What If...

[millinerswings]

"I like you" isn't just a stepping stone to "I love you" - it is a distinct narrative beat in its own right.

As the audience, we already know that Ilya loves Shane because we heard him say it in Russian. But we also know that love is not enough - Shane loves Rose but they weren't compatible. Sometimes love isn't enough, for a variety of reasons.

This is why Shane and Ilya are terrified of coming to the cottage. Because we still don't know if they're compatible beyond the incredibly hot sex and psychic level hockey passes. The tuna melt date was nice before Shane crashed out, but that was just one afternoon.

"I like you" is the missing piece in their relationship. I know that I love you and I desire you and we play good hockey together, but do I like you?

The cottage scenes answer: yes. I like playing with you and I like cooking with you and I like talking to you and I like sharing space with you and I like sleeping next to you and I like waking up with you. I like you.

I like you and I love you and I still have no idea how we can possibly make this work but I really want to figure it out.

[whisperingmasters]

his special day - steddie!dads modern!au

SUMMARY:

Eddie discovers his husband has never had a birthday party.

FIRST, SECOND, THIRD, FOURTH

cw for this part: steve harrington-centric mild angst again, : anxiety, fear of being forgotten, crying!

FIFTH (and last :) )

Steve drove to Robin’s with a sense of determination, his mind already cycling through a checklist: traps, calling an exterminator. At the same time, he was thinking, it’s not ideal to kill a whole family of mice, right? We need a strategy to just… catch them. He rehearsed the calming, logical speech he’d need to give Robin, because he knew exactly how anxious she’d be. He was so focused on the mission that he didn’t even notice the familiar, slightly beat-up Jeep Wrangler parked just outside her building.

He used his spare key to let himself in, calling her name. “Robin? You in here?”

He walked through the hall, his eyes scanning for any signs of chaos. Strangely, everything was in its place. When he reached the living room, he recognized the familiar fiery red hair immediately.

“Uhh…” he started. Max turned from where she was perched on the arm of the sofa.

“Hi, Steve,” she said, her tone unnervingly casual.

“Max? Where’s Robin…?”

“Kitchen!” Robin’s voice chirped, a little too loudly.

When he walked into the kitchen, he found Lucas on his knees, just getting up from under the sink. He wiped his hands on his jeans with a look of confident finality. “Done,” he announced, then he turned and saw Steve. “Oh! Hey, Steve. What’s up, man?”

Steve, completely confused, just looked at Robin. “Hi! The mice…?”

“Oh! Right! I panicked,” she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. “And you know, I screamed in the group chat, and Max and Lucas were on their way over anyway, so they came right over and helped me find them.” She nodded emphatically, but her eyes were darting around the room, a clear sign of her barely contained anxiety.

He was still confused, but Lucas just gave him a little thumbs-up. “You okay, Rob?” Steve asked, his brow furrowed.

“Yep! All good! They got them all out of here. I’m fine.”

He let out a breath of relief and pulled his phone from his pocket, but she immediately jumped in. “But… there could be nests, right?”

He blinked at her. “Nests?”

Max appeared behind him, peering over his shoulder. “Yeah, because there were so many. It’s a definite possibility,” she said, letting out a dramatic puff of air.

“We really need to look for the nests,” Robin insisted.

Steve just sighed, resigning himself to his fate. This was probably going to take a lot longer than he expected.

For the next hour, he was drawn into the most ridiculous, elaborate mouse hunt of his life. He got on his hands and knees, checking behind the stove, under the sofa, in every cabinet, sifting through bookshelves filled with records and books, checking air vents, and peering into dark corners. Lucas would point out potential “entry points,” and Max provided a running commentary, occasionally looking up “facts” on her phone. (“Says here they can squeeze through a hole the size of a dime.”)

All the while, they kept him engaged in relentless small talk. Lucas became suddenly, intensely interested in the logistics of the swim club Steve owned. Max launched into a detailed explanation of why Leia should join the drama club. Robin, for once, was strangely quiet, just laughing nervously and pointing out new places to look.

Finally, after finding absolutely no evidence of mice, Steve sat back on his heels and sighed. “Guys, I don’t think there’s anything here.” He glanced at his watch. “And it’s getting late. I need to go get Eddie from the shop so we can take the girls out…”

“Oh, really?” Max asked, her tone oddly formal. “Big weekend plans?”

Steve frowned. A small, sad thought flickered in the back of his mind. Well, it’s my birthday. He knew it wasn’t a big deal. He’d told them himself it wasn’t. But a part of him, a childish, hopeful part, had thought they might remember. Clearly, the mice were more important.

“Uh, no. Just… Saturday, y’know,” he replied.

“That’s good,” Robin chimed in, a little too brightly. “You guys need a break.”

Steve just looked at them, and the pieces clicked together with a quiet, dull thud. Damn, he thought, a familiar, hollow ache settling in his chest. They really forgot this time.

He pulled out his phone, a forced smile on his face. “Well, I’m glad the mouse apocalypse has been averted.” He sent a quick text to the girls.

Steve: Hey, everything okay at home?

Leia: [Image Attached: A selfie of her and Sam on the sofa, both giving a thumbs-up. Sam is making a goofy face.]

Leia: Yep! We’re fine!

A small wave of relief. He then sent a much sweeter text to Eddie.

Steve: Hey, love. Heading out from Robin’s now (long story, involved mice). Max and Lucas were already here?? I’m coming to get you from the shop. See you in a few. ❤️

He waited. Instead of the usual enthusiastic reply, his phone buzzed with a single, curt message.

Eddie: Don’t.

Steve stared at the word. It felt like a slap.

Steve: ??? Don’t?

Eddie: Just stay there. We’re swamped around here.

Steve: 👍

The cold dread from the night before came rushing back. He stood up abruptly. “I, uh… I think I’d better go, guys.”

“No, wait, Steve!” Robin said, her eyes wide with panic.

“Robin, there is nothing in this house. We checked,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I’m leaving.” He walked to the door, ignoring their frantic protests.

The drive home was a blur. He felt sick. Something was terribly, fundamentally wrong. Everyone was lying to him, and they didn’t even remember what day it was. Susan, his childhood neighbor, had sent him a message on Facebook. Facebook!

He pulled into his driveway, taking a deep, steadying breath before opening the front door. The ground floor was completely empty and silent.

“I’m here!” he called out, his voice echoing. He looked into the living room. No girls. He frowned. “Leia? Sammie?”

He was about to head upstairs when he heard a distant, muffled giggle. It was coming from outside. From the backyard.

“We’re out here, Daddy!” a small voice called.

He followed the sound, his steps hesitant as he walked through the kitchen and toward the sliding glass door that led there. He slid it open, squinting against the late afternoon sun, and stepped out onto the patio.

The moment his foot touched the stone, the world exploded.

