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morganbritton132 · 2 months ago

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There’s a replica of a military tank in the center of the park.

Around the tank is a fence and around the fence, there are multiple signs telling you not to climb on it. The purpose of the tank is to memorialize the soldiers of WWII but currently, Steve Harrington is standing on top of it.

The (only) great thing about a trainee is that Hopper can send Callahan over to handle the trespassing first grader.

He looks away to scan the park and when he looks back, Steve is trying to kick Callahan in the head. Hopper whistles, “Knock it off, Harrington. The sign says no trespassing. Get down.”

Steve explodes, “I. Don’t. Know. How. To. Read!!”

He emphasizes this outburst by ripping off one of his shoes and throwing it at Hopper. It bouncing off his chest and Hopper gives him a flat look, “Get down.”

Steve goes for his other shoe but Hopper is already pass Callahan, grabbing him by the leg and yanking him off the tank. He gets kicked in the gut for his trouble.

He keeps ahold of him, carrying Steve kicking and screaming over to the truck and sitting him on the hood. The whole time thinking, this is new.

Steve’s troublesome but mostly polite. Half the time, Hopper’s just got to tell him to stop doing stuff and he will. He’s never seen a tantrum before.

“You know it’s against the law to hit a cop. What you just did would be called assaulting a police officer,” Hopper say because Steve likes to show off what he knows about law. “Could spend some time in jail.”

“Good,” Steve sniffles. He weakly kicks out again, just barely missing Callahan. “I want to go to jail.”

“That’s good,” Hopper says flatly. “Because that’s where you’re going.”

He picks the kid up again and unceremoniously dumps him in the backseat. He gets in the front. Callahan gets in the passenger seat, asks, “Boss, you’re not really going to..”

Steve’s still crying when Hopper starts the car. He’s eerily quiet about it but Hopper can see the tears in the rearview and he can hear the sniffles. He doesn’t say anything but drive.

He doesn’t go to the precinct despite what he says. He drives out to Benny’s Burgers, parks the kid in a booth, and then plays the cop, “I have some questions.”

Steve has his head down, pillowed by his arms. His shoulders are shaking with tears but his voice is painfully steady when he sniffles, “Need’a lawyer.”

“Callahan is not pressing charges,” Hopper says. “I need to know what happened for my incident report. I gotta explain why you tried to kick his head off his shoulders.”

“Cause he’s a butthead and I hate him.”

Hopper hums, “And what made you angry enough to do that?”

Steve looks up at him.

His watery brown eyes meeting his, and then Steve cries, “Tommy doesn’t want to be my friend anymore!”

Hopper thinks, Jesus Christ.

#Steve: *remembering he’s only wearing one shoe and there’s a no shoes no shirt no service sign on the door*#Steve crying harder: I’m breaking the law again #Hopper: so you can read that sigh but not the one at the park?#Steve: *cries harder*#The obvious next step after you call your friend out for stealing your baseball cards and them declaring you’re no longer friends #is obviously going to jail #can’t argue with that logic #Callahan gets no breaks with kid Steve and remembers ever incident when dealing with older Steve #later when Steve actually comes down he tells Hopper that he’s his best friend now and then the next time he sees him tells him that #Tommy is his best friend again and Tommy says that he can’t be friends with an old person ‘cause Hopper is probably gonna die soon #and they make you wear suits and eat bad food at a funeral #There was a memorial in my town that was a decommissioned tank. I know that sounded painfully American #but it’s a real painfully American thing that was also removed bc people kept climbing on it #steve harrington #jim hopper #phil callahan

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gofu-kurself · 2 months ago

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steddie college au!

eddie works part time at a taco bell really close to campus and steve always just ends up walking there after a party or long nights in the library. he thinks the dude with the frizzy hair who works nights every weekend is hot so he just keeps going back. he always gets a baja blast and like 5 burritos cuz those fuckers are small. eventually, he musters up the courage to actually talk to the hot guy who’s nametag reads ‘eddie.’ he’s charming and silly and makes fun of steve’s lack of hot sauce usage.

“can’t belive you don’t add hot sauce to those things man, that’s like, the best part.”

“ugh i know, i mean, i like spice, it just gives me heartburn, so sadly i gotta avoid the hot sauce ”

“then why tf are you eating at taco bell, we’re like heartburn central bro”

“i come here cuz you work here and you’re hot.

eddie blinks and blue screens “what?”

“what?”

after eddie is a drama queen and parades around muttering about stupid pretty boys and stupid self and fuck i owe jeff money now, steve asks when eddie gets off work and if he wants to go out sometime. maybe they can get mexican?

#steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things au #eddie munson #headcanon #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon #steddie #steve harrington is down bad #eddie munson working fast food is my fav #stranger things college au

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jewishrat420 · 1 year ago

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No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon #absolutely no idea where this came from #but it's here #first kiss #mutual pining #flirting #steddie first kiss #teasing #steve harrington is down bad #eddie munson is down equally bad #idk how to tag things

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jadewritesficshere · 1 month ago

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Omega Steve and Omega Eddie who are completely enamored by each other. Absolutely feral for each other. Their scents are so thick on each other when they meet new people, people think that's just their own scent. Steve is constantly biting at Eddie's neck, leaving bites along his mating gland. They never last, even if they wish it would. Omegas can't bite deep enough to mate other omegas.

