#soft platonic stobin

[thelastwalkingsoul]

Inspired by this tweet and a conversation with Cass (@henderdads) and Liam (@withacapitalp) about puzzles.

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

Steve hovers over Robin's shoulder, standing together at his dining table. There's newspaper spread out to protect said table with a completed puzzle lying on top. Robin unscrews a fresh bottle of Mod Podge as Steve waits for an answer.

"Nope," she replies, popping the 'p'. And with that, she pours the glue all over the front of the puzzle.

"Wha- Robin!"

She laughs. "There's only one way to find out, dingus."

This had been all Robin's idea. Her constant teasing about his ugly plaid wallpaper had finally worn away at Steve, and he'd caved, agreeing to rip it all down. She'd celebrated as soon as the words had left Steve's mouth, grabbing his hands and spinning him around in a weird, oh-so-Robin dance.

It'd taken them a few days to ask around to learn how and what they needed, then strip the wallpaper and paint Steve's room. It had been tedious but vastly more therapeutic than Steve had expected. Stripping the plaid had felt like stripping away the final part of Steve tied to his 'King Steve' era, the growing pile a final 'fuck you' to his parents.

He'd gone for yellow on the walls, needing a colour that didn't viscerally remind him of the Upside Down that wasn't a dull grey or white. It was a lot at first, a significant change to a space that had been the same for as long as Steve could remember. But it finally felt like his.

"What if it ruins the puzzle?" He can't help but ask. It wasn't one of his favourites for that exact reason, but he didn't want to have to throw it out.

"Then we'll have learnt something." Robin pauses her paintbrush strokes, turning to look at him. "It's going to be fine Steve."

He can't help but soften at the care in her eyes. Robin can read him like a book. He smiles. "I know."

"Good."

The next day they're standing in Steve's room, the colours of the puzzle contrasting nicely with the yellow wall it's now situated on. Steve couldn't believe it stuck together when he'd picked it up. It was solid, like a piece of cardboard, which had made it all too easy to put on the wall.

It feels like a reminder of good times, like so many of the photos scattered around Steve's room. A reminder that he did that with Robin, that he was no longer alone in his love of puzzles. Robin had given Steve the opportunity to share the calm that the activity had brought him. He'd always enjoyed them, especially as a kid, but post-demogorgon, they'd meant a lot more. Working on a puzzle became a way for Steve to settle his thoughts and distract him from his constant paranoia. For Steve, nothing was better than curling up with a mug of hot chocolate or sitting in the sun and basking in the warmth like a cat, doing a puzzle.

Robin had found out in the aftermath of Starcourt. She'd found him at the table, searching through puzzle pieces at an ungodly hour of the night, unable to sleep. Wordlessly, she'd joined him, which had slowly become a tradition. Late-night puzzling turned into lunchtime puzzling, which made way for nights when they would get wine-drunk and puzzle. Robin called them middle ages moms once and threw them both into fits of laughter. It's perfect, and Steve wouldn't have it any other way.

Robin bumps his shoulder. "So, you like it?"

Steve looks at her, a smile on his face. He slings an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a rough side hug. "I love it, babe."

"Wanna go start another?"

"Absolutely."

"I like how it looks when we just glue the back."

"Hmm. You're right, you can see the individual pieces better."

"Yeah. It's not as weirdly shiny either."

It's been months. Steve's bedroom walls are covered in puzzles of all sizes. Each and every one worked on with Robin by his side. Steve's not alone anymore. He feels safe. He feels loved. He feels at home.

Steve pulls his other half into a crushing hug. "Thank you, Robbie."

She makes a confused noise against his shoulder. "For what."

"This. Being here," he squeezes her a little harder. "For everything."

"No need to thank me, dingus. It's an honor."

"I mean it, Robs."

"Yeah. So do I."

#platonic stobin #my beloveds #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #puzzles #steve loves puzzles #now so does robin lmao #soft platonic stobin #fluff #steve harrington is happy #for once lmao #souls writing

[findafight]

Steve shows up to work one day with a baby bjorn complete with sleeping baby on his chest and Robin is like Steve....what the fuck?

And Steve says "I would've called you last night but she'd only stop crying when I held her and my parents were fighting, obviously, and I had to figure out how to make her bottle then I fell asleep with her on top of me and I think my dad legitimately forgot about us even though this is his fault, and there's no one to take care of her so I had to bring her. Sorry."

That is a lot and answers very few of Robin's questions.

"who...is she?"

Steve brightens and smiles down at the baby who's tiny baby fist is scrunched up in his work vest. "Oh! My half sister. Her mom works for one of my dad's business partners and brought her to my parents while they were away last week so they came home, mostly to dump her off on a nanny they forgot to hire--hence my baby holder here--and fight. Turns out dad cheating is easier to ignore when there isn't actual proof of it."

"oh. Woah."

"yeah. Anyways, ready to rewind some tapes?"

So they start work Steve logging returns into the computer and cupping the baby whose name I don't know yet's head. Then the little baby wakes up, making little baby noises, and Robin is not one for babies really, but Steve coos and picks her hand off his chest and waves it at Robin.

"see, that's your auntie Robin! Say hiii auntie Robin!"

The baby chews her tongue at Robin and blows a spit bubble.

And how is Robin supposed to not be charmed by that?

"awww," she says, letting the baby grab her finger, "yeah, I'm your auntie Robin. Your big brother's gonna take care of you so good huh? You'll know your way around retail in no time."

Steve giggles.

It is then that The Gremlins decide to show up and Cause Noise. Baby sister starts to cry and Steve takes her to the back to get her to calm down and change her, comes out (ignores the party's questions. Giving them Ultimate Mom Pose with Bonus Effect of Baby) hands her to Robin who is a little nervous but she will not let her new niece (?) Down, and goes back to find and heat up a bottle.

Eddie, who drove the gremlins and was looking for something in his van comes in, sees Robin holding the baby and is like huh? What's this?

And then Steve comes out with a bottle and a baby blanket over his shoulder, reaches for the baby from Robin and tries to get her to latch on the bottle with quiet words and gentle hands and Eddie is not okay he's not fine he's having a melt down because Steve with the kids is one thing but Steve with a Baby is something very different and he should not be expected to keep it together seeing this

Part 2.

Part 3

#steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #platonic stobin #steddie #accidental baby acquisition #listen. his mum doesnt trust his dad. steve deserves a sibling out of that. eddie is just trying to cope #big brother steve #Robin gets to be an auntie bc you KNOW steves raising that sibling. hes like ohhhh if i dont then she will never Be Held just like me... #and so congrats steve! youre a brother/dad! #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles #also note from 2hr post posting: ive decided that she calls steve bubba bc robin calls steve that when he is Especially Sad #and bc steve is baby's main caretaker she latches onto it as hes not her dad or mum but he IS bubba #im aware its usually for little brothers but its also used as 'pal' or 'buddy' and i think robin would call him it affectionately #when bc its Soft. baby gets Soft Steve all the time thats her Bubba!! #also aware its mostly souther but not exclusively!! steve is bubba now to his 4mo sister ok

[sundaynightlive]

Soft (Steddie + Platonic Stobin)

Hey Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I say something? And can you promise not to get mad at me?”

Steve looks over at her curiously. He can hardly imagine what she could say that would really upset him, or why she’d feel the need to preface anything she had on her mind with a question like that. Usually, she’s all gung-ho about pissing him off—it’s just how they are, constantly bickering like an old married couple. Steve really doesn’t blame anyone for thinking they’re together—they sure act like it, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Sure.”

“Say you promise.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Rob, I’m not gonna—”

“Say you promise.”

That actually slightly unnerves him. He keeps his eyebrows raised, but relents.

“Alright, I promise.” She shifts in her seat, glances up at Eddie and the kids on stage, all chattering about something he doesn’t understand—attack rolls? Natural 20s? Owlbears?

“He makes you soft,” she says. Steve follows her gaze.

Oh. She noticed.

