#Steve Coats

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Meet Joe Black 1998 It also has Death Take a Holiday 1934

#Meet Joe Black #Brad Pitt #Anthony Hopkins #Claire Forlani #Jake Weber #Marcia Gay Harden #Jeffrey Tambor #David S. Howard #Lois Kelly-Miller #Jahnni St. John #Richard Clarke #Marylouise Burke #Diane Kagan #June Squibb #Gene Canfield #Suzanne Hevner #Steve Coats #Madeline Balmaceda #Julie Lund #Kay Gaffney #Anthony Kane #Joe H. Lamb #Robert C. Lee #Jim Taylor McNickle #Hardy Phippen Jr. #Stephen Adly Guirgis #Leo Marks #Michelle Youell #Gene Leverone #Death Take a Holiday

[sakti3940]

Graham Moore Talks to Certified Master, Steve Coats About Values

#youtube #leadership values #Steve Coats #graham moore #Certified Master Steve Coats #values of the leader #general management training #values based leadership #leadership ethics and values #leadership qualities and styles

[harmonictechnicality]

thinking about Steve digging into a KFC bucket around Eddie, who is about to snap in half at the sight of it. Just seeing Steve Harrington sink his teeth into a chicken thigh, sucking on a drumstick bone, swallowing the most ungodly-sized bites he’s ever seen. His eyes are fucking locked on Steve’s lips that are extra shiny from all the grease. Eddie can’t even touch his own damn food because his stomach is in knots from this weirdly erotic and carnivorous circus act.

Steve smears the grease off with the back of his hand, staring hard at Eddie. “What?”

“Huh?”

Dumb. Idiotic. Why is Eddie suddenly experiencing the same level of flusteredness as the varsity cheer squad around this guy? It’s just Steve. Steve eating meat…

Thick, juicy, noisy meat in Steve’s mouth. His mouth that looks so-

“Dude, try some.” Steve waves a half-eaten chicken wing in front of Eddie’s face. He’s smiling as he chews, looks honest to god tipsy from how much he’s enjoying this meal.

Eddie shrugs, pops his knuckles to keep his hands busy. “Not hungry.”

Which is a big, fat lie. He is hungry. Thoroughly starving to see Steve in angles that are banned from biblical literature.

“Christ on toast, Harrington, close your mouth. I can see your fucking tonsils from here.” And yeah, that’s a problem too. Eddie could draw the inside of Steve’s mouth from memory by now. Could make himself a handy little diagram on how stuffed it could be if he just-

“Can’t help it.” Steve interrupts. He tears another piece of meat off and chomps as he speaks. Says something that actually breaks the last bit of dignity in Eddie’s soul. “It’s finger lickin’ good.”

Right, yup. Okay. Eddie is all impulses after that. His gaze drops to Steve’s slick hands. His ears only able to process words at a caveman baseline:

‘Finger. Lick. Good.’

Yeah. That does sound pretty good to him. Really good, actually.

So Eddie reaches across the table and takes Steve by the wrist. He opens his mouth, swirls Steve’s index finger over his tongue, sucking on it for way too long. Makes a loud slurping sound as he returns Steve’s hand back to him. He’s pretty sure Steve gasped at the contact, but couldn’t exactly focus on anything other than the taste of salt and grease and skin.

As Eddie sits back down in his chair, he examines Steve’s face. Red everywhere. Up his ears, down his neck. He isn’t moving either - like Eddie’s little stunt just paused all the muscles in his body or something.

He should run. Avoid getting beat up by a guy who’s a former jock. Besides, Eddie Munson is somewhat famous on cowardly shit like running away. It wouldn’t exactly be unheard of for him.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Eddie dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Takes a deep breath in. Smiles sweetly over at Steve, sweet enough to feel playful. Edging on mean.

“Looks like it wasn’t false advertising after all.” Eddie tosses the used napkin at him. Isn’t trying to make Steve flinch, but it happens anyways. “Finger lickin’ good is an understatement.”

