#steddiebingo

[lady-lostmind]

TROUBLE

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Jealousy

Rating: T | WC: 1195 

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

Eddie is ripping his way through a solo at practice, trying to nail the transition between the solo and chorus. He groans in frustration when he misses the same note he has the last three run throughs. “Fuck.”

Gareth tosses his drumstick at him and thumps his bass pedal. “Eddie, come on, man. We’ve been at this for like an hour already.”

Eddie scoffs. “It’s been like twenty minutes, Gare.” He snatches Gareth’s stick up off the ground and throws it back. “Go from the top of the verse again.”

Gareth and the rest of the guys groan and roll their eyes as Gareth counts them in. Eddie focuses hard on making his fingers move the way they need to, nailing the parts of the song he already has down, gets mostly through the solo and– misses the same note. 

“GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!” 

Jeff sighs. “Maybe we should table this one for–”

Eddie shakes his head. “No! I’ve almost got it. Just– From the verse again.” 

The guys eye him wearily but start again. Eddie’s sure he’s going to nail it this time. He just has to figure out what he keeps snagging on and he’ll be good. He can do this, he– misses the same damn note again! “FUCKING HELL!” 

Gareth groans behind his drums. “EDDIE! What the hell, man?” 

Doug takes his bass off and goes to head inside. “I need a fucking break, dude.” 

Eddie throws his hands up in defeat. “Great. We just got started!” 

Jeff sets his guitar to the side and shrugs. “Run through it a few times while we grab some snacks.” 

Eddie watches as they all head inside and turns to Steve where he’s been sitting in the corner watching this absolute trainwreck unfold. “I can’t believe them!” 

Steve just shrugs and takes a drag from the joint Eddie rolled for him as payment for agreeing to be his ride today. “Just keep going. You’ll get it.” 

Eddie sighs and cracks his fingers. Okay. He’s got this. He runs through the parts separately a few times, making sure he has the solo figured out. Then he does the whole first part of the song, letting the muscle memory take over on all the parts he already has down. He keeps going, flowing through the solo again, convinced he’s got it this time and– he misses the whole transition. He groans, tugging on his hair in frustration. “Fuck me. This is impossible!” 

Steve sighs and gets up and starts walking over to him, joint still dangling from his lips. 

Eddie stares at him in confusion as he comes up behind him and goes to wrap his arms around Eddie and his guitar. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Steve leans forward and looks at him over his shoulder and talks around the joint in his mouth. “You’re skipping a beat. That’s why you keep getting off.” 

Eddie’s brow scrunches. “What the fuck are you talking ab–”

Steve swats Eddie’s hands out of the way and starts playing through the solo, Eddie’s fucking solo, flawlessly. And Eddie is just standing there like an idiot with his arms held up awkwardly out of the way so Steve can play. Eddie’s mouth drops open in shock and he stares down at Steve’s hands moving effortlessly along the frets. “What the fuck?” 

Steve huffs a laugh in Eddie’s ear, a puff of smoke filling the air around them. Steve gets to the part Eddie keeps fucking up on and slows down, leaning in close. “Right here.” He plays over the spot a few times, showing Eddie the beat he’s absolutely been skipping. “You miss that rest and it throws you off. See?” He plays through it again and goes right into the chorus, no problem. 

Eddie nods dumbly, still just staring at the way Steve’s hands look on his guitar. His brain feels scrambled with this new knowledge. Steve just waltzed over here and dropped the bomb that he can play guitar as good as, if not better than Eddie, by ear, and is acting like it’s no big deal. Like he didn’t just completely rock Eddie’s entire world. Because holy shit this is hot.

Steve is hot. 

Which like, okay. Duh. Obviously he has eyes and knows the guy is objectively attractive. But he has always just been…Steve. His friend. But now…Eddie is blushing. And if he’s being honest, he’s a little hard. Which is mortifying considering Steve’s hand is basically right over his dick. Eddie has never been jealous of an inanimate object before. But fuck if he doesn’t wish he was his guitar right now with Steve’s hands working over it like this. Eddie shakes his head with a laugh and leans back a little, lifting his hands to run his finger through his hair before lacing them behind his head to give Steve easier access. 

Steve runs through the rest of the song before letting go and stepping back. He gives Eddie’s shoulder a little squeeze and plucks the joint out of his mouth so he can flash him a smile. “Try it again–” He flicks the ashes off the joint. “I bet you’ll get it now.” 

Eddie just stares at him with wide eyes as Steve goes and flops back down on the shitty couch in the corner with a cocky grin. “What the fuck, Harrington?” 

Steve takes a drag from his joint and shrugs. “What?”

Eddie scoffs. “What do you mean ‘what?’” 

Steve’s smile stretches wider on his face and he sinks into the couch more. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Since when do you play the fucking guitar?”

Steve shrugs. “Since forever. My mom made me pick an instrument to take lessons on when I was little.”

Eddie scoffs. “And you never thought to mention this before?” 

Steve takes another drag, the smoke billowing out of his mouth as he shakes his head. “No. Why would I?”

Eddie chuckles, his mind still spinning. “Why’d you let me fumble through this shit when you knew what I was doing then?”

Steve shrugs and nods to the guitar. “Play through it again before they get back.” He looks up and locks eyes with him. “Tell them you figured it out.”

And– oh. He waited to show Eddie until they were alone so he could take credit for figuring it out. God damnit. He’s being sweet on top of everything and– 

This is no good. Eddie can feel the sparks of a crush catching fire in his chest, threatening to burn him alive. He clears his throat and nods. “Thanks, man.” 

Eddie shakes his head, trying to focus again. He starts at the beginning of the solo, making sure he pays better attention to counting out the beats and– nails it. He flies right through and into the chorus. 

He lets out a satisfied sigh, a smile pulling at his cheeks as he looks back up at Steve who is beaming with pride as he starts clapping. “Knew you could do it, Eds.” 

A blush rises on Eddie’s cheeks and he nods, trying to shove the swell in his heart down before it gets him into trouble. “Thanks.” 

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Slip Slidin' Away

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Coat | Word Count: 1355 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Modern Day AU, Ice Storm, Neighbors Meet Cute, FYP Getting *Far* Too Local

Eddie reaches for his phone. It's buzzing against his thigh again. He's getting annoyed. His doorbell camera has been going apeshit for the last ten minutes, but every time he checks, nobody's out there. 

Another notification, another annoyance, and this time he actually pulls up the recorded clip instead of just the live feed to see what kind of insect has survived the freeze just to terrorize him. 

It's not a bug, though.

It's worse. It's a man, on a pair of ice skates, gliding up and down their frozen street. 

What in the actual fuck? Is he crazy? This guy isn't even wearing a coat, but he glides into, and then out of view, on honest to god skates. In the street. Who the fuck is this dude?

Eddie watches the rest of that clip, then a couple more, before he puts his phone out of his reach, not picking it up again until it actually rings.

"It's too cold for band practice," Gareth says by way of hello, and well, no shit. None of them should be out in this weather. Especially not Eddie, he's a terrible driver under regular circumstances. On ice? Recipe for disaster, for sure.

"What gave it away, the solid sheet of ice or the freezing temperatures?"

"Asshole," Gareth laughs. "I'm just saying. Don't come slip slidin' away over here. You'll die."

"Speaking of slip slidin', Simon, there's a dude skating in the street outside the house," Eddie tells him. "He keeps setting off my doorbell cam."

"Like, hockey skating or figure skating?" Gareth asks, and fuck if Eddie knows? 

"I don't know. He's got blades strapped to his feet and a death wish." 

"Sounds familiar," Gareth says.

Eddie ignores him. He's crazy and reckless, but he's not skate in the street crazy. There's a difference, surely.

"He's not even wearing a coat. I'd at least wear a coat to my death."

"Because you're a delicate flower with no circulation."

Eddie laughs. He's not delicate, but he is cold-blooded to his core. 

"How long is this ice storm supposed to last?" Eddie asks. He hates this kind of bitter cold.

"Three days, give or take."

Three days. He can handle three days without interacting with another human being.

Later, when he's laying in bed doom scrolling, he gets a text from Gareth:

Eddie opens the link, and it's definitely his street, and is the video of the skating guy. The other POV? He thinks that's the right term, but he wouldn't bet the farm on it. Either way, the account's name is Robin, and with a quick glance through her profile, he suspects she's the wife of Mr. Skates. 

These must be his neighbors. He's done a pretty damn good job at avoiding meeting anyone, but here they are, on his phone. Small world.

She's razzing the shit out of him in the clip, and Eddie thinks she's not wrong. Dude's lucky he didn't catch a rock taller than the sheet of ice with his skate and eat shit. 

He's gorgeous. It loops again, and again.

Eddie watches him lace up his skates, over and over, and hit the icy street, laughing the whole time. 

Why is this video an hour long? 

He lets it cycle through one more time, gives it a like and a favorite, and Eddie's not much for social media, or playing nice with neighbors, but he leaves a comment before overthinking it. 

It's not until the next night, back in bed, his phone in his hand that he realizes there's a metric shit-ton of notifications waiting for him. Mainly likes on his comment and then a couple responses. This video must have blown up today. Which makes sense, if it was pushed into Gareth's feed for him to even see to send to Eddie, lots of other people must have gotten it, too.

His neighbors have responded, but were mainly just bantering with each other:

Well, now Eddie's embarrassed. Nice moves? He didn't realize this was gonna go public. Especially since this guy is good looking. Way to make a fool of yourself in front of the hot, new neighbor. Jesus H. Christ. 

He really needs to think things through before he says — or types — them. 

Oh well. He'll avoid them. That hasn't been hard to do so far, last night's assault on his camera, notwithstanding.

The next morning, Eddie's carefully tiptoeing outside to retrieve his mail, trying not to bust his ass on the ice that just will not melt, three days his fucking ass, when a yellow blur is zooming towards him. It comes to an abrupt stop, ice dust flying, right on the iced over pavement right in front of Eddie's mailbox. It's kinda impressive.

"You're Ed, right?" he asks.

"Eddie, yeah. Steve?" Eddie questions, and so much for not interacting. But the guy nods, giving him a bright smile. They shake hands, and now Eddie's met his neighbors. Anti-social streak over.

"That's me, I can't believe you saw our video from next door!" 

Eddie doesn't think he needs to go into a bunch of details on how it was really Gareth whose algorithm got fed it, so he just nods along, "Small world, indeed." 

"Robin is dying that it went kinda viral." 

"Your wife?" Eddie asks, and Steve nearly falls off his skates laughing. 

"No. No way. Best friend. Platonic with a capital P. Hetero life mates, except for the hetero part." 

Eddie's ears definitely perk up at that. 

"Well, I feel lucky to be on the non-hetero side of the street, then." 

Steve grins, "Oh, you definitely lucked out. Mr. Hollins across the street is straight enough for the whole neighborhood." 

Eddie doesn't know who that is, but laughs anyway.

Then has an idea: 

"So, I have an important question," Eddie says, and Steve just looks at him, curious and expectant. 

"Are those hockey skates or figure skates?" 

Steve holds onto Eddie's mailbox and laughs, head tossed back, hair flying. It's perfect. He's perfect.

"Hockey, but that doesn't mean I don't have moves. I have moves for days. Don't you worry." 

"Moves, you say? Well, let's see 'em, big boy."

Steve smiles, and pushes off into the street. Eddie ribbed him for no coat last night, and now here Eddie is, outside, no coat, freezing his ass off as he's demanding his cute neighbor skate for him. 

He takes out his phone, and starts recording. Even he knows this will be a popular update to their little moment. 

Steve skates backwards, crossing his legs over each other. 

"Can you jump?" Eddie yells. 

"It's not advised!" Steve yells back, "But, since when do I ever listen to advise! Waltz!" 

He does a little jump, and lands on one foot skating backwards. Eddie hoots and hollers, and Steve takes a bow. 

And that's it. He skates over and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

"You want to come in for coffee? Warm up?" Eddie offers, unwilling to let him just leave. 

"Hell yeah, sure," Steve agrees, and Eddie watches him skate up the driveway, and then stop on the porch to take off his skates. He holds onto Eddie's shoulder to balance himself, and Eddie can feel his warm hand, fingers gripping his skin, through his shirt.

He wants those hands in other places.

Oh, he's in trouble. Big, big trouble.

Steve has on big, thick socks and looks so cozy in his sweater as he follows Eddie in the house. 

"It's nice to have a good neighbor again. The last lady," Steve says, then gives two big thumbs down, blowing a raspberry.

Eddie laughs. He's never been considered the good neighbor before. Not with his shitty van, long hair and too loud music. 

He starts a pot of coffee, and looks in the fridge. He has a few things, and he wants Steve to stay as long as possible. Eddie has some wooing to do.

"You hungry?" 

"I could eat," Steve admits. "I can always eat. Hollow leg, all the sports will do that to you."

And Eddie starts fixing this hot guy, who's certainly way out of his league, no matter which sport, breakfast.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 🧥

Notes: I saw a video of someone ice skating on the street, and their neighbor saw it and commented like, "Hey! That's my car in the background!"

Slip Slidin' Away is a Paul Simon song.

Hetero life mates is a Jay & Silent Bob reference.

[hawkinsbnbg]

born to ride

prompt: ride | word count: 453 | rated: M | tags: pop star Steve Harrington, rockstar Eddie Munson, coming out, established Steddie | @steddiemicrofic | ao3

Steddie Bingo Prompts: car sex, service top, quickie | @steddiebingo

Stephen Joseph Harrington was America's heartthrob and golden boy. He’d debuted young as a child actor and later a singer when he reached twenty.

Ever since his third album peaked on Billboard Hot 100, his career had risen to the top, made him an A-list, and turned his net worth into millions of dollars.

Gradually, he wasn't just Henry in Wasteland anymore. He was Steve Harrington now. A singer, a songwriter, and a pop icon.

Cylinder was his sixth studio album and it'd quickly become an international sensation.

Although he didn't confirm anything about his sexuality, rumors had it the title song was his come-out statement.

Born To Ride

The race is almost over, but I’m in no haste

‘Cause love is my lasso, and I’m a professional

You gotta know

Darlin’, you gotta know

I take care of my boys when they ask nicely

Tonight, tonight, tonight

You’re mine

(oh, you're mine)

I'm gonna ride you, boy

I'm gonna ride you, boy

All night, all night, all night

‘Til dawn breaks the sky.

— Steve Harrington

Everyone loved it—especially the stage.

Not only did Steve look hot in his Barbie cowboy outfit, but he also straddled Eddie Munson’s thighs while singing about riding men.

