lexirosewrites:

Fresh-out-of-beauty-school omega Steve gets hired at the last minute to replace alpha rockstar Eddie Munson’s usual hairdresser for his tour.

Steve is practically shaking with nerves, too afraid to do more than carefully detangle the man’s hair with only his fingers. The silence in the dressing room is heavy, filling the space between him and the alpha with awkward tension.

Eddie of course finds the whole thing hilarious. He may be a celebrity, but this new guy is acting like he’s gonna get screamed at if he so much as looks at an actual hair tool.

But since the omega’s ridiculously cute and sweet, he throws him a bone.

“This your first time or something?” Eddie laughs.

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flowercrowngods:

Steve always gets that look about him when he looks up at the stars. Doesn’t matter if they’re walking in the dark and he looks up instead of where he’s going, trusting that Eddie will watch where they’re going, or if he’s sitting down, his back against a wall or a pole or the backrest of a chair, one knee pulled to his chest, his eyes cast upwards.

There’s something about stargazing Steve that just takes Eddie’s breath away and replaces it with words that get stuck in his throat. Words like, You’re so beautiful. Like, What do you see? What do you think? What’s happening inside that brilliant, brilliant head of yours?

It always makes him feel like Steve is in on some secret of the universe that no one but him will ever be privy to, and it leaves him with a racing heart and a tingling sensation in his hands where he thinks about reaching for Steve’s and finding out about all those words he never says.

Especially at night.

Eddie fell in love with Steve at night. Over the course of many walks in the dark, strolls around Hawkins because they both just needed to move, get away for a while, chase the sensation of running away together. Eddie fell in love with the line of Steve’s jaw and the smile on his lips, the reflection of the moon in those dark eyes as Steve looked up and looked so calm. So serene. Almost at home, with the stars in his eyes.


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(via scoops-stevie)

54prowl:

⚠️ this blog does not support works created by AI software ⚠️

(via strangersteddierthings)

thejollywriter:

amorphousturtle:

delicious-dream-before-the-storm:

The band, the music, the dance.

puts on sound 📣🎶🎵

Ok, I NEED you to understand just how insane even ATTEMPTING this was for them.

1. Playing an instrument is difficult. Doing so in sync with others even more so. Don’t think I’m stepping on any toes saying that.

2. Dancing is difficult. Doing so in sync with others even more so. Still not controversial.

3. YOU AVOID, AT ALL COSTS, MOVING YOUR BODY WHILE PLAYING A WIND INSTRUMENT.  To make the correct, pleasant sounds, you need to be in the correct form. And that form involves your ENTIRE body, even your legs when sitting down.

4. “oh, but I’ve seen marching bands before and-” MARCHING BANDS HAVE ENTIRE SCIENTIFIC FIELDS DEDICATED TO FIGURING OUT HOW TO MARCH WITH MINIMUM BREAKING OF PROPER FORM. A marching band tries to be as smooth as possible while moving, so as not to jar their instrument, mouth, neck, arms, torso, or anything else.These ladies and gentlemen are BOUNCING and still playing properly, what the FU-!

5. AND ANOTHER THING! Wind instruments and dancing BOTH make demands on your breathing, so the fact that they are dancing (making you breath faster for extra oxygen) AND playing wind instruments (making you effectively hold your breath) AT THE SAME TIME is HUGE. Their lungs must be MASSIVE.

All of that also; the song is Sing, sing, sing (with a swing). If you wanna listen to some of THE SPICIEST big band ever recorded. Its a big hard song and this band does it expertly.

(via scoops-stevie)

neuroticboyfriend:

it’s never too late to start brushing your teeth again. i basically never brushed my teeth for a whole 10 years. a decade. A DECADE. i still struggle to brush my teeth once a week, but it all started with brushing my teeth once every few months. so i mean it when i say brushing your teeth once a week, a month, a year, or even a decade, is better than nothing.

and still, nothing is not shameful. it is not immoral to struggle with self care. and it is also not pointless to keep trying. anything you can do, even if its wiping plaque off with a towel, is enough. it is good to take care of yourself however you can, even if it’s just trying to muster the will to. reading this post is good, too.

i believe in you and i am proud of you, even in the smallest of steps. it’s okay. you can give yourself grace.

