#holy things steve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hitlikehammers · 2 months

Text

take the call

rating: t ♥️ cw: off-screen car accident (but EVERYTHING IS FINE), hurt/comfort, softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, married steddie, hurt/comfort, rockstar Eddie/teacher Steve, Steve's heart of gold is very possibly going to be Eddie's undoing one of these days, well-worn-soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: Love is terrifying (@starryeyedjanai)

set in the 00s, with Steve and Eddie having two decades of loving under their belts, now ♥️

Eddie isn’t expecting a call, any call, really; he’s in the studio, like, if he gets a call someone takes a message or whatever.

And in fairness, Eddie doesn’t get the call.

He gets a message.

“Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth.

“Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.”

He’s not thoughtless at all about the way he clocks the tension in Jeff’s voice even across the speaker system; it’s entirely automatic how he freezes, how he looks up and locks eyes with his friend through the glass and sucks in a sharp breath for the look on his face: pained.

Maybe, maybe scared.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere near his knees, but beats there so fucking hard.

“This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but—

“She, um,” Jeff’s voice is filtering through again, and Eddie clocks that there’s…there’s something more to it, more than his brain’s willing to grasp just yet but his body’s apparently picked up on because he thinks the slightest breeze would knock him over and shatter him into pieces, for the tightness in his body; he’s not focused enough to count the separate beats of his pulse but he can tell it’s quick enough already, still weighed down near his feet, that counting would be kinda hard, would take effort:

“She found the phone at a car crash?”

So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew.

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

“Sounded kinda like, uh, like it could have been Steve’s phone,” Jeff is trying to tell him, and part of Eddie hears it, part of him does but most of him is white noise, is pins-and-needles, is underwater and drowning and not even fucking thinking of fighting the pull because he can’t, he’s heavy at the legs and his lungs are seizing and there’s, he’s—

“Because it, umm, she found the card because the case was broken?” and just last night Eddie’d watched Steve pop off the case and slide the cards behind with a laugh and a promise to take them with him not today—because it’s one of those federal holidays that only schools notice happening, like the post office is still open—but definitely tomorrow, never knew which of the kiddos at the Rich People School might be a budding metalhead underneath their uniforms—

“And she said the case was, um, like bright—“

Green.

Electric lime neon fuckin’ green because after three times of Eddie taking Steve’s phone by accident he’d come home with that endearing eyesore, and a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose and a soft hard to confuse that, babe nuzzled against him and—

“It could maybe have just been a coincide—“ Jeff’s talking but Eddie can’t fucking hear it, not really, not when he’s letting the door slam behind him and ripping off his headphones to drop to the groundnut when he’s gasping hard enough to crack a rib, not when the floor’s gone out from underneath him and his vision’s tunneled and nothing seems real, and everything feels too real, every world ending possibility shuddering through his foggy mind alongside every heartbreakingly perfect memory blossoming up unbidden just to serve as a reminder, an underscoring of what he stands to lose, what maybe he’s already fucking lost—

He meets Jeff’s eyes without the glass between them as he grabs his keys from his jacket on the couch and makes himself take the breath that’ll fuel the voice, that’ll give him words, just one word, he needs, he fucking needs—

“Where?”

_______________________

Eddie shouldn’t have driven himself, he knows that.

Like, on some other plane of existing, he’s sure he knows that.

But on this plane, he rips past his bandmates, all the extra people with them for recording, jams the close-door button before anyone can follow him into the elevator because he happens to know this one’s quicker than the stairs even on a good day, and this—

Eddie’s shaking so goddamn hard he can barely get one foot in front of the other, he really doesn’t think he can manage ten fucking flights of steps.

He burns rubber on the way out of the parking lot, and the nearest hospital to where Steve would have been—on his day off, because holiday, he’d have bene close to home, he mentioned food shopping, he thought he might make stir-fry but he wasn’t sure, they hadn’t made a vegetable haul from the Asian market downtown in a couple weeks and they need to, they need to but Steve wasn’t feeling like going on his own, because he might not say it out loud but they both know he enjoys Eddie’s excitability when new items hit the shelves and he can’t read the language they’re labelled in so he guesses frantically until the man who owns the place takes pity, only laughs a little and explains what this spice is for, or that that crazy looking thing’s a fruit, and they ultimately buy whatever it is because Eddie wants to try it now, because he got invested and—

Eddie should pull off the fucking road; his head’s a mess, he can’t see for the way his eyes are welling, streaming, the way he’s shaking with sobs that don’t exactly burst forth, just leak from his lashes as he trembles horrifically because…

Because they were maybe gonna have stir-fry, tonight. Even without the good vegetables.

They were—

Eddie thinks it’s fucking cruel, kind of unbearably so, that his brain’s dead-set on still processing the mundane little perfections of his life as if every single one of them might be dashed to pieces, might be hanging by a thread, might be entirely fucking gone, and he, he…

He can’t. He just, he fucking can’t.

Because that the thing, isn’t it: the scenarios he’s imagining aren’t hypothetical—they’re all memories, too. Steve bloodied, Steve bruised, Steve’s bones broken and flesh torn. Steve still, too still; Steve’s skin under Eddie’s hands when he can’t find a pulse because Eddie’s shaking, same as now how Eddie is fucking shaking—

Eddie knows all those things. They’re so long ago, now, so distant but his fucking cells will never forget every single moment he saw the man he loves bigger than his own goddamn life hurt like that; be risked like that. Be lost like—

And that’s the difference. That’s what is unravelling him as he speeds through the streets quicker than he should, probably breaking more laws than he could count and definitely more than he gives a shit to notice: it’s the losing.

Because the first times, even the times that came after Steve was his: they didn’t come with the loss of so much time, so much of themselves, so much glorious life that they’d built between them, the struggles and the triumphs, the hard choices and the easy things that weren’t choices at all: everything hand-in-hand, every night spent curled around each other, all of them, all of him, inside that chest since he was twenty fucking year old, and Eddie doesn’t just not know how to be outside of what he shares with Steve.

Eddie doesn’t think his own heart can survive, if if Steve’s isn’t next to him.

Eddie’s damn fucking sure no part of him would want to.

It takes him a minute to steady himself enough to get out of the car, once he finally reaches the ER. Steady his body, but more his fucking soul because the whole of him is shaking, is crying out, is wailing unfettered and breaking because he’s terrified, he is goddamn terrified of what he’s going to find when he walks in but he has to, he has to because whatever awaits him, that’s his husband, that is the love of his whole goddamn life and if the worst is going to come for him he’ll face it like he’s faced everything else: at Steve Harrington’s side.

If the worst comes for one of them, then it came for them both.

So he’s stumbling, shuddering, but resolute in his chest when he flies through the sliding doors, eyes still swimming, unfocused but he makes himself take a deep breath—it takes a few tries, and he doesn’t quite succeed, it’s still a tremorous thing and his lungs are still in revolt, but it’s something, and he’ll take something; he has to to take something—

“Eddie?”

He almost doesn’t register it, the voice from the sick-spiral of his memories, all the love on the table to be forfeit—

He almost doesn’t register that his name’s not coming from inside his head.

“Oh my god, what happened?” There’s a flurry over motion in front of him, and he blinks rapidly to try and pin it down because it looks familiar, it smells familiar, it aches familiar in his chest but:

“What is it, what’s wrong?” and fuck, it feels familiar when a hand reaches for his cheek where it’s still damp, tacky for the tears; when another hand slides itself into Eddie’s and draws him in, a hand that fits like no other hand in this world or any other, ever—

“Are you okay?”

And the hand on his cheek turns him and follows his eyes and it takes that long for him to clear his vision properly, but now he’s just blinking so much because that, that can’t be, even if it feels in every goddamn way like it really is, but it can’t…

It can’t be Steve here, whole and on his feet and looking at Eddie with so much worry, so much heart as he tilts Eddie’s chin a little this way, that way, squints to try and see…something.

Eddie’s breath tears out of him in a wet fucking gasp;

“Am I okay?”

Because Eddie’s really not the one to fucking worry about here, Steve had—

“You’re in a hospital, Eds, that’s not usually where you go when you’re okay,” Steve’s eyes widen as he he slides both hands now to Steve’s head, holding him still and assessing…something, maybe, Jesus: Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that the touch on him now makes his…makes his heart feel safe and he’d been fucking terrified he’d never feel that again.

“Fuck, what happened, baby, did you hit your,” and fingers are dancing gentle across points on Eddie’s skull, so delicate and careful and he can’t fucking help it—

“Are you real?”

Because he needs to know, he needs to know with words because this feels…this feels right and warm and impossible but also true, so.

He needs to know. “Am I…?” Steve’s lips part and his brow furrows before his jaw clenches in that dependable way he has of squaring up to the monster at hand, no matter the kind.

“Shit,” he breathes out slow but then he nods: resolved; “shit, okay. Okay, let’s find—“

“You are real,” and it turns out Eddie didn’t actually need him to say it. He just needed to see the flash in Steve’s eyes when he was ready to take on the world for the sake of love, the way he positions himself a little different in front of Eddie as he keeps one hand at Eddie’s cheek but then slides to brace more at his neck, purposeful, like he’s splinting a wound or something, and then a hand grabs for Eddie’s own again and: oh.

Oh yes. That is Steve Harrington, living and breathing and solid and real, because no one else protects like this.

No one.

Eddie’s heart stumbles, jackrabbits around a little, almost like a reset: like it knows as the implications sink in to Eddie’s mind that it’s not destined to break anymore.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees too easily, distracted as he tugs the gentlest bit at Eddie’s hand, toward the nurse’s station; “yeah, and we should—“

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs it off, but Eddie…Eddie’s vision is clearing. His pulse is settling. He can hear above the static and his limbs are getting lighter.

“You’re one-hundred-percent okay, not a scratch on you, not a single thing wrong,” he needs to make sure, like, so fucking sure.

“I am fine, Eddie,” Steve turns to look him straight on, exasperated and anxious and vibrant with it, so alive in it; “but you’re—“

Eddie’s hand moves almost without his conscious consent, definitely without a plan to grab at Steve’s arm and pinch his skin because Eddie was vaguely toying with the idea of pinches himself, and maybe with poking Steve a few extra times to make sure he didn’t disappear, but apparently his brain landed on: pinch Steve, avoid confirmation bias if your head wants to lie enough to make him real just you you, because you need him that bad.

Steve startles, and turns those beautiful brilliant bronze eyes on Eddie, stretches wide as he gapes a little at his husband.

Eddie…Eddie is here, in front of his living-breathing-gorgeously-aghast husband.

“Okay, oww,” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls back, leaving Eddie’s head to its own devices as he looks a little shocked, shooting just shy of a glare Eddie’s way: full of questions.

Eddie—now that the biggest one’s solved, and solved so perfect, so gentle and sure and he doesn’t have to bury the soul of him; he doesn’t have to bury his soul—but now?

Eddie also has some fucking questions.

“Where’s your phone?” seems the most relevant to start with.

Steve blinks, frowns a little:

“It got lost in the crash—“

“Crash?” Eddie’s tone pitches up to squeak a little because: Steve’s here and whole in from of him, yes. But fuck, there was still a crash? He was—

“Not mine, my car’s still parked at fucking Jiffy Lube,” Steve adds with a huff; “I saw it happen so I stopped and—“

And Eddie knows his husband. He knows his husband better than he knows himself, and Eddie’s kinda made it a point of pride for how self-aware he’s grown to be these days, in living this life and loving Steve beyond the bounds of living at all. But he knows his Steve, and so he knows damn well what happened.

Car runs into car. Steve sees it and jumps out to help. Because Steve Harrington is a protector. Steve Harrington is a helper. Steve Harrington is the best man Eddie’s ever known.

Soon as he jumped into the fray, he wouldn’t have thought once about a fucking phone.

And Eddie, Eddie just, he needs to—

He grabs Steve’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, lets them go and then pulls Steve tight to his chest and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder as Eddie winds his way around his husband, feels him breathing, feels the tickle of his hair.

“You’re gonna kill me, Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, that going tight now all over again:

“You’ve got the biggest heart of fucking gold the world’s ever seen,” he moans into Steve’s collar; “and you’re going to fucking kill me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his hands move up to rub Eddie’s back, rote and learned and he might not wholly get, yet, what Eddie’s putting together, and where Eddie’s head’s been, what his heart’s been through, but the first thing he knows, and does like clockwork, is to love of his partner, to soothe him even if he doesn’t know what for.

“Someone found your phone, and they, umm,” Eddie licks his lips, takes a suffering breath and tries to straighten but he’s not ready, not yet: he slumps right back onto Steve’s shoulder:

“They called the studio.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, bunches his hands in Eddie’s shirt and draws him tighter to his chest: “shit, they interrupted,” and oh, fuck no, fuck regretting the interruption—

“They told me they found it at a crash site,” Eddie grits out, the hurt of it still raw, like just saying the words no matter where they landed in trust, just recalling those minutes that felt like full nightmarish lifetimes, reopens the tender wounds it’d left in hims; “they found it with the case broken,” and Steve leans back, then, eyes saucers as he meets Eddie’s gaze, breath catches harsh.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie’s, taking the whole of him in and then he exhales so heavy:

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, fucking mournful before he takes his hands and links them behind the base of Eddies’ skull and draws him in to the center of his chest, envelopes him there whole: “come here.”

And Eddie falls into that chest—rising-falling-living—he falls into Steve so fucking fast

“I am totally fine, I promise you,” Steve breathes again Eddie’s ear, close and dear and real: “car’s fine—“

“I don’t fucking care about the car—“ Eddie tenses up, appalled at the implication that he gave one single goddamn thought to the car— “No, like, as proof,” Steve’s quick to correct him, to ease the hackles on him; “I wasn’t in the crash, but it was pretty bad and,” Steve shrugs a little then adds soft: “I keep my first aid certs up to date for a reason, I figure, right?”

Jesus; yes, okay. Steve’s savior complex had largely mellowed to a non-interdimensional-threat level with time but he’s meticulous about keeping every skillset he’d gone out of his way to learn from professionals before they’d gone up against the Upside Down for the last time sharp and at the ready for anything: even now.

Fuck, but this beautiful, brilliant, impossible man.

“I was helping, best I could, until the EMTs got there,” Steve tells him softly, fills in the gaps because he knows Eddie’s mind, all the pictures it paints for itself, and in times like these it’s always the worst possible pictures—he knows Eddie needs the slate wiped clean with the truths, blessedly softer, in this:

“Police wanted me to stick around for a statement but the girl who was driving the first car, she was so panicked and she didn’t want to go alone so, umm,” Steve huffs a little, shifts against Eddie gentle and solid and here: “she said she knew me, she was pretty desperate I think, so I rode here with her,” and of course he did, of course he did because he’s Steve; “now I’m just waiting to make sure she gets out of surgery okay,” he squeezes Eddie then, like a punctuation, and it feels so, so fucking good; “also still have to give the goddamn statement, but fuck knows that’s just hurry-up-and-wait,” he turns, and he kisses Eddie’s hair then and Eddie feels something snap in him, give way and the lingering tension spill from his frame as he gasp a little on a breathy exhale:

“I love you so much,” and he does, god: god, but how much he loves this man.

“I love you too, baby,” Steve mouths against his head and Eddie closes his eyes and nuzzles his a little closer as he puts it into words, because it feels like he needs to, it feels like in Steve’s arms like this, pressed up close to him to feel this undeniable life in him: it feels like the coast is clear enough to risk it, to confess:

“I was so fucking scared,” and the words only break a little, and that’s more than Eddie honestly expected.

“I am so sorry,” Steve bows his chin down to graze lips against Eddie’s hairline, delicate and intimate and shivery, trembly down Eddie’s spin for the best of reasons, now.

“Not your fault,” Eddie’s quite to counter, to make clear, because: “shit, you didn’t do anything, I just…”

Eddie makes himself pull back and meet Steve’s eyes, reaches out to frame his face, dear and desperate:

“I can’t lose you,” he moans a little, begs a little, says it with a bare line of something primal echoing in it, scraped straight from his bones: “I cannot ever lose you.”

“I know,” Steve turns and kisses one of his palms, and those two words hold the promise of five more they’ve said so many times, and held so true between them for so many year, through so fucking much:

It’s the same for me.

And to be loved the same as he loves is a fucking privilege; it’s heady and it’s wonderful and Eddie needs it, needs Steve, more than goddamn air.

“Sit with me?” Steve covers Eddie’s hands with his at his cheeks, and nods a little toward the blessedly-quiet collection of chairs by the windows; “while I wait?”

“Nowhere else I’d go,” Eddie says it like the given that it is, and pulls Steve close to kiss him full, to press his lips to Steve’s and drink his warmth, his breath, to feel it sink int past his heart and pump through his veins:

“Not ever, Stevie,” he speaks against Steve’s lips, all of him in it, every vow inside it:

“Not ever.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #established relationship #established steddie #married steddie #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #rockstar husbands #steve harrington's heart of gold #(will quite possibly be the death of his husband holy FUCK)#criminal levels of softness #steddielovemonth #love is terrifying #these two boys have been together for DECADES at this point and it FUCKING SHOWS #old married couple!steddie #stranger things

528 notes · View notes

firefly-party · 29 days

Text

"You clean up nicely, Stevie"

cw: mentioned blood and gore | mafia/mob AU | steddie pre-murderhusbands relationship big thanks to @dapandapod for beta reading and improving my poor attempt to write sth

Steve Harrington is good at his job. He's quick, he is thorough and most importantly, he doesn't ask questions.

There's nothing that could shock him anymore. He's seen everything.

Steve doesn’t mind severed limbs, gore, blood and body fluids, sometimes creatively mixed in more ways than are pleasant to imagine.

He's used to it, and cleaning it is what earns him a nice living as a crime scene cleaner.

Or just... scene cleaner maybe.

He doesn't work with the police or authorities. No, his specialty lies outside the law, which means he arrives before a mess becomes a nuisance. He cleans until there is not a speck of blood left, until there is nothing to indicate that something happened there. Was there ever a crime committed if there is no crime scene?

The money's amazing by the way. Of course cleaning the remains is a shit job but if you add the hush money on top, well, ain't that a nice bonus.

