#And Steve just stretches the neck down and Eddie is just like OH

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie, who is intently watching Steve, fidgeting every so often. If Eddie was a cat, his tail would be flicking back and forth with rapid increasing movements as he got ready to attack.

Steve, who was so innocently watching the game, happens to realize he hasn't heard Eddie say anything for awhile. Which means one (1) thing: he's up to mischief.

Steve barely has time to turn his head to look when Eddie tackles into him. Steve falls back further onto the couch with a grunt as his boyfriend wrenches his shirt up. "The hell-" Steve's hands are in the air, unsure if he should pull Eddie closer or push him away.

The hesitation gives Eddie enough time to attempt to slither under his shirt. Eddie can only fit his head and the tops of his shoulders under Steve's form-fitting t-shirt, but it's enough. His eyes light up at the torso covered in hair and freckles.

Eddie lays his head against Steve's chest with a dull thud, echoing the thudding of Steve's heart. Eddie snakes his arms around Steve's waist. Eddie can feel Steve slowly place a hand on his back, and stroke up and down his spine.

Steve lightly pulls the neck back so he can look down his shirt at Eddie. Eddie doesn't see it, the look on his face, content to just lay there with his eyes closed. But the adoration, love, and pure glee can't be held back on Steve's face.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

Eddie loads the dryer but leaves it open for now; Steve’s asleep on the couch, his pup on the play mat on the floor next to him. Eddie checks the pup every few minutes; he’s pretty content right now, making a concerted effort to get his romper covered foot into his mouth.

He’s a pretty good pup, as far as Eddie can tell. Eddie’s apartment is a mirror of Steve’s, sharing the lounge wall, which means Eddie doesn’t really hear anything at night, their bedrooms are as far apart as they can be.

He’s heard him once in the day though, mid afternoon, crying. Just that once though, and Steve says he only wakes up once in the night for a feed and a change, and apparently that’s pretty good. Or at least, Steve seems happy with it, Eddie has no clue what's normal or not for new pups. Or any pups.

Steve’s still taking the opportunity to nap, though, and Eddie’s letting him. The pup is only ten days old, after all.

Eddie figures he can do their lunch dishes too, so he heads into the kitchen to tidy up. It doesn’t feel weird, letting himself help out around Steve’s place. Feels like home. Feels right.

Eddie likes it.

His Alpha definitely likes it.

Eddie’s done the dishes, dries them, puts them away, and decides it’s time for another loop of the apartment to check on Jamie. He’s fine. He’s waving his arms about and making happy pup gurgling noises.

There’s a knock at the door. Sharp. Very confident; also very fucking annoying. Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve and, yup, whoever it is has disturbed Steve and he’s stretching on the couch, starting to wake.

Eddie answers the door, finding the most petite female alpha he’s ever seen in his life. She frowns spectacularly at the sight, and scent, of Eddie, “can I help?”

“This is Steve’s apartment.” It is not at all delivered as a question, and Eddie guesses if she knows Steve well, she can scent damn well that this is his apartment.

“...can I help?” Eddie repeats, trying his damnedest not to let his hackles rise at the strange Alpha pushing on their boundaries. There’s a new pup in the apartment, and Eddie’s Alpha is the most alert it’s ever been right now.

“Eddie, who is it?” Steve calls from inside, and the Alpha steps closer.

Eddie has to resist the urge to just slam the door, but he can’t stop himself from swinging the door tighter to himself, blocking the doorway with his body, when the Alpha takes a step forward.

“Steve, it’s Nancy,” she calls.

“Oh.” Steve says, and Eddie can’t work out that tone at all, “okay Eddie, she can come in.”

Eddie still pauses for a second, having a mad glare off with this tiny Alpha, before he backs down and makes just enough space for her to pass.

She ignores him, going straight in and hovering near the couch, clearly pausing when she catches sight of the pup, “I heard you’d had a pup but…”

Steve sighs, bending down from where he’s sitting to scoop Jamie up into his lap, “his name is James.”

Eddie can feel how fucking awkward this is, the atmosphere between these two palpable. Eddie debates leaving, for a split second, this isn’t actually, anything to do with him.

He doesn’t though, he can’t, he shuts the door, and then hovers awkwardly behind the couch, and behind Steve.

Nancy eyes him again, and Eddie stares right back. Steve sighs. “If you two want to have a pissing contest you can do it some place else. You’re making it stink in here.”

As if on cue, Jamie starts crying.

“You’re right, he should go,” Nancy says.

“Excuse you?” Eddie can feel his eyebrows dragging his whole fucking face up into a scowl.

“Oh no,” Steve stands, “we’re not doing this, Eddie, do you mind taking him a sec?”

Eddie swells with pride that Steve would trust him with the pup, right this second. He probably actually puffs his chest up like an idiot, but he can’t make himself care. He takes Jamie into the nursery, bouncing him and holding him so he can scent at his neck, making nonsensical shushing noises. Unfortunately he can’t hear Steve and Nancy talking over Jamie’s half formed warbling in his ear, but it only feels like a couple of minutes before the pup settles and the front door clicks shut.

Steve comes in, looking tired suddenly. Tired and worn, “you okay?”

Steve shrugs, “she just came to remind me that I’m a stupid omega.”

Eddie has to bite back a growl, “she what?”

Steve laughs, but it’s empty and there’s no humor in it, “she didn’t actually say that. She said I would have been better to have a little more security before I had a pup. That having an Alpha I’m not mated too around the place is a bad idea. She asked if you were the father.”

For a second, Eddie’s heart feels like it tries to beat twice in one go, “what did you tell her?”

“That I don’t know who the father is. Technically true, but I put it like that to get a rise out of her. She always thought I was...flighty.”

“That’s a very polite way of putting that.”

Steve shrugs, coming close and scenting the top of his pups head, “I just wanted a mate. A family. Someone serious,” he shrugs, “I guess you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs or whatever. Just never...found the one that turned out to be a prince.” And Steve scents sad. He scents so godamn sad, “but I’ve got Jamie now, and we don’t need anyone? Do we pup?”

Eddie excuses himself, and goes home.

The knocking at Eddie’s door could be described as fucking obnoxious, so Eddie knows it’s Robin before he yanks it open.

“Steve said he hadn’t seen you for a couple of days.”

“Uh hu.”

“He also said Nancy had been over, was she a bitch? Did she say something to you?”

“No-”

“So why are you avoiding Steve?”

“I am not avoiding Steve-”

“Great, so you won’t mind coming over then. Me and Chrissy brought take out.”

Eddie sighs down at his adventure Crocs, listening to the happy chatter from inside the apartment. He really needs to get it together. He forces himself to think about that fact that he’s just made an amazing new friend, and that he gets to be a part of Steve’s life, and that he should be happy with that.

He really, really needs to be happy with that.

He’s just, he thinks, gotten his shit under control enough to knock when Robin drags the door open, “oh, figured you’d gotten lost, was just about to mount a search and rescue."

Steve and the girls are piled onto the couch, so Eddie takes the armchair. Jamie’s in his Moses basket, off to one side where Steve can look over him. The coffee table is covered with take out.

“Eddie,” Steve smiles all happy at the sight of him, “we missed you, you been busy?”

“Uh, yeah, work, you know, got busy,” Eddie says lamely. He can feel Robin eyeballing him, so he ignores her in favor of duck rolls and chicken chow mien.

They go back to the conversation they were clearly having before Eddie arrived, “I’ll definitely go out with you,” Chrissy is saying, “I mean, I won’t be any good at it, I’ve literally never played basketball, but you can teach me.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, you have cheerleader reflexes. I just need to practice with someone to get back in shape before I go out with the guys again, you know.”

“Yeah,” Chrissy agrees, “just getting out there will do you good.”

Steve hums, “I’m already getting really restless, you know?”

“I’d be climbing the walls, have you been out for a run yet?”

“Couple of times, but was more of a brisk walk, with the stroller, but I felt so much better afterwards.”

“Well, when you do get out for one, let me know, I can come with you for the first few while you find your feet?”

“Yeah, that would be great, I don’t know how far I’ll manage, but I’ve really got to get moving.”

“Eddie, help me with the coffee?” Robin distracts Eddie away from Steve and Chrissy’s, quite frankly, horrifying conversation. Sports? Running?

“You look like you’re going through the seven stages of grief, or whatever,” Robin laughs at him.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, I went though the same thing with Chris.”

“What...thing?”

She turns to him, rolling her eyes, “you just realized that you’ve fallen in love with a jock?”

“Oh. I-Oh no.”

“Oh, sure, I can watch Jamie,” Eddie finds himself agreeing easily.

Steve’s wearing...well. Eddie’s not sure. He can't look. They’re shorts, Eddie’s pretty sure. They’re...green, maybe? But the most important feature is that they’re so tiny as to be practically indecent. Hence Eddie maintaining fierce eye contact.

Behind Steve, Chrissy is...stretching? Eddie guesses that’s what that is? Steve’s already got a little color in his cheeks and he’s bouncing on the spot a little.

“I’m real out of shape so we won’t be gone long, okay? Like, half hour, max.”

“Sure,” Eddie grabs his keys and slides into his adventure Crocs.

“He’s literally just been fed and had a change, he should sleep the whole time. Obviously help yourself to anything,” Steve is saying as Eddie follows him down the hall, "I've got my phone, so just call if you need and we can come straight back."

Jamie is there in his basket, the TV playing something quietly, and Steve kneels and scents his pup real quick before he goes.

The curve of Steve's ass is peeking out of the bottom of the shorts, the milky skin inside his spread thighs- Eddie stares at the ceiling. Nope nope nope, “sure,” he tells Steve, and the ceiling, “we got this.”

Eddie waits for the door to click shut before he moves again, looking down at Jamie, who gurgles, "what the fu-I. Sorry. I shouldn't swear in front of you but, I mean. I'm pretty sure I'm in love with your dad, is the thing."

Jamie farts, and then starts to cry.

Eddie sighs.

[starrystevie]

eddie’s going on a tinder date with a cute guy named steve.

he likes his freckles, brown eyes and cheeky grin. they don’t have much in common but the conversations they have in the app messages flows suspiciously easily. he’s a bit in love and antsy at the table as he watches the door anxiously for his date.

he sees person after person walk into the bar and his beer is dripping condensation onto his hand as he grips it, nerves shooting through the roof. eddie glances at the table and then back up to the door when a guy walks in and if eddie wasn’t waiting for his date, he’d want to go talk to him.

he’s cute, hot even, floppy brown hair and a charming grin, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looks around the bar. his shirt clings to him in just the right way and his jeans fit him a bit too perfectly. eddie can’t help but stare and then the guy is staring back while he waves, ducking his head as he walks over.

“hey, eddie,” the man breathes out, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “sorry i'm late. parking was a bitch.”

and eddie’s confused. because this guy has brown eyes but not the ones he expected. freckles that are more spread out and distinct, trailing down to his neck instead of blanketing his face. his smile is perfect and he’s looking at eddie like he knows him. eddie’s a bit stunned, gaping at the guy with a slack jaw, because he’d remember someone as handsome as him if they’d met before.

“…hi?” he says like it's a question, taking a sip of his beer to do something with his hands.

he watches as the man’s eyebrows crease in confusion and the way his shirt stretches over his chest as he takes off his jacket. “it’s- i’m steve? you are eddie, right?”

eddie can feel his own eyebrows raising, wiping off his damp hand to fish his phone out of his pocket. he quickly finds steve’s profile, ignoring the messages they've sent each other over the past weeks that leave his stomach filled with butterflies, and pulls up the profile picture steve uploaded.

looking at it closely, he glances at who he thinks is steve, at the freckles dusting over his face and the toothy grin he's flashing at the camera. he's not exactly they type eddie usually goes for, but he's witty and sweet and knows about dnd, apparently, so what's not to love?

but then he looks at the other person in the picture that's slightly out of focused next to ‘steve’. looks at the two moles stark on the side of his neck, his pink tinted cheeks. the floopy brown hair and the pretty brown eyes and-

“steve?!” eddie exclaims, looking between the man in front of him and the picture on his phone. “you’re steve?”

the guy- steve- grins sheepishly, leaning on his elbows over the table to look at eddie’s eyes phone. he’s close, too close, close enough that eddie wants to-

“ohh,” he says and scratches at the back oh his head, eyes downturned with a blush trailing up his neck. “yeah, maybe i shouldn’t have used a group photo for a dating app.”

“so who did i think you were?”

their eyes meet and even in the dim bar light, eddie finds himself falling into the specks of green he sees. steve looks at the phone quickly then back up with a smirk. “my best friend, tommy. he’s kind of an asshole, though. you’re better off with me.”

“is that so?” eddie leans back, taking a sip of his beer, and really takes in his date that he now knows is steve. his toned arms, his broad shoulders, his pretty pink cheeks and pretty pink lips.