He would’ve been in much more trouble if the rockstar hadn't been openly queer for years and known for despising queer baiting.

Their performance had made the social media explode that night.

Two days later, Eddie's Instagram posted a photo. It was a man sitting on his lap, facing him with a tanned back dotted with moles and freckles, wearing a pink cowboy hat.

The caption said: lassoed.

“Babybabybaby– Oh fuck–”

Ringed hands scrambled to grab his hips, blunt nails digging crescent moons into his tender flesh.

Steve threw his head back and swiveled his hips, thighs flexing as he sweated and bounced on his boyfriend's lap enthusiastically.

He needed to work fast. Make Eddie fill him up before the limo could reach their destination.

Beneath him, Eddie looked wrecked. Half-lidded eyes, red swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and wild hair.

Lovely. Handsome. His.

It only took a few more well-timed gyrations before warmth flooded his inside.

By the time they stepped out of the car, Steve was back in his teal suit once more. He smelled like whiskey and sex, plugged up and sated.

Wrapping an arm around his waist, Eddie waved at the cameras alongside him, looking delectable in a black suit that had been designed to complement his own.

The following day, the tabloids continued gossiping about their scandalous performance, how they’d got freaky in the limo before walking the red carpet together.

In response, Eddie only posted more photos of Steve riding a horse shirtless.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Some sort of hive mind thing

Written for the Kissing Booth bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompt: Body Swap

Rated: T

Words: 975

Tags: POV Dustin Henderson; Body swap; Secret relationship; Coming out; Implied sexual content (very brief, very vague); Crack and humor

“Okay, the others are on their way.” 

Dustin puts the walkie back on his bedside table. The alarm clock tells him it's a little after four in the morning. When he tries to tug on his hat to ground himself, he realizes he isn't wearing one because he's still in his pajamas. Biting back a yawn, he snatches his Thinking Cap from its hook on the wall and puts it on. He feels like he's going to need it. 

“While we wait, walk me through this again,” he says, turning back to the two miserable figures sitting side by side on his bed. “Steve?” 

“Yeah?” says Eddie. 

Dustin blinks. He can practically feel his brain whirring in his skull as it recalibrates. Sweet mother of all that's logical, this must be the fourth-most bizarre thing that ever happened to him. 

“Oh, wait,” says Steve. “If you say Steve shouldn’t I answer? Wouldn't want half the town to find out about this. I've barely even shaken the satanist allegations. Better not add body snatching to the list.” 

“The fuck?” Eddie hisses. “First you steal my body and now you're taking my name, too?” 

Steve grins, wide and toothy, fluttering his lashes exaggeratedly. “Let's table the discussion about who's taking whose name for later, big boy. We've more important stuff to figure out right now.” 

Okay, make that the third-most bizarre thing. 

“You both went to bed as usual,” Dustin says over the ensuing string of bickering, wondering not for the first time who's babysitting who here. “Then, a few hours later, you woke up to discover that you're stuck in each other's bodies.” 

Eddie-who-looks-like-Steve snorts a laugh and Steve-who-looks-like-Eddie elbows him.

“Quit it! Be serious about this!” 

“I’m trying to, but he said stuck in-” 

“Did anything happen last night?” Dustin asks. 

They both flinch. Eddie attempts to pull a lock of hair in front of his face but grasps at thin air. 

“Did anything- … I have no idea what you- … Nothing happened! Nothing at all!”

Dustin raises an eyebrow at him. Eddie starts chewing on Steve’s knuckles.

“Really? You sure? Nothing strange or out of the ordinary? I need you to think real hard about this, it could be important.” 

Steve shrugs, raking a hand through Eddie’s hair and frowning when his fingers get stuck in the frizzy mess. “Dunno, man. Our life's pretty much an endless string of freak incidents, so it's kind of hard to say what qualifies as- Gross, dude, stop chewing on my nails.” 

“It helps with my anxiety, and you have mine,” Eddie grumbles, but he still stops chewing. 

“Which is why it's crucial,” Dustin shoulders on, “to look for patterns. There must've been something that caused this, and there must be a reason why it happened to the two of you. Oh, you think it has to do with the bats? You're the only ones who got bitten, so maybe that's the connection. Maybe it's some sort of hive mind thing.” 

He has started pacing up and down in front of the bed, but at the corner of his vision, he can see how Steve squints Eddie’s dark brown eyes at him. 

“But that was months ago,” he says. He’s still wearing Eddie’s rings, Dustin notices. Eddie has pulled their hands into his lap and started fiddling with them, muttering something about how they won't fit Steve’s stupid, giant saucer hands. “Why would it happen now?” 

Dustin snaps his fingers. “Something must've triggered it. There must've been some kind of dormant connection the entire time, and one or both of you must've done something to activate it.” 

He stops pacing and turns to them, only to find they’re not looking at him anymore. Instead, they’ve ducked their heads together and started muttering among themselves in hushed voices. Dustin catches the words oughta tell him, and wrinkles his brow. 

“Tell me what?”

“Okay!” Steve screws Eddie’s eyes shut and pinches Eddie’s nose. “You know how you asked me to drive you to the arcade last night?”

“And you told me no because you had this big, important date?” Dustin rolls his eyes. “Sure. What about it?”

“And how you called me after?” Eddie says. He has started pulling on the ends of Steve’s hair now, and it seems to be getting frizzier by the second. It looks a bit like regular Steve put his fingers in a socket. “And I said I’d love to chauffeur you, but I couldn’t because I had already made plans?”

“Yes,” Dustin deadpans. “You were both completely and utterly unhelpful and I had to cycle all the way there in the dark and the wind, thank you for reminding me. Now what does this have to do with any-”

“Dustin,” says Steve. He looks at Eddie, then down at their entwined hands. Pointedly. Dustin feels his jaw drop. 

“Oh,” he says. “You mean you were- … You both couldn’t make it because you were each other’s- … Oh! Oh my God, please don’t tell me- … Were you two making out?” 

Silence drops. Somewhere outside, bicycle tires crunch on gravel, heralding the arrival of the Party. 

“Sure,” says Eddie. “Let’s call it making out.”

Dustin groans, turning to open his window. 

“Let’s try to keep this between the three of us,” he hisses. “The others don’t need to know this.”

“What?” Steve grumbles. He’s always blushed easily, but now, with his newly acquired pale complexion, he looks like an Eddie-shaped lava lamp. “These kids have dealt with interdimensional monsters and telepathic wizards, you’d think they’d be able to stomach two guys kissing.”

“That’s not it,” Dustin says, and now it’s his turn to break into a smug grin. “But Max bet me twenty bucks you wouldn’t last until Christmas, and I'm broke, so I'd appreciate it if she wouldn't find out just yet.” 

More Steddie bingo

[fkinkindagauche]

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

[katyawriteswhump]

something new 💝 (steddie microfic, steddie bingo)

For @steddiemicrofic January prompt, ‘new’ and @steddiebingo fill, ‘soulmates.’

Rating: M; WC: 517; CW: Omegaverse; Tags: Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, fluff, mild angst and h/c, Steve and Chrissy are besties, strangers to lovers, steddie soulmates. Summary: The Omega darling of the entire High School, Steve Harrington figured he was totally in control… until Eddie Munson happened.

💝💝💝💝💝

Steve sat in the corridor, leaning against the music-room wall. On the other side, a voice soared above a thrash-metal beat and melted his inner Omega into a puddle of need.

“Steve? You’re late for cheerleading practice… Oh!” Chrissy crouched down, stroked his clammy brow. “Stevie, you’re burning up.”

“I-it’s that voice.”

This was new, frightening. Steve daily flirted his ass off without breaking sweat—the Omega Princess of Hawkins High. This terrifyingly wonderful sound, however, hit some catastrophic resonance.

Slick gushed into his cheerleader hotpants. “Chrissy, what’s happening?”

“I think,” said the other Omega, “Eddie is happening.”

“Munson?”

The wild noisy music checked out, scaring Steve shitless. Eddie was a ‘dangerous’ bad-boy Alpha. They’d never even spoken.

“Sssssh, breathe,” said Chrissy. “C’mon, let’s clean you up.”

They skipped practice, while Steve calmed. Chrissy reassured him she’d known Eddie for years: “He looks scary, but he’s really nice.”

Later, in the canteen, Steve tentatively approached Eddie, who glanced his way, eyes narrowing. His Alpha musk—smoky-sweet with undertones of freshly-fired iron—stabbed Steve like a smoldering dagger.

Steve woke up at home, confused and mildly slick, a wisp of Eddie’s scent still upon him.

Horror struck.

He’d fainted! Chrissy, who sat by his bed, told him Eddie had been worried, and they’d brought him home together. Ugh, he was still so ashamed.

Steve couldn’t face college the next day. By lunchtime, multiple deliveries of chocolates and flowers had arrived from various Alphas.

Nothing new. None of them smelled of Eddie. He’d blown it.

Then an envelope landed on the doormat, containing a mixtape lightly doused in... Eddie’s scent.

Steve slid it into his Walkman and lay down, pulse skittering.

Hardcore-metal thrilled through him, interjected with soft-rock he already loved, like Bon Jovi.

Finally, Eddie sang.

Steve writhed, stroking himself, weeping with need. Eddie husked in his ears: “Never even spoken, never fucking touched. You tore inside me, twisting viscera, totally fucked me up…”

In the aftermath, Steve trembled, stunned.

The phone rang.

His parents were away, so Eddie came straight over. Chrissy, too, for support. This time, Steve perched on the bed, while Eddie approached cautiously. He kneeled to take Steve’s hand, smiling tentatively.

“This is new for me,” he mumbled, blushing and almost bashful. He kissed Steve’s fingers, setting Steve reeling giddily, tingling head-to-toe: “Never courted an Omega, like, old-school, before.”

Steve nearly yelled: This is the first time I’ve genuinely wanted to be courted. Instead, he said, “I love your voice.”

Please jump my bones already?

Eddie blushed harder and beamed wolfishly. Steve clasped his wrist and tugged him onto the bed, and animal magnetism did the rest. Eddie took Steve in his arms. Excruciatingly sweetly, Eddie’s lips brushed Steve’s, tongue probing gently. Steve tipped his throat back with a relieved sigh, turning willingly pliant. Eddie licked and nuzzled his scent-gland, setting him purring.

Chrissy giggled. “Gonna call Rob to pick me up.”

A month later, they were going steady. Eddie finally shared the title of the song he wrote that first day, when the longing in Steve’s Omega scent hijacked him and transformed his life forever:

‘Soulmates.’

💝💝💝💝💝

zero pressure tag: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[uncanniestdirge]

My next piece for @steddiebingo 's Get Lucky Event! The prompt for this one is Making Love ❤️ Come check out the full piece here!

[steddiebingo]

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[dreamwatch]

Written for @steddiebingo Prompt: Fruit

Word Count: 4k | Rating: T | CW: descriptions of injuries and medical procedures, medical trauma | POV: Mixed | Tags: Hurt/comfort, medical whump, Steve Harrington is Eddie's favourite pain killer, Steve is sweetheart, Eddie is a mess but he's on the way up, pre-relationship, language |

Also on AO3

My first bingo entry! Please mind the copious use of parentheses, ellipsis and italics.

Waking up in the hospital is always disorienting. Eddie naps constantly throughout the day and each time he rouses he’s thrown for a loop; unfamiliar bed linen, bright lights, stupid machines and their stupid noises, and all the tubes and wires attached to him. If he moves without thinking something pulls and some of the places these things are attached to are already really fucking sensitive. Motion of any kind is not his friend right now.

Even before his eyes are fully open he knows someone is in the room with him, there usually is. But he recognises Steve’s cologne almost instantly, the guy practically bathes in it and it tends to waft a few feet ahead of him. He’d be a terrible spy.

Eddie turns his head to the right, not bothering to try and lift it from the pillow. He feels like shit today, another infection in one of his larger wounds is setting him back, so now he’s being pumped with another round of nuclear strength antibiotics. ‘Debridement’ ranks alongside ‘Vecna’ and ‘bats’ for words he never wants to hear for the rest of his fucking life. 

Steve sits back in the larger of the two visitor chairs, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed neatly at the ankles. He’s reading a magazine from the pile Gareth and Jeff brought on their last visit. Steve Harrington reading Metal Hammer is… decidedly odd. Eddie’s about to say so but Steve reaches down to a little brown paper bag on his lap and pulls out a cherry by the stem, and Eddie’s utterly enthralled as Steve tips his head back and the cherry touches his parted lips. Eddie let’s out a little annoyed huff, because firstly, he’s not well enough to enjoy the vision of Steve’s cherry stained lips swallowing down another piece of fruit, and secondly, solid food. 

(Thanks to those bats burrowing into his abdomen, one of the many extras he’s sporting these days is giving him nutrition directly into his intestines while his insides gently ease themself back into working order, so food is a touchy subject for him right now. Wayne implemented a food ban in his room after Eddie nearly cried at the sight of a half eaten pastrami sandwich Dustin had brought from school.)

Steve finally catches his eye as he drops the cherry into his mouth and hastily finishes it off, spitting the pit out. Jesus Christ.

“Oh hey,” he says softly. That’s something Eddie has noticed, how Steve and Wayne keep their voices low when he wakes up, probably because they’ve been there enough times when he’s been so out of it that he’s panicked and the extra noise makes everything worse. Other people, Dustin and Mike shaped people, Gareth and Jeff shaped people, they carry on like it’s the school lunch room. Robin can go either way.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice still sounds awful to his ears. He was told he was on a ventilator for three weeks and his voice has been fucked up ever since they weaned him off it, scratchy and weak and sore. The doctors keep telling him it will improve, but in the meantime he sounds like Marilyn Monroe being possessed by a demon.

Steve leans closer. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, not at all.”

“You need anything?”

Eddie smiles, even though what he’s feeling is kinda complicated. He hates this, like, all of this. He can barely move, he sleeps most of the day and still wakes exhausted, and everything hurts all the time, though admittedly morphine is a hell of a drug. But then his friends, including these new ones, the people who pulled him out of the pyre, well they’re there for him all the time. It makes him want to cry. Everything makes him want to cry right now.

“Water would be nice, actually. And maybe if I could sit up a little?”

Steve springs into action, raising the head of the bed and readjusting Eddie’s pillows before passing him a plastic beaker of water. The water is warm, like the sun-baked bottles of Dr. Pepper he always seems to have rolling around on the floor of the van (and he could certainly use some of it’s vim, vigour and vitality right about now actually); it’s a little gross but he’s found the bar for what could be considered acceptable got lowered considerably since he woke up. 