Again, Steve doesn't ask questions. He doesn't care. It's none of his business.

–

Eddie's shoes are squeaking in the puddle of blood he tried and failed to not step into.

He flips the business card around and squints at the hurried scribble of a phone number that was added right under the name "Stevie".

He trusts Chrissy's background check.

They were in a dire need of a new guy after the previous one decided to catch a bullet with his face after snooping one time too many.

Eddie looks up to the blood stained walls and ceiling and dials the number on the card.

"Hello?"

"Watergate Street 53", is all Eddie replies.

"How many?", Stevie asks.

"Uhm, five?"

"You sure? Might wanna go check again?", Stevie laughs into the phone.

Bitch.

"It's five." Eddie answers, annoyed.

There's a low whistle. "Alright, I'll be there in 20. Payment upfront. 50k."

Then the line goes dead. Eddie rolls his eyes, pockets his phone and looks around for a clean spot to sit while he waits.

–

It's exactly three hours and thirty two minutes later when Stevie empties his water bucket for the last time.

Eddie watches curiously as Stevie takes off the gloves, mask and safety glasses he arrived in. Eddie didn't mean to stick around but he's not trusting this new guy yet (he's also curious, sue him).

His gaze turns into a stare when the other man pulls down the zipper of his squeaky yellow biohazard suit, throwing back the hood and running a clean hand through his sweat soaked hair. He has a strong jaw and long, mole dotted neck that Eddie just wants to taste.

Eyes wide, Eddie’s not able to hold back the sharp intake of breath as he watches in horror the moment Stevie's eyes lock with his and -

Fuck.

Stevie's lips curl into a smirk.

Eddie is so fucked.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #stranger things #inspired by the game “Crime Scene Cleaner” that i saw on twitch yesterday #i got this weird idea and wasn't able to let it go #this is kei's first attempt at writing 🙈 holy shit #it's a one time thing. writing is too stressful for me xD

415 notes · View notes

disdaidal · 2 years

Photo

STRANGER THINGS 2x4

Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #harringroveedit #stranger things #strangerthingsedit #dailystrangerthings #tvstrangerthings #tvedit #netflixedit #billyhargroveedit #steveharringtonedit #tvfilmgifs #usersource #horrorgifs #gifs by disdaidal #my first edit in 4k. i like this coloring a lot #steve's moles and arms holy shiiiit~

9K notes · View notes

little-bumblebeeee · 7 months

Text

oh you write Steve and Robin as friends who only kinda tolerate each other and Robin has no interest in Steve's hobbies and they're only friends because they're traumabonded? Oh... that's cool... anyways MY Steve sends Robin his noods so she can rate them on a scale of 1-10 before he sends them to Eddie

#stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #steddie #implied steddie #robin buckley #platonic stobin #pwacp #codependent stobin #maya hawke #My little gremlins #i love them #she always says ew but the ew would be much worse if it was actually ew #meaning “ew” is “good to send👍” and “EW HOLY SHIT STEVE WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT AJJSUWHSGWUAJAJ” is just that #what the actual fuck

600 notes · View notes

thestobingirlie · 7 months

Text

stobin’s lavender wedding is beautiful and full of tears and love. (it’s a late spring wedding, erica is a bridesmaid, dustin is the best man. he and steve have matching coloured ties, and robin wears an incredible 80s puffy wedding dress). robin’s dad sobs walking her down the aisle, steve’s crying before he even gets to vows, robin starts crying during the vows, and there’s no way dustin’s getting through his speech without tears, let alone the rest of the wedding.

they give each other a little peck, their vows are heartfelt, and from that day they call each other husband and wife. because yeah, it’s not sexual, but that doesn’t matter!! they love each other. they’ve chosen to get married, not just for tax benefits, but because they want to stay at each other’s side for the rest of their lives!! they’re still dedicating their lives to one another. their love being platonic doesn’t make it any less real than anyone else’s.

#don’t get me wrong. i appreciate all lavender married stobin content. but it’s just sad that it’s consistently turned into joke #and they get divorced the second they can marry the person they “actually wanted to marry’’#they’re each others most important person! they wouldn’t get a divorce once they marry #don’t get me wrong. they’re definitely giggling at some point during the wedding. i mean. holy shit they’re married lmao #but that doesn’t mean the whole thing is just one big joke #i guess i just don’t think stobin would only get married to be the others beard. which is why i don’t see them ditching each other #the second they can #stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #my post

430 notes · View notes

plistommy · 29 days

Text

BABIEST BABYGIRL

#PLEASEE HOLY SHIT #YES THAT HAND ON HIS WAIST #he is my love okay I love him so much #joe <3 #joe keery #steve harrington #stranger things

141 notes · View notes

steddie-there · 1 year

Text

It Sure Felt Nice When He Was Holding My Hand

Steve had finally managed to escape.

His mom was holding one of her parties again, a "summer soiree" as she called it, so she'd dressed him in pressed khakis and a butter yellow button-down shirt and "Oh the cutest little blue bow tie, Steven, don't you just look darling? Now come say hi to mommy's friends."

He hated bow ties. He always felt like he was suffocating with one around his neck.

He hated his mom's parties. They made him feel like he was suffocating, too.

So the second he saw a chance to leave, he took it. One of their neighbors had walked in with her new baby and his mother made a big production of cooing over the little girl; Steve rolled his eyes - she hated babies, Steve knew, because she always told him how messy babies were and how much she'd hated cleaning the messes he made as a baby. But, not one to waste an opportunity, the moment she looked the other way, he had raced out the back door into the woods, running as fast as his little eight year old legs could go. He ripped the bow tie off and dropped it in the yard behind him as he crossed into the line of trees.

Which brought him to now. Wandering in the woods, farther than he ever had before. He could hear the burble of a creek ahead, and it drew him on like a moth to a flame. He wanted to splash around in the water and mud, splatter it all over his pristine clothes, even though he would get in trouble for it later. He would already be in trouble for running off, what was a few more minutes added to the lecture?

But at the edge of the trees, he stopped short. Someone was already there, kneeling next to a little rowboat bobbing in the water.

Steve couldn't see their face, just that they were wearing faded jeans and big boots with the laces undone and an old two-sizes too big blue flannel shirt and they had dark brown curls just grazing the edges of their shoulders. He watched for a moment as they seemed to lay something into the boat. Tilted his head, trying to see what it was.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked, breaking the quiet murmur of the woods.

The person whirled around, hands coming up defensively, flowers scattering over the ground, and now Steve could see it was a boy, probably about his age. He had the biggest brown eyes Steve had ever seen. Right now, they were opened wide, startled at Steve's sudden appearance.

"Sorry!" he apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

The other boy's shoulders dropped as he relaxed. "It's okay, just didn't think anyone else was out here," he told Steve, sending him a quick smile. Something about it made Steve want to smile back.

For a moment they just looked at each other.

"So, what are you doing?" Steve asked again, trying to peer around the other boy to the boat.

The boy glanced behind him, then turned back to Steve and his grin turned mischievous. "I'm having my funeral," he announced.

Steve just blinked at him. "Your... your funeral?" he asked, baffled. "But you're -"

"Dead," the boy assured him with a solemn nod.

Steve giggled and the other boy looked pleased at his reaction.

"Wanna help me pick more flowers?" he asked and Steve nodded, dropping to his knees, not caring about the grass stains he would surely now have on his pants, and gathering the little yellow blooms into his hands.

They worked in silence for awhile, until Steve asked, "So why are you having your funeral in a boat instead of being buried?" He was pretty sure most funerals involved graves and dirt, not boats and flowers.

"For the symbolism!" the boy declared, throwing his arms wide. Steve scrunched his nose, not sure what he meant by that. The boy peered at him from the corner of his eye, then whispered, "I don't really know what that means, but it sounded important."

Steve giggled again. "You're weird," he said.

Despite the fondness in his tone, those big brown eyes seemed to shutter and grow dim, the other boy shrinking into himself at Steve's words. Hastily, he assured him, "Not, like, bad weird. Good weird. Like, cool weird. Fun weird."

That earned him a wide grin and a shoulder bump.

"So how did you die?" Steve asked, leaning back on his hands and watching as the boy artfully placed both their bunches of flowers around the pillow already inside the boat.

"Carrots," the boy said seriously.

"Carrots???"

"Carrots," he nodded. "They're evil. And my wicked uncle made me eat them for lunch. So I died." He shrugged, as if dying from carrot ingestion was just a casual, every day experience.

Steve bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing again, mimicking the other boy's solemnity. "Ah, I see."

They both glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes, bursting into snickers when their eyes met.

"Okay," the boy said, standing and dusting off his knees, not that it did much for the grass and mud clinging to the denim. "Hold the boat while I get in."

Steve moved to kneel on the muddy creek bank, grabbing the side of the rowboat and keeping it steady while his new friend stepped in and settled down with his head on the pillow. The boat rocked a little as he did, water splashing up onto Steve's shirt, but he ignored it, not letting go until the other boy had stopped moving. He sat back and brushed his hands off.

"Now what?" he whispered after a moment of silence.

"Now... I guess we sit and be sad?" the boy answered, sounding unsure and giggling quietly. He flung a hand up to his forehead dramatically, declaring, "Alas, poor me, we knew me well!" Then he wrapped his hands around a flower and laid them on his chest with his eyes closed.

Steve laughed at the dramatics, then pulled his knees up to his chest and, also closing his eyes, sat quietly for a while. He listened to the wind in the trees, to the birds chirping around them, to the bubble and splash of the water flowing around the boat.

Steve opened his eyes and stared down at the boy in the boat. His curls were spread over the flowers, eyes closed, hands clasped on his chest, and Steve sighed faux-mournfully. "I wish you weren't dead. You're funny."

The boy pursed his lips, considering. "I could, maybe, be brought back to life. If I got a kiss from a handsome prince." He cracked an eyelid open, peering at Steve. "That's you, by the way," he whispered loudly.

Steve giggled yet again. "Me? A handsome prince?"

The boy nodded, some of the flowers tangling in his curls as he jostled them. "The handsomest," he said, before closing his eyes again.

Steve considered him for a moment. He looked at the creek at his feet, then down at his not-so-clean-anymore clothes, then shrugged and stepped into the water to stand next to the boat, feeling it rise to about his waist. Resting his hands on the side of the boat, he leaned over, bringing his face very close to the other boy's. For a second, he just stopped there, feeling the other boy's breath hit his cheek.

Then he kissed him on the nose.

The other boy laughed aloud, a ringing, joyful sound that Steve thought might just be the best thing he'd ever heard. His eyes popped open and he stared at Steve, eyes sparkling, dimples framing his grin.

Steve grinned back. "So. Did it work? Are you alive again?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah," his friend answered, "Definitely." He bit his lip and seemed to be thinking about something.

Steve waited.

"You wanna get in the boat, too?" the boy finally asked and Steve was clambering inside before he even finished his question. His movements rocked the boat from side to side and they both laughed as they held on and settled next to each other, staring up at the clouds.

Steve tried to concentrate on the cloudy pictures the boy next to him was pointing out in the sky. But he could feel a hand brushing against his own and he wondered what it would feel like to hold it. He had only ever held his mom's hand to cross the street and Carol's while they ran away from Tommy when they played tag at school. Maybe it would be different, holding a boy's hand. There was only one way to find out.

He wrapped his fingers around the other boy's.

The boy paused his detailed description of a dragon he could see in the clouds, turning his head to look at Steve. Then he smiled, a small, secret smile that felt like it was just for Steve. Steve smiled back. Tangling their fingers more tightly together, they both looked back up at the sky.

Steve wasn't sure how long they lay there, talking about the clouds and the trees and their favorite places in Hawkins, but when the sun started to set, he sighed.

"I have to go home now."

The other boy nodded. "Yeah, I should go, too. My uncle is probably worried about me."

Steve grinned at him. "Not such a wicked uncle, after all?"

The boy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Nah, he's pretty great, actually. Aside from making me eat carrots."

He said the last word so viciously that Steve couldn't help his laughter.

"He even said he'd start teaching me to play guitar tonight!"

"That's so cool!" Steve said. Decided not to say that all he'd get when he got home was a lecture.

The boy climbed out of the boat first, then turned to help Steve. For a moment, they just stood silently, smiling at each other. "Well, I'll see you around!" the boy says brightly, starting to walk down the creek, pulling the boat along with a rope.

"Yeah, see you," Steve answered, turning to his path home. He got a few steps away before he realized something and ran back to the clearing by the creek. "Hey, wait, what's your na - " he started to ask, but the boy had already disappeared into the trees. Steve sighed and walked away with his hands shoved into his pockets.

That night, Steve lay in bed, ears still ringing from the very loud thirty minute lecture his dad had given him when he showed up, muddy and grass stained and an hour late for dinner. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if that afternoon had maybe been a dream. But in his mind's eye, he could see the clouds drifting past and he swore he could still feel the other boy's fingers tangled with his own. He closed his eyes and smiled. He knew he'd spend the rest of the summer locked indoors, his dad had promised that; knew if he even so much as glanced at the woods, he'd get another lecture. But it was all worth it, he decided, as he carefully tucked the memory of that afternoon and the boy with the big brown eyes and curly hair away into a safe corner of his mind.

In the fall, he looked for his friend at school, but only succeeded in meeting a girl a year younger than him, Nancy, when he mistook her brown curls for the ones he was looking for.

By the time middle school rolled around, that afternoon at the creek had been shoved so far to the back of his memory that he didn't even look twice at the strange new kid with the buzz cut, no matter how familiar his brown eyes looked from across the cafeteria.

And then high school and the Upside Down and new friends and new terrors and a morning at work interrupted by two of his munchkins desperate to prove a friend's innocence.

Which is how he found himself staring into the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen for the first time in over a decade.

"Carrots!" Steve all but shouted as the shock of recognition began to wear off, heedless of the sharp glass at his throat. Eddie flinched back as the others stared in confused silence.

"What?" Eddie asked, baffled.

"You died because your uncle made you eat carrots. You had a funeral in a rowboat and - "

Eddie's wide brown eyes went impossibly wider at Steve's words. He cut Steve off, lowering the bottle as a shy grin crept over his face, warring with the terror still present in his stance. "And a handsome prince brought me back to life."

"It is you!" Steve beamed. Eddie beamed back, his shoulders relaxing, and Steve felt the insane urge to kiss the tip of his nose just as he had all those years ago.

The moment was interrupted by Dustin clearing his throat. "Um... what the fuck, Steve?"

Steve and Eddie laughed. "It's a long story," Steve said. Then he sobered. "And we have more pressing problems." He looked at Eddie, saw the way he curled back in on himself. Put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to sit down. "Eddie, what's going on?"

Eddie looked up at him with a gaze so haunted Steve just wanted to pull him into his arms. Settled for soothingly rubbing his shoulder.

"You won't believe me," Eddie said brokenly.

"Try us," Max told him. Steve squeezed his shoulder, and Eddie took a deep breath and started talking.

--..--..--..--..--

Later, after bats and battle, blood and bandages, after mouth-to-mouth and "I swear to God, Munson, if you die on me I will resurrect you and kill you again myself, don't think I won't," they're in a hospital room. It's just them, the others having gone home to sleep an hour ago. But Steve can't bring himself to leave. Can't quite bring himself to tangle his fingers with Eddie's where they rest on the hospital bed, either, although he desperately wants to.

"You know, that's the second time you've kissed me back to life, Stevie. Gonna make a habit of it?" Eddie jokes.

Steve looks up at him, breath catching when their eyes meet. Despite the lighthearted tone, Eddie's gaze is serious. Warm. Those wide, wide eyes locked on Steve intently.

It makes Steve feel brave. He laughs a little. "Actually," he says, "I was kinda hoping I could kiss you sometime when you're not dead."

Eddie's eyes widen even further before he ducks his head shyly, looks up at Steve from under his lashes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve says, finally tangling their fingers together.

And there's that secret smile Eddie has, the one that seems like it's only for Steve. "I think I'd like that," he says.

"Good," Steve whispers and leans in.

--..--..--..--..--

also on ao3!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #inspired by the song If I Die Young #holy crap this got away from me 😅#I was just listening to the song the other day #and had this vision of little eddie surrounded by flowers in a boat and little steve leaning down to kiss his nose #2400 words later 😅#anyway hope y'all like #also yes the tense change at the end was purposeful #the majority is a story that already happened. a memory #the last part is a more immediate present thing still occurring #or at least thats how im justifying it 😅

1K notes · View notes

trensu · 26 days

Text

Heyyy, long time no post, huh? I'm dropping another chunk of stasis in darkness for you guys! And I wanted to remind people that these posts are basically rough drafts. The final product will hopefully be more polished but in the meantime please enjoy!

After Steve convinced the old man he meant no harm, he’d been allowed into the home. The Lord of Night hadn’t been super specific about the purpose of his quest, only that Steve had to bring him to Wayne Munson. Steve discreetly looked around the home as he entered it. The old man was obviously unwell and had been for a while, given the state of the house. Steve had the creeping suspicion that the time limit the Lord of Night mentioned was linked to the man’s health.

“What are you doing?” Wayne Munson asked suspiciously once he had returned to the kitchen with Steve in tow. He had sat heavily in one of the old worn chairs at the table but Steve, instead of joining him, began to clear the table on impulse. Steve halted awkwardly.

“This ain’t your house, boy,” Wayne said with a scowl. “I can take care of myself.”

Steve did his very best not to look at the scattered mess in the kitchen or living room. It was not the mess of a dirty, careless person. It was the mess of someone tired and overwhelmed. It was the mess of someone in pain who was too proud to ask for help. Steve took in Wayne Munson’s watery eyes, wan skin, and the clothes that were plain things, tattered from use, but mostly stain-free. Steve quickly added all these details and came up with a plan of attack. He set the plate back down.

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed easily. “I’m aware, but I serve the Lord of Night and he sent me to you specifically. In our god’s name, I must assist you in any way I can.”

Wayne’s expression wavered. Steve pushed again. He lowered his gaze in a slightly embarrassed manner, letting a note of uncertainty color his words.

“I don’t know what else to do until nightfall,” Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I don’t want him to think I’ve neglected you.”