“what, are you disappointed?”

steve smiles gently and it lights up his face in a way eddie isn’t expecting. between the way he looks in a dingy bar and the way talking with steve is easier than any date he’s had before, he can’t imagine what disappointment he could ever possibly feel knowing that his date is who he is.

suddenly there’s a foot hooking around his ankle and it sends goosebumps tingling up his spine. steve’s smile softens just a bit and eddie can feel himself mirroring it back, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“i don’t think disappointed’s the right word.”

crossposted on twitter!

[paperbackribs]

update: 🐺werewolf Steve, 🦇bat Eddie completed on Ao3 here

How to survive a werewolf attack, Eddie mentally repeats to himself in a determinedly bright manner, channelling every nature documentary he’s ignored. His resolve does little to quiet the jolt of fear that had run through him as it turned into— that.

“How to survive a werewolf attack,” Eddie mutters to himself as it pads one giant paw towards him in the middle of Steve’s living room, hoping that speaking aloud will clear the bees buzzing in his brain, focusing all his thoughts in one direction: he should run.

“How the fuck do I survive a werewolf attack?” Eddie frantically yells at Dustin standing by the couch, grinning a gummy smile back at him with his hands casually thrown in his pockets.

The wolf growls lightly at his tone and Eddie’s head snaps back, alarmed that he’d allowed himself to look away from those intent yellow eyes for even a moment. But as scary as the predatory look is, the size of its head is just as terrifying. As large as Eddie’s torso with a wide, fanged mouth to match. Faintly, Eddie mentally compares one long tooth to the length of his hand.

This is how he dies Eddie realises with a thumping heart.

Not the bats.

Not Vecna.

No, a giant, golden mahogany werewolf nearly as tall as his fully grown adult body is going to open that massive mouth and swallow him down whole.

The beast stops, gaze narrowing to the pulse pounding in Eddie’s neck and he quickly slaps a hand over it, trying to limit the temptation of the tasty blood slash fresh meat vibe he must be giving off. It sits back on its heels; a movement Eddie feels shudder through the carpet at his feet and turns its head to Robin with a slight whine.

She scowls at Eddie, stepping forward to bury her hand comfortingly into the plush at its furry neck. “Don’t listen to him, Steve. He’s just being a big baby.” Shifting her fingers to scratch under its ears, the werewolf—Steve, Eddie hastily corrects himself as Robin continues to glare at him—half-closes its eyes in bliss. Though, he notes that it—he—still keeps his gaze steadily trained on Eddie.

Swallowing, Eddie tries to remember what they had just been talking about, but it’s lost in the chaotic whirlwind of his thoughts and the adrenalin urging his heels back. All of it consumed by the conviction that Eddie is prey in front of predator and about to be fed to what used to be Steve Harrington.

“Oh my god,” he moans, hands coming up to pull his hair down to hide behind, “Am I a sacrifice?”

Lucas sighs in exasperation, “I told you we should’ve showed him photos or something first.” Max makes a derisive sound and sits cross-legged next to Steve’s wide chest; he gently leans against her with a small thump of his tail. “He was always going to freak out, may as well get it over with.”

Eddie would really like to get the small child away from the massive beast right now; despite the fact that Max is a sophomore and would likely rip him a new one at even the suggestion. But it does help, seeing her casually play with the fur under her hand, and the bees die down a little, just enough to remember why they had called him here.

“You wanted to show me this—” Max squints at him and Eddie changes tack “—show me Steve turning into a wolf because you’re concerned about me.” The ridiculousness of it strikes through him, bubbling over into half-hysterical laughter. “Shouldn’t you be worried about the massive fucking fangs near Max’s head right now.”

The wolf lets out a gusty sound that Eddie can only imagine is a sigh and thumps onto his belly, stretching his head out to rest on crossed-over paws as big as dinner plates. The position should look less threatening, but all Eddie can see is how the jaw of the creature has been thrown into sharp relief, emphasising how far it could probably unhinge if given an incentive. He slaps his hand back over his pulsing neck again.

El appears by his side and he nearly jumps a foot, not having noticed her approach while focusing so fiercely on the wolf. She takes his hand, gently saying, “It is okay, Eddie. He’s only Steve and he would never hurt you.”

He keeps a hold of her hand. The Steve he’s come to know since Spring Break has seemed like a pretty good dude, sure; but, the one thing he does know, is that the guy would take a bullet for every kid in this room.

It's not cowardice to hide behind a kid, he reassures himself. Not when the kid isn’t in any danger. Max shoots him a dark look again and he suspects that she’s seen through his intentions. He clears his throat, focussing on El’s kind and reassuring squeeze of his hand, “Right. Why is Steve a werewolf?”

“Good question,” the bill of Dustin’s hat bobs in his approval, “Back in ’84 we were in these tunnels, you see and —”

“Short version, Dustin,” Robin interrupts, which is frankly ironic of her Eddie thinks, knowing she falls into extended explanations herself.

Dustin screws up his face, but condenses the story, “We were attacked by dog versions of the demogorgons and since then Steve has gone all furry whenever he wants.” He waves a hand at the prostrate wolf who continues to placidly watch their conversation, “I see where you went with werewolf but technically, he’s not forced to turn at a full moon.”

Will exchanges a look with Mike as they lean against the opposite wall, “Not technically, no. But he does get weird around it.” El tugs him to sit down with her and Max, but Eddie lets go of her hand, unwilling to let cede the high ground when it’s the only thing keeping his feet ready to run if Steve decides to demonstrate how weird he can get.

“Shouldn’t he have…” Eddie waves a hand over his face with a splaying motion of his fingers. He hasn’t seen a demogorgon yet, but the kids had described them to him, and the demo-bats apparently had the same set-up of gaping maws exploding like a fanged cross over their face.

“Another great question, Eddie,” Max rolls her eyes, “Let me just consult my instruction manual on the Upside Down and get back to you.”

“It’s a fair question, Max,” Lucas says softly and she relents, “Yeah, but he looks like he’s about to throw up and Steve would hate the mess.” The wolf snorts and nudges her with his muzzle; she lightly strokes the top of his nose with a responding smile.

“Our best guess is that the demo-dogs and demo-bats are a weird mix of actual animal and Upside Down creepiness,” Robin says, letting go of Steve to sit on the couch behind him, “And Steve got infected with the actual animal part but the woo-woo creepiness is what helps him turn into the wolf.”

Eddie’s guts turn to liquid, and he hovers suddenly uncertain hands over his body; right beside the areas still scarred from his own demo-bat bites. “Wait a second,” he rasps, “Steve got bit by the dog version and he turns into this. So if I got bit by the bat versions…”

“That’s why we’re telling you,” Lucas explains frankly, “It didn’t happen straight away with Steve so we thought that you should have a heads up at the very least.” Dustin gestures down Eddie’s body with a demanding hand, “And you can tell us if you notice any weird changes.”

“What?” Eddie asks a little wildly, “Like if my voice drops and I get hair in new and wonderful places?” Robin and Dustin exchange worried glances and the latter falls back on a soothing tone that he hasn’t managed since cornering Eddie in the boathouse while he was on the run, “There’s no guarantee that you were infected…” Robin winces at the word choice as Eddie’s eyes widen. “…but you should tell us if you notice anything different, just in case.”

Eddie wants to collapse onto the floor. Just crouch there with his hands pressed comfortingly against his eyes to shut out the insanity this afternoon has turned into. But eyeing how close Steve with his monster fangs is, Eddie refuses to get any closer. He may as well lay on his back and strip for good measure. That way Steve won’t get any denim stuck in his teeth; he thinks the last thought with a small hiccup.

The massive head raises and turns to look over its—his—shoulder with a questioning whine. Robin’s faces hardens slightly, and her arms come up to cross over her chest. “You go for a run or something, I’ve got this.”

Eddie watches those tree trunks for legs rise and feels something quake inside, doing nothing for his pounding pulse that had only just started to subside. Steve looks back at him one more time before licking Dustin’s hand and butting his head against Robin’s knee to trot through the living room towards the backyard.

Chapter 1

[saquesha13]

!!Tattoo artist Eddie!!

Steve never imagined himself as a tattoo kind of guy. But back in ‘85 after the mall fire, he ended up getting a small matching tattoo with Robin. Just a simple little ice cream cone on his inner wrist - Robin’s idea really. Something about almost burning to death together in a fire really seemed fitting for matching permeant ink on their skin.

It opened Steve’s eyes, changed his perspective, widened his horizons if you will on the whole idea of a tattoo.

Even just a dumb ass ice cream cone that bystanders see on his wrist, that they probably assume means jack shit but in reality it means the whole world to Steve - is pretty fucking cool.

So, Steve hears about this really talented tattoo artist in Chicago and knew he wanted this guy to do his next piece.

The shop is smaller than Steve expected, smack dead in the center of the city and Steve arrived 30 minuets early to his appointment because he was pretty damn nervous.

This tattoo is not as… innocent as his matching ice cream cone with Robbie’s. It isn’t as meaningful either…

Well, okay, it still has meaning, but only to Steve. He isn’t the kind of guy to get a tattoo just because. Tattoos are expensive first of all, and he doesn’t want his entire body covered in ink. That just isn’t his style. But a peek of a tattoo here and there? Yeah, that’s not bad, that what El would call bitchin’.

“Steve? Eddie is ready for you.” The petite blonde at the front desk smiled, her warm bubbly aurora feeling so oddly displaced in a shop like this, so far from what Steve was expecting.

“Ah, okay, thanks uh…”

“Chrissy.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes before pushing back the black beaded curtain leading to the back room.

“Thank you, Chrissy.” Steve hoped this girl couldn’t see just now nervous he was as he ducked between the beads. He was just starting to let his eyes roam around the gothic decor of the room when the hottest fucking man Steve has ever seen walks in, taking thick chunky rings off his pale fingers and putting them in the pocket of his skin tight black jeans.

Once his rings are safely put away, he tugs the thick dark curls off of his shoulders and tied it up on his head in a knot, some strands poke out framing his face.

“Steve, right?” The sexy man speaks, apparently. His deep voice sounded like honey and pure bliss to Steve’s hears. A smile stretches across his lips making the dimples - of fucking course he has dimples - poke out on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Steve apparently broke at the sight of this man, because seriously who the hell does this guy think he is coming in looking like THAT?! His voice cracked when he tried to speak making his cheeks turn rosey shade of pink and he had to clear his throat before properly speaking.

“U-Uh, yeah, me is Steve. I-I mean, I am Steve.” He would smack his own forehead with his hand if Eddie wasn’t busy holding it, giving him a nice firm handshake. Steve’s face was burning.

Scratch smacking face, Steve wishes he could just bash his head in on the brick decorative wall in the corner. Put him out of his misery. He’s doing a mighty fine job at humiliating himself already.

“This your first time?” Eddie smirked, his voice somehow dropping lower than it was before.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, clearly confused, no lights on in his brain as his eyes darted between Eddie’s huge brown eyes to the tattoo peaking out under the v-neck of his black long sleeve shirt. God he wished he could see what that tattoo actually was, maybe lick it.

“Your first time getting a tattoo.” Eddie clarified, the smirk never leaving his face as he finally let go of Steve’s sweaty palm.

“Oh, no actually. I’ve had - “ Steve cleared his throat again, trying his dammed hardest to chill the fuck down. “Had got another tattoo before this one.”

“So, you’re not a virgin then?” Eddie winked as he slid on his rubber gloves, covering up the black inked tattoos on his broad hands that Steve suddenly wished he looked at before they were gone from his sight. Then he realized what Eddie just said and his head snapped up to the playful look on Eddie’s face.

Shit. Is Eddie actually flirting with him? Is this how Eddie speaks to all of his clients? Or has Steve finally lost his marbles?

“Nope, defiantly not a virgin.” Steve watched Eddie’s movements closely as he finalized setting up his supplies, grabbing the stencil of Steve’s tattoo. “Not a virgin with tattoos either.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet his own, something gleaming in his dark eyes that makes Steve’s levi’s suddenly feel a little too tight. The grin on Eddie’s face is down right sinful. “Well, Steve, as long as the sketch looks good to you and you are still good with the placement, we can get started.”

Steve leans over and looks down at Eddie’s sketch of what he had requested sitting in Eddie’s gloved hands. Just looking at the two words, at the way Eddie wrote the font knowing it was his work that will be forever on Steve’s body has Steve’s blush refusing to go away.

“Uh, cool. Okay. Yeah it looks good, really good.” Steve had to lean over Eddie’s shoulder to fully see the entire page, not that it was really necessary.

“Lay down on the bed, on your stomach.” Eddie gestured with his chin to the left, where the tattooing bed was. “Make sure you get those jeans off first,” Eddie huffed out a laugh as Steve was about to settle down on his belly, his face turning beat red in embarrassment feeling idiotic.

“You do want your ass tattooed still, right?” Eddie asked, his voice smug at the flustered look on Steve’s face.

“Well, yeah. Obviously. That is why I am here.” Steve scoffed, wondering why the hell he is blushing like a teenage girl in this sexy ass man’s presence. Usually Steve is the one making people blush, not the other way around.

“I don’t usually undress my clients… but I would for you.” Eddie nibbled on his bottom lip, making damn sure that Steve’s face stayed tomato red as Steve swore he saw Eddie look at him from head to toe.

