#steddie fanfiction recs
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sombersynth Ā· 2 years ago
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do you have any favorite fic authors?
Oh boy, do I! I wish I could give them all little trinkets and treats, they're all so amazing. I love literally so many, far too many to count, but check out my fic recs and you'll have so many beautiful worlds to dive into! These authors are ones that have quite literally changed my brain chemistry, though. Like, altered the course of life, branded my soul type of amazing, so check them out!!
@azrielgreen / OonionChiver - AO3
@judasofsuburbia - AO3
Anonymous on A03
@thorniest-rose / Honeyvenom - AO3
@eddywoww - AO3
3Minsover- AO3
@gorgeousgreymatter-x - AO3
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infinite-orangepeel Ā· 2 years ago
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i donā€™t want a ā€˜careerā€™ ! i want to write sexy fanfiction for my internet friends <3
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arimakes Ā· 8 months ago
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Two men walk into a gay bar.
One thinks heā€™s straight, one thinks heā€™s vanilla.
Both of them... are idiots.
Steddie | Explicit | Modern AU Eddie's Bisexual Awakening, Steve's Kink Discovery Six Chapters Completed @strangerthingsreversebigbang Co-Written by @mojowitchcraft & @arimakes Art by @arimakes
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Read on AO3
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lexirosewrites Ā· 2 months ago
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hi!! i love all your stories and read them all (my three favs are Bandaids for the Heart, And the Sun Will Rise, and Bleeding Heart ā˜ŗļøšŸ„°) but i have been rereading so many of my bookmarked stories and i need new steddie omegaverse fic recommendations if itā€™s not too much to ask?
iā€™ve been struggling to read lately so this one has been in my inbox for a while. iā€™m gonna give you my recently read fics as well as my all-time favorites from my bookmarks, with the hope you find something worthwhile! (please check tags on the individual fics)
2024 Reads:
šŸ’› ā€œfeel forever its soft fall and swellā€ by hesjustlikemefr, 34k words
šŸ’› ā€œPrincess Jazz and Calamity Meg (Single Dads Go to the Zoo)ā€ series by @fayefayefaye90, 20k words
šŸ’› ā€œFree-Use Health Careā€ by @midsummer-semantics, 9k
šŸ’› ā€œlike rabbitsā€ by crybaby, WIP 23k
šŸ’› ā€œAnemoneā€ by @teddywesworl, 28k
šŸ’› ā€œNone But Youā€ by @itcanbepalped, 13k
šŸ’› ā€œRoom 414ā€ @oh-stars, 9k
šŸ’› ā€œBearer is Entitled To...ā€ by @starshideurfics, 9k
šŸ’› ā€œMy Loneliness Is Killin' Me (Baby)ā€ by Anonymous, WIP, 18k
All-Time Favs:
šŸ’› ā€œSimple Biologyā€ by @boltedfruit, 28k
šŸ’› "among the leaves sae green" by @starshideurfics, 37k
šŸ’›"Nurse Harrington" series by @itcanbepalped, 13k
šŸ’› "Remember Me, Love (when I'm reborn)" by @stevebckley, 34k
šŸ’› "Could you coo, could you care?" By @mixsethaddams, 13k
šŸ’› "Build a Life with You" by @starshideurfics, 86k
šŸ’› "pull my body back and whisper in my ear" by @catknives, 33k
šŸ’› ā€œdown to the studs/like a bitch in heatā€ by @itcanbepalped, 22k
šŸ’› "Yeah, you made me feel" by @whataboutthefish, 85k
šŸ’› "it must be something in the water" by @r-o-s-e-f-i-r-e, 13k
šŸ’› "Suspended Bridges" by @kiaramori, 243k
šŸ’› "Six Kids and a Winnebago" series by @oddree13, WIP 105k
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little-annie Ā· 3 months ago
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Thanks to the @strangerthingswritersguild for the prompt and @eyesofshinigami for the brain worm šŸŖ± our conversation created.
Did you know in fan fic writing the term Rubber Ducking refers to bouncing ideas off of each other/ brainstorming with friends? Well I didn't. I thought it was a sex thing.
From that, this idea was born.
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Rubber Ducking | M | 873 WC | Steddie | Buckingham
It was a cold February night when the first sighting occurred. The air in the apartment had felt different. Charged with an electricity Robin couldn't explain.
Something was happening. And at first she had thought it was an anomaly, then maybe a coincidence.Ā 
But then it kept happening.Ā 
Those black empty eyes met hers and mere hours later the sound of the city was lost to the wails of the night.
It sounded like torture.
Like the stripping of flesh and bones.
But even more horrifically, Robin learned it was anything but.
Sure, there was flesh and bone, but how Steve apparently getting absolutely railed by Eddie in the next room over had any connection to the rubber ducky that ended up on the living room coffee table every so often, Robin hadn't the slightest clue.
She just knew that unfortunately there had to be one.
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A few weeks later, sitting at the breakfast bar and trying to ignore the low hanging neckline of Chrissy's already frankly obscene tank top, Robin notices the presence of yet another rubber ducky.
This one donning a Sailor's hat and suit. Similar to the one she remembers her and Steve wearing in their days at Scoops Ahoy.Ā 
Not twenty minutes later she's met with Eddie asking if she knows where Steve hid his old uniform. Regrettably she tells him, and that night goes to bed taking precautionary measures with foam plugs in her ears.
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The following week there's a light blue ducky on the coffee table instead, then a grey ducky the week after. Then after a few more weeks there's what appears to be a leather daddy ducky.Ā 
Sometimes in between there's a plain normal rubber ducky.
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ā€œYou figure it out yet?ā€ Chrissy asks one evening, plopping down onto the couch next to Robin and setting her feet in her lap.
God what she wouldn't do for this girl and her polka dot pink fuzzy socks.
Looking over at the boys who are now apparently disgustingly in love, and currently trading lazy kisses and giggles back and forth in the loveseat, Robin sighs, ā€œUnfortunately.ā€
She nearly had the code cracked before a drunken Steve had told her what it all meant.
Original Ducky = Someone is horny.
Sailor Ducky (Sir Butterscotch) = Someone wears the Scoops uniform.Ā 
Light Blue (Richard) = Someone wants to give / receive head.
Grey (Bari) = Someone wants to be tied up/do the tying up.
Leather Daddy = "You really don't want to know Robin.ā€
So essentially flagging, she figures, but with various types of rubber duckys, which is horrific in its own way.
Now when one of them is feeling it, they pick a rubber ducky of their choosing and leave it out on the coffee table as a subtle way of asking for the represented attention.
ā€œSex Duck,ā€ Robin sighs, leaning her head against the back of the couch, turning to look at Chrissy, ā€œThey have a fucking sex duck.ā€
ā€œLike that show with the sex mug?ā€
ā€œLike the show with the sex mug.ā€ She answers flatlyĀ 
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Sure seeing the ducks at home was bad enough, but when they started appearing in the wild it was so much worse.
First in Steve's car on the dash, then Eddie's van, then one day at work when Eddie came sauntering in and pulled a light blue ducky from his pocket, tossing it in Steve's direction before walking off towards the employees only bathroom.
They think they're subtle, but really they're not.
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It's just another Tuesday evening when a new ducky makes its way onto the coffee table in the living room. Traditional like the first, but donning a pink bow and black painted on lashes. Feminine. Cute.
Like a game, Robin's began trying to decipher the meaning behind every duck before Steve inevitably tells her. It helps her cope with the trauma.Ā 
This one though, makes her wonder.Ā 
Sitting on the couch staring probably a little too intensely at the newest addition to the boys collection, Robin hardly notices when Steve plops down beside her.
She startles when she notices him, his voice catching her off guard. ā€œWhatcha doing?ā€
ā€œTrying to figure out what kink of yours this little lady represents.ā€
Steve hums and Eddie joins them shortly after, settling in the rocking chair across from them, giving the ducky the same odd look Robin had been moments ago.
ā€œWhatcha doing, Buck?ā€
She gestures to the duck, ā€œFiguring out her deal.ā€
Feminization maybe?
ā€œChrissy?ā€ Eddie asks
ā€œWhat?ā€ Robin looks up from those cute long lashed eyes, ā€œNo. Your duck.ā€
Next to her Steve huffs a laugh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the couch. ā€œNot our ducky, Rob.ā€
What?
ā€œCourse it is.ā€
ā€œNot our ducky, Babe.ā€ Eddie repeats Steve's words.
It has to be. ā€œWell it's not mine.ā€ Robin grumbles.
ā€œNo, no Rob it's not.ā€ Steve nudges Robin's knee with his, ā€œMaybe it's meant for you though.ā€
No.
No?
Looking far too excited, Eddie smirks, ā€œChris is in her room isn't she?ā€
Wellā€¦ itā€¦ it wouldn't hurt to check would it? Maybe the boys are just teasing her, playing a game. But on the off chance they're notā€¦
ā€œYou gonna go get your girl, Rob?ā€
Jesus Christ, she's going to, isn't she?
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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl Ā· 2 years ago
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you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name.
i knew from the first note played iā€™d be breaking all my rules to see you. you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name. so dim that spotlight, tell me things like ā€œi canā€™t take my eyes off of you.ā€ iā€™m no one special, just another wide-eyed girl whoā€™s desperately in love with you. give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar.