Old Eddie lived on a healthy diet of cigarettes, weed and government cheese and hotdogs on white bread (Jesus Christ, he needs to stop thinking about food). But water has been a hell of an eye opener. He’s not allowed to gulp liquids, probably couldn’t if he tried, but once he’s home and normal and not looking like a medical voodoo doll he’s all in on the water. Beer isn’t getting a look in, he’s getting fancy bottles of Evian and loading their shitty fridge with it and he’s going to chug ice cold water all day long.

The television is on, the credits of All My Children playing out in silence, which means Wayne has been here today. Wayne knows him in ways no one should be able to know a person, things you barely admit to yourself, so he’s been able to join dots over the years that Eddie doesn’t even know are there. Eddie doesn’t give two fucks about soap operas (…possibly not true) but Susan Lucci’s voice is the shelter of the trailer on a shitty school day when he’s cut classes, or being home sick, bundled under blankets with Wayne’s large hand stroking his head. It’s painfully ordinary, and for the first time in his life ordinary seems like a wonderful thing.

“Are you watching this?” Steve asks him as One Life To Live begins.

“Kind of?”

“Wow. I hope your band don’t know about this dude, that’s your entire rep on the floor right there.”

Eddie laughs, which in turn pulls sharply at the stitches in his left cheek, and the smile fades away into nothing. 

Some of the stitches were removed, some re-done, but he knows from Wayne’s face that whatever is under the dressing isn’t for the faint hearted. He’s only seen a few of the bites, mostly some superficial ones on his arms. The evil fucks went all in on the important parts: face, throat, hands (you will never be able to tell him that wasn’t punishment for his show on the trailer roof). His stomach and legs are a mess, fuckers even got his foot. The sensation of them tearing through leather, burrowing through his skin and muscle, the way he could feel them inside him, in his—

“You’re okay, it’s okay.”

A warm hand grabs his, halting the tremor, and Steve’s voice is melodic, rhythmic. Eddie can’t really make all the words out, just his name, you’re okay, you’re okay…

It takes a few minutes but he gets there, his breathing shaky but even. It’s not the first time it’s happened (he had a real fucking doozy when he woke up with a tube down his throat, awful, horrendous, do not recommend) and he’s been assured by wonderful, horrible doctors that it won’t be the last. Still, it’s mortifying, more so when it’s in front of people like Steve ‘put together like a Gap model’ Harrington. The guy has a scaly pink ring around his throat and he makes it look like a fashion choice. It’s unfair to be that cool.

(However, and Eddie fucking delights in this, his week on the run with the Mystery Gang, and his subsequent week back in the land of the living, have demonstrated to him that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High (Retired) is one of the biggest dorks he’s ever met. When he’s feeling better he is going to cash in his chips and dine out on that piece of information for an inordinately long time.)

Steve passes him the beaker again, supporting it this time because that tremor just will not fuck off apparently, and somehow panic plus leaning forward to take a drink out of a sippy cup equals exhaustion these days. He let’s the pillow and mattress swallow him and spends the next few minutes watching the TV in silence. 

Steve grabs the remote and notches the volume up a little, smiling at Eddie as he relaxes into the big vinyl seat.

“You’re secret’s safe with me, dude.”

Eddie risks another smile, smaller this time, careful.

“Fuck you,” he says, and it would sound soft if it weren’t for the cheese grater in his throat.

They sit back and watch their stories together, interspersed with town gossip, because Steve is beloved by everyone in Hawkins and he hears everything these days. It’s so bizarre. 

One Life To Live rolls into General Hospital, and Eddie’s eyes slip closed, but that’s okay because it’s never been the same since Rick Springfield left, and Steve is narrating half of it for him anyway. He’s trapped in a hospital bed, wearing unfamiliar skin, and Steve is filling him on the latest with Sean and Monica’s affair, and town tidbits like Tommy Hagan’s mother getting into a fight with the relief team at the school because she didn’t like the quality of the donations they assigned to her. This is his new normal, and it’s awful and wonderful in equal measure. 

He opens his eyes to find Steve frowning at him.

“Something on my face?”

Steve does his best to hide his smile, but Eddie still catches it. He knows it doesn’t mean anything, these little looks that verge on fondness, just a new friend being attentive and offering support, but disconnecting his brain from those thoughts is hard right now. It’s a fight for future Eddie, home from the hospital - wherever home may be - trying to work out his new place in the world. For now though he’ll bask in it.

Steve gets up and takes a look at his medical chart, that frown back in full force. Eddie tries not to imagine him in a white coat or scrubs.

Holy shit.

The chart is clipped back into place and then Steve grabs the call button, pressing it entirely too many times.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks.

“You’re overdue pain meds.”

“I’m okay for now.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah I can see that by the look on your face.” 

Eddie’s been gaining exceptional clarity on every cell in his body for the last thirty minutes or so, can feel every needle, every stitch, every tube, every port. Can feel the flaming, debrided edge of his skin, the donor sites where he had skin removed for a graft stinging and itching. And it’s a solid seven right now, but he knows well that his pain is a steam train flying downhill, gaining speed and momentum. The seven will be an eight real fast, and the nine will come in the blink of an eye. 

It has been a while since his last dose of morphine; some of the nurses are a little more on it with their care of the Devil of Hawkins than others, and there’s more than one face he dreads seeing when they walk in his room. Some of them are rougher with him than they need to be, he knows that, but making a fuss… he just doesn’t have the fight in him. 

Regardless, Eddie thought he was doing a pretty good job of keeping a lid on his discomfort, because once he gets that shot it’s going to be off to La La Land for him, nighty-night time, lights out. His life is, and forgive him for being melodramatic here but he’s fucking earned it, a revolving door of of misery interspersed with blinding goodness. Steve is the highlight of his day, he brings sunshine with him no matter the state of the outside world, and Eddie needs it, like the fluids and antibiotics and morphine, he needs Steve. 

So yeah, forgive him for maybe trying to be a brave soldier just to stay awake a little longer.

A nurse comes into his room smiling at him, which is a rare occurrence. Ethel is one of the good ones which he always found kind of odd because she’s on the more mature side, if he was being delicate. He’s caught Wayne eyeing her up on more than one occasion, even caught Ethel giving him the eye back. He’s already warned the old man to knock it off because he’s traumatised enough and he doesn’t need to wake to the sight of Ethel straddling Wayne in that big comfy chair. If looks could kill Wayne would have finished off the job the bats so valiantly began.

“How’s my favourite patient today, huh?” she asks him.

Steve smiles at her, and something glows in Eddie that it matters to Steve that she’s nice to him.

“He’s in pain,” says Steve, no preamble.

“I’m not.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m not! I’m okay.”

Ethel checks his monitors and his chart, then gently takes his hand, thumb stroking over the back of it.

“What have I told you about being brave, huh? You look uncomfortable, sweetheart. There’s no prize here for suffering.”

“What a shame,” he jokes, “I was really hoping for a trophy. Maybe a certificate?” His face falls. “I’m not getting my diploma, may as well get something out of this.”

Ethel taps him softly on the arm. “Stop that, immediately, young man.” She gives his hand a final short squeeze. “Okay, let me go and get the good stuff. And I’m sorry, sweetheart, you should have been given this an hour ago.”

He shrugs best he can. “ I was asleep so…”

“That’s not the point,” Steve cuts in. “It’s not the first time it’s been late,” he says to Ethel, the coolness in his voice making it clear he’s not happy about it. “He’s supposed to be staying ahead of the pain, right?”

“I know,” she says, resigned. “I’m going to follow it up, don’t worry. Be back in a moment.”

Steve takes his seat back at Eddie’s side once Ethel has left his room, and he scoots his chair closer and closer until he can rest his arms across the top of the safety rail of the bed. Eddie can’t take his eyes off him. 

“You sure you’re close enough?” he teases.

Steve backs away a little but Eddie stretches his hand out, hoping he’ll get the picture, praying it’s not too forward. Because at the end of the day he’s just some weirdo that got pulled into this bizarre vortex of evil, but there’s a beautiful man here everyday offering him comfort and he hurts too much, in all kinds of ways, to bear losing it.

Steve leans back in and grabs his hand with a relaxed smile like he’s in the very best place he can be right now, and what a thought that is? 

Eddie’s getting used to Steve’s touch, knows where the calluses are, the little bump on the inside of his middle finger, probably from holding a pen too tight. How his nails are too short because he bites them. How warm they always are. He never wants to lose that knowledge but soon there won’t be any reason for Steve to touch Eddie like that. For now though he savours it.

Ethel returns and injects his painkillers directly into the cannula on the back of his hand. He feels the cool flood of it under his skin before it warms and spreads through him, leaving him loose.

“I’m on till six,” she says to Steve. “Come find me if you need anything.”

She leaves them alone, closing the door behind her, blocking out the constant noise coming from outside his room.

Eddie feels the drugs oozing through him, his arms and legs and head feel like cotton candy and lead, all sweet and fluffy and syrupy and weighty and—

“Cotton candy, huh?”

Oh shit, did he say that out loud?

Steve laughs. “Yeah, you did. You’re funny when you’re high, you know that?”

Eddie’s about to answer when Steve’s stomach lets out the most intense noise.

“Holy shit, Harrington.” Eddie laughs, and he can’t hide the rough slur in his voice.

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. Why don’t you go for something to eat?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I have cherries, remember? I should have eaten them before I got here.”

Eddie does his best to bat his hand at Steve’s little stash of cherries. “Well eat them now before your stomach thinks your throats been cut.”

“I’ll eat them later, I shouldn’t have been eating in here anyway, not until that’s gone.” He flicks his finger toward the tube snaking out of Eddie’s nose. 

“I don’t mind,” he says, his voice getting thicker. “I don’t like cherries.”

His head gets heavier, feels like he’s going to fall through the pillows and mattress, fall through the floor, fall through to the—

He starts to cry.

Steve reaches over the rail and wipes away a few stray tears. It’s a testament to how often this happens that he doesn’t say anything, no shhhh-ing noises, no telling him it’s going to be okay. It will be, he knows that, but he can’t stop crying at the oddest times. Ethel said it was his body dealing with everything, just part of the healing process, but he didn’t know if that was just something she was saying to make him feel better or if it was actually true.

“You wanna see a trick?” Steve whispers, cherry stained lips so close to Eddie’s face. If his arms worked he thinks he’d touch them. 

He hopes he didn’t say that out loud.

“Okay.”

Steve scoots back and grabs a cherry, plopping it in his mouth, contorting his face into a dozen which ways, and Eddie knows exactly what he’s doing before he spits out the knotted cherry stem. 

He giggles, the sudden onset of tears at a halt (for now). 

“Of course Steve Harrington is good with his tongue.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide when he realises what he said, knows for sure he said it out loud this time. But Steve doesn’t look scandalised, doesn’t look at Eddie like he’s a freak. He looks delighted.

“What can I say, I’m a man of many talents.”

Eddie feels his eyelids slip closed only opening them when he feels the head of the bed slowly lower again, his blanket being pulled up and smoothed out, lines and tubes untangled and out of his way. He kind of wants to cry again, these little acts of kindness, of gentle care, overwhelm him. Before it all he had Wayne. After, he got Steve and Dustin and Robin and Ethel and on and on and on… 

He feels undeserving of it all.

“You have really pretty eyes.” 

It slips out, his morphine-loosened tongue unable to stop from spilling all his little secrets. Steve leans on the rail, head on one arm, the other snaking through the bars to hold Eddie’s hand, and Eddie shivers when he feels the strong thumb stroke his fingers softly, avoiding all the needles and bandages taking up way too much real estate. 

Eddie had wished so hard for his mom that first day he woke up, driven to fierce tears by the grief of her death, all fresh and knotted in him despite how many years she had been gone, because he had wanted this, someone to hold him, to touch him just for comfort and not because they needed to pierce another vein, or clean a wound. Wayne gives his touch freely because he wants to and because he knows sometimes Eddie just needs it (and he won’t ask for it).  Now Steve is doing the same thing and it’s huge and consuming and Eddie feels swaddled in it; a warm blanket of care that he never wants to let go of.

Steve smiles at Eddie and with his brain all soupy he can’t make out if it’s fondness or if he thinks Eddie’s a weirdo. Maybe both.

Eddie’s vaguely aware that he’s lying there slack jawed, more from the drugs and generally feeling like warmed over shit, but maybe it’s awe, maybe it’s because he survived the most awful week of his life and ended up here with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington looking at him like he’s something special. Something precious.

“Go to sleep, Munson,” Steve says, nearly a whisper. 

“Don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He gently squeezes Eddie’s fingers. “I’ll be right here. Promise.”

Eddie finally gives in and lets his eyes slip closed. “I really like you,” he says, sleep speeding him away.

“I really like you, too.”

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

Eddie is lax and Steve knows he’s going to drop off any second. Eddie’s like an old cat, long hours of sleep interspersed with constant naps. He needs it, Steve wants him to have it because he needs him to get better. He kind of misses him when he nods off. Even when Wayne or Dustin are here, he rarely takes his eyes off Eddie, probably because at the beginning each new day was not a given. He spent fewer days watching over him back then because, and God help him for this, he didn’t want to be there if Eddie died. He watched it once, left Eddie broken and bruised in a last ditch effort to stop it being permanent, and from time to time he gets the oddest sensation under his hand, that feeling of give, of breaking, and it makes him sick every time. So yeah, he didn’t want to be here then. But he wants to now.

Steve’s trying to be cautious because Eddie isn’t all there about seventy per cent of the time he’s awake and the other thirty percent of the time he’s in pain, so it’s not fair and he’s not a sleaze. But he hopes once Eddie’s out of this fucking place, once they’re sitting under the summer sun, maybe lazing in Steve’s pool on a hot day, he hopes then he’ll be able to say something. He hopes they’ll be able to get to know each other properly out of the confinement of this awful room, that the connection he feels doesn’t fade when Eddie finally goes home.

It feels like noticing Nancy that first time, when he couldn’t take his eyes off her in the library, his stomach flip-flopping because she was all he could think of. His mornings, afternoons and evenings full of thoughts of Nancy, Nancy, Nancy. 

Now they’re full of Eddie.

He’s not sure if Eddie even likes guys, and if they only remain friends well then that’s okay. Because Eddie is funny, and sweet and stupidly kind, and despite his blustering - admittedly not at full force right now - he loves Dustin, and the rest of his Hellfire buddies. He’s good. And Steve wants more good in his life.

