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withacapitalp · 1 year

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Happy birthday Cass!!! I don't know if you remember this, but this was the first thing I wrote that started our friendship so I wrote a little add on as a birthday present and I hope you like it <3 @henderdads

Eddie noticed everything.

Eddie noticed the exact shade of brown that Steve’s eyes turned when the sunlight hits his face. He noticed that Steve cut Dustin’s sandwiches into triangles, El’s into rectangles, and always took the crusts off of Mike’s. He noticed that Steve stuck money in Wayne’s wallet when he knew that Wayne is dead asleep in his easy chair. Never enough for Wayne to catch on, just enough that Wayne could always afford a new pack of smokes if he wanted.

So of course Eddie noticed Steve's…thing about numbers.

The first time was with the shoes. Steve always seemed like a bit of a neat freak, but he had this especially weird thing about always making sure everyone’s shoes were lined up in perfect order.

The next thing was the steps while they were walking. It was like his boyfriend would purposefully miss the doorway, walk a few steps farther just so he could turn around and walk in on the right number.

But the rings….it’s the thing with the rings that makes Eddie confront him.

When he came home that night and found Steve shaking in a ball on the floor, Eddie had just held him, and then he had done his best to try and let them move past it. Steve would pick his rings in the morning, and Eddie would be content to just let Steve have his quirks. That would work.

But the curiosity continued to grow as the coincidences continued to mount and before too long Eddie couldn’t ignore it any more.

“So what’s special about seven?” Eddie asked as Steve slid the last ring off for the day. It was a thick black one with angel wings on one side and demon wings on the other. It was Steve’s favorite.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve said with far too much casualness, keeping his eyes firmly on their joined fingers.

“Baby,” Eddie said softly, leaning in close and touching their foreheads, “You don’t have to tell me, but please don’t lie,”

“Nothing,” Steve finally whispered, pulling back, “There’s nothing.

God, Eddie loved Steve with all his heart, but sometimes it really was just like pulling teeth.

“Stevie-”

“I’m not lying,” Steve said, quickly cutting Eddie off. He was starting to tap again, drumming the fingers of his free hand against his thigh in that oh so familiar pattern, “There’s nothing special about the number seven. Nothing important,”

“But?” Eddie prompted when Steve trailed off. His boyfriend oepneed and closed his mouth a few time

“But I can’t stop counting to it,” Steve blurted out in a rush, turning away from Eddie and burying his face in his hands

“To seven,” Eddie clarified, still unable to understand.

“Seven kids, Seven adults, my birthday is July 7th.” Steve said, muffled but clearly filled with shame, “I can't stop looking for sevens, because if I stop, then someone will get hurt, and it'll be my fault,”

Eddie's breath left his lungs, making the room feel too small. He knew Steve had a thing about sevens but this…this was beyond anything he could have thought of.

He must have been doing a pretty terrible job of hiding the horror on his face, because the second Steve looked up he huffed out a bitter little laugh and wrapped his arms tight around his middle.

“I know that makes me crazy, okay? I know that. I know that I'm crazy, I know that it means nothing. I know, I know, I know,” Steve said, growing more and more frantic with every word. Eddie crawled to the edge of the bed next to him, putting an arm around Steve's shoulder and holding him tight.

“But I can't stop, Eddie. I can't stop, I can't stop,” Steve admitted in a broken whisper, falling into his arms and breaking down in a very uncharacteristic, very terrifying way.

“I can't stop because if I do you'll get jumped at the school, and Robin will get in a car accident, and the gate is gonna reopen, and the kids are gonna die and, and- I can't stop. I can't stop. I can't stop.”

Steve continued to mutter into Eddie's shoulder as he fell apart. Over and over, until he cried himself to sleep.

He couldn't stop. Which meant Steve had tried to.

Which meant Steve wanted to.

The word finally hit him as Eddie tucked the blanket around Steve and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend's forehead, lying down next to him and holding him close. It really was the perfect word for the situation, but the word that created a host of other complications. Still Eddie couldn't make it leave his head as he laid awake the entire night.

Not a habit. Not an addiction.

It was a compulsion.

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #steddie #st drabble #st4 #happy birthday Lex 2 #ocd #obsessive compulsive disorder #steve Harrington has ocd

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interview-condition-question-d · 1 month

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https://sharon-917.ludgu.top/m/GgjKhYZ

#saiki kusuo #sabine jemeljanova #drew barrymore #scene #alex ovechkin #andrej pejic #ocd #steve rogers smut #fnaf fanart #gadgets #valentino

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snowangeldotmp3 · 11 months

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mrs. click's class, october 1983... with a little bit of a twist.