Eddie has three major rules when it comes to working with celebrities: 1. donā€™t flirt with the talent; 2. donā€™t hang out with the talent; 3. donā€™t, under any circumstances, fuck the talent.
Heā€™s had enough rockstarsā€™ managers kick him out of hotel rooms after waking up to an empty bed with cold sheets to have learned his lesson ten times over by now.
He doesnā€™t even think of adding a fourth rule: donā€™t fall in love with the talent. Has never even come close to needing a rule like that. Not until he meets Steve Harrington.
~*~
ā€œEd, I got a new one for ya, heā€™ll be here at two,ā€ Eddieā€™s boss Murray says from the open doorway of Eddieā€™s office.
ā€œHuh?ā€ Eddie eloquently responds, mouth full of the banana heā€™d found in the office kitchen for lunch. ā€œWhat?ā€
Murray rolls his eyes. He gets endlessly annoyed when it turns out no one can read his mind.
ā€œNew singer-songwriter coming in at two, asked for you specifically. Working on his second album, so look alive.ā€ Murray tosses a demo in Eddieā€™s direction before departing the office and moving down the hallway towards his own. Eddie barely catches it just before the plastic corner gets him right in the eye.
This is the problem with Murray. He gives no details and leaves absolutely no room for follow-up questions. The other problem with Murray is that he waits until the last minute to spring shit on Eddie that he knows Eddieā€™s not going to like.
Eddie flips the plastic CD case around in his hand so he can read the words written in Sharpie on the front. ā€˜S. H. - 2ā€™ is all it says, giving him absolutely no information. Itā€™s already ten to two, so Eddie doesnā€™t even have time to listen to a single song if he wants to make it up the two floors to the conference room where he usually meets with the talent for the first time. Eddie scowls in annoyance; he hates being unprepared and he just knows Murray is conspiring against him somehow.
Eddie pushes up from his desk and leaves his office, heading for the elevator. He pressed the button for the 42nd floor. He likes to play this game where he tries to hold his breath for the duration of the elevator ride. Two floors is easy. The ride up to the 40th floor is a lot harder.
By the time Eddie makes it to the conference room, his appointmentā€™s already in there. As he walks through the glass doors, he realizes that when Murray said ā€œnew,ā€ he didnā€™t actually mean new. He meant, like, new to them.
Because sitting in the conference room at the head of the table is former boy band heartthrob Steve Harrington.
~*~
Eddie had never had Steveā€™s poster on his wall in high school or anything embarrassing like that, thank god. But he had kept one of the pages heā€™d ripped out of the libraryā€™s copy of Tiger Beat folded under his mattress for early morning daydreaming. And Eddie had certainly never listened to his music when heā€™d been in Teeny Boppers United or whatever the hell his band of cookie cutter boy-next-door types was called (he definitely knew).
Now, here Harrington is, sitting across the table from him, hair full of blond highlights and cherry lipgloss (Eddie thinks, imagines, hopes) on his lips.
ā€œUm, hi. Iā€™m, uh, Eddie. Munson. Eddie Munson,ā€ Eddie holds out his hand for Steve to shake and Steve does. Eddie tells himself heā€™s imagining the way Steveā€™s eyes linger on him and how he takes just a second too long to pull his hand away.
Steve smiles, blinding and perfectly white. ā€œYeah, man, I know. My friend Robin has worked with you before? She had real great things to say,ā€ Steve tells him and he sounds more sincere than a former-pop star asshole has any right to be.
ā€œBuckley?ā€ Eddie asks surprised, leaning back in his chair.
ā€œYeah, sheā€™s been a huge help with my solo stuff. She co-wrote a few of the songs on my first album.ā€ Steve drums his fingertips on the thick wood of the table.
ā€œHuh.ā€ The sound leaves Eddie against his will, as heā€™s trying to mask his surprise. Robin Buckley was talented and she had a sound that Eddie would never guess Steve Harrington would be into. She was indie, for sure, almost folk, bordering on a breathy country sound that Eddie thinks sheā€™d deny if she heard him describe her like that. ā€œIā€™m not entirely sure Iā€™m what youā€™re looking for, to be honest with you.ā€ He doesnā€™t know why he says it. He has no idea what Harringtonā€™s sound is now that heā€™s broken free of the teenage bubblegum scene. But heā€™s always had a self-sabotaging streak a mile wide and he feels both relieved and disappointed to potentially have this out.
Steve frowns slightly, the crease between his eyes deepening. ā€œDid you listen to the demo? I actually have this one song and Iā€™m struggling with the bridge and, you know, not to, like, geek out or fan girl or whatever, but Iā€™m, like, so into your sound and your lyrics and just the way you can construct a metaphor that seems so obvious when you hear it but is still so surprising in the context of the song itā€™s in and I think it would really complement what Iā€™ve already started andā€¦ā€ Steveā€™s been gesturing wildly with his hands and must realize heā€™s rambling, because he trails off, blushing. ā€œI mean. Did you listen?ā€ He asks again.
ā€œHonestly, Murray only just told me about this meeting about ten minutes before it started,ā€ Eddie shrugs, but he feels bad about the way Steveā€™s shoulders fall.
ā€œAh, okay,ā€ Steve pushes back from the table. ā€œYeah, okay. No worries.ā€
And Eddie feels, like, not great about this. He doesnā€™t like the disappointment he can see etched across Steveā€™s handsome features. So he reaches a hand across the vast wooden table, gesturing for Steve to stop.
ā€œWait,ā€ he says, hand raised between them. ā€œListen, Iā€™mā€¦ skeptical, to say the least. But. Iā€™ll listen to your demo tonight, okay? And Iā€™ll let you know what I think tomorrow. Is thatā€¦ does that work?ā€
Steve nods quickly. ā€œYeah, dude. Yeah, thatā€™s awesome. Thank you. Um. Do youā€¦ did Murray give you my number?ā€
ā€œHere,ā€ Eddie slides his notebook and pen across the table.
Steve picks up the pen, scrawling across the entire notebook page, before sliding it back toward Eddie. ā€œMy, uh, personal number.ā€ Steve runs as hand through his highlighted hair. ā€œIā€™m really looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Thanks, Eddie.ā€ He reaches out again to shake Eddieā€™s hand and this time, Eddie knows he doesnā€™t imagine the way Steveā€™s fingers linger on his palm.
Eddie clears his throat. ā€œTalk soon,ā€ he says, smiling, before Steve is turning and leaving the room.
~*~
Eddie had gone to LA with stars in his eyes and big dreams circling his head. Heā€™d had hopes of making it big, of thousands of people screaming his name. It had sounded so good back then, when he'd been trailer trash in the smallest, most close-minded town in the American Midwest. And it had kind of happened. Heā€™d recorded an entire album, had even had a national tour. But heā€™d realized fairly quickly that it wasnā€™t what heā€™d really wanted. Performing was fun, but what he really cared about was the song-writing. The way a perfectly constructed verse could speak to someone, on a deep, intimate, important level. Thatā€™s why he cared about music, thatā€™s why it had always been so important to him. It wasn't the performing or the flashing bulbs of cameras or the after parties filled with people who wanted to get close to fame. It was the songs. It was the words and the meanings behind them. It was what it all meant, down to the end of it all.
So Eddie had changed course. Heā€™d begun song-writing instead, freelancing at first, selling a song here and a collab there. Until heā€™d been approached by Murray Bauman, whoā€™d heard what heā€™d done on a Taylor Swift track and was impressed. Murray had offered him a job in New York, writing and producing, an office and a salary for the first time in his life. And Eddie loved what he got to do now, loved the tracks he produced for other people to sing. Heā€™d thought it would feel strange, like he was missing out on something, but it didnā€™t. It just felt good.
That had been five years ago and now here he is, sliding Steve Harringtonā€™s demo into the CD player in his living room. He presses play and crosses the room to grab a beer from his kitchen. Just as he's crossing the threshold between rooms, he hears the first three notes of the song and it stops him in his tracks. He tilts his head back toward the stereo.
Because the song isn't the sound of a boy band lead gone solo, belting out pop lyrics that would guarantee major radio play. This song is soft and melancholy, the poetic lyrics of a chorus crafted with vulnerability, a complicated bridge that ties it all together. The song ends and shifts, the guitar twang taking on a pop rock tempo, more upbeat than the last song. Steve's voice comes out, deep and honey-sweet, different than his boy band days. The lyrics are still sadder than Eddie would have thought and Eddie's impressed by the words juxtaposed with the upbeat instrumentals and the tone of Steve's vocals.
Eddie listens to all four songs standing there in the doorway between his living room and kitchen. Can't bear to tear himself away. And when the fourth and final song is over, Eddie crosses the room to click 'play' all over again.
~*~
Eddie waits to call Steve. He wants to call him immediately after his third listen, but he figures that it would be a bad idea to interrupt a clientā€™s dinner or date or whatever former pop stars do on Thursday nights.