A shower of colorful confetti rained down on him.

“SURPRIIIISE!”

The sound hit him like a physical force, a wave of warmth and love so overwhelming it nearly knocked him off his feet. For a heart-stopping second, his brain couldn’t process it. The sunlight, the noise, the faces, everything was a blur. He blinked, trying to make sense of the scene laid out before him.

His backyard, usually just a quiet stretch of grass with a few of the girls' toys scattered about, had been transformed into something out of a movie. Hundreds of soft, golden fairy lights were strung between the trees, and even in the bright afternoon sun, they cast a magical, dreamlike glow. Blankets and plush pillows were scattered across the lawn. A huge white screen was set up on one side, how the hell did they get that huge thing in here so fast?, with a movie projector already humming.

And everywhere he looked, there were photos. Dozens of them, clipped to the strings of light. Photos of him as a teenager with that ridiculous hair; graduation day with the (then) kids; him, Nancy, and Jonathan on that road trip they took after everything. Photos of him and Eddie from their wedding, looking impossibly young and stupidly in love; photos from before that, when they were falling in love and pretending not to be; Eddie, Dustin, Erica and him at a bar. Photos of him and Robin in all their ridiculous past jobs. Photos of him holding a newborn Leia, his expression a mixture of terror and pure adoration; of him teaching a wobbly Sam to ride her bike. Joyce and Hopper holding the girls at a Christmas party, their faces beaming. Photos of their whole, messy, beautiful life together. Steve felt like he should be crying, but his tear ducts seemed too stunned to function. His heart was just beating too fast.

In the middle of it all, his family. His entire family. Joyce and Hopper were there, Hopper with a huge, genuine smile cracking his usually stoic face. El, Nancy, and Jonathan stood beside them with (not so) little Dave. Chrissy and Gareth were by a long table laden with food. Uncle Wayne was right next to Mike and Will, weren’t they in fucking Europe? Jesus Christ, how did this happen? There was also Dustin, Erica, and some of his coworkers he’d gotten close to. And of course, Robin, Lucas, and Max, who must have teleported themselves here, were all there too, a little breathless but just as excited. All of them. There. For him.

And at the very center of it all, were Eddie and the girls. Based on their triumphant expressions, Steve just blurted out, “Oh, fuck you. You didn’t just do that to make me fall into THIS?”

The entire yard erupted in laughter.

“The swear jar!” the girls yelled in unison.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you all my money, just, shit, Eddie! Guys! What the hell were you thinking? Did you just…?” Steve breathed out, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, a choked, broken sound escaping him. “Oh my God. What… what are you…?”

Leia and Sam were the first to reach him, launching themselves into his arms. “Surprise, Daddy!” Sam yelled, her voice muffled against his jeans.

He knelt, pulling them into a fierce, desperate hug, and that’s when the tears finally came. Not the terrified, heartbroken tears he’d been bracing for, but hot, messy tears of pure, unadulterated happiness. Everything, the secrets, the lies, the anxiety, clicked into place, and he just couldn’t possibly think how he was going to handle all of this love.

He was vaguely aware of a soft, familiar song starting to play, Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time.” Of course it is, he thought. I’m going to pass out any moment now. He was pulled to his feet and passed from one hug to the next. Joyce held him tight, whispering, “Happy birthday, dear.” Hopper gave him a firm hug and said, “Look, your husband’s idea was better than mine. I told them to just kidnap you for the day.” Steve just laughed maniacally, looking around, utterly shell-shocked.

When he finally got to Max and Lucas, his brain caught up with the events of the day. He pulled back from their hug, a look of mock-anger on his face. “You are such little shits!” he said, pointing a shaky finger between them and Robin. “I thought… I thought you all forgot! And you were acting so strange, and Robin wasn’t even looking at me!”

Lucas just grinned. “I know! Robin was dying. She was actually hyperventilating in the car on the way over.”

“It’s just not in my heart to lie to you! Let me level with you, that hurt me as much as it hurt you!” Robin insisted.

Steve just shook his head, a hysterical laugh bubbling up as he pulled her into a hug, spinning her around in a little circle. “I love you, dingus,” she said into his shoulder. “You’re my favorite imaginary mouse hunter.”

“I love you too,” he said, his voice thick, “even though you almost killed me.”

“That was all your man’s idea, okay?” she whispered. “But you deserve this. So much.” He thought back to when they were just two kids in ridiculous outfits, bleeding in a dirty mall bathroom, sharing secrets. She gently turned him around, and he came face to face with his husband.

Eddie was standing a few feet away, just watching him, a look of profound, bone-deep happiness on his face, his own eyes shining.

“You,” Steve stuttered, his voice thick with emotion as he walked toward him. “How?”

Eddie just shrugged, a slow, happy smile spreading across his face. “Happy birthday, my baby.”

He closed the distance and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck, burying his face in his shoulder, holding on for dear life as a fresh wave of tears wracked his body.

“I knew Eddie was romantic, but I was not prepared for this level of planning,” he heard Nancy’s voice say from somewhere behind him. “Literally all of it was him.”

Steve pulled back, his hands still cupping Eddie’s face. “How?” he asked again, completely stunned.

“I almost died of stress about thirty times, but it was worth it,” Eddie said, his own voice choked with emotion. “And also, every time I acted weird, or ran away, or the girls did something, we were trying to keep it a secret from you. And I swear, I wanted to tell you every single time, because I can’t stand seeing you sad, but I couldn’t, because there were so many people—”

“Honey, honey,” Steve cut him off gently, “I just, Jesus. I love you so much.” And he pulled him in for a kiss that was salty, and messy, and full of a love so profound it felt like it could power the entire backyard.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against Eddie’s, a giddy laugh escaping him. “I think I have to marry you all over again.”

Eddie just grinned. “Hold your horses, cutie. You think this little party is your only gift?”

Steve looked at him, perplexed, as Eddie nodded his head toward their daughters. The girls, who had been watching with shining eyes, took that as their cue. Sam tugged on his hand. “C’mon, Daddy! Lee and I have a surprise for you!”

Steve let her pull him toward a large, fluffy beanbag chair set up in front of the movie screen, his hand still firmly clasped in Eddie’s. He looked around at the faces of his friends, at the warm, chaotic, beautiful scene they had created. He thought about the morning, about the cold dread, about the absolute certainty that he was about to lose something. He had been so, so beautifully wrong. He felt like he was dreaming.

He was guided to sit on the beanbag, Eddie settling in right beside him. He watched as Leia came back, holding her dad's old, beat-up acoustic guitar, the one with the faded, hand-painted "THIS MACHINE KILLS DRAGONS" nearly worn away. He watched his princess, her long brown hair falling over her face, sit on a stool in her lilac dress. She looked up, a little nervous but with a determined set to her jaw, and her eyes found his.

“Daddy,” she said, her voice clear and firm. “This is for you.”

