#steddiebingo

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker

Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Soulmate | Word Count: 3420 | Rating: E | CW: Language, Sexual Content, Male Titty Fucking | POV: Eddie | Tags: Soulmate AU, College AU, Modern AU, Meet Cute, Or: Meet Ugly, Soulmarks, Invisible Strings, Hijinks Ensue, The Universe Had to Work Overtime on These Two, Matching Each Other's Freak

I actually got assigned the prompt "soulmates" on both the Christmas and New Year's bingo cards. Instead of trying to double-up, I decided to just make them companion pieces. Here are the links to both:

Part 1: Steve POV | Part 2: Eddie POV | Also on AO3

They are intended so they could be read standalone, but I wrote Steve's first, so I say go back and start there if you'd like to read both.

Eddie wears it like a badge of honor. He wishes it was scrawled across his forehead instead of his arm. Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker! is a damn good soulmark, if he doesn't say so himself.

Feisty. He likes that. 

He hasn't met him, or her, yet. He's not picky, never has been.��

Eddie rolls up his sleeves, and the mark is dark black, prominent. Like the freshest, newest tattoo. And he knows tattoos. He's got some good ones, and some bad ones, but this right here is his favorite and he didn't even get to choose it. It just showed up one day, a promise of who was to come.

They have nice handwriting, whoever they are. He's always thought so. He brushes it with his thumb. He just wonders when he's finally going to get to meet them. 

It wasn't in high school, not during any of the three senior years he had. He kind of thought that was why he kept sticking around, like he was just waiting for them to round a corner.

They never did.

Now, he's a senior in college on schedule to graduate in one go, thank you very much, and still nothing. Nada. Zilch. 

Oh well. It'll happen, or it won't. 

"You about done primping your hair or what?" Jeff yells from down the hall, and Eddie laughs. Jeff wanted to go to the big frat party on campus tonight and Eddie definitely wasn't opposed. He can probably off-load some weed, make a little extra cash, so sure, why not? 

Eddie settles onto the couch where he usually does his business. Right out in the open. He's the one to be feared, not the other way around. Gareth is next to him, yapping about some movie that they watched in his film class last night. Eddie's slightly interested. Playing chess against death for your soul? That does sound like something he'd like.

His arm itches. He looks down to scratch at it, right over his soulmark. This couch had better not have fucking bed bugs.

"Oh shit, Goodie's fighting with some frat boy," Gareth announces, sitting up to lean closer to the action, and Eddie looks up.

And Goodie most certainly is doing just that. 

Goodie just shoved a guy, and Eddie has about two seconds to open his arms to catch the cussing heap of a man as he slides across the coffee table, knocking Eddie's lunch box of inventory, and every goddamn drink, onto the ground. Not cool. 

What the fuck is Goodie doing? Yeah, he got the first cheap shot off, but this guy isn't small, and Goodie's definitely gonna get them all into a brawl if this dude has friends. Still, Eddie can't help but laugh, and he yells at Goodie, "You're a fucking dickhead!"  

He shifts the guy over onto Gareth, who makes an oomph sound like he's a delicate flower, as Eddie hops up to try and get this straightened out before it progresses into an actual problem.

Eddie slides his arm around Goodie's neck, and tucks him into his side in a headlock. Goodie lets him, laughing.

"What the fuck, Goods? You just laid that poor guy out, say you're sorry," Eddie demands, looking back at the pretty, if very confused guy still sitting on Gareth who has his hands up in the air, like he's being accused of a crime.

"I'm sorry," Goodie laughs, hand finding Eddie's side, and Eddie damn well knows he's positioning himself to get out this headlock if he needs to, "It was an instinct! A remnant from high school. Get bullied, push back, that's what you always said!"

Eddie turns back to look at the guy. If he really was picking on Goodie, there's gonna be a problem here, "He was bullying you?"

"I was not!" the guy yells. 

"He stepped on my foot!" Goodie clarifies, and Eddie laughs. Stepping on a foot is not bullying. It's an accident.

"He stepped on your foot, so you shoved him in my lap?" Eddie asks, making sure he's got this right.

Goodie huffs, "Well, I didn't think you'd mind!"

It was a nice gift, but still, Goodie's gonna get them in real trouble one of these days if his temper can't be, well, tempered.

"What's going on here?! I just went to the bathroom, there wasn't even a line!" a girl shows up shouting, hopping mad. "Now Steve is sitting in Gareth's lap? How do you know Gareth? You can't sleep with Gareth!"

She's rambling, hands waving in the air.

How do you know Gareth? Eddie thinks. He's never seen either of these two people in his life.

"I'm fine. We're fine, I think?" the guy says, but he doesn't sound sure about that. Eddie's sure. He's fine. He's definitely fine. In more ways than one. Goodie's not gonna do shit. None of them are. "I'm not sleeping with Gareth?" he adds, and Eddie's also sure about that. Gareth's not into men. 

This was just a misunderstanding. A comedy of errors.

Eddie's life, in a nutshell. 

"Not a question. Absolutely not. No offense," Gareth says, and well, that's his loss. Eddie would definitely take one for the team.

But he can't resist. 

"Look what you've done, now you've made his girlfriend mad," Eddie teases, still not releasing Goodie from his grasp. He deserves a little more torture. 

"Ew, gross. Not my boyfriend," the girl says, like she's absolutely disgusted by this idea. Has she not seen that guy? 

"She's a lesbian," Gareth says. And oh, that'll do it. Mystery solved. If neither of them want to sleep with this guy, Eddie will volunteer.

"Don't be so disgusted," the guy with the good hair and bitchy face complains. "I'm a catch."

That he most certainly is. Eddie caught him, if only briefly, and if he can reel him back in, he'll definitely be doing that.

"Do you still have a dick?" the girl asks, snippy.

"I still have a dick," he confirms quietly, and they're bantering. Eddie likes them. Likes this show he's unexpectedly been invited to watch.

"What she said," Gareth pipes up.

And Eddie definitely likes that this handsome devil has a dick. Eddie would like to be introduced to it, up close and personal, post-haste. 

"Well, we're all glad to hear it," Eddie says, finally letting Goodie stand up. Goodie shrugs, trying to get re-situated, and Eddie pats him on the back.

Jeff comes back, having missed the whole altercation, "What's going on?"

Then it turns out the girl, Robin apparently, knows all of his friends. And that is just an unfair and unjust world. 

Gareth seems determined to get Jeff caught up on all the action he missed, "Oh, Jeff, you picked the exact worst time to wander off. Short story: Goodie pushed this guy—"

"Goodie's here, too?" Robin says, like she hadn't even noticed him.

Gareth keeps talking, but what else is new, he's always talking, "—and get this, turns out, this dude is Eddie's soulmate."

Wait, what?

Eddie turns his head, eyes darting between Gareth and the very pretty man that looks like a deer caught in headlights, "What'd you say? Gareth, why do you think…" he trails off, and then looks down at his arm.

"You're Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker?" Jeff cuts in, beating Eddie to the punch. Well, he might not have asked it like that, but the guy laughs.

"Well, I prefer Steve, but I'll answer to anything, I guess."

Steve. His soulmate's name is Steve.

That's officially his favorite name ever, now.

"Jeff, help me. Eddie tried to take my head off my neck," Goodie complains, and while Jeff will take Goodie's side, he's not gonna come in hot at Eddie, even if Goodie is angling for it.

"You pushed my soulmate. You got off easy, my child," Eddie banters back, circling Goodie, like he's sizing him up. Pushing at his chest, and Goodie laughs, batting his hands away.

"Let me see," Steve says quietly.

Eddie stops in his tracks. He knows exactly what Steve wants to see. Eddie walks over to him, and offers up his forearm:

Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!

The words, Steve's words, have finally been said. They're right here on Eddie's skin in Steve's messy cursive scrawl. 

Steve brushes his thumb against Eddie's mark, and Eddie feels a jolt go up his spine, as he goes half-hard in his jeans, immediately.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers, he's never reacted to anyone like that.

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, and Eddie can't stop staring at him. 

They've got to leave here before he does something embarrassing in front of all his friends and a house party full of strangers.

"Wanna get out of here?" Eddie asks, and Steve is nodding before Eddie's even done asking. 

Back in Eddie's room, Eddie keeps running his hands over every inch of skin he can. All those moles and freckles. He's gorgeous.

This was the man made just for him?

He's never been that lucky a day in his life.

"You said it, and I missed it. Can you say it again?" Eddie asks, hand tangled in Steve's hair, pulling his mouth closer, so he can brush his lips against Steve's.

"Say what?" Steve asks, eyes glazed over. Nobody told Eddie meeting your soulmate would be such horny business. They've been touching, and rubbing all over each other for what has to be hours at this point.

"The words, your words," Eddie says, and Steve has to take Eddie's arm into his hand, looking like he's double-checking what he even said.

"Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!" Steve pops off, laughing as he says it, and Eddie giggles with delight, pressing his face into Steve's neck.

"You're a fucking dickhead," Eddie says back with affection, and Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's back and pulls him tight. 

Eddie can't believe he finally met him, and he's this gorgeous. Way out of Eddie's league, but Steve seems just as happy to be here as Eddie is, which, hot fucking damn.

He just wants to touch him everywhere, wants to see every inch of his body, wants to worship him now that he's finally here. 

Stripped down and bare, Eddie's checked him over, and Steve only has the one mark. No other tattoos. Just Eddie's own words, and miles of tan, freckled skin. And the moles. Oh, the moles. Not to mention the thick thatch of chest hair that lights a fire inside Eddie. Eddie rubs his fingers through it, and has the unexpected thought that he wants to come in it, wants to titty fuck him, even if that wouldn't exactly be an easy endeavor. Not to mention, well, maybe not something to suggest on the first date. He doesn't have to let his entire freak flag fly. 

He moves on, but will tuck that pretty mental image somewhere safe in the back of his brain, as he slides his hand down to thumb at Steve's nipple. Steve's hips come up off the bed, and Eddie knows they are going to have so much goddamn fun tonight.

Not just tonight.

Forever.

And isn't that a heady thought?

His fingers go right back to that chest hair, and his hand wanders, getting a handful of his chest, squeezing, and Steve chuckles. 

"Boobie man?" Steve asks, and it's playful, not judgmental at all.

"Fuck," Eddie says, and he wouldn't have especially said that he's a boob man. He likes them just fine, but there's something about Steve's chest hair. Manly, dark and thick in the middle, spreading up and out, that is really pressing buttons he didn't even know he had.

"I'm a pervert, the things I want to do to you will send you running for the hills," Eddie says, and Steve lets out the best sounding laugh in the world.

"Doubtful. Do 'em," Steve says, "I'm no blushing virgin. I've been around the block. I've been around several blocks, and had fun on every corner."

"Fuck me," Eddie says, rubbing his hard cock against Steve's thigh, "how come our blocks never crossed until now? My map was faulty."

Steve giggles, and it's adorable.

"You're gorgeous, and your chest hair is making me think all kinds of thoughts," Eddie admits, leaning back so he can see Steve's face.

By giving Steve space, Steve takes both hands, and presses his pecs together. There's just enough softness, just enough give, that Eddie is sure he could actually do it.

He could slide his dick between them, and feel all that hair hugging the underside of his cock.

Eddie starts fisting his own cock, watching. Wanting.

Their first sexual encounter cannot be him fucking Steve's chest. He's weird, and proud of it, but maybe not that weird.

Instead he slides down the bed, and admires Steve's impressive cock as it lays against his belly, hard and leaking. Steve flexes, making it bounce, and Eddie laughs, delighted. Can he already love him? Because he thinks he already loves him.

Eddie slides his fingers between Steve's cock and his belly, guiding it upwards, rubbing the head against his bottom lip, tongue sneaking out to taste, and then he sinks down, taking him fully into his mouth. He's a mouthful, more than, but Eddie's no quitter. Eddie moans, and Steve echoes him, as Eddie uses his free hand to grip Steve's hip.

He wants to blow him, wants to roll him over and eat him out until he cries and begs for Eddie's cock. He wants it all, wants everything, and thinks he just might get it.

Eddie's never had sex like this before. And he's had some damn good sex. This just feels like a whole different level of attraction, of connection.

Soulmates. 

He thought he knew, but he really didn't.

Steve's in his lap, rocking back and forth on his cock, working him over like a goddamn pro. Arms wrapped around Eddie's neck, mouths locked together, sharing breath, unwilling to let one another go. 

He was right. He is feisty. Just not in the way Eddie had always expected. 

Eddie's getting close, and he snakes a hand between them, fisting Steve's cock, hoping he'll be able to to take him over the edge right along with him. 

"Eddie," Steve breathes against his mouth, a warning, and Eddie nods up and down, encouraging him.

"Do it, god, do it. Come," Eddie demands, and Steve does. Warmth hitting Eddie's hand, his belly, as Steve tightens down on Eddie's cock, pulsing with his orgasm.

Eddie pushes up into him, still chasing his own, when Steve unceremoniously slides up and off him. He's bewildered, stunned for the heartbeat it takes Steve to flop onto his back, hands pressing the sides of his chest together, an offer.

Eddie strips off the condom, slides his thighs along Steve's ribs, and leans forward, bracing himself against the headboard. Slick cock pressing into Steve's skin, the slight roughness of the chest hair a new sensation, and he thrusts. He can't see Steve's face, not from this angle, but the idea alone is enough to get him across the finish line, and he slides back, a downstroke, coming with a long, hard groan. Fuck. That was something. Too quick, but so fucking filthy that he couldn't hang on a second longer.

He pants, and scoots back down to Steve's waist. Admiring his handiwork. Come is stuck in Steve's chest hair, and some shot upwards, hitting the underside of Steve's chin, pooling in the hollow of his neck.

"Fuck, we are meant to fucking be," Eddie says, rubbing his thumb through the mess, darkening his chest hair even further, matting it together.

Steve laughs, "I'm gonna need a shower, but goddamn, you were worth the wait. I've been waiting for somebody to match my freak."

Eddie laughs, delighted and wowed by this man under him. His fucking soulmate. He moans, and buries his face in Steve's neck as they cling to each other, spreading the mess further. They're both gonna need showers, and that's totally fine with Eddie. Worth it.

And this was just the first time. First times have no business ever being that good, and Eddie presses his mouth to Steve's sweaty neck, offering him open-mouthed kisses.

Offering Steve himself, his love, his whole future if Steve is willing to take it.

All of his freak, and more.

Morning comes too soon, and Steve slides out of bed to get dressed. Eddie watches as Steve pushes down his sleeves, and then changes his mind, pushing them back up towards his elbows. 

"It's supposed to be sunny and seventy, definitely up," Eddie chimes in, hands tucked behind his head, just enjoying the free show.

Steve smiles, "Yeah. Just, habit. I've hidden my mark for so long it's gonna take some time to break the habit."

"You hid it? Why?"

"Well, you're a fucking dickhead didn't seem wildly romantic. I had no idea it wouldn't be directed at me," Steve says, and oh, Eddie never thought of that.

Eddie gets out of bed, and wraps his arms around Steve's middle, squeezing him tight, "I'd never. But I get it. I thought mine was towards me, too. But I was wearing it like a badge of honor. Fucking Goodie," Eddie teases.

Steve grins, "He finally introduced us. I can't be too mad at him."

And Eddie isn't mad either, he owes Goodie several beers. A new pair of shoes if he's still salty that his toe got stepped on. Whatever he wants, within reason.

"Do you really have to go to class?" Eddie asks.

"At least my first one. Six more weeks to go."

"Yeah, yeah. Same boat. You anywhere near the union for lunch?" Eddie asks, hopeful.

"Yes. Meet you there at twelve-twenty?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. That works. Eddie doesn't want to take his hands off of him, doesn't want to let him out of his sight, like he might disappear, even if that's irrational. They've exchanged numbers. Apparently all of Eddie's friends know Steve's best friend. Steve's not going anywhere. 

"Here," Eddie says, walking over and rummaging through his closet, pulling out a black t-shirt, "wear this. Nowhere to hide."

He hands over the shirt, and watches as Steve tugs off his Henley, tossing it onto Eddie's bed, and then slips the new shirt over his head. Corroded Coffin emblazoned across his chest, and Eddie grins. He's got a soulmate.

He's got Steve. 

"Look at you," Eddie says.

Steve looks down at his chest, "Oh, my friend Chrissy talks about this band."

"You know Chrissy?" Eddie asks, because Jesus H. Christ, of course Steve does. The universe was working overtime to get them connected, but for some reason they were just stumbling around the same campus like fools, not making it happen, for four years.

"You know Chrissy?" Steve repeats. "I've been meaning to introduce her to Robin, I think they'd hit it off. We should all do something. Goodie can push me down again, or whatever it is that you all do for fun."

Eddie tosses his head back and laughs, "He's not usually that aggressive. He must have been possessed by our profane soulmarks."

Steve smiles at him, and it makes his heart flip in his chest. How did he get this lucky? Steve Harrington is perfect. He couldn't have picked better if given the choice. He's really something else.

"The universe thought we needed a shove, literally."

Eddie grins. Definitely worked. Job well done.

"Full transparency? That's our band," Eddie says, a smile tugging at his lips as he touches the logo on Steve's chest, "and we have a slot at The Cave on Friday."

"Wouldn't miss it," Steve says, leaning forward to kiss him one more time. Eddie kisses him back before Steve really has to leave, the door closing softly behind him.

Steve may have had to go, but Eddie'll see him later, and they'll pick this right back up where they left off.