He knows Eddie is flirting with him, just a little, so he flirts back, just a little. But he’s going to act on it one of these days.

“Go to sleep, Munson,” he croons, trying to ease Eddie into a peaceful rest.

Eddie’s hand twitches in what Steve things is a failed attempt at grabbing his.

“Don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here. Promise.”

“I really like you.”

Steve makes a valiant effort to not read into that the way he wants. Tries his very best to tamp down the Eddie, Eddie, Eddie of it all. But he’s a weak man.

“I really like you, too.” 

And he does. So much it aches in him.

There’s always a moment when Eddie closes his big brown eyes where Steve’s heart jack rabbits, where he frets that this might be the last time he gets to look into them, but it’s getting better, Eddie is getting better, despite the set backs. So he waits for Eddie’s gentle snuffles to kick in, before relaxing and finishing off the last of his cherries.

When he gets home he empties his pockets, wallet and keys on his desk, loose change into his coin jar, and the little knotted cherry stem on his bedside table.

Full disclosure - I have never watched All My Children, One Life To Live or General Hospital in my life, and therefore I am very sorry for any innacuracies. Apparently Sean and Monica's affair was the big story line around April/May 1986 - I did my best!

@the-unforgivenn Hope I didn't mess it up too badly!

[nerdygeekypastrychef]

February 22nd 1989

for the @steddiebingo kissing booth prompt: oh. OH.

Read on AO3 for full tags

a/n: tbh I can't believe that no one else has written an eddie POV for this totally real historical event. Youngins need an education. So after you read my silly little fic (please) head over to youtube and watch the video and imagine for yourself Eddie watching live. (Canon? Don't know her, never heard of her)

This prompt had a lot of versions but this was the one that demanded to be written once my (stupid, aging) body let me sit down to write.

Post Vecna-pocalypse, they needed time. Time to heal, time to bond. Time to be together. Steve’s house was the logical solution, since it was the only one big enough to fit everyone. The only one with multiple bathrooms and bedrooms, spaces to retreat when they needed time alone versus the time they spent together. And no parents. 

The adults of the group, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, and Robin, hurting but needing all the same things that the kids needed, they gutted the house. They removed everything that Steve’s mom had decorated with before she and his dad left Hawkins years before. His parent’s master suite became the sleepover room. All furniture removed and the floor covered in mattresses, pillows, blankets, essentially a giant nest. His father’s home office was turned into a TV room, giant couch and recliners and the biggest tv that they could find.

Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan made the decision to wait on college, take a gap year or two and to stay in Hawkins with the kids until they graduated. Safety in numbers. Steve and Eddie had never planned on anything else, jokingly taking over the mantles of ‘mom and dad’ seamlessly as the kids flourished in their teens.

Sunday February 22nd, 1989 found everyone in the tv room Eddie in the center, control over the remote and the bucket of popcorn. The tv clicked over to CBS as the droning voice of the voice over person announced the 31st annual grammy awards.

“I thought awards were stupid and meaningless. Popularity contests.” Steve commented from the doorway, trying to figure out how he could steal one of the seats next to Eddie without anyone giving him shit for jostling everyone.

“Yeah, I mean, they totally are; it’s all bullshit. I stand by that. But the Grammys added a Heavy Metal category AND Metallica is gonna win and it’s history so we’re all watching. It’s like the Beatles on Ed Sullivan in 1964.” Eddie announced, shoving Dustin away from the seat to his immediate right, and gesturing at Steve to come sit close.

“I dunno about comparing this to the Beatles on Ed Sullivan but we take your point. The Show already started, we don’t need another lecture.” The commercials are annoying and cheesy, but Billy Crystal is funny and the performances are really good. When Metallica is announced and one starts to play with the explosions and sounds of gunshots, Eddie stops breathing. 

The kids are completely silent for the first time ever.

During the first guitar solo, Steve can’t stop himself from leaning over and whispering that the guitarist is kinda hot. Eddie doesn’t reply beyond placing a hand on Steve’s thigh and squeezing.

Even though the song is long, Steve finds himself enraptured. There’s something about the song that pulls him in. When it ends abruptly, and Billy Crystal is back on screen telling jokes and announcing Lita Ford and Alice Cooper, Steve finds himself pulled to the edge of his seat on the couch. Eddie’s excitement is infecting the whole group. He can’t help but glance over at Robin when Lita Ford appears on screen; Robin has a type and that woman is it. He laughs at the way her mouth hangs open at the sight of her.

Metallica

AcDc

Iggy Pop

Jethro Tull

Jane’s Addiction

It’s an odd grouping that’s nominated, that’s for sure. Sort of like the academy didn’t understand what heavy metal was and just threw a bunch of names together because they were popular.

Alice Cooper pulls a rubber snake from inside his jacket and hands it to Lita Ford before he finds the envelope. He opens the envelope and announces the winner. Steve thinks that even when his house was empty it had never been so silent.

“JETHRO TULL????!!!”  the words echo through every room in the house, indeed right out the windows and into the neighbor’s houses.  Birds settling on nearby roofs are disturbed and take off in flight. Some very conservative rich people were about to learn about one of the more interesting bands of the 1970’s and 80’s.

The kids scatter. No one wants to deal with what is sure to be an epic Eddie meltdown. Steve just turns so that the ear with the most hearing damage is facing Eddie’s handsome, but red with anger face.

“Jethro. Tull.” Eddie says again, blinking at the now dark tv screen. One of the smarter kids obviously turned it off as they ran for safety.

“The first ever heavy metal grammy was awarded to Jethro Tull by Lita Ford and Alice Cooper.” Steve nods but stays silent; Eddie doesn’t need anyone else in this conversation, he’s doing just fine on his own. 

“Well, a flute is made of metal. Maybe that’s what they were thinking when they gave it to Jethro Tull.” Steve has to bite down hard on his tongue to keep his face neutral as Eddie’s deep brown eyes suddenly focus on his face. Steve blinks but betrays no emotion.

“Steve. Stevie. Steve.” Steve squints at Eddie’s face. 

“You know, like how glam is just metal with lipstick? People get them confused.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open and Steve carefully doesn’t laugh. 

“Steve Harrington I am not in the mood for a boner right now, I’m gonna need you to stop talking intelligibly about music for a second and let me be ridiculous about this.”

Steve shook his head and blinked at Eddie for a moment trying to pull some thoughts into his head. He watched as Eddie fully realized what he said and his adorable face turned pink and then red with embarrassment.

“You get boners about me?” Steve asked and then looked down at his hands. That was not what he’d planned to ask. He looked back up to see if Eddie was going to answer and saw Eddie hesitantly nod yes.

“Oh. OH. Me too!” Steve practically yelled and Eddie’s head tilted to the side in confusion.

“You… get boners about yourself?” Eddie asked and Steve’s enthusiasm calmed down so that he could explain himself.

“No, about you! I’ve wanted you forever. It’s been so hard to have you so close all the time but not, like, close enough.” Eddie snickered at the word ‘hard’ and Steve smiled back at him.

“Wait! If I want you and you want me then what the fuck are we doing talking in the tv room?” Eddie asked as he shoved himself up off the couch and all the way into Steve’s personal space. Steve brushed their lips together then asked, “What about the Grammys? Aren’t you still mad, or whatever?”

“Fuck the Grammys, Steve Harrington wants me.”

[lady-lostmind]

GIVE A SHIT

Written for @steddiebingo Kissing Booth Prompt: Dress Up

Rating: T | WC: 631

Thank you @oh-stars for betaing!!

“This is stupid, Buckley. I look like an idiot. This is never going to work.” Eddie’s face scrunches in disgust as he stares in the mirror, tugging at the secondhand suit jacket Robin shoved onto his shoulders. 

Robin rolls her eyes, “You always look like an idiot.” She pulls Eddie to face her and wraps a tie around his neck. “You guys have been dancing around each other for too long. It’s getting ridiculous.”

Eddie scoffs. “And you think this–” He gestures to himself in his best, non-ripped black jeans, black dress shirt, and the stupid fucking jacket. “Is the solution?”

Robin glares at him while she ties the tie. “No. I think you getting your head out of your ass and actually making a move is the solution.” 

“And this is the move? Dressing like some yuppie in a suit!?” 

Robin flicks him on the forehead, grinning meanly when he yelps and rubs the sore spot. “I think actually making an effort and showing Steve you actually give a shit, is the move.” 

Eddie’s face drops. “Is that what he thinks? That I don’t give a shit?” 

Robin sighs and she smoothes out his tie. “Steve doesn’t think anyone gives a shit about him.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Even I have to constantly remind him or he gets all in his head about it and pulls away.” 

Eddie shakes his head, looking down at his ridiculous outfit with a sigh. “Do I buy him flowers?”

He glances back up and sees Robin smiling widely. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

Eddie shows up at Steve’s house with a bouquet of roses, and a baggie of weed, feeling ridiculous as he knocks on the door. He wants to be with Steve. And Robin is right. They’ve been dancing around this for close to a year. But he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s not– He’s never really had a relationship. He’s never really cared that much. He’s never–

Steve opens the door, eyes going wide when he sees Eddie. “Eds, what–”

“I give a shit.” Great. Really solid start, Eddie.

Steve’s brow furrows. “Okay–”

Eddie sighs, pushing past Steve and pushing the flowers to his chest. “These are for you.”

Steve’s eyes go all sparkly as he looks down at the flowers in his hand, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie starts pacing. “I’m not good at this, okay? I know I’ve probably been fucking this up, majorly, and I’m sorry about that. And I know you deserve better than a trailer trash freak but–”

Steve’s face goes soft. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head. “I know, I know. But please, just hear me out, okay? Robin said I have a shot. And I figure she knows. And I know this–” He gestures to himself and the flowers. “Is all a little cheesy and over the top but I do give a shit. About you. I give a lot of shits about you. All the shits, honestly and–”

Steve takes a step forward. “Eds–”

Eddie shakes his head holding his hands out in front of him. “I know I’m probably not what you imagined for your life. I know this is–” He sighs. “I just want you to be happy. And I think that maybe– Maybe I can make you happy. If you give me a chance.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest with a sigh and Eddie’s heart sinks. “Are you done?”

Eddie stops pacing in front of him, his body slumping in defeat. He knew this was a bad idea. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Steve smiles, wide and cocky as he strides forward. “Good.” He cups Eddie’s jaw and leans in close. “Because I’m going to kiss you now.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Novel Movements

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Eddie Munson | Word Count: 2684 | Rating: T | CW: Medical Emergency (Not Steddie), Language | POV: Eddie | Tags: Gym AU, Modern AU, One-Sided Enemies to Lovers, Misconceived Notions, Platonic Stobin, Steve's Flirting, But Eddie Doesn't Know That, Oblivious Eddie Munson

"Eddie Munson."

His name is said with such sarcasm that Eddie turns his head to look.

Of course.

Just what he needed today.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie mimics in the same mocking tone. He doesn't know very many names in this place, but Steve Harrington has made sure Eddie knew his, even if it was totally against Eddie's will.

Now, Steve's standing there, grinning at him.

He's not going to put up with him. Not today. 

Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the gym. And there are lots of gym bros here to choose to loathe. He honestly barely knows him. But Steve Harrington is always prancing around in his little shorts, with his hair stretching towards the sky, like he's not preparing to teach a workout. Eddie isn't even sure what class he teaches. All Eddie knows is that he never seems to work up a sweat during them, as far as he's ever seen.

If he's not standing around taunting Eddie, he's leaning over the front desk, harassing Robin. She's a lesbian, Eddie is sure of it, and if Steve Harrington can't see that and know to leave her alone, he needs his eyes checked. He's always just a step too close to her, and about two steps too close to Eddie.

It's frustrating, infuriating, and Eddie hates him.

He might not sign a second contract with this place. He was asked, as a favor, to take over some classes short-term, and he's enjoyed the extra cash. But it clearly comes with a cost. 

He's gonna kill Gareth for assuring him this was a cool place to work. It's not cool. Well, it's cool. Except for Steve Harrington.

There were more than enough Steve Harringtons in his high school that he doesn't need to work alongside any more of them now.

Eddie looks away, and watches as his own kickboxing students filter in. When he was younger he needed an outlet for his teenage rage, Wayne signed him up for a kickboxing class at the local gym. At first, he hated the idea. Exercise? A sport? No fucking thanks. But he gave it a try. For Wayne. 

It was just him and some weird older dude that really preferred karate in that first class, but Eddie quickly learned to love it. The release. The pounding of his heart. How the stress would seemingly just melt away, one kick, one elbow, at a time. How the resistance, heavy and thick, would ground him. 

It was a good idea. But Wayne's ideas usually are, Eddie damn well knows that. 

And now, years later, he's the one teaching the classes to help others maybe find their love of it, too. Eddie's no sports guy. Not at all. Kickboxing is his main form of exercise. Sure, he'll use the rest of the gym every so often, since it's a perk of working here, but overall, this is his only thing. 

Nothing else has ever appealed to him in this same way. 

Steve saunters down the catwalk, the sun reflecting through the huge pane glass windows, illuminating him as he's bouncing with every step. The motherfucker always gives off main character energy, and that's true today as he glows while Eddie watches him go.

He'd much rather see him going, then coming, that's for fucking sure. He's too goddamn chipper.  

Eddie's already soaked, hair clinging to his neck, so he just as well run for a bit. It's not his favorite thing, not by a long shot, but it's necessary evil sometimes. 

The wall of treadmills is blissfully empty, and he picks one, and gets to work. Feet hitting, over and over, as he counts down the time he needs to spend on this thing. He doesn't enjoy it, but he'll do it. Occasionally.

Then he catches movement beside him.

Jesus H. Christ. 

The place is a ghost town and Steve Harrington still feels the need to set up camp right next to him. 

Eddie ignores him. Pretends he doesn't even realize he's got unwanted company, and pounds along the belt. Eddie can see him in the mirror though, unfortunately, and Steve smiles. He looks graceful while running, of course he does, especially compared to Eddie's heavy stride. 

When Eddie's cooldown begins, Eddie's grateful. He's ready to hit the showers and get the hell out of here.

Steve's still running, like it's easy as can be, even after Eddie's showered and dressed, bag slung over his shoulder. 

He's gotta get home. Tomorrow is his early class day. He's not a morning person, but he conceded to having at least one class a week before nine.

Eddie rolls in, coffee cup in hand. He hears the commotion, the frantic buzz of something is happening echoing through the open gym, bouncing down the catwalk, from room to room, like it's seeking help it just can't quite find.

"Okay, everybody, give me a second. Get a drink, stretch, I'll be back and we'll get started then," Eddie says, telling his class. They are all huddled in groups discussing what might be going on. 

