steddieasitgoes

[steddieasitgoes]

STWG Daily Drabble - Doodle

Steddie | G | 814 words

Their phone was hooked to the wall near the end of their kitchen counter — a rather inconvenient place if you were trying to talk on the phone while someone else cooked — but the apartment was cheap enough no one really complained.

In fact, Robin joked it was in the perfect position. She could talk on the phone to Vickie, and keep Steve company as he cooked at the same time. He had no trouble hip-bumping her out of the way when she stretched the cord and wandered into the middle of their very tiny kitchen.

It only became a problem when Eddie ended up having tense emotional conversations there, right where everyone could hear him. When he tried to convince Wayne to give up the night shift and move away from Hawkins like he did — trying to keep him safe. Or when he talked to Jeff and the Corroded Coffin boys about school and how they were doing at college and they got all weird about them getting in and Eddie not even bothering to apply.

But that was neither here nor there. Steve and Robin were both really good at giving him space when he needed it, and he hoped he was just as good in return.

So he focused on the good things. He was doing that a lot lately. Steve had stolen a notepad and some nice pens from work, and they had it set up next to the phone so they could take notes. So they didn't have to go hunting through the house for them, Steve said. Because you always needed to write something down as soon as you weren't near any paper.

Naturally, there were hardly any proper notes on that pad of paper. Dates to coordinate calls with Dustin, times and amounts the pizza delivery gave them, notes on how to repair things Wayne gave them over the phone. But that was about it.

So when Eddie was on the phone, hunched over the counter, chatting with Wayne — he doodled. Drew skulls and guitars and goblins. Spiders and snakes and various dragon-like creatures. A wizard he tried to make like Gandalf.

And Steve, Eddie shortly noticed — started doodling too. He drew lines and patterns and slowly started colouring in the whole page with his pen. He drew sports equipment and car parts. A weird looking creature he thinks was supposed to be Dart?

It was cute, seeing all the little things Steve doodled while on the phone. But Eddie's favourites, he was finding out, was when Steve added onto Eddie's doodles. He gave Gandalf a basketball and tennis shoes. Doodled a guitar of his own in the goblin's hands and sunglasses on it's face. Gave his flaming skull a flower crown and a speech bubble that said 'I smell'.

So Eddie returned the favour. He took the baseball bat Steve doodled and drew nails sticking out of it — like the infamous baby he'd heard so much about. He tried to make the car Steve doodled look more like the Beemer — he's not so sure he succeeded, so he added a little label. He took a little pattern of stripes and spots Steve had doodled in the corner and turned it into a little knight wearing Steve's pattern on his tabard.

They didn't say anything to each other, but Eddie could hear Steve looking at the doodles he was adding and huffing a laugh out of his nose. It made his heart flutter, just a little, knowing Steve liked his silly little doodles. That this was a thing between them.

Robin, never covered or added to their doodles. She always started a new page, drawing smiley faces and flowers and little stick figure ladies with big boobies.

He tried hard not to read into it too much, despite the fact that he really wanted to read into it. Maybe this was just a Steve and Eddie thing. Maybe this was a sign. Or maybe he was just being silly.

The next time Eddie went to call Wayne, hunched over the kitchen counter, the notepad had been flipped over to a blank page. Right in the middle, in Steve's familiar scrawl — was a little doodle of Eddie. Mop of curly hair, tiny band shirt, ripped jeans and his guitar in one hand.

Lips curling up into a smile, almost involuntarily, Eddie felt his chest bloom with warmth. Turning, pen in hand, he looked to see Steve sitting on their living room couch. Shy smile of his own, but he wasn't looking away. He didn't say anything — not with Eddie waiting for Wayne to pick up — but he gave him a coy little look that said I hope you like it.

Eddie did, of course.

So he turned back to the paper — still waiting for Wayne to answer the phone — and started to doodle a little Steve holding doodle-Eddie's hand.

[steddieasitgoes]

Obsessed

It's Munson Movie Night and Eddie is determined to watch something from this decade so he hides Wayne's keys and drives them both to Family Video.

Robin looks up when the bell chimes, and when she spots them her boredom turns into a smile. She raises her hand in a greeting and turns her head in search for, most probably, her staple hip attachment.

"Dingus!" She yells towards the backroom. "Your boyfriend is here!"

Eddie is good at quick thinking, it's a skill honed by playing DnD weekly and Gareth being a power gaming asshole. But this leaves him completely blank. Yes, he's looked at men with a lustful gaze once or twice, but it's not like anyone knows.

He glances back to see if there's someone behind him, but even Wayne has already passed his confused form to approach the counter.

Steve emerges from the backroom and his face lights up.

"Wayne, hi!"

He rounds the counter to hug Eddie's uncle like they're old friends and all Eddie can do is stare, because--

What.

[steddieasitgoes]

hellooo!! :] gonna post this first since it was one of my first steddie drawings and i still love it sm. glad to see all the lovely people here!! <3

[steddieasitgoes]

The Eddie Munson School of Hard Knocks™️

[steddieasitgoes]

@lavenderstobins asked: Robin Buckley + Faceless - Gif Meme

[steddieasitgoes]

hey look! new steddie art!

[steddieasitgoes]

I’m having Steddie thoughts again I think it’s my brain preparing to go feral over next season

so it’s widely agreed upon that Steve was a good boyfriend in all the ‘hold the car door open for her and get her flowers and scary movies are good because it means cuddling and tell her she looks beautiful on every date’ kind of way so you’d assume it’s the same when he and Eddie start dating but consider: Eddie’s the one doing all this because he’s over dramatic and he knows he’s Steve’s first boyfriend and he also knows that Steve has been secretly wishing to be on the receiving end of all the good boyfriendisms

like every time he got a girl flowers he was always a little disappointed nobody got him flowers but now he has a special vase on the counter for all the flowers Eddie gets him and it’s always full. Eddie’s climbing over the hood of the car to open the door before he does, he picks movies just scary enough to pull the yawn and stretch move but not scary enough to trigger either of them

[steddieasitgoes]

Steve finally agrees to play DnD to appease Dustin's incessant begging, but mostly to spend more time with Eddie, who he's got a massive crush on.