#tammy doesn't have mrs. click's class in this one oopsie #ronance #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #SORRY 2 STEVE I PROMISE I DON'T HATE HIM #robin's just going through a lot right now okay? and it's not going to get any better #bc this is a prequel to rebel robin: surviving the upside down #LMAOOO she's gonna go through it </3 #also please clap i had to fight my ocd to say 'nancy goddamn wheeler'#wip weekend #WOOO

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hargrove-mayfields · 5 months

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My Harringrove Relay Race Piece!

Word Count: ~700

Pure sfw romantic fluff 💕

@harringrove-relay-race

_________

Carol got a flat tire and can’t make it in time.

So here Billy and Steve are.

Sat on the floor, ice packs in hand like weapons, the two of them working as a tactical team to keep Heather's brain from overheating. That's not how it works, but Billy’s ocd brain heard that cold helps her feel better after seizures on a hard day, and sort of ran with it.

Their best friend is epileptic, full time under the care of their other best friend. The boys are no medical professionals like Carol, but they’re functioning off of enough practical knowledge to be trusted to keep her safe.

Heather, however, doesn’t like feeling crowded.

Now that she’s responsive and relaxed again, propped up on some pillows, she complains, “Really, I don’t need babysat, you guys.”

Steve instantly backs off. He understands the feeling of overstimulation, comparing in his head the feeling of having a crowd around after a meltdown, blurry forms of faces getting too close.

Billy would. But his instincts are screaming at him to hold it in place. Keep her cool, or something bad will happen. Something he doesn’t even wanna think about.

He swallows his nervousness thickly, “We’ll stay ‘til Carol gets here to help you out.”

“You’ve said that a million times, bub.” Heather smiles softly, understanding, at the same time really trying to get Billy to understand she’s okay.

That makes him sort of sheepish. Embarrassed by the part of himself he always wished he could control. He forces a little smile too, “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Of course not, sugar lump. But Steve looks like he’s going to faint. And you look tired.” She gently pushes on his cheek to make him look at Steve, and yeah, he does look worn the hell out. Damn it. He’s spent too much energy caring for everyone else again. Billy would be drowning in guilt, if not for Heather’s reassurances, “I don't feel seizure-y anymore. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Caught between two sides of his own thinking, Billy starts to chew the inside of his cheek. Not even noticing he’s doing it.

Until Steve interrupts, quiet to show he isn’t mad, just observing, “Bad stim.”

He always carries at least two chew necklaces for that reason. Usually his favorite cloth one, and a rubber one for Billy. The chewies hurt his own teeth, but he wears it anyways, just in case his Billy needs it.

It’s romantic really.

And it is as well when Steve loops it off of his own neck, and places it over Billy’s, giving him an easy fix to the harmful chewing.

Appreciative, Billy kisses the palm of Steve’s hand as he puts it on him,

Watching the moment, Heather snorts a little laugh at them. “You two are so lovey-dovey. It’s disgusting.”

Billy rolls his eyes back, “Aw, you’re just saying that.”

In the short stretch of silence that follows, Steve decides to scoot a little closer and lay his head on Billy’s shoulder. At first, he thinks he might just want some affection, but the action suddenly reminds Billy of something.

“Do you wanna tell her?” He asks Steve, trying to be quiet about it.

She hears anyway. Propping herself up, Heather wiggles her brows, “Ooh, tell me what?”

“Promise not to have another seizure?”

“You know that’s not the way it works.”

“I don’t know… this is pretty big.” Alright, so maybe he’s nervous and stalling for time. So what?

Heather’s voice gets squeaky in frustration, “Just tell me, William!”

The anticipation is too much. Steve declares it himself, tapping his hands excitedly, “We’re getting married!!”

Grocery bags and car keys are dropped to the floor behind them. Carol’s home, and she has Tommy with her.

Billy and Steve will be the first of their friends to get married. It might help that they don’t have college or kids or budding careers in the way, but Billy’s proud of the achievement anyways.

Tommy flashes a signature cheeseburger smile and gives a thumbs up behind Carol, who herself shrieks, “What?! Tell. Me. Everything!!”

Everything including Billy dropping the ring under the couch and losing it, or Steve crying so hard he got the hiccups, and couldn’t eat the cookies Billy baked to celebrate?

He won’t say no, but they’re going to be here for a while.