“Understatement?” Steve studies his finger, the one Eddie just used like a jolly rancher, then smiles wide:

“Should be mandatory with you, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #wait wait I can explain myself #no I can’t this just poured out of me #I couldn’t get the image of Eddie sucking on Steve’s KFC-coated finger out of my head #and now you all have to suffer with me #also sorry for any non-meat eaters reading this #y’all are better people than me (and Eddie in this fic) #gonna dunk my head in a bucket of holy water now byeeee

[navnae]

Steve tells everyone that he can find Eddie in a crowd full of people, they think it’s the sweetest thing thinking he means no matter where they are they will always be able to find each other. He really means that Eddie always ways dark colors so he can easily find him in crowd of people who wear pastels.

#steddie #no sugar coating it #that’s literally how he finds Eddie #Eddie wanders away all the time #steddie hc #steddie headcanon #headcanon #hc #steve x eddie #Eddie x Steve #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #idk what else to tag #help lol #please #come on #manifesting #power #so cuuuute #lmaooooooo #that is so funny #wow #hmmmmm #omfg #i know what you are #be for real #duffer brothers i swear #i’m tiiiiiired #im cryin

[starrystevie]

steve loves the warmer months. he loves the tail end of spring that bleeds into summer, the feeling of sun on his skin and sleeping with a window open. he's the person who puts all of his warm winter clothes away the second the weather starts turning and refuses to get them back out again even if it's chilly because he doesn't want to jinx the weather back into being cold.

their false spring came early with a day reaching up to 81 degrees in march that had steve sitting in a lounge chair in the backyard, his shirt sleeves rolled up and head tilted to the sun like a cat in a warm spot. he went back inside later that evening with his cheeks tinged baby pink and feeling warmed to the core only to shove his coats back into storage and get out his summer clothes.

but the warmth seeped away as soon as it came and they were back in a cold snap full of defrosting cars and sleeping with the windows fully shut.

steve's pouty, his arms halfway covered by an old baseball tee as he shivers against the brisk air outside of eddie's house to pick him up for their date. he rubs his hands over his arms trying to get some warmth back into them, bouncing on his toes slightly. the second eddie opens the door, steve pushes past him into the warmth with his arms wrapped around his center to keep whatever body heat he could in.

"cold?" eddie asks with a smug grin, nice and warm under his leather jacket as steve sends him back a playful sneer. see, eddie loves the cold weather, despises when he starts to sweat under all his layers and hides away in the shade to outrun the sun's heat.

"not cold, just a little chilly, that's all."

eddie rolls his eyes and grabs a sweatshirt off the counter like he knew to be prepared. it's folded and smells like him, woody and earthy, and when he hands it to steve, he gives him a little kiss to help warm him up before wrapping him into a hug.

"i swear, you come over here looking like a popsicle just so you can steal my clothes. i know your secrets, harrington."

steve leans back in eddie's grasp to pull the sweatshirt on quickly, smooths over his hair where he knows it must have puffed up, and brings his sweater-covered hands up to his mouth to blow hot air into the fabric to warm up his nose. he melts at the eddie smell that radiates off the sweatshirt and curls his hands around eddie's neck to drag him in for another kiss.

steve might hate the cold weather, but being wrapped up in everything eddie was an unexpected plus that makes the chill worth it.

#this is brought to you by me having to wear my winter coat and scrape ice off my windshield this morning! #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff

[weird-an]

Steve wakes up, because there is a noise downstairs. It's always silent at home. He sits up, hand blindly searching for the bat. The wound on his neck, yet to scar and still fresh, throb.

He walks downstair, the bat in front of him. Maybe it's a raccoon, his mind supplies, desperately looking for some normalcy in a world where the town he grew up in had just been literally torn apart. It's a wonder the house is still whole, only the pool having gotten torn apart by a large rift.

Another noise. It sounds... like music? There's light on in the living room. For a second Steve thinks his parents might be back from their annual trip to the Caribbean, pretending his father doesn't fuck his secretary and his mother doesn't get jewelry every time she gets wind of it.

He opens the door, not sure what to expect... but certainly not that.

Billy Hargrove takes a swig out of a bottle of one of the whiskies Steve's dad collects. It's at least fifty years old. Billy grimaces and shakes his head.

Apparently picky for someone who died a year ago. Just a few weeks ago, Steve had been at his grave. And now Billy Hargrove is in his living room. Wearing Steve's mother's favorite black fur coat and a pair of dirty boots. He's dancing.