He spends all day at the office the next day listening to Steveā€™s first album on repeat. He thinks he can tell where Robin had helped with the lyrics, can see the ways the two of them have come together, and he can hear how their voices complement each other on the track sheā€™s featured on. He listens to it on repeat for hours, before swapping it out for the new demo all over again. He thinks he can trace the way Steveā€™s voice has evolved since the first album, can see the places where his song-writing has matured. He spends the weekend deconstructing each song, finding the spots of vulnerability and the developed self-confidence that allows that vulnerability to take center stage. He feels a little guilty for not calling Steve, but he canā€™t imagine Steveā€™s sitting by the phone or anything anyway.
But the end of the weekend, Eddie knows he canā€™t say no to Steve Harrington. He knows that he has to be a part of this album, no matter what. That this project is going to be something magical, something unimaginable.
First thing Monday morning, Eddie calls Steve and makes a deal.
~*~
ā€œFuck, you have no idea how happy I am to hear from you,ā€ Eddie hears Steve breathe down the phone line. ā€œIā€™m such a huge fan and hearing what you did with Robinā€¦ I was worried you were gonna say no, yā€™know? When I didnā€™t hear from you?ā€
Eddie smiles to himself, small and involuntary. Heā€™d never thought heā€™d hear Steve Harrington sounding so earnest.
ā€œWell, to tell you the truth, I was just about ready to say no.ā€ Eddie runs a hand through his hair and then shifts his phone from one ear to the other. ā€œBut I gave your demo a listen and I revisited your first album and I gotta tell you, I think thereā€™s something really special there. Iā€™m excited to see what we come up with.ā€ Heā€™s downplaying this, he knows it, but he doesnā€™t want to seem too eager. He doesnā€™t want Steve to know that heā€™ll probably die if he doesnā€™t get to work on this album. Thatā€™s probably a little too over dramatic, even for Eddie.
He hears Steve suck in a breath, canā€™t tell if thatā€™s good or bad. ā€œDude, thank you. Iā€™m so excited. This means a lot to me. Thanks, man.ā€
ā€œAlright, well, Iā€™m gonna have my assistant call you in a few days to set up some meetings and get everything worked out, timeline-wise. Iā€™ll be in touch soon.ā€ Eddie has to get off the phone now, before he says something dumb as fuck.
ā€œAwesome. Thanks again, Eddie,ā€ Steve replies, before thereā€™s nothing but a dial tone.
~*~
Eddie has Chrissy set up all the meetings, scheduling studio time and booking out the conference room.
For months, Eddieā€™s life revolves around Steve Harrington. All he can think about are what chord progressions will have Steveā€™s voice sounding its best, all heavy and sweet, or what rhyme scheme the chorus should have to enhance its emotional tenor in the way Steve wants.
They record together, Steve in the booth and Eddie at the console. Sometimes Robin joins them, happy to take on second guitar and suggest a new phrasing for a line thatā€™s giving them trouble.
Steve enlists the same band heā€™d used on his first album and Eddieā€™s kind of impressed by how well they all seem to get along. How committed they are to helping Steve figure out the vision for this album.
Towards the end of recordingā€”long months spent trying new things, taking out second guitar here, adding a keyboard track in thereā€”Steve convinces Eddie to play lead guitar on one of the tracks they wrote together. Itā€™s one of the unfinished ones from the demo Eddie had been so enchanted by, the one that Steve had said was giving him trouble on the bridge. Theyā€™d spent long nights in Eddieā€™s office ordering late-night pizzas and trying to figure out how to make the song work. Eddie was so frustrated he was about to suggest they just scrap the whole thing until Steve started drumming on one of the discarded pizza boxes, humming along with a switched-up melody, a reversal of what they already had, a dramatic shift from chorus to bridge and back again. Eddie couldnā€™t do anything but stare and then the words were coming, Steve finishing his sentences when Eddie stumbled searching for the right word. By morning, the song was finished.
Eddie agrees to play, if only because he loves the song so much, so proud of the work theyā€™d put into it. It has nothing to do with the way Steveā€™s sweet smile spreads over his face or the faint pinkness Eddie can see rising in his cheeks. In the end, Eddieā€™s even convinced to lend his vocals to the song. He doesnā€™t let himself think about how good they sound together, Steveā€™s deep voice belting out the lyrics with Eddieā€™s softer cadence just underneath.
~*~
Steve goes out on tour almost immediately after they finish recording. The record label says thereā€™s so much buzz around the album, so much anticipation, that they should strike while the iron is hot.
ā€œDonā€™t forget about me out there on the road,ā€ Eddie jokes, voice light and airy. He and Steve are at his favorite coffee shop, just down the street from his offices.
ā€œCould never,ā€ Steve tells him, smiling, tone just on the wrong side of serious. He takes a sip of his coffee.
Theyā€™ve been dancing around each other for months, probably since theyā€™d started recording if Eddieā€™s really honest with himself. But Eddie has rules and heā€™s been burned before. So when theyā€™ve finished their coffee, they part ways. Eddie wishes Steve luck on his tour and Steve says heā€™ll be in touch.
Eddieā€™s life goes back to normal.
~*~
They text sporadically. Eddie doesnā€™t mind. He remembers how chaotic and stressful tour had been when heā€™d done it and he hadnā€™t been nearly as huge as Steve is now. Eddie knows itā€™s an endless parade of meet-and-greets and sound checks and dress rehearsals, one day blending into another. Heā€™s surprised Steve even reaches out to him at all.
Steve is set to perform the last show of his tour at Madison Square Garden. Eddie thinks about showing up, grabbing the free tickets he gets as part of the job and surprising Steve. He thinks about it a lot actually, all five months Steveā€™s gone, fantasizes about how Steve might greet him, how heā€™d pull him into the green room backstage andā€¦
A week before the show, Steve calls him.
ā€œHey, man!ā€ Steve sounds winded and breathy. ā€œHowā€™s it going?ā€
ā€œOh, yā€™know, same old same old.ā€ Eddie tries to sound as casual as possible, but he canā€™t control the grin that spreads across his lips.
Steve laughs. ā€œYeah, I bet. Hey, listen, I only have a minute, but I was wondering if youā€™d be open to, uh. Coming to my show at the Garden?ā€ Eddie thinks he might be imagining the nervous lilt to Steveā€™s voice, the unsure way he poses the question.
ā€œYeah, man, of course. Iā€™d love to be there.ā€
ā€œGreat! Iā€™ll text you the details.ā€ Eddie doesnā€™t even have time to say goodbye before Steve has hung up on him.
~*~
The night of the concert, Eddie shows up backstage, feeling just a little out of place. Heā€™d bypassed the front of house, but he hadnā€™t missed the line of young women and girls snaking out of the venue doors and onto the streets of Manhattan. He had known Steve was big, but he hadnā€™t imagined it would be like this.
A woman with short blonde hair leads Eddie into the green room. Steveā€™s getting his makeup done, but when he sees Eddie in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes light up and he smiles, wide and goofy. He pushes up from his chair and crosses the room, moving to pull Eddie into a hug before Eddie can even say anything, arms looped around Eddieā€™s neck. Steve is warm against him, his muscles firm and softā€”a strange juxtapositionā€”as Eddie wraps his own arms around Steveā€™s waist.
ā€œSo happy youā€™re here,ā€ Steve whispers against his ear, breath hot. Eddie canā€™t even react before Steveā€™s pulling away, crossing back over to his chair and dropping himself into it. Steve looks at Eddie in the reflection, their eyes meeting. ā€œI have a favor to ask.ā€ Steve suddenly sounds hesitant, fingers fidgeting in his lap.
ā€œOh, no,ā€ Eddie jokes, winking at Steve in the mirror. ā€œWhat is it this time?ā€
Steve blushes. ā€œI know you donā€™t really perform anymore, but I was hoping youā€™d help me out with our song? Itā€™s the last song of the show.ā€
The words our song echo in Eddieā€™s ears and he canā€™t help his smile. Sure, he doesnā€™t really perform anymore, but, he realizes in this moment, heā€™d do pretty much anything for Steve. The thought should be terrifying, but somehow it isnā€™t.
ā€œDude, thatā€™s awesome.ā€ Eddie watches Steve practically sag in relief. ā€œIā€™d love to.ā€
Before long, Steve is being rushed around, manhandled on his way to the stage, and Eddie is left to follow behind so he can watch from the wings.
Eddie had thought heā€™d known Steve. Theyā€™d written and recorded together for months, felt every emotion possible in the time it had taken them to complete the album. But watching Steve perform is something else entirely. Steve glows under the harsh stage lights, smiling and charismatic as he jokes with the girls in the front row vying for his attention. Itā€™s magical to watch Steve perform the songs theyā€™d made together, to sing words from Eddieā€™s own brain. Eddie is transfixed by the way Steveā€™s lips wrap around each note, like each word that comes out of his mouth is the most important word thatā€™s ever been spoken. Steve is otherworldly on stage.