________

Hope y’all liked this little snippet! And if you enjoyed this, I bet you’re all gonna love what our next poster has in store! So excited and thrilled to announce the very talented, very inspired- @nymphwriter!

#harringroverelayrace #harringrove relay race #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #heather holloway #carol perkins #tommy hagan #my writing #ocd billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #autistic steve harrington #epileptic heather holloway

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solarmorrigan · 5 months

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aaaand Steve with OCD 💕

Okay, this one I actually don't have any text down for. I made a post about Steve having OCD last year and I really like the concept, and I want to turn it into more of a fic than a "guys, imagine with me" post

If I were to develop it more, Eddie would probably be a great way to explore the topic. Shipping reasons aside, he's the one coming in late, viewing Steve and his compulsions with fresh eyes. Everyone else has gotten used to Steve's "quirks" and they don't really think twice about them; in some cases, they've even learned to accommodate them.

They don't question why Steve needs to do things in a certain order, why he needs objects around the house to be in certain places, why he needs to tap the roof of the car three times before he gets in, they just know that he does. That's just Steve

And Eddie - well, look, he's not questioning it, exactly. Like, he's not one to cast aspersions on anyone else's coping mechanisms, it's just that he worries that these particular coping mechanisms aren't actually helping

Sure, on a good day, Steve gets to do everything in exactly the right order, everything is exactly where it's supposed to be, he gets to complete his routines and everyone is safe and he's happy. But when something gets interrupted--as it often does, because that's life--Steve tends to look like he's one shirt caught on the doorknob away from a complete meltdown

It's a delicate balance, and Eddie's starting to wonder if maybe he's the only one noticing that Steve could easily tip over the side

Or! I could go a sort of lighter route and make it, like, a 5+1 fic about Eddie noticing different behaviors Steve exhibits, and one time he learns how to help, or something like that. I haven't quite decided yet

#devondespresso #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington has ocd #sorry this one's a bit vague I think I'm outta brain juice for the day??#answers from solar #wip meme

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kas-eddie-munson · 1 year

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(This is inspired by this fic by @withacapitalp ! ^^ I wanted to do my own take on Steve with OCD ^^)

Content warning for a panic attack, OCD, and intrusive thoughts involving gore!

~ ~ ~

Steve always hated knives.

Well, not ALWAYS.

He was about five or six, and his nanny was in the other room, talking on the phone. He asked her for a penut butter sandwich, but she told him to wait, that this was important. Maybe it had been five minutes, or maybe an hour. His child brain couldn't tell, could only tell that he was hungry.

So he started rooting through the cabinets. He knew where a lot of things were. He'd seen his nanny in here often enough. He managed to pull out a plate, bread, peanut butter, jelly. He grabbed a butter knife, the final instrument, and began to work.

Spreading peanut butter and jelly was harder than it looked. He got frustrated as the bread ripped, and the ingredients barely spread. Eventually, he decided it was good enough and closed the sandwich to take the crust off. He wasn't a big crust fan.

Cutting with a knife was difficult, too. He pressed hard and moved the knife back and forth, but it still didn't cut very well. It also made an obnoxiously loud scraping sound as he worked. He furrowed his brow in concentration.

Suddenly came the clack clack clack of his nanny's footsteps, and, well. She wasn't happy.

"Steve!"

Her eyes were bulging and she lurched forward, yanking the butter knife from his grip. His stomach dropped and he froze. She never talked to him like that.

"Be careful! Knives are too dangerous for boys your age to use without a grown-up! You could have hurt yourself," she set the knife far away on the table, as though its mere proximity was a threat, and crouched down to look at him at his level.

He still felt frozen as he nodded and mumbled apologies.

When Steve was a few years older, and another nanny taught him how to use a knife safely, he was always careful with it. He never cut towards his fingers, as instructed, and he turned the sharp part away from his plate when he set it down, just to be extra safe.

When puberty hit, he taught himself to shave. It was an ordeal, but a necessary one. He worked slowly and carefully. He made sure to push the razor to the very back of the shelf above the skink when he was done, so it was less likely to fall and cut his hands.

Then the upside down happened. He wouldn't notice until years later that his distaste for sharp objects was getting worse. He always made sure to grip the bat tightly when he held it. To be hyperaware of where it was, where it was pointing.

Then he was at work. It was a normal day, until it wasn't, and then he was in the boathouse. He was up against a wall. And there was glass. Sharp. Ragged.

Pressed into his neck.

Dangerous.