He jogs down the catwalk, then peeks into every class on the other side of the split structure as he passes by, looking for the right one. Most of them are empty. When he turns the corner, he sees a crowd gathered at the end of the hall, and jogs that way. Someone's on the phone with 911, thankfully, because inside Steve Harrington is performing CPR on an older man, while everybody is just standing around watching. 

Eddie ushers them away from the door, and then starts gathering up the rest of the class Steve was teaching. A room filled with senior citizens, all in their matching sweatsuits and white New Balance shoes. Standing around, looking lost.

He's not sure where to move them. He could just send them home, but thinks they need time to unwind, process what they've witnessed, and maybe that's better done here than off somewhere else, possibly alone. He sees Gareth down the hall, and snaps his fingers, waving him over, getting Gareth to take all of the now shaken students to his classroom. No, they probably aren't gonna join in on his cardio drumming class, though Eddie knows he's offered one for seniors in the past.

Then Eddie runs back in, and it's just Steve Harrington, working his ass off on this poor guy.

Eddie counts for him, like he's been trained. 1, 2, 3, over and over and Steve follows the beat of Eddie's cadence until he looks worn out.

He's sweating now. Bangs clinging damp and limp to his forehead, and Eddie hates it. It looks unnatural.

"We'll switch, in 3, 2, 1," Eddie says, and Steve lifts his hands and Eddie takes over. 

"I got…I started, fast. I think, I think, maybe," Steve breathes out in short bursts, clearly exhausted. Out of breath and shaken.

Then, Steve counts for him, while Eddie listens for sirens.

It doesn't take long before he hears them, screaming up the road, and they switch off again as Eddie runs to the main stairs to guide them in. 

The professionals take over, and Eddie stands next to Steve, watching as they shock the guy back into a normal rhythm. Maybe they did it. Maybe Steve did it. Time is the most important thing, and Steve started right away. There's a chance.

Steve gave him a chance.

Hopefully, the guy will be okay.

Hopefully, Steve will be okay.

After they wheel him out, Steve looks around, "My class."

"They're fine. Gareth's got 'em. Probably turning them into the next Ringo's as we speak."

Steve cracks a grin, but it's small, and not all there.

"C'mon," Eddie says, "you can watch me teach my beginner class, if you want, and then we'll go get something to eat. You look like you need it."

After checking in with his class first, Steve agrees, and that's how Steve Harrington, enemy number one, ends up sitting on a fitness ball, watching Eddie prepare to teach his kickboxing for beginners class.

There's an empty bag, and Steve nods towards it when Eddie circles past, "Can I?"

Eddie grins, "You want to?"

Steve nods, and Eddie nods back, helping him get set up. 

He's a natural, Eddie thinks, as he helps him make small adjustments, and then just lets him follow along. 

Maybe he's never done any kickboxing before, but he's clearly athletic. He follows Eddie's instructions well, is very flexible, and definitely not afraid to get to work. For a beginner his kicks are high, strong and confident. He's comfortable behind the bag, as he seems to be getting all his frustrations from the day out on the bag. Good. That's what he's supposed to do in here.

When the hour is up, he's dripping sweat, exhausted.

Steve's wiping his brow with the tail of his shirt, letting Eddie get a glimpse of his hairy belly. Not the right time, not the right person, Eddie has to remind himself. 

"Still want that breakfast?" Eddie asks.

"Hell, yes. I'm starving. That was a workout."

Eddie laughs, and follows him down the stairs and towards the locker room. 

They both shower, and today Eddie's not annoyed that he's in the stall next to him, not like he was on the treadmill. 

It's funny how a moment or two can change your whole perspective that you just assumed was set in stone.

They pass the front desk, scanning their keycards to sign out, and Robin stands, looking at Steve, clearly concerned. She's fidgeting, worrying her hands. 

"Are you okay? Chrissy said–"

"I'm good," he says, interrupting, reassuring her, and Eddie watches them interact. She comes around the desk and throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. 

He hugs her back, "Thanks, Rob. I needed that."

"You sure you're okay? Do you want me to find someone to cover–"

"Eddie's taking me to breakfast," Steve says, and Eddie does not miss the little widening her eyes do before she schools her face back to neutral. 

"Well, that's nice of you, Eddie," she says, and Eddie realizes he's been very, very wrong about whatever their dynamic is. She adores him, obviously. 

They hit the sidewalk, "So, Robin. Is she your…"

"Best friend. She's my best friend."

Eddie nods. That checks out. Steve was annoying her, but on purpose, mutually agreed upon nuisances, without a doubt.

They're best friends. He wasn't trying to pick her up against her will.

That's interesting.

Very interesting.

"Functional fitness," Steve says, sitting across from Eddie in the booth at the diner down the street from the gym, "it's for anybody, but I mainly teach seniors. It helps keep them mobile longer, and that makes me feel like I'm making a difference, you know?"

Eddie didn't know. Eddie had no idea what Steve was doing across the building, and had clearly assumed the worst, instead of the best of him.

He was wrong about Steve Harrington, he's pretty sure.

Steve keeps talking, "It helps them with everyday tasks, you know? Push, pull, carry. That kind of thing. So, I'll get younger participants that are rehabbing injuries, or that have chronic illnesses. But it mainly skews older, for sure. I never expected one of them to go down. I don't have them do novel movements over their hearts or anything, I swear."

Eddie nods. He's not sure what a novel movement is, not really.

"What a novel movement?" he asks.

"Well," Steve says, "it's like, something that you don't do everyday. A change. Shoveling snow. Shoveling snow is a novel movement, and that's why so many people unexpectedly die doing it."

Steve makes the motion for slinging a shovel full of snow over his shoulder, "So, like, I'm not making them do things like that."

"No shoveling snow in the gym, got it," Eddie says, teasing him a little, and Steve chuckles.

"You know what I mean," Steve says.

"I do," Eddie agrees. 

"I've never had that happen before," Steve then says quietly.

"And hopefully never again," Eddie comments. "It's not your fault. It's probably lucky for him he was with you. Best possible outcome if it had to happen."

Steve runs both of his hands down his face.

"Maybe."

Steve Harrington really isn't so bad, he supposes. He clearly cares a whole lot about what happened today.

The server puts down their plates, and they eat in silence, but it isn't uncomfortable.

Then Steve speaks again, "Thanks for helping, I was surprised to see you."

"Why?"

"You always seem so annoyed when I try to chat you up," Steve says.

Eddie can't really deny it. He has been annoyed. 

Wait.

Wait.

Was Steve trying to chat him up, chat him up? Like, flirting? Eddie wasn't reading flirting from him, that's for damn sure. 

Maybe he needs to pay better attention. That's been a common theme in his life, but usually about school, not attractive men that may or may not be interested in him.

"My bark is worse than my bite," Eddie settles on, and offers him a smile.

Steve laughs, his mood finally lifting, just a little, "Well, I hope not."

Holy shit. 

Eddie is such a goddamn idiot.

He's being flirted with. He's been being flirted with, for all the time he's known Steve Harrington.

Steve sits there for a minute, stirring his drink with his straw, knocking the ice around, "Do you think any of them will show up again?"

It takes Eddie a minute to parse his meaning, "Your class? Of course they will."

Steve rolls his shoulders in a non-convinced way.

"Steve. They know how old they are. You didn't do anything wrong."

Eddie doesn't know that. Not for sure. But he believes it to be true. He's just not sure how to prove it to him. Steve clearly cares too much to have done anything risky. 

Instead, Eddie asks, "When's your next class?" 

"Tomorrow."

"For the same people?"

"Some of them. Not everybody comes everyday."

"But some do?" Eddie asks.

"Some do," he confirms. "Usually, anyway. I have regulars. Vincent was a regular."

"Well," Eddie says, "I'll come. Then we'll know at least one person will be there. You took my class, so I should take yours. It's only fair."

Steve laughs, "It's not gonna be nearly as exciting as kickboxing."

Well, Steve's gonna be there. So, that sounds pretty exciting to Eddie.

The next day the class is as full as ever, Eddie suspects. And they're all kind to Steve, patting him on the back for saving their fellow classmate. He's stable in the ICU, and things are looking positive. Steve did good. He did real good.

The only discourse is a few of them trying to figure out how they're going to figure out the scheduling to take both Steve's functional fitness class and Gareth's cardio drumming. Eddie's pretty sure the kid is gonna have to add a senior class to his schedule again now that everyone got a preview of something they may have never tried on their own.

Eddie sidles up to their conversation, "I know Gareth. I'll make sure he schedules it so you can do both."

And just like that, he's won them over as well.

Steve gets started, and Eddie follows along with the routine Steve's leading. There are chairs for some of the less stable to hang onto, when needed, and it's just a thoughtful experience, honestly. Steve's kind, and funny, and they very clearly adore him.

He might not break a sweat, but he's really doing something special here. 

Eddie really hopes he'll get to tell him that later, over dinner, or drinks. Anything he wants, as long as Eddie can make up for lost time and for being a judgmental asshole for no good reason.

Steve grins, and Eddie smiles back as they get in place for the next rep in the set.  

Now, Eddie is certain that he wants to get outside of his comfort zone, outside of the box, when it comes to Steve Harrington.

Novel movements, indeed.

If you want to sign up for a future bingo event or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

Notes: I didn't know where this was going, but I knew I wanted to use "Eddie Munson" the prompt as his name being said by Steve. So I got as far as, "Eddie hates this dude more than anyone else at the _."

Where? Where are they? I wondered if I could find a randomizer for jobs, and just...see if that would produce an idea. I did, right here, and spun the wheel and got "personal trainer" which isn't exactly where this led, but it got them in the gym, and the rest of the story fleshed itself out from there.

[hawkinsbnbg]

love knot

And while Steve didn't like to be just a fling, either, he was content for now to be whatever suited Eddie's need.

A fuck buddy. A convenient outlet. A pretty face with an average sense of humor and a good enough hole.

A slut.

Written for @stmarchmm | prompts: Day 2: breeding • Day 3: love confession, Day 5: collaring • Day 10: rejection sickness • Day 11: scenting • Day 13: free use • Day 18: knotting • Day 31: marking/biting | word count: 12k3 | rated: E | ao3

For my @steddiebingo prompt: Morning sex

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

You get my motor running

Written for the day 27 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles, and for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Traffic & Handjobs

Rated: E

Tags: Established Relationship; Post-Vecna; Some vague references to PTSD; Handjobs; Semi-public sex

“Paper towels,” Steve barks, throwing himself into the passenger seat and slamming the door. A little avalanche descends off the van's roof. Eddie flinches back to attention. 

“That's a curse word I haven't heard before.”

Steve scowls, brushing snow from his hair. It leaves the carefully styled strands ruffled and sticking up at odd angles, giving him a slightly manic look. 

“Hilarious. There is a fucking truck lying in a ditch, like half a mile from here, paper towels all over the place. Police are waving the cars past, but there’s hundreds in front of us. It’ll be hours before we get out of here.” 

“Huh,” Eddie says.

“Yeah,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms. “Huh.”

They sit in silence for a while. 

“We should’ve gone yesterday,” Steve mutters. His leg starts twitching. “Everyone and their mother wants out of the city for the holidays, we should’ve known traffic would be fucking crazy. We’ll never make it to Hawkins on time at this rate. The others will-” 

“They’ll survive, Stevie,” Eddie says, catching his hand and running his fingers over his knuckles. They’re raw from the frosty air, dry skin coming off where Steve picked at it. A habit he's developed in the aftermath of everything, now that there's nothing left to punch, nothing left to go at with nail bats and axes and molotovs. “It's only Christmas dinner.” 

Steve’s fingers flex and Eddie knows he wants to argue, but then he sighs. 

“Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry, I'm just-” 

“Nervous,” Eddie says, tangling their fingers together. “I know, big boy.” 

It hasn't been easy for either of them, leaving Hawkins, but Eddie knows that it's been even harder for Steve. Steve, who's been involved in the Upside Down shit from the get-go, who's spent the better part of his teenage years fighting monsters - the fanged and clawed kind as well as the human-shaped ones. Who still wakes up screaming sometimes, throwing punches at the pillows, trying to protect his loved ones from threats that are long gone. 

“We'll be here for a while, honey,” Eddie says. “Nothing to be done about it. Just relax.” 

“I wish I could,” Steve groans, head thudding against the backrest, and fondness blooms in Eddie’s chest.

“Well,” he mutters, shifting his gaze back to the road, at the same time that his hand lets go of Steve’s fingers and travels to his thigh. “I think I can help you with that.” 

Steve gasps. Eddie stays focused on the road. He doesn’t need to turn his head to know there’s a blush slowly spreading over that pretty face.

“What are you doing?” Steve’s voice is a low, frantic hiss, but he makes no attempt to swat Eddie off. Eddie grins, shifting his hand just a little bit further upwards, and Steve bucks in his seat. “Are you insane? What if anyone sees?” 

“Well,” Eddie drawls, letting his eyes roam over the surrounding vehicles. Most of the drivers are staring off into space, some drumming their fingers to the sounds of their radios, some arguing with their passengers. Nobody is paying them any attention. His palm finds the bulge in Steve’s pants and cups it in a firm grip. “Guess we’ll just need to be subtle about it, huh?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how Steve’s face twitches as he silently weighs his options. 

“I mean, we could always wait and pull into a side road later,” Eddie shrugs. “But you said it yourself. It’ll be hours...” 

For a few seconds, the only sound is that of tires crunching on snow.

“You’re such an asshole,” Steve snaps, shimmying in his seat so that he can lift his hips and unzip his pants. “C’mon then, make it quick.” 

“Well, aren’t you generous?” Eddie coos, and reaches over. 

As far as handjobs go, it’s one of the odder ones he’s given. 

He needs to keep one hand on the steering wheel and his feet on the pedals, so the angle is awkward. He also can’t watch Steve’s face as he usually does, but they’ve been together long enough for his imagination to fill in the gaps. Steve makes a needy little noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper, rutting up into Eddie’s hand, and he can just imagine the way he flushes, the way he bites down on that pink bottom lip to keep louder sounds from spilling out. For all his initial reluctance, it takes him mere seconds to get hard, and soon his breathy whines are joined by the wet sound of his precome-slickened cock fucking in and out of Eddie’s palm.

Steve never believes him when he says it, but Eddie can feel his orgasm coming before he himself does. He’s learned to read the little telltale signs - the stutter of his hips, the minute hitch of his breath, the way his cock starts twitching in anticipation. Today is no exception. 