“What happens at nightfall?” Wayne asked.

“It’s when the Lord of Night wants to see you,” Steve said. Wayne blinked.

“Me? He wants to see me?”

“Yeah! So, if you could please let me,” Steve said, putting on his most endearing smile, “I’d like to take care of you until then. You know, make sure you’re comfortable and get the place ready for a divine visit. If it’s not too much trouble, sir?”

“Uh, no, that should be fine. Is…is there anything I should do?” Wayne asked dazedly.

“Not really. All I know is he really wants to see you tonight. Oh, maybe you’d like to rest until then? A nap, so you’re not drowsy when he arrives.”

Wayne nods, still in shock at the news. He didn’t protest when Steve helped him out of the chair and let him lean his weight on him as they navigated to the bedroom. Wayne sat on the bed as Steve drew curtains closed over the room’s single window. The curtains were thick enough to dim the sun to a pale yellow glow.

“I didn’t know there was anyone else who followed him,” Wayne said as he lay himself down over the covers.

"He told me you’re the only one left, besides me,” Steve told him. “And I only discovered him a month ago by accident.”

“By accident?” Wayne asked with a wry grin.

“My friends found a holy text when we were researching other gods. It was the only one of his in the city's whole library. Then we had a hell of a time trying to find his last shrine. When I finally found it, it was falling apart. He’s been forgotten,” Steve said. At Wayne’s troubled expression, he hurriedly added, “But now that I’ve pledged myself to him, I’m going to make sure people know him again.”

Wayne did not appear convinced, but he finally settled to rest after Steve promised to wake him before sunset. Steve took the opportunity to clean. He hadn’t been lying to Wayne when he said he wasn’t sure what to do until nightfall. It didn’t help that Steve also liked to keep himself busy. Being idle made him itch.

The house was small. Aside from Wayne's bedroom, there was only a cramped kitchen and a modest living room. From the small window of the backdoor, Steve could see a short, worn path to an outhouse.

Given the size of the house, though there was a mess everywhere, it didn’t take Steve very long to clean it all. When it was done to his satisfaction, there were still a few hours left until sunset so he wandered outside. The porch railing was covered with broad green leaves from intertwining vines but Steve left that alone when he saw the small garden nearby. It was full of ripe vegetables that Steve assumed Wayne had been unable to pick himself given his condition.

By the time Steve had picked the vegetables, pulled the weeds, and watered the garden, the sun hung low in the horizon. He cleaned himself up the best he could in the kitchen sink and took one of the chairs from the table to the bedroom before waking Wayne.

He told Wayne what he accomplished during Wayne’s repose. While Wayne expressed his gratitude politely enough, it was still apparent to Steve that the old man was irritated at having needed the assistance at all. To keep Wayne from dwelling on that, as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, he coaxed Wayne into conversation.

“Can I ask, uh, how you–I mean, how did you know? How did you know the Lord of Night existed?"

Wayne laughed at Steve’s befuddled tone. The laugh turned into a coughing fit. Steve quickly fetched him a glass of water and put it on the bedside table after Wayne had a drink.

“My family’s a bunch of no-good criminals,” Wayne croaked. “Were. It’s only me now. But before, each generation of Munsons took it up. Like a family tradition.”

“Criminals?” asked Steve cautiously.

“Thieves and con men. Some ladies of the night, if you catch my meaning. They knew of our Lord of Night and passed the knowledge down,” Wayne sighed sadly. “The life of a criminal ain’t what you call stable. We lost bits and pieces of him with every generation. Like his name. No one’s known his name for a very long time. Is that why he wants to see me? Did I fail him?”

There was genuine distress in Wayne’s question so Steve hid his disappointment. He had hoped the Lord of Night’s last worshiper would at least have a clue about where to start the search for the lost name. He focused, instead, on reassuring the old man.

“I don’t know why he wants to see you, but he wasn’t angry when he sent me. He sounded excited.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Wayne said uncertainly.

“Definitely,” Steve assured. Before Wayne could sink into his gloom again, Steve said, “I know you said you’ve lost some knowledge, but do you know if the Lord of Night has any prayers? I haven’t…I mean, I’ve tried to worship him but I don’t think I can do it right without a prayer. I’m kind of new at all this.”

“My ma used to say our Lord didn’t have patience for formalities,” Wayne said, brow furrowed. “They bored him so he only had a few official prayers. There was one where we’d thank him for any dreams he gave us. I think there was another one that asked for dreams to bring inspiration or something of that sort. I don’t really remember those–ma would be boxing my ears for that if she was still around. I remember the one for protection, since we used that one a lot. It goes:

Lord of Night, Guide us through all phases Of the moon; May the dark be free of All dangers, While your many stars burn.

Wayne’s voice cracked into a coughing fit near the end. Steve hurriedly offered him water again once Wayne had caught it again. Wayne took a few mouthfuls and repeated the prayer again so Steve could learn it. It took a few tries, but Wayne was patient and by the end of it, Steve had it memorized.

“Is that the only one?” Steve asked, hoping to learn more. Wayne grimaced.

“It’s the only one I really remember. The Lord of Night prefers stories. My ma would tell us the best bedtime stories. Said they were for our god as much as for me and my brother. I was never good at coming up with new stories, so I retell my favorites or tell our Lord about my days and give him a little offering.”

Steve wasn't much of a story teller. He supposed he could do as Wayne did until he met up with Robin and Dustin again. They constantly chatted about books they’d read. Steve couldn’t help but notice how, once again, his friends seemed a better fit for his god than he was; all Steve could give his god was his shield and sword. It was discouraging. He had to figure out a way to make up for it somehow.

“What kind of offerings?” Steve asked.

He wanted to give his god more; he wanted to give the Lord of Night something he’d actually like. It wasn’t lost on him that the Lord of Night took him under duress. Who else would’ve been able to complete this quest?

“When I was young, it was horse shoes,” Wayne chuckled at Steve’s confusion. “Thieves are supposed to give him a part of their loot but my ma and pa were horse thieves. They got horseshoes and would leave one for each horse they stole, tied with a braid made of the stolen horse’s mane.”

“You stole horses?” Steve said, unable to fight off a grin as he remembered the conversation he had with the Lord of Night about it.

“Me and my brother, before he passed,” Wayne said with a weak nod.

The sky had darkened by now. Steve pulled the stone out of his satchel. He carefully unwrapped it from the cloth and set it gently on the bedside table next to the glass of water. Wayne eyed it quizzically.

“It’s from his shrine,” Steve explained. Without any further fussing, Steve stood up and went to the door.

“Don’t leave,” the Lord of Night said.

Steve turned to see the god, hooded in his cloak of constellations, sitting in the chair Steve had vacated. The Lord of Night had not even glanced Steve's way when he spoke to him. The god’s attention rested solely on Wayne.

Steve hadn’t seen or spoken to the Lord of Night since he’d been accepted as his holy warrior. The god had needed to conserve his energy, he explained to Steve, so that Steve could complete his quest. The god’s cloak was as mesmerizing as the first time. However, this far from the shrine, the god did not look as solid as he had during the nights he spent with Steve.

“I wanted to give you two some privacy,” Steve said softly.

“I think Wayne would appreciate not being alone,” the Lord of Night said.

The old man stared at the god unblinkingly. Wayne’s expression was one of awe and fear, so Steve did as he was told and stayed in the room though he chose to lean on the wall furthest from the pair. He was still close to them in the tiny bedroom, but it provided the pretense of privacy.

“My Lord?” Wayne’s voice was barely audible.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said.

#trensu tells stories #steddie #stasis in darkness #stranger things #i'm gonna be honest #i absolutely have no idea how prayers are structured and i've got like zero experience in poetry #i do NOT like how the prayer turned out but #i did my best okay?#steve is so eager to use holy words #i had to give him SOMETHING #also #i'm starting to think i should've been like numbering these posts or something #but it's not like they're actual chapters or have a consistent length yknow?#so idk

111 notes · View notes

chirpsythismorning · 10 months

Text

S3 is underrated bc it comes off so meaningless the entire time, when in reality it’s the opposite. The jokes in particular were top notch and it’s because most of them went over everyone’s heads. Like, do people even know that they hinted at Robin being lesbian right at the start of s3???

#byler #stranger things #queer-coding #not Steve turning off Robin so much the entire city shuts down 😭#peak comedy #s3 was so camp #like everyone thinks of it as filler #and it is #the duffers themsleves admitted s3 was them playing in the sandbox #but I think one pro to that #is they can hide really unhinged meanings beneath the surface #and get away with it!#like imagine having dozens of deeper references/meanings only for your audience to say it was boring and nothing happened??…#I would be chilling #knowing that when the story is complete with 5 parts #they’re gonna look back and go #holy shit #these bitches are gay!!

373 notes · View notes

deadtothebones · 5 months

Text

He should shut him up with a kiss

Original post x

#Steve: god when is he going to shut up can't he see i only got eyes for him and his delicious lips?? I don't fucking care about Nancy!!#Eddie: holy shit his titts are so big I better talk about Nancy to scare the gay thoughts away #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #incorrect quotes #incorrect steddie #stranger things #eddiedit #joseph quinn #joe keery #mine #eddie munson edit #steve harrington edit

189 notes · View notes

sunflowersand-bees · 1 year

Text

hey just thinking about the fact that no one has told steve harrington that they loved him and meant it

#steve harrington #holy shit this boy gives me emotions #riv rambles #steddie #stoncy #stonathan #stancy #someone should really change this #platonic stobin #stobin #NOT ROMANTIC STOBIN #stranger things #st

538 notes · View notes

robertdowneyjjr · 7 months

Text

a soulmates au where your words only show up after you’ve met your soulmate. sort of like an insurance policy, you know, so you’re not left wondering whether every other person you meet is the one if your words are too generic.

in this universe, captain america has been recovered and active for several years now. he runs missions and saves the world with his ragtag team of superheroes formed by SHIELD. steve's become a celebrity, which he doesn't love, but it's something he learns to live with because that's life for public figures in the 21st century.

tony never became iron man because he walked away from his father's legacy the second he turned 18. he and howard are still working on their relationship, but maria couldn't be prouder and tells tony so everyday. he built his own company from the ground up and it's thriving under his leadership. he's only marginally famous these days and he tries his best to stay out of the limelight, guarding his private life as much as possible. that's how it's been for twenty years and he's happy.

they meet on a day when steve is tired, irritable and angry. he's just returned from a mission where two of his teammates were injured because of the faulty information they received. he goes out on a walk to let off some steam and he's just slipping his phone back into his pocket after rejecting fury's fifth call for a debrief when he slams right into tony.

tony was having a good day. he'd just sent out a new set of designs and decided to reward himself for it. he goes and gets himself a fresh, delicious, life-affirming cup of coffee and is just stepping out of the cafe with aforementioned cup when a walking brick wall comes out of nowhere.

good news is, tony had ordered a cold brew. once every few weeks that's just what he's in the mood for and it had been one of those days. bad news is, instead of drinking it he is now wearing it.

sticky and cold and more than a little shocked, tony barely has time to recover and figure out what happened when steve starts tearing into him.

“god damn it, watch where the fuck you’re going! that could have spilled all over me! idiot!” steve yells at tony. and on a normal day, he’d be apologetic and he’d never curse like this at a stranger. but he really didn’t need yet another thing to go wrong today and he’s on a short fuse.

maybe later, when he’s calmed down, he’ll think back on the cute man with the giant brown eyes staring at him in disbelief and start beating himself up over how he behaved.

at the moment, all tony can do is look at steve’s pristine white t-shirt that somehow has not a single drop of coffee on it, then look back down at his own chest. he has no words except, “wow. you’re a fucking asshole.” and he just turns around and walks away.

tony gets home and strips off for a rinse before he gets ready for his flight to london for a week of meetings. all the while he can’t help but think that angry blond man looked vaguely familiar and he can’t place where he knows him from. he doesn’t notice the new string of words tattooed down the side of his thigh until he’s in his hotel room half a day later.

meanwhile, steve gets home after his walk, after he’s checked on his teammates, after sitting with fury for three long hours to debrief, and finally washes the day off of him. before he gets into the shower, he notices something different about his reflection.

along his left bicep are the words, wow. you’re a fucking asshole.

he thinks back on the cute man with the big brown eyes and a chest full of coffee and wonders how in the hell he can fix this mess.

#maybe he uses his clout as a celebrity and makes a cryptic post on social media #with a picture of a coffee cup and a request for a second chance #and signs it off with ‘a fucking asshole’#maybe tony sees it and realizes his soulmate is captain america #the man his dad wouldn’t shut up about #and holy crap wouldn’t that be a strange conversation to have with his dad next time he’s home for dinner #even funnier maybe maria sees the post and sends it to the family group chat and she’s like ‘howard this is your friend?’#and that’s how tony finds out #or maybe steve goes whining to howard one day and happens to run into tony when he’s home visiting #so many possibilities #stevetony #stony #tony stark #steve rogers #stonyclunks soulmates au #kay writes things

244 notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 1 year

Text

Freaky Friday - A Stranger Things Story (Part 3)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Word Count: 12.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, Eddie and Steve (Enemies to Friends)

Summary: Eddie thinks that Steve has everything in life handed to him on a silver platter (including his new girlfriend who Eddie has a crush on). And Steve just can't believe that the kids look up to Eddie the Freak, or that he lives his life without giving a single fuck.

Must be nice. But you know what they say, the grass is always greener.

Warnings/Themes: AU with no Upside Down. Angst, body swapping, dark magic/alchemy, unrequited love, mutual pining, fatphobia (if you squint?), Babysitter Steve, unresolved feelings, manipulation/deception, Things That Require Communication (Too Bad There Isn't Any), Reader gets a nickname (Honey), no Y/N if I can help it, Masturbation, Fantasies/Wet Dreams, To Quote JQ "There Do Be Willies"

Note: Guys...ok I tried I really did. First off once again thanks to @ghost-proofbaby, @big-ope-vibes and @trashmouth-richie for being my sounding boards for some things in this chapter. And then because they have been SO amazing with their writing and their big-brainedness, this chapter is dedicated to @myosotisa and @blue-mossbird.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Before Eddie could react at all to Steve's appearance, Steve had launched himself off the bed, crossed the room, and pinned Eddie against the wall with an arm across his neck. The pressure was uncomfortable, but not enough to keep him from breathing or talking.

"How did you get in here?" Eddie questioned.

"It's my fucking house, Freak," Steve spat. "I know where the spare key is. Now, what the fuck did you do to me? To us. How the fuck did you do this?"

"Listen pal," Eddie grunted, trying to shove Steve off of him. Eddie wondered, fleetingly as he stared into his own rage-filled eyes, if he was actually that strong, or if it was just because Steve had better control of his strength. "I don't know what you think I could have done, but I was just as surprised as I'm sure you were when I woke up here this morning. In your fucking body."

"That's bullshit. You did this," Steve insisted. "You...did some satanic ritual—"

"Are you stupid? It's all a joke man," Eddie began. "I don't worship Satan, Hellfire's not a cult."

"Fuck you, you and your devil horns and latin chants during lunc—"

"I just played that shit up so my friends don't get beaten up by meathead jocks like you."

Fed up with being pushed around and accused Eddie went slack against the wall for a second, causing Steve's footing to falter, and with that he threw his whole weight against Steve, causing him to tumble back onto the floor. Eddie knelt over him, gritting his teeth, and fisted the front of his shirt.

"You think if I had some kind of say in my life, some kind of power to change it, I would still be stuck in a shithole like Hawkins?" Eddie sneered. "Stuck in that trailer, stuck being a student at Hawkins high for another day?"

"Except you're not stuck anymore," Steve retorted. "I am."

"Y-you think I would want to be stuck like this instead?" Eddie huffed. "King fucking Steve Harrington. Who has it all handed to him. What kind of life is that?"

"You didn't seem too miserable a few seconds ago," Steve pointed out.

Eddie let go of Steve and he dropped slightly, head bouncing slightly off the plush area rug.

Fucking Harrington can't even have hard enough floors to hurt.

Eddie stood to his full height and looked around the bedroom again—at Steve's desk and his lovingly filled-out calendar, at the plush bed, at the window that overlooked a swimming pool for fuck's sake—and wondered how fair it was that Steve could have anything he ever wanted, but never did.

What would you like me to say to that Steve? That you're right? That I would want your life? That you're an idiot and you don't deserve any of this? That I do instead?

"Where were you just now anyway?" Steve continued as he watched Eddie cross over to the window. "Take my car for a joyride or something? While I'm driving around your rusty old shitbox? Or...or—"

"Took your girl out for a date," Eddie interrupted and glanced back at Steve over his shoulder. "Or did you forget about her?"

"My gir—" Steve paused. "Do you mean...You took her out on our date?"

"I went through the motions today," Eddie explained. "Wake up in someone else's body, go to work at their job, take their girlfriend on the date they had planned."

"For someone who seems to have no idea how this happened," Steve grunted as he pushed himself off the floor. "You seem to know how to handle a situation like this pretty perfectly."

"How do you think I should have handled it? Driving around town screaming about spells and magic?"

Steve had the sense to look ashamed for a minute and Eddie smirked.

"What did you do today then, eh 'Eddie?'"

"I...I went to school," Steve started.

"Sounds like going through the motions to me."

"I went to find Henderson!"

"Wait a minute," Eddie turned to face Steve fully. "You told Henderson?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugged. "What was I supposed to do? He's part of your little band of misfits. Figured he might know some...counter spell and get me back in my body."

Eddie groaned and put his face in his hands.

Great, Dustin was going to actually think Eddie was the devil now.

"Did you tell anyone?" Steve asked dumbly.

"No because I'm not an absolute idiot," Eddie exclaimed, throwing his hands out. "Fuck, no wonder Buckley calls you a dingus."

"Well lah-di-dah, I'm sorry I don't have the mystical body switching handbook memorized like you do" Steve snarked and fell onto the bed, grabbing a pillow to hug to his body for comfort. "What would that even look like? A...a...pentagram with 'shut the fuck up' written in the middle in latin or something?"

Eddie froze.

A mystical body switching handbook.

A pentagram.