Eddie picks Steve's discarded Henley up off the bed. Maybe he'll wear this today. He doesn't need to wear his mark like a badge of honor anymore. He won the whole goddamn lottery, because Eddie's finally met his match, his soulmate, and Steve is more than he could have ever hoped for. He can't wait to see what the future brings for them. 

He pictures an entire life shared between Mr. You're A Fucking Dickhead and Mr. Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker.

And Eddie laughs, absolutely delighted by the prospect. 

He can't wait.

Read Steve's POV here.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 💞

Notes: I don't think I've written soulmates before, so I'm not sure if I've stayed with the trope or veered into left field, but I know I had fun with this one. I loved the idea that their first words in each other's presence would be something so unhinged, lol. And Goodie shall never let either of them forget that their soulmarks were spoken to him not each other.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Wherever you wanna go

Written for day 14 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles, and for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompt: Together and Fluff

Rated: T

Tags: Omegaverse; Alpha!Steve; Omega!Eddie; Steddie dads; mpreg (referenced); Domestic fluff

Notes: Set in the same universe as Whatever you want it to be

“Okay, we’ve been over this,” Eddie says. “I know you value your independence, and I appreciate your commitment, but there's no shame in accepting a little help, yeah?” 

“No,” Lizzie replies, swatting him off with tiny hands. “Lone.” 

“But-” Eddie says, but she doesn’t listen, just continues her way up the slide with a determined frown. She looks ridiculously like Steve - from the way her chestnut hair falls into her face, all the way to the stubbornly set jaw and pouty bottom lip. Speaking of Steve …

“Stop laughing,” Eddie grouses, admitting defeat and stomping back to their park bench. “You won’t think it’s funny when she falls.” 

“You worry too much,” Steve chuckles, kissing his cheek. “She's gonna be fine.” 

Eddie groans. “The stubborn streak on this kid is unbelievable.” 

“Yeah?” Steve shoots him a side-glance and goes back to his parenting magazine. “Sounds like someone I know.” 

“Well, that’s one thing she gets from me, at least,” Eddie huffs. “I grow her in my own body, go through the absolute hell that is labor, and she pops out looking like your little clone? That's just unfair.”

Steve turns a page. “I’ve read that it’s fairly normal for them to look more like the alpha parent for the first year or two. Keeps us emotionally attached, apparently. And for the record, she gets a lot of things from you.” 

“Huh,” Eddie mutters, slotting closer into his space. It’s getting chilly, but Steve always runs warm, and his sweater is fluffy and soft. “Hope she didn’t get the goldfish brain and the smart mouth. I’d like her to have an easy life.” 

“Hey now. I like your mouth,” Steve smirks. Eddie slaps his arm. “And just so you know, I was talking about your determination and your passion, and your love for music, among other things. The way she goes off when you play that guitar?” 

Eddie grins, even as something in his chest tugs. 

“She is the best audience I’ve ever had,” he concedes. “And my metal version of Wheels on the Bus slaps, I think we can all agree there.”

They lapse into silence for a few seconds.

“Speaking of music,” Steve finally says, setting aside his magazine so that he can take Eddie’s hand. “That new bar on Lincoln’s is looking for live acts. Maybe you should-” 

Eddie shakes his head. The treacherous thing in his chest twists. “Nah, Stevie, I don’t think so.” 

Steve frowns. “Why not? It might be a good way for you to get back into things. You always wanted-” 

“Yes,” Eddie says. “But when these places say they’re looking for music acts, they don’t mean scrawny omegas with a toddler at home.”

He stands, meaning to walk back to Lizzie, but Steve doesn’t let go of his hand. “You can’t know that unless you try. They might say yes. And I’ve no problem staying home with Liz, you know that.”

Something bittersweet and warm blooms behind Eddie’s collarbone. He sighs, sinking back onto the bench. “I know, big boy. You're brilliant with her. That's not what I'm worried about.” 

Steve flushes at the praise, but his eyes hold the same determination as on the day when he first proposed courtship to Eddie. Like he’s ready to tear apart anyone who’ll try and hurt him. 

“You shouldn’t worry at all,” he says. “Whatever you wanna do, wherever you wanna go, we’ll find a way together, yeah? Just … promise me you’ll think about it?” 

Eddie is nodding before he even knows it. How could he do anything else in the face of those earnest puppy-dog eyes? 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, leaning in for a brief kiss. “I guess I can-” 

A loud clang and a shrill cry interrupt him. When they whip around, Lizzie is scrambling upright at the end of the slide and holding her head, big tears running down her cheeks.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, jumping up to get to her, but Steve beats him to it and scoops her up in his arms. 

“That’ll leave a bump,” he says. “Come on, lemme kiss it better.”

Lizzie, whose wails have already quietened, giggles as he leaves a trail of loud, wet smooches all over the side of her face. The warm, fuzzy thing in Eddie’s chest flutters as he joins them. Lizzie burrows her face into his neck, seeking his scent, but refuses to leave Steve’s arms when he attempts to hand her over. Eddie goes for wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist instead, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Oh, isn’t this adorable?”

When they look up, an old lady is standing next to the slide, grocery bags in both hands. 

“Never mind me, dears,” she giggles. “I just think it’s beautiful, seeing young families together like this. You don’t see many alphas being that involved. Don’t let that one go, he’s a keeper.”

“Thank y-” Eddie starts to say, but then it dawns on him that she isn’t looking at him. She’s looking at Steve. Steve, with his fuzzy, pastel-colored sweater, who’s cradling their little daughter with the softest, most gooey smile on his face. “Erm, actually-”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Steve interrupts him, laying his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m not planning to. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

“What the fuck?” Eddie hisses as the woman trundles on and Steve shouts a cheery goodbye after her. “What was that all about?” 

Steve disentangles himself from his embrace, kissing his cheek once more before he carries Lizzie over to her stroller. 

“What?” he calls over his shoulder. “Let people assume what they want, we don’t owe them an explanation.” 

He’s right, Eddie thinks as they start making their way home. They don’t owe anyone shit. As long as the three of them are together and happy, that’s all that matters. 

He’s planning on keeping it this way. 

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[katyawriteswhump]

sleigh bells ring, I'm not listening! (steddie holiday drabble/bingo/whumpcember)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 5 prompt, Winter Sports; my first @steddiebingo fill, ‘Dustin Henderson,’ and @whumpcember day 21 prompt, ‘bruises.’ (It was originally day 5 prompt, concussion, but I ended up sparing the boys that for once!)

WC: 977; Rating T; CW: None; Tags: established steddie, mild whump hurt/comfort, fluff.  Maths terms provided by my partner. I have no idea what they mean and have doubtless misused them.

Summary: Steve loves all sports. Apart from winter sports. So, when he’s literally dragged from bed to go sledding with Dustin and Eddie, he’s surprised when it turns out rather magical…

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“Remind me why I agreed to this?” Steve trailed a sled along the snowy track. He glared hotly at Dustin, then pleadingly at Eddie, who trudged on his other side. “It’s too cold for anything other than fucking… sleep.”

Eddie smirked. He didn’t look as miserable as Steve, which was annoying. Dustin, meanwhile, was having none of it:

“Dudes! This is your once-in-a-lifetime embarkation on a voyage of mathematical curiosity. Today, we’re exploring chaos theory! Mandelbrot bifurcations! Feigenbaum constants! You’re never gonna paddle those icy waters alone.”

“You wanna stick a pin in that balloon-head?” Steve asked Eddie, “or should I?” 

Eddie laughed then sneezed dramatically. Steve stopped dead. “You know what? I love sports. Apart from winter sports. Skiing. Luge. Skating. All that shit. Hate it.”

“You worship at the altar of ice-hockey,” pointed out Eddie. 

“Whose side are you on?” Steve nearly yelled: I’m not being dragged into this by a pair of sport-hating geeks! Instead, he mumbled, pathetically, “Wanna go home.”

By now, they’d reached Hawkins’ top sledding slope. A smattering of kids zoomed down the super-compacted ice. Eddie regarded the scene with a misty smile, which shocked Steve out of his grouchiness.

“I’m in, Henderson.” Eddie’s smile evolved into a full-on-adorable, dimpled grin. “I got great memories of this spot—me, mom, and a big-ass tea-tray. Who needs a goddamn sled?”

“We do.” Dustin whipped out a stopwatch. “We’ve a shitload of interesting variables at play here. Let’s go.”

‘Science’ commenced. Dustin sledded first, then Steve, who gritted his teeth and endured. Eddie went last, screaming his way down the slope… 

“…like a little girl,” said Dustin to Steve, super-earnest. “A little girl who’s in need of hugs, Steve.”

“Bullshit on so many levels.” Steve pointed to a nearby grade-school sledder. “She isn’t screaming. And my boyfriend’s scream is totally metal.”

“Okay. Just, y’know…” Dustin mumbled behind his hand, as Eddie approached with the sled. “He needs more hugs.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. Huh?