And his heart was pounding and he was pushing his head as hard against the wall as was humanly possible and his friends were talking in the background but he could hardly tell what they were even saying because, somewhere in the back of his mind, a dangerous voice whispered, move forward.

He blinked hard. Pushed even further away. What the hell was that? Did he have a death wish or something?

Then Eddie pulled back. And Steve had to shake it off and get back to business.

The next few days passed in a blur of adrenaline and fear. Vecna was dead, but Max was hurt so bad, and Eddie barely made it out alive, and Steve, wracked with guilt that maybe they'd be okay if he had done something different, guarded their hospital beds like he needed the air in those stuffy rooms to breathe.

He didn't sleep much, or eat much, or bathe much, for about four days, until Eddie woke up.

He hated it in there, as much as he knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in that moment. Too many sharp things. He often found his gaze drifting to the IV cords inserted into the crook of Max's elbow and the back of Eddie's hand respectively, and he'd clench his fists thinking about the needle.

It was day four when he was doing this, half-eaten cafeteria food to his right from Robin, that he found his gaze once again drawn to Eddie's IV.

Yank it out.

Steve wanted to leave the room. He shook his head a little. Blinked hard. Tried to dismiss the weird thought.

Why did he think that? What if he did that on accident? He didn't want to hurt Eddie. Never, even if he hadn't fought so hard to get him here, would he want to hurt him.

That's when Eddie finally blinked his eyes open and woke up.

They had a tearful reunion. Steve reassured him that the others were okay, that Vecna was gone. He walkied Dustin and the kids in Max's room to come over, and they crowded around him, with hugs and tears in their eyes.

Steve stood on the other side of the room to give them space. He smiled fondly as he watched them catch up. He almost bumped into a poll attached to Eddie's IV. His mind flashed with imagry of him pushing it to the ground and stomping on the cord.

He decided to wait in the hall until they were done.

---

Steve and Eddie start hanging out. A lot, actually. Steve can't shake the feeling that the alternate dimension stuff can't be over yet. When he's not at work, Eddie is over. When Eddie's not over, Robin is over. When they're both busy he's with the kids. He doesn't give his fear the time of day to seep in with how busy he makes himself scheduling movie nights and trips to the arcade.

He keeps getting scary thoughts. Some of them are... new, though.

Steve starts to wonder what it would be like to hold Eddie's hand.

Steve imagines putting Eddie's hand in his mouth and biting down, hard, as he screams.

Steve wants to nudge his foot under the table.

Images flash of kicking Eddie in the balls, him doubling over in pain.

Steve finds himself getting lost in his eyes.

His head is filled with visions of jamming his fingers down Eddie's eye sockets.

He tries not to examine the thoughts too closely. Just shakes them off. Still... he wonders. Where was all this coming from? And is he gay? He goes over old memories. He loves Robin, but it's still a scary thought. Among the other scary thoughts.

All the thoughts get more and more mixed up in his head. He can hardly tell which ones are real anymore.

One night Eddie's over, and they're watching a movie, alone. Steve doesn't even remember which. Mostly they watch long enough for something to happen that prompts further conversation, and they goof around, ignoring the movie until the topic runs its course.

Eddie is wearing a new shirt. The sides are cut open, further than most of his shirts. The angle he's sitting at has it falling open even more, and Steve keeps finding his gaze drawn there when Eddie's eyes are on the screen.

It isn't too dark in the room. They have a dim lamp on, and Steve's eyes have adjusted to the lighting. So he can see a lot of detail.

There are stitches.

Steve digs his nails into the palms of his hands as grotesque images flash through his mind, and the commands start.

Tear them out.

Use your fork like a seam ripper.

Jam your fingers inside and pry his skin apart.

Steve feels like he's about to vomit. He wants to cry. He just wants this to stop. He wants Eddie to leave and he wants Eddie to hold him and he doesn't want any of that but most of all he doesn't want to snap somehow and do any of those horrible things.

He clenches his fists harder and shoves everything down and focuses on the movie.

Steve wonders if the thoughts will ease up as Eddie's wounds heal, since a lot of them are about that.

They do not.

They leave for a walk in the woods. Eddie wants to gather a bunch of rocks. For what purpose, Steve does not know. Steve is charged with lugging the rock bag around, since his bites never went as deep and are much more healed now than Eddie's.

It's ridiculously hot outside. Steve is sure his hair looks like ass in the humidity. Eddie is sweating through his shirt. Steve doesn't mind that part.

They find an open clearing with what Eddie deems "an especially exquisite selection" of rocks. Steve doesn't think they look any different, but he just smiles. Unfortunately, the lack of tree coverage makes it even hotter.