Steve tends to be oblivious, but he had noticed this, mostly because it was so… new. Irregular. Confusing. Around Eddie he just… softens. That’s about the best way to describe it—he’s glad Robin said so, because now he can put a name to the feeling. His brain seems to stop its mile-a-minute, mamma-bear rampage and just… quiet. He can’t put a finger on why—well he can, but it’s… a lot. He’s spent many a night staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern whether he really is romantically attracted to Eddie, or if he’s projecting. Maybe he’s been alone so long he just can’t tell anymore. Maybe his and Nancy’s little dance around each other is just confusing to the point of insanity.

But Robin noticed. And they should talk.

“Can we move back a few rows?”

“Sure.”

They stand and none of the kids nor Eddie take notice. Their voices are getting progressively louder, and Ed is perched in his chair like he could spring up on to the table at any moment, hands motioning excitedly in all sorts of ways. He talks with his hands, just like Nance and Robin.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says as they take seats in the mid-section, a little farther towards the back of the auditorium. He settles in, both to the seat and his own uncomfortability, not sure how to start the things he needs to say. He has questions, answers, concerns—but where to begin?

The beginning, probably.

“Do you remember that night the three of us were hanging and then Vickie came and picked you up and I told you I left right after?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.”

He looks over to make eye-contact with her, and finds just Rob, gazing at him. A little curiosity, a little surprise at his blatant lie—but he hadn’t known how to talk to her about it. Or how to explain himself. He had thought it easier just to hide that he and Eddie could ever get along without her, because she felt like an essential intermediary. A reason that it isn’t what it actually is.

He can’t really explain himself. He doesn’t really get why he lied, either.

“Liar,” Rob accuses, but there’s no bite.

“I stayed,” Steve confirms, breaking their shared gaze to look back out toward Ed. He’s got this feeling in his guts like he’s about to get into trouble, like he’s broken one of his mom’s nice antiques and is about to lose his swimming pool privileges—

“We talked for the entire night. Until six in the morning. And then I went home, and I wanted to call him. And I… I’ve been having these thoughts like maybe I like him? And I don’t get it because—” Robin takes his hand “—I like girls, you know? I know I do, you know I do—”

“Can I interrupt? Just a two second thought.” Steve nods, “Some people like boys and girls, it’s called being bisexual. I just want you to have that in mind for the rest of this conversation.” Steve blinks at her. Nods slowly.

Maybe he should’ve gone to her sooner.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Okay… right. So… I’m fucking stupid,” Steve breathes. Robin shakes her head vigorously, adding a second hand to the mix.

“No no no,” she insists quickly, “But I want you to—“

“No, I like him,” Steve realizes, a million—maybe a billion—thoughts and feelings invading him all at once. Fear, uncertainty, excitement, relief, anxiety—he can’t even latch on to one of those. He doesn't know how to feel or think or anything except for this stark, pervasive understanding— “Holy shit, Robin.”

“Steve, you’re getting ahead of yourself—”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shakes his head, kind of probably in shock, “No, I… I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. I should’ve just… Oh my god.”

He puts his free hand over his face, absolutely mortified. Not about liking Eddie, of course, but because he had stupidly never considered that liking girls didn’t automatically make him unable to like guys.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, and for what, Steve has no idea. She’s just fixed his whole problem—or at least, half the problem. Now he has a crush he has to deal with, and of course Nancy, but at least— “It’s not a bad thing, though. I know it’s a lot to deal with and if you need anything I’m here. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Rob, I’m fine,” Steve assures her, “Other than having a fucking pathetic crush on Eddie.”

Silence.

“So… you’re good with liking guys?” Steve looks up at her, sighing again for what feels like the hundredth time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just I totally could’ve been doing something about it if I had just asked you sooner.”

Robin stares at him.

He stares back.

What, is he supposed to have some sort of breakdown? He’s had all sorts of thoughts about Billy and Tommy and Harrison Ford—of course he likes guys. Of course that’s not a “straight person” thing, he’s not stupid. But if he’d just applied a tiny bit of critical thinking—

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve scoffs, “I could’ve already had, like, eight boyfriends if I had just thought about it. But I’m a fucking meathead.”

The unintentional hilarity of that statement doesn’t miss either of them, but now’s probably not the time.

She stares.

He stares back.

“You astound me, Harrington.”

“Do you think Eddie likes guys?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m—seriously, do you think he likes dudes?”

“I hate that you just said dudes.”

“Robin.”

“How many times has he suggested we watch Rocky Horror?”

“Enough for us to shorten the name.”

“There’s your answer,” she says, still sounding flabbergasted at his nonchalance, “Man, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I cried for forty-eight hours after I realized I liked girls.”

“Do you want me to cry?”

Robin grimaces, “You’re right, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She shakes her head, clearly done with him. It’s uniquely comforting how quickly she can go from a supportive shoulder to a hateful best-friend. He admires that about her, the many facets of her personality that make her, her. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He wishes they had talked in high school, that he could’ve been someone else in those days, especially seeing where being the “coolest guy in town” has really gotten him.

Nowhere, that’s where.

“I love you,” he says. She’s still holding his hand, and she stays holding it.

“I love you, too.”

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #hellfire club #blorbos #soft #we all deserve someone who makes us soft #don’t we? #gay #lgbtq #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb

[imfinereallyy]

Eddie draws on the edge of Steve’s hip, where his shirt rides up from stretching across Eddie’s bed. He’s humming to himself a song Steve doesn’t recognize, but it soothes him.

“What are you drawing?” Steve speaks softly; something about the moment feels gentle. He doesn’t want to break it.

“Hmmm, it’s a secret.” Eddie peaks beneath his bangs and smiles.

Steve leans up on his elbows, “Well, that’s not fair; I think I should know what’s going on my body?”

Eddie only looks at him with mischief as he continues to doodle. “Be grateful, Harrington. You’re getting an original Munson for free.”

Steve can’t help the laugh that escapes him. It is just like Eddie to say something like that. Playful and mean, it makes something settle in Steve. For a long time, he only knows the pain from harsh comments or a sentence with a bite. It is a welcomed change, to feel a bubble of happiness after a light jab.

“Whatever you say, Munson. Just let me see.” Steve tries to push up further to sneak a peek, but Eddie uses his free hand to push him down to the bed. He just happens to catch Steve off guard, sending him into a sprawl that can only be described as a starfish.

“I’m not finished yet.” Eddie grabs his hips and pins him still while he draws. After a few more moments, he says, “Done!”

Steve looks at his work and releases a snort that breaks the careful tension between them. “Are those boobs?”

“Why yes, they are, and a good representation if I say so myself.”

“Do you even know what boobs look like? Like the live version?” Steve knows he should be mad at the sharpie-drawn breasts on his body, but he can’t find it in him to have an angry tone.

“We’ll no. I don’t. And I would much prefer to keep it that way.”

Steve chokes on his spit a little bit, “Did you just come out to me, Eds?”

Steve isn’t sure what he expects. Denial, maybe, Eddie taking back what he said. Steve knows he isn’t handling this right. He doesn’t think Robin would be too happy with his response.

Steve thinks maybe he should see a little bit of fear in Eddie’s demeanor. That shakiness that comes with telling someone a dangerous secret.

What he gets, in the end, isn’t something he could have predicted. Eddie smiles softly, a little bit of his tooth peeking out, and lays his head gently on Steve’s leg. He’s calm and collected. He’s happy, Steve realizes.

“Yea, I guess I did. Not like it was much of a secret, though. Are you upset?” Eddie draws soft circles around the drawing on Steve’s hip—the rough callous on his thumb contradicting his tender touch.

Once again, although the conversation should be anxious, it’s not. Eddie’s question is spoken like he already knows the answer. Maybe he does.

“No, Eddie. I’m not mad. Never would be for that. Just thought it was a funny way of sharing a secret. Though, gotta admit, a very you way of doing it.”

This time Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, before settling back down on Steve’s leg. His giggles never really settled. “Like I said, Stevie wasn’t much of a secret anyway. Well, between us, that is at least. I like to think some, if not all, the kids are oblivious.”