“Shit, I’m gonna-” Steve moans, trying to jerk away, to tuck himself back in, but Eddie makes a soft shushing sound and tightens his grip, keeping him in place. Eyes trained at the snowflakes falling beyond the windshield, he lets Steve shake apart in his hold, head thrown back into a silent scream, spilling hot and wet all over Eddie’s hand and his pants and the seat. By the time his breathing evens out, the cars in front of them have started moving again. 

“Well?” Eddie asks, wiping his hand on his pants. “Relaxed now?” 

Steve huffs, a breathy and incredulous thing, but his features have gone soft and content.

“Relaxed and fucking filthy. How are you gonna explain the stains to the others, genius?” 

“Well,” Eddie winks. “Maybe someone up there can lend us a paper towel.” 

Steve almost makes him walk the rest of the way, but he thinks it’s well worth it.

More holiday drabbles

More Steddie Bingo

[fkinkindagauche]

The Queerest of the Queer

This bad boy right here is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo ("watersports") and @stmarchmm (day 6 - "alpha/alpha"). Thank you to the Nonny who wrote pussy inspection for introducing me to the fine concept of submissive urination. You're out there doing the lord's work and not even taking credit for it. Also many thanks to @dame-zoom-a-lot for helping me brainstorm what alphas would do with piss using their knowledge of dogs.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Word Count: 3.5K

Content Warnings: Watersports (obviously, that was the prompt and I did not decide to be cute and make it about jet skis, I made it definitely about piss), mildly dubious consent, under-negotiated kink, unsafe sex

Additional Tags: Alpha/Alpha, Possessive Sex, Possessive Behavior, Submissive Urination, Biting, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones (or maybe overtones?), Top Eddie Munson, Bottom Steve Harrington, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Spit As Lube (but also lube as lube), AU - No Upside Down, Scruffing, Restraint by scruffing

Summary:

"Hold on. I've got something for you." Eddie gave his arm a squeeze, almost hard enough to be painful. "Something special." "Drugs?" Steve asked, confused. "Something like that." Eddie glanced around the hallway, then back to Steve. His eyes flicked up and down Steve's body, ending up at Steve's lips. "But we need to go somewhere private." ===== Steve gets something he didn't even know he needed from Eddie.

Can be read on AO3, but I will also be putting the full fic below!

Steve watched Eddie from across the crowded room as the other boy handed off a few joints and pocketed the cash he got in return. Steve's eyes tracked the way Eddie's shoulders moved under his ragged black shirt, the way the tattoos on his ribs peeked out from the large, cut-out armholes. Eddie had acquired another piercing since the last time Steve had seen him, on the helix of his right ear. Steve licked his lips, wondering if there were even more beneath the clothes.

Eddie looked up sharply, like he could sense Steve's gaze on him. His eyes immediately found Steve's. A slow, wicked smile spread across his mouth as he caught Steve staring. He winked, then turned away to another customer.

Steve hadn't expected Munson to end up in Bloomington with him. Hell, Steve hadn't even expected to end up at college himself, but here they both were - Steve the frat boy majoring in business and Eddie the drug dealer majoring in… fuck if Steve knew.

They hadn't interacted much back in Hawkins; Steve only bought from him a few times, and their social circles hadn't overlapped. But Steve had always found the other alpha fascinating, and that hadn't changed when they'd started college. The fascination had only grown.

It seemed mutual. Though they hadn't spoken more than a few words since they both started at IU, they'd been circling each other for months. Drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. Steve wasn't sure if he was the moth or the flame. The fluttering in his stomach implied moth.

Steve left the room, circulating around the party. He chatted for a few minutes with Nancy. They were much better at being friends than they'd ever been at being romantic partners. While they were talking, he caught sight of Eddie again, and couldn't stop himself from staring.

"Earth to Steve!" Nancy said, waving a hand in front of his face. She looked over her shoulder at where Steve's gaze had been directed. "Why are you always staring at Munson?" she asked, her nose scrunched up in distaste.

Steve forcibly removed his eyes from Eddie. "I'm not always staring at him!" he protested. "I wasn't even staring at him now. I was just spacing out. You're boring."

"Mmmhmm. Sure." Nancy didn't sound convinced.

Steve was feeling warm and overwhelmed. The way he always felt when Eddie was around. "I need a breather," he said, turning to leave the room. "See you in a bit."

He was in his own frat house, and knew where to go to get away from most of the crowd. He stepped into what they called the library, although there were no books. It was just a room they used for studying. Tonight, it was occupied by a couple making out on a couch, and a group of omega girls giggling by a window while they passed around a joint.

The girls all looked at Steve when he walked in, gazes assessing him. He knew a few of them in passing, though he couldn't remember any names.

"Steve!" one of the girls called, sidling over to him. She put a hand on his arm, and her cloyingly sweet omega scent wafted up at him. "I was hoping you'd be here tonight."

"I do live here," Steve replied. He should be nicer, but her scent was already irritating him. As an alpha, he was supposed to love the smell of omegas. But his whole life they'd just smelled… wrong. He'd gravitated toward betas for all of his romantic and sexual partners because he couldn't stand the scent of any omega he'd ever met.

He'd never told anyone, always pretended to love the smell during the crass conversations about it with his fellow alphas. He didn't want to be branded a freak. A freak like Eddie Munson, who was well known for preferring other alphas as his sexual partners.

The girl giggled and squeezed his arm. "Oh, that's right, you do live here! What floor is your room on?"

She was blatantly angling for Steve to take her to his room. He shook off her arm with a sigh. "Sorry, just realized I forgot something," he said, vaguely waving a hand around.

He bolted out of the library, running straight into another person. It took his brain less than a second to realize who the person was. Steve's nostrils were filled with the sharp scent of another alpha, and one he recognized well. Eddie.

Eddie steadied Steve with a hand on his upper arm, grinning at him. "Harrington," Eddie drawled. "Fancy meeting you here."

"This is my frat," Steve replied with a frown.

"Mmhmm," Eddie intoned. "Should've known you'd end up a frat boy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve demanded. This was more than they'd probably ever spoken to each other, and Eddie was being kind of a dick. Steve crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

Eddie shrugged. "Pretty boy like you, and such a strong alpha. Perfect for a frat." The words were ostensibly all complimentary, but the way Eddie said them made Steve feel like he was being mocked. Eddie reached up and tucked a strand of Steve's hair behind his ear, fingers trailing over Steve's neck dangerously close to his scent gland.

Steve flushed. His stomach swooped out from under him, like a trapdoor had opened beneath his feet and he was plummeting into a pit. He knew his scent was spiking with the sweet hints of his own arousal, but he couldn't stop it. He shouldn't be feeling this way about another alpha. It was confusing, his instincts all tangled up in a knot in his belly.

"Something wrong, Stevie?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to one side.

Steve gulped. "N- no. I'm fine. I should get back to the party."

Eddie grabbed his upper arm, stopping Steve from walking away. A thrill ran through Steve as he was physically overpowered.

"Hold on. I've got something for you." Eddie gave his arm a squeeze, almost hard enough to be painful. "Something special."

"Drugs?" Steve asked, confused.

"Something like that." Eddie glanced around the hallway, then back to Steve. His eyes flicked up and down Steve's body, ending up at Steve's lips. "But we need to go somewhere private."

Steve nodded slowly. "My room," he whispered, voice barely audible.

Eddie looked pleased. "Perfect," he purred.

Steve led the way to the ostentatious staircase in the lobby, then up to his bedroom. He'd locked the door like he usually did before a party, not wanting anyone to fuck in his bed. He opened it, letting Eddie in. Eddie closed the door behind him, and clicked the lock shut.

Eddie's scent had changed subtly while they made their way up to Steve's room. Steve could smell something earthier and deeper now, hinting at arousal. It was one of the best things Steve had ever smelled. He wanted to bury his face in Eddie's neck and inhale deeply.

Instead, he stood in the middle of his room, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. Eddie stared at him. His gaze was intense, almost predatory. He licked his lips and took a step toward Steve.

Steve took a step back. "Wh- what did you want to give me?" Steve stammered.

Eddie took another step forward. Steve stepped back. "Something I think you've been wanting for a long time."

"What?" Steve whispered. He was terrified, and so horny he thought he was going to pass out. He'd never known those two emotions could coexist so well.

Eddie took two larger steps towards him. Steve tried to back up further, but his back hit the wall behind him. Eddie kept coming until he was standing directly in front of Steve, then slammed his hands into the wall on either side of Steve's head.

Steve flinched. Eddie leaned forward, face so close to Steve's that Steve could feel each puff of breath from his mouth.

"Me," Eddie whispered. "Wanna give you myself."

"I d- don't -"

Eddie put two fingers to Steve's lips. "Shhh. You don't have to pretend with me. I know what you need."

"You do?" Steve breathed. He wanted it. He wanted it so badly. Someone else to take control. Someone else to give him what he needed. Someone else to know what it was he needed, because Steve sure as shit didn't know.

"Yeah, Stevie. You need me to be your Alpha."

Steve moaned at the words. They went straight to his cock, fully hard now in his jeans. He couldn't remember ever being this aroused before. He wanted to let Eddie mount him, let Eddie claim him. He involuntarily bared his neck, tilting his head to the side to give Eddie access. He felt the other man's breath ghost over his scent gland, where a mating bite would go. Eddie licked the skin over the gland, drawing an embarrassing keen out of Steve. Then he sealed his mouth around the gland and sucked, hard.

Steve's brain went fuzzy, like static on a TV. Part of him, the alpha part, was raging inside his chest, screaming at him to fight back, to push away, to rip and tear and bite. But all the rest of him, the deepest most shameful core of his being, ached to submit. He went completely limp, ceding control to Eddie, the Alpha.

He felt warmth spreading in his jeans, and the smell of piss filled the air around them.

Eddie let go of his neck, leaning back to stare at Steve with awe on his face.

Steve's face burned as he realized what had just happened. Submissive urination. He'd heard of it, but had never experienced it, from either side of the equation. He'd just pissed himself. There went his fantasies for the night. Eddie was probably never going to speak to him again.

"Oh, you're perfect," Eddie announced, interrupting Steve's shame spiral. And then he fell to his knees in front of Steve and pressed his face into Steve's piss-soaked jeans. Eddie took a deep breath with his nose buried in Steve's crotch, then threw his head back and shuddered, his eyes closed and a look of intense pleasure on his face.

He opened his eyes after a few moments, gaze settling on Steve's. "I knew you'd be perfect," he said, voice almost a growl. He unbuttoned Steve's jeans and pulled the zipper down. His hands left Steve's waist briefly to tug off both of Steve's shoes and throw them across the room. Then he yanked Steve's jeans and boxers down in one go, pulling Steve's left leg up and out of them and throwing the leg over his own shoulder.

Eddie dove his head down to Steve's cock. It should be gross, it was wet with his own piss, but that just seemed to make Eddie want it more. He took most of Steve's cock into his mouth in one go, sucking hard. Steve cried out and grabbed handfuls of Eddie's curls. Eddie bobbed his head up and down at a frantic pace. Steve was overwhelmed by the rush of sensation. His balls pulled up as an orgasm built at an alarming rate.

"Eddie, I'm gonna -" Steve began. Eddie pulled off immediately with an obscene popping sound. Then he stood abruptly, a hand coming out to cup Steve's balls and squeeze hard enough to hurt. Steve loved it.

"We can't have that," Eddie said with a mean grin. "Not until I've had my fun." He grabbed Steve by the wrist and tugged him toward the bed. "Shirt off," Eddie instructed. Steve scrambled to comply, tearing his shirt over his head.

He was naked now, while Eddie was fully clothed. He felt an urge to cover himself with his hands. He reached down with a hand and Eddie slapped it away. "None of that. I'm your Alpha. I get to look at you."

A blush spread over Steve's chest all the way up to his face. Fuck, this was really doing it for him, in a way no sex ever had before.

"On the bed," Eddie demanded. "Hands and knees, ass facing me."

Steve climbed onto his bed, maneuvering himself so he was facing away from Eddie. He heard the jingling of the chains on Eddie's jeans as he walked up to the bed. His hand landed on Steve's hip, gently stroking.

"Anyone ever fucked you in the ass, Stevie?" Eddie asked, his voice calm, like he wasn't even particularly interested in the answer.

Steve let out a stuttering breath. In all honesty, Steve hadn't even considered anal sex until about five minutes ago. "N- no," he stammered.

"Good," Eddie said. He sounded pleased. "Want it to just be my ass."

Steve moaned. He wanted that. He wanted it so bad. Without conscious thought, he pressed his chest and face into the bed and arched his back, sticking his ass into the air further.

"Oh, you like that," Eddie teased with a chuckle. He put one hand on each ass cheek. Steve felt the cold bite of all of Eddie's rings against the hot skin of his ass. Eddie pulled his cheeks apart, then paused with Steve's asshole exposed to the air. He must be looking. Steve shuddered.

Eddie leaned forward and made a noise deep in his throat. A drop of warm liquid hit Steve directly on his asshole. Spit. He keened and pressed his ass back even further. He was presenting, like a fucking omega.

One of Eddie's fingers joined the spit, dragging it around Steve's asshole. He pushed against the rim without pressing in for what felt like ages, just massaging lightly. Finally, the finger slipped in to the first knuckle, punching a breathy moan out of Steve.

It somehow managed to feel simultaneously uncomfortable and delightful. Eddie worked the finger in and out, gradually fitting more in. Steve heard rustling behind him and then felt cool gel spreading over his asshole and Eddie's finger. Eddie threw something to the floor beside them - a packet of lube.

"You had lube in your pocket?" Steve asked, incredulous.

"I've been carrying lube to every party I knew you'd be at for months," Eddie replied, nonchalant, like he had no idea what that statement did to Steve. He slid a second finger into Steve before Steve could reply.

"Fuck," Steve muttered, shifting uncomfortably as he tried to adjust to the stretch. He felt an increase in anxiety as his hindbrain reacted to him being in such a vulnerable position in front of another alpha. He moved his head to the side and snapped his teeth against nothing.

"You still want this, Stevie?" Eddie asked, right at the same time as he switched the angle of his fingers and hit a spot inside of Steve that sent bolts of pleasure through his lower belly.

"Y- yes," Steve panted. Then he growled. His fucking instincts were getting in the way. "I just - it's hard."

"Mmm," Eddie hummed. He grabbed the nape of Steve's neck with one hand, wrapping strong, beringed fingers tightly around it, and pressed his face into the bed. "That help?"