He had to take a deep breath to get his damn body to cooperate downstairs before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging down his fly so he can scoot the denim and his grey briefs down over the curve of his ass leaving them just barley covering his junk in the front and staying on his legs.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he climbed on the bed on his stomach, not trusting his voice whatsoever as his eyes said more than enough, keeping them planted on Eddie’s.

“This good?” He rested his chin on his hands, his entire bare ass out in the open, wondering why the hell Jonathan Byers failed to mention how damn hot his favorite tattoo artist was.

Eddie for once seemed a little lost for words. He doesn’t stay in the room when his clients undress, it’s unprofessional. He never ever offers to take their clothes off for them either. But for some reason his feet stopped working the second Steve’s fingers went to unbutton his jeans.

“Absolutely perfect, pretty boy.” Eddie damn near purred, wondering how he lucked out, to be the one to tattoo this angels ass. Getting fucking payed to touch his ass. To tattoo the words Bite Me on his juicy round cheeks.

It isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo tattooing someone’s butt cheeks. He’s done almost every body part at this point in his tattooing career. But fuck, no client has ever affected him, not like this.

“Skins sensitive here.” Eddie licked his lips as he stepped close to the bed, wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves so he could really feel Steve as he ran his fingers over the exposed skin before putting the shaving cream along his ass, shaving the light colored peach fuzz right off his literal peach. “Need numbing cream, sweetheart?”

“No. Don’t need numbing cream. Wanna feel it.” Steve hummed, looking over his shoulder at Eddie. Steve’s red face has faded to pink, finally calming down a bit trying to sit still so he isn’t wiggling his ass in Eddie’s face - not that he thinks Eddie would really mind too much if he did.

Eddie muttered something under his breath, his hands stilling over his ass from where he was wiping the shaving cream away with surprisingly soft hands.

It’s funny, Steve came in set on only getting one tattoo. But as he laid here on the bed, the tattoo gun buzzing as the needles push against his ass, all he can think about is coming back, getting more ink on his body, all over his tan skin as an excuse to come back and see Eddie.

To come back and get Eddie’s hands on him.

But when his appointment was over - much sooner than Steve would have liked - turns out he didn’t need to come back here.

Because Eddie invited him to go home with him.

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[plistommy]

Steve couldn’t stop thinking about Eddie’s big dick.

When he got the chance to get a taste of it for the first time after a long night full of tension, he couldn’t help the way he had fallen to his knees and gagged on it with the knowledge of never even sucking a dick before.

But he had done it. He had done it for Eddie and for his enormous fucking dick that kept making Steve’s mouth water whenever he saw it, hard or soft.

They had fooled around a lot after that night. They had tried frottage and some really nice stuff too, but Steve had an itch at the back of his mind that he couldn’t ignore.

He wasn’t inexperienced on sex. He has had plenty of partners, tried plenty of things, but… not with men.

Eddie was his first.

Steve knew how men had sex together. He wasn’t a stranger on the topic. He had read about it. Shit, even seen porn of it with Tommy when he was younger, so he knew how things happened.

That’s one of the reasons he couldn’t help but to imagine a scenario of Eddie just, stretching him open with his dick as he’d fuck Steve so fucking full that his hole would be dripping of Eddie’s cum once he’d pull out.

All of that made Steve feel so horny. Just even thinking about Eddie and his pretty cock.

And that’s how he ended up here, Eddie laid between his legs as Steve jerked him off, a heavy weight on his hand while Eddie moaned into his mouth.

”You feel so good” Eddie moaned as he kissed Steve’s cheek, thumbs pressing down into the meat of his legs as he squeezed his hips tightly, ”gonna make me cum.”

Steve whined, but stopped his hand. It made Eddie groan, but he turned his gaze to Steve’s eyes with a soft look.

”You ’kay?”

”Yeah! I’m… fine. I just- I have something I wanna try out…?” Steve said, bit nervous as he bit his bottom lip. He wanted to kick himself a little, but he couldn’t help how his charm slipped when Eddie looked at him with his dark and hungry eyes. The type of eyes that if he could, he’d eat Steve whole.

”Tell me, sweetheart.” Eddie dropped his voice lower and the way it made Steve want to whine should’ve been embarrassing, but it wasn’t. He would cry and beg for this man to do whatever he wanted for him and it wouldn’t make Steve feel like a less of a man.

”I have been thinking about you uh- you fucking me.” Steve confessed, his hand that was still wrapped around Eddie’s dick slowly moving which made Eddie groan.

”Shit,” Eddie moaned ”Yeah? How long?”

”’How long’ what?”

Steve let out a small moan as Eddie leaned closer to his ear ”How long have you been thinking about me fucking you, Steve?”

Oh, Eddie was mean. And Steve fucking loved it.

”Ever since I saw your dick.”

Eddie laughed a little, but not in a mean way. More like he was taken back, surprised, delighted and he couldn’t help but to kiss Steve’s neck.

”What was it about my dick?”

”Eddie, c’mon-”

”No, no, Steve. I wanna hear it. What was so special about my dick that it made Steeeeeeve Harrington so impressed that he wants to be fucked?”

Steve gave tight squeeze to Eddie’s dick, making the older boy hiss on top of him, but the fucker was still grinning down at Steve’s small pout.

”Well?”

”It’s huge, okay?” Steve whined out ”, I can’t stop thinking about it or staring at it! And I really wanna feel it inside me, Eddie. Like really badly! That’s the reason, so please babe, can we-”

Eddie kissed him quickly but deeply, swallowing Steve’s surprised moan and soon his hand was pushed away and Eddie was holding his legs up, moving them to rest on his shoulders.

Before Eddie could ask for lube, Steve nodded his head towards his bedside table and his boyfriend grinned as he found it.

”Half empty?”

”…Been practicing. In case you haven’t noticed the size of that thing.”

Eddie laughed and it made Steve snort a little too, but then cold liquid hit his hole and a finger was massaging it softly, before slowly pushing in. Steve let out a satisfied moan as he gripped onto Eddie’s forearm.

”You can add more.”

”You sure? I think we should take it slow-”

”Eddie, I fingered myself before you came here” Steve looked up at Eddie who had a puzzled look on his face ”, I think I can take more.”

”Holy shit, Steve, you’re…” Eddie kept moaning praises before adding a second and a third finger soon after, pushing knuckles deep inside Steve’s tight heat as he prepped the younger boy open.

Steve moaned, hands holding onto Eddie’s long hair as he was fingered. God, it felt amazing when Eddie was doing it for him. Way better when he did it on his own.

”I’m ready, babe, please-”

”Yeah…” Eddie kissed him, but pulled his fingers out of him. He made out with Steve while putting on a condom on his cock and lubed it before he lined himself up with Steve’s hole and fed his cock slowly into him.

Steve couldn’t breathe.

His voice got caught on a half-scream-half-moan and he held onto Eddie’s shoulders tightly as he felt every inch of his cock filling him up. He was pretty sure he could feel it all the way up in his throat.

”Edd- Eddie- Ah!” Steve let out a high-pitched cry, mouth gaping open as Eddie just kept going.

”Holy shit, holy shit, Steve. You’re so tight, you feel so amazing around me, shit, are you o-okay?”

Steve nodded, making Eddie whine as he held their forehead togethers. He gave Steve’s nose a small kiss as they both breathed loudly.

When Eddie finally bottomed inside, they both stilled and held onto each other. It was overwhelming for both of them and Steve was pretty sure he was shaking, but he wasn’t in pain. He was so incredibly full and he loved the feeling so fucking much.

”You’re so b-big. So thick, Eds, oh my god-”

Eddie whined on top of him, trying to keep his hips still, but the praise made him buck up a little and they both moaned in union.

”S-sorry!”

”It’s okay. You c-can move.”

”Are you sure, baby?” Eddie sounded so breathless.

Steve leaned up to kiss Eddie ”, Yes.”

That’s all it took.

Eddie took a hold of Steve’s legs, giving his knee a kiss before he pulled out and pushed right back in, making Steve moan like he never has.

Every drag of Eddie’s cock inside him was addicting to him. He never knew he would love this so much, but when Eddie’s dick hit that spot inside him, his prostate and how it made Steve’s toes curl and back arch from the bed, he knew he would never want to let go of this feeling.

”You’re so perfect,” Eddie moaned as he watched Steve, big eyes full of desire when he realized how much pleasure he’s giving to Steve.

Eddie kept holding onto him, but dropped Steve’s legs from his shoulders and laid them down onto the bed softly without slowing down his movements.

Steve took that as a cue to wrap his legs around Eddie’s waist instead, pulling in the other closer. Eddie kissed him and Steve kissed back, both of them melting into the kiss.

Steve pulled back, voice hoarse and needy ”Harder, please. Need you-”

”Sweetheart…” Eddie moaned before picking up the pace. Steve held onto his shoulders, loving the obscene sounds of Eddie’s hips meeting his ass. The wet noise of his dick sliding in and out Steve’s hole, fitting in there like a glove.

When Eddie rammed into him with two rough thrusts and a hand on Steve’s cock, Steve came loudly suddenly between their sweaty bodies.

He kept moaning as Eddie fucked him through the aftershock, the older boy chasing for his own release as he picked up the pace.

”Gonna- gonna come.” Eddie whined and Steve clenched tight around him.

When Eddie came with a loud groan, Steve was right. His load was fucking huge and he was a little disappointed he couldn’t feel it dripping down from his hole, but at least he got to see it inside the used condom when Eddie threw it to the nearest trash.

”You really think it’s that big?” Eddie asked once they were both fresh out from the shower and laying on his bed with soft music playing from the radio.

Steve groaned and threw a pillow at Eddie ”, Shut up!”

”Nah, dude!” Eddie cackled ”, Now it’s not the time to start acting shy mister ’Oh, it’s so big, Eddie!’”

Steve rolled his eyes and let out a dramatic sigh, but scooted closer to lay under Eddie’s arm when the other opened his arms for him.

Eddie gave him a small kiss and Steve melted, accepting his defeat. Not that there was even a battle to fight for.

”Yes.” Steve bit his bottom lip ”, I have never seen anyone else with a dick like yours and if I had known you were hiding that monster under there earlier I’d-”

”You’d what?” Eddie grinned. He loved challenging Steve.

”Doesn’t matter.”

”Aw, don’t be like that!” Eddie complained before tickling Steve and it made Steve laugh loudly as he struggled to get away.

They messed around for a while before Eddie finally let Steve go and promised not to tickle him anymore after Steve threatened him with no kisses.

That always worked.

[estrellami-1]

Keep Me (And I’ll Keep You)

Ao3 Link

Eddie hums contentedly as he sits on the couch, beer in hand. The couch is cotton, a soft brown that matches the rest of the living room. It’s one of those fancy sectionals that, up until knowing Steve, Eddie had only seen in catalogs. It’s a comfy couch, and he hums again as he settles in, wiggling his butt and shoulders, doing his best to let the couch envelop him.

Steve, to his left, snorts as he sits down. “Looks like you’re trying to become one with the couch.”

“Hey, it’s comfortable,” Eddie says, giving an aborted shrug and leaning his head back.

Steve chuckles, then sobers. “Y’know, sometimes I think when I move out, what’s the one thing I’m gonna miss the most? What’s the one thing I want to bring with me? And nine times out of ten, it’s this couch.”

“What’s the other one?”

“The microwave.” Eddie snickers. “Hey, you laugh, but those things are expensive!” Steve defends himself, also laughing. He’s got one knee up on the couch, turned to face Eddie, leaning sideways against the back of the couch.

A shout startles them both, and Eddie whips his head around to the dining room, where the Party is gathered. Will is DM today, after a long brainstorming session with Eddie. He’d brought the kids here and is available in case Will gets stuck, but Eddie silently thinks Will downplays his abilities. He’s a damn good DM, especially for his age, and Eddie was actively considering joining in.

Ultimately he decided to let the kids have this one. Erica, no doubt, would’ve joked (at least, he thinks it’s a joke) about Eddie cramping their style.

So here he is, relaxing on the couch with the man of the house, who’s relaxing now that he knows there’s no actual danger, only imagined.

Steve sighs, leaning forward to put his beer on the coffee table. “One of these days I’m gonna wake up and find a grey hair, and I’m gonna know it came from them.”

Eddie snorts. “Oh, man, you think that’s bad,” he jokes, and continues on to tell a story about something the kids had done involving Dustin’s second cat, a balloon, and a car tire. He leans forward to put his beer down, too, and when he leans back again Steve slides forward, head coming to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

And here’s the deal, right? They don’t do that. They don’t casual touch like that. Eddie does, with most anybody, but Steve is in a class of his own, one that Eddie knows not to mess with for his own heart’s sake.

Said heart rabbits in his chest as he freezes, words drying up. He slowly looks over at Steve and sees closed eyes and open mouth. “Oh,” he whispers, cataloging the soft wisp of eyelashes resting on cheeks, the crinkle on his nose, scrunching up his moles, the lips slightly parted, driving damp puffs of breath to land on Eddie’s arm.