She began to play, the first hesitant chords of a simple, beautiful melody filling the quiet yard. And in that moment, Steve Harrington felt like the luckiest son of a bitch in the entire world, to be so loved, so loudly, and so completely.

He didn't know the song, but he knew it was for him. He watched, mesmerized, as his daughter’s fingers, so sure, moved across the fretboard. He watched her sing, her voice a little shy but clear and true, and he was completely captivated by the beautiful talent of this person he had helped raise. 

Beside him, Eddie was barely breathing. He was taking deep, steadying breaths, trying not to have a full-blown heart attack before he even turned fifty. He looked at his daughter, so fiercely dedicated as she sang every lovely, heartfelt detail she had written about her father, and he felt his heart swell to a painful, glorious size. He loved all the things he had in common with his girls on a normal day, but seeing this, his own love for music and his unconditional love for Steve, combined into one perfect, shining moment, it felt like he had truly, definitively won at life. He glanced around, seeing the same awe reflected on everyone's faces. Joyce was openly wiping tears from her cheeks, and he saw Wayne nodding slowly along to the music, his expression one of pure grandfatherly pride.

When the final chord faded into the evening air, a beat of stunned silence was immediately shattered by a roar of applause and cheers. Steve was on his feet, closing the distance and pulling his pre-teen daughter into a hug so tight it lifted her off the stool. Sam was right there a second later, launching herself at her for a tight hug. Leia was blushing, her face a bright, happy red, but as Steve held her, she shyly leaned back and, with a newfound theatrical flair, yelled, “Next up, Sammie’s surprise!”

“What, there’s another one?” Steve asked, his voice still thick with tears.

Sam just giggled and broke free, running back toward a large box next to the projector.

“Honey, no running!” Steve called out automatically, the parental concern a reflex even in his state of emotional overload.

She returned, struggling under the weight of a huge, rolled-up bundle of paper she could barely get her arms around. El moved to help her, but Sam just shook her head, determined. “I got it, Auntie El!” She staggered the last few feet and arrived at Steve’s feet, proudly presenting her creation.

“DADDY I MADE THIS SO YOU REMEMBER HOW MUCH WE LOVE YOU,” she announced loudly, letting the giant scroll of paper unfurl onto the grass. It was a gigantic, sparkling, ridiculously long card, covered from top to bottom in messages, colorful drawings, photos, and her delicate, careful handwriting. It was enormous, and it was brilliant.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Wow, honey. How… how did you even do this?” He tried to scoop her up into his arms, and she let out a peal of delighted laughter, knowing that he couldn’t do this anymore, she was such a grown up now, My God. “Look at this, Sammie! They are so pretty.”

“Uncle Will gave me some tips over the phone,” she explained proudly. “And there’s a surprise that Uncle Dusty helped me with, but you can only see it at night!”

Steve looked over at his friend/younger brother, and saw Dustin with his own nose red from crying, giving him an enthusiastic, teary-eyed nod.

“I am so proud,” Steve said, his voice cracking as he pulled both his daughters into another hug, “to be the dad of the best guitar player and the best painter in the world. You are everything to me.” He looked over their heads, his eyes finding Eddie’s. “I mean it,” he mouthed. “Everyone… thank you, guys… I don’t know what to say, really.”

Eddie moved forward, wrapping his arms around his entire family, as the crowd, sensing the moment, began to chant. “Steve! Steve! Steve!” they clapped, a rhythmic, joyful noise that filled the entire yard.

Just then, Chrissy, Nancy, and Jonathan emerged from the house, carefully carrying a large cake between them. It was covered in a beautifully messy swirl of blue, yellow, green, and pink frosting, his favorite colors around so many lit up candles they were probably age accurate, he thought.

“Okay, c’mon everyone!” Eddie’s voice boomed over the clapping. “Happy birthday to you…”

They started singing, a beautifully mismatched, slightly off-key but overwhelmingly enthusiastic chorus, and Steve thought that even if he’d had all forty-something birthdays before this one, nothing, absolutely nothing, would ever top this exact moment and all the joy he was feeling.

As everyone clapped at the end of the song, he took a deep breath, looked at the loves of his life smiling back at him, and just for a second, he wished he could live for a hundred years, just to have the chance to feel like this again, and again.

He leaned forward, and for the first time, closed his eyes and blew his birthday candles. 

NOTES:

first, it's december 6th midnight where I am, so happy bday steve from the "his special day" verse!

once again, thank you veeery much for reading and talking to me about this one. it's the first idea of so many that I had regarding end-of-the-year stories, and I actually want to dedicate this one to my bestie who was born between thanksgiving and christmas and never had good experiences with her birthday. but for me, birthdays were such a huge deal growing up, so I'm always doing my best to make her feel loved during these december in-betweens :)

my next end-of-the-year themed story will probably be spicier and less family friendly, but we'll see. I'm still posting my huge ass slowburn longfic on my ao3 getmeback, and you'll see me here pretty soon as well!!! feel free to share your thoughts, and you can also reach out to me on twitter eddiesmaster!!

[oh-stars]

AN EASY FIX

Day three of my @steddiebingo Twelve Days of Christmas fills.

Prompt: Lights | 1,191 words | G | No Warnings | Ao3

Thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing for me!

--

Robin has told him a thousand times it’s not something to be embarrassed about. She says it at least once a week, whispered as he crawls into bed, cheeks on fire. And he appreciates it, really, but it doesn’t take away the shame. He’s meant to be the party’s protector, behind Nancy of course. He’s the first physical line of defense, the first body on the battlefield. Steve Harrington can be a lot of things, but he cannot be weak. 

The stupid, dead nightlight on his wall says otherwise.

Steve jumps up from his bed and yanks it out the wall. “You’re being a dingus,” he huffs. “It’s just a stupid light. You can sleep without it.” He chucks it into the trash can by his desk, the bulb shattering on impact. 

It should feel good. It should feel freeing. 

He just feels cold. 

Steve crawls back into bed, tense and on edge as the pool lights soak into his room from beneath his curtains. His eyes track the shadows, his fists tighten around the blankets. He’s frozen in place, waiting and watching. 

It’s been months since Steve had to sleep alone without his nightlight. Normally Robin’s glued to his side or drags him over to her house. Or everyone will have a sleepover and the house won’t feel as empty and vulnerable. But Robin’s out of town for a family reunion for a whole week and Steve’s stupid nightlight had to give out on night one. 

The night drags. He feels every minute, every second ticking by. He cannot move until the morning light takes over for the eerie blue of the pool ambience and the birds start their song. Only then can he peel himself out of bed, body sore and eyes dry, as if nothing happened at all. 

It’s only six nights. He can do this. 

“You look like death,” Eddie says, dropping a stack of tapes on the Family Video counter, tapes Steve knows he can’t rent because of the massive late fee he’s racked up on his account – so big Steve can’t override it. 