Steve is spread out in their nest, waiting for his love to come home. Its later then Eddie said, and he's trying to not let his scent turn acrid in their nest. A few minutes wouldn't be an issue, but an hour? His head pops up off the pillow when he hears the front door slam. "Eddie?" He calls, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

"Stevie, Sweetheart, can you close your eyes for a second?" Eddie calls. Steve hears his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door. "Why?" Steve glares lightly at the door," you're late by the way."

"I know and I am so sorry. What I was doing took longer then I thought and- just...please?" Eddie's scent comes through the door. Warm and apologetic. Steve sighs heavily before closing his eyes," Fine."

The door opens and Steve can hear Eddie walk up to the bed. "I'm sorry I'm late. It took longer then I expected an-" "What took longer?" "I thought it was a good idea but on the way home I overthought it and now i- well anyways I uh I got a tattoo. I uh hope you like it." Eddie whispers.

Steve opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is Eddie fidgeting with his rings. The tension in his stance. He can smell the anxiety rolling off him. The way Eddie's brow is furrowed and Eddie won't look him in the eyes. It takes Steve a second to notice the tattoo.

Steve gasps, sitting up straighter. Eddie's neck, specifically his mating gland, has a tattoo. "Is that-" Steve starts but Eddie cuts him off," Your teeth marks? Yeah. Figured since a regular bite doesn't stick might as well get it tattooed. Wanted to show the whole world we're mated."

Steve licks his lips as he stares at the tattoo. "You mad?" Eddie finally looks up into Steve's eyes. "Definitely not mad," Steve mumbles. Eddie's eyes widen as the smell of slick hits him," Oh." Steve inhales sharply, "You're so amazing and awesome and fuck me how-" "I'll fuck you don't worry."

#Eddie wasn't even sure why he was nervous his brain just got stuck in a loop and he couldn't get out of the anxiety #Steve is immediately calling Robin after like you will not believe what my mate did he's so good to me #I just really really think they would be so down bad for each other and be absolutely feral #Steddie #Steve Harrington x Eddie munson #omega steve harrington #Omega Eddie munson #Jade is talking

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hairmetal666 · 1 year ago

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It's 3am. It's pouring down rain. Steve's soaked to the skin, been wandering the city for most of the night, hasn't slept in almost 24 hours, thinks maybe he's on the brink of delirium, and then a truck hits a pool of ponded water, sending a muddy wave cascading over him.

He just wants to go home but Dustin lost his dog and he can't leave a puppy out in this weather.

Steve steps off the curb, and what looks like a shallow puddle turns out to be a water-filled hole. He crashes towards the pavement, nothing he can do to stop it. As fast he's falling, he's miraculously not, arms wrapped around his waist. It takes a second for his brain to catch up, to understand that he's being held upright in an old-fashioned, romantic dip.

"Careful, sweetheart," a deep and smoke raspy voice says from above him.

it sends chills down his spine, the good kind, and warmth slips through him. His rescuer is a solid 10 knockout. Long, curly hair; eyeliner; decked out in leather and studs and chains. He smells like booze and cigarettes and weed, and it's intoxicating. Steve has to fight the instinct to nuzzle the guy's leather jacket. He's beautiful, holds Steve with the swagger only a guy with rings on every finger could pull off.

And Steve is a mud soaked mess in sweatpants and a threadbare Hawkins High tee. But the guy holding him isn't letting go. He stares down at Steve, brown eyes wide.

"Steve!" A voice calls over the patter of the rain.

"Dustin?" He says at the same time that the man holding him says, "Henderson?"

"Eddie?" Dustin asks.

"Wait, dnd Eddie?" Steve gets his feet under him, but Eddie's arms don't drop.

"You're the famous babysitter Steve I've been hearing all about?"

They gape at each other until Dustin reaches them.

"What are you still doing out here?" Dustin shouts. "We found Dart hours ago."

"Dustin!" He thinks he might cry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You weren't answering your walkie!"

"Fuck." Steve drops his face to his hand. The walkie. Which is on the table by the front door where he and Robin leave their keys.

Steve swallows his frustration, the misery of waterlogged shoes, having to be up to open the store in a few hours, meeting the hottest guy he's ever seen when he looks like a drowned rat.

"I promised I'd find Dart, didn't I? Now what the hell are you doing out so late?"

"Mom and I were looking for you!"

"Let's get you back to the car, man, okay?" Steve says to Dustin. He wants to end this weird, terrible, embarrassing night before it gets even more humiliating.

"I can give you a ride home," Eddie says. He's got this weird, intense look on his face, staring at Steve.

"I'm only a few blocks away. I'll be fine. C'mon, Henderson."

"Oh, I can walk him. You head home."