Cue Steve rolling a Nat 20 when trying to persuade an inn keeper to let a band of fugitives stay the night for free.

He sees it for the opportunity it is and cranks up the full Steve Harrington charm, laying it on as thick as he can.

Eddie, face on fire but unable to tear his eyes away from Steve literally smoldering at him, spills pop all over his DM notes and has to cancel the rest of the session for reasons...

... to go home and fix his notes, of course. Definitely not to go make out in Steve's car.

[steddieasitgoes]

AU where Dustin fucks up.

He fucks up real bad but it’s not his fault, okay?

Everything just kinda spiraled. Got flipped turned upside down. And I’d like to-

“Do not quote the Fresh Prince to me, Dustin!”

Okay, so. It’s like this.

Dustin burnt out of college. Burnt through his roommates’ patience. Moved back home. Got really into TikTok. Got really into worrying because Steve got sick, got sicker, lost his hair, grew it back, let Dustin crash on his couch while all this was happening, and -

Well, it started as a joke.

“A little levity in the dark times,” Dustin explains. “Steve was like, really sick.”

And Robin was a mess so someone had to update the rest of the party on what was happening… the decision to film those updates like an early YouTuber day-in-life video from Steve’s perspective was, well… “Creative liberties.”

The decision to post those updates on the internet was not his best decision but, hey! Ad revenue is a thing and well, “Steve’s kinda internet famous…but he had an anonymous donor pay off his medical debt so…”

“It’s fine,” Dustin assures. “He’s not on social media and it’s not like he leaves his apartment much anymore.”

“That’s not all you did.”

“Okay, yeah. Fine, I accidentally-“

“You set him up with a streamer that’s stalking him!”

“I didn’t set them up!” Dustin defends. “I invited Eddie over to talk logistics about the D&D podcast we’re planning and Steve got off work early, and..”

Robin gives him a big unblinking look like he’s insane, “I’ve seen this guy’s streams. He’s obsessed with Steve. You set him up with a stalker that is probably going to live stream his kidnapping.”

“He’s not obsessed with Steve. He likes my filming style and,” Dustin paused. “You said you wanted Steve to get out of the house more. For him to start actually living his life again, right!”

She gives him that bug-eyed look again and Dustin leans back on his chair like, “…well, it’s too weird to say anything about it now.”

[steddieasitgoes]

Stranger Things Season 4 Chapter Six: The Dive

[steddieasitgoes]

Steve Harrington + Underrated Shots

[steddieasitgoes]

Robin's mom has a pet budgie that is Obsessed with Steve. Any time he comes over the bird is on his shoulder, making kissy noises at him, just constantly around him. It pitches a fit if anyone tries to get it away from Steve, and even starts asking for Steve if he hasn't come by in a day or two.

The bird also hates Eddie, and nothing Eddie does seems to change its mind. Not offering food or new toys, nothing works. It's even worse whenever Steve is around, because the budgie will snap at Eddie if he gets too close to Steve.

Steve thinks it's cute, Robin says it's hilarious that the bird sees Eddie as competition or something, but Eddie just wants to be around his boyfriend without the flying menace trying to smack him in the face with a wing.

[steddieasitgoes]

Eggs

written for @steddiebingo hop into spring mini event prompt: eggs | rating: g | wc: 1.8K tags: pre-relationship, humor, post-Season 2, Eddie POV

this is really dumb, but I’ve been in a terrible writing rutt because 2025 is being incredibly cruel to me and this idea made me laugh and I needed to write it so here we are

“This is bullshit!” Eddie swears, throwing his arms up and nearly knocking over the display of cheap gum and candy behind him at the register. 

“We have a strict policy,” the clerk says, tapping a worn Post-it note stuck to the small counter separating him from Eddie. 

Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You mean to tell me that big man Bradley himself has requested his minimum wage employees police the amount of eggs that paying customers can buy?”

“Yes,” the clerk says. “One dozen per person under the age of 21.” 

“It’s not alcohol, James. It’s eggs.”

“Eggs, you and your freak friends use to damage property.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going egging?” 

“That’s what they all say.”

Eddie wants to scream.

Sure, shitty kids in this town have been known to buy dozens of eggs just to hurl them at homes and people, but he’s not one of them. At least, not the one that’s doing the throwing; he has had his fair share of being on the receiving end, though, which is why he wouldn’t stoop to such low activities. 

Egging is beneath him. It’s not creative enough of a punishment for the assholes in this town — and yeah, okay, maybe it’s also because he can’t throw an egg to save his life much less hit the right target but that’s beside the point. 

Eddie fingers through his wallet, plucking out a handful of bills. He slams them down over the worn Post-it note and shoves them towards James. “Just take the money and give me my eggs.” 

He reaches over, yanking one of the cartons into his hands. He moves to grab the second, but James’s faster, swatting it out of Eddie’s grasp. It hits the edge of the counter on the way down, opening and sending a dozen of eggs to the ground. A few crack at Eddie’s feet, covering his boots in fresh yolks, while a handful roll down towards the exit.

“Damn it,” James swears, flicking raw egg from his own hands. “That’s the dozen you’re payin’ for.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eddie growls. The entire store is looking at him now, including a bruised and battered Steve Harrington, who's clearly seen better days. At least someone is having a worse day than he is. “I’m not paying for those! I’m paying for three cartons of uncracked eggs.” 