One of his mother's records is on blast. Gimme Gimme Gimme by ABBA. Not the choice of music Steve would have expected from Billy. But then again, his parents don't listen to metal.. or whatever it is zombies are listening to.

Wait. Is Billy a zombie?

He looks alive. Face a little flushed and mullet dirty, but he's growling along to the song and takes another sip to the bottle.

He does a fucking spin - and freezes when he comes face to face with Steve. The coat slips open a little, revealing Billy's chest which is covered with thin scars. He's wearing one of the "sorry I fucked the secretary" necklaces. The one with the fucking diamonds.

"Harrington," Billy says. He rubs his eyes like he's the one that's hallucinating. "I thought I was dead."

"So did I," Steve admits. Billy Hargrove thinks he's a ghost and he breaks into his house... and gets wasted?

They stare at each other. Only Billy Hargrove can rock a coat like that, Steve thinks.

Billy grins. Steve feels caught. Billy holds out the bottle.

"Cheers to being alive?" Steve says when he takes it.

Billy laughs, aching his neck. The diamonds glitter.

"Cheers to that, pretty boy."

@spotteddogfan @elowmojo Your Billy in a coat melted my fucking brain and I can only come up with crack.

#billy in a fur coat (faux for my heart) #harringrove #billy x steve #steve is drooling rn #billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #steve x billy

[eldritch-thrumming]

you're a cowboy like me.

you're a cowboy like me, perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear like it could be love, i could be the way forward, only if they pay for it.

Steve is good at reading people. He always has been. He can spot an easy mark a mile away. He knows what to look for, knows that it’s always the older, lonely women, the ones who wear their pearls and their diamonds to lunch on a Tuesday afternoon, draped in black velvet and satin, ancient fur coats hanging off their shoulders, that will eat up his words and his casual touches like peppermint candies. 

Steve’s been working his way through Westchester and the Hamptons for three summers now, which generally means he knows practically everyone there is to know. Everyone worth knowing. So when a stranger in black leather and pressed trousers crashes a Friday night at the country club, everyone takes notice.

Steve’s in the formal dining room, surrounded by Marie—his date—and her girlfriends and their husbands, when Bill Weatherstone stands from his spot next to his wife to greet the stranger who’d just been led to their table by the club’s hostess. Conversation at the table comes to a stop so abruptly Steve would find it funny, if he wasn’t so suspicious of this new stranger. The newcomer has long, curly dark hair pinned out of his face in a ponytail at the back of his neck and big, innocent-looking eyes. When he smiles and clasps Bill’s hand in both of his in greeting, Steve makes note of the dimples on his cheeks. 

The stranger isn’t wearing a sports coat, which means he’s technically not supposed to be allowed to sit at their table, but Bill is the president of the club’s board and Steve knows he can generally do whatever the hell he wants. Money will do that.

“Ladies, gentlemen, this is the new associate at the firm,” Bill’s booming voice rings out, so loud that the chatter from the surrounding tables dies out a little as other diners turn to look at them. Steve notices that several other club members eye the stranger suspiciously as well. “Just started up with us last week. Eddie Munson, here’s the gang.” He makes a sweeping gesture around the table. “Gang, Eddie Munson.” He claps Munson on the shoulder before returning to his seat.

Munson turns his blinding smile on the rest of the table while he pulls out the empty chair next to Bill and drops down into it. He’s not graceful about it, but there is a certain charm in the rough-around-the-edges, wrong-side-of-the-tracks vibe he’s got going on. If you like that sort of thing. Steve doesn’t, but he knows that there’s several women sitting in this room who would eat Eddie Munson up like creme brûlée. Steve can't help but scowl down at his plate. 

~*~

After that first night, Steve starts seeing Munson everywhere. He’s at all the club events, in the club’s dining room every Friday night, and he’s somehow gotten himself invited to all the best parties. He’s always close to Bill or sometimes Jasper Jenkins, the club’s treasury director. 

Steve is still suspicious of Munson, but he hasn’t caused any problems with Steve’s particular favorites this season, so Steve just continues to give the outsider a wide berth and mind his own business. He’s done this long enough to see others come and go. Sometimes he can feel Munson’s eyes trail after him as he leads one of his ladies to a darkened corner or out onto the terrace for a closer look at the stars and some privacy. 