He nods, starts towards his apartment, but turns back just in time to see Eddie and Dustin share a look he can't parse.

---

A few days later, Dustin's following him around at work, chattering about dnd as Steve shelves books, and without taking a breath during a soliloquy about owl bears, says, "Eddie's running a one-shot for us next week. You should come! It's a great way to get into the game."

"I'm not playing dnd," Steve answers. He slides a book onto the shelf. "I've told you this."

"Yeah, but you liked Eddie, right? He'd help you out!"

Steve squints at the kid. "I didn't really meet Eddie to know. Anyway, I'm sure he doesn't want a newbie crashing."

Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn't like him, based on their short introduction, so he's not interested in forcing himself into the guy's dnd club. The night they met was humiliating enough, Steve in all his dorky glory.

"No, he totally wouldn't care. C'mon, Steve!"

"No can do." He ruffles Dustin's hair as he walks away.

He thinks that'll be the end of it, but every few days, for weeks Dustin and all the rest of the kids stop at the store to beg him to join their dnd club.

---

Steve is working the register and he hears the shuffling clank of a customer, looks up and finds Eddie. He's staring at Steve with that same look from the night they met, intense and piercing, cutting straight through the heart of him. He feels himself start to blush.

The first thing out of Eddie's mouth is, "Wait, this is your store?"

"Yeah?" Steve asks. "Is that--is that weird?"

"No! Not at all. It's a good store. Cute." His nose wrinkles when he says it and Steve's blush grows hotter. He knew Eddie thought he was a dork.

"Cute. Yeah. Right. Can I help you with something?"

Eddie rocks back on his heels, hands going to the pockets of his leather jacket, sending his chains jingling. "Oh, so, actually I wanted to see if you were busy?"

"Yeah, man. I'm busy." He laughs, doesn't intend to be mean about it, but he and Robin only opened the store six months ago and both take night classes at the local community college. Plus, everything he does with the kids.

Eddie's face flushes bright. "Oh, sure, of course. Yeah, I--I'll see you around."

The door thunks to a close behind him, and a voice immediately pops up to ask, "What the hell was that?"

He turns to find Max Mayfield hands on hips, glaring up at him, Robin close behind.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

Max rolls her eyes and strides up to the counter. "Why were you an asshole to Eddie?"

"He started it!"

"I highly doubt that."

"Okay, Ms. Know-it-all, why don't you tell me what happened?"

"I know for a fact that Eddie came in today to ask you out. So, tell me, Steve Harrington, why he rushed out of here looking like a kicked puppy?"

"What?" He yelps. "Eddie doesn't even like me!"

She glares. "Doesn't like you? He's been pathetic about you since you met."

He gapes at Robin. "Don't look at me," she shrugs. "But that guy was definitely here to ask you out."

"Fix it." Max commands as she stomps out the door. "He bar tends at that metal place on 68th."

---

It's just after 9pm and he's at the metal bar on 68th, decidedly out of place in the yellow t-shirt and jeans he wore to his business accounting class.

It's fairly busy for a weeknight, but Eddie's not hard to find. He's obviously in his element, bobbing his head to a song Steve's never heard as he mixes a drink.

With a hard swallow and a healthy dose of humility, he walks up to the bar.

"Be right--" Eddie starts, balking when he notices Steve.

"Can we talk?" he shouts over the music.

Eddie's eyes widen a little, but he nods, slips out from behind the bar to guide him to an employee exit.

"What's up, Steve?" Eddie asks. His hands are in his pockets, shoulders bowed in.

"I wanted to apologize."

"What for?"

"Earlier, I--when you said the store was cute I thought you were making fun of me."

"But--why?"

"I thought you didn't like me." Steve cringes at the admission.

"What?" He laughs.

"I don't know. We met in the middle of the night and I was covered in mud looking for a dog that wasn't lost anymore."

"Steve. Holy shit." Eddie shakes his head. "You looked gorgeous that night. The way your clothes were sticking--you know what? Never mind. Did you think I wanted you to come to dnd because I hated you?"

"You wanted me to come?"

"Dustin didn't..."

"No! And he's been asking me to play dnd weekly for the past five years."

"Jesus Christ," Eddie slumps agains the brick wall at his back. "No wonder you turned me down today."

"To be fair," Steve slumps next to him. "If I had realized you were asking me out, I wouldn't have turned you down."

"No?" Eddie asks. His brown eyes gleam.

"Definitely not. I've had a crush on you since that night. Sort of devastating since I thought you didn't like me." Steve runs his hand through his hair, watches Eddie track the movement.

"The store is cute, Steve. I--uh--I've been a few times. Back before I knew you were the owner! I just kept seeing a hot employee with great hair and a perfect ass, and the vaguely mean lesbian barista gives me free drinks."

"That's Robin," Steve says. He's smiling so hard.

"I know that now," Eddie smiles back. "Sorry for being an idiot."

"Me too." Steve nods. "Do you--could I still come to dnd? Or take you out sometime?"