The next thing Eddie notices is Steve’s neck is at a weird angle. If he were to guess, he’d say Steve hadn’t been sleeping very well, and waking him is the last thing he wants to do. He tries to shimmy down the couch a little, to relax Steve’s neck some, but Steve’s upper body moves with his head, and now Eddie thinks the crick in his neck is more severe. “Fuck,” he mutters, shimmying down more, because surely it’ll work this time.

Something happens. He doesn’t know what, exactly, just knows that as he shimmies down Steve’s head slides down his shoulder, down his chest, to land on his stomach.

Steve murmurs something and shifts, turning his face into Eddie’s stomach as he stretches out, still asleep.

Butterflies awaken with a vengeance.

Shifting down his body means Eddie’s arm is free. He lifts it up nonsensically, as if not touching Steve of his own will is better than whatever the fuck is happening, but he can only hold his arm up for so long, so he eventually, gently rests it over Steve’s back and side. “What the fuck,” he mouths to himself.

It’s quiet and comfortable, though, the low murmur of voices in the other room doing nothing to keep Eddie awake, so it’s not long before he begins to drift off, too.

Sue him, he hasn’t been sleeping all that well, either.

He opens his eyes to Will walking into the room before seeing them and freezing. Eddie forces himself more awake, blinking rapidly until some of the fog lifts. He gestures Will closer with the hand not on Steve, and Will shakes his head, smiling. “We’re done,” he whispers. “I’ll call Jonathan.”

The words take a minute to make sense in Eddie’s brain. When they do, he shoots Will a thumbs up.

Will leaves, and Eddie succumbs to the siren call of sleep once more.

When he wakes up, he’s alone.

It’s morning, he can tell by the light in the room, natural now instead of artificial. His back is screaming at him, and his neck isn’t too happy either, so he takes his time sitting up and stretching, imagining the jokes Wayne would throw his way.

“Oh,” someone says, and Eddie looks over to see Steve, pink-cheeked, holding two mugs of coffee.

He seems to make a decision and crosses over to the couch, handing Eddie one of the mugs. It’s blue-and-white checkered, like Dorothy’s dress in The Wizard of Oz, and something about it makes Eddie smile even before Steve says, “Here. Enough sugar to give a bull a heart attack.”

Eddie takes a sip and hums gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

“I, uh. Think that’s my line.” Steve’s cheeks are even pinker now, and he’s studiously not looking at Eddie. “And sorry. For falling asleep on you.”

There’s about a million things Eddie wants to say that he bites his tongue on. Ends up with, “Actually, I slept really well last night.”

Steve’s cheeks are still pink, but he at least glances at Eddie when he says, “Yeah. Me too.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, Eddie thinks. “I haven’t been sleeping super well, actually. You know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “I do.”

It’s silent for a second, long enough that Eddie begins to inanely suggest, “Maybe we could-”

At the same time, Steve starts, “What if we-”

They break off at the same time, blinking at each other before laughing. “You first,” Eddie says.

Steve’s cheeks burn again. “What if we did it again?”

Eddie grins. “I was gonna say maybe we could do it again,” he admits.

Steve giggles, and Eddie has to work to not stare at him with actual hearts in his eyes.

“Not every night,” Eddie hazards. God knows he wants to do it every night. God also knows it’s the fastest way to break his own heart.

“No, of course not. Just- when it gets bad?”

It’s bad every night, Eddie swallows, chokes on. “Yeah,” he says quietly.

“And- we’ll just call each other, I guess.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “You- you’re welcome to call whenever. Day or night. Doesn’t matter.”

“Same for you.”

“What about Wayne?”

“Works nights. And I’m home during the day. If I’m not, I’m with you guys. No chance of waking him up.”

Steve snickers. “Unless you sleep through the phone ringing.”

Eddie snorts. “Fat chance. Every little sound wakes me up, now.”

Steve really looks at him. “Yeah,” he finally murmurs. “I know how that is.”

They finish their coffee, Eddie leaves, and Steve heads into work.

That night, four seconds before Eddie gets up to call Steve, the phone rings.

He bolts down the hall, grabs it so hard he hears the plastic casing creak. “Hello?”

“Eddie.” Steve sounds… small. Relieved, like he wasn’t sure Eddie would answer. “Thought-” Eddie can hear the crease between his brows. “Dream, I guess.” He sniffs, clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“No, hey,” Eddie tells him, “that’s why we’re doing this, you don’t need to say sorry. D’you wanna stay on the phone for a few more minutes? Or can I go for, like, ten minutes?” Usually the drive to Steve’s house is more like fifteen, he knows, but like hell is he following the speed limits when they’re both feeling like this.

“No,” Steve murmurs. “I can- I can go, sorry, you should- you were asleep, I bet-”

“Nope,” Eddie tells him cheerfully. “I wasn’t asleep and I actually was about to call you. I’m gonna hang up so I can drive over, Steve. Are you at a place where you’ll be okay if I hang up?”

Steve hums. “Think so.”

“I’m not getting off until that’s a yes.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “No, it’s- ‘m fine, sorry, you can- if you wanna go-”

“Steve. You’re kinda proving that you’re not okay right now.”

“Oh.”

Eddie huffs out an approximation of a laugh. “Yeah. Think you can take some deep breaths for me?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll do it with you, ready?” He coaches Steve through a breath, then through three more, until Steve’s able to inhale without it sticking. “Good. How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” Steve admits. “You don’t have to come over if you don’t want to.”

“Stevie, baby, I don’t have to do anything.”

He’s grinning, hamming it up for Steve, and can hear the smile in return, the little huff that means a laugh. “But you’re coming over? Because you want to?”

“Ding ding ding, that is correct!” Steve giggles. When it dies down, Eddie quietly says, “I’ll see you in ten, okay?”

“Fifteen,” Steve counters, “don’t speed.”

“Five,” Eddie says nonsensically.

Steve giggles as he says, “You’re already here?”

“I’m already in your bed, are you kiddin’ me? I got there half an hour ago.”

Steve laughs again. When he sobers, he says, “Fifteen. I’ll unlock the door in thirteen, not a minute sooner.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Eddie says, “seven,” and hangs up to Steve’s laughter.

He’s smiling as he pulls shoes on and grabs his keys and wallet. He’s out the door in two minutes, locking it behind him and hopping into his van.

He makes it to Steve’s in twelve minutes, hoping the door’s unlocked so he can walk in.

Steve opens it before he can even get there. “What happened to fifteen?”

Eddie shrugs, smiles. “You know me.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling as he moves to let Eddie in. “Unfortunately I do.”

“Hey,” Eddie says, affronted, “what’s that mean,” and pulls Steve into a hug before he can say anything.

Steve stiffens for a second, not expecting the hug, but then relaxes into it so quickly Eddie’s almost sure he imagines the stiffness. “Thanks for coming,” he whispers.

“Thanks for calling,” Eddie whispers back, pulling away with a smile. “Bed? Or not yet?”

“Bed,” Steve agrees, leading him upstairs before stopping halfway. “Or- would you prefer the couch?”

“Why the hell would I prefer a couch over a bed,” Eddie demands, nudging Steve to keep him moving. His words are soft, though, as he says, “Wherever you want.”

“Bed,” Steve agrees, just as softly.

They climb in then stare at each other. “How do you wanna do this?” Steve asks him.

“However you want.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll take too much,” he whispers.

Eddie thinks, privately, Steve’s more fucked up than anyone knows. “Not if I’m willing to give you everything,” Eddie swears, heart in his throat and on the line. “C’mon. You called me. Help me learn how to help you.”

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?”

“It won’t be,” Eddie swears, “but yeah. I’ll tell you.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment. Eddie does his best to keep his expression open and willing. He’s not sure how he’s doing, but it must be good enough for Steve, because he burrows in, tucking his face into Eddie’s chest, throwing an arm over Eddie’s waist and relaxing.

Eddie responds in kind, laying an arm over Steve’s, around his back, and pulling him in that little bit closer. “Sleep,” he whispers, even as he succumbs and his eyes close.

When he awakens in the morning, it’s still dark, but Steve’s getting up. He makes a questioning noise, reaching out for him.

Steve squeezes his hand before placing it down again. “Just going to the bathroom,” he whispers. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He falls back asleep.

When he wakes up again, Steve’s back in bed, curled up against him, breath whiffling across Eddie’s chest.

Something in his chest cracks open as he lets himself study Steve. There’s a slight furrow in his brow, like even in sleep he’s still holding onto stress. Eddie wants to hold him by the ankles and shake him until all the bad thoughts come out and only the good remain. A sigh escapes his mouth at the thought, wisping over Steve’s face, and it’s apparently enough to wake him. Eddie watches as Steve’s face scrunches and his feet kick out in a stretch. He rolls over closer to Eddie, putting his face in Eddie’s chest, then freezes and pulls back, looking up at Eddie with a confused frown that quickly turns into a shy smile. “Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” Eddie responds.

“Y’wake?” Steve asks nonsensically, but Eddie understands: is he really up, or is he going back to sleep.

Eddie shrugs in response. Steve nods, rolling back over into Eddie’s chest and sighing.

The thing in Eddie’s chest cracks more.

He wraps his arm around Steve again. He feels it, the moment Steve falls asleep, all tension leeching from his body.

He’s warm and solid, breathing evenly, and Eddie’s eyes don’t want to open, go longer and longer between blinks.

He falls asleep.

When he wakes up again—the third and final time—Steve’s out of bed, and the sheets are cool to the touch. “What,” he mutters, brows furrowed, palm on the sheets next to him. The area is slowly warming up, from his body heat, but they were definitely cold.

He sits up, stretches, scratches his head, and makes his way downstairs to look for Steve.

He can smell coffee and pancakes halfway down. The thing in his chest is wide open, hungry, hurting.

Hunting.

He thinks, stuck halfway down the stairs, he needs to stay away from Steve.

He has no idea how he’s going to do that.

He finishes his walk and finds himself in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the wall, watching Steve cook.

He flips a pancake, shimmies his hips when the pancake is perfectly brown, and slides it off onto a stack next to him. He pours more batter in and turns to get some coffee, freezing for a second when he sees Eddie. “Hey, you’re up! How’d you sleep?”

Eddie nods, watching Steve walk over to the coffee pot and grab two mugs. “Pancakes are almost done, coffee’s here, sugar’s here-” he points, “-and milk’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”

“Um,” Eddie says, and heads toward the coffee.

Steve grins. “Not a morning person? I can tone it down if you need me to.”

Eddie waves him off, doctors his coffee, and takes a long sip, humming at the taste and warmth. “You’re fine,” he finally says. “I just need, like, five minutes for my brain to go oh, we’re awake, I should work.” He adopts a funny voice for his brain, smirking when Steve laughs.

“Fair enough. Any plans for the day?”

Eddie hums as he thinks through his schedule. “Band practice with the guys tonight, and…” he doesn’t have any plans with Wayne, but he knows he needs to talk this through, so, “Wayne wants my help with… something. I dunno.”

Steve snorts. “Sounds exciting.”

“Oh, yeah, the height of excitement, I’m just gonna expire from anticipation.” He sends Steve a flat look, and Steve cackles as he flips another pancake.

“Well let me know if this super-exciting thing you’re doing needs another set of hands.”

“Will do,” Eddie says. “Thanks for breakfast, by the way.”

Steve shrugs. “I like cooking. Not much reason to when it’s just me, so I don’t usually do pancakes, but I do enjoy it.”

“Well,” Eddie says, leaning on the counter, “isn’t that reason enough?”

Steve stills for a moment, tilting his head. “Huh. I never thought of it that way.”

The thing in Eddie’s chest grumbles.

His stomach also grumbles, and Steve hears that, laughing as he retrieves a plate. “Here, take some, syrup is in the pantry and jelly is in the fridge.” He stacks a plate with four pancakes, thrusting it Eddie’s direction.

Eddie notices there’s only two on his plate, takes one from his pile and puts it on Steve’s. “Only if you eat too.”

Steve smiles at him, a small, real thing that makes the thing, the monster in his chest ache. “Okay.”

Eddie leaves soon after, quoting his thing with Wayne, makes sure Steve knows he can call if he needs someone.

Steve makes sure he knows the same.

The monster claws at his chest.

He covers the wince with a grin, waves on his way out, jumps into his van.

Turns the tape up until the drumbeat drowns out his thoughts.

He’s back to the trailer in fifteen. Wayne’s there, awake, facing the door when Eddie comes through. “Thought so,” he says, first thing. “You needta talk.”

Eddie collapses into a ball on the couch.

Wayne joins him, pulls him in, like he’s two instead of twenty, like a heart in danger of breaking is the same as a skinned knee. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to me. That’s what you do.”

“I really like him, Wayne.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s- he’s so nice, but he-”

He sniffles. Only realizes then that he’s crying. “Wayne,” he asks, “am I a good person?”

“You are.”

“Why’s the worst shit always happen to good people?”

Wayne sighs. “I wish I knew.”

“He’s better than me. And he’s had so much shit thrown his way. And I just- I wanna help but I dunno how when I see him like this.”