“Erica definitely knows.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in mischief, “Oh, for sure. Pretty sure she would kick the others' asses, too, if they gave me shit for it. And she kicks hard too.”

It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. He’s never had this before, this casualness to serious conversations. Before, Steve is used to screaming and punching, drunken confessions in the bathroom, and throwing up on the mall floor. It isn’t like this, now, with Eddie in his trailer bedroom. It’s good. It’s safe.

“Thank you for telling me, Eds. Something like that is hard to share no matter who you tell it to.”

The softness is back again, “Like I said wasn’t much of a secret. Besides, I don’t think there isn’t any secret of mine you don’t know, Stevie. I think even when I don’t tell you, you kinda already know, don’t you?”

Steve leans one arm forward, while he places his weight on one elbow. He gently takes Eddie’s face in one hand, rubbing circles in the same motion as Eddie’s thumb on his hip.

God, I want to kiss him so bad sometimes, Steve thinks.

“Yea, I already know.”

#steddie #stranger things #I needed something soft #it’s been a long week #they know they love each other but sometimes it’s hard to say #I’m not sure if this makes sense but it made me happy so shush #steve harrington #pre relationship #pre steddie #they are falling in love #Eddie Munson #platonic stobin #only briefly mentioned #Robin Buckley #ficlet #fluff #steddie fluff #my writing #steve x eddie

[hitlikehammers]

feels like home

rating: t ♥️ cw: coming out, softness, recovering from the upside down ♥️ tags: pre-relationship, post-s4, fluff, hurt/comfort, Eddie is having many feelings, the main one being that Steve feels like home, platonic stobbin, supportive platonic soulmates coming out so Eddie feels safe to do the same, injury recovery, still-so-soft

for @steddielovemonth day seventeen: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost (@yournowheregirl)

this definitely takes place chronologically after this one so: have some of these codependent lovebirds as they start to figure their big feelings out ♥️

It’s weird, and probably unhealthy, that his hospital room—like this—feels kinda like home.

But he thinks it’s okay, to be fair, because it’s not like he thinks this place is home; the smell of antiseptic is still pretty sharp in the air even as he’s gotten disconnected from one machine, drip, or monitor every day until he’s largely free to toddle to the bathroom on his own as long as there’s someone to watch and make sure he doesn’t fall. Wayne’s there for that when he can be, which explains the home associations, but: the rest of the time, in fact—kinda more often than it isn’t?

It’s Steve.

And Eddie struck a deal with himself—no digging in to the fluttery-gooey-warm-chest-squeezy feelings while he’s laid up in a bed—but when he walks around even under supervision, it’s…feeling like he’s cheating.

Plus the feelings are getting kinda…kinda loud.

Because Steve is always there, sometimes he ever stays when Wayne comes, at least for a while. He leaves to keep an eye on the Party, leaves to check up on Max, hits the community hub: but it’s…it’s such a blip of time, honestly, in comparison to being here, with Eddie.

And when he’s gone, it doesn’t…it doesn’t feel at all like home, it feels kinda fucking horrible, so.

Eddie doesn’t even actually have to dig in to that train of thought. It’s pretty fucking clear as-is.

He’s surfacing from kind of, like, a light doze, not even a full on nap, and he’s gentle with the coming-to of it because he can kinda, like, feel Steve’s presence at his side and he’s talking really low anyway, even if he couldn’t, so Eddie definitely knows it’s him, and he could have guessed the other visitor pretty easy even if it wasn’t her voice that was the first to bleed through with actual words:

“She’s,” Robin makes a little stifled whine; “you’ve seen her.”

“Not my type but,” Steve’s saying from next to Eddie; “ I see your point, yeah.”

“She’s like a,” Robin’s voice goes kinda hazy, a little dreamy; “like a fairy creature, or! Or like a prairie woman with those, those hats—“

“A prairie woman who likes boobi—“

“Stop!” Robin hisses low, and Eddie can feel her knock his mattress a little, she must lean over like she wants to enforce her will somehow: “stop stop stop—“

“If you can’t say it you probably shouldn’t be touchin—“ Steve’s saying and god, his voice is so bitching, and Eddie think he kinda fucking lov—

Oh. Oh, well. Shit.

“I’m not touching!” Robin moans, but kinda frantic with it; “the problem is I am not touching!”

And Eddie, too, is not touching the thought he just had about those four fucking letters that are, that, that are—

“Also it’s a gross, immature word,” Robin’s going on and…oh.

Oh.

Okay, so like: even if he’s just kinda in that liminal space of awareness, they have to know he’s more awake than not; his two remaining monitors are different even when he’s calm and just resting, but as the words themselves sink in, now? His heartbeat’s betraying the hell out of him for the staccato it’s pinging on the screen as he processes it: Robin’s showing her cards, though Eddie’d always figured she might be a bird of his feather, but, like—

“Is it though?” Steve’s murmuring low and so, so judgmental; “seems more immature to not say it at all,” and he, he fucking tsks at her, then, and, and—

And then—

Then Steve’s saying words that make no sense at all, like: sure they’re words. In English. Eddie’s very sure of it. So that means he should definitely comprehend them. But…

“You should listen to me, Robs, seriously. I do still like boobies, too. I have insights.”

And Eddie—Eddie’s eyes fly open, he thinks out of shock? That makes the most sense, like he’s startled into full-wakefulness, that tracks as he blinks up at the water-stainer ceiling with his heart in his throat as he tries to find sense in those words, fails, tries again, fucking fails, all as the Corsican Twins cackle over word choice, good god, and then—

“Hey.”

Steve’s grabbing his hand at the wrist and covering it so gently, fucking…cradles it and stories his thumb over the insistent tap of his pulse and meets his eyes, so wide and honest and earnest and if Eddie’s heart wasn’t already primed toward racing it sure as shit would have started just with those eyes on him, and that touch on him, and:

“You okay, man?” and it’s so simple, and Eddie doesn’t fucking know what’s happening on his face, what kind of of shock or terror or something deeper still is seeping from his expression but Steve’s studying him, watching for long seconds that stretch for-fucking-everbefore his jaw squares and his head tiles, something resolute shining through in him and he moves so slowly, lifts Eddie’s hand in his so slowly and Eddie doesn’t even wholly clock what’s happening, let alone that it’s real, as Steve fucking pauses their hands by his lips, so Eddie can feel his breath so warm and he watches, then, waits, and Eddie doesn’t think through what it means when he nods, like it’s not actually a legitimate thought, exactly, he just knows that, that—

Whatever’s happening, and however terrified he thinks he is: he can trust Steve.

Because somehow: Steve’s home.

It’s still fucking earth-shattering when Steve does lean, when his lips brush against the heel of Eddie’s palm, still scrape-covered, and then he reaches just as slow again for Eddie’s cheek to cup, to fucking cradle that, too, and Jesus H. Goddamn Christ—

“You’re safe, Eddie,” is all he says and maybe, maybe Eddie’s reading into it way beyond what he should, but like, it doesn’t feel like Steve’s telling him he’s safe maybe from the lingering threads of a nightmare, or that he’s safe from the government, from the cops, or from the Upside Down coming for them because they all know it’s still fucking coming but Eddie has felt scared of it once, yet, not like this, not here, with—

But Steve’s tone doesn’t just hold that: it’s bigger. He means…

They had to know he wasn’t really asleep, and so, Eddie, Eddie thinks Steve means…

Yeah.

Fuck.

“You’re outta water,” Steve’s saying and Eddie didn’t even notice he’d been reading to pour Eddie a glass from the ever-present pitcher at his bedside then he’s standing, his hand leaving and fuck all if Eddie doesn’t lean into it before he can think twice but Steve just smiles, soft, as he walks out the door.

“We talked about it.”

He turns to Robin almost violently, head kinda snapping her direction with the speed and force he moves with.

“We weren’t gonna hide it from you, but like,” she mashes her lips together, Eddie can see she’s trying to find a way forward with the least possible rambling, but the clearest possible throughway so she can get what she needs to say out, before Steve comes back.

