You Know What? Fuck You. *turns Your Strong And Stoic And Serious Character Into A Crying, Traumatized,

Eddie who did all kinds of odd jobs for extra cash and ended up acting as a mascot for a football team.

He had to admit while he wasn't the biggest sports fan out there, the chaos and overflowing energy of the games made the blood run hot in his veins. The enthusiasm, the booming cheering and the loud music almost compensated for the stuffy red bird costume he had to squeeze into every couple of days.

The only saving grace was that Eddie always ran cold, so unlike some of his poor co-workers, he didn't sweat buckets during his shift, and he got to revel in the fun while being his dramatic and goofy self. He danced around people, teased them, joked with them, and posed for their photos.

One of many things that he enjoyed was the kiss cam. As much as Eddie tried to pretend otherwise, he was a romantic at heart, and seeing so many people having fun and being in love really made his day.

Sure there were awkward moments as well where family members were mistaken as couples, but it was just another thing to laugh at, just another tale to recall when they gathered around the table and had dinner together some days or some years later.

Perhaps, that was why when the big screen showed a pretty boy—and damn, Eddie could spend forever to wax lyrical about those pouty lips and doe eyes and perfect hair and handsome jawline. And Eddie wished he could trace those cute little moles with his tongue, to draw constellations on that golden skin and find the answers of the universe—who got ignored and then brushed off by his boyfriend despite his attempts to tell the guy they were on kiss cam, Eddie felt so offended on his pretty boy's behalf.

Without hesitation, Eddie stalked over to their row, took the popcorn from Pretty Boy and upended the whole box over the boyfriend's head just as the guy finally looked up from his stupid phone, relishing the cheers the other spectators gave him.

He then booed at the fuming bastard who looked two seconds away from blowing a casket, pulled Pretty Boy into his chest, and nearly bumped his fist into the air when Pretty Boy giggled and hooked their arms together.

He didn't think, really, he just signaled for Bob he had to go for a while and took Pretty Boy back to the staff room where he peeled off the mascot costume and finally revealed himself to Pretty Boy.

Eddie slightly regretted his impulsive decision because he wasn't looking his best right now; his hair was put up in a tight bun, his face was flushed and sticky with sweat. He only had on a black Metallica cut-off, a pair of sweat shorts for easy movements, his rings, and nothing else.

In contrast, Pretty Boy looked like a model walking right out of a magazine with his baby blue striped polo, washout jeans, RayBan perched on coifed chestnut hair, and worn sneakers.

"I'm Eddie," he introduced, panting a little because of the heat and the pace his heart was slamming against his ribcage. "I hope I'm not bothering you, pretty boy."

Smiling coyly, Pretty Boy leaned in his space and holy shit, Eddie had to swallow the pool of spit gather in his mouth when he detected the floral and fruity notes from Pretty Boy's cologne and body wash. This close, he could see how those hazel eyes dilated, how those plush lips parted just slightly, tempting him to take a taste.

"Hi Eddie," Pretty Boy said, glancing up at him through those pretty eyelashes. "I'm Steve. But you can always call me Stevie, sweetheart, baby, or pretty boy."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at the cheekiness. God, they just met ten minutes ago but this boy was proving to be the death of him.

"Pretty baby, then," Eddie lifted his hand to brush Steve's cheekbone with the back of it, smiling fondly at the blush that crept up on the soft skin. He met Steve's gaze and raised a brow. "What do you think?"

"I think," Steve licked his lips, red and kissable. "I think you should kiss me."

That Eddie could do. He would happily listen to the sweet little noises Steve made for as long as Steve had him.

He told Steve as much and they ended up going back to his apartment where he showed Steve what it felt like to be his boy. His baby.

Some years later, Eddie made sure to kiss the daylight out of his boyfriend when they were caught by the kiss cam. He wanted to brag as loud as he could that he was the man who had bagged Steve Harrington.

And when someone booed at him for showing off, he flipped them a bird through the camera, making Steve giggle against him. He wouldn't have it any other way.