Or maybe a sigil?

"God, I can't even believe you went on my date for me. Did you even...how did you know I had reservations at the Club? Wait, is that what you wore? Jesus Ch—”

"Shut up!" Eddie interrupted. "Go back, what did you just say?"

"Uh....The Club?" Steve asked. "The...Country Club up in Marion? My dad plays golf there."

"No before that, you said—" Eddie stopped. "Wait, you were gonna take her for dinner at the Golf Club? Kind of a douche move there, Harrington. Even for you."

"Well where did you take her then?"

"Doesn't matter," Eddie dismissed, smugly filing away the fact that his idea for a date was better than Steve's. Country Club. "You said...a pentagram."

"Yeah? What about it?" Steve asked. When Eddie hesitated to answer, Steve grew concerned. "Please don't tell me you drew a pentagram and asked for...I don't know, better hair or something and now we're stuck like this."

Eddie ignored the dig at his hair.

"Not...exactly."

"Oh!" Mrs. Henderson looked surprised when she opened the door to find both "Steve" and "Eddie" on her doorstep. "What a surprise!"

"Hey, Mrs. H," "Steve" greeted with a smile, causing "Eddie" to roll his eyes. "Is Dustin here?"

"He is. With Will and Lucas. Since someone decided to cancel Hellfire Club," she glared at "Eddie" good-naturedly. "I can go get him for you; come on in. Did you boys have dinner? You hungry? I have plenty of leftover tater tot casserole."

"No thank you," they answered in tandem and crossed through into the living room and took a seat on the couch.

As she made her way back towards Dustin's room, the boys started to bicker.

"Why would you cancel Hellfire? I never cancel. Even when I'm sick."

"I’m sorry was this not a pressing matter? Your little club can’t skip one week?”

Mews jumped up and settled in "Eddie's" lap and Steve froze as she began purring.

Mews was never really a fan of Steve's to begin with, the few times Steve had come over to spend time with Dustin and the kids. It was mutual indifference, actually. She mostly stayed cuddled up in Mrs. Henderson's arms, but when she wasn't they gave one another distance. Steve had no interest in getting near the cat, and the cat had no interest in getting near Steve.

So for her to be comfortable and purring in "Eddie's" lap...it made Steve a little nervous. What if she bit him or clawed him or—

"Well, aren't you gonna give her pets Harrington?" Eddie reached over and started scratching between her ears.

"Uh...I'm not an animal person," Steve explained and Eddie gave him a dull look. "What if it scratches me?"

"Are you kidding?" Eddie scoffed. "First, she's literally the cuddliest cat in the world. Second, she's a she, not an it. And third, if she scratches you, technically she'd scratch me and I've already been scratched several times when I fed the baby raccoons at Forest Hills."

"The—Why are you feeding raccoons?" Steve exclaimed. "They're wild animals, they're feral."

"They're babies, they shouldn't be eating trash. Which reminds me, as long as we're stuck like this, you need to leave a can or two of tuna out for the stray cats once in a while."

Steve watched Eddie for a moment, waiting for the laughter to start or a punchline to come out of his mouth. And it never did.

"What is wrong with yo—"

"Eddie! Steve!" the boys jumped at Dustin and his mother's appearance. Dustin had wide eyes and a strained smile. "What a surprise! Eddie, how was detention?"

Eddie turned back to look at Steve with raised eyebrows and a manic grin.

"Detention?" Eddie asked. "When did this happen?"

"I was late to class. You know, like I am every day." Steve answered, taking a cheap dig at Eddie for putting him on the spot.

"Anyway!" Dustin began loudly. "Why don't you guys come on back. And we can discuss that surprise campaign for Mike's birthday."

Eddie picked Mews off Steve's lap and handed her back to Mrs. Henderson with another last little chin scratch, and then he and Steve followed Dustin back to his room where, indeed, Lucas and Will were waiting.

"Alright dweebs, get lost," Steve announced.

"No way, we're not leaving until we figure this whole body switching thing out," Lucas scoffed.

"You told them too?" Eddie turned to Steve and Steve held his hands up defensively.

"No," Dustin interjected. "I did. I needed Will the Wise's brain and Sinclair the Soldier's tenacity if I was gonna solve this."

"What about Wheeler?" Eddie asked.

The boys sheepishly looked at one another.

"Mike's not exactly the best at keeping secrets," Will began hesitantly. "And if Nancy found out...well..."

"And we do actually need to come up with some kind of surprise for his birthday," Lucas continued. "A quest to reverse a curse on two knights sounds pretty epic."

They all looked to Eddie for his input.

"Could be interesting," Eddie hummed and tilted his head back and forth in contemplation. "I might be inclined to give it a DM stamp of approval if we can actually figure this thing out."

The kids all cheered and started talking over one another, saying that they went to the Hawkins Public Library after school since Hellfire was canceled. They gathered several fantasy books and a folklore book, and when they asked about occultism at the reference desk, there was one book that had recently been checked out.

"Funny you should mention that," Steve piped up and pulled the faded red book out from where it was tucked into Eddie's jacket. "Eddie and I nearly tore apart his trailer trying to find it.

And they had.

After Eddie had dropped the news that he, indeed, might have been the cause of this switch—unintentionally—he and Steve headed to Forest Hills to find the book.

Steve honestly felt a little vindicated that it actually was Eddie who had done this to the two of them, but...he admitted that he might have let all of the mania about Eddie and Hellfire Club fuel his anger.

But as he stood off to the side and watched the boys flip through the pages with Eddie as Eddie regaled them with his campaign ideas and the sigil that had caught his eye, Steve couldn't help but feel that bitter vile jealousy begin to bubble up again.

How long ago was it that he was taking them to the junkyard to ride their bikes and find scraps and bits and pieces for them to use for their...LORPing...LARPing...

And it was fun, yeah, watching the little idiots get excited over hunks of discarded pipes they could use as staffs, and bent and dented garbage can lids they could use as shields.

But he had done all of those things in an effort to make Nancy see he was a good guy, and he had lost her. And he had kept doing those things because the kids were actually fun and like the younger siblings he had always wanted...and now they were arguing about the differences between Latin and Ancient Mycenaean with Eddie.

He just couldn't keep up.

So he took the route he always knew would keep him and his feelings safe: he lashed out.

"Alright, so," he put his hands on his hips." What's the verdict, how soon can we switch back? I don't want to be stuck smelling like weed for the rest of my life. Do you even wash your clothes, Munson?"

All four boys—well, 3 boys and one man—stared at Steve with wide, almost hurting eyes. And Steve realized...

Shit.

...he hadn't made fun of someone like that in front of the kids that way in a long time.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't," he sighed and collapsed into Dustin's desk chair. "It's just been a really long day guys. It isn't easy being Eddie."

"Oh?" Eddie scoffed. "You just realizing that now Harrington? After one day of being me? You have it so fucking easy that it takes one day of...what? Being pushed around or called a freak or driving an old van that is not a rusty old shitbox, by the way. One day without your big house and your notes from your mommy and your neatly pressed clothes and your cute girlfriend doting on you?"

"And what do you know about my life?" Steve argued. "You don't know half of the shit that I go through! And you don't even care. You go around without a care in the world. Everyone you think is your friend is either afraid of you or looking for your approval. I heard from Janie Miller that you offered to give her free weed one time if she flashed you her boobs. You don't care who you're hurting or insulting or shitting on unless it's fun for you."

It was a miracle Mrs. Henderson didn't come to see what the ruckus was about because it just went on. Enough that they started talking over one another. One dig after another, one way their lives were seemingly better or seemingly worse.

The kids tried to interrupt them but they just kept going.

And Steve's breathing got heavy and his throat got tight, his eyes stung with unshed tears as he thought about...

The way everyone left him. The way he was actually alone. The way his dad couldn't see how hard he sought his approval. The way his mom only did nice things for him anymore was because he knew her secrets. The way his high school friends only liked him because of his popularity. The way that Nancy Wheeler never actually liked him at all, just liked the way he made her feel. The way that the kids left him behind for the next cool older brother kind of guy that came along. The way he was sure even Robin only half-tolerated him.

And the more that he thought those thoughts, the more...the more Eddie's body felt like his. The more he could feel every hair follicle on his head, the way every breath rattled his chest a little bit, the way his ears rang a little bit constantly from the loud music he always blasted in his van.

It got to be so much that it was scary.

But he and Eddie kept on arguing, until someone had the good sense to stop them.

"SHUT UP!" Will yelled and everything went silent. The two older boys stared at Will and he shrunk a little bit under their gaze. "I, uh, I think I figured out what happened."

"Well?" Steve snarked.

"...well I don't know for sure..." Will replied hesitantly. "I don't take Latin with Lucas and Dustin. B-but this right here. Alterius Oculos. Another's eyes?"

He pointed to the inscription on the page Eddie had shown them, right above the sigil.

“Ok what about ‘another’s eyes?’” Eddie asked.

“You need to…see through another’s eyes maybe.” Lucas offered. “Not literally. Figuratively. Empathize with them? Ms. Kelly told me about that a few weeks ago. Put yourself in someone else’s shoes.”

“Except, it’s actually literal,” Dustin snapped his fingers. “Because you two are actually seeing through one another’s eyes and wearing each other’s shoes.”

“So I drew the sigil, went to bed and we switched bodies to see through each other’s eyes and…understand each other better?” Eddie huffed. “I wasn’t even thinking of Harrington when I drew it!”

“What were you thinking of?” Lucas questioned.

Eddie quietly picked at his fingernails, and Steve looked down at his own hands—at Eddie’s actual hands—and saw the ripped up skin and closely trimmed nails. Eddie was a nail biter.

Eddie Munson was a nail biter and he was nervous and he was…

“I was thinking that…nothing good ever happened to me. That…I needed to have a reality check or something,” Eddie shrugged.

…Eddie was a loser. He didn’t have it all figured out. He struggled with things…beyond Steve’s understanding. Even because of Steve sometimes.

“Hey, uh,” Steve cut in. “It’s not like I did anything to help things last night.”

“What do you mean?” Will asked.

“I, uh, might have charged you extra for your movie rental just to get you out of my hair for a while.”

“I knew it!” Eddie exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. “I knew you were pulling that shit on purpose.”

“Can you fucking blame me, have you ever met yourself?” Steve asked.

“Well, I certainly can say I have now,” Eddie grumbled. “So how do we fix this? How do we switch back?”

The younger boys all shared another nervous look.

“I guess…” Will began. “Do more things to understand each other. Just…do whatever the other would do…live each other’s lives.”

“For how long? Forever?” Steve scoffed.

“Lucas and I can translate the rest of this page,” Dustin offered.

“I’m sorry, Lucas and who?” Lucas asked. “You’re barely passing Latin.”

“Ok Lucas can translate the page while Will and I can do my best to help ‘Eddie’ navigate Hellfire Club.” Dustin held his hands out as though he was weighing his options. “And ‘Steve’ can just…not fuck up real Steve’s life. Or real Eddie’s life for that matter!”

“Can’t fuck up something that’s at Rock Bottom,” Steve grumbled.

“And maybe you two could work on understanding each other in the mean time?” Lucas asked.

Steve and Eddie stared at one another in a way that felt, to Steve at least, like a challenge. They nodded and Steve felt the unspoken “let the best man win” ring through the air.

Otherwise they were both gonna lose.

Eddie threw his head back with laughter.

"Swing and a miss," he called as you swung the putter at the little purple golf ball, over and over, without actually hitting it. "Honey, are you just letting me win? There's no way you can be so bad at this."

"We can't all be professional mini golfers," you laughed at him.

"Excuse me, that is 'mini golf champion,'" Eddie boasted. "They have my face in the Hall of Fame."

"Oh I didn't know I was in the presence of a celebrity," you bowed to him. "Maybe you could take some pity on a poor peasant and help me get this shot please."

"I supposed I could give you some pointers," he sighed dramatically and sidled up behind you. He wrapped his arms comfortably around you and his hands found yours on the putter. When he tried to get your body into position to make the shot, you pressed yourself back against him and rested your head on his shoulder a bit. "Hmmm, what is this funny business, honey? Trying to distract me?"

You wiggled your shoulders and relaxed, leaning your body further into his, emphasizing the softness of you against the hardness of him.

And it was only getting harder by the second.

"Maybe I'm trying to win?" you turned your head to look at him, breath fanning against his jaw.

"Considering I've made par on every hole so far—"

"I'm not talking about golf anymore Eddie," you muttered, shaking your hands out from below his on the putter so you could turn within his embrace and cup his face softly...reverently. "I...you know I've always had a huge crush on you."

"Honey, why do you have to tell me such sweet things?" Eddie asked. "It's our first date, I'm trying to be a gentleman. We're in public."

"And if we weren't in public?" You tilted your face closer to his, lips practically brushing against his. "Would you be a gentleman then?"

"Do you want me to be?" he asked breathlessly.

He dropped the putter and grabbed at your waist as he crushed his mouth to yours. It was a hungry sort of kiss, like he was a man starved. And when the joyous moan that came from you was as sweet as honey, Eddie resolved that you were, indeed, going to give him a sweet tooth.

Eddie's hands slid easily across the smooth surface of your shiny taffeta dress as he pulled you closer, causing it to rustle as it crinkled under his touch. It got harder to think as he savored your softness but he dreamed of what it would be like to be surrounded by all of you. To be consumed, and suffocated, and smothered by you.

He could have it...he could have you...

You pulled away momentarily and stared up into his eyes, yours glassy with want and adoration, something that he only ever hoped you would look at him with.

"Do you wanna answer the phone?" you muttered.

"W-what?"

"Steven are you up?" There was a knock on the bedroom door and Eddie woke with a start. He groggily looked around the room, at the plaid wallpaper and the tidy belongings.

Damn. The thing that he hoped was a dream was real, and the thing he hoped was real was only a dream.

"There's someone calling for you. Did you wanna answer?" Mrs. Harrington said through the door.

"Y-yeah, uh," Eddie called out and cleared his throat. "M-mom." The word was unfamiliar on his tongue, in his brain. Like a language that hadn't been practiced in quite some time.

He hoped, at the very least, Steve didn't call her "mommy."

He had been well on his way to an early-riser if he hadn't been woken up, but nothing was a bigger boner-killer than thinking of Mrs. Harrington as "mommy."

"Alright, come downstairs when you're ready; I'm making breakfast too. Your favorite."

Eddie pushed himself out of Steve's bed for the fifth day in a row. Threw on some of Steve's clothes for the fifth day in a row.

After the discussion with the kids on Friday night, he and Steve had agreed to go through the motions, make the best of living one-another's lives and actually put in the effort. Eddie told him about the things he did to make things easier around the trailer since Wayne worked nights--the laundry, grocery shopping, bringing home a little extra money by dealing—and Steve told Eddie the things he did—driving Robin to school, working at Family Video, his "health routines."

Although, Eddie would hesitate to call shaving his chest and styling his hair something someone did for their health.

He was also hesitant to maintain Steve's morning run, considering the fact that he hated running, but found that it was easier in Steve's athletic body than in his garbage bag one—Steve's words, not his.

They also set one non-negotiable thing each, that the other must do no matter what.

For Eddie, that was Corroded Coffin and their Tuesday gigs, like the one they had that night.

He had spent the weekend coming up with a plan for them to still play, even with Steve in his body and fully unable to play the guitar. Steve had even offered to learn some easy guitar riffs or chords, but Eddie had standards to keep. It would be his luck that on the night Steve was in his body putzing around that some....record label exec would walk into the Hideout. He wasn't gonna let that fly.

So they figured out that "Steve" would be spending some time with "Eddie" at Dustin's request so they could "reconcile their differences." And in an effort to learn more about "Eddie," he would go to Corroded Coffin's shows.

Since the "stage lights" were so bright and blinding anyway, no one would know that he slipped into the supply closet where his Fender would be plugged into the equipment, while Steve faked playing an unfortunately dead Sweetheart on stage. There was more to the performance than just focusing on the music...so he'd just have to hope that none of the guys gave Steve any cues that he couldn't see.

The singing was an easy fix. Jeff was working on his confidence; Eddie would just let him be the frontman tonight. No need to worry about Steve knowing any of the songs, let alone their lyrics.

He was an optimist when it came to music though. This would work.

For Steve, it was that Eddie did not talk to his parents outside of any quick, cordial conversations. And Eddie wasn't one to pry—he had his fair share of parental issues—it just seemed weird that the mention of Ma and Pa Harrington would cause Golden Boy Stevie to choke up the way he did.

Thankfully for Eddie, the Harrington's had vibrant social lives. Thomas Harrington worked late at the car dealership and then went out for dinner and drinks with his salesmen most nights Monday through Saturday. And on Sunday he got his clubs out of the hall closet and went to the Country Club to play with his other businessman friends for most of the day. Mary Harrington was just...unexplainably gone from the house for most of the day, most days. Eddie couldn't even explain when she was home to do all of the things she seemed to do around the house.

"Steve" had the day off of work yesterday so he was home for most of the day, and short of the few hours he had left the house to take you out on another date, Mary hadn't been home at all. Miraculously, when he returned at the end of the night, his hamper was empty, his bed had been made, his new schedule was written in his calendar, and his lunch was ready in the fridge for the following day.

Eddie wondered why everyone thought he was capable of dark magic when, clearly, Mary Harrington was the town's resident witch.

This morning was the first one that he had even heard her voice, let alone be the first time he would see her as he resided in Steve’s body.

Eddie crept down the stairs and into the hall, peering around to see if Mrs. Harrington was anywhere nearby then approached the little hall table where the phone was sitting off the hook.

"Good morning, this is Steve Harrington," he greeted as he pressed the receiver to his ear. "Fine purveyor of rental videos, microwave popcorn, and movie theater candy. How can I help you?" There was giggling on the other end of the line and he grinned.

"Please don't tell me that's how you answer the phone at Family Video?" you said, instead of a "hello."

"I will now," he promised.

"No!"

"You'll just have to call more often and stop people from actually having to hear it." His smile grew at your skeptical uh huh and he continued. "What's going on this morning, honey. I thought you had class."

He could envision you leaning against a payphone, twirling a finger through a lock of your hair.