Steve rolls his eyes and starts scanning them on his account. The things he does for his… friends. “Rob’s not here,” he says, like that answers everything. 

Eddie considers it for a moment, dropping onto his elbows as he leans on the desk. “Can’t sleep without a little birdie in your nest?” 

“Just like knowing she’s safe,” he says with a shrug. “It’s nice having her at my back, but I don’t need her to sleep.” 

“Of course not,” Eddie says. He grins. “I may not be as cozy as Robin, but,” he drops his voice down to a whisper, still keeping his mischievous intonation, “I’m happy to take her place for a few nights.” 

This thing between them is… new. New and unexplored and Steve is still trying to toy the line between being the cool, attractive guy who’s boyfriend material with the reality of who he is. Eddie’s seen more than most, though, and he’s yet to turn Steve away. It’s just… tough. 

Steve sets the tapes aside and leans in close. “I don’t sleep well alone.” 

“So don’t sleep alone,” Eddie says, breath ghosting over Steve’s cheek. Their noses are nearly touching, too close for the public but worth the risk in the otherwise empty store. “Invite me over, Harrington.” 

“Fine,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair as he sits up. “Wanna come over, Munson?”

“With pleasure.” Eddie winks at him. 

Steve narrows his eyes. “For sleep. No funny business.” 

Eddie scoffs. “Like I’d ever.” He grabs the tapes and looks behind him, hair flipping around as he keeps watch. His hair is in disarray when he stops, grinning at Steve. “Kiss for the road?” 

“Just this once,” Steve says, reaching forward to grab Eddie by the collar and drag him in close. It’s quick, chaste, and the sweetest kiss Steve’s ever had in his life. “Later, Eds.” 

“See you soon, sweetheart.” 

Eddie’s sprawled on his bed, tucked underneath the covers, wearing Steve’s clothes and hoarding the pillows like a gremlin. “So is it Robbie’s presence that helps?” 

Steve shrugs, pushing the comforter back to slip into bed. It’s dark, too dark, except for the glow of the pool in its cool, eerie hue. He suctions himself to Eddie’s side, burrowing in close. “Maybe,” he mumbles. 

A hand trails up Steve’s bare back, nails lightly scratching as they go, but mindful of his scars. “Or do you just like someone to cuddle and siphon heat from?”

“Yeah that's it, all I want is a warm body. Doesn’t matter who. You, Robin, a dog. All the same to me.” 

“Is that why you’re trying to crawl into my skin?” Eddie asks, rolling them over so he can peer down at Steve. He brushes a few hairs off Steve’s forehead. “What’s really going on, baby?”

He looks up at Eddie, at those big brown eyes that only ever look at him with warmth and maybe something deeper, something sacred and special he’s too scared to name. It cracks him open, split right down his chest in an open cavity seeping with feelings and thoughts. “It’s too dark,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut the second the words are out there. 

He said it. 

He admitted it. 

It’s out there now, living in the space between them like a neon sign. 

Eddie Munson now knows how weak and pathetic Steve really is. 

The bed shifts and the covers slide down as Eddie leaves. Steve can’t feel him anymore, he’s leaving and he’ll never come back because he sees him now, he truly sees how– 

A click. Steve can see the faint glow of a light on the other side of his eyelids. He cracks one eye open to see Eddie hovering near the lamp. “Easy fix,” he says in a way that shows how much he understands how big of a task that really was. “Now scoot over, I want your good pillow.” 

Eddie dives back into the bed and wiggles his toes between Steve’s legs. He throws the blanket back over them and hums as he scoots closer to Steve. “You know, with the lamp on your room is pretty cozy.” 

Steve can’t speak. The lump in his throat was too thick to voice any of the thoughts swirling in his head. Instead, he holds Eddie close and lets his body relax into the mattress, into Eddie. 

The next time Steve comes over to Eddie’s, he finds the ceiling draped in Christmas Lights. 

“Like it?” Eddie asks, bouncing on his bed. 

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Steve says, closing the door behind him. 

Eddie shrugs. “If it makes you feel comfortable and helps you sleep, it’s easy to do.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know if you noticed,” Eddie says, reaching for him, “but I kind of like you a lot, Stevie. There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you.” 

Steve kisses him so hard they fall back onto the bed. They don’t leave till morning. Steve has to show just how much he appreciates the lights, afterall.

[resande]

“and yet i fight, and yet i fight.”

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington, who has a very “in name only” relationship with his parents, the people who claim they love him lots but have simply given him cash for his last six birthdays without bothering to send a card. 

Steven Harrington, who lost his connection to the only adults in his life who actually parented him when he had his final fight with Tommy and Carol-- not that they ever really did that much. Having an adult put a bandaid on his knee and complimenting him for being tough was plenty enough. 

Steve Harrington, who drove Dustin and co. to the Byers house that one Christmas and was told by Hopper not to come in; that Joyce was still mad at him about the ‘demodog in the fridge’ and figured his exclusion was fair--it wasn’t like Hopper actually liked him. Joyce certainly had no reason to. It wasn’t like he was doing anything for Christmas anyways. 

Steve Harrington, who is fairly certain Robin’s parents have clocked her as queer but who still treats him in that careful way many parents do when he’s hanging around their daughter. There’s a barrier there, in the way of firm handshakes and “get her back safe”’s that keep things formal. (It’s never bothered him before, and he swears it doesn’t bother him now.) 

Steve Harrington, whose relationships with adults are defined by words like “networking”, “proper connections”, “favors”, and “finances”, who has at best been treated like a miniature version of his father and at worst as a spoilt moron, who encounters Wayne Munson and has no idea what to do with the man. 

Wayne Munson, who asks him actual questions about his life. Who asks him to watch the game with him. Who calls him “boy” and “son” in ways that sound affectionate and not frustrated. Wayne, who shoos him away from the dishes and compliments his cooking, who has invited Steve over when Eddie isn’t even home.

Steve Harrington, who keeps apologizing to Eddie because “I’m not trying to steal your Uncle man, I promise.” and doesn’t believe Eddie when the latter just laughs at him.

(“You can’t steal Wayne, Steve.” Eddie says with a snicker, when he finally figures out what Steve is apologizing for.  The guy apologizes a lot for things that make no sense, it’s a bad habit Eddie’s working on him with. “Though I do believe he has been trying to steal you.” 

“Oh.” This does not relieve Steve. In fact, this seems to make him more nervous looking, which Eddie does not want. 

“I uh. I don’t want to come between you guys so I guess we can just hang at my house…?” The voice he trails off with is downright painful for Eddie to hear, and he’s already slashing his hand in the air in a wild ‘No’ before Steve can even finish speaking.