"Hey big sports guy, catch," Eddie calls as Steve feels something hit his backpack. He looks behind him and sees black cloth lying on the ground. He leans down to pick it up, then looks up at Eddie a few yards away.

Eddie is flushed, chugging down water from a bottle, some of it dripping past his mouth and down his chin and torso. His bare chest is covered with tattoos and scar tissue. Most of the stitches have been removed, it seems. Steve feels his face heat up, and then he sees it.

One of the deeper bites is still stitched up, and he has a drain attached to it. No bag is hooked up right now, but the drain is there, under the skin, peeking out. Steve wonders how deep it goes. Flashing images of yanking it out start coming and he feels nauseous as Eddie clears his throat and Steve meets his eyes in horror.

"My eyes are up here, princess," Eddie says as he smirks.

Steve ducks his head and runs his fingers through his hair. God, he hopes Eddie can't tell what he's thinking. About either topic, really. Or maybe he doesn't mind too much, about the one.

He tries to look at him, but his eyes keep trying to snap to the drain, and he knows he needs that out of his sight, fast, before the thoughts get worse.

"Dude, that's not fair." He shakes his head, still ducked down and eyes anywhere but on Eddie, as he makes his way over.

Eddie laughs bright and loud, and he pulls at his curls. "What's not fair, exactly?"

He shoves the shirt back at Eddie's chest, fingers buzzing with something as they make contact briefly with the skin of his pec. Eddie stumbles back a step and his eyes are wide.

Steve leans close and makes eye contact. "If I'm not allowed to be shirtless, neither are you, big boy." He gives his chest two quick pats before turning around and walking back the direction they came. He calls "for your modesty!" over his shoulder. It takes a few seconds before he hears Eddie's footsteps start up behind him to follow.

Eddie tells him he supposes they collected enough rocks for the day, anyway. Steve notes that Eddie didn't put the shirt back on, but he has it draped over his shoulder, and it covers the drain that way too, so Steve doesn't bring it up again. As they chat and walk home, Steve thinks Eddie looks redder than he did before. He looks cute flustered.

Is he flustered? Steve hopes so. Why does he hope so? Steve thinks he knows if he's honest with himself, but he's also scared, so he continues to try not to think about it.

---

"Alright alright! Settle down! I'll be back with snacks in less than five minutes. If you nerds haven't made a decision by then, we're putting on my pick."

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves the room and the kids' voices raise even higher in pitch, whining that his movies are always boring. The other "adults" chatter behind them on the sofa, as the kids crouch around Steve's VHS collection.

When Steve comes back, The Goonies' cover is flipped open on the floor, and the ads are starting up as the kids flip the lights and fight over the remote, messing with the volume and arguing about whether or not there was a skip button for the ads or if they just had to fast forward through them. He looks around, and his heart skips a beat as he realizes that the only seating choice left is to squish himself right next to Eddie.

Or Mike, but he was absolutely not sitting between him and Byers for two hours, or however long The Goonies was. He doubted they'd stay apart like that for long, anyway.

Eddie smirks at him from behind his hand as he sits down, their thighs pressing together, and Steve is glad it's dark in here because he's pretty sure he's blushing.

That's when he realizes what side he's sitting on. And he freezes.

Oh God.

Oh no.

This is the side with the drain.

It was touching him. It was touching him. It was right there. It was right there and if he moves the wrong way he'll hurt him. It'll catch on Eddie's shirt and he'll rip it out and blood will be everywhere.

Oh my God. He can't move, now. It would be weird. Where would he even go? He can't just sit on the floor.

Oh my God. What if he moves to leave and that's what does it. He's stuck here. He's stuck here indirectly touching the thing under Eddie's skin and his lungs feel smaller than they should and oh God he does NOT want to freak out in front of everyone.

He has to leave. He has to get out of here. How the hell can he leave???

Steve presses as hard as he can into the armrest and away from Eddie, scooting out of his seat, and looking back at Eddie's side to make sure it hasn't started to bleed. His eyes catch Eddie's and the man still on the sofa looks confused, still sitting comfortably against the back of the sofa with his arms crossed as Steve, as discreetly as possible, slips out of the room and up the stairs. He's suddenly grateful he's only wearing socks on his feet so his footsteps are quieter.

He gets upstairs and walks into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, running his hands through his hair, and taking deep breaths. He runs through the last couple minutes in his head, when. Oh God.