"Why not both?" Dimples pop on Eddie's cheeks, and Steve's heart flips.

"I like both." They're still against the wall, but drifting into each other's space.

"So Dustin said."

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Too bad. He's a nice kid."

"Eh, we've got six more to choose from."

"I have a few more hours here, but there's a diner down the street that does some of the most mediocre pancakes I've ever tasted. Meet me there? Around 2?"

"A thousand lost puppies wouldn't make me miss it."

The next time Steve is out at 3am he's pressed against a building, Eddie kissing him so thoroughly he knows he's never recovering from this one.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #meet ugly #misunderstandings #feelings confession #mutual pining #idiots to lovers #hero eddie munson #damsel in distress steve harrington #steve thinks eddie is disgusted by him #meanwhile eddie is down bad crying at dnd #the kids try to do matchmaking and only max is successful #bookstore owners steve and robin #bartender eddie munson

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backjustforberena · 1 year ago

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I wonder if any of them knew it was all for her.

#he doesn't want to be holding the Hand pin he wants to be holding HER #oh god am i about to become a corlys account? like rhaenys first and foremost but damn it if this man hasn't wormed his way into my heart #as much as i do agree he is an IDIOT #he's also ripping my guts out and i feel sorry for the man #like he's not THAT bad (on a westeros scale)#just let the man GRIEVE #(but also at the same time - corlys - pull yourself together)#i am so down bad for this line of baela to now guide corlys into this new phase #rhaenys is going to HAUNT this guy <3 #steve toussaint #corlys velaryon #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon spoilers #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenys x corlys #eve best

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queen-helaenas-pet-spider · 8 months ago

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absurddino · 28 days ago

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Eddie stops going to The Creature's shows. He doesn't care about them or their stupid band or their stupid music or their stupid front man that doesn't care about him in return.

Steve notices. Of course he notices. He feels awful. Eddie had been enthousiastic, possibly their number one fan. Most of all, Eddie always smiles all pretty when Steve sings into the mic...

So, one day Steve makes up his mind. He goes to the bar, makes sure nobody sees him, and he waits outside.

He waits for nearly an hour and a half in front of the stupid bar Eddie plays at, mask pulled tight over his face. He's not wearing the crown, because it'd felt stupid to put that on now.

He feels nothing like a king. He doesn't even feel like the front man. He just feels like a mortal.

Eddie walks out and stops in his tracks as he sees Steve.

"Hey," Steve says.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie replies. His voice is sharp. Steve doesn't blame him.

"Can't come inside. With the mask and all."

Eddie walks closer to him, crossing his arms and looking out into the empty night so he doesn't have to stare at the man that hadn't bothered to keep his promise. "What, you can't take it off? Are you that ugly?"

"Uh," Steve laughs. "Yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

Eddie looks at him. Finally, looks at him. "You want to hear my shit?" He asks. "Really hear it?"

Steve nods. Eddie's eyes are intense. Steve wants to keep looking into them forever, he wants to pick his brain about music and life. He thinks he could listen to whatever Eddie wants to ramble about. "Yeah," he croaks.

"We rehearse Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. 10PM. Last house on Cherry Lane."

And Eddie doesn't get the chance to say anything more, because one of his band members appears and pulls him along to their van.

At least he'll know where to find him now.

(pt.1) (pt.2)

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fic #fic ideas #stranger things fanfiction #absurddino #🪷#eddie is lowk vibrating about the whole inviting your fav singer thing #but its okay hes so cute about it #and steve would probably think its cute #eddie forgives him just like that too #cause hes Smitten #and down bad

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gas-station-trackphone · 2 years ago

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ftm trans Eddie Munson gets turned into a chew toy for hell bats and rescued in the 11th hour by his friends who don't know he's trans, who have to run some triage first aid and can hardly make sense of the blood and gore that used to be his body as they cut off his shirt and pants to get access to the worst of the wounds, who definitely aren't in their right minds well enough anyway to think of anything other than stopping the bleeding and getting him to a hospital, which they do, and miraculously Eddie finds himself blinking awake in a bright, fluorescent room feeling exactly like he imagines a chew toy for hell bats would feel in the aftermath which is to say: like shit. Even more miraculously, he finds hometown hero Steve Harrington posted up at his bedside with greasy hair (!!! Eddie never thought he'd see the day) and bags under his eyes.

The overwhelming relief on Steve's face when he sees Eddie is awake is touching, the misty eyes and cracking voice when he says god, i thought you were toast, man are downright flattering and, let's face it, giving Eddie all the wrong ideas that he figures he has an I-almost-died pass for at the moment so he rocks with it, let's himself indulge in the fantasy for a moment. Then, gradually, Steve's relief becomes more and more obviously some brand of deeply felt pity (or sympathy, but Eddie's never been good at distinguishing the two), which bursts his bubble enough to call him out.

"I know I look like what comes out the business end of a meat grinder, but I swear I'm good, dude. They definitely have me on the good shit, I hardly feel it. I'll be good as new in no time." Big fat fucking lie, by the way, but he'll say whatever if it gets that wounded puppy look out of Harrington's eyes.