"I have a few minutes," you explained. "But I just wanted to call and say I had a really good time last night."

He had taken you to the drive in to see a double feature—House on Haunted Hill and The Bat; Eddie knew you loved Vincent Price but "Steve" just had incredibly luck—but most of the night was spent talking and holding hands and at the end of the night, he got to kiss you again.

Eddie felt triumphant once again, knowing deep down that you would like the dates he had planned over anything Steve could have come up with.

Part of the discussion with Steve about how to go about each other's lives also included you. Eddie had hesitated and asked how Steve felt that someone else was dating his girlfriend and Steve had just shrugged.

"She's a good one, I don't wanna let her get away," Steve shrugged. "You'll just have to keep her warm for me."

"Is that really the best way to build a relationship?" Eddie asked. "Lies? Tricks?"

"She doesn't have to know you're not me," Steve explained. "Just...take it easy, don't do any of the good stuff until we switch back. You wanna know some of my favorite dating spots?"

So Eddie decided...if he happened to be stuck in Steve's body forever he could have you. And if he ever made it back to his body...well...Steve wasn't exactly as smooth as people thought he was. If he couldn't keep up the loverboy act Eddie had started, you would get fed up and dump him.

And Eddie would be right there to pick up the pieces.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie laughed. "Well I'm glad. I did too. What was your favorite part?"

"Uhhh...oh! That part when you—"

The two of you chatted for a few minutes, talking and laughing easily, before you told him you had to get to class. He needed to get going too, so he could drive Robin to school.

His chest ached a little when he hung up the phone.

"It's good to see you smiling, Stevie," came a voice from over his shoulder. He jumped, seeing Mary leaning against the threshold to the living room.

"Uh, good morning," Eddie greets her.

"Were you hungry? Figured we could have a little chat over breakfast," she smiled an obviously strained smile.

Shit, how did she know? What did she know?

"I actually have to get going," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder then put his hands in his pockets. "Take Robin to school...get to work, open the shop."

"Let me get your lunch then!" Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she dashed away. Eddie wondered if he could make an escape before she came back, but before long she was pressing the brown paper bag into his hand. "I put your allowance in there too. Remember Dad can't find out about it, Steve. Please...dad can't find out. Please."

"Oh...kay," Eddie frowned. Was that the reason Steve didn't want Eddie talking to his parents? Because his dad cut him off but his mom was giving him money instead? Well, Eddie could keep a secret, and enjoy the benefits of some extra pocket money. "Sure. Mom. Whatever you say. I've gotta go."

"You have plans tonight?" she asked. "I can leave dinner for you."

"Nah, I'll probably be home late," Eddie explained. "Going out with friends."

Mary's face fell into a neutral expression, then she rolled her eyes and sighed. It was night and day from how it was just moments before, and it was incredibly uncomfortable for Eddie.

"You can't do this forever Steven," she shook her head. "Keep me at arms length. I'm your mother. I'm trying."

"I don't...I'm sorry mom. I've gotta go."

Eddie scooped Steve's keys out of the little dish on the table and headed towards the front door.

"I'm trying, Steven," Mary called after him cryptically. "You can't be mad at me forever."

Tuesdays were your favorite day of the week.

Well they weren't...your favorite; did anyone even have a favorite day of the week?

To be completely honest, they were actually kind of nasty.

Tuesdays and Thursdays were the days you had the heaviest course load at the Community College. Your first class started at 7am—you thought they would be easy thanks to your early starts in high school, but you thought wrong—and aside from a brief, squeezed-in lunch break at 11:45, you had classes straight until 3. Tuesdays also meant Bingo at the Rec center and an early dinner rush of senior citizens at Benny's that started right at the beginning of your shift. So no breaks again until closer to 6? Or 7? Or later if the actual dinner rush ran long.

And Benny was a nice guy, right? He always let you take an extra 5 minutes when he made his rounds about the restaurant to greet the regulars.

But Lynn? The curmudgeonly opening waitress who had been around Benny's before it was even Benny's?! Who had been doing this for longer than you'd been alive? Lynn spent the tiny bit of overlap in your shifts criticizing everything you did.

Every. Little. Thing.

Usually you could ignore her, but on Tuesdays when you were just one...big mass of irritation, it took everything in you not to flip her the bird as she left. Just one big "fuck you, you miserable old bitch" to her back as she retreated to her clunky, old Mercury Monterey.

As soon as her tail lights were out of sight from the diner windows and she was a little too far to turn back and chastise you about something she forgot to earlier—she had done that enough for it to always be a valid fear—you got to breathe.

You suddenly gained a sense of serenity and joy.

Because Tuesday wasn't your favorite day. Tuesday nights were your favorite nights.

Corroded Coffin came in on Tuesdays. Eddie came in on Tuesdays.

You told yourself going into the day...well, now that you were dating Steve...it was going to be different. It had to be different. The date on Friday really felt like Steve had turned a new leaf; he was moving on from Nancy and was actually gonna give this thing with you a chance.

And your date with him the night before? It had been so perfect; you hadn't even thought about Eddie once. Well...actually...

That fleeting thought you had about Eddie on Friday night, wondering how he might kiss you, left a pit in your stomach. And it had returned with a vengeance after Steve had kissed you last night too. Enough so that it practically kept you up all night from guilt and made you call him this morning to tell him...

I really had a good time with you last night but when you kissed me I thought of someone else.

...to tell him what a great time you had, and that you were excited to see him again.

And it wasn't a lie. You were excited to see him. Excited for this change in him. Excited for the attention and affection he freely gave you during these last two dates that he, generally, hadn't given you during the first two.

You owed it to Steve, and to yourself, to give it a chance. And in order for it to be a fair chance, you had to make a clear distinction in your mind that...well...Steve was...your boyfriend now, and Eddie? Eddie was unfortunately just a friend.

A friend you wanted to kiss.

God this was gonna be difficult.

You could still be nice to him, still look forward to Tuesday nights when he and the guys would come in. They were fun nights filled with music and silly arguments and a textbook example of "boys will be boys."

You simply had to remember that all of those little extra things you did—make sure his favorite booth was free, ask Benny for pickles on his patty melt that he always forgot to ask for, or give him extra whipped cream on his slice of pie—weren't because you wanted Eddie to like you. Or notice you. Or maybe ask you out one day.

It was because you were his friend.

You had even come up with some foolproof plan to get the butterflies to stop flapping in your stomach when you did all of those little things for Eddie. Because you certainly couldn't stop doing them; that would be suspicious. Instead, every time your heart would beat a little harder for Eddie, you would just...think of Steve. His smile and his laugh and his kiss...

It would be so easy.

And certainly much easier tonight of all nights, as Steve walked into Benny's with Corroded Coffin, laughing along to some joke Jeff told before they had opened the door.

It would be so easy.

"Hey guys," you greeted nervously and turned to Steve. "What are you doing here?"

“What a lovely greeting Honey,” Steve chuckled and quickly glanced around before he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment as Eddie and the boys watched the interaction, Dave and Gareth giving Eddie pointed looks, which he ignored.

How strange.

“Steve, please,” you laughed nervously. “I’m at work.”

“Well the boss isn’t around,” Steve pointed out.

“Uh…w-well I have your usual booth ready guys,” you greeted Eddie and his friends.

"Harrington's joining us tonight," Eddie pointed out. "Can we get a table or instead?"

"I can just pull an extra chair up to the booth," you offered, knowing Eddie really liked the view out of the window.

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "That booth does sound nice, Eddie. I don't mind a chair."

"No, we'll get a table," Eddie waved a hand dismissively. "Everyone good with that?" The rest of the guys agreed and Steve huffed an agreement beside you.

"Ok, uh," you stammered. "Wherever you guys wanna sit then, I'm the only one here tonight. And Ben. As usual."

It wasn't...terrible or anything, them wanting a table, it just threw off your cadence. If they had sat in the booth, you already had menus, waters, and silverware set out. Now you had to move everything across the restaurant because Eddie had beelined for a round table in the corner.

It was fine.

Steve hung back for a second and pulled you to the side.

"Hey, uh, is it ok that I'm here?" he asked. "You look a little flustered."

"Yeah, no I'm ok," you gave him a small smile. "Just wasn't expecting you. And I've had a bit of a long day. Kind of overdue for my last break too."

"You should ask Benny if you can take your break," Steve offered. "We'll be fine. The guys are hungry but they'll have to wait regardless."

"The...guys..." you narrowed your eyes at Steve. It felt too familiar coming from his mouth. "What are you doing here with them Steve?"

There was a beat as Steve's eyes got a little bigger and he looked down at his feet for a second before he cleared his throat.

"Listen Honey, I took what you said the other day to heart," Steve started quietly, inching a little closer to you. "About Eddie being your friend. I figured...he had something going on with him, I shouldn't have been so quick to judge. So I went to check up on him and...I don't know, turns out the guy isn't half bad when you get to know him."

"Really?" you asked blankly. You had no reason not to trust him but...going from calling someone a dangerous freak who should be in jail to hanging out with him and his friends in just a few days...seemed drastic.

But when you stared into his hazel eyes, there wasn't a hint of deceit in them.

"Sure," he shrugged a little. "I even went and watched his band play tonight."

"You did?" You were sure the craziest music Steve was into was Van Halen, if that. All of the tapes in his car were…rocky and poppy and nothing outside of the Top 40 charts.

"They're pretty good," he grinned. "Very good actually. They did Flight of Icarus and Mr. Crowley."

"You...listen to metal?" you asked with a frown.

"Uh," Steve shrugged again. "There's some good songs. And Ozzy. Who doesn't know Ozzy?"

"You gonna sit there and chit chat all night Harrington?" Eddie called from the table and the rest of the guys all chuckled. Steve's eyes hardened for a second but he gave you a gentle smile before he went to join them.

You didn't always go outside during your breaks; more often than not, you would sit in the kitchen, do some homework, and chat with Benny as he manned the grill. You'd think a middle-aged man and a 19-year old would have nothing in common, but Benny was honestly like an aloof father figure. He just stood there as you talked or complained about this or that, offered advice or lame jokes. It was perfect.

But tonight was just...confusing.

You tried to make the best of it, you really did. You brought the guys everything they needed, you smiled shyly when Steve reached over and held your hand as he ordered...

He even asked for a little kiss and you reluctantly gave him a peck on the cheek.

But it was Eddie.

He was being a real douchebag. Not to everyone else; just to you.

You had gotten their table set up and then went to check on the other customers and get their drink orders. But when you came back, he didn't even want his Dr. Pepper. He said water was fine.

When you asked everyone if they wanted their usuals—Patty Melts all around. No onions for Dave, extra sauce for Gareth, on a bun instead of rye for Jeff, and add pickles for Eddie—Eddie changed his mind and ordered a bacon cheeseburger instead. Ok, no big deal. It wasn't the first time he'd changed it up.

But then he had just been...picky.

The fries were overdone, the bacon wasn't crispy, it wasn't medium well.

You had brought his food back to the kitchen 3 times, and Benny even offered to kill Eddie for you to get you to laugh.

"He's a good kid but maybe it's his time of the month or something," Benny shrugged, urging you to let things slide. "Got bitten by a werewolf. Or turned into a vampire or something. I could even put some garlic powder on the fries, see if it does him in."

He then told you to go take your break, that he would take the burger back out and make sure none of the guys were having any problems with their food.

"Or else," he raised his spatula as though it was a deadly weapon.

Who knows, Benny kept things to himself, maybe he could kill someone with a spatula...

You were leaning against the grey stucco on the side of the building, enjoying the slight breeze, when there was a crunch of gravel off to the side. You turned your head to see Steve standing there with a small smile and his hands in his pockets.

"You doing ok, honey?" he asked.

"Yeah, just a long day like I said," you explained.

"How was class?"

"Stupid. How was work?"

"Stupid." He grinned wider. "I, uh, was really looking forward to seeing you tonight though."

You pursed your lips to stop the smile from making it onto your face.

"You really wanted to see me in my stupid uniform?" you asked, holding your hands out to emphasize the shapeless blue dress. "I look like Hazel."

"Did I ever tell you that I had the biggest crush on Shirley Booth when I was a kid?" You broke out in laughter. "What? What's so funny? Hazel might just be my type, did you ever think of that?"

"You are..." you started, but paused and shook your head dismissively as he got closer to you.

"I'm?" he questioned, leaning over to take one of your hands in his. He pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"You're not...what I expected Steve Harrington to be like," you muttered. His eyes went wide for a second as they darted back and forth between yours. "You're so much better."

"Of course I'm better, it's because I'm..." He faltered for a moment. "It's because I'm crazy about you, honey."

Your heart dropped into your stomach...

Steve was...crazy about you?

"You just make me wanna dance," he chuckled and took a step back, pulling you with him. He lifted your arm and made to twirl you around, and you laughed as you tripped on the gravel drive. He urged you to try again and you managed to twirl this time, apron flaring.

Round and around until you got a little dizzy and he pulled you to his chest.

"Hi Honey," he whispered as he rocked you back and forth to some unheard tune.

"Hi," you giggled breathlessly.

"Can I kiss you?"

"You don't always have to ask."

"But can?"

"Always."

Then his lips pressed to yours and you closed your eyes and you were surrounded by him again. Noses brushing, his lips softly pecking at yours, his hands tugging you closer as you reached up to hold his face in yours.

He pulled away briefly to drop little kisses on the corner of your mouth, then your cheek. Your eyes opened and you watched your own fingers thread through his hair, seemingly leading him further along to your neck, but instead it was just an unwitting follower because the choice to suck a bruising kiss at your pulse point was anything but yours.

You grasped at him tighter as something between a whimper and a moan exited you, and he chuckled in a husky, smokey way before laving his tongue over the abused spot.

You closed your eyes again, luxuriating in the moment and all things Steve Harrington...then it hit you.

All of the other senses got to you first—touch and taste, and sound and sight—and now it was smell. And it wasn't what you had initially associated with Steve, that bright, citrus scent.

It was musky and sweaty and spicy and a little bit sweet. There was a heavy undertone of tobacco beneath it all.

Eddie.

"Hey kid, break time's over!" Benny hollered into the night and you pushed yourself away from Steve, stumbling over the gravel drive once again. His hands reached out for you, to pull you back or to steady you, you couldn't be sure.

You regained your footing and batted his hands away to quickly fix your rumpled uniform and wipe at your lips with the back of your hand.

"You good Honey?" Steve chuckled. "You need a minute?"

"Uhh, yeah, I'll be in there in just a second," you waved him back inside. He gave you a wink and a smug smile before he turned and headed back to the door.

Your posture went slack for a second as you tried to control your heart rate and your thoughts. And where your head should have been consumed with thoughts of Steve, instead they were filled with—

"Nope! No. No more!" You stomped your feet and gave your face a few light slaps. "No more. Bad."

You took a few deep breaths, regained your composed service persona, and headed back in.

You spotted the guys table had been cleared, so you got ready for the best part of the night.

Benny was a realist who knew how to do burgers, fries, and shakes, and outside of that, didn't push the ticket. Which meant all of the desserts came from the local bakery every afternoon. They even came pre-sliced.

The whipped cream however? Benny was a connoisseur. He boasted to everyone that had the patience to hear about it that it wasn't cool whip, it wasn't from a squeeze can. If there was whipped cream on a shake or a dessert it was fresh.

"Nothing good in life comes without a little effort," he said the first time he handed you the hand-crank-egg beater-turned-cream-whipper that was, most assuredly, older than you.

So you spent the next few minutes plating everyone's desserts, whipping the cream, and getting it all looking perfect. It might have been the end of their meal, but it was the highlight of your night.

You would take a win where you could. Because everything else felt...

"Alright guys, time for dessert?" you asked, bringing the tray to their table.

You went clockwise starting with Eddie at the head of the table.

Cherry pie for Eddie, Apple for Gareth and Dave, Cheesecake for Jeff.

"And I didn't know what you'd like Steve," you told him with a sad smile. "But just let me know what sounds good and I can go grab it for you."

You were about to start putting dollops of whipped cream on everyone's dessert when Eddie pushed his plate further out from him.

"I didn't ask for Cherry," he said with a sniff.

Everything went quiet.

"Uh," Dave looked at the other guys at the table. "Cherry is your favorite man."

"I don't know, I'm not in a cherry pie mood," Eddie dismissed. He looked up at you "Can I get cheesecake instead? No whipped cream."

"S-sure," you smiled.

You were about to grab the cherry pie from the table to bring it back when Steve reached out and pulled it towards him.

"I'll just take this one," he reasoned. "Cherry actually is my favorite, and I am definitely in a cherry pie mood."

Eddie laughed.

"Whatever you say Harrington," he teased with a roll of his eyes. "Guess you have to get an extra long run in tomorrow if you're indulging so much. Mr. Star Athlete over here."

The

"I'm not gonna say no to cherry pie," Steve shrugged then looked at you. "Can I get extra cream on mine honey?"

He winked at you and you felt your face heating up, but you kept your mouth shut. You went around piping the whipped cream on everyone else's desserts, then ran back to the kitchen to get Eddie's.

As soon as the door swung shut behind you, you started to feel sick.

Something was wrong...

It was just off, you'd been feeling it all night. But you couldn't put a finger on it until now.

It was Eddie...

He was still his funny self...for the most part. But just like the other day at Family Video, he just seemed to be operating on a different frequency. And you wondered for a second if maybe it was you...or maybe it was Steve...maybe the fact that Steve was here and he wasn't...being very discreet with his affections. Neither were you, if you were being honest.

Was he...angry? Jealous?

He was the one to invite Steve out in the first place, so it seemed. Something just didn't make sense...

Steve had to admit that he was having fun.

It had barely been a few days of being Eddie Munson, but it was great. He spent most of the weekend with the kids learning the basics of DnD and putting together some things for a campaign.

He still didn't really get the whole game part, actually. But spending time with the kids? He wouldn't say no.

Having to go to school again wasn't...the greatest. Especially when all of the teachers seemed to have it out for Eddie. Steve just...started paying a little more attention, stopped being a general menace during class. He dug deep to remember some of the coursework from last year...and vaguely wondered how much Eddie didn't pay attention in class in the first place. Steve was not a model student and he could still remember this stuff, so he figured Eddie should be getting an A+ in all of his classes he was repeating now for a second time.