Did he look closely enough? Was he sure Eddie wasn't bleeding? What if it started slow? What if he didn't notice until Steve left and now he's bleeding out? What if he's on some sort of numbing agent and he WON'T notice until he PASSES OUT because it's dark and Steve isn't 100% sure he didn't see blood and he knows he must look feral right now but he just has to go check just to be sure and

He opens his door again to a surprised Eddie, hand half held up like he was about to knock. Steve's eyes drop down to his side and back again.

"Hey, Steve. Are you alright? You looked a little woozy back there." Eddie asks, uncharicatistically softly. Steve realizes he must still look wild and tries to shake away the crazy eyes.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, no worries." He runs his hand through his hair again, realizes that makes him look more anxious, and drops it. His eyes flit back and forth between Eddie's eyes and his side, and then he keeps them steady on his eyes.

Eddie eyes him skeptically. "Mind if I join you for a minute?" He gestures in the room, and Steve steps aside. Eddie closes the door behind him.

"Steve, I'm not gonna lie. I'm worried about you, and I don't think I'm the only one." Eddie steps closer to him and places his hands on Steve's shoulders gently.

Steve racks his brain. "How do you know something's wrong? Wait, what do you mean? I'm fine." Steve tries to shrug and Eddie levels him with a look. Steve feels his lungs shrinking again, and his eyes sting.

Eddie moves his hands up and down his arms a little. "Steve, you've been acting off for weeks. Flighty? You almost never sit next to me anymore. Basically the whole room conspired against you today. Is... did I do something? Did you," Eddie furrows his brows, and shakes his head, "did you, hear something about me?"

Steve shakes his head, very confused. He wasn't even actively avoiding sitting next to Eddie. How did he not notice he was doing that??? What else is he doing without noticing?

Eddie rubs his shoulders again. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Breathe for me. Slowly. Try to breathe."

Steve does try to breathe slower, and sinks to the floor. Eddie follows him, and talks to him as he tries to calm down.

"Stevie, you need to tell somebody what's going on so we can help you."

Steve shakes his head vehemently.

"Why not? I'm not going to force you, but. I'm not gonna judge you or anything. You're my friend, Steve."

Steve looks into Eddie's eyes and sees nothing but sincerity. He isn't sure what he'd see if he told him the truth.

"I don't think you wanna know," Steve says softly.

Eddie bites his lips and looks away for a second. "Are you scared?" Steve nods. Eddie looks back, nods, and looks away again.

"Look, Steve, if it makes you feel better, if you tell me the scary thing, then I'll tell you something scary, too." Eddie looks back at him, lip still between his teeth.

Steve feels something warm inside, and he smiles the tiniest bit. "You don't have to do that, Eds. I. I just," Steve takes a big breath. "I don't want you to hate me. Or be scared."

Eddie shakes his head and looks off into space again. "I kinda doubt my thing is the same as your thing, but either way. Steve, I don't think you can do anything to make me hate you. You're one of my best friends, Steve."

Steve isn't sure that's true, but he leans his head back against the wall. His breathing is more even now, and the tears have slowed. He thinks for a minute.

"I -" he closes his eyes, "I get these. These..." He tries to come up with how to word it. Eddie looks at him with the kindest eyes Steve's maybe ever seen, and he braces himself. "I get these words in my head?" Eddie tilts his head slightly, looking confused, but no less kind and patient. "Like. Someone is telling me to do something I don't want to do?"

Eddie's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh Steve. I'm so sorry. I, I think my aunt had something like that. Do you, do you see things sometimes? Things that other people don't see?"

Steve shakes his head again. He actually laughs a little in surprise.

"No! No, not like that. Not like, halucinations. Like. The thoughts are me. But they're not me? Like, they're the things that I would least ever actually want to do, but they just get stuck there? And they won't shut up? They're like, opposite thoughts. Like I think the opposite of the thing I want to do, and then I don't want to do it so badly but it still is just like stuck there repeating because I don't want to do it so badly?"

He looks at Eddie, who seems contemplative.

"Can I ask what the thoughts are about, Steve?"

He shakes his head.

"No. It's bad, Eddie. It's so weird, and gross. Like," he takes a big breath and continues, "they're about people getting hurt, Eds. People I care about. I just," he starts to cry again, looks at Eddie. "What if I do it on accident? What if I like. What if I hurt you, Eds? I don't want to; I'd never want to, but what if I did? On accident?"

He starts sobbing again. Steve feels Eddie's hands cup his cheeks, brushing away tears with his thumbs. He's honestly kind of surprised Eddie's still here. He probably shouldn't have said that much.