"I...yeah, Eddie, I'm glad." And whatever it is he doesn't want to say, whatever is putting that you poor motherfucker look on his face, he's absolutely the opposite of subtle about it.

Eddie can hear the manifestation of his panic on the heart monitor.

"What? What is it? Is everyone- is Dustin-?" He can't say it, can't even think it, would rather be slowly torn to shreds all over again than know he failed at his one fucking task to keep the kid safe.

"No! I mean, yes, he's fine, they're all fine. Henderson's got a broken ankle and both of Max's arms are broken but the docs say they'll be fine in a few months with physical therapy."

The release of tension in Eddie's body hurts almost as much as the relief soothes him. "Okay then, what the fuck are you not telling me? It's fine, I'm a big boy, Harrington, I can take it."

He sighs, looking sick with it. "Eds...I don't know how to tell you this."

Oh god, what the fuck. Eddie's right back to freaking out because Steve looks inexplicably guilty, pained in the face like he's about to deliver the worst news he could imagine but if everyone's fine then-

"It's your dick, man. It's- it's gone. The bats-"

And Eddie laughs so hard he tears about a dozen stitches, immediately stops laughing, and throws up over the side of the bed and thankfully not all over his freshly reopened wounds as Steve shouts for help.

Eventually, when he's all stitched up again and barely hanging on to his hard earned lesson to not literally bust his gut laughing about the look on Steve's face (he has to force himself not to tell Wayne the specifics of how he ended up back in the OR, because he's absolutely gonna crack up and Eddie will definitely be unable to help himself from laughing with him), he realizes he's going to come out to all his friends in the very near future because holy shit, he has to tell everyone about Steve's utterly devastated expression at the news of Eddie's Ken doll-ification by way of demobat.

#I've been laughing about this in my head for WEEKS #the idea that steve feels so bad eddie got his dick eaten by demobats that he literally can't hide it and tells him immediately kills me #as always please read into the gay subtext here bc yes eddie also tells this story at their wedding many years down the line #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie

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paperbackribs · 11 months ago

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It’s movie night for the Hawkins' party and, if the kids ever settle down, they might actually be able to hear the goddamn trailers playing before Night of the Creeps starts.

Steve’s getting the snacks from his kitchen with Argyle and Nancy helping, while Eddie is about to add an extra Coke can to the two he's currently juggling on the couch next to Robin. The condensation makes the aluminium sweaty and hard to grab, which Eddie says is the best part, but all Robin can think of is the hissy fit Steve will throw if Eddie drops one and it explodes.

She nudges Eddie with a sharp elbow, timing it so he drops only one and onto the soft cushions they sit on. It bounces and Eddie hurriedly grabs the red can before it falls to the floor, belatedly remembering Steve's threat the last time Eddie had made a mess.

“I dare you to kiss the next person who walks in through the door.”

Eddie scoffs, looking around at the room full of young teens that he’s not going anywhere near. “No, thank you, John Walsh.”

“From the kitchen,” Robin wheedles, bored and hoping for something interesting to happen.

Eddie sneers, “What am I? Some brainless jock, tripping over himself to conform with the rest of the flock. You kiss whoever walks in the door next.”

Suddenly, Steve swaggers into the living room with a bowl full of popcorn at his hip, calling out in what Eddie thinks of as his ‘dad’ voice, "Time to rock and roll.” He throws a kernel into the air and snaps it up with gleaming white teeth.

Eddie sighs quietly to Robin, “I’m throwing in the towel, Buckley.”

She snorts in amusement.

“Steve," Eddie calls with resignation warring over his excitement, "get your ass over here; we’ve got a game to win.”

Steve perks up and Eddie suddenly understands that he's the true winner, about to hold the golden crown and, even better, probably about to grab the golden ass.

Meanwhile, Robin snickers into the background, waiting for the moment that she can grandly tell the two dinguses she told them so. They'll grumble and they'll deny, but Steve and Eddie will ever be grateful for the interferance of Robin T. Buckley, platonic soulmate and goddamn miracle worker of Hawkins.

#that boy is down bad #I'm sorry #I love Eddie's resignation in this so much that I'm reposting #it does have an adjusted end though #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #paperbackribs writing

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broareweabouttoviberightnow · 5 months ago

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When the boys are about to do something really stupid but they're too far away for Darry to yell at them he just shouts their name n when they look he gives them the firmest 🤨👎 you've ever seen

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dreamsteddie · 2 months ago

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See Me Through Rose Tinted Glasses

It's finally happening! The final part! A fic that was supposed to take two weeks and be 2,000 words long turned into a two and a half month 8,000 plus word project. @devondespresso thank you so much for bearing with me as I wrote this, I hope you enjoy it!

divider from @thecutestgrotto

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Ao3

“Hey babe, sorry I’m late. We couldn’t decide what ice cream to get. We ended up just getting both. God knows between you and Dustin it’ll be gone by the week anyway.” He doesn’t look up as he’s coming through the door, too focused on juggling his five bags of groceries and toeing off his shoes at the door.