He was sorely mistaken.

Eddie's friends were also...pretty nice too, he had to admit. He had never really given the Hellfire Club the time of day when he was still at Hawkins High, aside from the obvious, but they were actually pretty nice guys.

The music though? It had been the highlight of his week so far.

Steve hadn't ever really understood what the big whoop the theater kids got performing but it was an adrenaline rush, something he hadn't felt for months since he was no longer a star athlete. He hadn't even been playing the guitar but the high of being on that raised platform, having the lights in his eyes, having his heart beat in time with the drum. He hammed it up a bit on the stage once he felt confident enough, like he had seen in one concert or another.

It wasn't the kind of music he liked, really, but he could get used to it if only to chase that rush.

And Steve had felt like a king again when Jeff had clapped him on the shoulder at the end of the set and excitedly gushed on that being the first time he had ever fully landed some solo or another.

Except..."Eddie" hadn't nailed the solo. Eddie had.

And as infectious as the celebration was, it made him feel a little guilty that Eddie couldn't even properly celebrate what must have been an exciting moment. Instead he just sauntered out from the little alcove they had set up and watched Steve take the credit for his accomplishments.

Steve went through the motions, just like they had agreed on, for the rest of the night.

They went to Benny's with "Steve" in tow at "Eddie's" insistence—he couldn't be left alone with Eddie's friends, he just knew he would fuck something up and give it all away—and had their late night bites.

And you were there, laughing and chatting and doting on all of the guys, especially "Steve." Even though it sucked watching you kiss his cheek, knowing it was really Eddie inside…it was nice to know that he had something to look forward to once he got back into his own body.

Something real. Something he thought he had with Nancy.

Now that the remnants of dessert were pretty much over and the guys were just shooting the shit until Benny kicked them out, Steve wandered across the restaurant to the old jukebox to pick out some music.

He briefly wondered what the response would be if “Eddie” picked something like Billy Joel. He couldn't give less of a shit though. "Eddie" might not like it but Steve was a little tired of metal after hearing it all night, after all.

"Hey Eddie?" your voice came from behind him and he turned to face you.

"Yeah, hey...uh...sweetheart," he gave you an easy smile. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok," you explained. “You seem…I dunno, kinda off tonight.”

“What?” Steve faltered. He seemed off? How? If you could tell…could the others?

”Yeah you didn’t…want your regular order, you didn’t want pie,” you shrugged. “Didn’t even want whipped cream on your cheesecake.”

Shit.

How was it that he could flawlessly fake his way through a guitar solo, but not this?

"I...uh...," he started hesitantly, wracking his brain for an excuse. He dug deep, deeper than he thought was possible, and he came up with...

Dinner with his parents. His father pushing away a plateful of food. His mother looking tired and bored.

"Sometimes people's tastes change," he finished.

It was a painful answer for him to give...but he didn't think you and Eddie were close enough for your expression to crumple the way it did. It probably wasn't the kind of answer Eddie would give to a friend—he had seen how protective he had been over them even before this whole fiasco—but if it meant getting you off his back, he would easily do something that would push you away.

"You know I've been worried about you," you stared. "The other day, outside of Family Video. It was so incredibly scary. And if you're having a tough time..."

"Uh, yeah," Steve folded his arms across his chest awkwardly. "Sorry about that. It was just...just a bad high. I'm ok now. No need to worry."

"Ok," you nodded hesitantly. Steve thought you would just turn on your heel and walk away.

But you didn't.

“Listen I know we’re not…super close or anything,” you hesitated. Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded for you to continue. “I just…I want you to know you aren’t alone.”

“Thanks, uh, I appreciate that,” he nodded and smiled tightly.

"And if there is something going on, you can trust me."

"Of course."

"You know," you paused and looked down at your hands. It was several beats of you taking deep breaths and looking down at your hands, and Steve wondered if you were waiting for some kind of response...or thinking the right words to say next. You glanced up and frowned. "I had a-a c-crush on you in high school."

His heart dropped in his chest and suddenly it felt like Nancy all over again. Telling him that she didn't love him, telling him that it was over, that their relationship was fake, that she didn't even know she was ready to be in a relationship. Only to show up with Jonathan Byers to the Sadie Hawkins dance a few weeks later.

Steve thought everything was working out so well with you. He watched you...kiss his cheek.

Were you planning on breaking up with him?

He wanted to lash out, like a wild animal, tell you all of the things he wishes he could have said to Nancy.

Except...

Except he wasn't Steve Harrington at that moment, he was Eddie Munson.

And you weren't confessing your feelings in a way like someone with a crush would. You didn't look happy or excited. You didn't even really look like your usual sweet and kind self. You looked conflicted.

Because, he realized, he did watch you kiss his cheek. He, Steve, watched you kiss "Steve's" cheek.

If you weren't here to tell "Eddie" that you were breaking up with "Steve" to be with him, then what were you doing?

"I-I mean, we both did," you backtracked with a little laugh and Steve frowned. "Me and Terry. You remember Terry right? I mean, of course you do."

Steve didn't know who Terry was, but "Eddie" would.

"Of course I do."

""Right," you smiled. "Anyway, we both had a crush on you. And there was this time...I don't know, you don't want to hear about this."

"You're dating Steve now," he pointed out. "Why are you telling me this? Why are you telling me that you—"

"I guess," you interrupted him but hesitated again. "You seemed pretty lonely last year, all the times we talked. Even if they weren't...talks? Just small talk. But...after Mickey left for college and you stayed behind—"

That's right, Mickey Caldwell...and his sister Terry...

"--well you have the band and all...but...no one even wanted to be your partner in class but me. And now...you have to do it again and I'm sure it's even harder now."

Steve was catching on.

You weren't there to tell "Eddie" that you were breaking up with "Steve" to be with him. You were just being a good friend. Because even though Eddie had his group of misfit friends...

He was lonely.

Steve knew the feeling. Aside from Robin and the kids...he really didn't have anyone around either. He had just been thinking about how nice it was to spend time with Eddie and his friends after all.

Steve had been jealous that Eddie was spending all of this time with the kids...taking them away from Steve, when he was just as lonely as Steve was...if not more so.

It gave him an idea...

"So," you broke Steve from his thoughts. "If you ever...want to talk. I'm here for you. You have me, always, if ever you want."

You smiled then. Bright and hopeful.

"Well, thanks, sweetheart," he nodded and placed a hand on your shoulder. "I appreciate it...really...it's very nice of you. You're a really good friend."

He didn't see—didn't notice—how your smile fell as he walked past you to get back to the table with the rest of the guys.

Eddie walked into the familiar darkness of the Harrington house, a good exhaustion settling in his bones as he trudged up the stairs and into his bedroom.

He went through the motions of getting ready for bed. with a peaceful smile on his face. It had been a good day, the likes of which he really hadn’t felt in a long time. If ever.

The show at the Hideout then dinner at Benny’s. Dancing with you, kissing you, and holding you in his arms.

He could see your smile in his mind’s eye clear as day.

He didn’t want to delude himself into thinking it was love or…or happiness…it was just joy. Plain and simple. And it brought him so much comfort, knowing he could be the one to provide that for you.

Once he was in bed though, and he replayed specific moments over again, that comfort soon faded.

He tried to sleep, he really did.

But every thought he had, he thought of you. Looking perfect in your little uniform. Your laugh as you spoke to everyone, the special attention you gave him. You looked at him the way he always wanted you to.

You moaned the way he could only ever have imagined when he kissed your neck. It was filthy and still ringing in his ears hours later.

He’d wanted to touch you, just like he did in his dream that morning and it was even nicer than he had imagined.

The only thing that would have made it better was if he was in his own body. If it was him, Eddie Munson, that you were looking at and feeling things for and moaning for.

It was with all of that and at the reminder of the dream that he had been so rudely pulled from that morning, that Eddie started getting hot under the collar.

It wasn’t about sex, really; it was intimacy. And that’s what he wanted more than anything. The closeness with you. To know you. To be with you.

He closed his eyes and imagined your smile directed at him again, the way you put your hand on his shoulder when you asked if everyone was alright, and then fixed his hair a little bit when you went to leave.

His hair…he’d always been sensitive about it and even in this other body…in his own body…giving it a tug always helped get his motor running.

Eddie reached up and gave Steve’s hair an experimental tug, the short few days not nearly enough for him to be used to the difference in length and texture. It felt crunchy from all the product he had put in and it immediately felt uncomfortable on his fingers.

No touching the hair, noted.

He vaguely wondered, were his nerves on fire because this body was sensitive and aroused and receptive to your attention. Or was it because he, Eddie Munson, resided inside.

Only one way to find out.

He palmed himself over the comforter, then over his sweats, but it wasn’t enough.

Eddie didn’t hesitate to strip himself of his sweats and the suffocating briefs, and he propped the pillows behind him in a more comfortable way so he could…well so he could watch if he wanted to.

Right now he just wanted to imagine. To feel.

The thought of touching himself had vaguely crossed his mind the other day, after he’d jumped into a cold shower shortly after he’d woken up with morning wood. He wondered if that was crossing a line though. Steve’s dick…was just a dick. Just like his dick was a dick. The same but different. And he’d seen different ones before and yeah some were weird or different sized…did it matter?

If Eddie thought about it from a mechanical sense…a car was a car, no matter who the owner was, or how cautious or rough the driver was…and even two cars of the same make and model could have their very unique quirks…

As long as everything worked and you got from Point A to Point B right?

So he closed his eyes and imagined.

You were there, of course, back outside of Benny’s. He was making you laugh and twirling you around, just like he had earlier that night. Watching your little uniform skirt balloon out just the slightest bit. It wasn’t ruffly or anything, just a standard waitress uniform with a straight skirt.

It didn’t take much touching to get him fully hard; he’d spent enough time exploring to know what he liked so he just let the feelings guide him in this new body.

He licked his palm several times then spit in his hand before he held the shaft loosely. He gave it a few loose strokes before he tightened his grip a little and twisted, hissing at the sweet friction.

But this was his fantasy, so your uniform could be anything. Flowier, shorter, enough to see the frilly lace edge of your panties when he twirled you and the skirt flared.

“Didn’t know you were trying to turn this sweet moment into a peep show,” you giggled at him and swatted at his chest as he pulled you into his chest to rock together with him.

“I dunno honey,” he sighed. “I think I would be seeing more than just some lace if this was a peep show.”

“Well, what did you have in mind, big boy?”

The hand that had been resting near his head immediately went down to cup and squeeze his balls, and his throat got tighter as he held in a strangled moan. He wasn’t…too sure if he liked it all that much…but he was positive that he didn’t dislike it. He could make himself grow to like it if he needed to.

He stilled the stroking to run his fingers over the head; a favorite little move of his where he pivoted his wrist, letting the joints in his fingers run over the tip and around the head of his cock, hitting all of his sensitive spots in varying intervals. It wasn’t the same, his fingers weren’t as long now, as he noted while he was playing the guitar earlier.

Regardless, pleasure still surged through him, so it got the job done.

“No peeking,” you whispered against his lips and you covered his eyes with his hands. He’d asked for your panties and you’d agreed without hesitation. If this wasn’t a dream, he would never have been that lucky. He chuckled as your hands pulled away from his and it took everything in him not to look through his fingers at the sound of the rustling of your uniform.

Suddenly your hands were on the waist of his jeans, working the button open and the zipper downwards.

“Honey, what are you doing?” he teased. “You being naughty?” He just about pulled his hands away from his eyes and you snatched your hands away from him.

“Nooo,” you sing-songed. “No looking yet, I’ll tell you when.”

The ache for him to chase his release was different than he was used to. The best way to describe what he usually felt was…dulcet…smooth…it danced along his nerve endings and made him want more. Drove him to do more, to explore more. A siren’s song to tug and twist and tease until he was floating. But now it was almost…primordial. It leached into his skin and deep into his bones; a hefty, cloying need that would grip his entire being whole and drag him into the depths of the earth itself if it could.

It was a delicious contrast, the difference between the softness of your hand wrapped around him and the slight drag from your panties as you used them to help get him off.

You spit on his tip and let it mingle with his precum, let it slide over the sensitive skin.

Eddie spit in his hand again, trying to achieve that feeling that his imagination conjured up but was just outside of the corporeal.

“Do you like it?” you asked and he could hear the feral grin in your voice.

“I like it,” he moaned.

“Do you like me?”

“I love you,” he said breathlessly. “Fuck, I would love you so if you just let me.”

He was close, it was euphoric. His nerves exploding, synapses firing as he twisted his hand around the head just so, squeezed his balls again, and then the base of his cock.

“Ok you can look now.”

And he did, directly into those mischievous, knowing eyes of yours as you looked right back at him.

“Cum for me Steve.”

And…he couldn’t…he couldn’t…

Eddie opened his eyes and stared around the room–a room that wasn’t his–looked down at the hands that weren’t his, touching the cock that wasn’t his.

Because as much as Eddie could simply…compartmentalize and rationalize for however long he had been in his little fantasy…

It was Steve, it was all Steve. All you wanted right now was Steve Harrington and not Eddie Munson. You probably would never want Eddie.

And maybe one day–if he was still cursed to live like this, if he was stuck in this body until the end of his life–he could live with the fact that you wanted Steve.

But as his pleasure evaded him and all of the sad thoughts returned, he simply couldn’t escape the simple fact that his honey didn’t want him…she wanted someone else.

The guys had left shortly after your...interaction with Eddie.

Your confession.

The sweet kiss Steve had given you before they had left was...wonderful. But it was like the glue holding together the broken vase on that one episode of the Brady Bunch.

The feelings were building, the pressure too much, and before long...you sprung a leak and the reality of what you had done hit you. It had you shaking. Benny must have known something was wrong; he had asked you all through your closing tasks if you were alright.

"You good kid?" He asked. "Cuz I can finish up if you wanna get home. I know today's your busy day."

Truth be told, he always asked you that, but the extra edge of concern to his voice was a dead giveaway that you weren't doing a good job of holding it together.

“Nah Ben,” you smiled meekly. “I’m ok. Tired. But I’ll make it. Thanks.”

You started hyperventilating by the time you got into your car.

“Stupid, you’re so stupid,” you muttered to yourself. “How could you tell him?”

You weren’t even sure what possessed you to say anything, what compelled you to stop and say those dumb words.

You know, I had a crush on you.

What did you expect him to say...confess that he had a crush on you too?

Declare his undying love for you?

Instead he just called you a friend.

By the time you reached the 5th street intersection, you rationalized that, at the very least, you hadn’t mentioned that you still had a crush on Eddie. And as you pulled into your driveway, you were panicking again because…well what did this mean now that Steve was spending time with Eddie?

Would he say anything? God, did Steve already know?

It really was nice that Steve was hanging out with Eddie...they seemed to get along well enough. And yeah Eddie had the guys but…well, it wasn’t a stretch to say that Eddie could use as many friends on his side as he could get. He always put on a brave face but that didn’t mean he never felt lonely. Or alone. Stuck in a place he desperately didn’t want to be.

You just wanted to tell him it was ok. That he had you if he want—

"God, stop," you slammed your hands against the steering wheel as though it would force the thoughts from your brain. As though it would stop your heart from aching. "Stop thinking about him, you have to stop thinking about him."

Because the more you thought about Eddie, the more you’d want to comfort him.

And the more you wanted to comfort him, the more you’d want to hold him and kiss him.

And he’d made it plenty clear tonight that he didn’t see you as anything more than Mickey’s Kid Sister’s Silly Friend.

Or at least that’s just how it felt.

Another busybody townie who couldn’t mind their own business, who had to offer words of encouragement, who pitied him.

No. Not that. He didn't give people who pitied him the time of day. What if...

Bile rose in your throat as you came to a realization.

What if he didn’t just see you as another silly townie? What if he had known? He had known you had a crush on him all along, and he had taken pity on you. Because you were Terry's friend, he didn't want you to get hurt. And now that you were with Steve...he couldn't let you keep your hopes up anymore? You had a real boyfriend now.

That was it...

He was just...being nice to you all this time.

And that...hurt.

The realization of all that wasted time. Years spent thinking...hoping...

You made it into your house, went through the motions of getting ready for bed, and numbly said goodnight to your mom as your mind raced and raced and your heart broke even more.

It wasn't until you were tucked into bed, head filled with sad thoughts of every time you thought that maybe...just maybe Eddie liked you back, that you remembered.

Your diary.

Some silly old pink think that Terry had gotten you for your birthday years ago. You didn't write in it too often—you hadn't ever really been a diary person—certainly not recently. It was tucked into your nightstand underneath magazines and random junk from your school bag.

You sat up, turned the lamp on, and opened the drawer. You dug through the junk until you found it.

You flipped indiscriminately through pages filled with doodles and random thoughts. Until you came across entries from your freshman year at Hawkins High.

Silly things about class schedules and how mean Mrs. O'Donnell was and how you were not good in geometry.

And then...hearts and stars and flowers and one name repeated over and over and over...

Eddie Munson. Edward Munson. Mrs. Edward Munson.

You ran your fingers over the indentations your pen made in the pages as you read your own silly words.

Eddie invited us to sit with them at lunch.Terry said no, that she wanted to sit closer to the cheerleaders. Maybe they would be nicer to us if they actually knew we existed.

Eddie held open the door for me when I passed him in the hallway.

Eddie got his driver's license. He and his uncle fixed up this van and now he's driving Mickey and Terry to school. He asked if I wanted a ride too, said he would let me ride shotgun on Fridays. He's so sweet.

Eddie called me sweetheart today. I swear my heart stopped. I am dead. I have died.

Terry said she has a crush on someone but she won't tell me who it is. I really want to tell her that I have a crush on Eddie. Maybe if she knew, she could say nice things to him about me.

She likes him too. She wants him to ask her to prom. She keeps asking who my crush is and of course I can't tell her. Because he would obviously choose her over me, who am I kidding?

It's the last entry in the diary and the page is warped from old tears and scribbled over with pen.

After that day, you buried the diary in your nightstand. You kept your thoughts to yourself. Writing them down made them real and scary. Instead you let your secrets fester and grow and rot inside of your heart.

