trybeforeyoudeny
Bitchin’
24 years old, she/her. Bi Cat mom.AO3- CupOfTeaStories This is my secondary blog for fandoms All of my posts are under #teatime
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THE THIRD GENDER
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Eddie bringing his lil crew along to Steve’s poke-salon. Because everyone deserves a good pamper session, even if they’re gooey. Or bitey. Or likely to burst into song. (Eddie is sometimes all of these things at once)
@t-boyeddie brought the inspiration again and put together teams for all the stranger things characters over HERE. Check it out 💕 so fun!
And a shout-out to @inklessletter for chatting ideas and solidifying my need to do a little more with this au ✨
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He doesn’t know what those stains are 🤔
I got bored doing my work, get a still redraw
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I'm begging you to take my hand
break my plans
that's my man
🎇🎇🎇
@henderdads
This is based on this post over here and also in the promise of they loving me forever for it.
I'm sorry.
I love love.
They do, too.
The original photograph is STUNNING!!
(Can you believe I almost did not trust my own process here? Thank you for staying with me)
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Saw the Barbie movie the other day and Billie Eilish's "What Was I Made For" (click the song title to listen to it lol) hit so fuckin different good lord. Anyway, it's perfect for Steve angst with a dash of platonic Stobin and romantic Steddie fluff so ;)
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Steve is five when he learns that he was made to keep his parents together. At least, that's why his mother made him.
He learns it one night when his father is staying late at the company (before his mother started accompanying him all the time, leaving an empty house and Steve behind; Steve can confidently say his presence did, in fact, fix their relationship: it gave them something to unite against). His mother is three large glasses of red wine in, draped inelegantly on the couch and slurring her words with a glassy film covering her eyes.
"Steven, you were supposed...supposed to make him stay," she says, her fourth glass of wine dangerously close to spilling across the white rug. "An-and he's still gone! What did we do wrong?"
Despite the use of "we," Steve knows very well (even at the age of five) that his mother means "What did you do wrong?" He doesn't have an answer for her--he never will--and that seems to be just one more thing she holds against him.
Steve is seven when he learns that he was made to keep the family name strong and respected. At least, that's why his father made him.
He learns it when his father brings him to work, his stern expression and tense shoulders telling Steve to behave himself, to be seen and not heard the entire day (he did, and it worked a little too well; after falling asleep on the couch, his father had forgotten him at work, leaving him to spend the night in the locked office). His father is sitting at his desk, expensive pen in hand and phone just hung up after a tense conversation that ended with the most genuine smile Steve has ever seen from him.
"Steven, I hope you've been paying attention today," he says, placing the pen on the desk and fixing him with a suffocating gaze. "You'll be working here one day, and I expect you to make something of yourself when you do. You're to be a model man, someone I can proudly introduce to others."
When his father says proudly, Steve knows he means that he can't do that now because Steve has yet to make something of himself. Steve nods once, says a firm but not too loud, "Yes, sir," and his father goes back to work.
Steve is sixteen when he learns Nancy made him her boyfriend for...for a distraction? Because it's what was expected of her? Because she was curious? At least, that's what Nancy seems to be saying.
Honestly, Steve isn't sure she knows, either. But she definitely knows that he wasn't what she wanted, that he wasn't what she expected, that he couldn't live up to the expectations she had made for him.
Either way, he learned it over the course of their relationship, but it all hit him at the very end, when fights and names (idiot, asshole, and dick, to list a few) compounded into a breakup that left him aching, angry, empty, hurt, and desperate to know what he did wrong.
Maybe then he'd be able to save himself from making the same mistake over and over. Because it must be him, right? It must be something he's doing; if only he could figure out what that is.
Steve is seventeen when he learns that maybe he was made to be a shield. At least, that's how he understands the plan Dustin comes up with wherein he calls Steve their tank.
He learns it when they're huddled together at some point, readying to face demodogs and whatever else the Upside Down has decided to throw at them. Dustin is explaining the plan, his eyes bright as he throws around terms Steve can't recognize. "And Steve is going to be our tank," he says.
"What's a tank?" Steve asks, at least certain they don't mean the military kind of tank.
"Like a meatshield, duh," Mike tells him, the explanation short and quick and then disregarded in favor of the rest of the plan.