ā€œFor the last song, I have a surprise,ā€ Steve stops in front of the mic stand as someone rushes to bring him his favorite guitar. He pulls the strap over his head. Someone on the side of the stage nudges Eddie, holding out a guitar that Eddieā€™s never seen before. If heā€™d known about this, he would have brought his own beloved sweetheart, but heā€™ll have to make do with what he has. No backing out now. ā€œYouā€™ve probably heard of Eddie Munson.ā€ Steve smiles as the crowd cheers. ā€œYeah, heā€™s a huge deal. Heā€™s worked with everyone from Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers to Bruce Springsteen and Metallica.ā€ The crowd cheers again. ā€œI worked really closely with him on this album,ā€ Steve smiles. ā€œAnd he took something raw and messy and made it so fucking great.ā€ The crowd screams. ā€œI always close the show with my favorite song off the album. Itā€™s the one that took us the longest to write. We were so frustrated, I thought Eddie was gonna tell me to just forget it. We spent so many all-nighters stuffing our faces with pizza and cursing ourselves for ever even thinking we should write this stupid fucking song.ā€ Steve laughs with the crowd. ā€œBut then, one night it all clicked. It all came together. It was like magic, sitting there with Eddie on some ugly couch in his office, just about ready to give up. We made magic together.ā€ Steve looks out at the crowd. ā€œSo. Eddieā€™s here to help me share this song with you.ā€ The crowd goes wild as someone pushes Eddie out onto the stage, but Eddieā€™s eyes are fixed on Steve, whoā€™s smiling at him from under the lights, eyes crinkling in the corners.
Playing the song is easier than Eddie had thought it would be. The notes come to him like muscle memory, like he could play this song in his sleep. He canā€™t take his attention away from Steve where he sings into the microphone. Itā€™s all too much for his heart to handle. He feels like he might die here, right on the spot.
Just as suddenly as it had started, itā€™s all over. The crowd is deafening and Eddieā€™s got a smile on his face so wide his cheeks ache. Steve waves to the crowd before taking Eddieā€™s hand and leading him off stage.
ā€œFuck,ā€ Steve breathes out, pulling Eddie along down the backstage hallways back towards the green room. ā€œThat was un-fucking-real.ā€ Steveā€™s smiling, cheeks red.
Eddie canā€™t say anything at all. All he can do is follow helplessly behind Steve, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His heartbeat so loud heā€™s sure Steve can hear it.
Theyā€™re back in the green room before Eddie can even blink. Suddenly, his back is pressed up against the closed door, Steve practically plastered to his front. He can barely breathe as Steveā€™s lips crash into his.
ā€œIs this okay?ā€ Steve asks, pulling back slightly. His breath is hot against Eddieā€™s lips. ā€œBeen thinking about you for months.ā€ His voice is soft, barely there.
ā€œFuck yeah,ā€ Eddie groans, running a hand through Steveā€™s hair, trying to pull him back in. ā€œItā€™s so okay, Stevie.ā€
Steve lets out a groan of his own and then heā€™s kissing Eddie again, lips parting and tongue curling against Eddieā€™s.
Eddieā€™s not sure how long they stand there pressed up against the wall, hands tangled in hair, kissing each other breathless. All too soon a knock comes from the other side of the door and they jump apart.
ā€œSteve?ā€ A muffled voice calls out from the hallway. ā€œYou have a meet-and-greet in five.ā€
Steve looks at Eddie, laughing a little. ā€œFuck, sorry, I forgot,ā€ he whispers, before raising his voice to respond to whoeverā€™s outside, ā€œOkay, just a minute!ā€ He kisses Eddie one last time, soft and so sweet. ā€œCome with me?ā€ He asks.
Eddie nods and follows after Steve.
~*~
Eddie watches from the sidelines as Steve takes picture after picture. Itā€™s kind of uncanny, the way Steveā€™s smile seems genuine in every photo he takes, the interest he seems to take in every person who comes to meet him.
The line has dwindled down when the next group of fans catch sight of Eddie in the shadows. ā€œOh my god!ā€ One of the girls squeals, before turning toward Steve. ā€œCan we get a picture with you and Eddie?ā€
Steve laughs, already nodding, before turning towards Eddie. ā€œYou mind?ā€ He asks, holding his hand out for Eddie. Eddie slides his hand into Steveā€™s and has his picture taken.
~*~
After, Steve invites Eddie back to his fancy hotel room, but Eddie counters by inviting Steve to his apartment. Steveā€™s face brightens, clearly excited to see where Eddie lives. Eddie tries to mentally envision how heā€™d left his apartment, thinks itā€™s probably safe for world-famous superstars to visit.
They take Steveā€™s car, his driver dutifully ignoring whateverā€™s going on in the back seat, and by the time they make it up the six floors to Eddieā€™s door, they canā€™t keep their hands off each other. They crash through the front door, attached at the lips. They stumble down the hallway to Eddieā€™s bedroom and Eddie all but tackles Steve down into the sheets.
The next morning, Steve insists on making a homemade breakfast. Eddie rarely cooks, but by some miracle, heā€™s got eggs and bacon in his fridge. Eddie knows heā€™s got a dopey look on his face as he sits at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, watching Steve move around his space.
Later, when theyā€™re curled up together on the couch and Steve is dozing against his chest, Eddie scrolls through his Instagram feed. Heā€™s tagged in a ton of photos from the night before, up on stage with Steve, eyes fixed on each other as they play their guitars, crisscrossing beams of light all around them. He scrolls for a few more moments, before he sees the picture theyā€™d taken together at the meet-and-greet, with the three girls whoā€™d asked for a picture with Steve and Eddie. Steveā€™s blushing, his hand still holding Eddieā€™s, a wide smile on his face. Eddieā€™s just as flushed, eyes glassy, but heā€™s not even looking at the camera, face turned toward Steve instead. He looks lovestruck. It would be embarrassing, but Steve shifts in his arms, letting out a tiny little sound from the back of his throat.
Eddie screenshots the photo and saves it to his camera roll.
~*~
@thecaptainsgingersnap gave me ā€œdealer's choice lyrics from Superstarā€ :)
This turned out waaaaayyyyyyy longer than I originally planned, so I probably shouldā€™ve split it into two posts, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!!
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steddielations Ā· 1 year ago
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pre s4, Steve is Eddieā€™s queer awakening
A sudden burst of radio static buzzes from somewhere. While it startles the shit out of Eddie, Steve just yawns and fishes out a walkie talkie from the inside pocket of his jacket lining.
A kidā€™s voice cuts through when Steve raises the antenna, followed by a jumble of frantic code words.
Steve tonelessly replies, ā€œYeah, yeah. Itā€™s probably nothing, dude, just like the last 5 times you had a hunch ā€¦ Okay Iā€™ll come check it out ā€¦ No, donā€™t touch it ā€¦ Fine, say goodbye to your fingers first in case it really is radioactive goo ā€¦ Yeah I always have the bat.ā€ Which may as well have been code language for how much it baffles Eddie.
ā€œWhat do you need a radio for?ā€
Steve shrugs, shoving it back inside his jacket. ā€œUh, you know, babysitting business.ā€
Right, Jesus, Eddie still canā€™t process the whole babysitter thing. But Steveā€™s being purposely cryptic for some reason and Eddie knows he should back off but his curiosity is getting the better of him.
ā€œWhoā€™s Henderson?ā€
Steve snorts, ā€œA pain in my ass and soon to be yours. Enjoy it while you can.ā€
Okay, less cryptic, so itā€™s one of the nerdy kids he mentioned, the future Hellfire prospects. ā€œWhatā€™s Code Yellow?ā€ Or radioactive goo?! And why does he always have ā€˜Theā€™ bat?!
ā€œProbably nothing, you know, kidā€™s imagination,ā€ Steve hums, getting to his feet, ā€œBut Iā€™m gonna check it out, donā€™t worry your pretty head.ā€
Pre-pre-preā€¦ Pretty?
Itā€™s just a saying. Itā€™s just a saying. Itā€™s just a saying.
Read on Ao3
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thefreakandthehair Ā· 9 months ago
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we feel a little warmer now.
rating: teen & up | wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-typical injuries, pre-relationship, getting together, fluff, light hurt/comfort | prompt: love is a fire that never goes out @steddielovemonth & a happy birthday gift for @henderdads! title from the woods, by hollow coves.
February in Indiana is still the dead of winterā€” cornfields are barren, trees sway in the wind without their leaves, and the sky seems to have a sheer layer of grey even on the cloudless days.
Eddieā€™s always loved winter. The shorter days followed by longer nights, snowy Sundays, watching the smoke from a joint or cigarette dance in the freezing air, and excuses to do donuts in the local abandoned grocery store parking lot. Heā€™s always loved winter, or at least he did until his world shattered at his feet, leaving him with injuries that take ages to heal and scars that leave him perpetually cold.
Itā€™s been difficult to explain, even to the people whoā€™d lived it with him. He canā€™t fully enjoy winter anymore because the cold seeps into his bones, maybe through the scars, maybe just because of the nerve damage. Heā€™ll never know for sure because Hawkins General doesnā€™t exactly have a Demobat Specialist on staff so he just keeps it to himself.
Well, mostly. Steve knows.
Hiding anything from Steve has proven impossible. His constant chill, his frustration with the new but still-improving limp, the grief, the guilt, the confusing simultaneous euphoria of survival. The only secret heā€™s managed to keep is the big fat crush heā€™s harbored, probably since Steve helped find him in the woods.
Maybe earlier. Maybe since high school. He tries not to think about it too much.
The point is, Steve knows and even if Eddie hasnā€™t said that it breaks his heart to lose the quiet winter nights smoking on the porch or the hood of his van, Steve figures that out, too.