“You’re not paying for a damn thing,” James says, yanking the phone free from it’s base beside the register. “I’m calling the police.” 

Eddie can’t help himself; he laughs this time. “For eggs?” 

“No, for assaulting an employee.” 

“I didn’t even touch you! You touched me!” 

“We’ll see about that,” James says, dialing the number to the Hawkins Police Department. 

Eddie does scream this time, letting out a primal groan of frustration. “You’re a piece of shit James. I hope you get a raise for being the patron saint of fucking eggs!” He snatches the money from the counter, shoving it into the pockets of his jacket before stalking out of the store with both middle fingers raised. 

Fucking James. Eddie knew he should have waited in Mable's long line. She may take twice as long, but at least she would have let Eddie make his totally reasonable purchase. Hell, she probably would have offered him a quiche or egg salad recipe because that’s the kind of person Mable is. She’s considerate -- something James is not. 

But no. He just had to pick stupid James’s line because it was the shortest. He should have known better. It’s always the same with his type — lame ass jocks who peaked in high school and are now stuck in their hometown making life miserable for everyone else. 

Eddie’s too fired up to get behind the wheel right now, so he pulls out a cigarette instead. The nicotine does little to curb the frustration coursing through him, but at least it gives him something to do besides marching back into the store and starting something with James, he knows he’ll lose. 

After taking a long drag, he glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s five to eight; far too late to get in the car and drive the twenty miles to the next down over and pick up three dozen eggs. Gertrude is going to be mad. And then Wayne is going to be pissed when she and her gang retailiate against their trash. 

Fucking James. 

Eddie finishes his cigarette, snubbing out the end with the boot of his foot. He’s about to climb into his van when he’s accosted by none other than Steve Harrington. Great. Just what Eddie needs. Another lame, has-been jock giving him shit for simply existing. 

Steve’s eye is a deep shade of purple. There’s dried blood caked into the corner of his cracked lip, and there are remnants of some cheap band-aid adhesive around a gash above his eyebrow that probably needs stitches. And that’s just his face. He’s walking smaller, curled in like every step he takes closer to Eddie physically pains him. He probably shouldn’t be lugging around two paper bags full of groceries either, but what does Eddie know? He’s not a doctor. 

“You look like shit, Harrington.” 

“A plate to the side of the head will do that to you.” 

Eddie winces. He’s been hit in the head by a fair share of objects, but never a plate which leads him to wonder who Harrington pissed off. He doesn’t ask. Instead, he deflects. “Bet the other guy looks even worse.” 

Steve snorts, immediately grimacing. “Sure, let’s go with that.” 

Eddie fidgets, feet shuffling. This is the longest he’s ever been in Steve’s presence outside of mandated classes, and he doesn’t know what to say to him. Especially not when his face looks like that. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to because Steve moves, holding out one of the brown paper bags for Eddie to take. 

“Does the liege need an assistant to his chariot?” Eddie asks, staring at the heavy brown bag Steve’s struggling to keep hold of. “I’m sure one of the fair maidens inside would have assisted you.” 

Eddie waits for Steve to scoff and give him shit for speaking like some medieval idiot; but the judgment doesn’t come. At least, not in the form of harsh words. He does get a front row seat to Steve Harrington’s bitchy eye roll though so it’s not a total loss. 

“These are for you.” 

“For me?” Eddie asks, reluctantly taking the bag from Steve’s hand. He glances inside, almost afraid that something is going to pop out of him. Instead, he finds not one, not two, not even three, but four dozen eggs carefully stacked in the bag. “What the hell?” 

“I heard you arguing with James inside,” Steve says. “He’s a jerk. I mean, the guy is working a minimum wage cashier job and he’s still finding ways to be a total douchebag.” 

“So what? You just went to a different cashier and bought four dozen eggs?” 

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I went back to James with three dozen eggs, and he threw in the fourth for free so I could ‘teach whatever freak that rearranged my face a lesson’.” 

“Fuckin’ hypocrite.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

Eddie blinks, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once. Ten minutes ago he was nearly arrested for trying to buy eggs and now he’s standing out here holding four dozen bought and paid for by Steve “the hair” Harrington who took a plate to the head less than 48 hours ago if his bruises are anything to go by. 

What the hell is going on in this town? 

“I uh,” Eddie starts, then stops, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.” 

“It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, they’re just eggs, right?” 

“Just eggs to you and me maybe,” Eddie says.  “But these things are gold to Gertrude. You saved my ass from her wrath. 

“Gertrude?”

“My pet. She loves eggs.” 

“I didn’t know dogs could eat eggs.” Something washes over Steve in an instant — a look of panic if Eddie’s not mistaken. His eyes grow wide and then narrow into slits as they scan the permiter of the parking lot. His grip on the bag tightens as his entire body goes stiff. And then he’s leaning closer, lips practically touching Eddie’s ear as he drops his voice. “It is a dog, right? Like a furry, wagging tail dog with a full face kind of dog?” 

“Are there dogs without faces?” Eddie asks, suddenly very concerned for Steve’s well-being. If he didn’t get stitches for the gash over his eyebrow, there’s no way he got looked at for a concussion. Maybe he’s hallucinating right now. That would explain why he willingly bought four dozen eggs for Eddie of all people. “Are you concussed still, Harrington? Do you need a ride home or something?”

“I need to know who is eating all these eggs,” Steve says, deathly serious. He takes a step closer, backing Eddie up against the van. “It’s not a dog, is it?” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“Does it have a face?” 

“Man, what are you—“ 

“Does it have a face, Eddie?” Steve shouts, startling a few shoppers headed to and from their cars. 