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to,” she hums a little; “be that, you know, open? With us, if you don’t want to,” her eyes are so big and sincere, and Eddie’s pulse is steadying if only slowing by a fraction, but she does help put him at ease, even as she trips a little over the rest: “if you had any thing that was, y’know, kinda private or, something,” she nods to herself and plays with the hem of her shirt: “yeah.”

Eddie nods to himself, and…he can’t, he can’t not ask her, not in this window, because she said they’d talked and if this wasn’t part of it she loves Steve fierce and he could be still a little fresh off death’s door, she’ll still tell him to fuck off if she needs to, so at least there’s that, at least he knows, like, he won’t be allowed to step where he’s not welcome, and—

“I’m,” and fuck, his voice is a mess, he does need a fucking drink but in the absence of one at hand, he clears his throat hard and accepts that consequences of it burning like hell; “he, umm,” Eddie bits his lip and gestures toward the empty door, eyes Robin kinda pitifully: “he said—“

Robin, thank fuck: Robin is merciful, has to see where he’s going, here, and she points to the doorway indicative of who isn’t in it, yet:

“Very both,” she says simply, then point to herself: “very…”

“Boobies?” Eddie suggests and Robin, she just groans.

“Not you too,” and…okay, shit, umm, well—

Eddie… maybe Eddie can be brave. Like, in small doses.

“Actually, ah, I,” he stumbled but then he makes himself take a breath, makes himself try:

“No, not me too,” he says in a rush and looks up at her through his lashes, so fucking vulnerable: “like, very specifically not, me too.”

And she smiles at him so warm and…like, almost welcoming, which is weird but feels, nice? And she pats his arm kinda affectionately and, just—

“Did you decide to take me up on my wisdom so we can actually accept she’s almost definitely into you, and move on to planning your wedding?” Steve slides back in and shuts the door behind him, getting to pouring Eddie some water before he even sits the fuck down.

His fingers brush Eddie’s as he passes it off and, it probably shouldn’t make Eddie all tingly, Steve did kinda kiss his hand? Like, a little?

But that don’t mean shit: Eddie’s all pins and needles and, like, sparkles.

“He’s the only help you’ve got here, Buckley,” Eddie screws his courage up one more time because…because Steve needs to know, too; Eddie wouldn’t put Robin in the position of not knowing whether she can tell her platonic soulmate something, make her keep a secret even by implication but so much bigger that that is, are—

All the things he doesn’t want to poke at, or dig up and examine, that he’s dodging on the excuse of convalescence: all those things taken into account: he trusts Steve. He feels…so much for Steve already, and he feels weirdly sure that whatever happens next, those feelings are only gonna find ways to grow, so—

Steve has to know, not just because Eddie thinks he suspects it, but because Eddie tells him—because it’s….’cause it’s Steve.

“Feels like it’d be foolish not to take the man up on the offer when he’s definitely the expert in the room,” Eddie pushes on, awkward but determined; “seeing as I don’t, umm, know about,” and his eyes flicker to Robin for a second, before they land on Steve to finish:

“About boobies.”

And Steve does say anything, doesn’t look any way save how he’d looked before: calm, and mostly-relaxed, and right next to Eddie, and Eddie’s eyes drop from Steve’s face and find the collar of his shirt, the peak of hair from in between and, shit, shit, he’s talking about tits and then there’s Steve’s chest hair and holy fucking wow he is staring:

“Umm, I mean,” and fucking fuck, now he’s talking—

“Like, not that kind, at least,” and then he forces his eyes down to the sheets over his lap and considers if it’s possible to dissolve into cotton if it’s startchy and uncomfortable as shit, and you happen to be mortified enough to sink into the fucking threads.

But then; then there’s Steve.

Because of fucking course there’s Steve.

And Steve?

Steve takes his cup from him when he could easily have leaned to put it down himself, but then Steve replaces the cup in Eddie’s grip with his own warm hand, like a tether, like a lifeline, like a…

Like a promise.

And when the conversation turns toward strategizing Robin’s approach for Vickie, Eddie’s, he, he just…

He’s home, y’know?

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

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #hurt/comfort #pining #coming out #pre-relationship #softness #as in: I might have gone harder than even I normally go on the softness here #platonic stobin #post-S4 #recovering eddie musnon #steve feels like HOME to eddie #they HOLD HANDS #there is HAND KISSING in fact #they are SO SOFT #steddielovemonth #love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don't get lost #stranger things

[italiansteebie]

he tried it once already.

"hey stevie! wanna hang out sometime? maybe catch a movie?"

"sure, sounds great, ed's!"

it was a date, he'd planned it all himself! so why was steve telling him about the cute person he saw the other day?

he tries again, maybe the first date wasn't good enough and that was steve's way of telling him.

"steve! uhm. can we try again? how about we go on a picnic?"

and steve looks confused, but he agrees happily anyways. "awh! a picnic sounds great ed! i'll be there."

eddie thinks this is it, but the day after the picnic dustin is at family video, pestering steve about how he needs to start dating again. and he deflates when steve sighs "i know, no one wants to take me out though!" and shrugs, and eddie has to hold in the "hey!" that wants to come out of his mouth.

robin must notice this internal struggle because she pulls him into the back. "dude, what gives?"

"i've been on TWO dates with him, rob! TWO!"

and robin sighs, "have you told him they're dates?"

eddie blanches. "what?"

"he thinks you want to hang out just as friends."

"i've held his hand though!"

"we literally share a bed eddie. just tell him straight up!"

eddie sighs.

that wasn't apart of his plan.

#steve harrington #stranger things #robin buckley #eddie munson #steddie #autistic steve harrington #autistic steve : ) #best friends steve and robin #platonic soulmates stobin #soft steddie #steddie ficlet

[steddieas-shegoes]

Nother Idea: Steve has a really bad migraine when he sees his parents for the first time post spring break from hell. He is still recovering from his injuries & his parsnts don't know how to help him. He is in tears begging his father or mother to get him Rob or Eds. And they have no clue who that is. The other parent finds a note by the main house phone and one by his bedroom phone with the names Robin & Eddie with their numbers. And they watch their adult son get coddled by a lesbian and a metalhead. Bsjsjcjdjd maybe they find out about the UD???

I TOOK A BREAK FROM PLANNING OUR WEDDING FOR THIS MY LOVE!!! You know how I feel about migraine Steve and you know how I feel about some good old hurt/comfort and how I feel about Steve's parents just being shitty always. It's like you wrote this request from MY BRAIN. It's a bit shorter than I could've done, but I am rushing out the door at this point and wanted to have it posted today in case I can't tonight. Hope you love it!!! - Mickala ❤️

-------------------------------------------------------

Luck was never on Steve’s side.

He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in weeks, his brain and body constantly running through checklists of things he had to do and people he needed to check on.

It was catching up with him in the form of the worst migraine he’s had in months.

And now his parents were home.

He could hear them talking downstairs, their voices carrying and making Steve wince against his pillow.

He managed to close his curtains when he got up to use the bathroom this morning, but hadn’t managed to do anything else. Including close his door.

He hadn’t really expected that to be an issue since he was alone all the time.

His parents hadn’t been home in nearly six months. They hadn’t even bothered to call when the “earthquake” hit.

He kept his eyes closed in hopes that they wouldn’t bother him, maybe they’d even close his door for him if they thought he was asleep.

Wishful thinking.

His dad’s booming voice was suddenly right next to him, echoing around his room and his head.

“It’s the middle of the damn day, Anne! He can’t sleep his life away!”

Steve let out a groan, burying his head as far into his pillows as he could to avoid some of the noise.

His father would give up eventually, probably call him something terrible, be disappointed, the usual. But he’d leave, and Steve could bask in the peace and quiet again.

“Do you hear me, Steven? Anne, he’s ignoring me!”

Steve groaned again as he heard his mother’s voice from the doorway.

“Richard, he’s clearly hungover. We should come back later.”

Steve loved that idea. If they left, he could try to sleep this migraine off.

