually) visible on the surface of the body. things like the iliac crest, the great trochanter, the 7th vertabrae, the acromion process... These can be used to help you understand the parts of the body as angles and relationships, rather than trying to remember lengths and sizes, which vary immensely... (since you asked about steve, he can be our model... also study these on your own don't just take my word for it haha, these are the ones I personally keep in mind)

I've done the same thing with body hair... learning where it grows and in which directions... It helps me make up variations without needing reference, because I have a set of rules I can follow.

The biggest thing that helped me understand all this on a much deeper level was my ecorche course. I sculpted this guy. We started by sculpting the entire skeleton to understand the bones, and then we added muscles on top. Not every single muscle, of course, but the "artistic muscles" AKA the ones which directly affect the surface of the body. Doing this let us see where muscles connect, because we would make a shape, put it on the bone where it actually goes, and then you get to see how other muscles overlap that.

This helped me, perhaps, more than anything else. But I also didn't just start with this course, I had been drawing for years before I even took it. I had been in school for years before I took it. Not that I think it wouldn't be helpful to someone just starting out, but I do think that the more you know going in, the better an in-depth course like this will help you and stick with you. Classes are also expensive, though so I'm not really like... recommending you pay potentially thousands of dollars to take one... But it did help me a lot, personally.

I also, of course, have done many figure, gesture, and master studies...

These just help you quickly gain a stronger understanding of generalized anatomy, and gives you real life examples of and practice with of how people move and balance.

What all this does when combined, is gives me a very solid ability to depict movement and form in a way that feels relatively natural from my subconscious without the need for reference.

The rest of how I've learned to draw his physique is honestly mostly just stylization. I understand the body, and this is how I am depicting it for his level of musculature.

And as I move into depicting him in other ways, either moving in comics or in animation, realistically rendered, or extra stylized, these concepts inform every step of that process for me! When he keeps the same/similar relationships between parts, he gets to still look like himself.

It ALSO really helps when putting clothes on, because the way cloth falls and bunches and lifts is all directly related to the form it is on... So the more you understand that form, the more you can depict clothing and movement in a way that feels natural.

This is all, of course, true when I draw anyone, you asked about Steve so I'm trying to mostly show with him! But because I'm just drawing from raw information of general anatomy rather than trying to study one body type at a time, it allows a lot more "give," I think!

Like, here's most of the cast from TTA so far... actually, they're not as varied as I thought they were nevermind LMAO ignore this part

But, it also makes monster and alien design much easier! It's a lot easier to come up with non-human anatomy when I understand human anatomy, because I can manipulate the knowledge I have...

There is infinite more to study in the world of anatomy... The complexity of the human body goes extremely deep. For our purposes as artists, we need only depict a fraction of it, but more information rarely hurts the process.

I'm sure there's something in here that's wrong on a technical level, I'm mostly going off of memory. But that's kind of my point - I understand enough generally and conceptually that when I am missing something and need to find reference for it, I understand what I'm looking at. It's much easier than trying to learn AND draw at the same time.

I hope even one thing in here helped you! Sorry it's so long.