Maybe Steve should have felt hurt, but part of him is more excited by the fact that he could do well as a tank, a meatshield. He could, in fact, be made for that role. He's great at taking a punch, great at jumping back to his feet, great at putting himself between the kids and whatever wants to kill them.
The only way he could possibly fail at being a shield is by dying, and he doesn't plan to die just yet.
Steve is eighteen when he wonders if maybe he's made to love. At least, that's a realization he has after befriending Robin, getting tortured together, and learning he doesn't need romance to love someone. It's a realization he throws himself into wholeheartedly one day when he looks at Robin and sees her trying to drink a slushie with a Twizzler.
"I think I love you," he blurts out, unable to hold the words in and feeling bad for it when Robin subsequently chokes on Twizzler and Cherry slush.
She spits out the slushie, tosses her Twizzler into the cup, and spins around to look at Steve. "We've definitely talked about this, dingus," she says, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "You got amnesia or something?"
Steve rolls his eyes and pushes her. "Not like that. I mean, like, a friend. I love you, Robin. You mean a lot to me, and I hope we're still friends when we're 80 so we can make fun of other people in our nursing home."
Robin breaks out into a grin that she quickly suppresses. "Ugh, affection," she sneers, turning her nose up. It lasts all of three seconds before she glances at Steve from the corner of her eye and adds, "I love you, too, dingus."
Steve is nineteen when he decides that he's made for love, to give and receive and bask in its warmth. At least, that's what he decides when he's with Eddie, sprawled across his bed and listening to the mixtape he made for Steve.
They've been dancing around each other for a while up to that point: obnoxiously obvious flirtations, finding any excuse to brush against each other or share space or lean together, creating reasons to hang out with some as simple as "I'm just bored." Steve has been enjoying it; they both seem to understand what's inevitable, and they're just taking their time getting there.
And right now, listening to Eddie sing along to Metallica, Steve thinks that he wants to stop dancing around each other and dance together, instead. So, he turns onto his side, places a hand on Eddie's arm, waits until Eddie is looking at him with a bright smile and curious eyes, and says, "I was made for loving you."
Instead of the joy Steve was expecting, Eddie just looks confused. "How'd you know that was the next song?" he asks.
"What?"
"On the mix tape. I Was Made for Loving You by KISS. That's the next song," Eddie explains.
Steve blinks and frowns. He sits up, throws a leg over Eddie's hips, and settles on top of him. Eddie doesn't look surprised, since it's not the first time Steve has done this. Usually, it just means Steve wants him to pay close attention. "I didn't know it was the next song, Eds."
It takes a few moments for Eddie to fully understand what he means. And Steve gets a front-row seat to the confusion that morphs into understanding that morphs into amazement. "Oh," Eddie breathes, pushing himself up to rest on his elbows. "Could you say it again? I don't think I heard you the first time, Stevie."
Steve snorts but humors Eddie anyway. "I was made for loving you," he says, softer this time and leaning closer.
"Yeah, much clearer that time." Eddie's grin is wide and blinding before he closes the distance between them. "I was made for loving you, too, sweetheart," he whispers back, his words pressed against Steve's lips and searing into his heart.
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reposting this because i’m seeing barbie today!!!!!!
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Steve an Robin working in a supermarket an Eddie being one of those customers who cracks that "cant see a barcode on this, must mean it's free right?" joke which usually makes everyone roll their eyes but Steve decides to choose violence and
"I dont see a barcode on you..." an he's leaning on the check out all kinds of flirty "does that mean you're free later?" Which promptly causes Eddie to just. Short circuit.
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you're hot
written for @steddiemicrofic prompt: pool
442 words | rated T (out of an abundance of caution for Steve's vaguely impure thoughts) | cw: none
A bead of sweat trickled down Eddie’s neck, eventually settling in the dip of his collarbone.
Steve watched its journey and licked his lips, imagining diving into the shallow pool with his tongue and reckless abandon— salty yet sweet.
Eddie was rambling on about something that seemed very important to him as they drove around in the van, just having dropped the last of the kids off for the evening. The air conditioner was busted, and Eddie was talking about dragons again. So Steve was left to his own devices in watching the effect of the heat on his friend’s perfectly bitable neck.
It didn’t help that Eddie was wearing a tank top, or that his hair was pulled up into a bun.