After several more runs, Dustin leafed through his notebook. “Interesting data. Now, both of you—on the sled.”

Steve planted frozen fists on his hips: “No way. Not big enough.”

“It’s fine,” said Eddie. “Totally bigger than mom’s tea-tray.”

Steve silently surrendered yet again. Eddie treasured memories of his mom, who passed when he was young. This clearly meant a lot to him, as well as Dustin, so Steve took pole position to steer—as much as anyone could with a dumb rope. Eddie perched behind, wrapping his arms around Steve, notching his chin on Steve’s shoulder. It was super-cosy, and… yeah, super-nice. They didn’t usually get this close in public, plus they’d avoided showing affection in front of their friends lately because—

“Ready?” yelled Dustin.

Steve’s nerves jangled. Eddie yelled: “Hell, yeah! Steddin’ with the Devil!”

“3, 2, 1, GO!”

Heel-power propelled them off. Wind whooshed through Steve’s hair, while Eddie unleashed his most deafeningly ‘metal’ scream yet. It was a bumpy ride, but mega-fun. Steve found himself grinning madly, though fearing for his hearing, and then:

“Shiiiiit!” He spotted the rock way too late. On impact, the world flipped, and he was thrown from the sled, landing heavily on his side. He suppressed a whimper, because something else mattered way more:

“Eddie?”

His heart lurched to his throat, pounding madly even after he spotted Eddie lying in the snow. Steve scrambled up, limped gingerly over: “You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

Steve nodded.

Eddie finished his snow-angel and sat up, shaking his hair like a wet dog: “Mom said it ain’t sledding till you crash.”

 “All good, gentlemen?” panted Dustin, skidding to join them.

“Apparently.” Steve dumped his bruised butt down next to Eddie.

“Great,” said Dustin. “Why aren’t you hugging?”

 “Uuuuuuh, should we be?”

“Yes!” shouted Dustin, and it all blurted out. Apparently, ‘science’ had a secondary agenda.  “You used to be all lovey-dovey smoochy! Lately, you’ve hardly touched. I figured if I got you squished on a sled, adrenaline rushing, old magic might rekindle?”

Steve merely gawked at Dustin, whose recent weirdness began to make sense. Eddie, meanwhile, threw his arms around Steve’s neck and spoke between bursts of crazy laughter: 

“The issue here, Dustin Henderson, is lack of Party communication. We stopped touching, because Max said we made her wanna hurl. Mike complained it was creepy! We’re still in love! I mean, when you thumped on our door today, we were totally fu… cuddling.” 

“Oh,” said Dustin, visibly brightening. Eddie resumed cackling into Steve’s shoulder. Steve took his cue to fling both arms around Eddie and burrow close for warmth.

Once back home, they got dry and toasty, gently kissing each other’s more visible bruises. Eventually Eddie, stretched out on the bed, noticed Steve’s slight limp. “You got another bruise to show me, Baby?”

Steve tugged down his pants, revealing a mottled rainbow-spectrum of colors spreading up his thigh and ass-cheek to his hip. He coyly arched a brow. “Honest to God, today was a blast and totally worth it… but, yeah, that spot requires serious kissing better.”

“Looks too sore even for kisses.” Eddie flung open his arms. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t you dare be. It was my shitty steering.”

“C’mere. Right now.”

Steve obeyed, rolling back into the enthusiastic lovemaking that science and goddamn Henderson had interrupted. He bitched about his bruise, but only slightly—especially as Eddie lavished extra care on nearby areas, with lips and tongue, to distract him.

“Sledding again tomorrow?” suggested Eddie, much later, while they snuggled inside watching fresh snow falling.

“You are joking, right?”

“Don’t worry, Stevie. Your ass is safe… though maybe not from me.”

Eddie’s answer segued into a sweet, lingering kiss, which Steve returned enthusiastically. He’d learned important shit today about his two favorite people. Eddie loved sledding. And Dustin loved his friends loving each other. Steve still blindsided himself, breaking the kiss to whisper:

“Maybe more sledding next week?”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

tags: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[fkinkindagauche]

The Indiana Lakers

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo prompts, one from my main card for Round One (prompt: trinket) and one from my Twelve Days of Christmas Mini-Event card (prompt: make-up sex). Thanks to the @strangerthingswritersguild server for help coming up with a bad gift!

Rating: Explicit | WC: 2,341 | CW: None | Tags: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, gift-giving

Read on AO3

"Are you serious right now?" Steve's voice came out high-pitched and strained. He looked down at the yellow and purple jersey, emblazoned across the back with "BRYANT" and the number 8.

"I was pretty proud of myself for remembering," Eddie beamed, completely misinterpreting Steve's tone of voice.

Steve was speechless for a few moments, glaring down at the jersey. "Eddie," he huffed.

Eddie's face fell. He seemed to finally be catching on to the fact that Steve wasn't happy with him. "This is the guy you like, right? He scores a lot of points really fast?"

Steve sighed, running a hand over his face. "I like the Pacers, Eddie. Reggie Miller. This jersey is for the Lakers. You know, the team that beat my team in the NBA finals in June."

"Shit," Eddie muttered. "Why do they have almost the same exact team name?"

Steve took a deep breath, trying to quell his knee-jerk reaction to scream in frustration.

He'd started Christmas morning in a bad mood, and this certainly wasn't helping. He was one of the on call scrub nurses over the holidays again and had been called in late the night before for an emergency appendectomy. He'd barely gotten any sleep. Plus, they were going to Steve's parents' for Christmas dinner in a few hours. That would have been enough to put him in a bad mood even if he had slept. He was dreading the hours filled with thinly veiled criticisms of his career choice and repeated complaints about the lack of grandchildren.

And now this. He knew he couldn't expect Eddie to care as much about sports as he did, but this was a pretty egregious error. Buying Steve a jersey not just for the wrong team, but for the team that had stolen the NBA championship from Steve's team. As Steve cataloged the morning's mental wounds, he lost control of his temper.

"Do you ever actually listen when I talk?" he snapped. "We've been together for ten years now! Basketball is very important to me! How can you still not know my team?"

Hurt flashed across Eddie's face. He leaned away from Steve. "I- I'm sorry, Stevie. You know I mix up letters and stuff sometimes."

"This isn't just mixing up letters!" Steve persisted, unable to pull himself back now that he'd gotten riled up. "There's colors and logos and player names. Also, you could have just asked an employee wherever you got it which team was from Indiana!"

Eddie frowned. "Steve. Maybe we should talk about this after you've gotten some sleep."

"Oh, fuck you, Eddie," Steve yelled. He hated it when Eddie got all reasonable like this when they argued, treating him like he was some kind of child throwing a tantrum. He balled up the jersey and threw it in Eddie's face. Then he stood up and walked to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Steve sank to the floor and leaned back against the door, thunking his head against the wood. He was crying, ugly tears with all sorts of snot. He had a tendency to cry at the slightest inconvenience when he was exhausted. The tears usually upset him more, and he'd spent most of his life trying to shut them off as soon as they started. But this time he let them come, trying to ride the waves of his emotions like he'd talked about with his therapist.

After a few minutes, he calmed down. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, scanning down his body and cataloging all the little sensations to ground himself.

As he settled down, he felt embarrassed. It would be nice if Eddie paid a little more attention to Steve's sports-related interests, but the intensity of Steve's reaction to the present hadn't been great.

Just as he was about to get up and go apologize, he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Stevie?" Eddie called through the door. "Can I come in, baby?"

Steve opened the door. Eddie's face was pinched with worry. Steve started to sob again.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie crooned, pulling Steve into his arms and guiding them over to sit on the bed. "I'm so sorry."

Steve gasped through his tears. "N-no! I'm sorry, Eddie. I- I was so mean. I'm h-horrible!" Steve was hiccuping now. He buried his face in Eddie's long hair.

Eddie stroked up and down Steve's back, gently shushing him as Steve continued to mutter nonsense into his hair through hiccups. Eventually, Steve quieted down.

"Thanks for apologizing for snapping at me," Eddie said. "But I am really sorry I fucked up with the jersey, Steve. You're right, I should try to listen to you more when you're really excited about sports things. You always listen when I talk about music."

Steve sat back, wiping the tears and snot off of his face. He gave Eddie a watery smile. "Thanks, Eddie," Steve whispered.

Steve noticed that Eddie was holding something in the hand that hadn't been rubbing his back. "What's that?" he asked, cocking his head.

Eddie followed Steve's eyes. He seemed surprised to realize he still had something in his hand. "Oh. This is your other present." He handed Steve a wrapped flat box.

Steve took the box from him. It was heavier than it looked. He unwrapped it and opened the box to reveal an antique gold pocket watch. It was beautiful, and still told time accurately.

"This is lovely, Eddie," Steve gushed. He flipped it over. On the back was inscribed "Edward Munson, 1880". He frowned at the inscription, looking up at Eddie.