He must, because Eddie nearly jumps out of his freezing skin when knuckles rap on the front door of his and Wayneā€™s new trailer. Thereā€™s a system these days: check the peep hole, crack the door with the chain still attached to confirm, and only then does Eddie open the door completely. An unfortunate system, but heā€™s far from the town hero that Steveā€™s been hailed as, albeit against his will.
Speaking of, through the peep hole, he sees Steve standing on his porch wrapped in what looks like a thick hoodie and winter coat.
ā€œWho goes there?ā€ Eddie asks, cracking the door and peering out with one eye.
ā€œItā€™s me, you ass. Let me in, I have a surprise.ā€
The door chain unhooks with a metallic click and Steve enters the trailer like he belongs there.
Because he does, Eddie thinks.
ā€œA surprise? For me? Oh, do tell.ā€
Steve stands in the living room, a live wire if Eddieā€™s ever seen one. His hair is a little messy, as though heā€™s been raking his fingers through it. His nose is pink, complemented by his frosty cheeks, and his eyes are wide and wild.
ā€œIf itā€™s overstepping or whatever, we can pretend I never mentioned it but I know how much you miss winter nights. And I uh, I built a fire pit at my house?ā€ His voice pitches up, as though itā€™s a question.
ā€œYou built a fire pit? Today?ā€
Steve nods. ā€œYeah. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be honestly, time consuming but, yeah. I built a fire pit. And I was thinking that maybe with the fire and some blankets and a good jacketā€” a real winter coat, not just your leather jacketā€” you might be able to get some of that back.ā€
Eddie tries his best not to think about Steve lugging brick pavers and forcing them into place, thinking about Eddie and his stupid broken internal thermostat. Wanting to give him back something the Upside Down took. Worrying Eddie would somehow see this as overstepping.
Itā€™s a quick Yes and even quicker drive to Loch Nora, a drive that Eddieā€™s always found hilarious. How can two neighborhoods exist so close together but feel like different worlds?
The whole way there, Eddie keeps Steve talking. If Steveā€™s talking, thereā€™s less room for Eddie to spill yet another truth inadvertently, the only one left to spill. Instead, he asks questions about work, and Robin, and if heā€™s heard from his parents.
(ā€œIt sucks,ā€ ā€œsheā€™s great,ā€ ā€œnopeā€. In that order.)
Pulling into the driveway, Eddie hops out of the car as best he can in one of Wayneā€™s old winter coats and follows Steve to the backyard. His jaw drops when he sees exactly what Steveā€™s done. More than a simple circle of bricks, thereā€™s a pit made of concrete blocks in the center of a larger circle filled with wood chips and grey pavers marking the perimeter. Wood logs are already split in a pile off to the side next to two lawn chairs and dear God, Eddie really hopes that Steve bought that already split. Heā€™s still not over him swinging on demobats with his bare hands, and the image of him with an axe is enough to put him down for good.
ā€œCā€™mon, Iā€™ll get it started,ā€ Steve nudges their shoulders together and walks through the pit to the stack of logs.
Steve gets a roaring fire going, the kind that cracks and burns both red and blue, and passes Eddie an extra blanket. Flames dance beneath the clear sky, speckled with stars that do little to distract him from how unbearably warm he is for the first time in months.
People donā€™t just do things like this for him, not without expectation or out of obligation. So much of Eddieā€™s life has felt like a spectrum spanning from pity to transactional with very few exceptions in between.
Then again, Steve feels like an exception to a lot of things.
ā€œWhy?ā€ Eddie eventually asks, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke like a kid seeing his breath.
Steve shrugs and tosses the butt of his own cigarette into the flames. ā€œYou lost enough down there, and I know how that feels. If thereā€™s something easy enough to fix, I want to. You deserve that.ā€
Eddie turns and sees Steve smiling, just a soft upturn of his lips as he looks up at the sky. His face is flushed and Eddie wants to think itā€™s not from the flames.
ā€œYouā€™re really something, you know that?ā€ Eddie says, scooting his chair over close enough for the arms of their chairs to nearly touch.
Steve looks back from the sky to Eddie, long lashes and the scar on his neck on full display.
ā€œThat a good thing?ā€
Eddie nods. ā€œOh yeah, definitely. Maybe the best thing.ā€
They sit outside for hours, eventually sharing a blanket draped around their shoulders and a first kiss that lights him up from the inside.
Eddieā€™s warm long after the fire burns out.
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steddieunderdogfics Ā· 2 months ago
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Hey everyone! It is that time again where we need (hopefully several!) more Writerā€™s Spotlight Nominations!! If you have an author you admire or want to learn more about,Ā please nominate them here. We have enough for a few weeks, but it takes time for the authors to write their answers and compile the information needed for the spotlights!
Thank you all for your support!!
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travelingtwentysomething Ā· 2 months ago
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sombersynth Ā· 2 years ago
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STEDDIE FANFICTION REC MASTERPOST PT. 6
Red Eye by Alinafewwords, 65 k, teen ā€œCan I get a hot, medium dirty chai?ā€ ā€œHow dirty do you want it?ā€ ā€œExcuse me?ā€ Steve Harrington is a struggling college student. Eddie Munson is a hot barista. Somehow things will work out.
Black Out Days (Fairground Nights) by OonionChiver, 139.1 k, explicit ā€˜I think,ā€™ Steve says slowly, reaches for Eddieā€™s abandoned, untouched beers. ā€˜You donā€™t know me very well.ā€™ ā€˜I donā€™t know you at all, man. I donā€™t really want to.ā€™ Steveā€™s throat works. Itā€™s subtle, but Eddie sees it. He hides it with a swig of beer, but when he sets it down, his smile isnā€™t quite so bright. Twice as sharp, though. ā€˜The self-centred asshole who can only be decent to a single human being, I get it. It works for you.ā€™ Then he takes a thick, heavy breath. The alcohol is hitting him, Eddie can tell. ā€˜And I am being civil. Iā€™m here, arenā€™t I? You have any idea how hard it is for me to be here?ā€™ ā€˜In a bar?ā€™ Steve doesnā€™t answer.
Itā€™ll be Fine by Dusk Light (Iā€™m Telling You, Baby) by Anonymous, 14k, teen The van is running, Steve realizes, and Eddie wouldnā€™t start it if he was just coming out to smoke. It sobers him up almost immediately. ā€œYou leaving?ā€ Eddie gives him a smile, sad around the edges where it reaches his eyes, says, ā€œYeah,ā€ and Steve knows he doesnā€™t just mean for tonight.
This is Your Home. These Are Your People. by Oaeas, 21.4 k, teen ā€œYour heartā€™s racing,ā€ Steve noted, quietly. Eddie laughed. It was more of a shaky exhale, lashes fluttering as he struggled to keep his composure. ā€œStevie,ā€ he whispered, fingers cradling Steveā€™s side like he was precious. ā€œYeah, no fucking shit.ā€
Too Good to be True by Ayes, 45.3 k, explicit When Eddie sees Steve in a gay bar, he decides to seduce him and break his heart as revenge for what an asshole Steve was in high school. Steve, who was only at the bar to support Robin, is taken aback by the attention but finds himself under Eddieā€™s spell. And Eddie, to his growing unease, discovers that Steve Harrington is actually everything heā€™s ever wanted.
Sanctuary by SpicedSage, 47.5 k, explicit After Steve Harrington goes missing, Eddie Munson gets exposed to the secret dangers of Hawkins, Indiana in 1985 instead of 1986. Will a different first meeting lead to a change in his fate?
Dirtybadwronggood by 3MinsOver, 8.3k explicit Steve doesn't like Eddie Munson. He's a loud, obnoxious freak. But there's something about him he just can't shake. Maybe Eddie can fuck it out of him.
Everything is Doomed; Nothing Will be Spared by 4MinsOver, 10.3 k, explicit Post vecna-battle, eddie is surprised by a late-night visitor who's looking for comfort in all the wrong places.
Throw Me One by Adure, 41.9 k, explicit Steve and Eddie are friends with benefits with the important caveat - no kissing, ever, under any circumstances; modern AU
Every Ribbon That You Used to Tie Yourself to Me by Judasofsuburbia, 63.7 k, mature ā€œYou keep telling yourself that, Eds." ā€œEds?ā€ ā€œCute, isnā€™t it?ā€ Eddieā€™s breath stops and his chest tightens. Heā€™s never had a friend give him a nickname before. It is cute, which is not cool to say, so of course, Eddie spits out, ā€œNo.ā€ Steve smiles and leans forward right into Eddieā€™s ear. He whispers, ā€œYouā€™ll get used to it.ā€ or: it's summer 1981 and wayne munson has sent a fourteen-year-old eddie to camp in hopes that he can exist like a regular kid for once. eddie meets steve harrington on the bus and the two start an unlikely friendship. hawkins high doesn't know how to deal with that. a supercut into eddie's high school years and how steve continues to orbit him whether he wants him to or not.
Lovesick in Loch Nora by Redoaktree, 62.6 k, mature Even though Eddie's name has been cleared legally, he's still very much on trial in the court of public opinion. Dealing drugs isn't a lucrative occupation anymore, and getting a legitimate job in a town who still considers him a killer isn't much of an option, either. Eddie is beginning to think skipping town and starting over somewhere no one knows his name is the only chance he has left. Steve has another idea. AKA: Steve gets Eddie a job as an anonymous columnist at a local newspaper.