“I’m not just leaving him! He has to act like a responsible adult someday, Anne. We don’t pay for this house for him to spend his days hungover in it.”

“Not hungover.”

Steve’s voice was muffled against the pillow, his head pounding with every movement of his lips, but he knew he had to at least try to stick up for himself.

“So you’re just a useless sack in the middle of the day on a Thursday for no reason, then?”

Steve let out a whine at the sharp pains shooting through his head.

“Eddie. Call?”

Words were hard when your head was trying to implode on itself.

“Who is Eddie? Is that the person who got you drunk? I will not be calling this Eddie person, and I expect you to be up, showered, and dressed by the time we are back from our business dinner. Do you understand?”

“Robin.”

“Isn’t that your girlfriend? Is she responsible for this?”

Steve wanted to scream that the people responsible for this were dead or Russian spies who were hopefully dead and no thanks to either of his parents, he often spent days like this.

Not as often since he practically had Robin and Eddie living with him, but enough.

“No. Eddie.”

“Eddie isn’t your girlfriend.” Anne was closer now. “Do you need medical attention? You’re not making any sense. Oh goodness, Richard, maybe he’s having a stroke.”

His side was pulsing. Eddie said his did too sometimes, a casual reminder that they’d been nearly eaten alive. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad as his head, though.

He needed to get to his phone so he could call Eddie.

Eddie knew what to do to help. He wouldn’t be scared of his parents.

Just as he started to move his head so he could try to roll out of bed, he heard his mom speak again, much lower, probably directly to his dad.

He had extremely sensitive hearing when he had migraines, though, so he could still hear what she was saying.

“This note has those names with phone numbers. Maybe we should call them?”

“It’s just a hangover. He has to man up.”

“It just seems like more than a hangover. He’s in real pain.”

“You do what you want. Coddle him if you must. I have a business dinner to get ready for.”

He heard his father leave the room, but didn’t bother moving.

His mom was suddenly talking into the phone.

“Is this Eddie? Yes, this is Anne Harrington. Steve’s mom, yes. He had your number written down by the phone. He’s asking for you and he seems to be quite hungover. It’s not? Oh. Oh. Okay. Well, could you come keep an eye on him, then? I would appreciate it. I could pay you.” Steve heard yelling on the other end and tried to smirk, but his face was in too much pain. “Okay, see you soon.”

“Steve? Eddie’s coming. He didn’t want any money or anything to sit with you, but I’ll leave some on the counter just in case.”

“Loves me.”

“What was that?”

Steve turned his head to the side so he could say it again, emphasize to his mother that people actually loved him.

“He loves me.”

He was met with silence, but he was happy about it, his head still finding new ways to hurt even after 100 migraines.

His mom left the room, but he knew Eddie was coming, so he rested.

When he woke up, Robin’s hands were in his hair. She was gently combing through it, from scalp to ends, being careful to avoid any tangles that may have been hiding.

“Robs.”

“Hey Dingus,” she whispered, knowing he couldn’t handle normal talking voices when it was this bad. “Gave Eds and I quite a scare having your mom call, you know.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Eddie?”

“He’s downstairs giving your parents the riot act while he unloads groceries. He’s pissed.”

“At me?”

“No, never you. He’s got your extra strength pain meds that you were out of though.”

Steve had forgotten to get more last time he went to the store and he admittedly wouldn’t be this bad off if he had them ready to go when he woke up this morning.

But Eddie always took care of him and Robin always took care of him, and he was allowed to not have to do everything for himself anymore.

“It’s like you don’t even care that he’s hurt because of fucking government conspiracies!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Robin’s hand froze as they listened to Eddie and his dad go back and forth.

“The Russians almost killed him! Where were you? Not fucking here! The monsters almost killed him! Where were you? Probably on a business trip or whatever it is you rich fucks like to do with your time that should be spent checking in on your son.”

“Oh boy,” Robin slowly started to get up, causing Steve to whimper. “I’m gonna send him up here to cool off. Just breathe.”

So he did. He breathed in, then out, in, then out.

He did that until he felt Eddie’s hands in his hair, lips on his forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered against his hair. “Brought you some water and meds.”

“Yelling?”

“They deserve it. But don’t worry about that right now. Just take these pills and sleep. I got ya.”

“Got me.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, always got you.”

He could hear Robin yelling downstairs now, but he didn’t focus on it, following Eddie’s advice and sitting up just enough to swallow the pills and half a glass of water.

As he fell asleep, he heard Robin whispering to Eddie.

“He’s got us, at least.”

“Yeah, he does.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steve's parents suck #migraine steve again i know okay #but it's just so gd good #soft and protective eddie #soft and protective robin #requests

[estrellami-1]

Soft Touch Baby

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Eddie’s POV | Song | ao3

They’re on the couch, credits rolling on the muted TV, when Steve decides fuck it and finally says something.

“Robs,” Steve starts quietly, “I think I might have a problem.” He hears her shift on the couch, put her can down.

“Okay.”

“So, I…” he sighs. “You’re gonna hate me for this.”

“It would be very, very hard for me to hate you, Steve,” she says, just as quietly. He swallows the lump in his throat.

“So… I kinda need to preface this by saying that… I think I like guys, too?”

“Steven Harrington the Third,” she starts, because she knows it annoys him, “did you just come out to me?”

“I’m not a third. And my name’s not Steven, Robs, c’mon.”

“Steve.”

“Yes.”

She takes a breath. “Okay. And this is not the problem you have?”

“No.” He cracks a smile. “Kinda hard, with all the shit we’ve seen. That part just kinda makes sense.”

She snorts in agreement. “Okay, so what is your problem?”

Steve looks anywhere but at her. “Okay, so… have you ever been touching someone, and it… it wasn’t even a thing, right, just casual touching, like everybody does, except you can’t stop thinking about it?”

Robin sighed the sigh of the long-suffering best friend. “And would the person in question happen to be a guy you have a crush on?”

“I don’t know.” Even without looking, he knows she’s raising a brow at him. “I don’t, I swear! Maybe? I just… I’m just me, and he’s so…” he waves a hand around, trying to find words. “Him,” he lands on inadequately.

Robin sighs again. “You’ve got a crush, Steve.”

“Okay, but… but the touch? Shouldn’t it… not affect me like that?”

He can tell she’s studying him, and he shifts slightly. “Give me your hand.”

He looks up at her in surprise, noticing her hand out, fingers wiggling impatiently. He places his hand in hers, muffling a surprised noise when she pulls him on top of her and wraps her arms around him. “What are you doing?”

“Testing something.” She shifts, wiggling until they’re both laying down.

“Am I not crushing you?”

She gives him a dry look. “I’ll live.”

He rolled his eyes. “Robs, c’mon, what’re you doing?”

“Toldja. Testing something.” She squirms when his fingers poke her sides. “Jesus, fine. How do you feel?”

Steve blinks. “Um. Fine?”

“Oh my god, Steve. The touching. How does the touching make you feel?”

He considers it, moves so he can sit up, and immediately misses her arms around him. He collapses back onto her. “Okay, yeah.”

She laughs even as she wraps her arms back around him. “Pretty sure you’re touch-starved, dingus.”

“Then why can’t I stop thinking about him?”

“Because you’re touch-starved and have a crush. Is he someone you can do something about?”

He blinks. “What?”

“Can you, like, tell him? Would he be weird about it?”

Steve snorts. “He’s always weird. But… no. I think he’d be okay with it. Or, maybe not me having a crush on him, but he’d be fine with me liking guys.”

“Okay. Is there a chance he’d ever reciprocate it?”

Steve almost joked about a cold day in hell before remembering weirder things happened. “Maybe. I guess. I don’t know.”

“Is it someone I know?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it… hm. Have you known him for a while?”

“Not very long. Not as long as I’d like to.”

“God, you have it bad. Okay. Anything you can tell me about him?”

“He’s a nerd.”

“That describes half the kids, Steve.”

He pretends to gag at the thought. “It’s definitely not one of the kids.”

She giggles. “Okay, so he’s a nerd. What else?”