Miraculously, it did. He hadn't been scruffed since he was a kid, and had forgotten the bone-deep laxity that came in its wake. He relaxed more than he had in years. He would have slumped down onto the bed if Eddie's other hand hadn't still been buried in his ass, holding him up.

"There. Knew you'd go down easy," Eddie said. "Gonna need one more yes, though." Eddie leaned over Steve, draping himself across his back to whisper directly into his ear. "You want me to fuck you with my cock, Stevie?"

Steve moaned unintelligibly but encouragingly.

"Words, baby," Eddie prodded.

"Yessssss," Steve hissed. "Fuck me with your cock, Alpha."

Eddie growled and bit down on the muscles of Steve's shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. Steve yelped, his body jolting. The movement pressed Eddie's fingers against that spot again, and the yelp turned into a groan of pleasure.

Eddie pushed himself up and resumed fingering Steve with intent. Every few pumps he scissored his fingers apart, opening Steve a little wider. "How's it feel? You like having my fingers in your ass?"

"Yes, yes," Steve mumbled. "Love it."

Eddie added a third finger. Steve sighed as his body adjusted to the additional stretch. "You're taking it so well, baby. Like you were made for this."

He was, wasn't he? This is what he'd been missing, this is why sex had always felt so… boring. He'd needed this. He'd needed to be handled.

Eddie removed his fingers, and the hand on Steve's neck. Steve whined, moving his ass back more. Eddie slapped one of his ass cheeks. "Patience, you greedy little slut," he scolded.

Steve heard shuffling behind him, a zipper being unzipped. The bed dipped between his legs, then he felt the press of Eddie's cock against his asshole.

His instincts reared up again at the perceived insult. He growled and snapped his teeth back over his shoulder. Eddie grabbed him by the back of the neck again and pressed his face back into the bed.

"We may need to get a muzzle if you're always gonna be this feisty," Eddie mused.

And, oh, wasn't that a thought? Eddie, putting him in a muzzle. Eddie doing this to him again.

With Steve's instincts subdued, Eddie was able to start sinking his cock slowly into him. It was a much more intense sensation than his fingers. Steve felt overly full at first, like it wasn't possibly going to fit. But his body adjusted, welcoming the intrusion. Eddie sank in all the way, pausing with his balls pressed tight against Steve's ass.

Steve's attention wandered to his own neglected cock, hanging hard and heavy between his legs. He tried to rut forward against the sheets, looking for some friction against his aching cock, but Eddie used his free hand to grip him by the hip and keep him from sinking to the bed.

Eddie started to move then. He moved slowly at first, gradually picking up his pace as Steve adjusted. He kept his hand firmly on the back of Steve's neck the whole time, keeping Steve in that lax, submissive headspace.

His thrusts increased in intensity, the loud sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room around them.

"Fuck, you're a dream, Stevie," Eddie muttered in between grunts. "Knew you would be. My little alpha bitch."

Steve felt like he might be able to come just from this - the relentless thrusting of Eddie's cock paired with the filth coming out of his mouth. But then it got even better - Eddie released Steve's hip and wrapped his hand around Steve's cock. It took an embarrassing two pumps, and Steve was coming with a loud scream, spilling onto his bedspread.

"Shit." Eddie let go of Steve's cock and put his free hand on the middle of Steve's back, beneath the hand still scruffing Steve. He pressed Steve into the bed as he pounded into him. "'M gonna come in your perfect little ass. Fill you up."

Steve's cock gave a valiant twitch as Eddie buried himself deep and came with a grunt, collapsing on Steve's back. He released Steve's neck, but Steve was deep enough in his post-orgasmic bliss that it didn't matter.

They lay there like that for a few minutes, their breathing settling until it was slow and in sync. Eventually, Eddie slid off of Steve, rolling to the side. Steve turned his head so he could look at Eddie.

Eddie's nose was wrinkled in displeasure. He stood up, cock still hanging out of his pants, and walked over to the chair beside Steve's bed. He bent and sniffed it.

"You have other alphas in your room often?" Eddie asked.

Steve sat up. "I mean, yeah? There are five other alphas in the frat. They come in here sometimes."

Eddie looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded.

He grabbed his cock, and peed in his hand. He took some of the cupped pee and drizzled it over the offending chair, then flicked it at Steve.

"What the fuck?" Steve sputtered.

"Just marking my territory," Eddie said with a grin. He tucked his cock back into his pants and zipped them up. "I gotta go sell the rest of my wares for the night, but I'll be back in an hour." He looked nervous for the first time that night. "If you want me."

Steve really shouldn't. All of this was so fucking weird. But he couldn't deny it. "Yeah. I want you."

Eddie's answering smile was bright and genuine. "See you in a bit, then."

Steve put his clothes back on after Eddie left, not wanting to get caught nude by random party-goers.

Nancy stomped in a few minutes after, shutting the door behind her. "Did I just see Eddie Munson leaving your room?"

She walked over to the chair and sat down before Steve could stop her. She immediately stood back up, her nose wrinkling as she glared down at the chair. "Did you pee in your chair?"

"Uhhh, I can explain," he started.

Her eyes looked like they were going to pop straight out of her head as she put two and two together. "Oh my god. Alphas are disgusting."

"I think I'm in love," Steve replied.

divider by @/saradika-graphics

[katyawriteswhump]

Second chance (soul)mates 💖

For @stmarchmm day 14 prompt, ‘Second chance romance’ (very late, I’m sorry, though this also sort of works with day 28, ‘broken mating bond,’ so I can pretend I’m early!) Also, @steddiebingo fill, ‘Tears for Fears.’

Some of the herbs/flowers come from amazing fantasy plant designs from @moonjelly69, please check them out here and here. They deserve to be at the heart of a fic of their own, but they helped me get this one going again—thank you 🪻🌹🌸🌺🌻🌼

Rating: M; WC: 4200; CW: Biting, bite-puncture licking, unhealed injuries, saliva as healing balm, rashes, collars, alcohol, sick fic, and passing mentions of drug dealing. Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, protective Eddie, sick Steve, hurt/comfort, angst with a very happy ending, herbal medicine, happy ever after. Read on Ao3

🌸💖🌸💖

When Eddie began dating Steve, Eddie was a senior the first time around, and they’d both recently presented their secondary genders.

In a High School drenched in blockers and dampeners, Steve’s dreamy magnolia musk whispered to Eddie. On their first date, they’d shared a black-cherry-and-vanilla sundae at a diner… and their first kiss behind the bike sheds had rocked Eddie’s world. Steve had practically liquified in Eddie’s arms, his perfume blending with Eddie’s tangy cherry and skullcap-herbs.

Unfortunately, they were young and dumb.

The night it ended, Steve threw a party—it was at his house, while his folks were out of town. He’d told Eddie it’d be kinda intimate, and Metallica was totally on the playlist. Eddie, idiot that he was, was actually looking forward to it.

And then he did something crazy.

He spent the afternoon picking flowers from Granny Munson’s garden, plucking the perfect blooms to match Steve’s scent. Then, with guidance from Granny, he foraged deep into the forest to locate herbs and deeply buried roots that matched his own.

It took so long to scrub the dirt off he was late for the party. By which time, Steve was doing shots with that obnoxious beta, Tommy H.

“They’re pretty,” said Steve, when Eddie presented the bouquet.

“Glad you like. The cherry blossom and herbs are from the forest. The wild crimson roses and the rest came from my gran’s garden, which is also in the forest, so—"

“Jesus, can’t afford a florist, Munson?”  Tommy snorted with laughter. Steve vaguely giggled, dumped the flowers in a bucket of melted ice then… apparently forgot about them.

Eddie was pissed, though perked up when Steve dragged him outside to make-out by the pool. Steve was buzzed, his delicate flavor fucked-up with vodka, so it wasn’t surprising he’d not paid attention to the bouquet’s scent. With Steve grinding against his thighs, his hands on Steve’s ass and his tongue delving for Steve’s tonsils, Eddie figured he’d moved on.

Steve kept drinking. They both kept drinking. And then, Steve started asking if Eddie loved him. Whining on and on about it, in fact.

That was when Eddie realised that he’d not quite forgiven Steve’s snub of the flowers.

Fuck, he was seventeen! No way was he gonna drop the l-bomb to some spoiled Omega brat bawling what were doubtless crocodile tears at him.

They wound up screaming at each other. Tommy H and the rest of the dickwads watched from the sidelines, stuffing candy and popcorn. Soon after, Steve threw up into a potted palm—with Eddie pausing in his anger to hold the Omega’s hair back and generally sooth him.

As soon as Steve recovered, he reverted to whimpering about love. Tommy put on Tears for Fears again—Nope, not a single Metallica track had made it onto the playlist. Still, the pop lyrics hit home. Right now, Eddie Munson would happily ‘turn his back on mother nature,’ and he was freakin’ thrilled ‘nothing ever lasts forever.’ He flipped the bird at his sulking Omega and stomped out of the Harrington’s, out of Steve’s life.

They barely talked through the next two years at High School, and any slight whiff Eddie caught of Steve scent made him wanna lose his shit.

Steve graduated. Soon after, Eddie heard he’d gotten engaged to some hotshot banker. Which, for reasons Eddie didn’t want to analyse too hard, made him want to punch a hole in a breezeblock wall. Eddie scraped through graduation the same year as Gareth, then decided he was through with Hawkins.

He said goodbye to Wayne, took off in his van with his guitar and his dreams.

Neither of which made him any cash. But hey, he dealt pot like the stealthy pro he was. He got by. He even peddled legal herbs from his van, courtesy of Granny Munson’s teaching and notes, which she’d bequeathed to him when she sadly passed.

Every few months, he turned his van back toward Hawkins to check in on Wayne. He was heading that way, when he strolled into a liquor store in some small town south of the Indiana state line.

And performed the most profound double-take of his life.

Yeah, that sad, little Omega hunched at the checkout was Steve Harrington.

Eddie’s eyes didn’t lie. Neither did his nose, which caught the faintest whiff of Steve’s fragile magnolia scent, which was, somehow, totally soured and simply off.

Eddie instantly spotted one reason why. Steve wore an ugly brown-leather collar, which smothered his throat from collarbone to chin. Wow! This was fucking incredible! Only the worst kind of trad parents forced chastity collars on Omegas these days. Fired by an anger and protectiveness that blindsided him, Eddie grabbed a random six-pack and made a beeline for the checkout. By which time, Steve had noticed Eddie. A blush spread up the Omega’s too-pale cheeks.

 Eddie plonked down his six-pack. “Hey.”

“Hey! Wow. It’s, uh, great to see you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s fixed-feeling grin concealed how his heart ached. Okay, the hair was still pretty cool. The rest of Steve? His cheekbones were never that sharp before. The shadows beneath his eyes were stark as bruises, and frankly he looked sick.

“You just gonna stare? ‘Cos, ya know, getting creepy.” Steve winced and tugged his collar.

Eddie shook himself out of his fury and grief-drenched trance.

“Great to see you too. Kinda surprised to see you working here, that’s all. Thought you got married?”

“Let’s just say that didn’t work out as planned,” said Steve, keying the price into the register. “That’s three dollars ninety-five, please. Should probably ask for ID, but…”  He rolled his eyes. “Not like I don’t know how old you are. It’s been, what, four years? You graduated yet?”

Eddie shrugged, any words jamming behind his clenching teeth. With every passing moment, he grew more furious at seeing Steve so blatantly uncared for. Worse, Steve would sense that anger, without knowing what it was about. The Omega’s eyes grew saucer-huge. Eddie conjured a tight smile and presented a five-dollar bill:

“When do you clock off? Would be cool to catch up. How ‘bout I buy you dinner at that diner across the street?”

Steve jolted and actually squeaked.

“No pressure,” added Eddie.

The woman behind Eddie in the queue started huffing and hassling them. Eddie glared at her. Steve passed Eddie his change in silence, and his hopes faded. Till Steve shoved the six-pack at him, whispering, “I finish at seven.”

Eddie waited in the diner, watching from across the street. At 7.17, Steve hadn’t shown up and Eddie… Nope, he wasn’t angry, not with Steve. He wasn’t that seventeen-year-old knot-head anymore. He was beating himself up more than anything. Had he scared Steve off with his anger at seeing the Omega so… unloved.

Steve said that his marriage hadn’t worked out. That didn’t mean he wasn’t stuck in a bad marriage where some son-of-a-bitch husband made him wear that collar for punishment, or simply to keep other Alphas at bay. Then again, Eddie hadn’t spied a wedding ring, so did Steve’s parents force the collar upon him? That had been Eddie’s primary hunch, although, as far as he knew, Steve’s parents still lived in Hawkins.

Eddie was revved up to serve any of them a knuckle sandwich. That said, if Steve didn’t want to meet him, he must accept it. He was only shocked at how much that idea pained him.

He paid for his coffee, left the diner. That’s when a faint thread of Steve’s scent hooked him—horribly soured, more than even earlier. Eddie followed his nose around the back of the store where Steve worked, and located the Omega crouched between two dumpsters, which were kinda stinky, though Eddie easily blotted those out. All his senses fixated on Steve.

Steve, meanwhile, must’ve sensed Eddie's approach, because he didn’t startle. He was trying, with trembling hands, to buckle his chastity collar back on.

“Hey, it’s okay. Do you need help, Honey? What are you doing here?” Eddie crouched at Steve’s side, and Steve dropped the collar, instead covering his face with both his hands. Eddie shoved his face closer to the Omega’s throat, because… “Holy crap!”

Steve’s collar had concealed an angry red rash. At its heart was two weeping bite holes. They looked like they could be recent, and… Fuuuuuck! This was why Steve’s perfume was so ruined. He reeked not only of sorrow and rejection. His own scent was polluted with the acrid-protein marker of whatever a-hole Alpha had sunk their dirty fangs into Steve’s sensitive gland, munching deep as those preciously quivering veins.

“It’s so gross. I’m so gross!” Steve crumpled forward into a ball, sliding his knees up to hug them. “My skin gets so itchy and scabby,” he mumbled. “I had to take it off, just to breathe, and…  Seriously, I was doing you a favor, standing you up. Dinner would’ve been nice and all, but I don’t feel so good, and… Get lost, Eddie. You’ve seen the truth. I’m fucking ruined.”

“Ruined? I never gave a crap about that conformity BS, remember? And you could never, ever be gross to me.” It was true. Even now, his inner Alpha wanted to blanket the Omega with his body, to smother this Omega’s pain and sorrow until they were distant nightmares, and after that..? Nope, those thoughts were forbidden-fucking-fruit right now.  Very gently, he laid a hand on the Omega’s shoulder. “I can’t ditch you like this. How about a ride home? If you’re not comfortable with that, I can call you a taxi?”