“Dude you’re fine. I’m glad you guys are getting along! Wayne needs someone to talk sportsball with and clearly so do you because you keep trying to talk about it to anyone who will listen.”

“I guess if you’re alright with it…”) 

Steve Harrington, who allows himself to be adopted by the Munsons much in the way a feral cat lets itself become domesticated, and who starts looking at Wayne like the man hung the moon. 

Wayne Munson, who is referred to by Steve as “Dad” exactly once, and feels so fucking happy about it he misses the panic attack Eddie has to talk Steve through. 

He also misses that that is the moment when Steve accidentally confesses his feelings to Eddie in the Munson’s (new) cramped bathroom, on grounds that “I can’t date you and also call Wayne dad like that, that’s weird! Isn’t that weird!? It feels weird!” 

(“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, trying not to smile and failing entirely. “I get what you’re saying, but I think in your panic you missed something kinda key, there.”) 

Steve Harrington, who gets himself an entire family in the end (and gets to both call Wayne “dad” and Eddie as his boyfriend, without issue, because “we’re not related babe, you can call your inlaw whatever you want.” 

“Now who's skipping steps? When did we get married?”

“The very second it’s legal, that’s when.”) 

--and has never been happier in his life.

[clioerato]

Steve, raised since childhood on a strict diet of tax forms, utility bills, and neatly labeled folders, handles Love with capital L the only way he knows how—logistically.

So the moment he realizes things with Eddie are serious-serious, he doesn’t make a big speech or even breathe a word.

He just quietly opens a joint savings account.

Then a trust fund.

Lists himself as Eddie’s emergency contact.

Buys a gold ring (simple, tasteful, suspiciously the right size). He knows Eddie likes silver, but that's not what it's for. Gold is in any case an investment in the future, if something happens.

And—because, well, they’ve survived four apocalypses—he updates his will.

Steve wrote it after Apocalypse #2.

The BMW had been bought with his money and, should anything happen, was legally designated to go to Dustin.

Everything else—his personal savings, the shared funds, and whatever compensation the government might cough up for the next end-of-the-world scenario—was to go to Eddie.

Nobody knows this but Steve. It’s filed in a folder marked “just in case”.

Eddie, on the other hand, doesn’t do paperwork.

When he realizes things are serious, he gives Steve his favorite band t-short. Then changes the tires on Steve’s BMW from summer to winter without being asked. Fixes the bookshelf Steve’s been threatening to burn for a month. And starts making him sandwiches in the morning — the kind his mom used to make for him, with just the right amount of mustard and that one slice of tomato Steve always forgets he likes. Uses his entire vocabulary of cute nicknames on Steve and comes up with a couple of new ones.

Miraculously, it works.

Because Eddie gets this strange, unfamiliar feeling of being safe. And Steve? Steve finally feels understood. And cared for, in a way he didn’t know he needed.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

halfway there (fully smitten)

written for @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween pop up event!

rated G | 2,832 words | on AO3: halfway there (fully smitten) | prompt: half-o-ween meet cute, modern au, flirting, steve harrington is simultaneously super charming and on his game AND easily flustered

Steve would do anything for his kid siblings.

He would.

It’s just…

“Why’d it have to be this Saturday?”

“Because that’s the halfway mark?” Dustin says as if it was obvious, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Oh you’ve got to–” Steve scrubs a hand down his face; Yeah. fine. That makes sense. It is called the ‘Halfway to Halloween’ craft fair. “You don’t even like crafts.”

“There’s going to be more than just crafts.” Dustin says, again, like it should be obvious. “C’mon Steve, even Max wants to go. Like, actually wants to go.”

Steve looks over at the Max in question, gazing up at him with her usual scowl on her face.

“She doesn’t look like she wants to.”

“Yes she–”

“She does.” she says.

“See??” Dustin gestures excitedly towards her.

Steve sighs again. Of course she’d want to go, she’s always been all about that spooky crap.

He looks down between the two hellions he’s so proud to call his siblings.

Internally.

Internally he is.

He sighs again, turning away from where they’d corralled him at the end of the hallway.

“C’mon Steve where’re you–”

“I gotta call Angie,”

“But–”

“I have to call off our date, dingwad!"

Dustin insisted that they be there right when the fair opened at 10 am, but after a syrup incident at breakfast and a couple bathroom breaks, their two hour drive to the 4H grounds the show was being held at, turned into two hours and 45 minutes, landing them in line at 10:10 am.

They waited their turn to pay the entrance fee, Dustin bouncing on his toes the whole time, and as soon as the bright orange bracelet was on his wrist, he was off. 

Surprising Steve further, Max was right on his heels, scanning seriously over the first line of vendors.

“You shits better have your phones on you!” Steve calls after them, getting offhanded waves in return.

He watches them go a little on ahead, sliding between the already hearty crowd much easier than he would, then turns to look at some of the vendors’ wares himself.

It was not a great place to start paying attention, to be completely honest, the racks and tables filled with all sorts of stuffed animals with bloody gashes, exposed broken bones, and dangling bloodshot eyes..

His shock must’ve been fully apparent because the bearded man behind the stall table guffaws at his expression.

“S’not for everyone, kid. I get it.” he says when Steve apologizes.

There are people selling their collections of movie memorabilia, specialty indie costume companies selling their scarily (ha) detailed rubber masks, some folks are selling crystals, some are selling crochet, some have tiny taxidermied mice..

It’s honestly kind of overwhelming.

He stops at one end of this barn (the second in the grounds’ row of five that were full up for the occasion), leaning up against the open double doors.

He’d originally been concerned about the cool cloudy weather, thinking it’d be too cold to be walking around outside like this, but a lot of vendors had space heaters plugged in behind their booths, and there were so many people bustling through and around the space that the wide open doors were a blessing to his already sweating brow.

Taking advantage of his spot out of the flow of people, he opens his phone to check on where the gremlins were (two barns down already what the hell??), when Dustin’s text comes through.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues on.

The next booth he comes to is another with taxidermied things, though these are all bugs. Different beetles, bees, and butterflies pinned into shadow boxes.

For some reason, he gets kinda stuck at the display of colorful wings. He’s never really liked bugs, never had a strong opinion about butterflies, but these things are… seriously beautiful.

Some he remembers the names for without having to look at the little tags the vendor wrote up for them; Monarch for one, and he knows this blue one is an Emperor Butterfly from that Animal Crossroads game Max got him hooked on for a while a couple years ago, and he’s inspecting the pattern of greens and oranges on another when he feels someone brush up against him.

Suddenly aware of how long he’s been standing in front of the display, probably blocking a whole bunch of others from getting to look too, he glances back, stepping out of the way with a “Shit, sorry!”

“No worries man, I can look just fine from right here.”

Steve’s busy looking down at his feet to make sure he’s stepping around the boxes stored under a nearby display table, “No, really, I just got caught up looking at them;” he finally gets his feet in a safe spot, and turns to the newcomer, “They’re all really–”

He’d made the mistake of looking up at the source of the voice, and now his own is stuck in his throat.