"Steve. I trust you. So much, Steve. I know you would never hurt me. And I can't say I know what's going on in your head, but I know you. You're Steve! You save people! You don't hurt them. And you won't hurt me."

Steve melts into Eddie's hands. He isn't sure Eddie's right, but he knows one thing. He cares about this man, so much.

"Thank you." He puts his hands on top of Eddie's. "Thank you, Eds." Eddie smiles at him, but looks close to tears himself.

"Did you, did you want to talk about it? Your thing?"

Eddie's smile falters. "I don't want to make it about me, but I suppose I did say I would. Do you want to hear it?"

Steve nods. "If you want to tell me."

Eddie nods. "Okay. Well." He closes his eyes. Nods again. "I'm gay, Steve."

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Oh my God." He's suddenly aware that their hands are still on his face. "Eds. I think I'm gay too."

Eddie's eyes widen. His mouth opens, then closes.

Steve's not sure exactly what comes over him, but he leans forward and presses their lips together. Eddie kisses back.

They talk more about it, later. About the thoughts. Steve isn't exactly sure why, but just knowing that Eddie knows, and doesn't hate him, helps. And there are times when the thoughts are better, and the thoughts are worse. But knowing Eddie's on his side makes it a bit better.

~~~

Thanks for reading this!!! If anyone doesn't know a lot about OCD but is curious about Steve's presentation, here's some more info:

(He has Harm OCD, so you can also just google that, but this is a p thorough intro ^^)

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walk-run96 · 2 hours

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#andrej pejic #ocd #steve rogers smut #fnaf fanart #gadgets #valentino #the amazing world of gumball #Zuhair Murad #jungkook icons #writers on tumblr

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bludhavensbirdboy · 2 years

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You see two cishet characters I see a trans masc gay Eddie and a genderfluid bi steve we aren’t the same

#i watch stranger things in a more gay and intellectual way than most #they are queer as fuck they told me themselves it’s canon now baby #genderfluid steve harrington #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #trans eddie munson #don’t even get me started on my other hcs for these characters we will be here for days #like dude imo Steve is deaf and has ocd #also steve is a cat person I don’t make the rules #Steve got a cat when his hearing started to get worse cause he liked the feeling over the vibrations of the cat purring #and Eddie had autism and Tourette’s and I won’t take no for an answer #pls give me your hcs for stranger things characters like any of them I love to hear them #irrelevant tags >#steveddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #stranger things

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shieldofiron · 10 months

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Meals on Wheels

(Harringrove, just a flirty little drabble for @disabledbillyandsteveweek day 2 prompt-Family)

Steve thought it was maybe the stupidest thing he’d ever thought of. He and Robin had been having a sleepover and somehow the subject got around to tattoos.

“I would get a pin up girl but that might be tacky,” Robin sighed.

“As far as I’m concerned, the tackier the better,” Steve rolled up to his countertop and poured another glass of wine.

“Oh yeah, what are you getting? A nail bat?”

“Only if it says ‘who wants to get nailed,’” Steve snarled.

“What about a tramp stamp?” Robin took the glass of wine and sipped it. “Eat me.”

Steve thew a saucy look over his shoulder, dripping with king Steve charm, “Please. Look at me. It would say meals on wheels.”

Robin giggled, “Yeah, as long as we’re getting tattoos of wishful thinking I should get one on my hand that says, ‘Pussy destroyer.’”

“‘M just in a dry spell.”

“Yeah, okay,” Robin rolled her eyes, “Would you actually get ‘Meals on Wheels?’”

“Eat fast, eat fresh,” Steve quipped. “I’ll do it if you do, Madam Pussy Destroyer.”

Robin giggled loopily, “You know I did see an article about a tattoo parlor that specializes in sensory safe tattoos.”

“What’cha mean?” Steve wasn’t drunk, but he was a little tipsy on their good fortune in securing a wheelchair accessible apartment this close to the city center. Sure, a lot of rent had to come from their was Starcourt hush money, after Steve been paralyzed and a flayed Jonathan Byers has saved the world, but they he still found it and so Steve was happy to fork over the cash. The location was ideal, even if the city noise sometimes wrecked havoc on Robin’s sensory issues so they’d installed some extra sound proofing. But he wasn’t sure how a tattoo parlor was a part of that.

“It’s super cool, the owner has OCD so he made it so each room is private and soundproofed. They don’t play loud music, and offer headphones if the buzzing is too much, though you can bring your own movies. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but some of those places are just too loud and busy,” Robin sighed.

