#chubby Steve Harrington

[scoops-aboy86]

Steve as a late night radio DJ, with Robin as his producer (because my partner has made me watch so much Frasier lol). He's got the sexy voice and Eddie, frontman of successful metal band Corroded Coffin, still remembers him from Hawkins and, ugh.

But, well, his manager set up the interview and it would cause more of a stir to no-show than it would to turn up and bicker with some washed up former high school bully. It's a different city, a different decade; maybe King Steve won't even remember him.

So Eddie turns up, and he actually beats Steve there. To the point of the show starting and it's just him in the booth, chatting awkwardly with Robin to fill the air. It gets less awkward the more they talk, idly catching up on old small town bullshit and what it's like to go from isolated baby queers ("I thought I was totally alone!" "Really? You didn't clock the black bandana hanging out of my pocket for five of my six years in high school?" "Sorry old timer, I was still in middle school for part of that." "Oh fuck off, Ms. 'I went to Sarah Lawrence and all I got was this awesome girlfriend.'" "Sorry Eddie, we can't all be super late bloomers like you.") to Actually Successful And Functioning Adults. (She's kind enough not to mention his single but unfortunately well known brush with rehab, other than to congratulate him on his seven year chip.)

And then Steve bursts in, huffing and puffing and diving for the headphones and mic to apologize to both them and the audience for being late. He doesn't even try to offer an excuse until Robin asks, "Uh, Steve? Want to share with us why your arm's in a sling and one of your eyebrows looks like it got flambéd right off your face?"

Which turns into a very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson ("Oh damn, Henderson! I fell outta touch with him ages ago. How is that little shit?" "Married. He didn't end up converting to Mormonism, but they still have enough kids to make up half a basketball team." "Is that... a lot?" "Six, Munson. They have six kids." "Which is funny, because he made soooo much fun of Steve for wanting that many back in the day." "Yeah. Showed him." "Fuck, my condolences to his wife if they all inherited his big head. You gotta give me his number after this. Or—DUSTIN, if you're listening to your babysitter's show, come to my next concert and there'll be two backstage passes with your name on it! Or, well, that embarrassing nickname your radio girlfriend used to call you, since I think I've blurted out your full government name by now." "That girlfriend is actually his wife now." "No shit?! Wow, I can't believe one of my little lost sheepies has managed to keep the same girl for over a decade. Is she really hotter than Phoebe Cates?" "Oh, she is smokin." "Robin, don't make it weird." "Oh it's okay, she already knows. I told her.") ... A very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson coming over to discuss plans for Ma Henderson's birthday, and bringing a cherries jubilee that Suzie had made so he could literally demonstrate the flambé presentation ("Listeners, I swear I did not know, when I asked Steve about his flambéd eyebrow, that it was a literal flambé accident. Eddie, can you confirm?" "I can confirm, Robin. We received no heads-up calls or messages from Steve before or during the show. It was serendipitous irony, 100% pure.") but poured waaaaay too much brandy on, and then Steve tripped in his mad dash for the fire extinguisher ("He was no help at all, just stopped dropped and rolled right there in the middle of the damn kitchen." "How are his eyebrows?" "Ugh, I have more of them than he does right now but at least his match. Don't worry everyone, he's fine. No nerds were injured in the course of this improv slapstick comedy routine that is my life. I swear to god, I need a girlfriend or a boyfriend or someone reasonable to hang out with besides all you weirdos." "Aw, you love us." "Yeah Stevie, what would you do without your loving nerd squad?" "Yeah, yeah... But don't try to leave yourself out of this Munson, as far as I'm concerned you're still the king of all nerds. And if you're reconnecting with Dustin, you're stuck with us too.") and had to stop by urgent care on the way to work.

Throughout all of this, Eddie is not twirling a lock of hair around one finger... but only because it's tied haphazardly back to keep it out of his face for the day. Steve is different from the guy he remembers strutting the halls of Hawkins High. Still all freckles and hair and charismatic grin, but he carries himself differently. More solidly built in his mid-thirties than his late teens, with a layer of softness that suits him. Calmer and settled, with the kind of confidence that comes with growing up. And the girlfriend or boyfriend thing? Holy shit. Holy shit. King Steve? Who knew? But, well, it explains why Steve and Robin are so close, Eddie guesses.

The Steve Harrington that Eddie had known back in the day hadn't exactly been the worst of the bullies, but he'd been friends with them, and they had spouted plenty of homophobic shit. And Steve had been looking right at him as he'd said it, like he's aware that Eddie is terminally single and maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of a question in his eyes.

Eddie has been publicly out for a while now, and the thing is... Steve is definitely his type. So he leans into it a little, testing the waters. And Steve responds to it like a sunflower greeting the sunrise.

By the end of the show Robin is slapping post-its on the glass partition that read "Get his number dingus" and "Get a room" and Don't make that face at me, yes I do know that he can see these too and I don't care, GET IT or I will recruit Dusty-dun to my cause" and "To clarify, the cause is getting you laid. Eddie, take note, he's allergic to latex."

Permanent tag list (ask to be added, but since I have gotten an influx of new followers lately just know that I write a lot of weight gain kink so like... just be aware): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

[hotluncheddie]

eddie, steve

.🥞✨

‘uh, the pancakes with bacon please, extra syrup? thanks.’

eddie knows that order. he makes it every saturday night, so late it’s almost morning.

but he’s never heard that voice before, never heard it so close, right by the pass window.

he swallows. turning from the sink in the back to face out into the diner, someone’s sat at the counter, right across from him.

the most beautiful boy eddie’s ever seen.

he’s looking right at eddie, cheeks slightly pink, fiddling with a still wrapped straw. he looks perfect and cozy and adorable, hair sleep rumpled and in a hoodie that swallows up his soft lines, making him look even softer.

‘coming right up.’ eddie rasps, his own cheeks colouring.

but the boy, he smiles. ducks his head, looks up at eddie through his lashes.

eddie’s a fucking goner.

-

steve can’t believe it. his eyes are even bigger this close up, big and brown and sparkling with life.

his hands are just as nice this close up too, delicate but capable as they move around where steve can see. he sticks his tongue out a little when he concentrates. it’s adorable.

he’s the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

he puts steves finished pancakes in the window with a little smile, rings the bell and seems to blush even harder. almost cringing at the sound. it’s makes steve laugh, he’s cute.

and they’re still the best pancakes the midwest has to offer, at denny’s, at 3am. even sober and nervous and exited like he is.

steve can’t help closing his eyes like always when he takes his first bite. always blown away by their sweet fluffy texture. and he makes his way through them a little quicker than normal, without robin to distract him.

they taste as good as normal but he’s right there. right there watching steve eat them. something about it makes him feel shy, barely daring to look up from his plate. but when he does the line cook has the softest smile on his face and steve relaxes, tucks his hand under his hoodie to rest on his stomach like normal. finished his pancakes.

when steve looks up again, the guy is staring at his empty plate, kind of stuck in space. but then he vanished for a moment and the door to the kitchen opens. and he’s coming over, picking up the syrupy plate and he has freckles, bats tattooed on his arm.

he’s so close. he’s so pretty this close.

the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

‘eddie?’ steve blurts, exited, finally able to read his name tag. his names eddie.

his name is eddie.

eddie’s cheeks get pink, the tips of his ears. he looks at steve with wide eyes ‘yeah?’ he asks, voice small and confused.

steve grins at him. ‘your names eddie.’ and he watched eddie’s smile bloom, he has dimples.

‘wha’ eddie clears his throat. ‘what’s yours?’ and steve feels his heart burst, feels like sunshine and crisp leaves.

‘steve.’ he says, a little breathless.

‘steve.’ eddie whispers.

‘when do you go on break?’ steve asks, heart beating in his throat.

eddie just shrugs, eyes still wide. ‘whenever. as long as there’s no customers in.’ and steve realises he’s the only one here. it makes him blush more, for some reason.