“My bike’s not far away,” sniffed Steve, peeping up. “I’ll be fine.”

No way could the Omega cycle anywhere in this palpably trembling state. In the end, when Eddie refused to leave him up some dingy alleyway, Steve said he’d prefer Eddie gave him a ride: “No taxi driver would take me anywhere stinking like this.”

It was probably true. Though, to Eddie’s nose, Steve and all his hurts didn’t smell terrible, only tragic. Eddie helped Steve to his van, the Omega leaning heavily against him.

After Eddie collected Steve’s bike, they headed off. They chitchatted about High School and anybody they’d kept in touch with, until Steve, between giving directions, said, “Guess you wanna know how I fucked up my life. Don’t worry, you’re allowed to piss yourself laughing.”

Eddie wanted to growl, I would never! Instead, he struggled not to howl with rage, as Steve spilled his sad tale.

He’d gotten engaged soon after graduation to one of his mom’s business partners. He’d courted Steve with lavish gifts, and silky vows, and Steve had liked him well enough. Enough to let the Alpha plant a claim mark on his gland, before they were actually wed.

Then a business deal fell through, and Steve’s fiancé got the hell out of Dodge.

Steve gingerly fingered a couple of raw-looking blisters under his chin. “So yeah, believe it or not, these marks are over two years old. My parents made me wear the chastity collar while they healed. They wanted to deny it ever happened and get me back on the marriage market… but the punctures never knitted. Happens sometimes, when you’re rejected with a shit-ton of Alpha protein-marker in your blood. So, yeah, I was dispatched here to live with my aunt. Now I have to wear the collar because nobody employs a single Omega with gaping bite holes.” He snickered joylessly. “What a joke. Everyone knows it means the opposite. Might as well have a neon sign above my head flashing, Cheap Omega slut! Oh hey, turn right here, thanks. My aunt’s place is three blocks along.”

Eddie rounded the corner, then pulled up at the kerbside, jerking the handbreak viciously.

“What are you doing?” asked Steve, tremulous.

“Nothing, if you don’t want. Firstly, you didn’t fuck up your life, Steve. None of what I’ve heard was your fault. Secondly, you must know better than me that if your bites never heal, you’re gonna be sick and weak pretty much all the time. You are sick, and look, I reckon I can help you. Listen, I sell herbs, and—” His turn to snicker—"not all of them are illegal. I got recipes for all kinds of natural medicines and a ton of jars and dried plant stuff in the back. Will you let me mix you something?”

Steve crinkled his nose then sniffed. “Okay, shoot. Thanks. You can see how the dumb collar irritates my skin. It’ll keep me awake for sure, and I’m sooo fucking exhausted all the time.”

Eddie went around to the rear of the van and opened the panel between his stash and the front seats. In the aftermath of what had to be a blast of crazy herb odors, he poked his head through.

“Wow! So many amazing smells.” Steve twisted to meet Eddie’s gaze and quirked a slight smile. “Yours isn’t so bad either, tho’ I… haven’t been able to stomach cherries since we split.”

Eddie beamed dopily, and his tongue wettened across his lips. Maybe he’d try and coax Steve to have that dinner with him tomorrow.

“Look, gonna come clean,” said Steve. “The bites tend to flare up bad when an attractive Alpha wanders into the store. Like, they’re trying to repel anyone interested away from fucked-up little me, I guess.”

The sadness returned to Steve’s voice, which only steeled Eddie’s resolution to ask for… Screw it, he was gonna ask for a date.

It was too dark to read in the back of the van. He shoved a stained and dog-eared notebook through to Steve:

“Right, here’s Granny Munson’s medicine notes. Try under A or B for ‘Alpha bites,’ or ‘bite scars.’ Or we could try C for ‘claiming marks.’” The sudden sour wave of distress from the Omega was among the worst Eddie had detected yet. “Steve, what is it?”

“Those flowers you brought me… that night. They were from her garden, right? Your granny.” Steve’s voice wobbled, and he turned sharply away. “In the morning, once I’d stopped feeling so shitty, I smelled them. They were beautiful, and the herbs, they reminded me of… Oh crap, you’d matched our scents. It was incredible, and I wanted to apologise. I was such an idiot. I-I nearly said sorry, so many times. I was too proud… Such an idiot!”

“Hey, it’s all good. We’re all good now.” Eddie reached to give Steve a little squeeze, relieved when the Omega leaned into his touch. “I was a douche that night. It was only three little words you wanted to hear, and with parents like yours… I get it, ’kay?”

Now I know how horribly they treated you.

“I didn’t deserve it,” said Steve, wiping his tired-looking eyes. “Glad you didn’t lie. I’ve… thought about you a lot, you know, over time.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

In fact, as Eddie well knew, those six weeks with Steve remained the longest relationship he had ever had.

Steve read out the ingredients, including heart-fruit and bitter midnight-bloom nettles. Eddie mixed them in his mortar and pestle, adding spring-water and soothing cucumber-like water-way to lessen any sting. Then a pinch of one of his own staples, skullcap, for good luck. He returned to the driver’s seat, showed the paste to Steve, who scented it curiously. “You wanna spread it on? Or should I?”

“I’m fine with you. I’ll only make a mess. As long as you’re not too grossed out?”

“Nope.” Only grossed out that somebody could leave you in pain like this.

He frowned in concentration, using his fingertips to smear the herbs across Steve’s sad skin. Steve shivered.

“Cold?”

“No,” breathed Steve, “it’s nice. Soothing. Erm… The notebook said you leave it for a minute or so, and we’re done. I’ll get outta your hair.”

“Noooo rush.”

Eddie applied the rest of the paste as delicately as he could. Steve sank back into the seat, eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you, Alpha. Soooo nice.”

His voice shook with something that might’ve been a faint comfort purr, and Eddie revelled in it. With Steve’s eyes closed, Eddie even sneaked a suck of his fingertips—yum—before wiping them dry on a Kleenex. Easing an Omega’s pain always made him happy, and soothing this Omega’s pain?

It made his chest puff with intense and super-protective feelings, though one thing didn’t sit right. A minute didn’t sound long enough for the medicine to work. He plucked the notebook from the Omega’s lap to doublecheck.

Steve startled awake. “Oh crap! No, please. You don’t have to do the rest.”

“The rest of wh… Ah!”

Eddie’s eyes raced across granny’s ink-splatted handwriting, and his brows shot high. For the herbs to work best, an Alpha should lick the paste off, mingling their saliva with the medicine. The page also explained how an unwanted Alpha’s protein mark could be erased completely from an Omega’s blood.

“Oookay,” said Eddie, rubbing Steve’s arm, hoping to allay his obvious panic. “If it’s all right with you, I’m happy to do the honors licking it off. I’m afraid to suck out the protein marker, it says I have to be in rut, so—”

“I wouldn’t dream of you having to do that. Simply the thought of licking me must be totally disgusting for you.”

“Gonna be honest. You look kinda tasty.” Eddie beamed toothily and sliced up a hand, silencing any protests. “Not a lie, Honey. Oh, and if I’m gonna have the pleasure of licking your scent gland, I really think we should try again for dinner tomorrow. If you’d like that? A date?”

Steve puffed his hair from his clammy brow. “Yeah, all right. Only if you let me pay.”

“We’ll argue that one out tomorrow. Now, how do we get comfy to do this?”

After some debate and wrangling, and some abortive leaning over the gear-knob, Eddie came around to the passenger seat. Steve slid onto his lap and hooked an arm loosely around Eddie’s neck. Eddie enfolded Steve and found himself perfectly aligned to burrow into the Omega’s throat. Steve kinda fidgeted, started protesting that this was too yuck again.

“Ssssssh, I got this. Relax, Honey.” He couldn’t keep a raspy growl from his voice. “Can you do that for me?”  Steve answered with an adorable little whine. Those years of separation began falling away, and he sagged against Eddie with a faintly floral sigh.

“That’s it, Omega. Take it easy. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Eddie settled one hand in Steve’s soft hair, fingers lightly threading, and rested the other in the small of the Omega’s back. He drew Steve to him, nuzzled beneath the Omega’s ear, and simply breathed him in. “You smell divine,” he whispered, sliding his nose lower so he could drag his tongue tenderly up over Steve’s sad little scent gland.

The bitter tinges of sickness couldn’t disguise how Steve was—always had been—beyond edible to him. His own skullcap musk—mixed with the earthy-kick of the healing herbs and heart-fruit—perfectly complimented Steve’s natural spring-petal nectar. The worst of the roughness and swelling on Steve’s skin seemed to smooth out beneath his tongue, and… Gnnnnng!

Steve’s whole weight suddenly collapsed into him, and Steve flopped his head back, eyes heavy-lidded, bearing his throat completely. The Omega’s prey instincts were kicking in, as were Eddie’s predatory ones. It was all he could do to stop his Alpha fangs quickening and piercing the Omega anew. Thank fuck they were fully clothed! Even so, if he did this long enough, maybe he would go into rut.

Cool it, Munson. You’re here to heal and protect.

He pulled back, effortfully calming his own racing blood, cradling Steve’s drooping head, while savoring the Omega’s contented, faintly purring, sighs. Eddie licked around his own mouth—yum YUM—and swallowed. Calm-ish again, he planted his lips over the quivering heat of that now pretty much uncovered gland with those evil little holes. He lapped leisurely, up and down, lathing far as the super-sensitive flesh beneath Steve’s ear.

When Steve mewled and whined, Eddie couldn’t help it—his Alpha dick stood swiftly to attention. Steve, meanwhile, turned more liquidy than ever, perfuming adorably as during that first never-forgotten kiss. So long ago.

Too long ago.

Briefly, Eddie struggled against a fiery anger. Since they’d split, apart from that son-of-a-bitch who’d hurt him, Steve must’ve been starved of much-needed intimacy like this. No wonder he was sick. Still, Eddie shoved down those thoughts, because the last thing he wanted was to scare the Omega on his lap with more angry vibes.

If Steve tensed, however, it was fleeting, and soon they relaxed into a relatively chaste rhythm. Eddie noticed that each time he stopped lapping to exhale, Steve snatched a swift inhale. Yup, they were literally inhaling each other, and as they did, Eddie felt something inside him untwist and release. As if Steve healed some restless part of his soul he didn’t realize needed fixing.

Soon, every trace of the herbs was gone and all he tasted was Steve’s natural sweetness. The bite-holes seemed to have knitted slightly already and were definitely less raw and weepy. Eddie drew a final, lingering inbreath, which tingled deep as his lungs, then reluctantly drew back. Steve dropped his head to Eddie’s shoulder and cuddled around his neck.

 “Better now, Honey?” whispered Eddie.

“Much better, Alpha,” said Steve sleepily.

Eddie huddled the Omega closer, barely resisted kissing his flushed pink cheek beneath those long fluttering lashes. All those feelings from their teen romance were fully returned, this time, so much more intense and real. Trouble was, Steve wasn’t just the sweetest smelling Omega Eddie had ever met. He was, Eddie knew now for sure, the one he’d die to protect and, also, without rival, the hottest.

Which presented other problems. As while licking, Eddie tried to keep himself calm and cool—after all, Steve was still kinda unwell! Didn’t work. He still nursed a constant semi, which no fidgeting or adjustment could hide.

Steve didn’t seem freaked, though. Quite the opposite.

He snuggled against Eddie for a while, and Eddie could’ve happily nested down for the year. That Steve could trust like this, after everything… It kinda made Eddie want to weep. Unfortunately, a cop eventually knocked on their window to ask what the heck they were up to. After giving away half his marijuana stock as a bribe, Eddie reluctantly took Steve back to his aunt, who freaked out big-time that Steve was being brought home by a strange Alpha. She thawed when Steve wearily explained Eddie was an old school friend and cheered up no end when she noticed Steve’s neck.

While still angry and red, the wounds had one-hundred-percent closed up, and Steve’s rash had faded to a faint cherry flush.

She invited Eddie in for supper, and the next day, Eddie and Steve had that dinner. By the third date, Steve had ditched the collar and wore a rollneck sweater. By the fourth, he wore a silky magnolia scarf Eddie gifted him, which got accidentally dipped in their cherry sundae. Between their dates, Eddie invited Steve back to his van and gave him several more doses of medicine. And of Alpha tongue. And of other kinds of fun, though Eddie was already making plans to offer something better than a van for his Omega’s first real nest.

A few weeks into their courtship, they sat facing each other across a booth in the diner. Steve unfolded a piece of paper from his purse, and a bunch of dried petals tumbled from between.

Magnolia flower, cherry blossom, and wild crimson rose, its petals still mottled and rough.

“They’re from the bouquet you gave me that night we split. I pressed them and saved them—couldn’t bear to see them all die. Thought I was just torturing myself, until—"

Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands and kissed him, thoroughly and claimingly, and above all, nurturing and lovingly. Everything Steve deserved. Everything he’d been denied.

Everything, Eddie realized, he’d denied himself too.

“There’s something I need to say,” said Eddie, when they finally broke for air. “I’m in love with you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve blinked. “Huh?”

“Steve, I love you.” He caressed Steve’s not-that-surprised face with his thumbs, then stooped to nip a kiss on Steve’s delicious throat. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Deep down, I know I always loved you, we were just…”

“…young and dumb? Yeah, we were. And you were totally wrong when you said I didn’t fuck up my life, because I did. That night we split up.”

“We both fucked up, Honey.”

“I guess. Oh, in case it wasn’t screamingly obvious… I love you too, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie went into rut a week later, pulling Steve simultaneously into heat. The very first time they made love, he nipped the flesh of Steve’s shoulder, deep enough to suckle out that other Alpha’s wretched protein marker. The second time, with Steve gasping and begging for it, he bit Steve’s throat all over again, sealing the forever bond that already sang between them.

Steve was thrilled with his two pretty pink claim marks. When they returned to Hawkins to set up their alternative medicine business, he proudly displayed them to everyone, including his parents, who swiftly left town. Nobody missed them. Steve’s sensitive Omega nose soon led them to Granny Munson’s garden, beside her old tumbledown cottage—lost so deep in the forest even Eddie and Wayne had forgotten the way.

The Omega took one look at the overgrown hovel, squealed, and coiled himself around Eddie like a freakin’ vine. They both knew, without a word passing between them, that this was where they were gonna raise their pups.

🌸💖🌸💖

Thank you for reading 💖 You can find my other steddie omegaverse fic on Ao3 here 💖