"But why is he here all the time," he whines to Robin. She doesn't like him much, but Scoops is empty, and what else is he supposed to do? Not speak to her at all?

"Why do you care what Eddie Munson is doing at the mall."

"I don't care." He scoffs, rolls his eyes. "He's just always here. Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

"Do you?"

"He doesn't work here."

"Haven't seen you doing a lot of work here, Steve."

"You spent forty minutes yesterday drawing on your sneakers."

She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything because he's right and she knows it.

He goes back to staring at Munson, sitting on the edge of the fountain. He's relaxed back, legs spread, looking like he owns the place. The way he's leaning, his t-shirt rides up, showing a tantalizing glimpse of pale skin and the lightest dusting of hair. He doesn't remember his mouth being so dry before.

"You're such an idiot." Robin smacks herself down beside him. "Eddie's a good guy. Is this just because he's the freak and you're King Steve?"

"No!" He says it too loud, a few people in the foodcourt turn to stare. "I'm not that guy anymore. That's all just--" he flaps his hand, can't find the words.

She makes a disbelieving noise, eyes narrow. "I'll never forgive you if you hurt him."

Robin stomps off to the backroom before he can stop her, tell her he doesn't want to hurt Munson.

One of Eddie's friends says something that has Eddie stretching back to hear, pulling his shirt higher, flashing the dark line of a tattoo, and that's too much, that has him slamming his eyes closed, rubbing at his brow but all he can think is--

cold cinder block at his back, hot mouths and fumbling hands and long, deft fingers; desperate, bitten off moans; hands fisted into long curls; the hot, bittersweet taste of him

It was only a handful of times, quick encounters in the locker room, once under the bleachers in the gym. And Steve, he'd never--it didn't mean anything, but it meant everything, and Eddie's been all he can think of for months.

A group of middle school girls comes in, then, and he forgets about Munson as he scoops ice cream and blends milkshakes. The next time he looks to the fountain, Eddie is gone

---

Steve cleans up the remnants of a dropped milkshake at the store entrance, and his shorts are a little too tight, okay, he can feel the way they pull around his hips when he bends too much, but he has to clean the tile before the rush starts and customers complain. There's one spot, though, it's already dried, has to really put his back into it.

The food court is crowded by the time he finishes, bustling with customers. He turns to grab the bucket, and stops dead in his tracks. Munson sits on one of the built-in planters directly behind him. He was staring at Steve's polyester clad ass, but now his eyes travel up Steve's body, getting darker with desire as they go.

He's trapped in place by the force of Eddie's gaze, by the want there. They stare at each other in silence, Steve's blood thumping a vigorous rhythm.

The moment breaks when Robin's voice, calling his name, catches his attention. He turns back to his work without a word, but inside he's reeling.

---

Steve's opening alone, comes out from the back, and there Eddie is, lounging on the fountain rim with a magazine in hand. It's been a couple of days since he's been around, not since the incident. He watches as Munson languidly flips through the pages, seeming not to have a care in the world, and he--

Well, he's never really had to wait around for something he wants.

He stalks over to the fountain, stops when the tips of his sneakers touch the toes of Eddie's boots. And, yeah, he's in his dorky sailor outfit, but Munson didn't seem to mind the other day. Steve thinks maybe he likes it.

"Munson," he says. His hands are on his hips.

Eddie looks up, slow, taking Steve in. He leans back further, crosses his legs at the ankle. "Harrington."

They stare at each other. Steve starts biting his lip. Not as a move--he's nervous, suddenly, that all of this is a waste and Eddie isn't interested--but Munson's gaze hooks on his mouth, lingers, like a warm caress.

Steve's never initiated things between them before, isn't sure if it's working. He takes the chance, though, starts walking away.

He crosses through the seating area, past the counter, into the back, doesn't know for sure if Eddie is following until the door doesn't close right away behind him.

There's a single beat of a second where they watch each other and neither moves, before Eddie is on him, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into the wall.