“You wanna take care of him.”

“Yeah.” Another sniffle. “But he doesn’t want that.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Didn’t need to. I can see it.”

Wayne hums. “Y’know when you first got here, you were scared of me? Not ‘cause I’m Al’s brother. Because of me. ‘Cause my face scared you. You thought I was always mad. Sometimes what you see isn’t how it is.”

“But how do I know?”

“You don’t. Not unless you talk to him.” He rubs a hand down Eddie’s spine. “How ‘bout that Birdie girl? She’s his best friend. She might be able to tell you more.”

“She won’t tell me anything.”

“My momma had a saying. Honesty begets honesty. Talk to her. Tell her the truth. She’ll tell you a truth right back.”

“…Today?”

“Better sooner ‘n later, but I guess it don’t gotta be today.”

Eddie sighs. “Today.” He picks at the knee of his sleep pants, worn with age. “How?”

“How do you talk to her?”

“Mhm.”

“Honesty, boy. ‘S about all y’got.”

Eddie sighs, leans into Wayne. Lets himself be held for a moment longer.

Wayne sighs, too. “Wanna watch that animal documentary?”

Eddie immediately perks up. “Really? You’ll watch it with me?”

Wayne smiles, nudges him off his lap. “Go put it in.”

Eddie grins as he races to do so, and the next two hours is lost to polar bears and orcas.

After it’s over, Wayne stands with a sigh and ruffles Eddie’s hair as he walks past. “Got work tonight. Y’mind bein’ quiet today?”

Eddie hums. “Imma go find Robin. Talk to her. Wish me luck.”

“Y’dont need it,” Wayne says, “but luck anyways.” He waves as he passes into his room.

Eddie grabs his car keys, looks down, and sets the keys back down before trudging to his room to change.

Soon enough he’s walking into Family Video. “Buckley!” He greets happily.

“Munson!” She parrots before her voice flattens. “The fuck you want.” Her eyes are sparkling, though, and the corners of her mouth are twitching up, so he pays no mind to her words. He drapes himself over the counter with a dramatic sigh. “You ‘lone?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we… talk?”

“This is starting to feel like a visit to the principal’s office.”

He pops his head up, eyes wide. “No, no, no! It’s not that at all! It’s me.” He lays his head back down with another sigh. “It’s… okay, so, let’s say, hypothetically, I… liked someone.”

“Steve, got it, go on.”

He puts an arm over his face. “And let’s say—still hypothetically—I did something, said something, that means we’re gonna be in close contact a lot more than before.”

“Okay. I’m following so far.”

He shrugs. “What do I do?”

“What’s the thing?”

“Y’know how he hosted Hellfire last time?”

“Sure.”

“Well I wasn’t playing, Will was DM and I was just there for guidance if he needed it, which he didn’t, kid’s a natural, but. Anyways. I was sitting with Steve in the living room, and we were talking, and I start telling him this story and… he falls asleep on my shoulder.” He groans. “And he looked so peaceful, I couldn’t disturb that, y’know?”

“Okay, I’m following so far.”

“Well turns out when there’s nothing to do but sit there, you end up falling asleep, too.” He clenches a hand in his hair. “We cuddled, Birdie. And then we told each other that we slept well, so I, like the absolute fool I am, said he can call me. If he wants. If he needs someone.”

“He called you last night.”

“He did. I dunno what to do, Robbie.”

“I’m not in the business of telling you what to do. But I can tell you if you told him, he wouldn’t react badly.”

“You’re sure?”

She lays her head down next to his, meeting his eyes. “I’d bet my life on it.”

“So… you think I should tell him?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Eddie.”

He groans and shuts his eyes. “This sucks.”

“Feelings usually do,” she nods, standing up and ruffling his hair. “But if I were you, I’d talk to him.”

Eddie makes a face. “Today?”

Robin shrugs. “Is there a better time?”

Eddie thinks it through. “Tomorrow,” he decides. He looks up at Robin. “If I don’t tell him tomorrow, can you tell him the day after?”

Robin raises her brows. “You want me to?”

“Yeah. Like… like incentive. Because if I know it’s gonna happen anyways, it’s better if I do it, right?”

Robin smiles. “I’ll tell him the day after tomorrow if you don’t.”

“Thanks.” He squeezes her hand, straightens up. Smiles. “I’ve gotta run. You’re a good friend, Buckley.”

She smiles, rolls her eyes. “Get outta here, Munson.”

His grin grows wider. “You’re a good friend, Buckley, I don’t know what I do without you!”

“Die, probably,” she deadpans, also grinning. She makes a shooing motion. “You said you’ve gotta run, so go!”

He laughs and runs out, waving over his shoulder.

He makes it to practice just as Gareth does, and not much practice happens that day, but is it really his fault that Jeff’s mom made lemonade and cookies for them?

He gets home that night, tired but happy, and watches a little TV before going to bed.

It’s a scary movie, not one he’s seen before, with a girl with long, dark hair, obscuring her face. She seems to grin right at Eddie and walks toward the camera. He laughs, because it doesn’t even look real.

Except suddenly it is. Suddenly she’s climbing through the screen, doing things he’s never seen a contortionist do, and heading straight for him. He scrambles over the couch and runs for his room, the girl close behind. He closes and locks the door, searching for his walkie. When he finds it, he depresses the button and yells, “Code red! I repeat, code red! Can anyone hear me?”

Only static greets him when he lets go of the button. His hand begins to shake.

“Code red,” he says again, quieter this time. “Please help, someone, please- it’s a code red, I’m serious!”

She rattles his doorknob, long fingers sneaking under his door, reaching and growing until they can almost reach the lock.

“Hello?” Someone calls out from inside the trailer.

Steve.

“Oh, holy shit-” he can hear Steve scramble back. “Eddie? Are you okay?”

“Uh,” Eddie says, “I’m alive?”

The fingers stop growing. In the blink of an eye, they’re gone. The girl hisses, and Steve whispers out another curse.

Eddie tiptoes to his door amid the sound of fighting. When everything goes quiet, he opens his door.

He can’t see anything at first. He silently walks out of his room, looking around, freezing at the sight of Steve on the ground, eyes open, mouth agape, and the girl crouching over him.

She’s hissing at Eddie, but he can’t even care about that right now, because Steve is looking directly at him, and he knows what it looks like when someone’s dead, and he-

Steve-

Eddie swallows bile, drops to his knees. “Steve?”

He never got the chance to say anything.

Only had one day to enjoy holding him.

He could’ve had longer, if he’d said something before now, if he’d made a move-

Or if not, at least Steve wouldn’t be here, dead-

He swallows a sob. The girl turns to him, still hissing, and slowly advances.

He closes his eyes. Waits for the inevitable. Sends a silent apology to his uncle.

Except… nothing happens.

He blinks his eyes open carefully, confused when he’s in his dark room. He sits up, looking around, grateful the moon is bright enough to light up his room enough for him to see.

He creeps out of bed, carefully opens his door, and looks around.

His eyes catch on the place he’d seen Steve dead, and it’s a dream, he knows it was, but he still feels-

He dials. Tries to keep breathing as the phone rings. “‘Lo?”

“Steve?”

“Eddie.” A yawn. “You alright, man?”

“Uh,” Eddie says, looking for the right words, but apparently Steve speaks Eddie.

“Am I going over there or are you coming over here?”

“N-no, you- you don’t have to-”

“Eddie. I don’t have to do anything. I’m doing this because I want to. Are you gonna be okay for fifteen minutes?”

“Define okay,” Eddie says, still unsure what words mean. What he’s saying.

“Okay, that’s a no. Eddie, I need you to take a couple of deep breaths for me, okay? I’ll do it too. Ready? We’re gonna breathe in… in… in… now hold it, two, three, four, now out… slowly… out… and hold. Two, three, four. Twice more, okay?”

He guides Eddie through the exercise, pausing when they finish. “How’re you feeling now?”

“Better,” Eddie agrees, sighing. “I’m sorry, man, you really don’t have to come over.”

Steve scoffs. “Unlock the door, Eddie, I’ll be there in fifteen, alright?”

“M’kay,” Eddie murmurs.

“Okay. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Steve ends the call, and Eddie blinks as he puts the phone back on the hook. He moves to unlock the door then sits on the couch. He doesn’t look at the TV, doesn’t look at the spot on the floor where Steve-

He flinches, a full-body shudder, when the door opens. “Eddie?” Steve asks, locking eyes with him. “Hey, man, everything okay?”

He’s alive. He’s breathing, he’s moving, he’s-

Eddie reaches out for him, face shuddering, and Steve’s quick to respond, crossing the room in three long steps and throwing himself onto the couch next to Eddie, pulling him into a hug, and Eddie can breathe again.

“Fuck,” he mutters into Steve’s neck.

“Bad one, huh?”

He holds Steve tighter. “Dreamed… code red. No one answered. You- you came.” He swallows. “I saw-” he shakes his head, buries his face into Steve’s neck. “I know what it looks like when someone dies,” he whispers.

Steve stiffens, then relaxes and pulls Eddie even closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“I keep- seeing, you-”

“Hey.” Steve grabs his neck, makes him look at his face. “I’m right here, okay? Im right here. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both here, and we’re both alive.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, puts it on his chest, over his heart. “Feel that? Feel my heartbeat?”

Eddie looks down at his hand. Feels the rising and falling of his chest from breathing. Feels the steady thump-thump of his heart. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“I’m right here,” Steve promises, also whispering.

Eddie lets out a shaky sigh and rests his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

Steve rubs his back for a few minutes, then pulls back a little to ask, “Wanna try and go back to bed?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Okay. How about TV?”

“No.” His fingers clench, digging into Steve’s chest, and Steve’s hand comes up to cover his, to smooth it back out, to calm him down.

“That’s okay. How about we get something to drink?”

Eddie sighs, takes one deep breath, lets it out. “I’m a shit host,” he jokes. “You want somethin’?”

“I was thinking tea for you,” Steve replies, smile evident in his voice. “How about it? A nice cuppa?”

Eddie snorts and pulls away. “Alright then, mate,” he jokes, affecting a British accent, then back to his normal voice. “Long as you’ll join me.”

“Always,” Steve promises, and the monster growls.

Steve makes the tea. He won’t let Eddie help, but doesn’t oppose to him sitting on the counter and watching.

After they’re finished, Eddie dumps the mugs in the sink with a mental promise to get to them tomorrow. “Okay,” he says around a yawn, “your tea worked. I’m tired.”

Steve smiles. “Bed?”

“Bed,” Eddie agrees, pushing the monster in his chest down and taping its mouth shut. He only hesitates a little when he sees his bed, but climbs in anyways, holding the covers up for Steve.

They get settled, and before he knows it, Eddie’s drifting off.

He wakes up to sunlight on his face. He groans and rolls over, snorting and pushing back when he runs into Steve, who had already been awake. “Morning,” Steve offers.

Eddie plops his head back down and resolutely shuts his eyes.

“Or not,” Steve agrees, amused.

He’s about to speak, to wake up more, when Steve shifts and puts a hand in his hair.

He melts.

He thinks his brain might be melting out of his ears, all his thoughts leaking with it, because suddenly his head is blissfully blank.

He falls asleep again.

He wakes up as Steve settles back in bed next to him, glancing up with bleary eyes. He’s got a steaming mug in one hand, glancing down at Eddie with a smile. “Morning?”

Eddie hums out something that isn’t a word in any language. He blinks, long and slow, but he’s up. He tilts his head away from the pillow to speak. “Wha’s-” he squints at the mug. “Coffee?”

Steve smiles, grabs a second mug from the nightstand, hands it over. “Enough sugar to knock out the Duracell bunny,” he teases, and Eddie’s hard pressed not to blurt out a love confession right here and now.

Except… why not, he thinks. He promised Robin he would. And sure, it doesn’t have to be right this second, but… when else would he do it? He knows himself, he’d just chicken out.

He sits up, accepts the mug. Hums at the sweet taste. Gulps down half of it in the hopes of it waking him up faster.

Steve snorts. “You’re not gonna run out, Eds, there’s more in the pot and we can always make more.”

Eddie smiles sheepishly at Steve. “‘M tryin’a wake up faster.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “You don’t have to be up just because I am, dude.”

Eddie shakes his head, leans against the wall. Can’t look at Steve when he says, “No, I, uh. Actually wanted to talk to you?”

He can see, in his periphery, Steve turning to look at him. “About what?”

He works his lip, takes another sip. “About…” he sighs. “About what we’re doing. About how I don’t think we should.” He ducks his head. “I- I know you don’t feel the same, and it’s fine, I swear, I can get over myself. But I can’t if we keep doing this. ‘Cause I’m, like… stupidly gone on you, man. And I can’t- I can’t keep doing this.” He shuts his eyes. “I could, I could make myself, I could try to tune it out, I could- I could break my own heart. Which is exactly why I can’t.” He doesn’t know when his voice lowered into a whisper, but it did, and the last word comes out scared and breathy.

Steve takes a shaky breath. “You… like me?”

Eddie breathes in. Breathes out. Nods.

Steve swallows audibly, turns to face him. “How?”