He groans and buries his face in her neck. “What do you want me to say, Robs? That he’s so good and wears his heart on his sleeve and is so loud and… and excited and most of it is armor because if people are gonna call him weird then he’s gonna lean into it, and he cares for the kids so much, and-”

“Steve,” Robin says carefully. “Are you talking about Eddie Munson?”

Steve squirms. “Maybe?” She flicks his back. He sighs. “Yes.”

Robin begins to laugh. “Steve, this is gonna be such a good thing.”

Pt 2

#steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #platonic stobin #stranger things #soft touch baby #someone help I don’t know what I’m doing #star posts about things she knows nothing about

[strawberryspence]

i love touchy stobin so much. just hugging, clinging, cuddling. they’re basically glued together. my favorite platonic soulmates. literally two halves of one whole finally finding their other half, and they just won’t let go. 🥺

#dae soft hours LOL #stobin rants #stobin #platonic stobin

[stobinesque]

im surprised how unevenly split the votes are in the wip game so I request another stobin-bo-bobin snippet please!

(im sorry i can never remember their names ik its the one with the finament? filament? vaguely long word with f and that's all my brain needs to recognize it. if its any consolation i don't even call my own fic by its name zkgxgkxmgd)

firmament! (it means "heavens" / the cosmos).

I'm a little stuck on it right now, but I have gotten almost 2k down in the past couple days! I got a total of *slowly counts through inbox* 9 asks (@theheadlessphilosopher sent two over the course of both weeks!), so I'm gonna do *does math* 18-ish lines! And tagging @delta-piscium @steves-strapcollection @bifuriouswaterbender @spicysix @inairbinad and @starryeyedjanai!

SNIPPET

(below a cut for post brevity; also, cw for sleep paralysis)

What if it’s back? What if it never left? What if it has Steve? Because apparently possession was totally on the table in their lives.

“Steve? Steve! Can you hear me? You’ve gotta wake up.”

His eyes stutter open like he’s being dragged to wakefulness. Hazel eyes stare back at her; unadulterated panic glinting in them. The small whines and groans he’d been making shift into muffled humming, like someone trying to talk through a gag. Like he’s trying to say something, but can’t form his mouth into words.

Robin is seconds away from grabbing the phone off her nightstand and calling anyone and everyone who might be able to help—wishing she had a walkie instead to radio out an all-purpose Code Red—when the dam breaks, and Steve sucks in a giant gasp of air and jerks upright like he’s surfacing from underwater.

“Steve! Steve, are you okay? Are you there?” She’s gripping his shoulder so tight that her nails are biting into flesh, but she can’t loosen her hold on him because if she lets go, he’ll float away.

“Couldn’t—” he gasps out. “Couldn’t move.” He’s nearly hyperventilating; chest heaving as he sucks in big gulps of air like he’s just been drowning. “Tied up. Frozen. I can’t—.” He bites out each word like it hurts to speak. “Robs, I can’t—” He collapses into her chest with a sob.

#stobin #platonic stobin #also dani you're literally always allowed to blow up my notifs 💜 #also i promise there will be softness and dancing in this fic #there will just also be trauma and angst #read writes #also lmao the vote share really turned around from when this ask was sent <3

[corrodedcoughin]

So I saw a tweet today that said it can take up to twenty years between being bitten and showing symptoms of rabies and it sent me imagining Robin spending the next twenty years watching Steve obsessively for any symptoms because like Steve, once the symptoms show you’re too late, and Steve is just like pls let me rest Robin

Anyway happy Thursday wanted to share w you

Xoxo clawnon

Clawnon you have got to stop coming into my inbox with these absolute bangers that put my brain offline for 2-3 hours! (Please don’t, I’d miss you too much)

Robin religiously buys calendars every year and marks the anniversary of the bites so that she can keep a track of the 20 year time scale. It’s the first thing that goes on her calendar no matter what. When she does to uni and gets a personal planar it’s the first thing she puts in there too.

Nobody knows what ‘R.C’ stands for in her calendar when they get a flash of it and Robin certainly isn’t going to tell them it’s for ‘rabies check’ so she makes something up every time. Her favourite so far is ‘rapture cancelled’ the looks she got for that one was particularly memorable considering it was church leader who asked her when she was at one of her grandparents annual fundraisers.

The day of the 20th anniversary she phones Steve at the exact time (or as far as she can remember) of the bites and asks ‘any symptoms?’ Just like she has for the past twenty years. Steve contemplated putting on a show of spitting and gurgling over the phone but just goes with ‘no symptoms dr Bobbi’. Robin put the phone down and let’s put a breath she’s been holding for far too long

#Clawnon #idk where I was going with this I’m sorry #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #I’ll let you into a secret. I wasn’t going to answer this because I just got my first mean comment about my writin on the internet #turns out I AM too soft for this #so I was actually contemplating just silently reblogging things because lol ya boy can’t write and everyone knows it #but I couldn’t be rude and not answer Clawnon!!! #so as bad as this is thank you for giving me a solid wonderful idea only for me to sneeze all over it 🥲 #nah but fr your ideas are always so good so thank you

[wynnyfryd]

thinking about how robin probably would’ve gotten vecna’d so hard if not for steve’s friendship and constant presence in her life

#the super anxious closeted lesbian in small town indiana?? #vecna superfood #imagine her sitting alone on the bus every morning feeling guilty and sad about her crush on a straight girl #because steve isn’t around to give her rides every morning #oops i made myself sad #just feeling very soft and squishy feelings about their platonic soulmate status #like everyone always talks about how good robin was for steve but steve is so good for robin too #they need each other #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic with a capital p #stranger things

[shares-a-vest]

Platonic Stobin Month, Day 25: Pool

"Come on!"

Steve stares at Robin’s wiggling fingers coaxing him onto the first step into the pool. He flits a glance to her smiling and welcoming face, regretting this whole situation.

It reminds him of his swimming teacher at Hawkins Public Pool when he was four and his dad first took him to the Little Kickers swimming group. Robin even has his former swimming teacher’s hair colour. It also (and perhaps more awkwardly) makes Steve think about his mother doing the very same thing: beckoning him into the pool when his parents built the house and first moved in when he was seven.

He looks up at the late afternoon sky, the thin, sporadic clouds moving quickly over them as the sun gradually moves lower. He crosses his arms over his bare chest and looks at his best friend.

"Come on," she repeats, adding a gentle splash this time as she moves down one more step.

"Nah," he says, drawing out his protest as he shakes his head. "Maybe tomorrow?"

He takes one step back as Robin huffs and splashes a frustrated fist through the water.

"Steve!"

He’s sure he looks like he did his first day at Little Kickers and again when he was scared of his expansive new backyard at seven. And yeah sure, he’s willing to admit he feels the same way he did both those times - even if he entirely regrets the whole reason his new best friend is now involved in getting him into his own damn pool.

In Robin finding out all about the Upside Down, superpowers and government conspiracies, she inevitably asked for Steve to slow it all down and start from the beginning.

The beginning for him being Barb Holland’s disappearance.

From his own backyard.

By being sucked into the Upside Down via the drainpipe in this very pool.

So yeah, Steve is now stuck being as scared as his four and seven year-old past selves about venturing into his temperature-controlled pretty-rich-boy pool. And he feels completely pathetic about it.

"Please?" Robin begs, holding out her hand once again as water drips from it. "We have to get this fear over and done with before summer."

She is right. Summer means hot days, heatwaves and a hoard of selfish gremlins treating his house like it’s their own personal rec centre. Mike even brings his own boombox, while Lucas and Dustin drag along enough pool toys to open their own aquatic centre.

Yes, he’d gone through this before, retreating into the house with the cover of making snacks (which in turn, has led him to being the chief provider of food to seven mooching teenagers). A cover that worked well enough until the kids insisted on staying late in the dog days of the summer of '85 where he’d be forced to go out at night after they had all left in order to clean up before his oblivious parents got home (if they’d ever come home, that is).