Eddie’s never been more grateful for ease droppers than right now because Steve takes a few steps back, giving Eddie enough space to take a deep breath and try to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

“Eddie, I swear to—” 

“Gertrude is a raccoon!” Eddie says in a rush. “She’s a mother racoon who lives in Forest Hills and thinks she owns the damn place. She had babies this year, and I’ve been feeding them so they stay out of our trash. 

Apparently, Gertrude is a gossip and told other raccoons, and now we have a whole horde of them. If I don’t leave scrambled eggs out on the porch, they wreak havoc on the entire park.” 

“Oh.” Steve takes several steps back now, clearly satisfied by Eddie’s answer. “Are they cute?” 

Eddie’s not a hundred percent sure it’s possible to get whiplash from a conversation, but if it is, he’s experiencing a pretty severe case of it right now. “Are you sure you’re not concussed?” 

Steve waves him off. “Hop gave me the all clear last night. Told me to ice it with some peas, which is why I came here.” 

“Okay…” 

“So is she cute? This Gertrude raccoon?” 

“I mean, she’s a raccoon, so yes, obviously.”

“Right,” Steve nods, then glances at the bag in Eddie’s hand. “Four dozen eggs is a lot for one person to make. Do you want some help?” 

Jesus H. Christ, what is going on right now? 

“You, Steve Harrington, want to help me make scrambled eggs for a family of raccoons?” 

Steve shrugs. “Beats sitting at home alone with a bag of peas on my head.” 

“What the hell,” Eddie mutters to himself, before turning to Steve. “Alright, Harrington. You can come help, but no distractions. If we don’t have eggs out on the porch by 9:30, Gertrude will make us pay.” 

“Nothing’s scarier than a hungry woman,” Steve jokes. “Lead the way.” 

[steddieasitgoes]

enemies by day, sluts by night

for @steddiesportsau for prompt 'opponents to lovers'

rated e | 3,563 words | cw: hate sex, rough sex | tags: modern au, hockey au, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, feelings realization, idiots in love, love confessions, top steve, bottom eddie, spit as lube, anal sex, getting together

©️©️©️©️©️©️©️©️©️©️©️©️©️

He’s so sick of fighting for things. He fought for spots on travel teams his entire childhood, always being told he was “the kid who scraped in” by parents and coaches alike. Then, it was a fight to graduate when he missed too much school for hockey tournaments and his grades slipped. He fought to stay with his uncle when his dad got out of prison. He fought a kid on his own team who found out he was gay and started spreading rumors.

He’s fought to be here, on this professional team, playing a sport he loves more than anything.

And he’s been fighting to prove himself all season to get to wear the C.

The last captain signed an AHL contract a few months ago and the spot’s been up for grabs since. Eddie’s been working his ass off to prove he can handle the responsibility.

But so has Steve.

In any other world, he’d probably be friends with Steve. They’d hang out, they’d be great linemates, they’d probably be in each others’ weddings or something.

But in this world, Steve is his competition almost as much as the teams they face. He’s been wearing an A for one full season already, is the favorite to get the C, and is overall disgustingly perfect in every way.

Eddie wants him so desperately.

He doesn’t care how it happens, he just knows it would be the fuck of the century.

****

“If you can’t focus, you’re benched, Harrington!” The coach yells after another turnover by Steve.

It’s the third one in the first period, and only one of many other mistakes he’s made. His head isn’t in it tonight and that’s been clear since puck drop. Eddie’s trying to play the part of center and left wing and it’s not working.

“Dude, what the hell is wrong?” Eddie asks him as he catches his breath. He’s pretty sure he’ll be back out there on the next shift to try to get rid of the two goal deficit they’re already facing, so he takes a few sips from his water bottle.

“Just distracted,” Steve says, and it feels like he’s showing his belly a bit, admitting a weakness that Eddie shouldn’t get to hear about. “Not my night.”

“Clearly,” Eddie huffs. He’s not sure if Steve heard, but he doesn’t really care too much if he did. “Get it together, man.”

Coach pats his back and he jumps over the boards to get back in it. They’ve got a lot of work to do to catch up now, and most of the blame can be put on Steve.

****

They only lose by one in the end, but Steve’s so mad at the end of the game, he doesn’t even give a speech like he usually does after a game.

He stews in it as he throws his gear off.

No one says anything.

Eddie isn’t scared to, though.

“Any reason you’re acting like a toddler who didn’t get their way?” Eddie asks him, and it’s louder than he actually means it to be. He didn’t necessarily want everyone involved in the conversation.

Steve freezes and glares at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just that throwing around your gear is a bit rude, right? The equipment manager doesn’t get paid enough to deal with your little tantrum.”

The room is so quiet, Eddie almost looks around to make sure they aren’t alone.

Steve’s entire body basically curls in on itself.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” he says so quietly, Eddie’s not even sure he heard right.

Steve sits on the bench and unlaces his skates while everyone just looks between him and Eddie. Eddie’s not sure what to do right now. He didn’t expect this at all. He expected an argument or Steve storming out of the room. There was even a possibility that Steve would try to punch him.

But Steve’s sitting there silent, being extra careful with his gear now that he’s been called out. No one speaks.

Eddie sits and gets his own gear off just as quietly.

Everyone leaves one by one, but Steve stays.

When it’s just the two of them, he looks up.

“Sorry,” he says, and it seems like it pains him to do so. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

Steve runs his hand down his face, then through his hair, still sweaty and sticking to his skin. He sighs, so loud and long it seems like it could be a health risk.

“Everything I want is still so fuckin’ far away,” he says, sounds broken.

Eddie doesn’t want to have a heart to heart. He doesn’t want to do this whole comfort thing. They may be teammates, but there’s no way he can do this.

He gets up and steps closer to Steve, who looks up at him with tears in his eyes. It makes Eddie pause for a moment, and maybe he shouldn’t do this, but there’s something so beautiful about Steve like this.

He kisses Steve so hard he tastes blood.