‘make us another batch?’ he asks, deciding to be brave, leaning over the counter, just to be a little closer. ‘we can share.’ and it’s so worth it. to see the smile grow on eddie’s face, watch him nod, watch a curl slip out of his bun. watch him work his magic through that little pass window. stealing glances at steve as he goes.

-

watching steve enjoy his food is even better close up. even better than eddie could’ve imagined.

they’re sitting in steve’s usual booth, eddie’s where robin normally sits, he finally has a name for the cool girl steve hangs out with. gets to hear a little about how they met, can tell he loves her, so much. it’s sweet, his eyes shining as he talks.

so is the way steve cuts the pancakes, sweet, pushing perfectly stacked mouthfuls towards eddie to have. pancake, bacon, pancake. all covered in syrup, sticky and delicious.

eddie never really even liked pancakes much, more of a waffle guy. but sitting here, watching steve eat them, laughing and smiling at things eddie says. jaw just a little soft, upper lip smattered with hair. watching steve sigh and stretch when they’re done. that hand coming to rest on his stomach again, the way it always does, every saturday night.

eddie knows he’ll always love pancakes.

-

‘how do you get them to be so good?’ steve asks, hand circling eddie’s wrist loosely, stopping him before he goes back to his job, an orders come in, he has to go. but steve needs to ask, wants to know. wants one more moment with him.

eddie smiles, takes steve’s hand and kisses the back of it. and it’s so out of place, at denny’s, at 4 am that steve giggles, almost manic. it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘they’re made with love sweetheart.’ eddie says, looking up at him from his bow, kissing his hand again before walking away. the napkin with steve’s number on tucked safely in his back pocket.

steve’s forearm scrawled in the black ink of eddie’s own.

steve goes home and falls straight to sleep. so late its almost morning, like every saturday night.

he dreams of brown eyes, and syrup.

<3

fin.

ty for reading! mwah!

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @spectrum-spectre @stevesbipanic @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @acedorerryn @scoops-aboy86

[flowercrowngods]

still on my journey to get better at smut, so uhhhh

chubby!steve fucking eddie at a highschool reunion

(explicit, ca. 1.1k | dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex??)

Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan as Steve lifts him off the ground, crowding him against the wall with all that glorious, glorious strength, manhandling Eddie like it’s nothing. If his dick weren’t already painfully hard and throbbing with need, it would be now, trapped as it is against Steve’s belly. It’s the hottest thing Eddie’s ever experienced.

“That what this is, baby?” Steve taunts, slowly grinding against Eddie, the bulge in those preppy-ass pants hot and hard against him.

Eddie moans again, shaking his head in denial even though they both know it’s useless, pointless. He’s been exposed. Quite literally, too.

“You think I’m sexy like this? I make you hard just from looking at me? Don’t think I didn’t see you there, Munson.”

God, the mouth on this man! Eddie never did stand a chance.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid, letting me manhandle you like that. Think I can fuck yon against the wall, Eddie? Hold my dainty little princess up while I fuck all the words right out of your dirty little mouth, hmm?”

Eddie moans again, his hands finding their way into Steve’s hair, tugging and pushing and pulling him closer, closer, closer. He needs more. He needs Steve to do all of that and more. Come inside him, mark him up, let it trail out of him while they return to the gym — or leave him like that for everyone else to see, everyone else who happens to walk by this abandoned classroom in search for some privacy.

It’s been ten years. Ten years since Steve Harrington in all his glory graduated school and left Hawkins behind.

And oh, those years must have been glorious for him if he looks like this now. Bulky. Strong. Magnificent. Like he’s finally grown into that muscle he’s always had and polished it up with some softness.

Eddie was hard the moment he laid eyes on him.

And now here they are — in their old science classroom. If there were any coherent thought left in his mind, he’d make some quip about finally getting some biology lessons.

As it is, though, Steve surges up to claim his lips in a searing, filthy kiss while he divests Eddie of the rest of his clothing.

Eddie is naked now, trapped against the wall by that magnificent bulk of a man who is still fully dressed save for his suit pants being unbuttoned and that white dress shirt open all the way, exposing his hairy chest and tummy. The need to touch him is stronger now than the need to be fucked brainless, and Steve’s groan when Eddie runs his hands up and down those large pecs is absolutely worth the momentary lack of friction.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, unaware of the words leaving his mouth until they find their mark, making Steve falter in his frantic movements.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows. “Always wondered what you’d look like now. Hoped for this.” He trails his hand down the prominent happy trail, all the way to where Steve’s cock is still trapped, leaking against his underwear.

They both moan as Eddie feels him up, gently jerking him as much as the angle allows, and Steve meets his movements with thrusts of his own, which in turn provides friction for Eddie’s throbbing erection.

God, this man is glorious. He wants to shout it from the rooftops.

“That so?” Steve murmurs, hands coming up to Eddie’s hair again, one of them trailing down to his lips. “King Steve was never enough for you, hmm? You wanted more. Always knew you were a greedy little slut, Eddie Munson. Practically begging for it with your little stunts. Wanted my eyes on you, didn’t you? We’re always so stupid for me.”

He moves his hips in a particularly mean thrust that makes Eddie keen, one finger moving past his lips for Eddie to suck while the one in his hair pulls meanly before coming down to his cock, jerking so hard and fast that Eddie’s legs quiver. Not that it matters, with the hold Steve has on him without even using his hands.

Eddie has nowhere to go; one finger in his mouth and a skilled hand on his dick. He doesn’t want to go anywhere. He wants to stay in this moment forever. Wants to tell Steve as much — stupidly — but all that comes out is a series of “Ah—ah—ah—ffffuck!” as the man renders him useless.

“All you had to do was ask,” Steve taunts, condescending in every possible way, and Eddie almost blows his load just then.

“P—Please,” he manages around Steve’s finger in his mouth, and the asshole speeds up. It’s all Eddie can do to shake his head, to whine between his moans and let him know that, No, not like that! “Want you. Need you.”

“You have me,” Steve whispers, his lips touching Eddie’s in an almost-kiss that is so intoxicating Eddie loses all sense of self for a second there.

“Fuck me,” Eddie whines. “Please. F—Fuck me against the wall, fuck the words right, right outta my mouth, fuck— like you said. Like that. Please.”

And oh, Steve does. Prepares him on four fingers until there are no words in Eddie’s brain anymore, clamps his hand over his mouth because “I don’t want anyone to find you just yet, baby. Want you all to myself. Want your cum on my belly and have you clean it up, eat it all like the filthy slut you are.”

He fucks him deeper than anyone’s ever fucked him, leaves him trembling with need even after he’s come twice, splattered Steve’s soft belly with it and almost came a third time just from that vision alone.

“One more, baby,” Steve tells him. “One more for me, then I’m gonna fill you up just like you want it, yeah? Fill you so good, mark you up so everyone knows you spread your legs for the King like my pretty little concubine. My pretty little princess, hmm? You gonna come again for me? Can you be a good boy for me?”

Eddie can. He comes with a muffled shout, adding a third load to Steve’s skin, framed by his otherwise pristine suit in what must be the most obscene vision Eddie’s ever seen.

Steve strokes him through it, gentler now, telling him how proud he is, how good Eddie was for him as he thrusts his hips one, two, three more times before he, too, finds his release in Eddie’s body. Well, in the condom; they’re not stupid. But a man can dream.

And, oh, does he dream. With Steve still inside him, his hips bucking with aftershocks as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, licking and sucking and biting.