When no response comes, he stops. Eddie is never quiet, nor is Dustin.

“Eddie? Dustin?” He calls out, his mom coming through the door behind him.

“Oh honey, don’t be so anxious. They’re probably upstairs going over those books Dusty loves again. You know how they get absorbed in those things.” Steve does know. It’s one of the things he both loves and loathes about the little family unit they’ve got going on, not that Steve would ever refer to them as such in front of Eddie. It would be too much, just like he always is.

He’s getting ready to take his mom’s word for it, drop off the groceries and let himself ignore the strange feeling tickling up the back of his neck, when he sees the absolute mess of their kitchen table. Newspapers and glossy picture printouts that he knows he’s going to find charged to his own card because his brother is a little shit.

“Jesus fuck Steve, you didn’t tell me Eddie did track! I couldn’t even get close to him before he was gone.” Dustin says as he comes in from the back door, clearly a little winded. Steve doesn’t even tell him to watch his language because…well because what the fuck.

“Dustin, dude, what the hell is all of this?” He asks, completely ignoring his brother as he goes on. He picks up a particularly unflattering close-up of Eddie, only to be met with a sight he truly did not want to associate with his sibling. “Is this a fucking Playgirl? What the fuck Dustin?” The mention of illicit materials is enough to summon their mom in record time.

“Dustin Michael Henderson, your brother better not have said what I think he said,” she chimes in from the doorway.

“Mom, mom, no! It’s not like that, I swear, it’s research!” Dustin bellows way too loud for the small space of their dining room.

“Honey, it’s perfectly natural to be curious about women, but I would appreciate it if you kept your research in your room and off the dining room table.”

Steve tunes them out, too used to the ebbs and flows of their family dynamic to be concerned, not with the Beautiful Minds, 1920s detective shit taking up space in his third favorite room in the house. It takes him longer than it probably should to realise what he’s looking at, and almost no time after he does to get a sinking suspicion of what Dustin has been sneaking around about for the past few weeks while giving his boyfriend the cold shoulder.

Normally, he wouldn’t interrupt Dustin getting a lecture from their mom, it’s always so well deserved, but he needs answers. He reaches a hand back without looking, using what he likes to call his ‘brother sense’ to give Dustin a good couple of smacks in the shoulder to get his attention. Mom usually has something to say about bones and medical conditions when he gets the slightest but rough, but she’s a little preoccupied at the moment.

“Seriously Dustin, what the hell his going on here? What did you do?” Dustin sputters indignantly from behind him, as if he isn’t clearly guilty of something.

“I didn’t do anything Steve.” He says crossing around into his brother’s line of sight, crossing his arms in a clear mockery of Steve’s ‘this is serious’ pose. The kid really needs to get his attitude in check.

“I was just performing my brotherly duties of making sure Eddie knows to be careful! This was just research to make sure he knows that I know how to bury him, if need be. Me and the girls, of course,” he continues. “The guy’s got a wild life, I’ll tell you that.”

As he wraps up his defence, Dustin picks up a newspaper to wave around like evidence, and that’s when the final pieces slot into place.

Local Teen, Eddie Munson, Arrested in Connection to Murder of Chrissy Cunningham.

The picture makes his heart clench painfully. Black and white and yellowed with age but still so clear. It’s Eddie, fresh out of high school. Hair shorter, ears sticking out sweetly, dirt on his face, eyes past full of deep fear. His Eddie.

“Dustin where did you get that?” He asks, severe in a way he never is. It’s enough even to stop Dustin in his tracks. “Dustin!” He snaps when he doesn’t say anything. He can hear their mom gasp and start to chastise him, but he doesn’t listen.

“I went to the library! I just asked them to give me everything on Eddie Munson and they gave me a bunch of stuff. It’s not like I broke any laws of anything!” Dustin is getting man now, too, which is never a good combination. They’re both too stubborn for their own good.

Steve pinches his nose as hard as he can to stave off the impending blowup he can feel building under his skin. Their mom relies on him to be the more level-headed one. “It doesn’t matter where you got it, man, you shouldn’t have it in the first place,” he grits out.

“Why not?” Dustin asks like Steve is being dumb. “It’s like, public knowledge. It’s out there for anyone who wants to know. You should know. I know Eddie’s a great guy but this is a big deal and you should-”

“I already know about this crap, dipshit! I didn’t need you digging around in my boyfriend’s private life for me!” He’s officially lost his cool.

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that? I’m just trying to look out for you!” Dustin yells back. “Besides, why shouldn’t we know about it? It’s not like I hunted down his old classmates or something; it was in the newspaper! A bunch of newspapers!”

“Boys, this really isn’t-”

“BECAUSE IT’S NONE OF OUR BUSINESS DUSTIN! JESUS H CHRIST.” He’s breathing hard, like he just ran a marathon, as silence descends around them. Steve never screams, never raises his voice. Not like that, but he’s done.