He’s whispering, too, and Eddie looks up at him. Looks into honey-brown eyes, full of muted hope. “How do I like you?” Steve nods, and Eddie blows out a breath. “I like you… in the way I always want to make you laugh. In the way I want to always be there for you when you’re sad, or scared, or need help. In the way I want to know every piece of you so well I know how you’re feeling before you do. I want to make you dinner, and pull you close on the couch when we’re watching a movie, and wake up every morning to your face. I want to take you to Enzo’s and play footsie under the table with you until we’re both laughing way too hard and the waitress is staring at us because she just wants us to order. I want to scream it from the rooftops, even though I know I can’t. I want to hold your hand and run my fingers through your hair.”

“You want to keep me,” Steve whispers.

Eddie nods slowly. “Yeah. I want to keep you. I want you to be mine the way I’ve been yours.”

“I am yours,” Steve murmurs. “I want you to keep me.” He watches Eddie for a second. “You want to kiss me?”

Edie looks up at him. Slowly nods.

“Then do it,” Steve whispers in a hiss, and Eddie does.

And he does thoroughly.

“Mine,” he whispers against Steve’s lips.

Steve pulls back, takes his mug, puts it on the nightstand with his own. Turns back to Eddie, grabs his hand, lays his head on Eddie’s chest. “Yours,” he whispers, smiling when Eddie puts his other hand in his hair.

They don’t fall asleep. It’s a close thing, but they don’t have time before Steve has to get up for work.

He hesitates in the doorway. “Tonight,” he murmurs, then falls silent.

Eddie smiles at him. “Come over?”

Steve brightens, nods. The monster in Eddie’s chest purrs, satisfied.

[cherrychilli]

18+

AFAB reader, cockwarming

A/N: A thought just worked its way into my mind like a hungry raccoon rustling through a trash can. I wrote this out in a hurry and I don't know what triggered this but here you go. Hope you enjoy this lil blurb.

Thinking of Steve who wants a new picture of the two of you together to keep in his wallet and your heart warms at the suggestion, immediately heading off to grab your polaroid camera. When you return you find him seated on your bed, beckoning you to come sit in his lap. You hand him the camera because his arms are longer than yours, cozying up close to him for the picture with your hair tickling his jaw and your face tucked by his neck. He aims the camera towards your faces in his outstretched arm, snapping the picture. You both watch it develop, a cute snapshot of the two of you, all smiles and sunny faces.

"What do you think? good enough to replace the old one?", you fan yourself with the picture, watching him mull over your question. "It's great but I think we can do better", he hints slowly with a glint in his eye. You squint your eyes at him in a quiet warning, pretty certain of what he has in mind. "Stevie, you're not keeping a picture of my tits in your wallet. Especially not after what almost happened last time", you remind him flatly. He laughs sheepishly at the memory.

A month back, Eddie Munson had swiftly picked Steve's wallet out of his back pocket with the intention of feeding one of the latter's dollar bills into the vending machine in exchange for bag of Lay's. Steve only mustered a half hearted grumble in response before remembering the picture of you he kept in his wallet. Technically, you were clothed in the photo but what made it strictly for Steve's eyes only was that the little white strappy tank top you were dressed in was completely soaked, your tits showing through the translucent fabric clearly.

He had several questions aimed his way when he swatted the umber wallet out of Eddie's ringed fingers just a second before the darker haired boy had a chance to flip the folded leather open. Chiefly 'What the fuck, Harrington?', but Steve ignored them all in favor of collecting his wallet off the ground before pulling out a five and holding it out to Eddie in recompense. Walking away with four bags more than he would have afforded with the single dollar, Eddie didn't press any further for answers and the instance was considered forgotten. At least to him.

"No, I wasn't going to suggest that", Steve assured you. "But if I'm being completely honest, I do miss having one of your secret pictures", he confessed, fingers dancing along your thigh. You scoff lightly, rolling your eyes at him. "Steve, you have plenty in that box under your bed. I'd know, I'm the one who gave them to you".

He shakes his head. "What I mean is that I miss having one with me. You know? being able to look at it whenever I want and where ever I am".

"Oh...", you soften. Besides the close call with Eddie, you did like knowing how much your naughty snapshot had excited Steve, especially when you saw the way he glanced at it whenever he opened up his wallet to treat you.

"So I was thinking...what if we took one that looked innocent? one that only you and I really know about?", he suggested with a hopeful gaze.

Your face scrunched, unsure of how a picture like that might be taken. "How?"

"Fuck fuck fuck", you chanted under your breath, knees feeling wobbly. "Almost there angel, you're doing so good", Steve kissed along your neck, breath fanning over your heated skin. His cock was a little more than half way inside you, stretching you open as you carefully sunk down until you reached his base. His fingers are still wet from scissoring inside you, smearing your waist with traces of your arousal as he curls the digits there under your dress. "Fuck, you feel amazing. You realize how hot this is?". You did. The way you're soaking his dick is evidence of that.

Seated in his lap with his cock sheathed completely inside you now, your head spun. Both from the fullness and the thought of no one else but the two of you knowing the truth about the picture you're about to take. Your dress conceals where you're both joined, your skirt spread out to further cover where Steve's jeans and boxers are pulled down around his mid thighs. He waits for your breath to steady before he picks up the camera, chin resting on your shoulder. "Ready, baby?", he coos gently, fingers rubbing soothingly at your waist. You swallow back a whimper when you feel him twitch inside you. "Yeah", you finally utter. "I'm ready".

"That's my good girl", he raises the camera once more, aiming it at your faces as you muster up a smile to match the one in your first picture.

"Just sit there and keep looking pretty for me"

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Taking me higher

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 1

Prompts: mile high club & service dom

Rated: E

Words: 1,232

Tags: Dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie; Fear of flying; Airplane sex; Semi-public sex

Before today, if anyone had asked Eddie what hell looked like, the answer would've come easy. Hell was a blood red sky, parched earth covered in vines, and monstrous creatures with flower-shaped maws prowling the decaying landscape. Obvious, right?

Wrong. 

Hell is a two-hundred-ton sardine can, shooting through the sky at five-hundred miles an hour, the ocean stretching forty-thousand feet below. No, scratch that, thirty-nine-thousand-nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine feet, because the goddamn thing just hit another air hole. 

“Eddie?” 

Next to him, Steve stirs. He looks infuriatingly at ease with his sleep mask pushed up into his hair and his neck pillow and the little fleece blanket with the airline’s logo on it. When he takes in the way Eddie’s fingers are white-knuckling their shared armrest, his brow furrows in concern. 

“Hey, everything okay?” 

“Fine,” Eddie grits out. “Peachy, don't you worry about- shit, what was that?” 

“Turbulences,” Steve shrugs. Like it's fine. Like it's not a big deal. Like they aren't locked in a steel and glass deathtrap moving faster and higher than anything has a right to. “It’s okay, they haven't even switched on the seatbelt signs.” 

“Okay, great,” Eddie babbles. “Perfect, I just- … shit, I didn't think it'd rattle so fucking much.”

“It gets a bit bumpy sometimes,” Steve's hand finds his, prying Eddie’s fingers from the armrest, ghosting soothing touches over his knuckles. “Just relax. Think of them as potholes.” 

“Potholes, right,” Eddie mumbles. “Brilliant comparison, Stevie, so helpful. You know what, if the potholes weren't ten fucking miles deep, that might actually-” 

“Baby.” 

Eddie barrels to a stop. For a second, he's convinced he must've heard wrong, because why would Steve call him that now? Steve only ever calls him that when they're playing, and there's no way-

“You with me, baby?” 

Steve’s voice has dropped to a low rumble, and fuck, all the training they've done must've finally stuck, because the answer is out before he even knows it. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Steve smiles, slow and pleased. His hand shifts to Eddie’s upper thigh. “There's my good boy.” 

And yeah, the training clearly stuck way better than Eddie is comfortable admitting, because the words go straight to his dick. Steve’s hand moves, brushing the shape of him through the fabric of his pants. Eddie gasps and squirms, and that smile goes smug. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Eddie hisses. He cranes his neck, casting frantic glances at the other passengers, but most of them are asleep in their seats. At the far end of the aisle, two stewardesses are talking and giggling at each other in hushed voices. 

“Shhhh,” Steve says. He cups Eddie’s cock in his palm, a firm and solid pressure. “They haven't noticed. You don't want that to change, do you?” 

“I- … no,” Eddie stammers. Steve’s grip tightens. “I mean … no, sir.” 

“That's what I thought,” Steve smiles, giving the bulge in his pants a good-natured pat. Eddie whines and rolls his hips in his seat, greedy for more friction, more pressure. Steve removes his hand. 

“Oh, come on,” Eddie groans. The lady in front of him grunts and stirs in her sleep. Eddie bites down on his own tongue.

“Now, here's what we're gonna do,” Steve says, lips tickling the shell of his ear, voice trickling down his spine like honey. “You're gonna go into the bathroom and get yourself ready for me. We'll need to be quick about it, so I'll give you … let's say three minutes before I join you.” 

“Wha-” Eddie wheezes. “You wanna-… Is there even room?” 

Steve chuckles. “Oh, we'll manage. I’ll just need to fuck you against the wall, nice and tight, huh?” 

Eddie gawks at him. Steve raises an eyebrow and checks his watch. “I’d hurry, if I were you. Your three minutes start now.” 

*

The bathroom is ridiculously tiny. For some reason, the movements of the plane are even more noticeable here, but Eddie doesn’t have time to dwell on that. Stumbling in on jelly-like legs, he pats his pockets until he finds what he’s been hoping for - a lonely, small package of lube. Ripping it open with his teeth, he yanks his pants down all the way to his ankles. When a few, awkward twists and turns reveal that this won’t do, he chucks off his right shoe and steps out of the pant leg entirely, propping one sock-clad foot up on the toilet bowl. 

He has hardly started preparing himself when the door opens behind him. For a panicked second, he’s afraid it’s a random passenger out for a midnight piss, now faced with the sight of him, two fingers knuckle-deep up his own ass. But it’s Steve. 

“Oh baby, look at you,” he whispers. Eddie hears the door lock, and then one large, strong hand caresses his hip. “So desperate for me? Tell me how bad you need it.”

Steve’s hand is casual and possessive as he cups his ass, the touch of a man taking what’s his. It makes Eddie feel owned in the best possible way. A prized possession, looked after and taken care of. 

“Need it so bad,” he whines, bucking back into the touch, knowing exactly what it is that Steve wants to hear. “So desperate for your cock sir, please-” 

He can’t turn, not crammed together in the tiny space as they are, but he hears how Steve’s belt and zipper come undone. That large, hard cock slaps free, hitting his ass with an obscene sound. 

“My poor, greedy boy,” Steve coos. “Asking for it so nicely. Of course you can have my cock, baby.” 

And then, without further preamble, he pushes in, all the way to the base. He sets a quick, relentless rhythm, not bothering to ease them into it slowly, and Eddie has to grip the toilet bowl with both hands or topple. It feels like his head being filled with fuzzy cotton. It feels the ground dropping out from under him, leaving him floating on clouds, but this time, it has nothing to do with the stupid plane.

It doesn’t take long. After a few hard thrusts, Steve moans and comes, hands digging into Eddie’s hips hard enough to bruise as he spills deep inside of him. Eddie is only seconds behind him, spilling his own release all over the toilet, and Steve shoves his fingers inside his mouth to muffle his scream.

*

“You good, baby?”

Eddie blinks back into reality. The ground and the walls are still rattling, but it doesn’t bother him as much, now that all of his bones have been replaced with warm jelly. Steve has pulled him out of his bent-over position and up against his chest, tucked his neck into the crook of his shoulder, and is peppering kisses over the side of his face and into his hairline. 

“Perfect,” Eddie slurs. “Thank you, sir. Could stay like this forever.” 

Steve laughs softly. “As much as I’d like to, I think we need to get back to our seats.” 

“Aw no,” Eddie pouts. “I thought everyone was asleep. Can’t we just-”

“You’re insatiable, huh?” Steve smacks a firm kiss to his cheek as he disentangles their shaky limbs, pressing a stack of paper towels into his hand as he goes. “C’mon now, be a good boy and clean yourself up. If you make it back in three minutes, I’ll consider doing this again. There’s always a return flight, y’know?” ✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

More smutty September

[munsster]

hold my hand through it

A/N: oh, nothing just thinking about being taken care of by a lovely boy :( (gif creds: @keery)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

Summary: Even if there ends up being someone else to turn to, he hopes you always pick him. Especially now, battered and sore and desperate. 1.8k words.

Warnings: season 4 canon divergence, canon level gore, (secret) mutual pining, a hint of best friends to.... lovers?, hurt/comfort, pet names (sunshine, honey, baby), wound/scar description

The clench of your jaw and the way you slump into the dusty cushions of the Wheeler's old couch is telltale. Steve's side aches when your hand curls over your own ribs, the fabric of your band tee wet and sticky beneath your fingers. Nancy, Robin, and Eddie filter through the thickly fogged rooms, waving their flashlights up the steps and walls in slow circles. He watches the ashen air fill your lungs, the realization splintering your face, and you'd scramble to the bathroom if you could get up.