Eddie will always dream of Steve Harrington. Especially after tonight.

was gonna put this in @hotluncheddie’s ask box but then it hit 1k so here we go instead i guess

[killianthebee]

Steve who starts gaining weight and instead of getting insecure, just becomes more confident. He's happier this way, he thinks he's even more attractive this way too. He still works out, he still likes sports but now he likes eating just as much. He starts wearing crop tops and shorts and others things he would've never worn when he was thinner. The kids don't comment on it but he sees their smiles as he instantly reaches for snacks. The adults stop reminding him to eat, Mrs. Henderson only sends him home with food because he likes her cooking. Robin playfully smacks his stomach and likes to cuddle with her face in his tummy. Eddie loves the new Steve. He constantly touches his belly, his thick arms and thighs. He watches Steve eat with a loving and fond smile. He stocks up on food in preparation for Steve coming over. He's always found staring at the little bit that peeks out over Steve's jeans.

[steviewashere]

The Bow on a Gift

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Internalized Fatphobia, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Negative Body Image, Body Dysmorphia Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chubby Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues, Steve Harrington Has a Bad Mom, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Chubby Chaser Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss

I'm a fat guy and this is partially based on experience. So you will be nice, or else. (There's nothing I'll do, but I am scowling, if you must know.)

Read on AO3

💕—————💕 Steve Harrington was a chubby little kid. You wouldn’t know that unless you asked directly, but it’s true. He’d been a little boy with dirty blonde hair, sun kissed cheeks, and a thick body sturdy enough to climb trees in his backyard. He didn’t parade this information around, though. Not with the voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like his mom; telling him to drink another glass of water instead of getting just one more scoop of food, to check the nutrition label on his packet of cookies (and to stop eating them immediately if the first ingredient was sugar; which it was, it always was), and to stay away from certain foods. Candies, chips, carbs—anything his mom disapproved of, labeled unnecessary and innutritious.

So, his relationship with food and body went from: This is good. To: It’s no longer good enough.

He had slimmed down over the years, no praise towards his eating habits. This was pure just working out through sports and gym class. His meals were portioned out to him by his parents, served to him as seen fit in school, or packed to be the best of the best. Always without the addition of some sort of snack food. Bad food, as it had been deemed in his house. Junk food, as it had been deemed by the public.

Other kids would offer up single Oreos from their sack lunches. He’d shake his head with a wry smile, say something about ‘watching his figure’ (like his mom would say), and go back to eating whatever meager meal was in front of him. A tuna salad sandwich some days. Water and a salad—leaves wilting and dressing a little left of good sour—on others.

He mourned those little moments of indulgence in his day. The couple little chocolate candies he could have before going to bed on Halloween night. A snack cake from the Byers family next door. His very own baggie of Doritos to go with his freshly made turkey sandwich, the champion’s meal after long days spent in the pool. And so his relationship with food and body went from: It’s no longer good enough. To: There’s nothing good about it.

Steve Harrington was a chubby kid. But he won’t talk about it, not really.

Though, he sort of has to now. Now that he’s thicker again, soft belly and chunky thighs and meaty arms. Now that the world ending fights are over and he’s relaxed and a little more sedentary than he was. Now that Eddie is giving Steve sad, cow-like, brown eyes whenever he mentions ‘watching his figure’ or being ‘not hungry’, or when he looks at a freshly taken Polaroid and asks a little too loudly under his breath ‘is that what I really look like?’.

——— Eddie’s sitting on the couch next to him. He’s shirtless, fresh from outside in the pool, eating away at a bag of Ruffles he brought with him. There’s an open can of Coke on the coffee table, gently popping and foggy from the fridge. The bag is shifted between them, open side towards Steve.

He eyes the chips inside. The dark orange coating—cheddar and sour cream flavored. Knows that if he takes even one, he won’t be able to stop himself. That he’d probably eat the whole bag. Because he’s done that before. After he’d not let himself indulge in snack foods, he’ll do that. Take in whatever junk food item he can find, hide away in his room, and eat it until he’s either sick or can’t stomach anymore. Usually the former happens before he knows it.

They look tantalizing though. And his tongue salivates at the mere thought of them. Imagining the salty goodness flat on his tongue. The savory notes of cheddar. What it would be like to give in could only be described as a dream.

“You wanna few?” Eddie asks around a mouthful. He absentmindedly scratches at his belly, Steve watching. Looking between them. At his own body, where he’s begun to develop a little pouch of a belly, folding over his older, tighter Hawkins High sweatpants. Then he peers at Eddie’s, lithe, thin, fit as a fiddle—even though Steve watched him devour an entire pizza outside, even though he had a few ice cream bars, even though he’d guzzled down some beers.

Steve knows as soon as he eats one of these chips, everything his mom said will come true. That it’ll go straight to his waistline. That he won’t be able to shed the pounds. That he’ll be a disgusting mess. Even though this body is comfortable, a little warm, entirely soothing. Even though he could see himself chubby again and know that he’d recognize himself. He looks like he did just before high school, before he really started to lose weight, when he was the happiest he’d ever been.

“Nah, I’m good,” he relays through a tight, fake smile. “Had quite a big lunch not too long ago, remember? I’m trying to watch my figure.” He pats his own center for good measure. Palm meeting soft cushion, like he’s patting a pillow. But he’s all too aware that’s his own middle he’s touching. Grimaces at the realization.

Eddie eyes him for a beat. Chewing stopped, food swallowed, not going back for more. He not so subtly wipes his crummy, greasy chip fingers on his swim shorts. And just keeps looking. “Why do you do that?” He asks bluntly.

Steve chuckles nervously. “Do what?”

“You make these awful comments about your body. Why do you do that?”

He scoffs. “Like you weren’t already thinking them, Eddie. I’m fat. And I shouldn’t be eating all this shitty food.” His hand rests on his middle, scrunching his fingers lightly, feeling that extra padding through his t-shirt. Feels like he should’ve grabbed a different shirt. Something looser. Something less outlining, skin-tight. It doesn’t actually fit against his skin like plastic wrap, but it tries to.

As Eddie continues to stare in stunned silence, Steve retreats in his mind.

Thinking over how a lot of his clothes have become tighter in the last several months. Thinks over everything he ate today—a slice of pepperoni pizza (‘Too much bread, Steven,’ his mom’s voice states), four glasses of water, a banana, the chocolate bar Robin threw at him (‘Think of the sugar, Steven! That’s awful for you,’ his mom rings out again), and a single beer (‘Beer? Really? That’s alcohol, Steven. God, you really are like your father’, and that particular comment stings. His dad is a bigger guy, has a bigger gut, wears larger clothes. It stings.) He kind of wants to cry. To hide. To run away.

So that’s what he does. He stands abruptly from the couch. Eyes on him, still, burning and observing. Seeing exactly who he is and how he’s shaped. And he darts up to his bedroom—trying not to focus on how parts of him jiggle or how parts of him slap against the other or how his sweatpants shift in a way that pinch him because they’re too small. He slams his door shut, locks it, and stuffs himself at his desk. And 'stuffs' feels right because his chair creaks, it squeezes him. He can feel it. Feel himself. Knows every little movement he makes and how it makes him look.

And his eyes drift over to the few pictures he has framed on his desk. Some of Robin and some of Dustin. One with Eddie and Mike. Then, one that particularly irritates him, is a photo Eddie sneakily took. Of Steve laying on one of the loungers outside, shirtless for once, belly spilling over the waistband of some swim shorts, hairy and soft. There’s a roll forming under his chest. And he squeezes the equivalent of that now, noticing that it seems bigger than the picture is making it out to be. Looks harder and notices his chest has grown to be a bit flabby, moobs. Eyes scrutinizing the way his ankles are bigger and his watch is tighter on his wrist and that he’s laying on his chair in such a way that there’s a more pronounced double chin. He squishes that, too. The heft of his fat between his fingers. And for a moment, he kind of wants to throw up.

His cheeks are warm under his fingertips. Squishy. Pinch-able. And his fingers are thick, thicker than he remembers them being. His feet feel wider when he flexes them under his desk. Every little bit of him is softer and more humiliating and just a little more disgusting.

This was a safe body at one point. The softness in it was comfort. And the warmth it carried was a balm. But it’s just this. A terrible reminder of how selfish he is, how over-indulgent he is, how much of a mistake he’ll always be.