"It was my great grandfather's," Eddie explained. "I'm named after him. Wayne found it in a box he'd had in storage forever. It only needed a little work to get it going again. I know it's just a little trinket, and I didn't even have to pay for it, but you like old stuff so much, so I thought you'd appreciate it." He looked unsure of himself, like Steve might reject this gift, too. Fuck, Steve felt like an asshole.

He threw his arms around Eddie, squeezing him tight in a hug. "This is the best present anyone's ever given me," Steve insisted, tears starting to build in his eyes again.

Eddie laughed. "Okay, well, maybe you're over-correcting your gift response a little too much there, big boy."

Steve leaned back to look at Eddie. "I'm serious," he insisted. "It's beautiful and thoughtful and a piece of you."

Eddie blushed. "I'm glad you like it."

Steve turned his attention back to the watch in his hands, flipping it over and looking at it from different angles. "I really do feel like a dick," Steve whispered.

Eddie reached out to still Steve's hands. Steve looked up. Eddie pulled one of Steve's wrists to his mouth and pressed a kiss into the soft skin there. "It's okay, sweetheart. I know you're tired and stressed about your parents."

Steve shivered as Eddie's lips brushed over his skin. He'd always assumed at some point Eddie's touch would start affecting him less, but they were ten years in and he was still hopelessly horny for the man after a chaste wrist kiss.

He put the watch to the side and pulled his hand from Eddie's grip. He clambered onto Eddie's lap, pushing at his chest to get him to lay back on the bed. Steve leaned over to kiss Eddie, tongue snaking into his mouth. He pressed his hardening cock to Eddie's through the thin layers of their pajama pants, and could feel Eddie's cock responding in kind.

"Oh, okay," Eddie laughed when Steve broke the kiss. "Wasn't expecting quite this reaction to the watch, but I'm loving it."

Steve pulled Eddie's shirt up, exposing the pale skin of his belly, a light dusting of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. Steve reverently kissed the skin just below his belly button, a brush of his lips in one of his favorite places. Eddie shivered.

Steve pulled down Eddie's pants, releasing his hard cock, precum beading at the tip.

"Steve, you don't have to give me an apology blowie," Eddie huffed.

Steve glared up at him. "It's not an apology blowie. It's a Christmas present for me, the man who loves to suck your cock."

Eddie smiled fondly down at him, cupping his cheek and then tracing a thumb over his bottom lip. Steve opened his mouth, sucking in Eddie's thumb while he maintained eye contact.

"Alright, then," Eddie breathed. "Be my guest."

Steve let go of Eddie's thumb and leaned forward. He stuck his nose in the crease of Eddie's thigh, inhaling his musky scent, so strong here. He paused for a moment, enjoying being surrounded by the warmth and smell of Eddie.

Turning his head, he kissed the base of Eddie's cock. He kissed his shaft again and again, moving up the length until he reached the tip. He licked the precum from Eddie's slit and sucked the head into his mouth.

Eddie moaned, hands coming to Steve's hair. He grabbed handfuls of it and tugged gently, just the way Steve liked.

Steve worked Eddie's cock into his mouth, getting used to the sensation as he slowly took in more and more of his length. He pressed up with his tongue as he maintained firm suction. More precum flooded his mouth, salty and bitter.

Steve drew in a deep breath and swallowed as he took Eddie all the way into his mouth. His eyes watered as Eddie's cock pushed into his throat, a different kind of tear than before rolling down his cheeks.

"Fuck, Steve," Eddie moaned, hands tightening in Steve's hair. Steve pulled off, gasping in a deep breath. A string of saliva connected his lips to the head of Eddie's cock.

"I want you to fuck me," Steve said. "Hard. Wanna still feel it when I sit down for dinner at my parents'."

Eddie closed his eyes and groaned. "Shit. Okay."

Steve scrambled to take off his clothes, throwing his shirt and sweats across the room. He grabbed the lube from the bedside table and was in the process of squirting some onto his fingers to hastily open himself up when Eddie stole it from him.

"No, I'm gonna do that," Eddie insisted, voice a low rumble. He was naked now, too. "Lay down on your stomach."

A thrill ran through Steve's body straight to his balls. He complied quickly with Eddie's request, pressing his face into his pillow.

Eddie draped his body over Steve's, kissing him between his shoulder blades. He moved down Steve's back, covering what felt like every inch of Steve's skin in kisses as he went.

Steve sighed as Eddie's hands cupped his ass cheeks, spreading them apart. Eddie blew across Steve's rim, making it flutter, then licked over it. He licked Steve like he was the world's most delicious ice cream cone, all firm pressure and wet saliva. Steve keened as Eddie's tongue breached his rim, pushing in gently past the tight muscle.

Steve pressed himself against Eddie's mouth shamelessly. Eddie fucked him slowly with his tongue for what seemed like hours, Steve wiggling his hips and whining for more.

Finally, a finger came up to join the tongue. It slid in easily, Steve's hole wet and relaxed from Eddie's tongue. It was quickly followed by a second finger. Eddie curled his fingers, rubbing against Steve's prostate. He continued to lick around his fingers, keeping everything wet and messy.

"Please, Eddie, please," Steve begged, panting. "I'm ready, I swear, just fuck me."

Eddie laughed against Steve's ass but otherwise ignored him, continuing to lick and finger him with no sign of stopping.

"Eddieeeee," Steve pleaded, pressing his ass even more firmly into Eddie's face. "I need you."

Eddie could never resist that. He pulled his fingers out of Steve, grabbing a pillow to shove beneath Steve's hips. Steve heard Eddie uncapping the lube, then felt Eddie's cock press against his entrance. He slid into Steve slowly as he pressed kisses over Steve's shoulder blades and the back of his neck.

Once he bottomed out, he pressed his forehead to the middle of Steve's back, breathing in deep. He eventually started to move, slowly and gently. It felt amazing, but it wasn't what Steve needed right now.

"I want to feel it, Eddie," Steve whined.

Eddie huffed a laugh against his back. "Alright, princess." He shifted to kneel between Steve's legs, using his hands to pull Steve's hips up off the bed and into the air. He moved one leg to the side and forward to brace himself up on his foot, then began to fuck into Steve in earnest.

"Yesssss," Steve hissed as Eddie pounded into him. His grip on Steve's hips was firm, hard enough to leave bruises. He yanked Steve back onto his cock over and over again as he thrust hard into him.

Steve let out staccato curses and encouragements, another one punched out of him every time Eddie thrust. Eddie was pummeling his prostate now, and Steve was well on his way to coming with his dick untouched.

"You're so fucking perfect, Stevie," Eddie panted. "Gonna cum inside you, fill you up, make you mine." As if Steve wasn't already completely and utterly Eddie's.

"Fucking yes, baby, fill me up," Steve screamed.

Eddie growled and thrust even harder. Steve came with a yelp, spurting cum all over the sheets, his ass clamping down on Eddie's cock. After just a few more thrusts, Eddie came with a grunt, burying himself deep inside of Steve.

Eddie shook through his orgasm, eventually pulling Steve onto his side to spoon him. He kissed Steve's shoulders, and Steve could tell from the pattern of the kisses that Eddie was giving a kiss to each one of his moles.

"I love you, baby," Steve mumbled, stroking the fine hairs on Eddie's arm wrapped around his waist.

"Even though I thought the Indiana Lakers were a thing?" Eddie asked.

Steve snorted. "Yeah. Even after that."

[xzerosparrowx]

Written for @steddiebingo.

See my pinned post to follow my Steddie Bingo progress.

Prompt: Last Kiss. Goodbyes. Unhappy Ending | Word Count: 744 | Rating: T | CW: Blood, death. | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Eddie canon death, Steve and Eddie share a moment, all hurt/no comfort.

-

Steve Harrington is a person made of Before and After. There was a Steve before he met Nancy Wheeler and after, another Steve before and after he met Dustin Henderson, before and after Robin Buckly… and now Eddie Munson.

Eddie, an amalgamation of all his favourite people into a singular human being and Steve hated him, unsure what to do with the loud, dramatic boy that seemed to get along with everyone that Steve cared about. A piece of a puzzle that no one knew was lost had just fit so seamlessly into their group, as if he were always meant to be there from the start. Steve feels unsteady in Eddie Munson’s presence, oscillating between anger and anxiety at Eddie’s jokes, the little smiles he gives Dustin and Robin, and the way he smokes a cigarette between shaky fingers. 

Understanding only comes to him in the Upside Down, walking through the dead forest with Eddie rambling next to him and the only thing he can focus on are the rings on his fingers, the rumble in his voice and his lips.

Eddie is strange. Eddie is beautiful.

The idea of kissing Eddie, of kissing another boy, is not as scary as he thought it would be. The idea just passes through him and settles somewhere in his chest where he keeps hidden things inside. Steve will do something about it after they get rid of Vecna.