You glance up to find he's watching you.

"Steve?" you squeak. And tears spill over the rims of your eyes, down your cheeks, wetting the corner of your mouth and the column of your throat.

"Woah, woah," he huffs, skidding to his knees at your feet and winding his fingers around your wobbly wrist, uncertainty making you ache and hyperventilate even with his soft brown eyes honeyed over the blood like antibiotic. "Hey, eyes on me, sunshine, look at me."

But you're flickering between your soaked shirt and the delicate slope of his nose, between your scrape and the forgiveness he harbors in his slumped shoulders.

"There you go," he says, "can I...?"

You nod. Lifting your arms, it hurts. Like the skin was trying to heal just to be stretched apart again. You hiss, and he cradles your wrist back down.

"Ooh, careful, honey, don't push yourself. You've been hurt enough for one night."

"Is it bad? Steve," you cry, and he looks up to find your chin wobbling. It breaks his heart. "Steve, please, is it bad?"

"No. No, honey. It's alright." But the panic sets in around your eyes, wrinkling your forehead as blood trickles across your knuckle.

"How bad is it? Fffuck, it's bad, isn't it?" There's a maroon pool, slipping through the hardwood cracks beneath the tangle of your fingers and his.

"No, c'mon, you're fine. You're good," he huffs. Your eyes slink closed out of exhaustion or fear or the fact that it's so easy. "Baby, keep your eyes open, please. I'll go find a first aid kit. Promise me you'll keep 'em open 'till I'm back."

You frown, and his heart races. You were supposed to be the one to make it out. Back to reality. You were supposed to be his forever in the real world. Not just in this fucked up, pitch black underworld. Someone must be playing a trick on him. He's gonna wake up tomorrow to the sun hot on his face and you smiling sweetly back at him, fingers combing through his hair. He blinks hard just in case.

When he opens them, you're nodding.

"I promise." It sounds so weak dribbling from your cracked lips. Steve wipes the dirt from your jaw before darting to the lower level bathroom.

He roots desperately through the cabinets, sweat pricking across the back of his neck and his forehead and his scalp and his cheeks. God, he needs a shower and to make you better and to be home safe in his bed. With you.

You take a shaky, deep breath when he reappears with a dull, blue box under his arm. He sits beside you, wincing at the constricted noise that escapes your scratchy throat.

"What've we got... gauze, yes. Bandages, yes. Antiseptic, fuck yeah. We're in business, baby. Still with me?"

You nod weakly, hissing when he lifts your wrist into his lap. He watches your face as he rips the antiseptic wipes open.

"Gonna hurt, okay?"

A strangled sound escapes you and your head lulls onto his shoulder.

"Okay, sunshine. So proud of you, doin' great," he hums, pressing his dry lips to your damp temple. You grab for the hem of his sweater when he pats the blood from your gash. He can tell you're struggling to stay quiet, muscles tense and fingers wringing. You're tightly wound, and yet, you can feel yourself losing control.

Or maybe it's more like surrender. Relinquishment of your responsibility over your own blood. And you only do it because it's so easy to let him command it. Especially when he's so gentle in cleaning your wounds, why shouldn't you share your hurt if he's so willing to bear it.

His fingers spread neosporin over the cut, which is suddenly clean and only a little irritated. You can't help but watch him, so focused on packing the cotton and tightly sealing the wound with gauze.

"Alright?" Steve hums, and god, those brown eyes deserve their own gallery. He waits for an answer, but you're distracted and pouting at the thought of him putting your hurt before his own. Everyone has scrapes and cuts and soreness from climbing and running and falling. You saw it in his limp. And yet, he looked to you and didn't hesitate to kneel beside you and tend to your open wound. "Sunshine?"

"Yeah," you sigh, more sure than before, "feels better."

"Yeah?" he chuckles, "Feels better? That's good. I'm glad." He sighs, trying not to anticipate your reaction to the next step. He knows it's going to hurt. "Let's get you changed, okay?"

You bat your lashes up at him. That's what he was worried about. You're gonna do it, but it hurts his conscience to know how much pain the process will put you through. He stands from the couch, whipping off his sweater and shivering a little at the hellish chill.

Usually, you'd made a joke about his promiscuity. Something or other about him taking it all off. Maybe a catcall or two. He honestly misses it. The silence is deafening.

"Lift your arms."

You do, wincing and grating your teeth.

"Slowly. There you go." Once your arms are sufficiently above your head, he tugs at the soaked hem of your tee. He feels bad for cringing at the state of your side: sticky and dark red, a chunk of skin missing. Thankfully, it’s not too deep, but it still makes his heart clench.

He can’t bring himself to look in your eyes, knowing the strain and suffering he’ll find. Doe-wide and pleading as he tosses your shirt aside.

“Definitely won’t be needing that anymore,” he teases, looking at the bundled up pile of blood and cotton.

“Too bad,” you shudder, “that was my favorite.”

He grins.

With your arms still above your head, he carefully fits the rest of the gauze around your ribcage, cleaning the excess grime built up around the gash. He can tell you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as he pulls your hands through the sleeves of his damn yellow sweater. You always said it reminded you of a fuzzy bumble bee, a lingering title that he bore proudly.

He thinks you look so beautiful. Even now, streaked with dirt and ozzing blood. He thinks he'll never get used to your lazy smile and how you reach for his hand even when it hurts. His heart skips a beat feeling the warmth flood back into your fingers. "Careful, baby. Don't hurt yourself."

"Okay, Stevie," you whisper. You still have plenty of wounds that need tending to, but you're glad Steve was there for you. "Thank you."

He nods like it's all second nature. Shrugs it off like he didn't just save your life.

"Know what I'm looking forward to?" Steve says. It cuts through the fog suddenly. A welcome breath of fresh air in a conversation. "French toast."

You laugh, but stop short at the pinch of your ribs.

"Shit. Didn't mean to make you laugh. Well, I mean I did, just didn't intend for it to hurt," he says, looking a little guilty. Then, he looks over at you and his stomach drops. "Honey—"

"Sorry"—you choke a little, tears pouring hot down your cheeks, leaving clean streaks through the sheen of grime—"Sorry, I don't know why I'm crying."

"It's okay, you can cry. C'mere," he hums, resting your head back on his shoulder. He catches a tear from your cheek on his knuckle, wiping it on his collar then pushing the hair from your face.

"I'm just," you sigh. "I think I'm overwhelmed. And in pain. Obviously."

He smiles, sympathy tugging at his heartstrings when you inhale sharply.

"I know." It's mumbled against your forehead, his eyes closed and his voice hushed.

...

Eight months and a couple stitches later, the scar tissue on your forearm glistens gossamer in the sunlight as you face the push-door to the Hawkins gym. There’s a low roar coming from inside; the squeaking of shoes and blaring brass section welcomes you back. Steve had asked you to be his date to Lucas’ last game of the season. You couldn’t refuse.

Steve spots you as soon as you enter, his caramel hair sweeping soft across his forehead. Free of all the sweat and blood and weight it had that twisted spring evening. Seeing you again makes his heart soar. Knowing for a fact you’re safe and healthy. It makes him sweeter on you than he’d like to admit.

You climb the bleachers to the spot he has saved next to him. He kisses your cheek, which surprises you.

“I thought we weren’t kissing in public, yet,” you whisper. Yet, he remembers. He had agreed to that, he supposes. Only after you’d both hastily shared one outside your door one night and decided it would be best to share the rest of them where the kids couldn’t tease you incessantly. He scrunches his nose, shoving his nervous hands into his jean pockets.

“Well, you still owe me a certain yellow sweater’s worth of kisses,” he teases, “Besides, I don’t think anyone noticed.” You scowl playfully up at him, nudging his side.

“I told you you could have it back!”

“Nah. Looks better on you anyway.” He shrugs. He wouldn’t take it back if it came with a million dollars cash. It’s rightfully yours. “You know what I could go for right now?”

You tilt your head in amusement. “French toast?”

“You know me so well.”

stranger things masterlist

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 17

part 1 | part 16 | ao3

Heat rolls through Steve’s gut; low and quick, a vicious flare, and then he coughs and looks away. “Jesus, man," he splutters, "learn to take a joke.”

“Mmm-hm.” Eddie's smug smirk spreads wide, grows teeth; gotcha bitch, and Steve’s about to tell him to fuck off when he claps his hands to his thighs and abruptly stands up. Does a big stretch, swinging his arms out side to side, reaching overhead until his back makes a noise like a twisted sheet of bubble wrap.

“Holy shit!” Steve frowns. “You’re gonna break your spine.”

Eddie gives him a flippant smile. “That's the idea. Anyway...” He pretzels himself up again, groaning as his neck and shoulders pop. “Seeing as we’re trapped in here for the foreseeable future, you wanna do what the little psychos asked? Play twenty questions or have a heart-to-heart or whatever?”

“Seriously? And just give them what they want?”

Eddie shrugs. “Seems like the fastest way out of here, so yeah.”

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Please. You negotiate with them all the time." He folds forward at the hips, looking at Steve upside down between his legs, and twists a curl around his pinky. "Those kids have you wrapped around their grubby little fingers."

"They do not!"

"They totally do. Besides," he swings back upright, "I’ll negotiate with anyone if it gets me back home to my girl.”

"Oh." Steve stumbles at that. "Didn't know you had a girlfriend.”

Eddie laughs big and bright, shaking his hair all over the place. “Yeah, Harrington, I have a girlfriend. You're funny. Y'know, Henderson could have saved us a lot of time here if he'd just told me you were fun—”

“Okay, then who’s your girl?” Steve interrupts with a huff, because Eddie’s just hopping around in circles while he laughs like Steve's a fucking moron for making a totally reasonable assumption, and he doesn't understand what's so goddamn funny about it.

“My girl, Harrington,” he all but coos when he collects himself, “is my guitar.” He bites his lip and mimes playing a riff; Steve doesn’t know shit about guitar, but he knows that Eddie’s fingers are quick, nimble and impressive as they jitter through the air. “We’ve got a show this weekend. Like, a real one this time, not just playing to three drunks at the Hideout.”

“Cool,” Steve says, looking away from his rings. “Congrats, man. You any good?”

“You could say that.” Eddie’s mouth goes smug and pleased, genuine pride shining in his big eyes when he rocks back on his heels. “The frat that booked us seems to think so, anyway.”

“Oh, shit!" Now Steve's impressed, because it's the weekend before Halloween, and that means, "College costume party.”

“Of course you’d be excited about that.”

“Hey, great place to get laid,” Steve shrugs.

Eddie chokes on his own spit. “You’re kind of a slut, you know that?”

“Rude,” Steve says mildly. He's not a slut; he's an opportunist.

The ground's starting to hurt his ass, so he stands up to join Eddie's impromptu yoga session. Eddie leans a hip against the workbench, folding his arms over his chest and giving Steve room to move.

His eyes flit to his hemline when it rides up on a stretch. "Would you..." he clears his throat. "Would you want to come?"

"Huh?" Steve twists around.

"To the show," Eddie adds, ducking his head to hide his face behind his hair. "You'd have to cram into the back with Frankie and the drum kit, but uh..."

Steve lets himself picture it for a moment, some alternate dimension where he's allowed to say yes: the winding highway to Indy, a van full of dudes cracking jokes and fighting over who gets to pick the music next, losing himself in the thrum of a crowd while he drinks and dances and watches Eddie on stage.

His throat feels tight, suddenly. He reaches for the flask and takes another sip of whiskey. "Don't all your bandmates hate me?"

"I mean... not any more than I do." Eddie's answer is quiet, his eyes swimming with candlelight; Steve doesn't know when they moved closer, when a hush settled over the room, but it feels like...

"Yeah?" he hedges, his voice barely above a whisper. Then he steps out onto the ledge; icy cliffside, slippery holds. The mountains are so much scarier than the deep sea. "And how... How much is that?"

His pulse kicks in his chest. Echoes down to his wrist, a nervous current beneath his skin. Eddie's eyes are so soft. Big and brown and dark. Dark like the deep woods; endless; sort of mesmerizing.

"Steve, I—"

The cellar doors shriek on their hinges.

—

part 18

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[loveinhawkins]

Hi! hope you feel better soon! And hope you get some much needed rest in the meantime! For the one word prompt: post S4 Steddie, “hazy”.

thank you so much & thank you for inspiring a little moment about rest & healing 💕 •one word ficlet prompts

Steve finds that the couch next to Eddie’s hospital bed is ridiculously comfortable.

Eddie’s talking to the nurse—he can’t really catch what’s being said, the world growing warm and hazy—but he can hear that Eddie’s making her laugh. Knows that’s important, something that would’ve been unthinkable not so long ago: that Eddie feels brave enough to let something of himself shine through. That he can still trust in the kindness of certain people, even strangers.

Steve vaguely hears the nurse leave, glances over to see Eddie within touching distance, perched on the side of his bed. He’s folding some T-shirts in preparation for getting discharged—he’d joked when Steve had first arrived that it’s the most organised he’s ever been.