He shouldn’t do it, but he looks back at the photo. At everything about him. The roll and the moobs and the soft underbelly. The thick neck and thicker legs and widening wrists. And then his eyes drift back to his center. Noticing, for the first time ever, that he’s got those red stretch mark lines forming on his hips and near his belly button.

Remembers, only some short years ago, when he was stout and chubby and still a pre-teen dorky kid—how his mom would make all sorts of ugly comments about those lines. When she’d see the silvery ones left after giving birth to him, the way her fingers would trace them and she’d scoff. Or how she’d see them on his dad’s hips, making some short comment about how fat his dad was getting. Remembers the look of hurt that would flash over his dad’s face—quick and subtle, but contorted and downward and sour nonetheless. And he knew, still knows, that sometimes his dad can be a total asshole—college and work and doing good in life all stark reminders of failure—but knowing that even the biggest, toughest, and smartest of guys can be knocked down with statements like that…It always made Steve feel just a bit sick. He knew he’d never be perfect in their eyes, but something about his physical attributes being all that matters to his mom, that hurts. He may never be the smartest of their family tree or the best, but at least his dad can find respect for him in other regards—knowledge about cars or sports or hugs given after rude comments from his mom.

There was no respect for Steve’s soft body, though.

And how was he supposed to respect his own when it was nothing to everybody else? When it was gross, unflattering, the topic of every conversation? When he was peered at like a bug, poked and prodded, scarred?

He gently rolls the t-shirt he’s wearing so that it sits just below his pecs. And looks down. Lifting up a love handle to really get a good look. There they are. Red, fresh, scarred reminders of just how awful his body is.

Nobody likes the fat kid. Not his mom. Not his middle school gym teachers. Not his old friends. How is he supposed to believe that this body of his is liked now? All he’s heard is negative. And negative it must be.

A knock on his bedroom door breaks him out of it. “Steve?” Eddie’s soft voice flutters in.

Steve sniffs, unbeknownst to him that he was crying. He hastily wipes at his cheeks. Choked, he calls out, “Please go away, Eds.”

Eddie sighs gently. Rests his head on the door, his hair rustling from how he shifts. “I’m sorry for bringing it up,” he sincerely apologizes. “I just…I don’t know. It makes me upset to hear you talk like that.”

“Yeah, well—“ His voice crackles, attempting to be stubborn, but sorely failing. “—It makes me upset that you have to see me like this. I’m…Eddie, I’m fucking ugly, don’t you get that?”

For a long moment, Eddie doesn’t speak. And in that time, Steve thinks he left. Left because he realizes that Steve’s right, that he is some ugly mess, incapable of being loved correctly. But then the gentlest voice Eddie’s ever carried comes through. “Baby, you’re not ugly.”

Steve’s chin wobbles, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I am, Eddie. I am—“

“I look at you, Steve and see somebody I want to know infinitely,” Eddie admits quietly, bulldozing the claim Steve was making. “You’re someone that I seek out, a person I find comfort in. You are…” And he swallows heavily. The sound unmoored by Steve’s shaky breath. “…You are so damn beautiful to me. I—I know that’s hard to believe, probably with how you view yourself, but it’s true. I enjoy the fact that you’re relaxed enough now to indulge, to grow comfortable. I love the way peace wears itself on you, Steve. You’re beautiful, you’re everything, you’re…Steve, you’re somebody I love so deeply that I can’t fathom viewing you any other way.”

Slowly, Steve comes back to the door. He twists the doorknob, listening as Eddie shuffles back a couple half-steps. And opens it just enough to peer through. Eddie’s soft, sad eyes are on him again—not observing, just looking. There’s something warm in his gaze though, a warm blanket stretched between them that Steve wants to nestle in.

“Do you really mean that?” Steve asks a little breathless. It sounds whiny to his ears, maybe a little petulant. But Eddie doesn’t look affronted by it or mad. Just disheartened.

He nods gently. “Yeah, sweetheart. I really do mean that. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Even though I’m…Though I’m fat?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers immediately. And another part of Steve preens, loving that Eddie didn’t say something stupid like, ‘You’re not fat.’ Because so many people have said that. Too many people have said that. “Steve you could be in any kind of body and I’d still think you’re beautiful. And…uh, it’s kind of odd to admit it, but maybe I have a preference for chubby people?”

Steve snorts and opens the door a little wider. “Really?” He asks, a semblance of teasing back in his voice. “Is that really something that does it for you?”

“There are so many places on you that I can use as a pillow. Or that I could bite. You’ve got more space for kisses! Steve, think about how many kisses I could give you!” Eddie emphatically states. He grows a little meek-ish, though, when he continues. “And, honestly? I’ve been attracted to you since like…seventh grade. I’ve literally seen you in all shapes, all sizes. My attraction to you has not wavered, tell you that much. The chubby bit is like a giant bow on top of an already amazing gift. Y’know the kind of bows that are sticky on one side? The ones you sometimes stick to your forehead and then you keep afterwards because you liked how shiny it was and your mom says something like, ‘Why on earth are you keeping that?’ and then you say you like it because it’s pretty and then she rolls your eyes and lets you keep it, but then you’ve got like something really cool and awesome and memorable in your hands and you just kinda want to cradle it forever? That’s—“ Eddie takes a heaving breath, washing out Steve’s tiny fit of giggles. “—That’s…I want to hold you in my hands and keep you forever.”

Steve takes a step out in the hallway, grabs Eddie’s hand, and leads them back into his bedroom. He’s still laughing as Eddie squawks, blushing furiously, nervously chuckling back. He takes Eddie’s face between his softer hands, relishing in the way he reaches up and grabs onto Steve’s wrists. Thumbs running warmly over pulse points. “You’re such a dork!”

“And you’re such a beautiful person, Stevie.”

He leans in, resting his forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. Hands falling down to his biceps. Squeezing. “You’re such a dork,” he reiterates, voice soft and awed. “And it’s the nicest thing in the world. But I…” Steve looks back up, chin digging into Eddie’s chest, peering up reverently just as Eddie does the same downwards. A hand cups the back of his head, running over his hair. “I need you to know that sometimes I still feel bad.”

“Means I can remind you more just how much I love you.”

“And I have a bad time controlling my food habit bullshit.”

Eddie shrugs. “So I’ll be there to help you out, no biggie.”

“And I have stretch marks.”

Warm hands travel up and down Steve’s back. And…yeah, it feels nice the way Eddie’s palms glide over his softer parts. How they tenderly hold him. He doesn’t feel bad, not within these arms. “I’ve seen ‘em,” Eddie admits quietly. “You wanna know what they mean to me, though?”

“Hm?”

“It means that you’re comfortable enough to relax. To let yourself…be at peace. And the best thing about ‘em is that they’ll turn silver with time. Shows to the world your survival, sweetheart,” Eddie explains. Voice gentle, seeking. Loving. “Means that at some point in our lives, whatever stretch marks you have will fade just like the other scars we share. They’ll just become another memory of yesterday. And that I can admire them when we’re a little more wrinkled, wrapped around each other in bed, sharing kisses like secrets. Means that we won and I got to keep you as my prize.”

Steve shifts his hands from Eddie’s biceps to his face again. Holding him just as soft as Eddie is. Just enough to squish his cheeks, just enough to feel him, but not smother him. And he pulls him in. Rubs his nose against the tip of Eddie’s. With all the adoration he’s ever felt for Eddie—enough to make him want to burst with it, enough to warm him, enough to paint him golden—he kisses him. No tongue, just a press of lips. Chapped skin and tiniest bit of crumbs that Eddie, somehow, did not wipe away completely. He kisses just to transfer. A love so all encompassing, it needs nothing more than this, nothing more than softness and warmth and the two of them in a small space. His love for Eddie, kept away and flourishing like greenhouse flowers. And just like those plants, he can share this love, keep it comfortable and year-round.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips. Pulls back slightly to gauge all of Eddie’s face. Adoration gleaming in his chocolate eyes. “I wish I had better words to give you.”