You didn't realize you'd started crying until fresh tears started hitting the already-warped page.

"Shit," you scrubbed at your eyes for a second and then stared at the journal as your throat got tight.

Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson.

His name written over and over and over again. Obsessively.

Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler. Nancy Wheeler.

Just like Steve had been with Nancy. Always talking about her and thinking about her.

All of your wasted feelings. From both of you.

But Steve had moved on. And so could you.

You ripped the warped page out of the diary and tore it to pieces. And then the next page. And the next one. Over and over until your thoughts and feelings were ripped to confetti on your bedspread.

No more.

It was time to move on from Eddie Munson.

Tag List:

@luna-munson83 @kaitebugg03 @invaderzia1 @delusionalbabe @secretdryrose @eddiesguitarskills @simplyundeniable98 @imaslutforcuddles @hanobe8 @josephquinncore @champagnejoker @strawberrysodaslut @fangirling-4-ever @sadbitchfangirl @rosaline-black @vxlkyrieee @aysheashea @micheledawn1975 @thora-jane @pricelessemotion @lfaewrites @hazydespair @realsuper-dark @novelnovella @jaime1110 @manda-panda-monium

#eddie munson x reader #Steve Harrington x reader #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #Steve harrington fluff #Steve harrington angst #Eddie munson smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #Eddie munson stranger things #Steve harrington stranger things #freaky friday au #god this took forever but im so happy with where it landed #holy shit how are they all gonna fix this now

461 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 7 months

Text

holy things 9 also on ao3 // prev. // next cw: panic attack

“I like you,” Steve says in a rush as soon as the door is shut behind him, his chest tight, his hands shaking. “In a romantic way, I— I have a crush on you, and I’ve never felt like this before, for anyone, and I have no idea what’s happening to me, and I—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly.

“—I didn’t realize until you told me because you’re also my best friend and I thought you were just a really good friend, and you are, but I don’t wanna be friends with you—”

“Steve.”

“—I want you, like— in a way that I don’t understand because I never learned about any of this shit in school, and I don’t know anything about romance, I just know that I want it, and—”

“Stevie.”

Eddie’s hands are on Steve’s face, holding it gently, warm against his skin that’s still cold from the night and the rain. He’s smiling hesitantly, eyes gleaming.

“‘S okay,” he says softly when Steve finally falls silent.

Steve exhales.

Eddie’s thumbs brush over his cheeks, and he pulls Steve’s face forward a little bit until their foreheads press. Steve’s eyes fall shut, and his hands reach up to Eddie’s waist, forming fists over the thin fabric of his shirt. He’s still shaking.

He shivers, tightening his shoulders, and Eddie exhales, his hands running down to Steve’s neck. His hands are warm.

“Stevie,” he murmurs. “Sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, letting the word cover him like a blanket, soft and warm.

“You’re freezing.”

Steve nods, shivering again.

“Stevie.” Eddie’s thumbs press under Steve’s chin, nudging it up so Steve looks at him. His vision is a little blurry when their eyes meet. “You should take a shower. I’ll get you some fresh clothes, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says softly, nodding. Eddie leans back in and presses their foreheads together for a moment before he takes Steve’s hand and tugs him toward the bathroom.

Steve waits, watching, as Eddie gets the shower ready, leaning over the tub to feel the water, and he pulls his jacket off, wincing as it peels away from his sweater. He’s trembling now, his teeth starting to chatter.

“Towel’s on the door. Leave your clothes on the floor,” Eddie says gently, taking the jacket. “I’ll bring you some clothes and put them on the counter, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says again.

The water is hot, and he melts under it as it hits his skin. The room is filling with steam, clouding his vision. He wraps his arms around himself, letting his eyes close, submitting to the white noise of the spray of water.

The sound is interrupted when there’s a gentle knock on the door before it opens, and Steve opens his eyes. He can see Eddie’ shape through the shower curtain.

“Clothes are on the counter,” Eddie says.

“Thank you,” Steve forces out, arms tightening around himself.

“‘Course, sweetheart.”

For a brief moment Steve wants to pull the shower curtain open, to reach for Eddie and pull him under the water with him, to ask him to wash him clean.

But he watches Eddie bend to pick up Steve's soaked clothes, and then he watches him leave, hears the door shut behind him.

Steve uses Eddie’s soap. Washes the rain from his hair, from his skin, hopes he isn’t washing away Eddie’s touch.

The room feels oddly silent when he shuts the water off, almost echoing like it’s empty despite the steam. The towel hanging from the door is soft, and he wraps it around himself for a few moments, hiding his face in it. And then he dresses, smiling as he pulls on Eddie’s clothes. It’s all dry and clean and soft and warm, and Steve wants to cry again.

Eddie is in the living room, sitting on the sofa. He isn’t watching anything on the television or reading a book or anything, just staring at the ground, fingers picking at his lower lip. He looks up when Steve comes in, eyes scanning over him quickly, and they look at each other.

And then Eddie holds an arm out silently, and Steve melts again, eyes burning as he goes to him, falling onto the sofa and into his arms. He squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face in Eddie’s neck, letting his arms get tucked between them as Eddie pulls him closer, arms right around him. He feels Eddie press a kiss to the side of his head.

“I missed you today,” Steve says weakly, quietly. “So much.”

“God, I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes, fingers now gripping the fabric of Eddie’s shirt.

“For what?”

“I— I didn’t say anything,” Steve says weakly, letting Eddie pull him away to look at him. Their legs are tangled, and Eddie’s fingers are a little cold when he touches Steve’s face. “When you told me this— this morning, I just sat there, and I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t—”

“Shh, Steve,” Eddie murmurs, leaning close. “Baby.”

Steve falls quiet, his eyes finding Eddie’s lips like he’s trying to find that word, that tiny, beautiful word, in the air between them.

Baby.

“I know,” Eddie says softly, almost whispering. “It’s scary.”

“You’re not scary,” Steve whispers.

He tugs at the front of Eddie's shirt. Lets his head fall to Eddie’s, his forehead pressing to Eddie’s cheek, and listens to Eddie breathe.

They stay there for a long while, holding each other. Eddie’s fingers brush over Steve’s neck, tracing lines back and forth so lightly it makes him shiver. He traces Steve’s ear the way Steve traced his a while ago, and Steve suppresses a smile. Their hands rest on Eddie’s leg, and Steve looks at them. Their fingers lace, and he lifts his hand, spreading his fingers to hold Eddie’s hand so he can see it.

The letters on his fingers read EVIL, and the irony makes Steve smile again.

Eddie’s thumb brushes over the back of Steve’s hand. Steve looks at him. He’s smiling softly, barely smiling at all, looking at their hands, touching Steve so tenderly it’s like he’s breakable. His fingers slip up Steve’s neck into his hair even though it’s still wet, scratching over his scalp and sets going the strands absently.

Eddie looks at Steve. Their eyes meet.

Steve’s cheeks flush with warmth, and Eddie’s smile widens. He squeezes Steve’s hand gently. When he speaks, it’s in whispers.

“It doesn’t scare you?” he asks quietly, looking at their hands again. “Liking a man?”

Steve exhales.

“No,” he says softly.

“No?”

Steve shrugs a little bit. He relaxes against the back of the sofa without detaching their hands, letting one of his legs stretch out over Eddie’s lap.

“At first,” he says softly. “But…”

He trails off, looking at Eddie again. He’s looking back at him, listening intently, and he’s so beautiful Steve could cry.

“It’s not scary to like you,” he says. “I…” He furrows his eyebrows, thinking, looking at their hands. “Liking you isn’t the— the scary thing. It’s… what other people say. And think. That’s what’s scary.”

“Right,” Eddie says slowly. Steve looks into his eyes intently.

“We’re not the problem,” he says. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Eddie blinks his eyes, and Steve’s chest aches as he watches them fill with tears, glistening and shining in the dim light of the living room. A tear escapes Eddie’s eye, and Steve shifts on the sofa to kneel, pulling his hand away to reach for Eddie’s face.

He brushes his tears away as gently as possible, and Eddie lets him, looking up at him.

“It’s not scary to like you,” Steve says, whispering. Eddie blinks tears out of his eyes, and he looks like a damn angel, his eyebrows furrowed, tears glistening in his eyes and in his skin. Holy. “It’s easy.”

Eddie closes his eyes. Steve wipes the tears that slide down his cheeks.

“So easy,” he whispers.

He brushes Eddie’s bangs back and presses his lips to his forehead without another thought. Eddie exhales shakily. He reaches for Steve’s hips, and Steve hugs his neck, pressing his face into Eddie’s hair as he shifts to find his place on Eddie’s lap. Eddie hugs his waist tightly, tucking his face into Steve’s neck. Steve holds the back of his head, closing his eyes.

He can feel Eddie’s breath against his neck, can feel Eddie’s chest rising and falling against his. Eddie’s hands spread across the small of his back, and his eyelashes flutter against Steve’s skin.

It kind of feels like they’re meditating. Just breathing together, slow and steady and calm, like their hearts are beating in unison.

Until Eddie shifts just enough for Steve to hear his voice.

“Baby.”

He says it sleepily, mumbling, and it’s like the word crawls under Steve’s skin, makes itself a home there. He squeezes his eyes shut, suppressing a shiver.

“Yeah.”

“Bed.”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, opening his eyes, and he starts to move off of Eddie’s lap, but Eddie’s arms tighten around him.

“Mm-mm.”

Steve hums confusedly, and Eddie’s hands slide down to his thighs as he moves to the edge of the sofa, holding Steve in place as Eddie stands up. Steve lets out a quiet, surprised yelp, hugging Eddie’s neck. Eddie holds him with a hand on his bottom as he flicks off the lamp and makes his way to his room by the vague light of the streetlamps outside. Steve closes his eyes, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck.

Eddie sets him on the bed, pressing him into the mattress and resting on top of him. Steve hums again, tightening his legs around him and squeezing. Eddie’s face presses into his neck, his breath warm against his skin, and Steve blinks his eyes at the ceiling. His tears are warm on his skin as they fall down his temples, into his hair and onto the fabric of Eddie’s pillowcase.

Eddie is in the kitchen.

Steve can hear him putting away the dishes, opening and closing cabinets, carefully setting plates atop each other. Steve rolls onto his back, listening. It’s raining again.

Steve sits up slowly, blinking his eyes open, letting himself get used to the morning light. The hoodie he’s wearing is twisted, and he straightens it out as he slides off the bed.

He sees Eddie as he goes to the bathroom, and when their eyes meet, Eddie’s face breaks open in a bright smile. It’s like he lights up, and he looks away, biting his lip. Steve feels giddy. He tries to suppress a smile as he brushes his teeth, but he just ends up grinning at himself in the mirror, and he wants to roll his eyes at how ridiculous he feels. He even tries to sort his hair out.

Eddie is leaning against a counter in the kitchen when Steve comes out of the bathroom, his arms crossed, looking at the ground. His hair is tied back, a messy knot at the nape of his neck, and there are strands falling in his face. They fall out of the way when he lifts his head as Steve steps in front of him, leaning against the counter opposite him, mirroring him.

“Hi,” Steve says softly.

“Hi.”

They’re quiet. Steve looks at the ground and nudges his foot against Eddie’s.

“So,” Eddie says slowly.

Steve looks up at him, eyes wide, and Eddie is already looking back.

He’s gazing at him. Like Steve is something worth gazing at.

“So,” Steve breathes.

Eddie smiles.

“I know this is… all very, uhm. New to you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, his cheeks flushing with warmth.

“Uhm.” Eddie pauses, and he’s so cute when he’s nervous. “We don’t have to… jump into anything.”

Steve blinks.

“I don’t wanna be friends.”

Eddie’s eyes flick back and forth between Steve’s.

“What do you want?” he asks softly, like he’s nervous, tentative. Steve’s stomach flutters.

“What can I have?”

Eddie’s eyes shine at him, and for a moment he looks like he’s going to cry, and Steve’s chest tightens.

“Anything.”

Steve looks at him. At his sleep matted curls and shiny eyes and the faint dusting of freckles that are scattered across the bridge of his nose that Steve noticed the day they met but never really appreciated until now.

The morning light is shining on Eddie and he looks so lovely that Steve’s stomach hurts.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Eddie blinks, and he looks hopeful for a moment, his eyebrows raising just the slightest bit.

“You want me to kiss you?” he whispers. Steve nods. Eddie looks at him. And looks. And looks. He hesitates when he speaks again, his eyes trained somewhere on Steve’s face before they meet his eyes again. “Can we… Can we talk for a minute first?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “Of course.”

Eddie smiles at him again, and then he’s stepping closer, reaching down to Steve’s legs, and Steve suppresses a beaming smile as Eddie lifts him up onto the counter. He wraps his legs around Eddie’s hips, and Eddie’s hands slide up his thighs, squeezing gently. Steve could swoon.

“…I’m assuming you’re not familiar with the traffic light system.”

Steve blinks.

“Like… driving?”

Eddie smiles.

“Kind of, but in regards to… intimacy.”

Steve’s eyes flicker to his lips. He shakes his head.

“So,” Eddie says, his hand squeezing Steve’s hip gently. “Similar to driving. Green means go, red means stop, yellow means slow down.”

Steve nods.

“People usually use it for, like, sex,” Eddie says, his cheeks pink. “But we can use it whenever. If we’re just cuddling, or kissing.” He brushes his thumb back and forth over Steve’s hip. Steve nods again. “So every once in a while I’m gonna ask you for your color, and you tell me one of those three.”

He’s talking so softly, so gently and patiently and kindly, and it’s like Steve can feel Eddie’s kindness inside him, permeating him like mist through a screen door.

“Green if it’s all good,” Eddie continues. “If you’re comfortable, if you feel good. You say yellow if you’re… unsure about anything, or if you wanna change anything. If I do something you don’t like or if something doesn’t feel right. We’ll pause right away and talk and fix whatever it is and then we can keep going if you want to.”

“Okay,” Steve says quietly.

“If you say red,” Eddie says, “everything stops right away. No questions asked, you don’t need to explain yourself. We stop, and then we do whatever you want. Watch a movie, take a nap, whatever. And we can talk about what happened, make sure it doesn’t happen again, but if you don’t wanna talk about it, we won’t. Okay?”

Steve’s throat feels tight.

“…You’re really nice,” he says quietly, almost whispering. Eddie scoffs, tilting his head at him.

“This is bare minimum shit, Stevie.”

“I still appreciate it.”

Eddie looks pained for a split second, but the expression is gone quickly.

“Does that all sound okay?” he asks. Steve nods. “You don’t have to wait for me to ask your color, okay? If you don’t like something, you say yellow or red and I’ll stop right away. Same if you say stop, or wait, or no, or anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice right. Eddie nods, his eyebrows rising like he’s saying Okay? again. “Can you kiss me, please?”

Eddie cracks a smile, and he looks teary. He lifts a hand to Steve’s face and touches his cheek.

“I’m going to be so bad at this,” Steve says as Eddie leans closer. “You’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

“Never,” Eddie breathes.

Steve’s heart melts.

“You’re sweet,” he says softly. Eddie smiles and nudges their noses together. Steve can feel his breath on his face, and it’s not a sensation Steve ever thought he’d like, but he finds himself craving it, desperate. “Please, Eddie.”

Eddie nudges their noses again, and then he’s pressing his lips to Steve’s gently, carefully. His hand lifts from Steve’s thigh to touch his face, his fingertips pressing into Steve’s cheek before his hand slides around to the back of his head like he’s holding Steve in place. Steve lets out a soft, weak noise, his eyebrows furrowing, and his hands raise to Eddie’s chest.

Eddie pulls away after a few moments, and their lips part with a slick noise that finds its way under Steve’s skin. Eddie stays close enough that their lips brush, and Steve keeps his eyes closed.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve nods.

“Green,” he breathes, and Eddie’s lips curve into a smile against his.

“Good boy,” he murmurs.

Warmth floods Steve’s body, and his lip quivers. He steadies it by leaning in and kissing Eddie again.

Their mouths crash together, off-center, and Eddie grins, reaching to hold Steve’s face between his hands. Steve giggles into his mouth, his fingers curling into the fabric of Eddie’s hoodie.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers between kisses, and Eddie hums, his fingers dragging through Steve’s hair.

“You’re good,” he says softly, kissing him again, like the two simple words don’t flip Steve over. “Just do what you want,” he murmurs. “Do what feels good.”

Steve lets out a weak whine, and his face flushes with heat. His hands clench on Eddie’s hoodie, holding him tightly, and he wonders how this could ever be a sin. How God could look at their pleasure, at how gentle, how sweet, Eddie is to Steve, and feel betrayed.

“‘S okay, baby,” Eddie murmurs.

“I love it when you call me that,” Steve breathes, cheeks still warm. He’s pathetic and he knows it, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. His thumbs brush gently over Steve’s cheeks before his hands slip down to his jaw, and then his thumb is ghosting over Steve’s throat lightly and Steve might cry.

“You wanna be my baby?” Eddie says softly.

Steve’s throat tightens. He’s squeezing his eyes shut, and he nods, because he’s never wanted anything more in his entire damn life.

“Please,” he chokes. “Please, I wanna— I wanna be your baby, Eddie—”

Eddie silences him with another kiss, nodding, holding him tenderly. And Steve feels insane, because as Eddie’s teeth nip at his lower lip, Steve realizes he would let Eddie do anything with him; he would let him bite until Steve is bleeding, would let him lick his skin clean. He would let Eddie consume him, bones and all. Which probably isn’t normal, or healthy, but Steve can’t bring himself to care.

He’s shaking as he clutches at Eddie, trembling as he clings to him, and Eddie is so, so gentle. Running his hands over his back like he’s soothing him, holding his neck with his palm to Steve’s throat in a way that makes Steve feel helpless and small and safe. He kisses Steve until he’s breathless and panting, and he swallows the air straight from Steve’s lungs.

They part for a moment, and Steve exhales, gripping the front of Eddie’s hoodie. And then Eddie kisses him again, light and brief and soft, and his tongue brushes over Steve’s lower lip. Steve gasps and his hands jump to Eddie’s shoulders, holding him tightly.