Steve groans, sounds a bit like a feral animal as he pulls Eddie against him.

Hands are everywhere. Eddie doesn’t know who is pushing and who is pulling, or who is making that whimpering noise. Maybe they both are.

His dick is straining in his underwear, and he knows this isn’t the place to be doing this. It’s not really the time, either, but sometimes you do what you have to do.

“Wait,” Steve gasps as he forces space between them. His chest heaves as the sounds of their breathing echo in the empty locker room. “We can’t here. I’ve-”

“My place is only a couple miles away,” Eddie offers. “If you want.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just throws his clothes on and tidies up the gear he’d previously thrown around. The equipment manager comes in after everyone’s gone to take care of it all, makes sure what needs to be cleaned gets brought to the rink laundry, and what needs to be organized for their next game gets brought to the right place. Eddie follows his lead, throwing on clothes and grabbing his keys from his stall.

They don’t say anything else until Eddie’s apartment door is unlocked and Steve is shoving him against the wall.

“One time, right?”

Eddie nods.

They don’t even make it to his bed.

Steve sucks his dick right there in the entrance to his apartment, opening him up with spit and fingers that know exactly what to do to make Eddie’s knees weak. He fucks him until he does actually almost fall, and he’s hopeful his neighbors aren’t home to hear the way he almost screams as he comes.

There’s something in Steve’s eyes when he guides him to the couch, something that looks like he cares, like this might be more than just a casual fuck to get their frustrations out. Eddie doesn’t comment on it.

Steve kisses his forehead, thanks him, and leaves.

Eddie falls asleep on the couch, thinking too hard about the way he wants Steve to fuck him again.

****

The next time is after a win where they each got a goal. They’re riled up and Steve fucks him in the backseat of his car in the parking lot. It’s stupid and probably not safe at all, but making it anywhere else would take too long.

Steve doesn’t say much while he fucks into him, hard but slow, hands squeezing his hips as he thrusts into him from behind. He’s loud in other ways: whimpering when Eddie clenches around him, groaning when he finishes.

They catch their breath, but then Steve’s gone with a quick thanks and goodbye.

Eddie doesn’t think about how much his chest aches on his drive home. It’s just the adrenaline crash.

****

The fifth time is when everything goes sour.

They’re called to the office and are told neither of them will have the C this season.

“It doesn’t make sense for the team to have one at this point. We’ll evaluate over the summer and choose before the beginning of next season.”

It leaves them both in a mood.

A mood they try to shake off with a quick fuck in the bathroom.

Eddie’s not hard, though, his mind racing as Steve’s fingers brush against his prostate. It feels good of course, but it’s just…his mind isn’t focused on this.

Steve turns him around, goes to touch his dick and freezes. He pulls his fingers out and looks at Eddie with concern.

“What’s wrong? Was I hurting you?” He asks and he sounds so sincere, so genuinely worried. It makes Eddie’s heart race.

“No. Sorry. You can keep going,” Eddie hates how his own voice sounds.

Steve shakes his head. “No, we shouldn’t be doing this. We’re both too upset. I’m sorry, Eddie.”

It breaks the last thread holding him together. Rejection sucks no matter what, but knowing that they both needed this and now Steve doesn’t even want to use him.

“No, look,” Eddie sounds pitiful. “We both need this. It’s fine. I’ll get there.”

Steve backs up, straightens his hair that’s barely even messy. Eddie didn’t get his hands in it for more than a few seconds before he was shoved into a stall.

“We shouldn’t be doing this at all. Using each other,” Steve sighs. “It’s not good. We’re teammates. We can’t blur the lines.”

“The lines are already blurred!” Eddie panics. “It helps, right? Fucking me helps.”

Steve closes his eyes. “I can’t keep doing this to you or to me. It should’ve only been once. Maybe not even that.”

Why is his heart breaking? Steve was just a good fuck, they were only doing this because it was easy and a good release and-

“It was fun, but we can’t do this.”

And Eddie watches Steve walk out of the bathroom as if he isn’t taking a piece of Eddie with him.

****

They avoid each other as much as they can at practice, which is luckily pretty easy with the way they get split up for drills. Eddie has been their second line left wing for a few games to add some scoring depth so he doesn’t have to be on the ice with him during games either.

He pushes his feelings so far away, he actually manages to forget about them entirely for a bit.

Steve gets called up and Eddie moves back up to first line.

Everything’s fine.

****

Steve’s back in less than a week.

It’s not enough time for Eddie to feel better.

He doesn’t mean to, but he knows he’s being an asshole to him. It’s just that he’s hurt and he’s mad and he’s exhausted because he’s spent more time tossing and turning at night than sleeping.

Steve seems to brush it off when he snaps at him in the locker room. He ignores when Eddie rolls his eyes at him on the bench. He even makes a joke about how he shouldn’t have left for so long when Eddie shoves him out of his way in the tunnel.

But then Eddie makes a joke about being traded to a team where he doesn’t have to deal with a desperate guy trying to be captain and it hits its target.

Steve’s face falls, he bites his lip, and the room goes silent.

Surprisingly, Steve doesn’t say anything to him. He doesn’t say anything at all.

Eddie doesn’t react, but he’s a little surprised. He doesn’t get away with shit like this. He shouldn’t get away with shit like this.

The coach tells them all they played well, they’ll tighten up a few things in practice tomorrow. He says they’ve got one more win to clinch playoffs, and he feels confident they’ll get it Friday night.

Steve doesn’t do or say anything.

Eddie doesn’t either.

Everyone files out slowly, tension in the air too thick to breathe. He doesn’t blame them all for going. He wouldn’t even be surprised if they go straight to the coach and tell him to intervene.

Steve gets up and starts to leave the room.

Eddie cannot let him do that.