Steve runs his hand through his hair. Twenty minutes ago, he was thinking about whether or not he would have enough time to style it before their reservation at Enzo’s. Was thinking about if his red sweater was clean and if the ice cream would survive the car ride and if he should have the pasta or the pork at dinner tonight and if Eddie would invite him back to his house at the end of the night.

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t give a shit if it’s public knowledge or not, Eddie deserved to tell us this kind of shit when he was ready. If he was ever ready.” Too late for that, an unhelpful part of his brain supplies.

Steve watches as the fight slowly drains out of his brother, and the weight of the skeleton he just dragged out of the closet registers. The thing about Dustin is that, no matter how badly he pushes your buttons or calls you stupid to your face, he’s a good kid. The best, really. He just gets ahead of himself, so far in front he can’t see the consequences.

He looks down at the paper still clutched in his hand, staring hard at the same picture Steve had, and frowns. “Shit,” he says, elequent as always.

“Yeah man, shit is right,” Steve responds.

No one seems to know where to go from there. Time is ticking past, and with every second, Steve feels a burning building in his feet, telling him to go looking for Eddie. Dustin said he ran out the back door, which doesn’t bode well. He hopes he went back to his apartment, but there’s no saying for sure.

It’s his mom who gives him direction. She’s always been the wisest of any of them, the strongest too, always able to handle any situation the world throws at them. Dustin isn’t ready for a full apology, and Steve sure as hell isn’t ready to offer any forgiveness, so there’s only really one thing to do.

She places a warm, soft hand on his arm and gives it a squeeze. “You go find Eddie, I’ll take care of things here,” she says, shooting a meaningful look at a visibly cowed but silent Dustin. He squeezes her into a hard hug, suddenly violently grateful for her presence in his life, and runs out the door.

He’s got a rock start to find.

Eddie is not wearing shoes for this kind of walking. In all honesty, he probably doesn’t even own a pair of shoes designed for support anymore. Everything he buys nowadays is for the vibe.

God, he feels like a poser all of a sudden.

Two miles probably shouldn’t be that big a deal, but after the night he’s had, the pain building in his feet is draining every last bit of his energy to the point of debating just calling Steve tomorrow. The only thing stopping him is the knowledge that Steve probably, definitely, saw him run out the door and is probably worried sick.

Despite the little demon in his brain telling him that after he takes a good look at all the skeletons in his closet he won’t care to look for him, Eddie knows that Steve is too good a guy to let even the lowest of low lives get lost in the Hawkins woods.

The good thing about the walk is that he gets to rehearse every imaginable scenario for how his impending interaction with Steve will go.

“Hey babe, sorry about running off like that. Now let me explain about those murders.”

No.

“Wild about those Playgirls right? I don’t know how they even got those pictures!”

Also no.

“Please, please don’t leave me. I swear half this shit is made up anyway. Please.”

Well, maybe.

The last block of his walk passes in a blur, like his brain can’t process that the walking is almost over. Consequently, the sight of Steve sitting on his front porch feels like a mirage. Something distant and perfect that could slip right through his fingers if he’s not careful.

He stops, his fashionable but painful boots finding purchase in the dewy, patchy grass of his rented front lawn.

Steve is always stupidly beautiful to Eddie. The guys say he has rose-tinted glasses on, but they don’t know what they’re talking about. They’ve only seen Steve through grainy photographs that don’t do him justice. They see him like the placid lake in a pleasant but static panorama that hangs in a high-class office, while Eddie sees the bubbling, splendid life hiding beneath.

Steve is good at presenting an unflappable, calm facade. He acts like he’s above it all, and Eddie, so far, has let him think that the people closest to him can’t see that his heart is perpetually stuck in the trenches.

All of that veneer is stripped from Steve in this moment.

He looks tired.

He looks scared.

Eddie feels like his heart is going to shrivel up in his chest. Wayne must have been wrong. All that time Eddie spent telling himself it would work out on his walk here was just him selling himself a fairytale. Steve is scared, but he’s being brave so he can let Eddie down and leave him behind for good.

Eddie takes a deep breath, tries to ignore the breath stalling in his throat and the burning behind his eyes. He can do this. Good things rarely last for him, he shouldn’t be surprised this is how it’s going to end.

He closes his eyes, letting himself have one more moment of peace before his heart splinters in his chest.

Which means he doesn’t see Steve make his way towards him, his vintage Nikes soft enough in the soles to muffle his soft footsteps. It’s not until he feels warm, slightly calloused hands cupping his cheeks, that he even realizes that Steve has come closer.

Eddie flinches on instinct, too wound up to expect the gentle, insistent kindness Steve reaches out with. He doesn’t let it deter him, just curls his fingers so his ring and middle fingers cup just behind the curve of his ear, teasing the baby hairs found there.

“Eddie,” He breaths out. And, oh, that’s not the voice of somebody who’s getting ready to break his heart, not at all. Eddie opens his eyes, and that’s not the face of someone who’s afraid of him, maybe the opposite.