-

Steve feels it, the wrongness in the air as he walks back with Nancy and Robin to the trailer park, dread curling and twisting itself in his chest forcing him to look back at the Creel house, compelling his feet to quicken their step to Eddie and Dustin.

“Eddie!” Dustin cries and Steve sprints towards them, dropping his bat to the ashen ground, the stone of dread sinking to the pit of his stomach. 

No. No no no no. 

“Steve! Oh God, save him!” Dustin pleads.

Steve has seen death before, knows the heavy copper scent of blood and the way a body looks when breath has left the lungs. Even so, it takes him a moment to comprehend what he is seeing; the dark red blooming on Eddie’s clothes, the short, painful gasp of each breath.

Eddie is dying. 

He feels numb when he kneels beside Eddie, unaware that his feet carried him until he sees those large brown eyes staring up at him.

“That bad, big boy?” Eddie grimaces, blood spitting from his mouth.

“No, nononono you’re gonna be fine, we just gotta get you to a hospital,” Dustin frets, sniffling as he presses his shaky hands to the wounds on Eddie’s ribs. 

“I- I just wanted to help. I didn’t run away this time, right?” Eddie asks, his voice small and fearful sounding odd to Steve’s ears. It is only then, as Eddie wraps a weakened hand around Steve’s wrist that everything comes into focus, Steve’s world catching up to Eddie’s. 

Oh god. Eddie is dying!

“No, Eddie. You fought bravely, I’m gonna save you. Dustin, grab something for us to carry him on- a mattress!” He shouts, ripping off his jacket and tearing strips off his shirt.

“Steve-”

“Hang on Eddie, I’m gonna get you-”

“Steve. Look at me.”

Don’t do this! I can save you!

Steve wants to shout, wants to stamp his feet and yell, to drag Eddie out of this shitty hellhole and back to the real world with him. With him. With Steve. He wants Eddie; wants to see what he’s like when he’s flirty, when he’s drunk, when he’s got a cold, when he wakes up in the morning and goes to sleep at night. Steve wants all of it, all of him. 

Instead, he sees fear and understanding swimming in those large, dark eyes. There is too much blood. Too many wounds.

“I thought we had more time,” Steve whispers, gently cupping Eddie’s face in his hands, bringing himself closer. 

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, coming out pained and weak, “just my luck. Steve Harrington has a crush on me and I’m-” he whimpers, tears rolling down his temples as he looks up at Steve. Hurt and adoration.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Steve breathes against Eddie’s lips. 

He closes the gap softly, a gentle press of the lips. He can taste the copper and iron in Eddie’s blood, tastes the last cigarette and understands, with a painful ache, that this is it. 

The first.

The last.

A goodbye.

[steveseddie]

my cards are on the table

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: family dinner and @steddiebingo prompt: matchmaker | rating: t | cw: 999 | tags: different first meeting, pre season 4, matchmaker wayne munson, soft boys

read on ao3

Christmas at the Munson’s consists of early dinner on Christmas Eve and opening presents on Christmas morning once Wayne comes back from work.

It’s been that way since Eddie moved in so when Wayne opens Eddie’s door to tell him to wash up before dinner and casually says he invited someone, Eddie is puzzled.

“You– what?”

“Kid, you gotta stop listening to your music so loud,” Wayne says gruffly, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“And you need to explain why you invited someone to dinner!” Eddie demands, narrowing his eyes. “Is it a woman? Are you seeing someone, old man?”

“Not a woman, son, just a kid who does deliveries to the plant sometimes. His folks ain’t gonna be around for Christmas so I invited him over.”

Eddie’s lips press into a thin line. He’s known his uncle is a good man since he took him in. He loves him for it. He just wishes it didn’t mean he has to spend Christmas with a stranger.

“Fine, but I’m not dressing up just because someone is coming over!”

“Suit yourself, son, but I think you might wanna.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Why?” Wayne just shrugs and leaves. “Why?” He repeats but gets no response.

Thirty minutes later there’s a knock on the door, and after whining about how this is Wayne’s guest so he should be the one to get the door, Eddie sighs and opens it to reveal–

“Steve Harrington?” Eddie shakes off the shock and flashes him a mocking grin. “Well, well, well, what are you doing on the wrong side of town, Your Highness? Did you get lost?”

The title makes Steve’s nose wrinkle but he lets it slide. “Actually, your uncle invited me.”

Eddie’s jaw drops. “You’re our guest?”

With a shrug, Steve makes a ta-da! gesture. Eddie stares blankly at him.

“Um, are you gonna let me in, Munson, or–” he trails off, hanging a hand from his neck.

“Ed? Is that the Harrington boy?” Wayne asks, snapping Eddie out of it.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, come in, man.”

Steve gives him an awkward smile and steps inside.

After shaking Wayne’s hand, he politely asks if he can help and Wayne instructs him to fill three glasses with water. The sight of King Steve with his fancy green sweater and his perfect hair rummaging around their kitchen is so shocking that Eddie wonders if he fell into some alternate dimension. He’s glad that, despite his claim, he put on a red flannel and decent jeans instead of just sweatpants and a shirt with holes in it like he planned.

Still, Wayne could’ve done a better job warning him.

Not that Eddie wants to look good for Harrington or anything.

“Ed, get a chair for Steve,” Wayne says and Eddie dutifully brings the chair they almost never use to the table.

“Thanks,” Steve says, smiling softly.

Eddie isn’t used to pretty boys being nice to him so that’s the only reason why he falters, mumbling a you’re welcome and grabbing the seat furthest from Steve. Considering their table is small, it’s not far enough.

Dinner goes- surprisingly well, actually. Steve and Wayne talk about sports while Eddie rolls his eyes and makes comments about sport culture and conformity. He expects Steve to act annoyed like jocks do when he starts ranting, but he smiles amusedly instead.

And no, that doesn’t make Eddie’s stomach flutter.

After the sports talk, Wayne asks Eddie about his band. He expects Steve to tune him out since he probably doesn’t care what a freak like him does in his free time but he perks up, eyes going wide.

“A band? That’s cool, man!” He says and then starts throwing questions at him about the band’s name and the type of music they play. He even says he’d love to see them play someday.

Wayne’s knowing smile when Eddie blushes thankfully goes unnoticed by Steve.

When they’re done eating, Steve goes to his car to grab something while Wayne and Eddie clean up.

“Really? You couldn’t mention that our guest was Steve?”

“So you could lock yourself in your room? You’re the reason I invited him, boy.”

Eddie gasps. “This was a set up!”

“About time you brought a boy home.”

“Except I didn’t!” Eddie sputters. “You did.”

“You’re welcome.”

Steve comes back then, clearing his throat. “I know you do presents in the morning, but I still wanted to bring something.”

He gives Wayne a bottle of whiskey that probably costs more than his van and a small bag to Eddie. Inside, there’s a Beholder miniature.

“How did you–”

Steve starts rambling. “I know that you run that nerd club and this kid I know is obsessed with that game so I asked him what would be a nice gift for someone like you. He probably thought I was getting it for him and might be disappointed but–”

“Thanks, Steve,” Eddie interrupts once he finally finds his words.

Steve gives him a shy smile. And maybe this one makes his heart stutter.

When all they do is stare at each other, Wayne clears his throat.

Flustered, Steve announces he’s heading out. “Thanks for inviting me. I haven’t had a Christmas dinner in years.”

“You’re welcome, kid,” Wayne says. “Ed, will you see him out? Gotta get ready for my shift.”

“Sure, old man.”

At the door, Steve hesitates. “Sorry I crashed your Christmas dinner. Your uncle wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Eddie snorts, fiddling with the figurine. “He’s a stubborn old man.”

“Not that I didn’t have fun,” he quickly adds, “I did.”

“Yeah, uh, me too.”

Steve’s pink tongue darts out along his bottom lip.

“Like, enough fun that I could do it again.”

Eddie stops fidgeting and blinks at him. “Hang out with me and my uncle?”

“Or just you,” Steve says and he looks– almost nervous.

Oh.

There’s no denying the butterflies in his stomach this time. “Yeah,” Eddie says, watching Steve start to smile. “I’d like that.”

[stevesjockstrap]

Time After Time

@steddiemicrofic prompt ‘time’ wordcount 485

@steddiebingo square ‘help’

Rated T(?) • read on ao3 • OCD Steve, established relationship • skip if you’re sensitive to panic attacks

Eddie could tell the second he got into their apartment something was wrong.

There was always something playing, a record, a tape, a movie in the background. His boyfriend would even settle for the radio, but he said he needed the background noise, or his thoughts would spiral out of control.

Kicking off his shoes at the door, hurriedly placing them side by side next to Steve’s, he listened closely to the worrying silence.

“Babe?” He called, trying to suppress his shiver as it echoed through the space.

Quickly going from room to room, he finally found his partner crouched over, holding his head, breathing fast.