STEVE'S FIRST BRUISE by Cairparavels, 47.2 k, not rated eddieā€™s new roommate sure does get into a lot of fights. a spider-man!steve story. or 6 bruises of steveā€™s + 1 of eddieā€™s.
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becomingfoxes Ā· 10 months ago
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Happy Friday! šŸ’›
Here are some of my favorite 5+1 Things fics šŸ’–
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saquesha13 Ā· 2 months ago
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A quick Steddie fic rec, easily my most re-read number one favorite Steddie fanfiction ever written. Eddie and Steve are spot on in this one, two oblivious idiots with smut, fluff and more smut. I just re-read this one for the fifth time this year.
Excatly What It Looks Like by BilbosMom on Ao3.
Summary: Steve makes a face at Eddie. ā€œYou've imagined doing stuff with a guy?ā€
ā€œYeah, man,ā€ Eddie replies, spreading his hands wide. ā€œDoesn't everyone?ā€
ā€œYeah, that's true,ā€ Steve answers, nodding. ā€œI wonder why everybody acts like it's so gross, though.ā€
In the summer of 1986, Steve and Eddie have some perfectly normal fun between a couple of perfectly normal dudes.
Rated: Explicit
Chapters: Six, Completed.
Words: 31,517
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little-annie Ā· 1 year ago
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Watching You Fall in Love (is My Greatest Achievement)
Steddie Fic | Wayne POV | Little_Annie | Ao3
---
"You love him don't you?" Wayne whispers, breathy, quiet, his voice cracking around the edges of something that feels like raw emotion.
It's then that Eddie turns his gaze away from Steve to look at him, the light never fading from his eyes and the smile never wiping from his face.
Steve's sitting on the trailer floor, in the middle of the living room, Eddie's clothes hanging from his body as he flips through one of Eddie's many monster manuals. Wayne knows the boy would never admit it, but he's just as interested in D&D as the other kids. He's helping Eddie plan his next campaign for christ sake.
Next to Wayne, two cans of coke in hand and a love struck smile on his face, Eddie nods, his cheeks darkening as his smile ever so slightly fades. "Is that okay?" He asks, looking all the bit nervous as his eyes roam Wayne's face.
"More than okay Son."
Eddie's smile brightens once again and if Wayne notices the small amount of tears welling in his eyes, he says nothing about.
"You ever going to tell him?" Wayne continues, nodding in Steve's direction, the boy still oblivious to the conversation being whispered behind his back.
"I don't know if I can."
Wayne says nothing to Eddie's reply as he watches the boy return to the living room where he sits down next to his best friend. Steve smiling bright as the sun upon Eddie's return.
ā€”
Months go by and Wayne gets to watch as Steve falls too. It's there and so obvious to anyone but Eddie.
His eyes linger and his smile never fades. Soon Wayne sees as he sits a little closer and his cheeks grow a little darker.
There's moments when Wayne catches what he can only describe as a love struck expression across Steve's face. Eddie's talking, because when is he not, and Steve's there, eyes wide and locked onto Eddie's ever changing expression.Ā 
He looks fond. Fond in a way Wayne's never seen anyone look at his nephew.
There's moments when he sees Steve hesitant. Moments when he and Eddie are so close and Steve's hand twitches like it wants to reach out. Moments when Steve looks like he wants to lean in but bites his lip and turns away with rosy cheeks.
ā€”
It's nearly a year into their friendship when Steve's standing at Wayne's side and whispers, "I think I love him."
"Tell him," Wayne answers easily, leaving out the 'please' he so desperately wants to tack onto the end of that sentence.
Please, he thinks again as he watches Eddie turn to face them from across the yard, a smile so beautiful Wayne thinks it's the first time he's seen it on Eddie's face. The boy's elbow deep in his van as his cheeks grow a little pinker as he says with a smile, "Stevie come here for a sec."
Steve leaves, but not before whispering back to Wayne, "I think I will."
ā€”
No more than a week later Wayne comes home to find the boys on the couch, Steve sleeping and curled into Eddie's side, snoring with his nose pressed to Eddie's neck.Ā 
Wayne offers his boy a smile as he stirs from the sound of the door closing. He looks tired, arms tightening around Steve's waist as he smiles back and burrows closer, kissing the top of Steve's head before drifting back off.Ā 
ā€”
"He loves me," Eddie says one evening, weeks down the road, a rare occasion when Steve isn't over and Eddie's actually home.
Wayne smiles, his heart so warm and full as he says, "I know."
ā€”
Steve's been over for a few weeks now. Part of Wayne's convinced he's moved in, what with the new additions to their fridge and bathroom vanity. The idea doesn't upset him in the least.Ā 
He's gotten to witness their love grow during that time anyway.
He's gotten to witness the way Steve kisses a grumpy Eddie good morning until he finally smiles.
Or the way Eddie lights up when Steve's arms wrap around his waist and he whispers an "I love you Eds," that Wayne isn't sure if he's supposed to hear.
Or the way they giggle and kiss and love one another in such a beautiful and uninhibited way.
Granted too, sometimes that means Wayne's hears a bit too much. Eddie would be mortified to know there's been far too many occasions in which Wayne's had to leave the trailer to escape the gasping breaths that occasionally pour out from under his bedroom door.
Though this time, Wayne's inside as the boys are on the roof smoking and he thanks the lord above that all he can hear are the faintest of whispers.Ā 
There's only parts of the conversation that he catches, but his heart swells when he hears Eddie's voice so clearly say, "I'm gonna marry you someday Steve Harrington."
ā€”
Wayne cries the day Eddie shows him the ring.Ā 
And cries even harder when Steve shows him his.
Steve's hand is shaking where the single golden band lies on his ring finger, Eddie standing directly behind him, arm around his waist with a smile that matches Steve's in the way it resembles Sunshine.
They can't marry, not legally anyways. But that doesn't stop Jim Hopper from officiating a ceremony or Joyce Byers from walking Steve down the aisle.Ā 
The backyard to Hoppers cabin is filled with faces Wayne has grown familiar with over the years. Young and old, smiling and crying all the same.
Dustin and Robin both write speeches, both as rambling and as funny as they are beautifully heart wrenching.
There's not a dry eye in the house.
ā€”
The boys move into an apartment where they build a life together.
Wayne visits often for meals or a cup of coffee in the mornings, still delighting in the way his Eddie seems so wonderfully overcome with love and affection.Ā 
He'd thought he'd shed enough tears for his lifetime at the wedding, but one evening, sat at the table with Robin Buckley and his boys, Wayne finds out he's gonna be a grandpa.ļæ½ļæ½
Elaine Birdie Munson is her name.
Sunshine, they call her instead.
---
Ao3ā¤µļø
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urdreamgirls-dreamgirl Ā· 2 years ago
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i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.
kiss me once ā€˜cause you know i had a long night, kiss me twice ā€˜cause itā€™s gonna be all right, three times ā€˜cause iā€™ve waited my whole life
Steveā€™s phone buzzes in his pocket. Heā€™s technically not supposed to have it on the floor, but itā€™s 9:30 on a Wednesday night and the storeā€™s dead anyway.
Eddie šŸŽøšŸ‘Ž: dateā€™s a dud engage emergency protocol immediately šŸšØšŸšØšŸšØ
Steve rolls his eyes and clicks the little phone icon near Eddieā€™s name.
ā€œHello?ā€ Eddie manages to sound both confused and concerned.
ā€œHelp, help,ā€ Steve deadpans, leaning his elbows on the counter. ā€œIā€™m having an emergency that only you can help me with.ā€ Steveā€™s done this enough times in the three years theyā€™ve lived together to know that Eddie can think up his own lie to tell his date.
ā€œOh my god, Iā€™ll be right there, Steve.ā€
Steveā€™s not sure how Eddie manages to make it sound so convincing every time, but itā€™s enough that even Steve might start to believe it if he wasnā€™t the one calling.
Eddie hangs up without saying goodbye, probably to tell his date some exaggerated story about how Steveā€™s fallen in the shower or fell off a ladder. Somehow, all Eddieā€™s emergency scenarios involve Steve hurting himself in increasingly embarrassing ways.
By the time Steveā€™s got the store tidied and closed and walked the four blocks to their apartment, Robin and Eddie are already on the couch in the living room. Steve can hear them bickering over what to watch from the front hallway as he slips off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. He follows the sound of their voices to find them practically wrestling over the remote.
ā€œJesus, canā€™t leave you two alone for more than five minutes. Youā€™re worse than the kids,ā€ Steve says as he makes his way across the room and into the kitchen for a bag of chips. It wasnā€™t the healthiest dinner, but he was too exhausted to cook.
ā€œThereā€™s leftovers from the diner in the fridge,ā€ Eddie calls out to him, not even missing a beat as he pries the remote from Robinā€™s white-knuckled grip.
ā€œYou took leftovers on a first date?ā€ Robin asks him, appalled, as if itā€™s the most unheard of thing Eddieā€™s ever said.
Steveā€™s popping the styrofoam container into their tiny microwave as Eddie tells her, ā€œIt was a second date for your information.ā€ He puts on an episode of Ghost Adventures without asking anyoneā€™s input.