“Steve, wait.”

Steve pauses, but doesn’t turn around.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be acting this way. You can’t control feelings and it’s my own fault for thinking we had anything more than just a convenient and easy situation. Shouldn’t be letting it affect our time on the ice,” Eddie continues.

Steve finally turns.

“You’re right,” he says. It stings a little, but he deserves it. “That’s why I asked for a trade.”

Eddie’s heart sinks. “What?”

Steve laughs, unamused. “What? You’re shocked I don’t wanna keep hurting myself with you?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie feels like he’s going to be sick.

“I can’t love you like this. I’m leaving because space is all that’s gonna get me through it. They already might have somewhere for me,” Steve explains.

Eddie doesn’t understand what’s happening. He thought Steve hated him, or at least only tolerated him because he was his teammate. He figured the fucking was out of desperation, that’s why he never wanted to properly look at him.

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet. Meeting with them tomorrow.”

Eddie can’t lose Steve. He would give up the C this very second if it meant Steve would stay.

“You can’t go. Please don’t go.”

Steve swallows.

They’re so close now. Eddie doesn’t even know when they got so close. He doesn’t remember stepping closer, doesn’t think Steve did either given the words he’s been saying.

“I have to go, Eddie.”

“You’re gonna be the captain here. Everyone loves you,” Eddie knows he’s begging, sounding more ridiculous by the second. “If you go, you’ll have to start over. I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think you could,” Steve sounds so sure. “Things were better before we kissed.”

He didn’t think his heart could break more.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Before we kissed, I knew I could ignore the feelings I had for you. Now, I have to live with knowing I’ll never get over you,” Steve says. “You deserve to wear a C and now you can. You’ll forget all about me soon.”

Eddie kisses him. He doesn’t have words to say what he wants to, and he doesn’t think he’s brave enough anyways.

Steve kisses him back, his hands grabbing his hips, leaving bruises if he’s lucky. Eddie wants him right here, right now, wants to love him in the only way he knows how.

“Come back to me,” Eddie says against his lips. He means come back to mine, but he hopes the mix up isn’t heard. “Please.”

“One more time?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods. If he only gets one more time, it’s going to be in his bed while he’s looking at Steve’s face.

****

Steve’s been sucking his dick lazily for what feels like forever, using the spit and precum dripping down Eddie’s length to open him up. It’s so messy, and loud. God, he’s so loud when he moans and slurps up as much of the mess he can.

“Need you inside me, Steve, please,” Eddie begs, bucking his hips up for more. “Fuck me.”

But Steve doesn’t stop what he’s doing and Eddie’s fingers dig into his scalp as he whines through an orgasm that doesn’t quite come out of nowhere, but shocks him just the same. Steve groans as he swallows every drop, sucking changes to licking, the quick pace slows to something that makes Eddie shiver. The temperature of the room gets warmer and suddenly Steve looks up at him and grins.

“Still need me inside you?” His voice is rough.

“Always,” Eddie can’t quite catch his breath, but he spreads his legs further apart, and waits for Steve to get up, get closer. He needs him to fill every space before he’s gone. “Always need you.”

He wishes he could keep his mouth shut. He doesn’t wanna ruin this or make this more than what it is. He wants to enjoy what they’ve got in this moment.

Steve’s lips crash against his as he lines himself up and pushes into Eddie. He’s not as stretched as he thought, but he welcomes the sting. Any ache is a good ache if Steve’s the one causing it.

His dick twitches, tries to get hard faster than physically possible. It aches, too.

Everything about being fucked by Steve aches.

But there’s a tension there too, some string trying so hard to snap between them, and he isn’t sure if he’s gonna make it if it does. He hopes it holds, hopes that coming together like this mends it long enough for Eddie to find a way to keep him.

Steve’s found a slow rhythm, lips gently trailing kisses against his jaw and neck as he pumps in and out. It’s the first time there’s no rush between them. Eddie wants to live here.

“God, you feel so good,” Steve groans against his neck, sucking a bruise that Eddie wants to tattoo on his body. “Like you’re built just for me.”

“I was, I was,” Eddie gasps as Steve hits the right spot again and again, slow and steady. He’s never been fucked like this, like the finish line doesn’t matter. “Made for you, I swear.”

“Yeah, baby, you were,” Steve kisses the corner of his mouth as his hand drifts between them, grips Eddie’s hard cock. “Maybe you can fuck me after this. Think you can?”

Eddie nods but he doesn’t actually know. Coming a third time that quickly might be an impossible task, even for someone as desperate and horny as he is.

“I bet you can. You always like giving me what I want, huh?” Steve’s breath catches and his hips pause before he starts up again, faster, chasing his own release. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Eddie wants it more than he wants his own release. He wants to feel Steve shaking apart above him, filling him up with warmth. He needs it.

He leans up and captures Steve in a kiss that breaks him apart and puts him back together, so world-ending that it almost feels like he’s entered a new galaxy. He doesn’t even know he’s coming until he feels Steve gasp against his mouth, and his stomach feels warm and wet.

Steve moans into his mouth, feeds his pleasure to Eddie as he comes inside him.

He doesn’t wanna come down from this high. He feels so good, and Steve feels so good inside him and against him, and he wants to live here in this moment forever. He has to tell him.

“I think I love you more than the idea of wearing a C,” he says. It sounds so fucking dumb after everything they just did, and everything they’ve been doing. “Please don’t go.”

Jesus, he sounds pitiful.

He is pitiful.

But Steve’s looking down at him in awe instead of pity, like he’s been waiting to hear him say that forever. He doesn’t know how they could go from barely speaking to whatever this is, whatever it may end up being, but he’s going to be a little braver than he has been.

“It might be too late,” he says, voice broken, but still hopeful. “I don’t know if they’ve already made a deal.”