Maybe he didn’t see them, then, the skeletons in his closet. Maybe Eddie will still have to tell him and watch the fear bubble up and the care drip out. The thought makes his breath hitch, but he doesn’t look away.

“Eddie. I know, it’s ok.” Steve’s voice is rough and soft at the same time, a beautiful contradiction that obscures the meaning of his words for a moment. Eddie scrunches as the answer comes to him. That can’t be right. He must be talking about something else. Maybe the rehab, maybe the overdose that preceded it, because Steve wouldn’t be looking at him like that if he were talking about Chrissy.

“You don’t know, I-I” He needs to say it, but the atoms in his body are resisting. They want to stay in Steve’s orbit for as long as they can. Let his beautiful eyes and his beautiful hands and his beautiful voice cradle him into the long night, and they know that everything they touch goes ugly.

Steve deserves anything but the ugly of Eddie’s life.

“I know Eddie. I have known. The entire time. Since we met.” The words don’t register, not fully.

“Wha-”

And now Steve is the one who looks guilty, which is absurd.

“Fuck, this is so stupid.” Steve pinches his nose, a tell Eddie has learned to mean anything from Steve feeling mild exasperation to Steve pushing down tears. He hopes it’s not the latter, he doesn’t think he could handle seeing Steve cry on top of everything else. “Robin got really into those true crime radio shows for a while, like…three years ago?” Steve starts, not looking Eddie in the eye, but clinging tight to the back of his shirt, not letting go.

“She made me listen to them all the time, would just change the station whenever she got in my car like I wanted to listen to a bunch of washed up 30 something act like they know shit about fuck.” Which…Eddie is aware that people talk about what happened. They like to bring it up every anniversary, every album drop, every birthday, every time there isn’t a better headline to print, but radio shows?

“You knew?” It seems impossible that Steve could have known, really known, what happened before he agreed to let Eddie take him out. Not the full of it, anyway.

“I don’t really give a shit what Jim, or John, or Jerremy with a microphone or Jan and Josie on the morning news have to say about my boyfriend.” There’s that little bitchy furrow of his brow that Eddie is learning to love. He kind of wants to bite it, which is really not an appropriate thought to have during what feels like one of the most important conversations he’s had in the last five years.

“I ran, Steve.” Because that’s always been the sticking point, for him, for everyone. He ran. He got locked in a closet, listened to the nicest girl in his school get mangled to death through the other side, and ran before he even knew she was gone.

Ran and didn’t look back.

Ran until the soles of his feet bled and the sirens caught up.

Ran and didn’t even try to help. Didn’t even try to save her.

And then he ran again tonight. Nothing changed. Nothing new. The same Eddie he was on the worst night of his life.

The same Eddie that only an uncle could love.

But maybe, impossibly, he’s wrong again. Because they haven’t said the words, and it feels too fast to be something he can recognize on sight, but Steve is looking at him with eyes full of love and understanding.

“It sounded scary.” It was. By god, had he been scared.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry about Chrissy.” So is he, every day.

“I would have run, too,” Steve says.

It feels like a lie—or, no. It feels like Steve is telling him what he thinks is the truth, underestimating himself with full confidence. Eddie knows, somewhere deep in his bones beyond his rational thought, that Steve would stand his ground in the face of even the worst monsters—in the face of Henry Creel.

But it’s enough, somehow, to hear him say it. To hear Steve say that not only does he know, actually truly know, but that he understands.

I love you, the thinks. “Thank you,” he says.

Steve smiles, slow and charming and tilting up on one side. Eddie lets himself wrap his arms fully around him, still a little unsure of his welcome but willing to try just about anything to get a little bit closer to that smile. “Of course, baby. You know you’re not the only one with a couple of demons hanging around. I’m just sorry you didn’t get to tell me in your own time,” Steve says.

Steve is running a hand through his hair now, settling flyaway hairs from his mad dash like he has any hope of getting them to stay.

Maybe it’s better this way, Eddie thinks to himself. For all the drama, all the fear, Eddie doesn’t know if he would have ever been brave enough to say it himself. He might have gone months, years, with this secret eating him alive, wondering if Steve would leave him when he found out, taking their little burgeoning family with him when he left/

At least this way, Eddie knows. It should have been his choice, Steve is right, but at least he doesn’t have to live with the ‘what if?’ anymore.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and lets it go. The worst as passed, the storm has moved on, and Eddie would really, truly like to sleep for at least twelve hours straight and take these boots off before his feet bleed.

For now, though, he lets himself tuck into the safety of his boyfriend’s neck and close his eyes, just for a moment. Steve continues to pet his hair, carefully detangling the strants, and lets out a low humm of contentment, like he’s completely happy to stand with Eddie in the patchwork grass for as long as he’d like.

A beat passes where they just listen to the crickets sing and the cars rumble in the distance.

It’s Steve who speaks first.

“And hey, maybe when you’re feeling a little better, we can look through that Playgirl together.”

Eddie smiles.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

Tag List: @warlordess @shoujo-wizard @thewickedkat @phiauniverse @estrellami-1 @awcere

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