ā€œWow, someone made it past your rigorous first date interview? Shocker.ā€ Robin crosses her arms and huffs in annoyance, because she was also going to put on Ghost Adventures but itā€™s the principle of the thing. You just donā€™t take a womanā€™s remote from her, under any circumstance.
ā€œHey, itā€™s imperative for me to suss out a potential partnerā€™s commitment to the music gods,ā€ Eddie says.
ā€œā€˜Potential partnersā€™?ā€ Robin scoffs. ā€œI thought you said you were in your slut era?ā€
ā€œWell,ā€ Eddie seems to lose his footing here. ā€œI am. But I canā€™t be fucking anyone who listens to Tame Impala.ā€
ā€œSteve listens to Tame Impala.ā€
Steve has made it back into the living room in time to see the blush rise on Eddieā€™s cheeks.
ā€œGood thing Iā€™m not fucking Steve then, isnā€™t it?ā€
ā€œYeah, good thing.ā€ Even Steve can hear the eye roll in Robinā€™s voice.
Because the thing wasā€¦
Okay, so the thing isā€¦
The long and short of it is that theyā€™re not fucking.
But theyā€™re also, like. Not not fucking.
Itā€™s just that sometimes, after a horrible date or a stressful day or even just when theyā€™re feeling incredibly horny, the apartment can feel kind of lonely, even with two roommates. So. Theyā€¦ do stuff. Together. No penetration, but. Yeah. Enough for it to be called ā€˜fucking,ā€™ probably. At least Steve thinks so.
But they havenā€™t told Robin. Theyā€™re both pretty sure she suspects. Sheā€™s not a fucking idiot and Steve thinks someone living under the same roof as Steve and Eddie would have to be in order to be that oblivious. Steveā€™s pretty sure sheā€™s been trying to get one or the other of them to confess, but theyā€™ve held strong so far. Itā€™s not that they were hiding it, exactly. It was just that, whenever this thing inevitably came to an end or imploded on them both, they didnā€™t want to have to explain it to anyone. At least that was what Steve was thinking, because itā€™s not like they actually talk about it.
Neither of them say anything else, so Steve makes an attempt to change the subject.
ā€œSo what did you tell your date this time?ā€ He asks Eddie before shoveling a forkful of reheated pasta into his own mouth.
Eddie smirks. ā€œI told him you cut off the tip of your finger with your crafting scissors while you were scrapbooking and then passed out from the sight of the blood and hit your head on the corner of the coffee table.ā€
Steve pauses with his fork halfway between the takeout container and his mouth.
ā€œI thought these emergencies were supposed to be believable.ā€
ā€œIā€™ve literally walked in on you scrapbooking multiple times, Stevie,ā€ Eddie says it like heā€™s stating the obvious.
ā€œI could never cut through my fingers with my crafting scissors.ā€
ā€œOh, thatā€™s what you take issue with about that lame-ass scenario?ā€ Robin scoffs again.
ā€œThereā€™s nothing wrong with scrapbooking,ā€ Steve says defensively.
ā€œDidnā€™t say there was,ā€ Robin mutters, turning her attention back to the TV. ā€œCan you guys shut up now? Iā€™m trying to watch my stories.ā€
Steve rolls his eyes and shares a look with Eddie before doing as Robin says and shutting the fuck up. He drops down into the lone armchair to finish his leftover diner food, attention fixed on the television. He thinks he can feel it every time Eddieā€™s eyes dart over to look at him.
~*~
Later, after Eddieā€™s snuck into his bed around one a.m. and theyā€™re laying there next to each other in the afterglow, Steve asks, ā€œSo the date really sucked?ā€
Eddie sighs. ā€œI mean, he was nice and all, but there just wasnā€™t any, likeā€¦ chemistry or whatever. You know what I mean?ā€
ā€œYeah,ā€ Steve responds, his voice low. Steve hadnā€™t been on a date in months, hadnā€™t felt the usual impulse to flirt with strangers incessantly. Robin kept saying he was in a lull or a slump or something, but Steve does start to feel lonely sometimes, especially when Robin is out with her girlfriend and Eddie has a date and heā€™s left to his own devices in their shared apartment. Even though, more often than not lately, Eddieā€™s dates almost always end in ā€œemergency protocolā€ and the two of them wind up tangled in Steveā€™s sheets. Steve canā€™t help but think that itā€™s only a matter of time before all of this comes to an end, before Eddie finds someone whoā€™s perfect for him.
Someone who isnā€™t Steve.
~*~
Three days later, Steve and Eddie wake up to the blaring honk of Steveā€™s alarm, wrapped around each other. Steve canā€™t help but notice the way Eddie looks when heā€™s just woken up, soft and rumpled, hair a tangled mess on top of his head.
ā€œUgh, make it stop,ā€ Eddie groans, scrubbing a hand down his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Steve slams his hand down on his alarm clock and flops back onto his pillows, even though he really should be getting up for work. He wraps a hand around the back of Eddieā€™s neck before dropping a kiss to his forehead and pulling him back to lie against his chest.
ā€œDonā€™t wanna get up yet,ā€ Steve mutters, eyes falling shut again. The blankets are warm and soft and the weight of Eddie on his chest is enough to have him drifting back into sleep.
Eddie doesnā€™t let him though. Instead, he plants his palm on Steveā€™s chest and pushes himself upright, making Steve groan in dissatisfaction.
ā€œGotta get up, dude,ā€ Eddie tells him, yawning and climbing out from under the covers to pull on his discarded sleep pants. ā€œGot, like, seven engines to fix today. Something about spring, man, everyoneā€™s car starts to break down.ā€ Eddie pulls his t-shirt over his head before opening Steveā€™s door and sticking his head out, making sure the coast is clear.
Eddie leaves the door slightly open and crosses back to Steveā€™s bed, planting a kiss on Steveā€™s cheek, like he just canā€™t help himself.
ā€œWonā€™t get off until late and then I have a date, so keep your phone at the ready,ā€ Eddie smiles when he says it and Steve wants to trace his dimples with his tongue.
ā€œComing home first?ā€
ā€œNah, just gonna shower at the gym next door,ā€ Eddie stretches. ā€œSee ya later, Stevie.ā€ And then heā€™s out the door and slipping quickly into his own room down the hall.
Steve doesnā€™t like the way Eddieā€™s bedroom door sounds as it clicks shut.
~*~
Steve has the early shift at the store, so when he gets home in the late afternoon with two bags of groceries, heā€™s got the apartment to himself. Robinā€™s spending her weekend off with Vickie and Eddieā€™s still at work before heading off to his date.
Steve puts his groceries away, makes himself an early dinner, and then positions himself in front of the TV. He puts his phone face up on the coffee table, so heā€™ll see it when Eddie texts him to get out of his date.
He gets lost in the Real Housewives of Wherever for hours before he remembers heā€™s supposed to be keeping an eye on his phone. He taps the screen and sees there are no notifications. Thatā€™s weird. Itā€™s already well past nine; Eddie usually texts by now for a rescue.
Steve sits back on the couch, eyes on his phone where it sits on the coffee table in front of him. He watches it for a few long moments, willing it to ring.
It doesnā€™t.
~*~
Hours later, Steve wakes up to the front door slamming shut. His face feels plastered to the leather of their second-hand couch. He knows itā€™s Eddie coming through the door because heā€™s the only one of them that lets it slam when it closes.
Steve reaches for his phone, still on the coffee table where heā€™s left it. He taps the screen and sees that itā€™s already after two in the morning. Eddie comes into the living room and seems surprised to see him on the couch.
ā€œYouā€™re still up?ā€ He asks, eyebrows pulling together.
ā€œYou didnā€™t call,ā€ Steve tries to make it sound casual, but even he hears the accusation in his own voice.
ā€œUh yeah. No. He was, uh. Kinda cool, actually,ā€ Eddie smiles to himself and it looks so soft and sweet in the dim light of TV. Steve feels his chest go hollow seeing it. He swallows.
ā€œWell,ā€ Steve clears his throat. ā€œThatā€™s great.ā€
ā€œWanna hang out?ā€ Eddie asks. Steveā€™s not sure if he means hang out or hang out, but either way, Steve canā€™t bring himself to say yes.
ā€œNah.ā€ He yawns. ā€œEarly shift tomorrow.ā€ Itā€™s a lie, but who can blame him?
Steve gets up off the couch and crosses the room before Eddie can say anything.
ā€œOh, sure,ā€ Eddie mutters as Steve brushes past him on his way into the hallway. ā€œGoodnight, Stevie.ā€
Steve feels his throat constrict, like he might cry if Eddie says anything else. He clears his throat again. ā€œā€˜Night,ā€ he returns, before he shuts his bedroom door behind him.
~*~
Steve stews in it for a couple of days. Heā€™s annoyed and grumpy and even Robin starts avoiding him after he snaps at her one too many times for no reason. Heā€™s avoiding Eddie, but he suspects that Eddie is also avoiding him.
Which is absurd. Itā€™s not like Steve changed the rules. Heā€™s not the one who changed their routine. Who went on a date with someone else and enjoyed it.
That thought gives Steve pause because thatā€™s not what this is, is it? Heā€™s aware that heā€™s not very good at keeping his emotions out of his sex life. He knows he gets too attached too soon. But Eddie is his friend. Youā€™re supposed to have emotions for your friends. Youā€™re supposed to hate everyone they date. Youā€™re supposed to want to spend all your time with them. Right?