(via scoops-stevie)

unclewaynemunson:

Okay i know we all love the trope of Steve being scared he’s being Too Much™ in a relationship, but what about Eddie? Eddie, whose parents dropped him off at his uncle because he was nothing but a liability to them, and who has only ever known intimacy through random hookups in club bathrooms or dark alleys. Who doesn’t have a clue where to store all the love he feels for Steve. Any form of gentleness, of romanticism, scares the shit out of him because it makes him so vulnerable and even though every fiber of his body wants nothing more than to hold Steve’s hand or call him every night to talk about nothing or make him breakfast in the morning he is terrified, because what if Steve will laugh at him, get up and leave him? The mere thought of it makes him want to run.

And then there’s Steve, who has actually been very comfortable with casual intimacy and showing his feelings, and who has been waiting for so long to have an actual relationship again and can’t wait to do all the cheesy shit. Who surprises Eddie while he’s at work at Thatcher Tire in full S2 Lovestruck-Steve mode, sneaking up to him from behind to scoop him up and twirl him around because he hasn’t seen his boyfriend for almost two whole hours so obviously he misses him like crazy.

And Eddie just – starts crying, right there, full-on sobbing, with grease on his hands that he smears all over his cheeks because he has no thoughts at all left in his mind except for How can this possibly be real???

And Steve holds him more gently than anybody has ever done before, while he whispers sweet-nothings in his ear and patiently waits for him to come back to himself, looking worried out of his mind but very much not going anywhere.

They talk, and Steve gets to understand why Eddie got so overwhelmed, and Eddie gets to understand that Steve actually wants them to do all the cheesy shit together and that it’ll be impossible for Eddie to be Too Much for him, no matter how Much he ever gets.

simplebtromance:

The scent of cigarette smoke is starting to smell like home. Does smell like home and safety, it instantly makes Steve relax and feel like everything is going to be alright.


Steve was confused for the longest time as to why, neither of his parents smoked and he quit after Robin came into hid life. Robin,of course, doesn’t smoke nor does her family.


Hopper smokes, but it’s not right, the scent is off just a bit. The menthol makes it burn his nose a bit. Same with Joyne and her Marlboro Reds, it’s off.


It wasn’t until Steve went over to Eddie’s to hang out that he realize.


He was curled into Eddie’s side as they watched some zombie movie Eddie tells him he needs to watch for his education on classic films. Wayne is in his recliner, feet up and a glass bottle of coke in his hand. The older man pulls out his pack of cigarettes and lights one up, tossing Eddie a pack when his nephew pouts at him for one.


As soon as the older boy lights it, Steve has his answer. It’s not just the cigarette smoke. It’s the combined scent of the Winston cigarettes the Munsons smoked, the mechanic grease that clings to both of the Munsons, Wayne’s Old Spice, and Eddie’s leather and cinnamon.


Eddie and his home smelled like home. Like safety. Eddie is what got him to relax and calm down from hyper vigilance. Eddie was his home.


Steve felt tears in his eyes as he looked up at his boyfriend, his smile probably off if Eddie’s face was something to go by. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, cupping his cheek and using his thumb to brush away the tear that escaped.


“You smell like home…” Steve murmured, pressing their foreheads together and taking a deep breath. “You and Wayne and this house, smells like home and safety…I love you.” He murmured, hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder and breathing him in again.


Eddie blinks in surprise before melting into a dopey dimpled grin, holding Steve close and kissing the top of his head. “Love you too, baby doll…you smell like home too.”

(via steddieas-shegoes)

dwobbitfromtheshire:

No, because Steve and Chrissy becoming best friends while pining after Eddie would be so funny, especially if they think that they both can’t have him. They’re also pining after each other. So, they’re hanging out when they, uh, get a little drunk. Eddie was a little late to Steve’s and walked into the kitchen to find them sitting at the island with their backs to him. They were leaning against each other and swaying on their stools.

“Oh, Eddie, I love you so …,” Chrissy sung.

“Eddie, please, write just one line,” Steve also sang.

For drunk people, they sang pretty well together, Eddie mused as he folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. He watched them sing with a fond smile on his face.

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friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog:

Reblog if reading someone else’s fanfiction has helped you get through a hard day

(via strangersteddierthings)