Steve’s a sucker for all things 80s, the aesthetic (a new word introduced to him by Max) at least, and this guy looked as if he was plucked right out of time and delivered to him on a shiny silver platter.

A mess of dark frizzy curls, deep dark eyes, ripped skinny jeans and some sort of band tee under a leather jacket and denim vest..

Even the sun decided to point out how much of a simp he was about to be over this guy, choosing that moment to break through the clouds outside the doors and give hot 80s metal guy a hell of a glow.

“--pretty.”

Hot Metalhead smirks and ohjesusfuckingchristhehasdimples.

“You’re not too bad yourself, big boy.” the man says, and Steve swears he can feel the other man’s gaze trail over him. “You got a favorite?”

He gestures back to the display of bugs, and Steve shakes his head clear, “Uh.. The orange one maybe, the Monarch? But this one is really cool.” he points to the green/orange one.

Hot Metalhead nods, “The Madagascan Sunset Moth, that one’s my favorite.” then he levels a smirk at Steve, “Seems you’ve got good taste, pretty boy.”

Something kicks to life behind Steve’s ribs, and suddenly he feels completely back on his game. He slowly drags his gaze over the other man, lingering on his lips (chapped, but perfectly pouty even in their smirk), “Seems like I do.”

Steve meets the man’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to say something else when they’re broken from the moment by none other than Max.

“There you are! Do you ever check your phone?” she gripes, pulling him out of the booth

“What–Max?” A rock sinks into his stomach, “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help picking something for Lucas,” she puts her hands on her hips and it’s like he’s looking in a mirror.

The rock rolls out his stomach with the roll of his eyes, and turns to say something to Hot Metalhead, but he’s already a couple booths away, bending low over a table of books.

“You can flirt later, I really need your help!”

Sighing, but figuring he can find Hot Metalhead later, he follows Max to a bigger movie memorabilia booth in the center of the next barn over.

Eventually, they settle on two gifts for Max’s “He’s not my boyfriend nor do I want him to be.” boyfriend (“He’s not my boyfriend, Steve! Urgh, you’re the worst.”): a Freddy Krueger sweater, and a jersey boasting the Haddonfield Butchers, with the last name Myers and number 78 on the back.

“Are you sure that’s not secretly for you?” Steve asks, clocking the reference immediately. He had, afterall, been made to sit and watch Halloween close to a zillion times over the course of he and Max’s foster journey together.

“No, it’s for him. It's something I like fused with what he likes." She reasons.

“Sure, sure,”

Max wanders off again after that, and so does Steve, scanning the crowd for messy brown curls as he scans the other vendors.

Eventually, he comes to a booth covered in pins and earrings. 

He immediately thinks of Ms. Hender– Claud— Mom when he sees all the earrings, and starts looking through the spinning racks, snapping a picture to send to the goblins as he does

“Find something you like?”

Steve glances up, one of the two ladies manning the booth has stood from her chair, the strawberry blond with the ponytail, smiling brightly at him. A pair of cigarette earrings hang from her lobes, one new and one half burnt down.

“Yeah, sorry, I was sending a picture of these to my siblings,” he picks up the fangs, “Our mom would love these.”

The woman holds out a hand and he passes the set to her, “Awesome, let me get them bagged up for you!”

“Do you want a different color?” The other woman says, looking through a basket of what looks like even more pairs of earrings; she’s a dirtier blond with a choppy bob and freckles.

“Another color?”

“Y’know, black, orange, purple, glow in the d–” that’s when she looks up at him, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve’s brain goes into a jumbled state of ???????????

“Uhm, yeah? How’d you–”

“You went to my high school!”

A rock plunges into his gut, “Oh, uhm.. I’m sorry? I don’t–”

“You dated Tammy Thompson.”

He feels his face pull into a cringe, “Yeah, that was… yeah.”

“She was on American Idol!” the strawberry blond says.

Steve finds himself laughing, “I don’t know how she made it, she sounds like a muppet when she sings.”

“She does!” She laughs at the same time Choppy Bob says an indignant “She does not!”

The rock is back, “Oh, sorry.. Was she a friend?”

Ponytail laughs again, saying “No,” at the same time as Bob but continuing on with “Robin here had a biiiig crush on her.”

 Bob, Robin apparently, goes all splotchy, “Shut up Chris!”

Chris just waves her off, “Oh he’s fine, he’s one of us, did you not see his pin?”

Steve looks down at his own chest, Max’s gifted bi flag pin glinting up at him from his jacket, then back up at the two; the lanyard around Robin’s neck jumps out at him, striped in pinks and oranges and whites, and Chris has what looks like one half of a heart in colors matching his pinned to her sweater.

“Huh.” Robin says, looking perplexed, “Who’da thunk?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve jokes, finally getting Robin to smile back at him.

Suddenly, and at the same time another potential customer comes into the little stall behind him, Dustin comes out of the woodwork to tug at his arm, “Finally, there you are! Stop flirting and come with me, you gotta see these cars!”

“Whoa, dude! Chill out for a second, okay? I’m trying to pay the nice lady.”

“Well hurry it up dude,” he mocks, “They’ve got the Ghostbusters’ hearse back there!”

Dustin squeezes very impolitely past the other person in the booth, and Steve turns back to Chris, “Sorry, brothers you know?”

“He’s got a point, the Ghostbusters one is pretty impressive,” She says as Robin accepts his $10 bill for the jewelry, and passes him back a small bag and a card, “I wrote our cell numbers on the back, we should all meet up again sometime!”

“Course! I’ll let you know how my mom likes ‘em, yeah?”

Steve squeezes out the stall and Chrissy picks up her phone. 

Dustin was right (what’s new?), this last building is packed full of hearses of every shape and size. 

A 1940s era one, a slightly newer model painted entirely in matte black, one with a padded coffin hanging half out the end for people to pose for pictures in. But the real star of the show, at least according to Dustin, was the one for one remake of the Ghostbusters’ white one.

Steve follows him down the row, pausing at the hood of the replica to take a picture of the giant slime ghost plush in the passenger seat, then on to peer into the cab.

He was still inspecting all the old dials in the dash through the open window, when someone says, “See something you like?”

“I was told by a very reliable source that yours was the one to beat.” Steve says, taking in the shockingly low number of miles on the odometer, “And I gotta say, still having the original dials in the dash is pretty cool– Hey! It’s you!” 

The guy leaning his weight onto the car’s roof with one hand grins, “Hello again, your majesty.”

“Majesty?”

 “You liked the Monarchs, remember?” Hot Metalhead pushes himself up off the car and offers Steve the same hand, “I’m Eddie.”

“Steve.” he breathes, taking Eddie’s hand in his. 