He must’ve washed his hair this morning, left it to air dry: some of the ends are still damp, and it’s gone kinda wispy around his face. It’s a calming sight, leaves Steve grateful that he no longer associates it with the dive into Lover’s Lake; now it’s something softer.

Something safe.

Eddie looks up. Smiles.

“Uh, Steve, with all due respect,” he begins, which makes Steve snort; he’s come to know it as one of Eddie’s sayings, preceding all manner of teasing objections, “what the hell?”

Steve would usually ask, “What now?” in feigned exasperation, unable to hide his amusement—but his head feels suddenly heavy, and all he manages is, “Hmm?”

Eddie’s smile grows, showing his dimples. He reaches over, and he places a hand on Steve’s knee, presses down gently, “Are you, like, training to be a contortionist?”

Steve feels the warmth of the touch through his jeans; he realises then that he’s sitting awkwardly: one knee bent towards his chest; his neck crooked, arms folded; his whole body instinctively angled toward the edge of the couch.

It’s a position he’s perfected over the years, honed in all kinds of makeshift beds—most recently the chairs of hospital waiting rooms, leaving space for one of the kids to rest on his shoulder. Snatching rest wherever he could throughout the nightmare of that Spring Break, never quite relaxing fully: ready to move, to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

He remembers Robin tactfully making sure that the RV was empty while everyone else stayed outside; his side still aching, Steve stretched out on the seat in the back. Even while he was alone, he only managed a fitful doze—nearly fell off his seat as he wrenched himself awake at the slightest disturbance.

He can’t find that urgency now. Hasn’t needed to for…

He must have zoned out for a couple seconds, because Eddie’s standing now. Watching fondly.

“If you’re tired,” Eddie says quietly, “you should sleep.”

And Steve hears the shape of it, that deliberation in how Eddie says certain things, where he slows down just a little—and Steve knows it must be because it’s something Eddie’s once been told by his uncle.

There’s a blanket getting draped across him now. Eddie touches his knee again, and this time Steve relaxes fully, feels himself slowly tilt back. There’s a pillow beneath his head that wasn’t there before.

Eddie smoothes out the blanket with care. Steve’s view is getting dimmer, a drowsy blur of eyelashes.

But he can see that Eddie’s smiling again. Hears him make a soft, jokingly disapproving tsk.

“Close your eyes,” Eddie whispers, with such affection.

Oh, you love me, Steve thinks.

It’s a thought that drifts in, honeyed and slow, like it’s really been there all along—that perhaps before, in the white-knuckled days of survival, he was too afraid for it. Did not have room to feel it.

Steve’s eyes close.

He falls asleep so completely, knowing that Eddie will still be there, that time isn’t running out anymore; he can stay right where he is. He has room to breathe, to just be—room for the next thought, the next moment, for every moment to come.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve secretly reads Dracula and Anne Rice. He secretly likes vampires. Man. Woman. He thinks they're hot. Now imagine Eddie coming back as one, and Steve is just showing as much skin as possible to let him know he's available for biting. He stretches his neck out, dragging his fingers across his skin. He's literally doing anything to let him know he's available for biting. Steve literally circled the moles on his neck that look like vampire bites. Meanwhile, Eddie is struggling because he can smell his arousal and is trying to play hard to get with Steve. Finally, he storms into Robin's room, stressed.

"You said playing hard to get would be fun!" Eddie exclaimed. "This is NOT fun!"

"Oh, yeah, no. It's fun for me," Robin said casually as she popped a piece of candy in her mouth.

"Why did I come to you?!" Eddie asked.

"I don't know, why did you come to me?" Robin asked.

"You know, you're pretty relaxed around a vampire who has the power to kill you," Eddie said.

"Oh yeah. Do it. Kill me. I dare you," Robin said, staring him down, and when he collapsed on the floor, she smiled. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

It all gets resolved when Steve and Eddie get together. They do get back at her by giving her bad advice with Vickie, which Vickie later thought was funny. Robin did not.

[urhoneycombwitch]

#17 from that prompt list about seeing the marks left on their partner and getting turned on has got me all kinds of 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 It feels roommate-eddie coded 👀 especially if they have their no-marks rule, but he just kinda loses control one night.

Then we torture him, walking around showing it off, telling him he can’t touch until he learns some self-control…okay, I’m gonna see myself out…

(most assuredly not @rebelfell sending two asks in a row)

foreword: Sarah I’m being so fr how are you literally in my brain… I had a blurb on this very topic set on the back burner bc I couldn’t find a place for it so here it is spruced up!!! (prompt 17 from this list)

cw: Reader has breasts, visible marks, no skin tone/color mentioned, a wee bit of choking kink, not full smut but mdni as always. oh yeah and biting 😈

___

You can feel the weight of Eddie’s eyes on your form, even as you pretend to be oblivious, leaning into the reflection of the standing mirror in the corner of his bedroom.

A few swipes of your pointer finger and your lipgloss is perfect; with a smack of your lips, you straighten up again, tugging the hem of your tee down to meet the band of your jeans. “Almost ready?”

The friendly smile you turn to give Eddie is met with a glower, his dark brows slanted, a death-grip on both knees where he sits simmering on his bed.

“Did you come in here solely to torture me, or do you have other plans up your vixen sleeves?”

Briefly, your eyes flick to the ceiling as you turn back to your reflection, fussing with your hair to keep your hands busy. “Only plan I got is attending our beloved friend’s barbecue. Which we should’ve left for, like, five minutes ago.”

Eddie huffs. In response, you sigh, landing just-left of condescending. “Not my fault you want to fuck me regardless of what I’m wearing. It’s jeans and a t-shirt, Eddie, I’m basically fit for a nunnery-”

There’s a whoosh of spiced air that wafts over first, chills cascading down your spine made worse as Eddie moves in. His left hand lands on your hip, rooting you to the carpet, while the other tracks up, skirting between the valley of your clothed breasts, your collarbone, your neck…

He takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, silver rings biting cold against your skin as your neck goes lax, baring a long, tantalizing stretch of it as Eddie tilts your face up and to the side.

His lips press to the sweet spot behind your ear, then follows the slope of your neck down, stopping at your shirt’s collar that hides the rest of your skin. From your hip, his hand lifts to pull the fabric aside, revealing a scattered canvas of suck marks and teeth imprints that grace the top of your shoulder.

“You really gonna show up with these? Make all our friends wonder who’s been marking you up?”

Eddie’s voice is low, but you’d be a fool to mistake it for softness.

Another shiver licks along the length of your body, and this time Eddie feels it; he presses in closer, hand sliding from your chin to hold just under your jaw as he meets your fluttering eyes in the mirror.

“What’re you gonna say, hm? If Robin asks where they came from? If Steve makes a jock-y comment? If you get teased?”

It’s not like you haven’t been in this situation before- attending events with mutual friends, having to act like your roommate hasn’t been the one checking all your boxes, making up excuses for being late or looking like someone had been using your body as their personal chew toy.

You’ve always made excuses- pretty seamless ones, if anyone’s counting. You don’t even try to squirm away when you respond, swallowing around the light pressure at your throat- “I’ll tell them what I always do. Blind date hookup, one night stand, my dentist’s cousin’s friend that I’ll never see again-”

Eddie bites into the soft flesh of your upper shoulder, hard, free arm wrapping around your midsection like a seatbelt while his other elbow digs into your chest, hand still wrapped around the column of your throat.

The air leaves your lungs in a rush, white-hot adrenaline surging with the sting of the bite, body stiffening against the restraints of Eddie’s arms as you grit out, “Asshole!”

It sounds too whiny and pleasure-soaked to cause any real alarm, Eddie grinning into the curve of your skin (bastard) before tsking, kissing over the thumping mark in partial apology. “Mm. I think you like it. I think you get off on parading our little secret around the poor folks who don’t know any better-”

“As if you don’t.” Eddie may be the one doing most of the biting but you’ve got the bark to match, glaring furiously at the reflection of his maddeningly-cool black-caramel gaze, even as the pressure on your windpipe increases with a minute flex of his palm.

“Yeah. Y’got me there, princess.” His eyes flit across your exposed skin, like he’s trying to memorize all the shades and colors of you combined with the wreckage of his handiwork. “Maybe you should cover up some more. So it’s just you ‘n me who knows what’s under here.”

The cotton collar snaps back into place, covering almost all the evidence (save for the tail end of a day-old scraped hickey). Eddie releases your jaw and takes a step back, the warmth leaving your body all at once, frozen where you stand until sense returns.

You clear your throat before speaking, irritation prickling as you set to fixing your hair again from where Eddie’s interruption had stalled. “Whatever. Fine. But I’m only changing because it’s gonna be cold later, and a long sleeve will be better- not because you told me to.”

“Fine.” Eddie adopts a neutral tone as he settles back onto the mattress with a bounce, tugging absently at the inseam of his dark jeans to relieve some of the mounting tightness. “Have it your way.”

“I will,” you snap back, turning from the mirror on a socked heel, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy on the bed. “And you better have your boots on by the time I’m changed.”

With that, you flounce from Eddie’s room in search of a more conservative neckline, while Eddie pouts and pretends to have the will to disobey you for all of five seconds.

And then he’s up, trudging to the bureau reluctantly to source a pair of socks while scheming for the perfect excuse to take you both on the extra-long route to the barbecue.

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

“Fuck’s your problem, Hagan?”

Billy cocks his head to the side with disinterest, eyes glazed over and red as he transparently sizes Tommy up. Lets his eyes wrack up and down his figure like he always seems to do when he’s around. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

Tommy huffs and shoves his hands into the pockets of his letterman, glancing briefly over at Munson on the other side of the campfire. Lounging in the dirt with his hair strewn messily across Steve’s lap.

“Yeah,” Eddie lilts. Shifts restlessly, stretching out like a bored cat until a hand cards into his hair. “This is kind of a private kickback.”

What he says earns a chuckle from Billy, but Steve is stone-faced. Staring up at Tommy with an unreadable expression that makes his skin start to crawl.

Just a ways behind the trio, the waves lap softly at the gravelly shore. Otherwise out of sight in the inky black darkness just beyond the reach of the light from the fire.

Tommy shifts his weight on his feet. Stares back at Steve.

They both know how fucked up this is. Granted, maybe Steve doesn’t see it as the flagrant mockery that it is, but instead an instance of moving on.

Beside Steve, Billy leans close. Pressed right up against him, like he’s trying to assume Steve’s perspective. To see what he sees. Think what he thinks.

Steve simply sighs.

“No idea what his problem is,” he says.

Tommy clenches his fists.

“Lover’s Lake?” he hisses.

On the ground, Steve rolls his eyes. Shoves his shoulder into Billy’s and stays leaned against him.

“He’s mad ‘cause this used to be our spot,” Steve murmurs.

This gets a rise out of Billy, who whistles as he loops an arm around Steve’s neck. Not yet connecting the full picture.

“Jealous, freckles?”

“Oh, he is,” Eddie chortles.

The two share a giggle, meanwhile Steve holds his stare.

There are words sitting on the air. Heavy and dark, billowing like the smoke between them. Steve was never very good at playing nice once he got a few puffs in.

Being under the influence makes him a real bitch.

“You should leave,” Steve says.

Plain and simple. The other two quiet down enough to turn their listening ears on, both looking up at Tommy with amusement, and it makes his skin burn with anger at the lack of understanding.

Tommy nods at Hargrove.

“I get him,” he says. Then gestures to Munson. “But this is a new low for you, isn’t it? I mean, you only keep him around for the free weed, right? That’s cold, even for you.”

Steve glares, removing his hand from Eddie’s hair and smoothing it down to rest over his collarbone.

“Funny,” Steve lilts.

“Shouldn’t you just take him about back and put him down? It’d be decent of you.”

“Oh, like I put you down?”

Tommy chuckles. Leans forward ever so slightly. Lowers his voice.

“Dead dogs don’t come crawling back.”

There’s nothing but the crackling from the fire and the distant sounds of the shore for a moment. Two moments.

Steve’s expression softens.

“Go home, Tommy.”

Now, there are no giggles, no smiles. Munson has a vacant look in his eye, and Billy braces himself to stand up. Ever ready to enforce Steve’s will at the drop of a hat.

Understanding.

Tommy holds his palms up in mock surrender, stepping back and spreading a smirk.

“I’ll go. Seems like you have loads to talk about.”

He can feel the burn of Steve’s glare on the back of his head after he turns to walk away, retreating into the darkness of the treeline.

Even after getting the last word, he knows that nothing he can say will cause enough upset to restore things to how they were. Can never subvert Steve enough to sow genuine disdain.

There are murmurs around the fire, soft-spoken words and kisses shared in the warmth. Gentle caresses and reassurances. Explanations.

They are a king, his knight, and his jester. Held up, safe and cozy within the sturdy walls of a castle, after all.

And Tommy is cold. Shivering as he treks back to his truck parked out by the road, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes misty with bitterness.

Knowing he never had a place at all.

-

Loosely inspired by this post by @plistommy :0)