"What the fuck is this, Harrington, huh?" They're close enough for their noses to touch. "You ignore me for months and now--"

"You're here all the fucking time," he snaps back. "Sitting in the same spot like you own the place."

"So, I'm not allowed to be at the mall now?" Eddie sneers. "God forbid I'm in sight of the king."

Steve tries to pull away. "That's not what this is, and you know it."

"Then what is it, Stevie? Spell it out for me real slow to make sure I understand." He leans in, a little, and Steve stops breathing.

Eddie's lips brush his, a gentle press that isn't quite a kiss, not yet. His knees go weak, the wall at his back the only thing holding him up, but the kiss doesn't deepen. Instead, Eddie steps back, laughs. "You think I'm this easy, sweetheart? That you can lure me with your little sailor costume and I'll come without a fight?"

"Am I wrong?"

Eddie scoffs, turns his head, and Steve thinks he overplayed it, that his misread everything.

"Fuck you, Harrington." Eddie grabs him, then, hands fisting into his sailor shirt. "Fuck you and this stupid, sexy outfit. Fuck you for knowing this would work on me."

His mouth presses against Steve's throat, and he moans, clinging to Eddie's jacket.

"Listen to you, sweetheart," Eddie murmurs. "Making all those desperate, pathetic sounds for me. Almost like you missed me or something."

"I did." He groans as Eddie's mouth moves along his jaw. "Missed you so much, haven't been able to stop thinking about you."

Eddie sinks his teeth into Steve's cheek, and he has to stifle his shout. He's harder than he can remember ever being before, thinks he could come just from the feel of Eddie's teeth in his skin.

"That's not what you told Billy," Eddie says. "When he almost caught us."

"I didn't want him to hurt you," he gasps. "I--I didn't want him to have a reason."

Eddie pulls away, Steve grasping after him. "I can handle Hargrove."

"He hit me in the head with a plate." Steve points to the small scar on his forehead. "That's how I got that concussion last year."

"Oh," Eddie blinks. He cards his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling it out of the way to see the scar better. "Sweetheart. I thought--" he swallows, throat working. "I--I keep coming here to see you. I wanted--"

His hand falls to Steve's neck, drawing him in. For a second, Steve thinks it's another tease, but Eddie does kiss him this time. It's deep, desperate, so thorough he thinks Eddie's memorizing the taste of him. He doesn't want it to ever stop, not for a second.

Outside, someone starts hammering on the counter bell, shouting for service.

They slip apart, Eddie still gently cradling the back of Steve's neck. "Come over tonight?" Eddie's eyes are so dark, wanting, he could drown in them.

"Yes." Because there is no other answer.

He lets Eddie out the back door just as Robin yells from the front, "Harrington! We have a customer! I haven't clocked in yet!"

"Be right there," he yells back, but not fast enough that she doesn't catch a glimpse of Eddie slipping out.

She whirls to him, brow in an angry furrow. "Steve! I told you not to hurt him!"

He can't stop his smile. "Buckley, I promise you, Munson can take care of himself."

Stobin sketch night 💜

name a more fix-it-fic shippable character than steve harrington i’ll wait

I find it strange that, although music is very present in Stranger Things fics, Michael Jackson is never mentioned. Seriously, I've never read a single steddie fic in which one of his songs appears.

[Eddie, Robin and Steve in a sleepover]

Robin: [sleeping]

Steve: How is she already asleep?

Eddie: Maybe is the lack of guilt on her conscience.

Steve: Uh, couldn't be me.

humor

based on this

You get me, that's definitely the dynamic.

Like they would just be there standing and Steve would talk here and there with apparently random things and the whole party is just like "wtf Steve, how are you communicating with them???"

Also, idk but i imagine them just making the things Steve needs appear out of nowhere. Like he would run out of milk and the next time Steve opens the fridge there’s a brand new cartoon of milk.

I love Steve has bad parents as much as the next person AND i eat that shit up in every fic i read, but, but– i saw a tiktok with those "what creature is watching you depending on your month" slideshows, so now i have the image of Steve having some shadow parents stuck in my head.