“Oh, Stevie,” he breathed. Even his low voice made Steve jump and he felt worse. “It’s alright, it’s only me. Can you tell me where you got stuck?”

Eddie had learned quickly as he’d courted the man that everything needed to be ‘just right,’ sometimes Steve himself didn’t know how it needed to be right, or more importantly why it would ‘feel wrong.’

“The stupid light. There’s not enough time between,” the words rushed out of him. “O-or it’s making the wrong noise, when I click it off. I just can’t do it any more times, Eddie,” he started sobbing into his chest.

Eddie could only nod, rubbing across his back with a flat hand. Even this worked up, he could feel Steve’s own fingers tapping against his arm, always in sets of three.

“I got you, darlin’. You want me to try? Or we can throw the whole lamp out the window,” he offered.

That at least pulled Steve away from his chest, his face red and tear stained. “No, I love this lamp. It’s just, I can’t-“

“Can’t get it just right. Well let me do it wrong for a second, yeah? You know how much I love being wrong. How many times did you do?”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “I did three, of course.” Things usually had to be in multiples of three, sometimes five worked but only occasionally. “It just didn’t click right, it didn’t feel done. I feel like I’ve been doing it for hours.”

“Okay my precious, let me give it whirl then.”

Steve watched warily as he went over to the lamp, as if it would turn and attack them. This was the worst he’d been lately. He wondered if something had set him off, something completely unrelated to this lamp debacle.

He twisted the lamp switch once, turning it off, then again to turn it on. Steve shook his head, so he did it two more times.

“Okay, let me try now,” Steve traded places with him, and he held him close, tucking his chin over his shoulder to watch.

Taking a slow deep breath, he finally reached out and spun the switch. Off on off. “There. You did it.”

“No, you did it. I’m so proud of you, baby.”

dividers credit @/cafekitsune

[apomaro-mellow]

Kitchen sex all the way for steddie bingo

Steddie Bingo Prompt: Kitchen Sex

Steve could die. He could actually die. And he'd toss himself off the balcony if he didn't think his mother would just call him dramatic and force his corpse to sit at dinner. Holiday parties were fun as a kid. He didn't mind the clothes and no one expected him to really talk and the food was good and he got to have dessert in his room.

Now that he was older and knew better, the banality of it all drained his soul. His parents weren't friends with any of these people, they were just business partners and colleagues. And everything else about them was fake too. The Chezwicks were staunch pro-life supporters but Steve knew both daughters had abortions. Darbie Everwood had some vague charity about helping the poor in Africa but frequently berated her mostly immigrant staff.

Steve's own parents talked about these people behind their backs and yet invited them into their home, all smiles. And Steve was expected to partake. He had learned the tricks of the trade. Smile and laugh, but don't look vapid. Play along and never let them know what you know until you needed something from them. And the most important thing he learned was how to keep his own secrets.

Steve checked the time on his watch and then looked out the window. He could see some white shirts, the catering staff, going on a smoke break. Which meant Steve's secret was waiting in the kitchen. He excused himself, and took a slightly roundabout way to get there. When he entered, all of the lights were off except for the oven hood's. It made the vast kitchen dark but the small light coupled with a bit of help from the moon through the window, Steve was able to make him out.

"Can't believe I'm missing a smoke break for you."

"You're more than welcome to go outside", Steve challenged, walking over to the silhouette near the light.

"And freeze my dick off? No thanks." A hand came up to cradle Steve's face and then trail into his hair, gripping the back of it. "Not when I've got you. And you're my good little cockwarmer, right?"

Steve let out a whine and crashed their lips together. They didn't have a lot of time. Not only would the staff be back after their break, but his father was going to call a toast soon. Steve would have been content to kiss him all night. But almost too soon, he was pulled away and then he felt lips on his neck.

"Eddie", he gasped in a whisper.

"I know we don't got long, sweetheart. How do you want it?"

"I wanna rub you off. And then shake hands with Fleming."

Eddie snickered against his neck and nibbled at his pulse. "The guy who cut funding for recreation?"

"Just so he can put more money in his own pockets." Because Steve's secrets were Eddie's too. He pushed Eddie against the counter and began to undo his belt. Eddie did the same for Steve, their hands fumbling in both the darkness and in their rush.

The hurry felt good. But Steve couldn't wait until tomorrow. His parents were going to the beach house for Christmas. Steve was going to the winter lodge. And he was bringing Eddie along. They both groaned as they finally got their hands on each other. Eddie stroked him, fast and dry and Steve did the same. Steve's lips found his neck. Eddie couldn't leave marks on him right now but the same was not true for Steve.

Eddie groaned at a particularly well placed bite. The sound tipped Steve over the edge and he was cumming, thinking of all the wonderful things he'd get to do to him in the lodge. He felt Eddie trembled against him and spill on his hand.

They cleaned up for the most part, readjusting clothes and hair and wiping their hands off. Eddie washed his in the huge industrial sink. While Steve went without. When he exited the kitchen, he made a beeline for Fleming.

@steddiebingo

Bingo card under the cut

[medusapelagia]

Steddie Events November Update

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Steddie Microfic ( @steddiemicrofic ) This month's prompt is guard | 532 words Event info

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As always feel free to reblog and add other events I might have missed!

Under the cut past events masterpost!

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Steddie Week 2024 ( @steddie-week ) AO3 Collection, masterpost fic, master post art

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[steddiehyperfixation]

aftermath

my @steddieexchange gift fic for @resande! here's some canon complaint kas/vampire eddie angst with a little side of hurt/comfort and a dash of fluff at the end <3 also happens to fit one of my @steddiebingo prompts: panic 6.3k words | rated t | ao3 link

People are always saying that dying is like falling asleep. But as Eddie lies there choking on his own blood, he thinks this is very much not like falling asleep at all. It’s not peaceful or easy or safe. There’s no sense of his soul being carried gently from one life into the next. It’s painful and terrifying and fucking heartwrenching, tears caught in his throat as well as the blood as he spends his last moments struggling to speak, trying to give the poor kid crying over him some parting words, some small comfort. Dustin’s already going to be traumatized for life from this, it’s the least Eddie can do.

Eddie’s breath rattles. Death rattles. His vision darkens, thoughts growing sluggish, and, oh, maybe this is the part that’s like falling asleep. The dull numbness spreading through his body, the looseness and heaviness of his limbs, the soft swooping sense of release as everything goes black.

He even dreams. Hazy scenes float in and out of his vague awareness, disjointed and nonsensical, as dreams often are. Breathing in the fresh forest air under the stars… Laughing with the kids… Kissing Steve Harrington... Maybe this is heaven. Blood on his hands and in his mouth… Fear and hatred burning in his friends’ eyes... A horrible creature with the appearance of a man skinned and scarred and mutated beyond all recognition of humanity standing at his side... Or maybe he’s in hell. The monster telling him, “Kill them, kill them all...” The air filling with sounds of pleading and screaming… No. No. This must be hell. A nightmare. He doesn’t want to know how this one ends. He sinks back into the blackness and he doesn’t dream again.

And then he wakes up.

Gasping and shivering, Eddie’s eyes fly open in the undeniable sharpness and solidness of reality. He’s acutely aware of his own body, of every sensation in and around it. A physical form feels almost foreign to him now after so long of dreaming untethered. Being alive is such an assault on the senses, has anyone else ever noticed that? He’s never felt so real, so cold, so hungry. “Fuck,” he gasps out as he heaves his upper body up from the cold hard ground he’d been laying on.

He’s sitting in the dirt, on the blood-soaked earth of a recent battlefield. Bodies of dead Upside-Down creatures lie scattered all around, including the corpse of his nightmare monster-man, whose head now sits quite a few feet away from its body. No human bodies lie among them, thank god. The humans, his friends, are all still alive, their victory apparently recent and the relief of it still fresh as they tend each other’s wounds and collapse into one another with tearful hugs. The sound of Eddie’s movement gives them pause, a collective apprehensive breath rippling through them. They all turn to look at him.

“Eddie!” Dustin’s face lights up and he moves as if to run towards him, but Steve almost immediately shoots his arm out to block him, holding the kid back with a firm hand on his chest as he steps protectively in front of him.

“Is that really you?” Steve asks with narrowed eyes and a voice harsh with distrust.

“Yeah, of course it’s really me,” Eddie answers. “Have I ever been someone else?” He means to say it like a joke, but his humor dies in his throat under the wary glares of not just Steve but everyone else as well. Even Dustin’s face has fallen into a hesitant frown. And suddenly the idea doesn’t feel all that funny; suddenly it seems like a very real possibility.

Robin is the one to confirm his growing fears. “Yeah, actually,” she says plainly, “you have. You just were.”

“Oh.”