“So you’ve always wanted to be a pussy destroyer?”

“No, shut up,” she blushed. “A Lilly, for my grandma.”

“Well maybe tomorrow we can go check it out.

“I wouldn’t want to do it alone.” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Steve shrugged, “ok, you convinced me. It’s tramp stamp time.”

“No, you’re not serious,” Robin giggled.

“You’re my family. If you bleed, I bleed. You tramp stamp, I tramp stamp,” Steve said, only laughing when Robin did.

But then the next morning, his head pounding, he didn’t have too many defenses when Robin had looked at him with those puppy dog eyes and said she’d called and made them an appointment. She’d even brought in his motorized wheelchair and said that she’d buy bagels on the way.

But he was regretting it when they were finally there, and Steve was contemplating actually getting something permanently inked into his skin.

He wasn't sure if he was cool enough for this. He definitely wasn't cool enough for the artist that came in and introduced themselves to Robin. Their name was Eddie and they were practically covered in tattoos, wearing some cool unpronounceable band name t-shirt that they'd sewn to a mini tutu skirt to make a dress. They took Robin back to her room after they went over her sketch, a lilly painted with pale watercolor shades.

Robin squeezed his hand, "You're not gonna chicken out on me, right? I booked the only two person room they have so if you don't show up, I will know."

"I'm not chickening out," Steve laughed, "Though I hope your grandma isn't watching from heaven, because she'll probably see my ass."

Robin snorts, "She definitely saw your ass this morning when I helped you out of the shower. She was a tough old bird, a little of your pale ass won't scare her."

Steve snorted, "I'll see you in a moment."

Steve was starting to feel a little nervous. Honestly after Starcourt, he hadn't been interested in hiding his sexuality at all. Life seemed too short, he might as well unapologetically be himself, bi and disabled and ADHD and slutty and everything that was himself. But maybe the double entendre tramp stamp was a little too out there.

And then... he'd come in.

"Hi, Steve, right?" The guy was stunning, with long blonde curls streaked with blue piled up into a big bun on the top of his head. He offered a large, warm hand and Steve almost melted when they shook.

"Yeah, hi."

"I'm Billy, I'm the owner," Billy smiled, and Steve swore that he could see a cartoon smile, like Billy was an anime prince. An anime prince that had a giant seratonin tattoo that was splattered with that looked like watercolor. "I hope you don't mind that I use some hand sanitizer. I'm working on my handshake thing, but..."

"It's fine, ah... do you mind if I have some too?" Steve held out his hand.

Billy squirted Steve out a little of their fancy hand sanitizer.

"So I have to be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect when we got the call for a wheelchair themed tramp stamp that said meals on wheels," Billy licked along his lower lip, "But now that I'm seeing you it makes more sense."

Steve could feel himself turning red, "It was kind of a joke-"

"I mean," Billy leaned in, "You do look good enough to eat."

Steve shivered, blush spreading up to his hairline.

Billy straightened, "God, sorry. Sorry, that was so inappropriate-"

"It's fine."

"No, really, I can see if Heather is free to take over the appointment, except that-" Billy bit his lip, "I think I'll still have to be the one to help you onto the table. Maybe if Eddie and Heather work together... God, not that you're like... too big or... shit... I'm sorry."

Steve laughed, "Really, it's fine."

"You're not too big, you're like... perfect," Billy ran a hand down his face, "Sorry. I'm sorry. Chrissy should know she can't give me the pretty guys, I clearly can't handle it."

Steve glanced up, giving him that King Steve sparkle right back, and seeing the way it made Billy's eyes go wide and nervous.

Steve pressed on the joystick to his chair with one finger, running a hand along the tip flirtatiously.

Billy's eyes darted to his hand, and then back to his face.

"I think you can handle me," Steve said smugly, "Don't you wanna try?”

Steve left that day with a bit of a sore ass, though the sensation was soothed a lot by the business card that had Billy's personal number scrawled on the back.

"I can't believe the meals on wheels tattoo got you a date," Robin rolled her eyes as she attached Steve's chair to the floor of his van, tightening the straps down with a shake of her head.

"What can I say," Steve shrugged, "Billy looks like a hungry boy to me."

Robin gagged, "You are my family. But never, ever, say that again."

@intothedysphoria thanks for answering my question on this one.

#disabledbillyandsteveweek #disabled steve harrington #wheelchair user steve harrington #OCD Billy Hargrove #i adore them #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #and some adorable platonic disabled stobin whats not to love

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