“When I have you in my arms? There’s nothing else that’s better, Steve. I could have you just like this forever, deaf and blind and mute, and I would view it as heaven.”

Steve sniffs, again, unknowingly crying. But Eddie thumbs away his tears as if it’s nothing. And maybe it is. Maybe he doesn’t have to worry so much with somebody like Eddie. “You’re a sap,” he gently teases. But then his face gets serious again, tone shifting once more. “You wouldn’t mind that I kept my body like this, though? This genuinely wouldn’t bother you?”

“Chubby chaser,” Eddie states, pointing at himself. “If it was bothersome, ever, to me, you’d have to kill me. Because that definitely wouldn’t be me, babe.”

He smiles, teeth and all. “Good because I…I do like this body a lot, even though it seems like I don’t. It’s just shit I’m working through, y’know? But I like being able to just let go. Be at peace, so you said.”

Eddie hums. Presses his hands into Steve’s back. Kisses him softly, just to kiss and nothing more. “Then just be. Do it for you,” he whispers.

“Okay, Eds. I’ll try.” At that, his stomach grumbles. He chuckles, moment ruined. “We should go get something to eat,” he suggests.

“Yeah? I heard there’s this bag of Ruffles downstairs that your…boyfriend?” Steve nods, answering wordlessly. “That your boyfriend tried to offer up earlier. Maybe we should eat that.”

Steve nods. “We should see how many we can stack on our foreheads. My record is ten.”

“And you say I’m a dork.”

“You are a dork.”

Eddie smiles, lets Steve guide them back downstairs. Murmurs, “And you’re beautiful.”

💕—————💕

[crayonboxcolors607]

There are days when Steve wakes up and he hates his body. Looks in the mirror, disgusted, at the scars across his torso and neck, the stretch marks on his stomach and hips. How his thighs rub up against each other when he walks, how they expand when he sits down. Pulls meanly at the chub that’s accumulated at his tummy and chest. 

After the upside down, after everything, Steve gained weight.

Eddie says it’s because he wasn’t constantly in fight-or-flight mode anymore, and his body was finally able to relax.

Robin says it’s because he was destined to have a bit of a dad bod, that it was just the ruling of the universe.

He still works out though. He’s in great shape too. Goes on a few-mile-long run every morning. lifts three times a week. The only thing he’d strongly refused was dieting.

Steve remembers how his mother would come home from her trips with his father, her cheeks gaunt and pale even through her makeup. Her thin frame hidden by a ridiculously expensive shawl.

How she used to sit him down and force him to separate “good foods” from “bad foods”.

How there were never any sweets in the house.

Back when Steve was young enough to need a nanny while his parents were away, he would beg and plead with her to just let him try one piece of candy. One lick of a lollipop. The closest he ever got was three dark chocolate baking chips.

Afterward, when he was left alone, when he was responsible for feeding himself and getting groceries, he would stand in the produce section for fifteen minutes, his mother's voice ringing in his head. 

The first time he went to a movie and bought himself a soda and popcorn, he had to leave halfway through to cry.

The first time he had real candy, he almost had a panic attack.

It took him way too long to reteach himself about food, how to remember that food is food and food is fuel. That he should be listening to his body and eating what he wants when he’s hungry.

And here’s the thing. Steve knows that he’s the healthiest he’s ever been. Sees it in Mrs. Henderson’s eyes when he drops Dustin off, how he no longer hears her fussing about him being too skinny.

In Joyce’s smile when he gets up for seconds of his own cooking.

In Hopper and Wayne’s approving ‘dad nods’ when they all sit down over meat from the grill.

So on those days, when Steve wakes up and doesn’t feel like he’s right, he tries to remember that instead.

How Robin curled up against him one movie night, pausing before stating decisively, “You’re softer now dingus. It’s nice. Gives me the best pillow.”

How El will give him hugs that are tight tight tight and tell him he looks like a teddy bear she used to have.

How Eddie will absolutely worship him.

If that man could die beneath Steve, he would. Is far too obsessed with the way Steve’s ass moves.

They’ll get home from hanging out with the Party and Eddie won’t wait a single second before shoving Steve against the wall, mouthing at his neck.

How he pushes Steve onto the bed against his stomach, his face rubbing against the sheets as he braces his hands on Steve’s thighs in a way that causes bruises. Fucks his tongue into him, slow and sinful, telling him, “Go on sweetheart. That’s it, just like that. Doin’ so good for me.”  How Eddie moans like Steve is ambrosia from the gods and Eddie can do nothing but lap at their fountain.

How afterward, after steady thrusts and cries of each others’ names and the cooling of dried come, Eddie will cradle Steve close to his chest. Will whisper, “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re it for me.” How he’ll sing him Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears, because as much as he preaches about hating the conformist bullshit and the top forty hits, he loves to see his boy happy, wiggling in Eddie’s arms as he sings Steve’s favorite song.

[chrisbitchtree]

The thought of Steve one day having a Hopperesque dadbod and Billy worshiping it with his hands and teeth and lips and tongue, moaning as he bottoms out, bucking against Steve’s plush ass, groping his soft, hairy pecs, marking up his thick thighs with dark purple love bites, taking naps with his head cushioned on Steve’s belly, telling anyone who’ll listen about his hot as fuck husband is what keeps me going day to day.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

okay so this one has been bouncing around in my head. transfemme!stevie who starts estrogen and her weight redistribution coupled with a bit of happy relationship weight leaves her with no concept of women’s clothing sizing and what actually fits her, especially because it’s so variable by brand. she gets so frustrated in the dressing room when the cute jeans she picked up in medium and large won’t pull beyond her plump thighs, or when certain dress material doesn’t have any give. eddie on the other hand loves to watch the way his favorite girl’s body is changing. eventually, she stops caring as much and most of her clothes fit tightly on her curves, and eddie often finds himself on his knees sucking stevie off when she gets home because of how exquisite she looks in her new clothes. the lingerie is even better because it doesn’t have to look presentable, so her new boobs and fluffy hips look wonderful when they’re adorned with lacey teddies or red thongs. -🫑

🫑anon!!! My heart 🥰🥰🥰🥰

This is so cute and precious to me. I'm such a transfem Stevie truther and this is just soooo good. I can see them dating from pre-transition and then Steve comes out and Eddie is so supportive (Bi/Pan Eddie 🥰), so excited to get to call his Stevie his lady, princess, babydoll, sugar. And Eddie's always been the gift giving/physical touch type, it's just that the gifts of his love language typically tend to be food. Steve's favorite snacks, extra helpings here and there, a sonic run when he's had a bad day.

And like I soooo saw exactly the scene you were describing. Steve's body starts softening, weight distributing to her chest (thanks titty Skittles) and, low in her belly, her ass, hips, thighs; growing beautifully plump and pear shaped. And she's finally ready to start feminizing her wardrobe more. She's been growing out her hair, Robin and Nancy have been helping her with make-up. But she doesn't understand any of the sizing and they couldn't be there to help, and she's too afraid to ask any of the department store staff for help. So when none of the jeans she picked out fit up her thighs, or over her ass, and the dress that does fit is tight and conforms to all of her curves, her flaring hips, and outlines her belly, and she nearly melts down in the changing room. But Eddie comes in and just holds her and tells her how beautiful she is, and looks for some stretchier stuff, grabs a couple higher numbers for now to see how they work. And Stevie has calmed down and is about to undress out of the dress when Eddie's suddenly hugging her from behind, love in his eyes looking at her in the mirror, and he drags his big hands along her sides, emphasizing her figure before rubbing and cupping that soft lower swell that the velvet dress displays prominently saying "Fuck me running, Stevie. This is the best part of dresses" so earnest and aroused, his hot breath in her ear. She can feel him, hard, behind her and looks at herself through his eyes and it's just 🥰🥰🥰.