He breathes in and holds his breath as he steps towards Robin, tip-toeing as he goes - partly because he thinks a delicate approach will work, but mostly due to the warm concrete.

"Yay!" Robin claps (once again sounding like both his swim teacher and his mom) as he takes a tentative step into the pool, the water immediately cooling his feet and fuck, he’d forgotten how nice this pool’s water feels on his permanently-hot skin.

Robin reaches out both arms as she steps down onto the shallow pool floor, wiggling her fingers and smiling with glee as he reaches her.

Prompt List

#i lied this isn't a sequel to the 24th #instead i wrote this soft angsty ficlet #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic with a capital p #platonic stobin #stobinmonth #stranger things ficlet #platonic soulmates #steve and robin #stobin 🍨

[imfinereallyy]

celebrate softly

it my birthday today so here’s a lil gift from me to you (yes I know that’s not how this works haha) I made a bunch of little things is celebration, i probably won’t post these till later in the day so sorry if you get a bunch at once.

Steve wanted to like his birthday.

No, really, he truly did. He knew that birthdays were the one time of year you get to be a little selfish. The people you loved gathered around you to celebrate another year of you.

It was just that Steve was also used to disappointment.

Over the years, his birthday has consisted of either his parents parading him around at business dinners or the empty silence of a house that wasn’t ever a home.

His old friends were never around. It was a holiday weekend; he didn’t expect them to stick around. Even if they had, Steve was almost sure they would have made him throw a party, where they would have pressured him to get drunk and sleep with someone, and…

Yea, Steve wasn’t interested.

The one birthday he spent with Nancy had been okay. She had to go on a family trip, her parents attempt at getting their kids to cheer up over the loss of their friends, and she was going to leave the morning of his birthday. But at midnight of July 2nd, she had snuck into his window even though she could have walked through the front door. Nancy had brought him a cupcake, a small present, and a soft smile. Steve had wanted to kiss her, but he knew it wasn’t what she wanted then. He wanted to be respectful, so he held her hand instead.

Nancy hadn’t brought a candle, said she didn’t want to risk burning the Harrington Household down. Steve had laughed, saying that would be the best birthday present ever, but she hadn’t laughed back.

The present had been a book. Which wasn’t a terrible gift per se, Steve liked reading it was just he had difficulty doing it. He couldn’t focus long enough, or he would have to reread sentences over and over again.

It just didn’t feel worth the frustration.

But it was sweet of her to get him something, so he tried reading it. It took him months to finish it, even though it was small. It was boring, and Steve had found the main character whiny, and Steve had begun to wonder if Nancy was trying to tell him something.

Then the Upside Down round two had happened, Steve got his ass kicked again and learned that Catcher in the Rye was Jonathan’s favorite book.

Steve had thrown out the book amongst his bloody bandages.

Steve was only slightly hopeful to have a good birthday last year. He had good friends (sure, one was his ex, and the other were children, but he still counted them); Dustin would be home from camp, and even though he had work, he got to spend the whole day bothering Robin, which brought him a special kind of joy.

But then they were cracking Russian code, getting tortured, and watching Max’s Stepbrother die, all within the days of his birthday.

So Steve didn’t have high expectations this year. Sure, people knew it was his birthday, it was hard to hide when he was friends with the nosiest people, but most of them were spending the entire weekend staying with Max, and he would have been too if Max hadn’t thrown a remote at him when he suggested it.

So Steve had conceded to having a quiet but lonely July 2nd.

But then at 7 am there was a knock on his front door.

A knock was putting it lightly, there was pounding echoing in the Harrington Household.

When Steve walked up to the door, he was prepared to drive away some bigots who had been trying to “repent Hawkins.” They had been going around the richer neighborhoods recently, saying we needed to clean up the streets of the sinners and the queers.

Yea, they were knocking on the wrong door.

Steve hadn’t expect Eddie Munson, notorious night owl, to be crowding his doorway at 7 am.

“Harrington, have I ever told you how absolutely ugly your house is? Like for how wealthy your parents are, they chose an absolute nightmare of a layout! It makes no sense.” Eddie budged his way past Steve with his arms full of bags.

“I’ve been telling him that for a year, Eddie, and every time he just shrugs!” Steve turned to find Robin bullying her way through him as well. She had a handful of videos in her hands.

“Sure, come in, I guess,” Steve mumbled. He shut the door and turned toward his intruders. “Not that I don’t love a surprise appearance at—“ Steve checked his watch “—7:03 am, but is there a reason why you are awake before the birds are even chirping?”

Eddie snorted and just gave him a look instead of answering. Robin shook her head, “What doofus hear is trying to convey with a noise, Jesus Eds, I know you’re not a morning, but words please, is that we are obviously here for your birthday. You, Steven Alison Harrington—“

“Not my middle name.”

“—we’re born at exactly 7:07 am on July 2nd. So we had to be here to say happy birthday officially!”

“How do you even know the time? I don’t even know that.”

“She snuck a look at your file last time Owen’s was in town.” Eddie smirked.

Robin hit him upside the head, “Don’t tell him that asshole, he already thinks I’m crazy enough. And don’t act like this wasn’t your idea!”

Eddie rubbed the back his head in dramatic fashion then yelled, “Snitch!” through hissed teeth.

Steve felt himself unthaw at the idea that these two weirdos woke up this early for him. “Ah, well, thanks, guys.” A blush rose on his cheeks, “Well, thanks for stopping by; you guys can go home and sleep if you want.”

“Stevie, did you think we brought all this to just leave? On your birthday. Oh no, no, no. We are having a whole movie and snack day! I brought weed, and chips, and we can order a pizza later in the day. And just be lazy weirdos in your fancy living room.” Eddie hopped up on his coffee table, startling a laugh from Steve.

“That sounds like a typically Friday for us, what’s so special about it?” Steve teased.

“Well we brought all of your favorite movies! Grease, Top Gun, Karate Kid, Indiana Jones...wait I think I'm noticing a theme here—“

“Robin!” Steve screeched, his blush coming back with vengeance. He didn’t want her to reveal there very obvious, and embarrassing pattern to his favorite films.

“And!” Eddie said from atop his place on the coffee table, unfazed by the two of them, “We are paying for the pizza.” His voice oozed with pride at that. Steve was sure he had come up with the idea.

“Wow I’m a spoiled prince. Maybe ever think I wanted to stay in bed?” Steve raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh but my sweet prince, we know you rather spend this glorious day with us.” Eddie was confident, with confidence came the damn nicknames, and Jesus Christ—this blush of his was never going away. “Besides what else could you wish for!”

A kiss from you. Steve thought quickly.

Steve sighed deeply before saying, “Alright. Get down.”

Eddie seemed taken aback, like he hadn’t expected the rejection. “Oh yea man, of course. We will get out of your hair.” He scrambled off the table.

Steve giggled, “No Eds. I’m moving the coffee table. This couch is a pullout. We can all just lay on it while we watch movies.”

Eddie’s face lit up while Robin yelled, “Oh thank god, I’m exhausted.”

An hour later, when the sun was still barely risen and Grease blared in the background, Robin was bundled up in the blankets they dragged from his room, out like a light.

Eddie and Steve huddled close, but didn’t touch. The anticipation and want sat between them. “I actually have something for you.” Eddie whispered.

Robin snored beside them; Steve looked at her fondly. “You don’t have to whisper; she’s a heavy sleeper. Learned that the hard way.”

“Ah well, I have a present for you.”

Steve knows he should say that Eddie shouldn’t have, or insist he returns it. He knew it was the polite thing to do. He couldn’t find it in himself to do it, though. The idea that Eddie even thought to get him something beyond the amazing day they had planned (truly Steve couldn’t ask for a better day), but Eddie had spent his time to get something for Steve.

It was nice to have someone who would do something nice for you just because they can, not because they should. So, Steve waited patiently as Eddie reached into his bag beside the couch.

“Here.” Eddie spoke, placing the roughly wrapped package in his lap.

There was a tiny notecard with Eddie’s chicken scratch on it; Steve decided to read that first.