Eddie shakes his hand once, his fingers calloused and warm, “Well, King Steve, what brings you all the way to my neck of the woods?”

“I heard there was a super special hearse back here so I had to come see it for myself.”

“Good eye, Stevie”

“Only if it’s easy on ‘em.” he says, starting to get his normal voice back, “‘Easy on the eyes’ y’know?”

Eddie just laughs, “Yeah big guy, I got it.”

Steve’s face is on fire. He clears his throat, finally letting Eddie’s hand go. He notices a familiar pin on the front breast pocket of his denim vest that he hadn’t noticed before, this one striped in shades of blue, green, and white, the opposite half of Chris’ pink, purple, and blue one.

“Oh, hey! You know Chris?” Eddie's face flashes into confusion, so Steve clarifies, “She’s got the same half heart pin as you…?”

“Chrissy you mean? Tiny? Ponytail? Bangs?”

Steve shrugs, “That sounds right.”

“Has a girlfriend about yay tall? Freckles?”

“I mean, she didn’t stand up..”

Eddie considers him for a moment. “Nope. Never heard of ‘er.”

Oh god he’s a dork.. Steve’ll never survive this.

“D’she send you over here?”

“Kinda? Dustin wanted to see the cars anyhow so..” he holds his arms out at his sides, “Here I am.”

“So this curly-haired menace is yours then?” Eddie asks, turning to stand at Steve’s side and gesturing to where Dustin is talking with a balding man at the end of the car, “He’s been talking my Uncle’s ear off each time he’s come by.”

Steve nods, “Him and the redhead who’s… around here somewhere– there!” He points out Max as she heads outside into the sun, making her hair glow bright, “She’s my foster sister, Dustin’s mom took us both in about a year ago now, she was really great to take us in together, even with me being ‘aged out’ and all.. I wanted to make sure she had something stable going forward y’know? And I really don’t know why I’m telling you all that but.. There it is..”  

His face is going to be permanently red at this point, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind his rambling, looking at him with a mix of amusement and something else in his expression. “You can tell me whatever you want, whenever you want, Stevie.”

“Is that your way of asking for my number?” Steve asks on impulse.

Eddie laughs, “You give me way too much credit Stevie, I’m not even remotely close to that good of a smooth-talker,” he reaches into his back pocket and produces his phone, “But no way am I passing up the opportunity.”

Steve smiles and takes it, entering his information into Eddie’s phone, “Apologies to your uncle by the way,” he says as he sends himself a devil face emoji from Eddie’s cell, “Dusty can get to be too much sometimes. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble?”

He hands back the phone as his own chimes in his pocket, taking it out and passing it to Eddie.

“Not at all; Wayne’s more than happy to talk about anything to anyone who’ll listen; He’s already told me everything he knows.”

“Don’t you mean ‘taught’?”

“Not in the slightest.” Eddie grins at Steve’s laughter, punches something into his phone and passes it back. “There you go, big boy, one brand new phone number just for you.”

Steve looks down at the screen, ‘super hot sexy metal deathlord eddie 😈🤘’ is at the top of his message screen.

He looks up at Eddie, who just waggles his eyebrows at him; Steve rolls his eyes, but can’t keep himself from smiling. “Perfect, thanks.”

“No problem…” he mimes looking down at his phone, “‘steve’.”

“Oi! Can you two flirt your way to the gut trucks, or are Dusty and I gonna have to get some grub ourselves?”

The two jump apart at Wayne’s words, both their cheeks burning (brighter in Eddie’s case).

“Yeah, yeah, shut your yaps, we’ll go get something.” Eddie grumbles, striding off toward where the food trucks are parked, pulling Steve along with him.

if you don't have one around you at this time, this is a real thing that happens in my area every may!! and it's on the 10th this year!! all of the things mentioned are things i've seen at my fair; my own pair of vamp fang earrings are truly a favorite pair of earrings i own :o) spiderweb divider from @saradika-graphics! vampire earring pic is from this etsy listing!

there will also be a part 2 to this tomorrow, LINK HERE!

[caitmayart]

Sometimes you need Ayda Aguefort.

Sometimes is ALWAYS

[anniebass]

a bit obsessed with doing these, it's the most fun I've had with trad art in a while

get A4/8x10 originals here, free shipping ✨

[yabakuboi]

"Dude," Steve says, pressing on his eyes because he feels like he's about to cry. "What the fuck."

"What?" Dustin squeaks, alarmed. "What? Steve, you're freaking me out!"

"Good!" Because Steve just worked eighteen hours and it's past midnight and he got thrown up on twice and there was a bed pan incident and even though he showered at the hospital he probably smells awful and it rained and he lost his keys so he had to take the bus and he's sweaty and tired and wet and cold and Dustin's DnD friend is hot. "I can't believe you'd do this to me!" Okay, maybe Steve's feeling a little delirious.

"Do what??" Dustin is full on shrieking right now. His hot friend is standing in their apartment looking more and more worried and hot.

"You didn't tell me he was hot!"

The expressions that go across Dustin's face is impressive, before they stop and he settles on a flat glare. "Seriously??"

Hot guy is now blushing and Steve will collapse if he doesn't keep with the righteous fury.

"I've been TRYING to get you two to meet for months now!"

"You didn't tell me he was hot, though! Dustin!!"

"I don't know what guys are hot, Steve!" Dustin says indignantly. "I thought you didn't like nerds!"

"Dustin!"

"Um," says hot guy. He looks like he's panicking.

Dustin's face changes again. "Oh, no. Oh, no, you're right."

"All this time!" Steve says and he really is close to tears. "You've been nagging on me all this time to find my soulmate, and you had the perfect guy right here?? You had him in my home??? Dustin!"

"Whoa," whispers hot guy.

"I'm sorry," Dustin wails now, just as distraught. "You love nerds, all your favorite people are nerds, I don't know what I was thinking, oh my god!" He whirls on hot guy. "Eddie, give Steve your number right now!"

"Okay," says hot guy Eddie, immediately. His face is super red and his eyes are wide, and he looks scared out of his mind as he fumbles his pocket for his phone. "Yeah-Yep-Absolutely. This is a thing that's happening."

Steve, tears burning in his eyes, watches as Dustin punches his number into Eddie's phone. "Okay," he says a little nasally, wiping quickly at his face. "Okay, I'm going to shower and then sleep for two days, and then pretend like this never happened so I can look hot guy in the eye when he asks me on a date. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!" Dustin says, all cheery now. Behind him, still looking vaguely scared for his life, hot guy gives him a shaky thumbs up.

[spiderziege]

Mordred Manor! (with close-ups under the cut)

edit: i just put up some new drawings on my ko-fi, so if you wanna print this out as a poster or something, you can find it there at full resolution in the 'Misc Art' folder! :) (personal use only!)