Therefore, now i had to add that to him having bad human parents but at the same time some shy, protective and loving shadow parents.

He doesn’t consider the Harringtons his parents anymore, excuse me, his parents are those shadows that seem to stare at your soul with their bright pure white eyes and none existent characteristic features apart from their silhouettes, thank you very much.

He loves them.

So every time someone asks Steve about his parents he has to make mental gymnastics about if it's OK to talk about the shadow ones or if it's a situation where he has to lie through his teeth about the biological ones.

Steve is just happy to have someone who cares about him and goes to see his games and recitals (because you can pray Steve plays the piano away over my cold death hands) even when no one apart of him notice them (and a few unlucky ones– Eddie, i'm looking at you).

I wonder how that might work, the party must have their own theories about Steve's parents, none of them it's about they being literal shadow creatures/ entities, though.

I think most of them think they are neglectful, no, they’re not; you just can’t see them because they don't want Steve's friends to freak out.

After the fight with Billy, Steve needs someone to woke him up and take care of him for a bit, he said his parents would do it but every time someone goes to check on him he's alone. And Hopper gets suspicious because he doesn’t remember the last time he saw the Harringtons.

Also, Billy starts having so much bad luck and can not stop seeing these shadow figures everywhere, it's probably just his imagination and a bunch of coincidences.

Why is Steve so calm about monsters? It has nothing to do about his parents being literal shadow creatures, ofc. And if in the middle of fighting demodogs he got some help, nobody notice it.

I just– imagine the party's reaction when they found out? Gold

Robin is the first to meet them ofc, following the whole party and then Eddie realizing that "THEY WERE YOUR PARENTS!????" when he process enough the fact that yes, he wasn't seeing things in the corner of every basketball game he went to stare at Steve.

So... I'm writing a fic. It's been sitting on my drafts for over six months, that's why I think it's time to post it even though I barely have anything more written.

Maybe now that it's published I'll have more motivation, anyways; here it is:

Erlking. / (ˈɜːlˌkɪŋ) / noun. German myth: a malevolent spirit who carries children off to death.

Jonathan just wanted to find his brother and was looking wherever he could, and if 'wherever' meant Harrington's backyard, he would look at it.

It was just that Jonathan was expecting to find his brother. Not... King Steve and Eddie 'The Freak' Munson having a pretty enthusiastic make up session.

Or. Stranger things through out the seasons with established steddie, Steve being friends with everyone, Hopper and Wayne being surrogate fathers and death lurking at every corner of Steve's life.

Archive Warnings:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death (temporary).

Categories: Gen, M/M

Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationships:

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington & Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington & The Party, Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington & Everyone, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Additional Tags:

Steve Harrington-centric, Queer Steve Harrington, Queer Eddie Munson, Canon Rewrite, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Secret Relationship, Jonathan Byers & Steve Harrington Friendship, The Party as Family (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington Acting as The Party's Big Brother, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Platonic Soulmates Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Protective Eddie MunsonProtective Wayne Munson, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, Found Family, Everyone Loves Steve Harrington, Final Boss Vecna, Death, Temporary Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Talks About Death, Body Horror, Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning, POV Multiple, POV Outsider, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Gratuitous use of italics, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Tag – Freeform.

Headcanon that Jonathan doesn't like to be called Jon or Jonnie because it's too close to Lonnie. It's either Jonathan or nothing. . .he didn't realize there was another option until Steve called him Nate.

"Why?" Jonathan would blurt out.

"Yeah, it would be cute, don't you think? Nate and Nancy?" Steve said and smiled a crooked smile.

Steve stared at him with his wide, very expressive eyes, and Jonathan stared back for a moment. He turned on his heel and walked back to Nancy.

"Uh, yeah, you don't have to worry about choosing one of us, I think I'm in love with Steve, too," Jonathan said.

"What?!" Nancy asked.

"Also, I will accept Nate as a nickname," Jonathan said.