About three week’s after Munson first enters the country club, Steve is invited to a poker game in the club’s basement. He doesn’t usually get invited to these kinds of things; he tends to stay close to the women, accompanying them on their days out shopping and listening to them complain about their husbands or how their children never call at their private teas and lunches. Cozying up to the married men isn’t really his idea of a good time and it’s certainly not what he’s here for, but occasionally, he has to put in an appearance or two.

Steve’s shit at poker. He loses three hands before he has to tap out of the game altogether. The room is full of club members and younger women, the air smokey from cigars. The club’s pianist plays in the corner, but no one pays him any mind beyond stuffing a few bills into the glass he’s got sitting on the piano when they pass him by. The women are half naked and giggling, skin smooth and pink as they sit in the laps of old men. The poker room has several doors leading off of it and Steve shudders to think what’s happening behind each one. Steve may sleep with married women, but at least those women have class; they’re hurting and neglected, cast aside by their greedy husbands. They’re looking for companionship, closeness, more than sex; all the things Steve’s more than happy to give them if their husbands won’t. These men are just pigs. 

Steve’s been down here only a few times before. He vaguely remembers the way to the restroom and he tries to follow the winding, wood-paneled hallways using muscle memory. He pushes open a dark wooden door down in a quiet corner, a little further from the poker room than he remembers. The room is dark when he enters, a single table lamp lighting up the space. Steve’s mouth drops open, shock paralyzing him in the doorway. In the corner, Munson is pushed up against the wall, head thrown back with Bill Weatherstone’s lips attached to his neck. Munson’s hand is gripping at Bill’s thinning hair and his eyes meet Steve’s. A slow smile spreads across Munson’s face as he meets Steve’s gaze and he shoots Steve a wink before making a shooing motion with his free hand. Steve backs out of the room quietly, pulling the door closed behind him, his face burning red. His hand pulls at the knot in his tie, mouth suddenly dry as he makes his way back to the card game. Steve doesn’t even need to make his excuses to anyone back at the game, just grabs his jacket and flees the club.

Later that night, after he’s taken Marie out to the opera and delivered her safely home to her Manhattan townhouse, Steve lays in his bed and remembers the look on Munson’s face, the way he’d smiled at Steve with heavy lids, vision cloudy through the dark. 

Steve was good at reading people. He always had been, until he’d met Eddie Munson.

~*~

shoutout to @richhietozier for leaving some beautiful tags on one of my rotten brain au posts.

#steddie fanfic #steddie #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #steveddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie blurb #inspired by Taylor Swift cowboy like me lolololo #I worked in a country club in my early twenties and I always got in trouble for letting people sit in the formal dining room #without sports coats or wearing jeans #that was a horrible job lol the men were GROSS!!!!

[moralsareathingofthepast]

The fact that the line "Stevie called me Buck" is from an OFFICIALLY PUBLISHED marvel book and not a fanfic, blows my mind every day.

#winter soldier cold front #this book actually destroyed me #shattered my heart #honorable mention “-Steve wrapped them both in a coat and held him until his fever broke.” #like i was a mess i was sobbing for hours #stucky #marvel #avengers #bucky barnes #captain america #steve rogers #the winter soldier

[pikslasrce]

The thing about Brian and his makeup is, I—I don't remember him being that over the top to begin with. I guess he might've been dabbling with a bit of foundation at the time, but he certainly wasn't standing in the middle of Camden in a dress. I think that sort of came after, I think he started the band and he played with this sort of, you know, being a bit of androgynous and all that. But he was never really over the top. And I think after the first few records when people said he sounded a bit, you know, a bit girly, that I think it sort of started manifesting itself after that, and then by the time they were doing Brixton Academy, yeah he was a bit more feminine than PJ Harvey — God bless her.

Androgyny (watch the whole thing here)

#placebo #piksla.txt #i spent a whole hour captioning this so you guys better appreciate my efforts #posting this SPECIFICALLY for the pj harvey bit. but i wanted to include the whole bit for some context #also its sooo funny like #in this documentary alone we have testimonies such as well. this one. and then when steves former bandmate said that brian dressed like #a romantic poet with those like. flowy blouses and long coats. rent free.... #anyways i went back to this documentary bc i wanted to isolate that part where the gay mag guy way trash talking bowie and suede #but ig ill do that some other time

[theshippirate22]

no thoughts just max calling steve when the abusive asshole she started dating while her and Lucas are off hits her the first time and the next moment it’s Steve, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin sitting on the front pew of the chapel during his funeral after his body was recovered under mysterious circumstances.