He can't help himself when they get home, he wants a fashion show, to see her in everything... especially the new stuff they got from Victoria's secret. Like the lacey black cheeky tangas and the starter bralettes and push-ups since Stevie's been getting so busty.

Eddie can't help himself, he gets her out of the lacey bra and sucks her tits, feeling up her ass (giving it a sharp slap to hear her moan), her hips, her gorgeous belly, kissing down her body, biting into that buttery soft roll, before settling his curly maned head between her creamy warm thighs, smacking a loud kiss to her inner thigh, before sucking her off like a hoover.

Stevie has her fingers buried in Eddie's hair, grabbing, and grounding herself on his expert mouth work, his ridiculously talented tongue. She knows she's squeezing her thighs a bit hard, but he's not complaining and he just gives herself over to feeling sexy, beautiful, loved. Because Eddie loves everything about her.

Leads to transfem!chubby!Stevie diner au

[scoops-aboy86]

Your Smile Is My Favorite

Prompt Used: Summer reading (@thehairandthebanished) and cheesy pickup lines (@softsteddieseptember) | Your Smile Is My Favorite | Rating: T | CW: mild body image issues | Additional Tags: chubby Steve Harrington, gay Eddie Munson, pining, bizarre communication through intricate pickup line rituals, Robin loves these two idiots

I wrote most of this while on a 11 hour car trip, I’ll post it to ao3 later. 🥱 Still the 4th in my time zone though!

It’s hard to stay absorbed in a book when Steve Harrington is swimming laps in his little red shorts, but Eddie is managing. 

Sort of. Kinda. 

Okay, not really. Or at all. 

But he’s read Return of the King so many times before that he can fill in any paragraphs his eyes accidentally skim over from memory, so it’s fine. And he definitely rolled high on stealth by being smart enough to bring sunglasses, because Middle Earth has nothing on his view of Steve’s chest while the guy does the backstroke. 

Earlier in the summer Steve would have been poolside with Eddie and Robin, sprawled out in the sun snacking on pizza and chips with them and letting Eddie draw him into their umpteenth debate on which is better, Coca Cola or Mountain Dew. Now he’s going at it in the pool like he has something to prove, or diving in over and over while complaining about his form. 

Which, Eddie thinks, is a very fine form indeed. He’s thickened up some since their harrowing adventures last Spring Break, transformed from merely good-looking to downright beefy in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water and fingers twitch with the urge to rake through that tantalizing chest hair, test the give of Steve’s deliciously softer pecs and stomach. It’s starting to become a problem. 

As if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, would have an easier time concentrating on a book about the Party’s adventures if Arwen were parading around in front of him while scantily clad, Eddie thinks, trying to make himself feel like a little bit less of a pining loser. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Robin says, sounding bored from the next lounge chair over. She hasn’t even looked up from her own book. 

Eddie considers protesting. He could; they’ve never actually discussed the way they’d clocked each other as queer during Spring Break, he has plausible deniability. 

Instead, he says, “Got a camera you can loan me, Birdie?”

She snorts, sliding her bookmark into place as she turns towards him on her lounger. “No, but now that we’re talking about it, can we talk about how your crush is visible from, like, space?”

“He is not!” The protest tumbles out of him before Eddie even thinks about it, and his cheeks immediately flare red under layers of sunblock. It’s not like Robin would talk about the way her platonic soulmate had recently put on some extra weight like that, Eddie is just a moron. Well, he’ll just have to blow past it and pretend he’d been… bluffing about his crush not being Steve. Yeah. “Uh, I mean. Fuck, I’m not being too obvious, am I?”

Robin’s grin is smug, and definitely a little bit at his expense. “Not really. You’re super easily distracted when there’s more people around, so the kids haven’t picked up on it yet.” She glances back at the pool and the expression softens to amused affection. “It’s written all over your face right now, but I’m pretty sure dingus over there has this fixed idea about your type being all dark clothes and leather and tattoos. He’ll never figure it out on his own, completely hopeless.”

That’s a relief to hear. Eddie relaxes beneath the shade of his poolside umbrella, glances down at his book again… 

And snaps it shut and scrunches up on his side to face her too. He’ll be able to find his place again later, more or less. The occasional splashes of Steve reaching one side of the pool and flipping around to swim back fades into the background for the first time all day in the face of this new, unexplored conversational territory. 

“So,” he says matter-of-factly. Because he’s reconciled with this a long time ago: Robin has literally helped save his life a number of times, she’s safe. “Clearly you’ve got me all figured out. And there’s no way you could be around that all the time and still get anything done without being… oppositely inclined.”

She nods, and the teeny tiny bit of him that had been braced just in case he was wrong relaxes. “Yeah. I don’t see the appeal, but I’ve literally seen a few girls walk into things when they catch sight of him.”

Eddie snickers, like the hypocrite slightly wired on nerves and relief that he is. Curbs, trash cans, the glass doors of Family Video… he’s been there, done that, and been forced to turn it into a bit so no one catches on to what all of those instances had in common. (Steve smiling at him. Steve looking at him. Just, Steve.)

“Not as many lately though,” Robin confides, a little sad. “Shallow bitches.”

“Shallow as hell,” Eddie agrees. One hundred percent. “They have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

“It’s taking a toll on him,” she continues. “You know, how his hair kinda deflates a little when he’s bummed out? Those great big puppy dog eyes come out and it’s all—” her voice drops in a possible Steve impression “—‘Is it me, Rob? What am I doing wrong?’”

Eddie huffs a wordless disagreement with that whole sentiment. Wrong with Steve? Wrong with Steve? There’s nothing wrong with Steve, in his opinion. Badass scars, heart of gold, hair of the gods, and a little more meat on his bones making him even more solid and dependable? Sign Eddie the fuck up. 

Sure, there’s also the nightmares and a general jumpiness whenever the phone rings or lights flicker or a radio starts to crackle, but the same can be said of pretty much everyone in the Party, Eddie included. It’s perfectly understandable after everything they’ve been through, the number of times they’ve helped save the world. 

“I think that’s why he’s leaning so hard into swimming again,” Robin adds. And even though she seems totally casual, there’s something… not pointed, exactly, but definitely not dull behind her words. She’s giving him a look that Eddie can’t figure out, because he just doesn’t have the same kind of in-tune-ness with her that she and Steve display on a regular basis, having conversations with nothing but stares, blinks, and funny eyebrow twitches. 

He tries anyway. Even pushes his sunglasses up into his hair for a clearer look, but message not received. Frowning, he glances over his shoulder at the pool again. “Because he’s… upset about not going on dates lately?”

Not that Eddie had been paying attention or anything. Not that he’d daydreamed hopelessly a few times that it was because Steve was hung up on him, lingering a bit more than necessary when dropping off and picking up the kids on Hellfire days. Inviting Eddie to hangout days like this. Taking Eddie up on it whenever he offers to smoke the guy out, usually when they both have dark circles from sleeping poorly blooming under their eyes and everything about the no longer in peril world around them feels like too much. Springing for fast food whenever they get the munchies, since Eddie supplied the grass…

“Because he thinks there’s something wrong about him,” Robin corrects, “that he needs to work out.” 

Oh. What—oh. Eddie blinks, reorients, and realizes that the thing he hadn’t been able to read before is concern. “But… he looks so good,” he says dumbly. 

Steve is self-conscious about his weight? Oh no, that won’t do at all. Eddie’s mind is already racing through ways to reassure their friend that he looks great, fantastic, amazing, all the positive adjectives that he knows. He wants to build Steve up, make sure he knows that there are definitely people who would absolutely jump at the chance to be with him. 

Or, you know, right here. Or something. 

Splashing sounds draw his attention back to the pool, and it’s Steve wading up the shallow end towards them, apparently tired out for the time being. And Eddie… panics. 

“Damn, Harrington,” he blurts out, “is it hot out here or is it just you?”