“Tell them you can’t. Or I can retire and follow you,” Eddie hates that he sounds so desperate, but Steve’s smile is growing. “Or we both retire and give each other the D every night instead of caring about a C.”

Steve laughs so hard, his soft dick slips out of Eddie and his head falls to his shoulder. Eddie’s laughing, too, beaming with pride that he was able to get Steve to smile. Eddie wraps his arms around him, keeps him close.

“You make a pretty convincing argument,” Steve says when he stops laughing. He hasn’t moved from Eddie’s shoulder. “Not sure I’m ready to retire yet. Neither are you.”

“I could be.”

Steve lifts his head and smiles down at Eddie. “I don’t want you to be. We’ve only got a few years left anyway. We can make it work.”

“Make what work?” Eddie asks, shit-eating grin in place. He just wants to hear Steve say it.

“A relationship,” Steve rolls his eyes, but plays along. He’s a good sport. That’s why he’s probably gonna earn a C. “Or is teammates with benefits the furthest you’ll go?”

“I could be convinced to be your boyfriend,” Eddie nips at his bottom lip.

Steve raises a brow, nips Eddie’s lip in return.

“One condition,” he says, feels Steve’s cock hardening against his thigh. He wants him again, even if he doesn’t come, even if he can’t get hard again yet.

“Go on,” Steve nudges his jaw with his nose, licks a stripe down his neck. Eddie’s pulse races against his tongue.

“You promise to always fuck me a little bit like you hate me.”

Steve laughs again, shakes his head. “I can’t do that, Eddie.”

“Why not?” He pouts.

“Because I never hated you.”

Eddie pulls his face back up so he can kiss him, wet lips crushing together as desperately as they possibly can.

“Then always fuck me a little bit like you love me,” he whispers against his lips.

“I can definitely do that.”

[steddieasitgoes]

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They’re siblings and they deserve to reunite in season 5 please- 💀

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Eggs

written for @steddiebingo hop into spring mini event prompt: eggs | rating: g | wc: 1.8K tags: pre-relationship, humor, post-Season 2, Eddie POV

this is really dumb, but I’ve been in a terrible writing rutt because 2025 is being incredibly cruel to me and this idea made me laugh and I needed to write it so here we are

“This is bullshit!” Eddie swears, throwing his arms up and nearly knocking over the display of cheap gum and candy behind him at the register. 

“We have a strict policy,” the clerk says, tapping a worn Post-it note stuck to the small counter separating him from Eddie. 

Eddie scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You mean to tell me that big man Bradley himself has requested his minimum wage employees police the amount of eggs that paying customers can buy?”

“Yes,” the clerk says. “One dozen per person under the age of 21.” 

“It’s not alcohol, James. It’s eggs.”

“Eggs, you and your freak friends use to damage property.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not going egging?” 

“That’s what they all say.”

Eddie wants to scream.

Sure, shitty kids in this town have been known to buy dozens of eggs just to hurl them at homes and people, but he’s not one of them. At least, not the one that’s doing the throwing; he has had his fair share of being on the receiving end, though, which is why he wouldn’t stoop to such low activities. 

Egging is beneath him. It’s not creative enough of a punishment for the assholes in this town — and yeah, okay, maybe it’s also because he can’t throw an egg to save his life much less hit the right target but that’s beside the point. 

Eddie fingers through his wallet, plucking out a handful of bills. He slams them down over the worn Post-it note and shoves them towards James. “Just take the money and give me my eggs.” 

He reaches over, yanking one of the cartons into his hands. He moves to grab the second, but James’s faster, swatting it out of Eddie’s grasp. It hits the edge of the counter on the way down, opening and sending a dozen of eggs to the ground. A few crack at Eddie’s feet, covering his boots in fresh yolks, while a handful roll down towards the exit.

“Damn it,” James swears, flicking raw egg from his own hands. “That’s the dozen you’re payin’ for.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eddie growls. The entire store is looking at him now, including a bruised and battered Steve Harrington, who's clearly seen better days. At least someone is having a worse day than he is. “I’m not paying for those! I’m paying for three cartons of uncracked eggs.” 

“You’re not paying for a damn thing,” James says, yanking the phone free from it’s base beside the register. “I’m calling the police.” 

Eddie can’t help himself; he laughs this time. “For eggs?” 

“No, for assaulting an employee.” 

“I didn’t even touch you! You touched me!” 

“We’ll see about that,” James says, dialing the number to the Hawkins Police Department. 

Eddie does scream this time, letting out a primal groan of frustration. “You’re a piece of shit James. I hope you get a raise for being the patron saint of fucking eggs!” He snatches the money from the counter, shoving it into the pockets of his jacket before stalking out of the store with both middle fingers raised. 

Fucking James. Eddie knew he should have waited in Mable's long line. She may take twice as long, but at least she would have let Eddie make his totally reasonable purchase. Hell, she probably would have offered him a quiche or egg salad recipe because that’s the kind of person Mable is. She’s considerate -- something James is not. 

But no. He just had to pick stupid James’s line because it was the shortest. He should have known better. It’s always the same with his type — lame ass jocks who peaked in high school and are now stuck in their hometown making life miserable for everyone else. 

Eddie’s too fired up to get behind the wheel right now, so he pulls out a cigarette instead. The nicotine does little to curb the frustration coursing through him, but at least it gives him something to do besides marching back into the store and starting something with James, he knows he’ll lose. 

After taking a long drag, he glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s five to eight; far too late to get in the car and drive the twenty miles to the next down over and pick up three dozen eggs. Gertrude is going to be mad. And then Wayne is going to be pissed when she and her gang retailiate against their trash. 

Fucking James. 