#Nancy’s car has bleach stains in the trunk #Robin’s shoes are coated in mud #Eddie smells like gasoline #and Steve’s got some weird red stains on his hands and blisters from his bat #and max /knows/ #max mayfield #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #stranger things #fic idea #fruity four #the fruity four #fanfic #ficlet

[hexiewrites]

if i was brave (i'd climb up to you on the mountain)

Eddie Munson just wants to go for a walk with his daughter. That shouldn't be too much to ask. Unfortunately, Eddie Munson is a klutz. Luckily, park ranger Steve Harrington is nearby to help out.

teen, 4400 words. ft: dilf eddie munson, park ranger steve harrington, and just an absurd amount of awkward flirting.

read it now on ao3!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @maxineholtzmann!!!! this one's all for you.

#hex writes stuff #hex is writing #this is just all of maxies special interests in a trench coat actually #its mostly just awkward flirting #i really have nothing else to say for myself. #eddie is a dork #steve is a dingus #like what more is there #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

[avengerscompound]

Captain America (2018) #12

#marvel #avengers #mareveledit #comicedit #steverogersedit #captainamericaedit #steve rogers #captain america #bobbi morse #mockingbird #misty knight #maya lopez #echo #jessica drew #spider-woman #ava ayala #white tiger #captain america (2018) #616 #ta-nehisi coates #adam kubert #marvel comics #avengerscompoundedit

[rottingrard]

#taste of chaos #steves untitled rock show #gerard way #2005 #fur coat #yaoi

[merlin-wolfgang-trades-hale]

My personal problem with shopping for clothes is that I get things that remind me of my favorite character I resonate a lot with. Which means my closet reflects the repressed bisexual disaster that a lot of my favorite fuckers are.

#I have so many coats and jackets #and black #faux leather #and cargo pants #Steve. Dean. and Crowley are my fashion team… #which means that when needed I clean up GOOD! but on a regular day??? I’m just some dude #dude (neutral) btw

[starrystevie]

these nights are eddie’s favorite, steve with his head pillowed on eddie’s thigh as they sit on a blanket under the stars, just enough of a chill in the breeze to have an excuse to cuddle close. eddie’s strumming away on his acoustic guitar, something soothing and low so as not to disturb the night’s stillness. he’ll be picking at the strings with his deft fingers that are callused from years of practice and steve will close his eyes to listen closely, fingers trailing wherever he can reach. 

“mm, that’s nice, what is it?” steve will ask, sleepy and content, hand curling over eddie’s calf. 

“just something my mom used to play when i was younger,” eddie will whisper in the darkness. his fingers will fumble ever so slightly over the strings before finding themselves back in the right position. “it’s some old country song that she liked to put on when she was cooking supper.”

eddie will look down at steve, take in the way the moonlight bounces off the curves of his face, feel safe in the dark with him. “wayne taught me how to play it after she died.” he’ll say after a beat, a soft confession that weighs heavy in the air. 

steve will let his eyes flutter open and let his hand wrap around eddie just a tad bit tighter, show him he’s not going anywhere. “sing it for me?” he’ll ask. his lips will press into the denim underneath him before he settles back down.

and the thing is, eddie would do probably anything steve harrington asked him to do. so he sings to the sleepy boy underneath him and he sings to his mom who he’s hoping can hear him and he sings to the moon and stars as a thank you for giving him moments like this. 

#dont mind me i just listened to my classic country playlist this morning and got in my feels #i imagine he's playing coat of many colors btw #eddie munson is a southern boy and i will fight for that #steddie #steddie headcanon #steddie hc #eddie munson #steve harrington #my writing #steddie drabble #stranger things #stranger things headcanon

[biillyhargroves]

Steve “we seriously do not have room for another dog” Harrington vs. Billy “what are you talking about we’ve always had that dog” Hargrove. You’re welcome.

#billy sneaking puppies home in his coat #sneaking sad stray dogs in through the back door #letting all the dogs on the bed and leaving no room for steve #and steve just slowly accepting that this is his life now #because at least billy is happy #harringrove