Which is. It’s. Something out of that terrible pickup lines book one of the Corroded Coffin guys found at a yard sale a few weeks ago—he can’t remember who exactly, maybe Jeff?—that they’d all howled over, reading the worst ones out loud in ridiculous voices. Why the hell is that what popped into his head?

Steve pauses with one foot still in the pool, squinting at him. “Uh… It’s definitely hot today. Are you… overheated or something? I could get you some ice water.”

“No, I’m good,” Eddie manages. And then, because he’s an idiot, he continues, “Have I told you lately that you’re very attractive? You must eat magnets for breakfast.”

He catches a glimpse of Robin out of the corner of one eye. For a second he hopes that she might step in and save him from himself, but nope; her face is frozen in a look of appalled fascination. No help coming from that quarter. 

“I,” Steve starts, stepping the rest of the way out of the pool and putting both hands on his hips like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “Dude, are you high?”

If only he were. The proximity of Steve’s naked, dripping wet chest and the gentle roll over the top of his swim trunks seems to have roughly the same effect on him though. 

“Nope,” Eddie squeaks. His face feels incandescent, and he can’t even blame it on a sunburn. And still he opens his mouth again, because he’s already gone this far, might as well commit to the bit. “But we should smoke up later, sweetheart. I think weed be really good together.”

That one wasn’t from the book. It’s an Eddie Munson original. If death took him now, he would not hate it. 

Steve looks to Robin, who shrugs and throws him a towel. He catches it and starts drying his hair, returning his attention to Eddie with a perplexed look. “Low blood sugar?” he asks, and it takes a second for Eddie to place that Steve is still trying to guess why he’s being so weird. 

As if the Freak of Hawkins needs something so pedestrian as a reason. 

“We can order pizza,” Robin suggests in a strangled voice. She’s trying so hard not to laugh, which is good. Probably. 

Eddie can muster a little gratitude for that, right up until he opens his mouth again and “Oh, are you craving pizza? Because I’d love to get a pizz-a you” falls out. 

… Maybe he does have low blood sugar. Or, like. A brain tumor or something. 

Steve sends Robin another look, then shrugs and heads inside the house. Presumably to order pizza, and hopefully for Eddie’s sanity to put on a shirt. 

As soon as the glass door slides shut behind him, Robin whips around and whisper yells, “What the hell was that?!”

Eddie throws himself back on his lounger and covers his face with both hands. “I don’t know. I wanted to cheer him up, make him feel good about himself or something, but—”

“And you thought hitting on him would do the trick? Very badly, I might add!”

“Oh, like you know anything about what works when hitting on dudes!” Eddie shoots back, even though she’s right. So very right. Cruelly correct, to a poor gay man who is suffering. 

He rolls over on the chair, only putting a knee or elbow through the plastic straps beneath him a few times before flopping face down and tugging his own unused towel over his entire head. It’s almost restful under there. The lounger cradles his face a little too high because the back is still angled slightly up for, you know, lounging… and Return of the King is dry and solid under one shoulder, twisting his frame a little oddly, but other than that…

~

By the time Steve comes back outside, Eddie barely notices. He feels slow and drowsy from the heat, everything muffled by the towel. But he does hear a scrape over the concrete beneath him and cracks an eye open to peer through the gaps in the chair. 

It’s a slice of pepperoni and extra cheese on a paper plate, positioned directly below his head, right where he can smell it. 

Fuck, okay. He can’t not get up for food freely offered. It’s just not how Wayne raised him. 

“There you are,” Steve says brightly when Eddie emerges and resituates himself with the plate in hand. “Feeling better? Seemed like the heat was getting to you there.”

“Must’ve,” Eddie replies with a weak laugh. “Thanks.” For the pizza, and for allowing him some semblance of dignity to fall back on after… whatever that had been. Because Steve, above all else, is a good dude; something Eddie has been all too aware of for over a year now. 

Steve passes him a can of Mountain Dew and taps his own Coke can against it like a toast. “Don’t mention it. And, uh, Eds…” He’s starting to smile, just a little. “I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I think you're the gratest.”

Somewhere to Eddie’s other side, Robin chokes on her drink and has to cough a few times to clear it. 

Eddie just stares, jaw dropped open and feeling flushed all over, heart in his throat. Even with his hair still wet and smelling strongly of chlorine, Steve has somehow retained that signature swoop. Maybe he fixed it while he was inside, procuring pizza and slipping into an old and raggedy high school gym shirt that makes him only slightly less biteable. 

And that smile, fully bloomed now and brighter than the afternoon sun. Like he’s decided, playfully, to meet Eddie at his level no matter how dumb it is. 

“Alright,” Robin rasps. “Okay. I’m just gonna go inside to finish my summer reading while you dingi do… whatever this is.” Followed by the creak of her chair as she clambers off. 

“Don’t mess with the thermostat,” Steve calls after her. He turns slightly to do it and releases Eddie from his tractor beam stare, letting Eddie breathe again—when had he stopped doing that? And then those hazel eyes are back on him, hypnotizing. “Well? Cat got your tongue, or do you have any more?”

The words are… different, now that they’re alone. Quieter. Steve is leaning forward slightly, legs over the side of the chair as he faces Eddie. Elbows on his knees and Coke can dangling forgotten from one big hand. His stare is intense in a way that is almost too terrifying to try to read into. 

Eddie wets his lips nervously. “No, I… I’ve got more.” He sits up a little straighter, turns to put his feet down on the shaded but still warm concrete and face Steve head-on. “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”

It sounds, feels, almost terrifyingly like a confession. 

Steve’s grin gets impossibly brighter and Eddie is back to not daring to breathe, because what is happening. “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.”

Which is. That’s. Does he? Eddie is having some sort of out of body experience trying to think back. 

The part of him that’s still anchored in bones and nerves and skin takes a deep breath. Committing to it. 

“Of all the beautiful curves on your body, your smile is my favorite,” he hears himself say, and it’s probably the plainest, most honest words he’s uttered in his entire twenty-one years of life. 

It’s not like he thinks Steve is going to punch him for saying it. Or even for saying it like that. Good dude, inescapable. But he wasn’t expecting the guy’s eyes to go big and molten, or for him to swallow hard, all while that amazing smile never dims. 

“I’m… Shit, I’m going to give you a kiss, Eddie. If you don't like it, you can return it.”

And then Steve leans forward, and does. 

~

Half an hour later, Robin comes back outside to check on them and finds the two young men twined together on one lounger. Steve is sprawled half on top of Eddie, who looks like he’s holding him in place with both legs and teasing a half eaten slice of pizza against Steve’s mouth. Steve snaps at it with his teeth, and Eddie yanks it away but then goes back in to tap it against his lips anyway with a laugh, loose and easy. Happy. 

They both look so happy together. 

She knew it. All she’d had to do was get those two pining idiots talking about something real—even if Eddie had surprised her with a deeply unexpected means of doing so. Whatever, he’s weird, nothing new there. The important thing is that her plan to end her two best friends’ ridiculous mutual pining for one another had worked. 

And Steve hadn’t believed her when she’d insisted that the metalhead definitely doesn’t think it’s a bad thing that his clothes all fit a little more snug these days. Ha. One more tally on her own You Rule column. 

Feeling magnanimous, Robin decides to wait until they’re done with lunch to turn the hose on them. 