“Stevie,” Eddie waved a hand in front of his face, snapping Steve back to the present. “You get heat stroke on me?”
“Something like that,” Steve mumbled. He wished he could blame the heat for way he'd been daydreaming about sucking the taste of Eddie's skin into his mouth, but that particular thought never seemed to leave Steve's mind these days.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked, always too attuned to whatever Steve was thinking (or sulking) about.
“Nothing,” Steve tried. Eddie leveled him with a look that would have melted stone. “You’re hot, is all.”
“Well I know that, Steve,” Eddie huffed. “It’s eleventy one degrees out and the A/C is broken.”
“What—?” Steve began to ask, but he didn’t actually think he wanted to divert the conversation that far. “Not literally, Eddie. I mean you’re attractive, and it’s driving me crazy.”
Eddie’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion, and Steve wondered how on earth he could be more clear. Until out of nowhere Eddie steered off the main road and into a small copse of trees just off the shoulder.
“What the hell, dude—”
“Don’t dude me,” Eddie chastised as he scrambled out of his seat and into Steve’s lap. Steve hurried to settle his hands on Eddie’s hips without much thought, and Eddie looked down at him with a wolfish grin. “You just told me I’m driving you crazy. I think that deserves a baby, or a sweetheart, or even a honey bunch.”
Steve was stunned at this turn of events, but bantering with Eddie was always the easy part.
“I’ve always kinda liked schnookums, if we’re being honest,” Steve said with a lazy shrug.
“Of course you would,” Eddie rolled his eyes with such affection it made Steve’s heart clench. “Can I kiss you now, schnookums?”
“Thought you’d never ask, baby.”
Eddie kissed the wry smile right off of his mouth.
He tasted even sweeter than Steve imagined.
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whatever I don’t even like your big slutty eyes and swagless aura
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“What the hell is this?!”
The words startle Steve awake more effectively than his alarm ever managed and he flails a bit, almost falling off the couch until he recognises Dustin looming over him, hands on hips looking extremely unimpressed.
(Later Steve will have time to be fondly amused that the gesture came from him.)
“Henderson?” he asks, blinking up at the kid with bleary eyes. “Jesus, what time is it?”
“6:30,” Dustin informs him.
“In the morning?” he croaks.
“Yes, in the morning!” Dustin snaps. “What the hell is this Steve?”
Steve is still mostly asleep, he knows he looks like a mess and he also knows that he and Dustin did not have any sort of plans that would give him reason to be waking Steve up at six-fucking-thirty in the morning. So he says, “Sleep, Henderson. It’s sleep.”
Dustin does not look amused by this. “Do you always fall asleep on the couch with Eddie?”
Steve blinks up at Dustin, confused. “What? Eddie?”
Dustin gestures behind Steve and Steve, against his better judgement, turns his head to find that Eddie is in fact on the couch behind him. Turning put him face-to-face with the other man and Steve just sort of blinks in befuddlement before wondering aloud, “Jesus Christ how is he still asleep?” Because he genuinely has no idea how anyone could be sleeping through Dustin’s sheer volume.
“That’s all you have to say?” Dustin demands.
“It’s early,” Steve complains.
“You’re sleeping with Eddie!”
“Well i was,” Steve groaned, “right up until you started shouting. Why are you even here?”
“Sleeping. With. Eddie,” Dustin repeats in case it was lost on Steve the first time.
“It’s six thirty in the morning!” Steve points out. Again. What else was he supposed to be doing at that time of day?
“Sleeping with Eddie!” Dustin repeats like a bad record, needle skipping back and forth.
Steve is too tired for this. “Make sense or go away and come back in two hours.”
“Steve,” and Dustin sounds very serious now, “are you having sex with Eddie?”
“…no?” He squints at Dustin, a little concerned about the kid’s knowledge of sex if he’s asking that when Steve is lying fully clothed and half asleep next to an equally fully clothed and still asleep Eddie.
Dustin does not find this funny. “Then what the hell is this? Why are you cuddling on the couch?”
Relieved, Steve says, “Oh, you didn’t mean that literally.” Then he shrugs. “We must have fallen asleep down here.”
“You fell asleep cuddling on the couch?” Dustin’s voice is very dry.