“Is that okay?” Eddie checks, whispering, and Steve is nodding before the question is even done.

“Yes,” he says breathlessly. “Yeah, green, yes, please.”

Eddie grins.

“You want my tongue, baby?”

“Oh, God.”

Steve’s whole body aches. He lets his head fall as he shivers, his hair falling into his face as he squeezes his eyes shut, but Eddie tucks his hair back, touching his chin and gently guiding him back up to meet his eyes.

“Stevie,” he says softly. “I said anything, didn’t I?”

Steve’s vision blurs. His lip quivers.

Eddie holds his face between his hands and guides him down until their foreheads are pressed together. Steve clings to him, holds his shoulders tightly, his legs wrapped around him.

“My baby,” Eddie breathes. “I’d give you the fucking world.”

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck.

“I don’t want the world, I just want you.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, and then,

“Fuck.”

He kisses Steve so hard it pushes Steve back, and Steve gasps, his eyebrows furrowing, his eyes squeezing shut. And it’s like Eddie is desperate now, a hand holding the back of Steve’s head, the other pressed into the arch at the small of his back, dragging him toward the edge of the counter, as close as possible. His tongue slips across Steve’s lips, and Steve whines again, burying a hand in Eddie’s hair, messing up his bun. Eddie touches his face, pulling away, breathing hard, and he touches Steve’s lower lip with his thumb, pressing until Steve’s mouth falls open.

For a moment he wants to let Eddie’s thumb slide inside, but he can’t move, can barely even think, like Eddie’s put him in a trance. Eddie’s eyes are dark, shining, and they lower to look at Steve’s mouth.

“Good.”

Steve’s chest floods with warmth.

He lets his eyes close, and Eddie kisses him again, holding his jaw. Steve tightens his legs around Eddie’s waist when Eddie’s tongue slips over his lip. He wants to beg for it, but he doesn’t want to pull away. His hand tightens in Eddie’s hair.

And then Eddie is licking into his mouth, and Steve’s never been drunk before but he thinks it might feel like this. He would fall over if Eddie stepped back even an inch, if he took his hands off of him.

Eddie hums in the back of his throat, and the sound rumbles around the wet noises of his tongue in Steve’s mouth, and Steve shivers again. It’s kind of gross, wet and messy and sloppy; their chins are slick and sliding as they tilt their heads so get closer, to kiss deeper.

But Steve finds that he loves it.

He adores how filthy he feels with Eddie’s spit on his skin, with Eddie holding him in place, Eddie humming to him and tasting him, and and and and and

Steve pushes himself forward, fist clenching in Eddie’s hair as he closes his lips around Eddie’s tongue, sucking, and Eddie’s breath catches.

“Yeah,” he breathes when Steve pulls away with a gasp. “There you go, baby.”

Steve drops his head, closing his eyes, one hand on Eddie’s neck as he slides the other back to his chest. His heart is beating fast, and he exhales slowly.

“Shit.”

Eddie laughs brightly. He slides his hand to Steve’s back, rubs a line over his spine, up and down, soothing and gentle.

“You okay?” he whispers, pressing their foreheads together again. Steve nods. “Did you like it?”

“Eddie, I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“Please don’t.”

“No promises.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment before he says Steve’s name under his breath, and he touches Steve’s chin, lifting his gaze. Their eyes meet, and Steve melts. He presses his hand into Eddie’s chest a little harder.

“I like it,” he whispers. “Really.”

“I…” Eddie pauses, his eyes flicking back and forth between Steve’s. “I don’t want you to feel like— like you have to do anything,” he says. “If you—”

Steve leans in and kisses him, effectively silencing him. Eddie inhales slowly, holding Steve’s cheek.

Steve stays close when he pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, letting out a soft breath. Eddie brushes his thumb over Steve’s cheek.

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I don’t… I don’t feel like I have to do anything.”

Eddie holds his waist. Steve likes it when he holds him there. It makes him feel small. (Everything about Eddie makes Steve feel small.)

“I… I know you won’t force me to do anything,” he says quietly. Eddie pulls away to look at him, and Steve’s hands fall to his lap. “If I don’t like anything, I’ll tell you.” He pauses, cheeks warm. “I trust you.”

Eddie smiles. Steve looks away.

“Shut up.”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me.”

“Yeah, of course I’m looking at you,” Eddie says sassily. “You’re cute when you blush.”

Steve’s face flushes even hotter, and he rolls his eyes.

“This is stupid.”

“What’s stupid?” Eddie asks, still laughing.

“Got a stupid crush on you,” Steve mumbles, ignoring the way Eddie is touching his face, trying to nudge him into meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, no shit. We just made out.”

Steve suppresses a grin and finally looks at him. Eddie leans in and kisses the end of his nose, and Steve giggles.

“I got a stupid crush on you too,” Eddie whispers.

“…No shit.”

Eddie snorts, and he digs his fingertips into Steve’s side, making him laugh loudly and hunch over, trying unsuccessfully to push Eddie away.

“Asshole,” Eddie says fondly.

“Be nice to me.”

Eddie suppresses a smile, biting his lower lip, and Steve’s stomach does a somersault as he watches, suddenly wishing he was the one biting him. He’s so beautiful it makes Steve feel crazy.

Eddie’s hands spread over Steve’s waist and he tilts his head like he knows how weak it makes Steve. He leans close enough that their noses nudge together again, and then he shakes his head back and forth slowly, brushing the end of his nose against Steve’s, and Steve feels like he could cry.

He closes his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing, and Eddie’s hands tighten on his waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve leans in and kisses him, unable to wait any longer. He reaches to hold Eddie’s head, pushing his fingertips into his hair, opening his mouth when Eddie’s tongue brushes his lip, and Eddie laughs. Steve giggles, cheeks warm, and their teeth clash because neither of them pulls away.

“Sorry,” Steve says, still giggling, and Eddie shakes his head, catching his lower lip in a chaste kiss.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says softly.

Steve’s eyes lower to Eddie’s mouth. His lips are shining.

“I like…” Steve starts, hesitating, face burning. “I like when you put your tongue in my mouth.”

Eddie’s eyebrows quirk up and he suppresses a smile.

“Which is an insane sentence,” Steve says, giggling again. “That I'm saying out loud and not feeling embarrassed about,” he adds, very embarrassed.

Eddie reaches up to hold his face.

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed about anything you like,” he says firmly, eyes still shining with amusement. Steve tries not to smile. It doesn’t work. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Steve rolls his eyes, looking away.

“Why do you like it?” Eddie asks, brushing his thumb over Steve’s cheek. Steve turns his face into his palm, looking at him shyly.

He shrugs.

“Feels good,” he says softly.

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“Feel… I don’t know.” He pushes Eddie’s sleeve down a little bit, looking at his tattoos, tracing a line down his forearm. “Like… Gross. And I like it.” He looks at Eddie. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“No,” Eddie says lightly. “Not weird.” He’s touching Steve’s cheek in a way that makes Steve feel delicate. Pretty. Like fine china. “And even if it was…” He shrugs, scrunching his nose. “I like it too.”

Steve’s stomach flutters.

He leans in to kiss him again. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, hugs him to himself tightly, hums when Eddie’s hand slides around to the small of his back. Eddie tilts his head, and Steve can feel him smiling against his mouth as he kisses him deeper, licking into his mouth again. His hand slides to Steve’s hip, the other holding his jaw before it moves to cradle the back of his head, pushing into his hair and tugging lightly, like he can’t decide what he wants to hold. Like he wants to hold all of Steve.

Steve’s legs tighten around Eddie’s waist again, his ankles locking behind him, and he never wants to let him go, never wants this moment to end.

“There’s… There's something else,” Eddie says between kisses, his voice muffled against Steve’s mouth. “That you might like.”

“What?”

“You might hate it,” Eddie says, and he kisses Steve again before he can say anything else, hard and lingering.

“Wanna try,” Steve says when they part. “What is it?”

“Uhm.” Eddie’s eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment. “Some people like it when their partners… spit in their mouth.”

Steve blinks.

He’s struck first by the word partners. He’s never heard it like this, in this context. He thinks he likes it.

And then, of course, the spit thing.

It’s disgusting. Debauched. Depraved.

Part of Steve wonders how someone could ever come up with something like that, something so filthy, so unsanitary, and then another part of Steve wonders why he wants it so badly.

God, he wants it.

He nods.

“Yeah?” Eddie says softly, raising his eyebrows, looking vaguely surprised. Steve’s hands grip the front of Eddie’s hoodie, pulling him closer as he nods again.

“Please,” he says weakly, eyes flickering to Eddie’s mouth.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Okay.”

He kisses Steve hard, holding the base of his head, tugging his hair, and then he pulls away enough to murmur a soft, “Tilt your head back for me.”

Steve does, his eyes fluttering for a moment, holding Eddie’s hoodie tightly, exhaling in an almost sigh as Eddie leans closer, hovering over him.

“Good boy,” Eddie murmurs softly. Steve hums. Lets his lips part.

Eddie touches his face. Runs his thumbs over his cheeks and across his lips like he’s analysing him. He looks into Steve’s eyes one more time, intent, checking, asking in silence if he’s sure, if he wants it, and Steve is ready to beg if he has to.

He doesn’t have to beg. Eddie said he would give him anything.

He holds Steve’s jaw as he spits slowly, and Steve shudders when it hits his tongue, letting his eyes fall shut. He opens them to look at Eddie as he closes his mouth.

“You don’t have to…”

Eddie trails off when he sees Steve already swallowing, his throat bobbing.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Steve asks, his voice rougher than before.

Eddie exhales

“…Fuck.”

He kisses Steve. Bites his lower lip and then sucks on it, and Steve furrows his eyebrows, clutching at him, desperate. And that feeling is back, that twisting in his stomach, that knowledge that he would let Eddie fucking consume him if he wanted to, if he asked.

It’s an odd feeling. He’s never felt it before. But he wouldn’t mind it, if Eddie wanted to gut him, to skin him. To rip him apart and pull him inside out.

A sound escapes Steve, and he buries his hands in Eddie’s hair, his fingers curling into fists around the strands. Eddie gasps and Steve takes it as an opportunity to slide his tongue messily into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie groans, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and holding him tightly.

They’re both breathless when they part, panting into each other’s mouths. Eddie pulls away enough to look at him, and Steve holds back a whine, not wanting to let him go too far.

“So precious,” Eddie says, still breathless, lifting a hand to touch his face, and he’s caressing him. Like he’s soft, like he’s pretty, like he deserves to be touched softly like this. “Sweet little lamb.”

Steve exhales, his face crumbling as his eyes burn with tears. Eddie kisses his cheek, kisses away the tears that fall, wipe the salt across Steve’s face with his lips. And Steve shivers, listening to the softly slick sounds of Eddie’s kisses across his cheeks and then over his jaw and under his ear. Steve’s head falls back and his hand crawls up to the back of Eddie’s head.

Eddie buries his face in Steve’s neck. Kisses him over and over and over, slowly and gently and tenderly.

It never would have occurred to Steve that someone could kiss his neck. He’s seen it happen in the hallways at school, his eyes lingering on the couples wrapped around each other, leaning against lockers, before he looks away, guilt eating at him for even seeing them. He never thought he’d be here.

Of course he never thought he’d be here.

Sitting on a counter with a beautiful boy kissing him so sweetly.

“Eddie,” Steve breathes.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie mumbles against his neck, lips brushing his skin.

“Please.”

He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, but Eddie seems to understand. He lifts his head, presses his hands into the small of his back, kisses him.

“C’mere,” he says into Steve’s mouth, pulling him to the edge of the counter and then lifting him off of it, arms tight and firm around him as Steve clutches at his hoodie.

“Where are we going?” he asks when Eddie pulls away so he can see. His voice is slurred a little bit, mumbly like he’s just woken up.

“Gonna lay you down,” Eddie says, carrying Steve out of the kitchen. “So I can spit in your mouth easier.”

A sound escapes Steve; a weak, pathetic sound that he tries to bite back unsuccessfully.

“Okay.”

Steve is laying on Eddie’s arm, chin tilted up to kiss him.

It’s lazy. His lips are sore from hours of kissing, but neither of them are stopping.

Eddie keeps murmuring into his mouth between kisses, speaking so softly Steve almost can’t hear him. But he can, and every word that finds its way between Steve’s lips makes him shiver, makes his stomach flutter.

That’s good.

There you go.

Sweet baby.

And he hums quietly, smoothly, dragging his fingers through Steve’s hair. The hums vibrate through Steve’s mouth, down his throat, right into his chest. It feels good.

Eddie shifts after a while, rolling on top of Steve, propping himself up on his forearm next to Steve’s head. Steve whines pitifully, his chest tightening, his blood rushing. He likes Eddie’s weight above him, pressing him into the bed, holding him down like he isn’t allowed to move. His hand falls to the side, weak, and Eddie’s hand slides down his arm to link their fingers, press their palms.

He pushes Steve’s hand into the mattress. Steve hums.

And then his eyes are burning again, and damn it, he’s tired of crying. He doesn’t know how he’s run out of tears.

He tries to ignore it as long as he can, but Eddie notices and pulls away enough to murmur to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Steve breathes, because there’s nothing wrong, why is he crying—

“What’s your color, Stevie?” Eddie asks softly, like he can feel the way Steve’s heart is suddenly pounding.

“I…” Steve pauses, holding Eddie’s hand tightly. He blinks his eyes open. His vision is blurred. “…Yellow.”

“Good boy,” Eddie says softly, and he slowly sits up, pulling Steve with him. Steve closes his eyes again. He doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want this to end. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says breathlessly, still holding Eddie’s hand, clutching at it.

“What are you feeling?”

Steve exhales. Thinks. Feels.

Eddie’s fingers laced with his. His lips sore from kissing, from Eddie sucking on and biting them. His head cloudy from the way Eddie talks to him.

“Feel good,” he says weakly.

He inhales sharply. Exhales. Inhales.

And then he’s breathing so fast his throat feels dry, and somewhere in the room Eddie is saying Whoa, whoa, whoa, and squeezing his hand. And Steve can’t see, can barely hear, can’t feel anything at all.

Baby.

Stevie, baby.

I’m right here.

Deep breath, sweetheart, you’re okay.

Breathe in.

Steve forces his eyes open and looks at Eddie’s blurry form. He’s in front of him, hair down, falling over his shoulders, and he looks so soft like this. Like Steve’s fingers would go right through him if he reached out to him. Like a ghost.

Steve’s hand tightens on Eddie’s, and he’s there.

“Eddie.”

“Hey, baby, I got you.”

Eddie slowly unblurs, and Steve looks at him desperately, like he’s about to fade from view. Eddie nods, rubbing the back of Steve’s hand.

“Breathe,” Eddie says softly. “Nice and slow, baby, you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve gasps between breaths. Eddie clicks his tongue.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says softly, squeezing Steve’s hand again, rubbing over his knuckles. “You did so good, Stevie.”

“But I—”

Eddie shushes him softly, touching his face, wiping away a tear Steve didn’t notice.

“You did,” he says gently, firmly. “You did so good, baby, using your safe words for me. So fuckin’ proud of you.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and leans forward, letting his head rest against Eddie’s. Eddie wraps his arms around him carefully, tentatively, and Steve melts against him, sighing, tucking his face into his neck. Eddie’s arms tighten around him.

“Okay?” he asks softly. Steve nods. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Steve says weakly. “I felt good, I— You didn’t do anything wrong, I— I liked everything, I don’t know what…”

He trails off, his throat tightening, and Eddie runs his hand over his spine.

“Steve?” he says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Did… Did your parents give you that talk, when you hit puberty, about, like… your body tempting you and stuff?”

“…Yeah?” Steve says, and oh.

Eddie shifts, turning a little and nudging Steve so he lifts his head. He pauses, biting his lip and looking at Steve, scanning his face.

“You…” He hesitates again. “…You were raised to think that you… that you don’t deserve pleasure. That you don’t get to feel good.”

Steve’s eyes flicker.

And that’s it. Somehow Eddie figured it out from outside Steve’s head, realized what it was that consumed him so quickly, so abruptly.

Guilt. Shame. Steve thinks there are too many words for a feeling so ugly.

“Babe,” Eddie says softly, holding Steve’s chin, looking into his eyes intently. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You understand me?”

Steve looks at him. He can’t say anything.

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. “Do you understand me?”

He nods.

“Good,” Eddie says softly. He pushes Steve’s hair back and kisses his forehead. No one’s ever kissed his forehead before. The only touches it's ever received have been the gentle presses of priests’ thumbs, the smudging of ash against his skin. Somehow Eddie’s lips feel more holy.

“I…” He stammers silently for a moment, looking at Eddie desperately, wishing he could just think it, wishing Eddie could hear from his mind somehow. “…I like this,” he manages. Eddie blinks, listening. “I— I want this.”

Eddie smiles a little bit, nodding.

“And I don’t— I don’t want you to think I don’t want it,” Steve says anxiously. “It’s just—”

“I know,” Eddie whispers. He holds his cheek and Steve turns his face into his palm. “It’s not gonna be easy.”

“It is, though,” Steve says weakly, whispering. “I like you. So much. I just…”

“I know,” Eddie says again, and Steve can’t help but frown. “I get it, baby, you don’t— you don’t have to explain yourself.”

He caresses Steve’s face. Looks at him. Kisses his forehead again. He moves so their legs are wrapped around each other, so close their chests are almost touching, Steve’s hands hanging loosely between them. Eddie takes them and runs his fingertips across his knuckles gently before he lifts them to his lips and kisses them.

“You can take your time,” he says softly, still holding Steve’s hands like he’s about to lead him into a dance, looking into his eyes. “As long as you need. I’ll be right here.”

It makes Steve ache. He kisses Eddie, lowering their hands and tilting his head, and Eddie lets him. It’s a softer kiss than before, gentle and lingering, and they stay close when they part to breathe. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to Eddie’s.

“I want you,” he breathes.

Eddie’s hands tighten on his, and he shifts so their noses nudge together.

“You have me.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

#!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#IT HAPPENED #<333333 #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

165 notes · View notes