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[hotluncheddie]

denny’s line cook eddie who always works the weekend night shifts. they start late enough to still let him still play gigs, awake and wired and needing something to fill his hands. every week though, he falls more and more in love with a boy that comes in late every saturday night. so late it’s almost morning.

he’s usually giggly and tipsy and flush, always sitting in the same booth with the same girl (maybe the coolest girl eddie’s ever seen). he always orders the same plate of pancakes and bacon and always closes his eyes so sweetly around his first bite. like he’d been thinking about it all night, like he couldn’t wait, like he’s starving.

eddie watches him, from his little window at the pass, watches him enjoy the food eddie made him. always in whatever club outfit he’d decided on that week, sometimes mesh shirts that show of the bit of softness at his middle. or with a hanky around his neck like a cowboy. or with glitter on his cheeks and shorts cut so high eddie’s left breathless over being able to see the squish of his thighs, the curve of his ass. sometimes though, it’s just a polo and jeans, and thats one of eddie’s favourites, it’s when he looked most comfortable.

every saturday eddie watches him have his fill, sit back in the booth and sigh. lay a hand on his stomach lightly, with delicate fingers and a wide palm. and eddie falls more in love.

he always watches the two leave, now quiet and sleepy after winding down for the night, and eddie sighs sadly every time, when he hears the bell tinkle and signal their exit.

he doesn’t even know his name.

steve 🥞

final <3

(this was gonna be a little thing for @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx 5+1 but then i decided it should just go here <;3 @pearynice & @scoops-aboy86 think u might like it too <3)

[iwriteweightgainbullshit]

chubby steve harrington makes me go insane especially when it’s steddie

Hey anon!

You and me both.

Steve relaxing after Vecna and gaining a few pounds. Being all insecure at first and hiding from Eddie.

Eddie confronting him about this and telling him he likes it.

From there it all changes...

Eddie will feed Steve in bed while telling him how beautiful he is.

Steve becoming all chubby and cuddly, Eddie's perfect princess.

What do you think anon?

Thanks for leaving an ask btw <3

[steviewashere]

I'm about to respond to AO3 comments, now that I'm migraine free and have a clear head. But I just need to share this soul warming comment I received. (Blurring username just in case, but this is not a negative thing at all)

And if you didn't read this fic, which is totally absolutely fine, I wrote a chubby Steve Harrington work. Where he's got this negative mindset towards being bigger because of past comments made by his mom (something I dealt with via my grandmother for years and ongoing). And then he makes a comment about his body in front of Eddie and Eddie's put off by it because he thinks Steve's literally beautiful (chubby chaser Eddie, my beloved). And they get all sappy with each other and Steve realizes he can be at peace and not worry with Eddie. And so on and so forth (they get together and it's cute).

But I wrote this initially to make myself feel good about my body because I had a moment the other day. Where I saw a photo of myself and literally said out loud in front of my stepdad, "Is that what I look like, god..." and then he gave me the saddest eyes I've ever received from a grown adult. So I just needed a space to work out that comment and maybe hear something nice about a body like mine (self-indulgent fic, also my beloved).

Anyway.

Don't let anybody ever tell you that your writing isn't impactful or doesn't make a difference or that it's stupid. You never know who needs it. And this comment alone has made me extremely proud of what I've done.

Like I legitimately read this a minute after it came in and cried.

Thank you to this user and everybody else who's commented on this fic, it really truly means something. Love y'all. <3

If you'd like to read this work, here's the link on Tumblr and here's the link on AO3

[kassifieddocuments2]

@your-confused-friend you win a free [bonus content] actually.

werebear steve who. yknow. gains bear tendencies. it's mid-summer and Bear Brain™ tells him to Eat For The Big Sleep (even though he Does Not hibernate because he's still a Person). he's even softer. even tummier. he's sleepy as hell all of winter. his appetite does a bear thing and lowers then too. <- this sparks Concern in those who Don't Know. like eddie. who thinks he's feeling bad about not being in shape or something. but steve thinks it's a great fuck you to anyone who thought his worth was in his looks (stupid ass beauty standards). he's still got a good amount of muscle underneath anyway so it's not like he's weaker now. he swims in the river looking for salmon or smth every month. unless it's winter. then he sleeps through the full moon.

okay but eddie who's convinced steve's a werewolf and steve who finds it absolutely hilarious because he's like. a werebear or something.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

I can't stop thinking about that GORGEOUS chubby transfem!Steve post so I bring you: transfem!Stevie who starts working as a waitress around the same time she starts hrt and blames most of the weight gain/distribution on hrt and not all the comped entrees line chef!Eddie makes for her. Pls see my vision I don't have the motivation to write the whole thing

Continued from Transfem-Chubby!Steve Post

Ok first of all I'm thinking of Stevie is a cute little Robin's egg blue uniform with an apron and I'm drooling and crying it's so cute.

I'm so weak and crying for line cook Eddie too. He'd be sprung from day one, obsessed with Stevie! (And like I don't want to dwell on it because passing is not something I focus too much on, but Eddie seeing a visibly queer early transfem Stevie he'd just get it and be so attracted to Stevie as a woman)

Maybe let's consider disowned trans girl Stevie so happy to have a job, and Eddie who is like how can I keep this poor girl fed, very good Appalachian boy I ain't got much but what I have I share. Eddie messes up orders. He tries not to be too obvious about it. Includes onions when he shouldn't, a bit too much salt, slightly overcooked... accidental double portion...all to make sure Stevie is eating.

Then on top of that, he comps her meals on company time. He knows how to make it work. And it doesn't take too long for him to realize he's given himself a front row seat to the pawg-ening of Stevie Harrington. Like filling out and redistributing weight in all the right places. That cute little skirted uniform is getting tight, she's really starting to test it's limits. Her boobies look so cute pushing out of the slightly deep cut neckline. Eddie gets blushy and tries to look away when her ass and belly start being harder to cover with the dress, like just at little moments, like accidentally showing when she bends over.

And stevie is like at least loving the softening and filling out, but can't believe hrt has really plumped her up this much. She's really not complaining. There are worse things. But for some reason she never considers that it could be the handful of mistake orders, on top of comped meals that Eddie is treating her too each week.

God Eddie would be so weak for her, absolute simp vibes. I would love more prompts for this idea, I feel like I could turn this into a fic...

[scoops-aboy86]

Rockstar Eddie Munson taking his husband Steve on a tour of Europe. They’re well past their Upside Down days, both starting to go a little gray. Eddie has his wild stage antics to stay in shape for, but Steve with his school counselor desk job has softened considerably over the years. 

During their stop in London, Eddie brings Steve to the Ritz and treats him to an extravagant afternoon tea. The next table over seems to be doing the exact same thing, a tall and wiry man with red hair and sunglasses passing little plate after little plate to a rather more portly fellow with white-blond curls who every now and then gives happy little sighs and pleased little wiggles, just like Steve. 

“Eds, can you pass me more of those round pastry things?” Steve asks, reeling Eddie’s attention back in to focus on how content his sweetheart looks, trying a little bit of everything to start and then moving systematically through the rest in order of alright to favorite. He looks, Eddie thinks, only a few minutes from surreptitiously unbuttoning his pants and untucking his shirt, prepared to leave it that way for the long haul and probably all the way back to the hotel. 

“Of course, angel,” Eddie replies, reaching easily for the requested dish. 

He doesn’t notice Sunglasses at the next table looking over with a raised eyebrow, suspicious at first but then softening into a huff of amusement at who knows what. Or the little wave of the man’s hand, a few extra plates appearing on both his and Steve and Eddie’s table. Or the blond man smiling beatifically with a honeyed, “Oh Crowley, you old sap.”

[scoops-aboy86]

Eddie only moves after seven minutes because Steve comes over, crouches down in those slightly too small swim trunks, and starts rubbing suntan lotion on his back because he’s already starting to burn like an egg in a frying pan.

I truly believe in my heart of hearts that when Steve gets past like...25 years old he puts on a good amount of weight, gives up on contacts, and becomes the thick, hairy man he was always meant to be.

And he fucking loves it.

In fact, I think when someone points out the way his body has changed he gives them the nastiest, most confused stink eye and basically says "and what about it?"

Steve actually becomes even more confident than before because not only does he love the new look, but the guy he's been almost-something with for the last five years can't seem to get enough of him. That first summer of Steve's new body after a productive winter, Steve shows up to the first group swim day with shorts just this side of too tight, tortoiseshell glasses, and a hearty chest covered in hair and Eddie very promptly trips on nothing and stays there on the ground for a full 7 minutes coming to terms with Steve's unprecedented levels of hotness.