Fuck. Fuck. Steve is maybe out of his depth here.
By Tuesday night, he has no choice but to go to Robin.
ā€œI fucked up,ā€ he says without preamble, walking into her room without knocking and flopping face first onto her unmade bed. She just watches him from where she sits at her desk in front of her laptop. Eddie has a late night band practice after work, so theyā€™ve got the place to themselves.
ā€œYeah, how?ā€ She asks.
ā€œIā€¦ am not sure. But I feel bad.ā€ Steve is practically whining at this point.
ā€œCan I tell you what I think without you getting mad at me?ā€ Robinā€™s tone is cautious in a way that it hardly ever is with Steve.
ā€œWhen do I ever get mad?ā€ Steve scowls at her, the side of his face smooshed into her pillow so he can see her.
ā€œGee, I wonder.ā€ Robin rolls her eyes. ā€œYouā€™ve been testy since Saturday, babe.ā€
Steve huffs but itā€™s not like he can deny it, exactly.
ā€œWhatever, Iā€™m in a bad mood,ā€ he grumbles, picking at a thread on her comforter.
ā€œYeah, and why do you think that is?ā€ Robinā€™s question sounds decidedly pointed.
ā€œI dunno. Full moon or something. Somethingā€™s in retrograde, probably.ā€
Robin sighs. ā€œLook, Iā€™m going to say something to you and I want you to just listen and synthesize the information, okay? Just shut up.ā€ Steve grunts and Robin clearly takes that for assent. ā€œI think that youā€™re in love with Eddie.ā€
She says it so matter-of-factly that Steve sits straight up on her bed so he can look at her fully. His eyes dart to her open door. ā€œWhat?ā€ He practically spits out.
Robin rolls her eyes again. ā€œYeah, whatever. I know Iā€™m not supposed to know about theā€¦ whatever you want to call it. But you guys arenā€™t exactly subtle. Or quiet.ā€ Steveā€™s jaw falls open. ā€œI know youā€™ve been fooling around for months. And you havenā€™t had to figure out your feelings for each other because you havenā€™t been dating at all and every date Eddieā€™s been on heā€™s sabotaged himself. And now heā€™s had a great date and youā€™re feeling threatened, obviously. Youā€™re jealous, Steve.ā€
Steve just looks at her for a moment, before saying, ā€œI actually hate you so much.ā€ He looks back over toward her open door. ā€œDid he say it was a great date?ā€
ā€œUgh, youā€™re pathetic.ā€ Robin balls up a piece of paper and throws it at him, before turning serious. ā€œJust tell him, Stevie. Iā€™m pretty sure heā€™s into you just as much as youā€™re into him. You should see the way he stares at your ass when he thinks no oneā€™s looking. Itā€™s truly disgusting.ā€
Steve throws the ball of paper back at Robin, hitting her squarely in her forehead.
~*~
Steve locks himself in his room for the rest of the night, obsessing over what Robin has told him. He tosses and turns all night thinking about it. Heā€™s vaguely aware of the door slamming as Eddie comes in from band practice around midnight and he thinks that maybe Eddie might linger just a little longer outside Steveā€™s door, but he doesnā€™t knock. Just pauses before he moves on to his own room.
Steve wakes up late the next morning. He has to rush through his morning routine and by the time he makes it to the kitchen for breakfast, both Robin and Eddie have left for the day. Luckily, Steve has a midday shift, so he has a bit of time before he has to leave for the store. He leans against the counter, spooning cereal into his mouth. As he places his dirty bowl and spoon in the sink to clean after work, his eyes get caught on the whiteboard they have hanging on the fridge.
Second date tonight, keep phone handy -E
Steve feels his heart start beating fast, almost erratically. His fingertips go numb. He licks his lips and leaves the kitchen, slipping on his shoes and jacket and leaving for work.
~*~
Steve comes home to an empty apartment. Robin has some study group and Eddie has his date. Steve canā€™t help but feel a little depressed as he walks through the door to nothing but quiet.
He makes himself dinner. He puts something on the television. He places his phone face-up on the coffee table, just in case.
It doesnā€™t light up with a notification until well after nine. Itā€™s a phone call. From Eddie.
Steve fumbles his phone as he lunges to pick it up.
ā€œHey,ā€ he says into his phoneā€™s speaker. ā€œThought you had a date.ā€
ā€œYeah,ā€ Steve can tell Eddieā€™s smiling, even though he canā€™t see him. ā€œWas wondering if you had some kind of emergency to tell me about?ā€
ā€œUm.ā€ Steve is confused. This isnā€™t the normal script. Heā€™s supposed to call Eddie. Not the other way around. ā€œI donā€™t. Know? I mean. Yeah. Iā€¦ need you?ā€
ā€œOn my way, Stevie.ā€ And then he hangs up.
~*~
Steveā€™s paused the TV and is sitting on the living room couch in silence by the time he hears the door slam shut. He looks up as Eddie walks into the room.
ā€œHey,ā€ Eddie greets him, voice low. ā€œHavenā€™t seen you in a while.ā€
ā€œYeah, beenā€¦ busy.ā€ Steve inwardly cringes at how he sounds, knows itā€™s a lame excuse, because Eddie knows him. He knows why he hasnā€™t seen Steve.
ā€œRight,ā€ Eddie smirks. ā€œSoā€¦ can we talk?ā€
ā€œSure, whatever.ā€ Steve tries to sound casual, thinks he misses it by about a mile.
Eddie sits in the armchair instead of next to Steve on the couch. Steve tries not to take it as an insult.
ā€œI was on a really good date tonight, Stevie,ā€ Eddie tells him, voice soft and slow, like heā€™s breaking bad news to Steve. Steveā€™s heart clenches in chest, hard and painful. He nods, eyes on everything but Eddie. ā€œHe was cool and funny and actually had good taste in music.ā€ Steveā€™s not exactly sure he really needs to hear this. ā€œButā€¦ā€
Steve feels a small flutter of hope in the pit of his stomach. ā€œBut?ā€ He prompts, still not looking at Eddie.
ā€œBut.ā€ Steve can tell from his tone that Eddieā€™s smiling again, that same smile heā€™d heard on the phone. ā€œI couldnā€™t stop thinking about you. About sitting here watching dumb reality shows with your arm around me. Waiting for your call even though I hadnā€™t texted you.ā€
Steveā€™s eyes snap to Eddieā€™s. He licks his lips. ā€œWhat.ā€ He doesnā€™t say it like a question.
ā€œI wanted to be with you, Stevie. Always wanna be with you.ā€ Eddie looks nervous now. He pulls at a rip in his jeans. ā€œDo youā€¦ what do you think about that?ā€
ā€œI, uh.ā€ Steveā€™s mouth is suddenly dry, voice just a little hoarse. ā€œI think itā€™sā€¦ good.ā€
ā€œGood?ā€ Eddie snorts. ā€œYou think itā€™s good? Gonna need a little more here, Steve.ā€ Eddie still looks a little nervous, but his smile is starting to form again.
ā€œYeah, like. Really good.ā€ Steve licks his lips again. ā€œI always wanna be with you, too,ā€ he adds softly.
ā€œYeah?ā€ Eddie asks, and he sounds vulnerable in a way that Steveā€™s never really heard before. Heā€™s fully smiling again, small and soft, like maybe he canā€™t believe his luck.
Steve smiles back at him. ā€œYeah.ā€
And then they donā€™t say anything at all. Eddie crosses the small space between them and tackles Steve back against the couch. Their lips meet, soft at first. Then Steve letā€™s out a moan, opens his mouth under Eddieā€™s and the kisses turn decidedly less soft and more horny.
~*~
The next morning, Steveā€™s phone dings on his bedside table. He reaches over to read the screen.
Queen RobbieāœØšŸ’•: love that u guys have figured ur shit out, but can we work out a system or something? i heard u [redacted] and then [redacted] and also [redacted]
Steve smiles before dropping his phone back on his bedside table and turning over in his bed. He pulls a sleeping Eddie into his arms and drops a tiny kiss to the back of Eddieā€™s neck. Eddie lets out a sleepy little moan. Steve could get used to waking up like this every morning.
ā€”ā€”ā€”
An anonymous benefactor gifted me with lyrics from ā€œPaper Ringsā€ and here is what Iā€™ve done with them.
Just two things: 1. I have never seen Ghost Adventures, but I imagine it would be one of the only shows both Robin and Eddie could agree on and 2. I have never listened to Tame Impala, I know nothing abt the music (beyond the fact that itā€™s just one guy??? see, I am hip and cool, gen z), so this is not intentional slander, I promise!!! Itā€™s just the first thing I thought of.
Oh ETA: I also know nothing abt cars or what mechanics do, I assume they sometimes fix engines.
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steddielations Ā· 1 year ago
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Trouble Looks Good On You
It happens like a fever dream.
The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, itā€™s obviously just an old jock habit thatā€™s stuck with him. It wasnā€™t meant to have Eddieā€™s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harringtonā€™s hand, orā€” Nope, because Eddieā€™s not even into that.
But then, it happens again.
Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddieā€™s new kinks.
Chapter 4 on Ao3
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