Stevie,

No adventure is the same without you, and this is the only one I have taken without you by my side. Thought it was about time we changed that. Hopefully we are not forever partners in crime (we’ve had enough of that) but instead, adventurers taking on then great unknown.

Together.

Yours,

Eddie Munson ッ

Steve smoothed over the card and tried not to cry. The poorly drawn smiley face stared up at him from the piece of parchment. Steve tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping; he might even frame it.

Eddie looked at Steve eagerly as he tried to open the package. He does it slowly to tease Eddie; his frustrated little growl made butterflies in Steve’s stomach.

Inside the package is a worn-out book, one he would recognize anywhere, considering he saw it every day on Eddie’s bookshelf. “Eds, this is your copy of Lord of the Rings. I can’t take this.”

Eddie put his hair in front of his mouth, suddenly shy, “Well, it wouldn’t be exactly yours. It’s just I thought it would be fun to, ya know, read it together? Like we take turns reading to each other. I know the kids always bug you to read it, and I noticed that it’s hard for you to focus sometimes, and I get that, so it might be easier if we like make it a thing? I know it’s probably not your interest; it’s my favorite book, not yours, so you know what? This is stupid—“

Steve cut him off by pulling him into a hug. Steve buried himself into Eddie’s neck before saying, “Thank you. It’s the best birthday present.”

“Really?” Eddie pulled back to look at Steve’s face. Whatever he found there must settle him, because he relaxed his shoulders. “I know it’s silly, but I guess I wanted to share this piece of myself with you…and maybe spend some more time together.”

Steve didn’t mention how they spent almost every day together, didn’t think he had to either. They both knew.

Steve decided to be bold instead. He pushed Eddie back into the couch and settled his back into Eddie’s chest. He snuggled into the warmth of his arms.

Steve put the book in Eddie’s hand. “Okay, you read first.”

Eddie laughed; Steve could feel the vibrations from under his skin. It was delightful; it was delicious. “Oh, you want to start now?”

Steve made an indignant noise while Eddie laughed again at him. His hands settled at the back of Steve’s neck as he played with hair that brushed it.

“When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventyifirst birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was …”

And once again, hours later, when Steve woke up, after drifting to Eddie’s soft, deep voice, Steve felt something settle in him. He felt Eddie lightly snoring beneath him, one hand still tangled in his hair. He felt Robin’s hand wrapped around his ankle, grounding the both of them. And there, between all of them, was the fallen book with no bookmark, signaling they would have to start again.

Maybe, sometimes. Steve thinks, birthdays could be good.

***

projecting. projecting. projecting. that’s me.

I hope you guys liked this one :) I did use my own bday for him, but the time he was born at is different than mine lol. I had a lot of fun writing it, it was just the softness I needed.

#steddie #people deserve soft birthdays #especially Steve #he just wants to snuggle #eddie munson #robin buckley #steve harrington #my writing #stranger things #platonic stobin #lord of the rings #soft boys #pre steddie #pre relationship #fluff #domestic fluff #stobin #bisexual Steve Harrington #birthday blues #ficlet #steve x eddie

[luxeberries]

now on ao3

One of the first things Steve noticed about Robin - aside from her cute, choppy haircut and witty personality - was her painted nails. The day they met, Steve's first day at Scoops Ahoy, Robin's nails were this shimmery blue tone that shifted to purple in the light of the backroom. He thought it was pretty. He found his eyes lingering on it when her hand was wrapped around the scooper.

Steve learned a lot about Robin while slinging ice-cream at her side, but one thing he learned was that she liked painting her nails; she had a new colour every week because she either got bored of it or picked the polish off. Steve learned, just from looking at her nails each week, that Robin had a small yet extensive collection of colours - all in different finishes and colour families - and Steve is pretty sure he saw every single one of them in those months of working with her.

After the mall burned down, after signing fresh, new NDAs that Steve couldn't even skim but Robin read through entirely - if only to give herself something other than fleshy-goop monsters and bone saws to focus on - he and Robin started hanging out all the time. They went to diners together, watched movies at the Hawk, went on walks. The colour of Robin's nails continued to change, more frequently now.

After two sleepless nights in his own quiet, cold house, Steve decided he had enough. He didn't have to be alone this time around and the idea that Robin was going through the same thing made his skin itch, so he snuck into her bedroom window and she pulled him in with open arms. Bullied him into the bed instead of sleeping on the floor. Still, they didn't sleep. They huddled close under the blankets, under the soft glow of Robin's lamp, wide awake and afraid of the nightmares, and they talked. Like little girls on a sleepover, they shared secrets big and small - things they never admitted to anyone else.

Two days into this routine, Robin pulled out her box of nail polishes, having admitted that painting her nails distracts her mind enough to finally calm down for a little bit. Steve sat at her side and looked through them all, helping her pick a colour and confirming that he had indeed seen every single colour on her nails before.

Except for one.

She told him, "I like pink, but pink nails is a little too girly for me. My mom gave me it, though, so."

It was the colour of girls' lipgloss; bubblegum pink. It was bright and bold and soft all at once. Steve liked it. Steve had always liked the colour pink, pretended that he didn't. "Yellow," he'd answer to that essential question seven year olds ask each other on the playground. "Yellow is my favourite colour," he'd lie.

It must have shown on his face or in the way he still hadn't put the little pink bottle away because then, Robin, who was uncapping a dark, shimmery green, said in a carefully casual tone, "How about I paint your nails?" And then, seeing Steve's hesitation, added, "I have nail polish remover. We can take it off before breakfast tomorrow."

And there was something about the cover of night, the lamp washing Robin's room in a soft yellow glow, and Robin's gentle tone that made Steve feel safe enough to say yes.

They shifted to sit opposite each other, crossed legs touching at the knees, and Robin set her pretty green aside to take the bubblegum pink from him.

Steve's heart raced and he felt a little bit sick. Painting his nails was one thing, but painting them pink? It was starting to get to him.

But then Robin took his hand and moved the little brush close to his nail and Steve jumped away for an entirely different reason.

Where do you work? How did you find us?

More lies.

Memories of sterile basements, beady-eyed interrogators, and a Russian doctor wielding pliers flashed in Steve's mind. The next thing he knew he was on the floor, breath coming heavy and fast, eyes darting around the room as he searched for dangers that weren't there. Robin's voice was drowned out by the ringing in his ears he was beginning to think wasn't normal.

Then, a hand on his arm. With chipped, purple nail polish at the cuticles.

"Steve." Her voice was clearer now. He could hear the sheer worry in it, the slight tremble to it. "Steve, it's okay. It's okay, you're with me. We're safe. You're safe. You're okay."

Later, he'd be embarrassed about freaking out, even though Robin assured him it was understandable. Later, he'd feel guilty about the spill of pink that would stain Robin's bedsheets permanently. Later, he'd have a nightmare that this time his nail got ripped.

But until then, Robin would coax him back onto the bed and tuck him against her side. He'd watch, head on her shoulder, as she painted her own nails that nice green she seemed to favourite. She'd offer him the little brush and her right hand and laugh at the terrible job he does, but she would still hand him the bubblegum pink polish and tell him to paint her pinky nail with it.

And Steve would settle for the coat of bubblegum pink Robin paints his pinky finger with in turn.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #hi hello. i dont normally do this. but take it #this comes from my headcanon that steve loves pink (specifically bubblegum pink #the colour of lipgloss) but says its yellow bc yellow is soft but manlier than pink #AND my need to explore my boys torture #AND my need for stobin content #luxeberriesfics

[pleaseimgonnavomit]

The stobin "you can like both" conversation is always *chef's kiss*. I think my favorite version of it is when robin doesn't know what bisexuality is either, and she's just like, "if you like both you like both. Maybe there's a word for it maybe there's not that doesn't make it less valid."

Or something along those lines

#and then they start coming up with names to call it and theyre all horrendous #idk theres just something about unwavering love and acceptance that makes me so soft and also weep #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #them being soulmates should just always be assumed #its one of the laws of the universe