Eddie finishes his cigarette, snubbing out the end with the boot of his foot. He’s about to climb into his van when he’s accosted by none other than Steve Harrington. Great. Just what Eddie needs. Another lame, has-been jock giving him shit for simply existing. 

Steve’s eye is a deep shade of purple. There’s dried blood caked into the corner of his cracked lip, and there are remnants of some cheap band-aid adhesive around a gash above his eyebrow that probably needs stitches. And that’s just his face. He’s walking smaller, curled in like every step he takes closer to Eddie physically pains him. He probably shouldn’t be lugging around two paper bags full of groceries either, but what does Eddie know? He’s not a doctor. 

“You look like shit, Harrington.” 

“A plate to the side of the head will do that to you.” 

Eddie winces. He’s been hit in the head by a fair share of objects, but never a plate which leads him to wonder who Harrington pissed off. He doesn’t ask. Instead, he deflects. “Bet the other guy looks even worse.” 

Steve snorts, immediately grimacing. “Sure, let’s go with that.” 

Eddie fidgets, feet shuffling. This is the longest he’s ever been in Steve’s presence outside of mandated classes, and he doesn’t know what to say to him. Especially not when his face looks like that. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to because Steve moves, holding out one of the brown paper bags for Eddie to take. 

“Does the liege need an assistant to his chariot?” Eddie asks, staring at the heavy brown bag Steve’s struggling to keep hold of. “I’m sure one of the fair maidens inside would have assisted you.” 

Eddie waits for Steve to scoff and give him shit for speaking like some medieval idiot; but the judgment doesn’t come. At least, not in the form of harsh words. He does get a front row seat to Steve Harrington’s bitchy eye roll though so it’s not a total loss. 

“These are for you.” 

“For me?” Eddie asks, reluctantly taking the bag from Steve’s hand. He glances inside, almost afraid that something is going to pop out of him. Instead, he finds not one, not two, not even three, but four dozen eggs carefully stacked in the bag. “What the hell?” 

“I heard you arguing with James inside,” Steve says. “He’s a jerk. I mean, the guy is working a minimum wage cashier job and he’s still finding ways to be a total douchebag.” 

“So what? You just went to a different cashier and bought four dozen eggs?” 

“No,” Steve says, shaking his head. “I went back to James with three dozen eggs, and he threw in the fourth for free so I could ‘teach whatever freak that rearranged my face a lesson’.” 

“Fuckin’ hypocrite.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

Eddie blinks, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once. Ten minutes ago he was nearly arrested for trying to buy eggs and now he’s standing out here holding four dozen bought and paid for by Steve “the hair” Harrington who took a plate to the head less than 48 hours ago if his bruises are anything to go by. 

What the hell is going on in this town? 

“I uh,” Eddie starts, then stops, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.” 

“It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, they’re just eggs, right?” 

“Just eggs to you and me maybe,” Eddie says.  “But these things are gold to Gertrude. You saved my ass from her wrath. 

“Gertrude?”

“My pet. She loves eggs.” 

“I didn’t know dogs could eat eggs.” Something washes over Steve in an instant — a look of panic if Eddie’s not mistaken. His eyes grow wide and then narrow into slits as they scan the permiter of the parking lot. His grip on the bag tightens as his entire body goes stiff. And then he’s leaning closer, lips practically touching Eddie’s ear as he drops his voice. “It is a dog, right? Like a furry, wagging tail dog with a full face kind of dog?” 

“Are there dogs without faces?” Eddie asks, suddenly very concerned for Steve’s well-being. If he didn’t get stitches for the gash over his eyebrow, there’s no way he got looked at for a concussion. Maybe he’s hallucinating right now. That would explain why he willingly bought four dozen eggs for Eddie of all people. “Are you concussed still, Harrington? Do you need a ride home or something?”

“I need to know who is eating all these eggs,” Steve says, deathly serious. He takes a step closer, backing Eddie up against the van. “It’s not a dog, is it?” 

Eddie shakes his head. 

“Does it have a face?” 

“Man, what are you—“ 

“Does it have a face, Eddie?” Steve shouts, startling a few shoppers headed to and from their cars. 

Eddie’s never been more grateful for ease droppers than right now because Steve takes a few steps back, giving Eddie enough space to take a deep breath and try to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

“Eddie, I swear to—” 

“Gertrude is a raccoon!” Eddie says in a rush. “She’s a mother racoon who lives in Forest Hills and thinks she owns the damn place. She had babies this year, and I’ve been feeding them so they stay out of our trash. 

Apparently, Gertrude is a gossip and told other raccoons, and now we have a whole horde of them. If I don’t leave scrambled eggs out on the porch, they wreak havoc on the entire park.” 

“Oh.” Steve takes several steps back now, clearly satisfied by Eddie’s answer. “Are they cute?” 

Eddie’s not a hundred percent sure it’s possible to get whiplash from a conversation, but if it is, he’s experiencing a pretty severe case of it right now. “Are you sure you’re not concussed?” 

Steve waves him off. “Hop gave me the all clear last night. Told me to ice it with some peas, which is why I came here.” 

“Okay…” 

“So is she cute? This Gertrude raccoon?” 

“I mean, she’s a raccoon, so yes, obviously.”

“Right,” Steve nods, then glances at the bag in Eddie’s hand. “Four dozen eggs is a lot for one person to make. Do you want some help?” 

Jesus H. Christ, what is going on right now? 

“You, Steve Harrington, want to help me make scrambled eggs for a family of raccoons?” 

Steve shrugs. “Beats sitting at home alone with a bag of peas on my head.” 

“What the hell,” Eddie mutters to himself, before turning to Steve. “Alright, Harrington. You can come help, but no distractions. If we don’t have eggs out on the porch by 9:30, Gertrude will make us pay.” 

“Nothing’s scarier than a hungry woman,” Steve jokes. “Lead the way.”