[sjullay]

Dear Alice,

I keep hearing people ask how do they know that we do that? How does she know what all of this is like? I know I don’t know you, but I think I get it. Heartstopper is not just a love letter to your readers or even to the characters. It is a love letter to you and to all of those people that you love. You get it because you’ve lived this, you’ve loved people who’ve gone through each and every one of these things, because stories don’t come from nowhere. No story comes from nowhere. Stories show life. They show us that it’s okay to want and need love whether it be familial love, platonic love, or for some of us romantic and/or sexual love. And that all that love is possible.

So thank you for letting us all feel seen and heard and loved. Throughout Heartstopper I’ve gotten to feel longing and grief and love and joy and hurt. I’ve gotten to see myself in the story. To see characters communicate better than I did at that age and know that you are teaching a new generation to love more freely and openly. Thank you for sharing your life with us. And thank you for loving Nick and Charlie just as much as we do.

Love,

A Nick, a Charlie, a Darcy, a Tori, a Elle, a Isaac, a Tara, a Aled, a Imogene, a Tao, a Michael, a Oliver…

@aliceoseman @heartstoppercomic

[blended-ice]

Rewatching fhsy and thinking about Gorgug trying to get way too large birds to perch on his arm (re: Baxter). I bet the greatest wizard of all time could convince the mistress of the compass points to do a silly bit with him.

[steddieas-shegoes]

shower of snow

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘shower’

rated t | 399 words | cw: language | tags: Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, implied sort of enemies to lovers situation, hockey au, modern au, pre-steddie

🏒⛸️🏒⛸️🏒⛸️🏒⛸️😏⛸️

Eddie watches from the bench, arms crossed, general look of disinterest on his face. He’s not gonna give Steve the satisfaction of being right that he is a better skater than most of the team.

Because he knows he is. He took figure skating lessons from age six to thirteen. He placed nationally multiple times. He may have stopped skating for medals, but he never stopped having talent.

And somehow Steve Harrington, captain of the Hawkins High Hockey Team, thought he could convince Eddie Munson, triple senior and local weed pusher, to join the team.

Not fucking likely.

Eddie watches as Steve ran drills with different lines, his frustration with the other seniors joking around instead of practicing apparent the longer practice went on. Eddie sees every flaw. He also sees how perfect Steve’s movement is.

He loses interest when Steve yells at them all to shut up for the tenth time and lets his eyes wander to the rafters. Four championship banners hang for this team: 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000. The four years that Steve’s dad, Richard, was the star center, expected to be drafted first round in the NHL.

Until he got a girl pregnant and no NHL team wanted the drama. He went to an Ivy League college, got his law degree, married the woman he didn’t love, and now here Steve was: trying to add just one banner from his tenure at Hawkins.

Eddie could see why that was a difficult task.

A shower of snow blasts his face, shocking him out of his thoughts.

“What the fuck?” He wipes his face and sees Steve standing on the ice in front of him, alone.

“Practice is over.” Steve didn’t apologize for soaking him with half-melted ice. “So, you in?”

“Am I in? On that?” Eddie snorted. “Hard pass, dude.”

“What? Why?”

“They can’t even do crossovers right. No wonder your defense is the worst in the state.”

Steve glares at him as Eddie stands to leave.

“So, what? It’s hopeless?” Steve yells as Eddie walks down the tunnel.

“Probably!” Eddie yells back.

“What if I help you graduate?”

Eddie pauses at the offer. His grades are decent this year, but he still struggles. Steve offering to help would at least give him more chances to ogle his ass in those tight jeans he wears.

Eddie turns to Steve, giving in.

“What time is practice tomorrow?”

[talanashta]

Pool Party | Surprise Visit | T | No CWs | Minor Swearing

For Day 2 of the Steddie Back to School Bash @thehairandthebanished

Steve woke up from his nap on the couch to a knock on the door. As he was rubbing his eyes and sitting up, the knocks turned into pounding. His eyes shot open and his heart started racing.

He rushed over the door and threw it open. Standing outside were all seven of the kids.

“What’s going on? Is it a Code Red?” he asked frantically, looking Dustin over for injuries.

Dustin brushed him off and pushed past into the house. “No! We came to use your pool!”

The kids filed in behind him, only Will having the sense to at least be a little sheepish. Well, he could forgive El at least. She was still figuring some social stuff out, and with these hooligans dragging her around…

“Sorry, Steve,” Will muttered as he passed.

“You didn’t think to, you know, call me first? Let alone ask?” Steve asked, incredulous.

Dustin scoffed. “Like you were doing anything important today.”

“I could have been,” Steve mumbled mostly to himself.

Raising his voice to actually be heard, he said to the kids, “Fine. Go swim. I’m not feeding you, though. You need to go home at dinnertime.” Lies, and the kids knew it too. Come 6PM, he’d be ordering a few pizzas for them with whatever toppings they wanted.

He barely finished speaking before they rushed through the house to head to the pool. “Walk!” he yelled after them. Of course, no one listened.

Steve sighed and headed over to the phone in the kitchen and dialed a number he knew well by now. It only rang a couple times before he heard the click of an answer.

“Y’ello?” the voice came down the line.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Steve!” Eddie’s voice brightened up. “What has you calling me on this fine Saturday afternoon? Is this about our plans tomorrow?”

Steve rushed to assure him. “No, no. We’re still good for tomorrow! It’s just… the kids all showed up out of nowhere.”

“Wait, what? To your house?”

“Yeah!” Steve complained. “They didn’t call or anything. They just showed up and pounded on my door and demanded to use the pool!”

“What little shits!”

“Yeah. So I figured you might want to come hang out with me and help supervise. Make sure none of them decide to drown each other?” Steve asked shyly.

There was a brief pause. “Yeah, course, Stevie. I’ll be over in 15.”

True to his word, Eddie was there in 14 minutes exactly, clad in swim shorts, a tee, and sandals. He didn’t even bother knocking, just walking right in.

Steve was leaned against the counter in the kitchen, waiting for him. As soon as he heard Eddie coming in, his face lit up. “Hey!”

“Hey, back, sweetheart,” Eddie responded. “Kids all outside?”

Steve double-checked, looking toward the back door. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Eddie said, before kissing Steve.

Steve moaned in contentment and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Missed you,” he said when they parted.

“Missed you too, baby,” Eddie whispered.

He pulled back, “Now let’s go handle the brats!” He hurried to the back door, kicking off his sandals and pulling off his tee as he went.

Before Steve even got to the door, he heard a giant splash and all the kids yelling in response.

He just smiled and joined them.

[heartstoppercomic]

Happy 8 years of Heartstopper ❤️ 8 years ago today I posted the first few pages of the Heartstopper webcomic 🍂

[wheresurboytonighthelookslikeenj]

my van is a boat

my boat is a van

can i make it anymore obvious