“…i guess?” Steve doesn’t actually know how the cuddling came about - would he call it cuddling? - but he gets the feeling he should be more worried about what Dustin is insinuating than he is. Mostly because, “Seriously, why the hell are you here so early?”
“Apparently, to catch you and Eddie snuggling on the couch,” Dustin snipes. “Is this going to be a thing?”
Steve looks long and hard at Eddie, doesn’t let himself sink too deeply into the thoughts or the fears, just looks at him and then he says to Dustin, “Yeah, probably.”
Dustin’s outrage is not faked this time and it is loud enough to finally wake Eddie.
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One of my favorite moments from "You're divine" by @azrielgreen !
I changed the dialogue (just a little bit, hehe) because it all didn't fit on one page 👉👈
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Character Development (Steddie)
“If I were you… I would get her back.”
Steve snaps suddenly out of his trance—Eddie’s a pretty boy to look at. Dangerously so. In fact, half of this conversation has gone completely over his head, which is probably why he’s misinterpreted it completely.
“Hold on—pause,” he says, perplexed, “We’re not flirting?” They stop walking in unison, Eddie freezing out of shock, Steve anticipating it. Eddie looks at him, wide eyed, jaw going slack and then taught like he can’t decide which conveys his surprise better.
“I… what?”
“I was just making eyes at you,” Steve says, and then groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God damn it, I’ve really lost my touch.”
“No!” Eddie exclaims quickly, “Ah, no.” He’s flustered. Steve sees the flush in his face—he’s not trying to hide it. “No it’s… it’s working. I just didn’t think… you’re into guys?” Steve shrugs.
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
They stand there awkwardly for a moment, and then Eddie bumps his shoulder into Steve’s and they continue walking, easing out of the tension.
“So… how long?”
“How long what?”
“Have you known?” Eddie clarifies, and Steve notices their knuckles are brushing between them. He gazes up at Rob and Nancy, who are blissfully unaware.
“Well… someone came out to me recently so I started looking into it, called my uncle—man, that was an awkward conversation.”
“Your uncle?”
“Oh—he’s gay—has a partner and stuff. They live in California and we visited sometimes when my parents still took me places, you know.” Eddie blinks at him, nodding his head a little bit, but doesn’t look like he’s fully comprehending anything Steve’s saying at all. Steve takes a turn bumping Eddie’s shoulder, thinking maybe it’ll jolt awake some of those gears in his brain.
Their pinkies hook.
“So… what was the conclusion?” Eddie asks, like he doesn’t already know.
“I’ve had nasty thoughts about Harrison Ford way too many times to be straight,” Steve admits cheekily, “He said I’m bi, I guess. It means—“
“I know what it means, Steve.” Steve grins at him, a little sheepish, and Eddie smiles back, something soft and personal. It’s an expression Steve hasn’t seen him make yet, even with all his damn theatrics. To be fair, Steve’s growing quite fond of those theatrics, premature as it might be.
“So, go on,” Steve teases, “What were you saying about me getting back with my ex?
“Hmm, I don’t recall saying anything like that,” Eddie responds.
“Oh really?”
“Really. In fact, that’s a terrible idea. Bad for character development.” Steve laughs then—fully laughs—a sound that must be revolutionary for the Upside Down. No one has ever laughed here, no way.
“Character development?”
“Indeed.”
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Biggest Cheerleader
Eddie Munson, award winning metal guitarist is always seen at NBA games and always for that one team. He's at every game, always in the front row and in the middle of the basketball wives. People think he bought his way in, got chummy with the ladies.
He's always getting excited, screaming with the rest when they score and ragging on the other team when they don't.
His fans have picked up that his favourite player is the point guard star Steve Harrington, home grown player who had it rough after his parents didn't support his dream or his team.
He screams the hardest when Harrington makes a shot.
What they don't know is that Eddie Munson is friends with all the WAGs because he is one himself. That his lover is Chicago Otters' sunniest player, the one he ran off from Hawkins with, the one he lived in a dingy apartment with Robin in the bad side of town.
The one he goes home with after every game and rides into the night as a reward.
They don't know that until Steve comes out in 2009 in his memoir and the spread has him and Eddie in their eclectic sunlit home.
Now all those videos of Eddie Munson punching rival player William Hargrove in the nose for almost breaking Harrington's ankle, make sense.
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just realised i never posted any of the stuff i did for the alternative steddie dads au
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