It certainly explains things: how he got here, alive and back in Hawkins, when the last thing he remembers was dying in the Upside-Down; why he feels so unused to his own skin now; why his hands and face are currently sticky with blood that’s not his own; why Steve won’t let Dustin get close to him; why none of them will quite look him in the eye. Someone or something else had been parading around in his body, wreaking havoc or doing who knows what for who knows how long, while Eddie had been dreaming none the wiser. He shivers again, his stomach twisting, because not only is he cold and hungry still, now he’s also guilty. Guilty of something that’s made his friends afraid of him. He looks over each of them. They all appear to be in rough shape, not one of them unmarred by deep scratches or bruises; Steve even has a large bandage covering the side of his neck, the bloodstain seeping through shaped just like rows of teeth. Eddie can’t help but wonder which of those injuries were inflicted by his hands, if the claw marks on Dustin’s arm would match his own fingernails, if the bite on Steve’s neck would match his own teeth.

He rises unsteadily to his feet. Everyone takes an instinctive step back, flinching away from him, and Eddie raises his hands in what he hopes is a non-threatening gesture (although given the amount of blood they’re covered in, it might not actually be all that comforting).

“I, uh, I’m sorry f-for whatever I was, whatever I did,” he says shakily, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know- but I-I’m me now, I promise. I’m me, I’m Eddie. Good old confused and terrified Eddie.” He punctuates the end of that sentence with some self-deprecating jazz hands and then immediately cringes at himself. Back from the dead and still a loser, some things never change.

Dustin looks up and over at Steve. “I believe him.”

Steve frowns, his expression carefully guarded. “Yeah, well, we all believed him the first time around too, and look where that got us.”

“I didn’t,” Nancy speaks up. “The first time around, I never totally trusted him the way you guys did, but I think I believe him now too.”

“Yeah, Steve, I think maybe this time we really did get an extra win,” says Robin.

“Maybe.” Steve doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but he does relax his protective stance somewhat in favor of crossing his arms and turning slightly to look at the rest of the group while still keeping Eddie warily in his peripheral. “Anyone else care to chime in?”

“I never really met the real Eddie, so I wouldn’t know either way,” the remaining older teen of the group, who Eddie recognizes as Jonathan Byers, says with a shrug. “Do you guys, like, feel anything?” Jonathan directs the question towards two of the kids - his little brother Will and a girl with a growing out buzzcut, who Eddie assumes is probably that superpowered girl El he’s heard so much about.

Eddie watches, twisting his rings around his fingers as they all talk about him like he’s not there.

Will and El both shake their heads. “One is dead,” El says, and Will agrees, gesturing vaguely at the back of his neck, “There’s nothing there anymore.”

“So then obviously that’s the real Eddie,” Erica says like anyone who thinks otherwise is hopelessly stupid. “It was all a hivemind, right? Cut off the head and the body dies? Well, we cut off the head. Literally. Nothing under Vecna’s control could’ve survived that.”

So the beheaded monster-man corpse must’ve been Vecna(/Henry/One). Gross. For some reason Eddie had been picturing a much cooler-looking villain than that. Not that that’s at all relevant right now though. Bigger things to worry about.

“She has a point,” Lucas adds. “Kas was part of Vecna’s hivemind, so if Vecna is dead then Kas is dead too.”

“Kas?” Eddie questions, briefly drawing some of the attention back to him.

“That’s what we called you after we figured out that you…weren’t you,” Dustin explains. “As in-”

“As in Kas the Bloody Handed, Kas the Betrayer. Right. I get it.” Eddie’s more than familiar with the D&D character Kas, the deceptive and disloyal vampire who serves as the dark wizard Vecna’s right-hand man right up until Kas ultimately betrays him too; Eddie had only just used him in his own campaign. It fits, bloody hands and deception and all. Vecna’s minion. Eddie wonders if when the kids named him they did so with the hope that he might eventually fulfill his namesake and turn on this world’s Vecna as well, help them defeat him. He hadn’t.

Guilt again, running deep and dark and ugly in the cold hollow of his veins and his stomach. Guilt and hunger are really not a good mix. If his stomach twists one more time he thinks he might throw up. If there would even be anything to throw up. Did Kas ever eat?

The rest of the group has returned to squabbling amongst themselves over whether or not Kas could possibly exist outside of Vecna, and Eddie is just another problem to them, something to solve. He stands on the outside, trying to swallow down how uncomfortable he is, all his pain and fear.

He fidgets with his rings again, stares at his stained hands. Kas the Bloody Handed. For some reason, curiosity or instinct maybe, Eddie finds himself bringing his fingers up to his lips and licking tentatively at the blood still dripping from them. The tiniest touch and the sweet metallic taste explodes across his tongue, instantly bringing some relief to not only his hunger but the cold he feels as well, as if the blood is warming him from the inside out. His mind clears of everything except the craving of that relief. He laps up more, licking his hands clean. He shoves his fingers in his mouth to suck the remaining blood from them like a lollipop, and something sharp pierces his skin.

“Ow, shit,” he hisses, pulling his hand away and watching as the tiny pinprick wounds on his fingers close up and disappear within seconds. The sudden pain had snapped him out of whatever daze he’d just been in, and now the true horror of it all can begin to set in. Eddie lifts a shaking hand back up to his mouth and carefully feels along the edges of his teeth. Sharp, pointed. Fangs. Fuck.

“Uh, guys?” he calls out, interrupting whatever debate is still going on about him. “Your Kas didn’t happen to also be a vampire, did he?”

The attention turns towards him again, and his question receives the wary response of, “Yeah, why?”

Eddie grimaces, lips drawn back just enough to reveal the sharp new points of his teeth. “I, uh, I think he might’ve left something behind…”

“I fucking knew it,” Steve sneers with a bitter sort of vindication. He gestures sarcastically towards Eddie as he raises a bitchy eyebrow at everyone who’d spoken up in defense of the vampire. “You guys were saying?”

“Wait, that doesn’t mean he’s still Kas though,” Dustin protests.

“Look at him, Steve, he’s terrified,” Robin says. “That has to be real.”

“Kas was a good actor.” Steve looks at Eddie like it pains him to do so, a million contradictions in his expression. Though his face softens slightly, his eyes are hard and conflicted, so many unreadable emotions behind them. “I know that more than any of you. Besides, how else do you explain the fact that he’s still a vampire?”

“I’m not Kas,” Eddie insists, though no one really seems to be listening to him. He takes a deep breath and wills his fangs to retract - and, miraculously, they do. Maybe it will be easier if he looks more normal again.

He really shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve kept his sharp new teeth to himself instead of reigniting everyone’s suspicion. He’s not sure what he was thinking, only that he’s so fucking scared he needed to do something, and maybe some stupid desperate part of him was still clinging to the hope that his friends might give up on trying to solve him and start trying to help him. But clearly that’s not going to happen anytime soon. There's no comfort to be found here. He’s on his own with his fear and it's threatening to overwhelm him.

But he can't have a breakdown, not now, not here, not with these people. Eddie takes another measured breath and tries to redirect his growing panic into something safer, something more productive. Agitation maybe, frustration.

It's not too hard. Everyone is theorizing again.

“What if the vampirism wasn’t actually because of Kas?” Mike is saying. “What if it happened separately from Kas, like a mutation in just the body that maybe made it more viable for Kas or whatever, but not necessarily connected to him?”

“So when Kas died with Vecna, the mutation still stayed,” Will tacks on, nodding like it makes total sense. “It might even be what’s keeping the body alive still.”

“I’m not some fucking thing!” Eddie finally snaps. “And I’m right fucking here!” Predictably, there’s a collective flinch at his outburst, startled eyes snapping to attention. He huffs, pulling agitated hands through his grimey, tangled hair. “Look, I’m not a threat to any of you, alright? In fact, all I really wanna do right now is just go home and take a nice hot fucking shower because I’m exhausted and filthy and clearly I’m just freaking you guys out by being here. So if you’re all done trying to figure out what sort of monster I am, can I get going now or are you guys gonna try to stop me?”

There’s a bit of an awkward pause at that, like no one’s quite sure what to say or how to say it.

“You, uh, you can’t go home,” Robin tells him, a little apologetic scrunch to her face. “Not because we won’t let you or anything, it just kinda…doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Your trailer was destroyed when Vecna split the world open and your uncle moved to some government-paid-for house miles outside of town,” Nancy explains. “He was told you were dead, so…”

So Wayne didn’t have a reason to stay in Hawkins anymore, especially not if he had enough government hush money to afford somewhere nicer. Eddie can’t fault the old man for that, although this news does waver his current ability to keep holding himself together. He forces down the emotion rising in his throat. “Right.”

“You stayed at Steve’s last time,” Dustin offers helpfully, earning him a glare from Steve, which he then makes worse by amending, “Or, well- Kas did, while he was pretending to be you.”

Eddie graciously manages to ignore Dustin’s complete inability to read the goddamn room, and looks at Steve instead. “I take it that’s not an option this time?”

“I don’t know.” Steve crosses his arms and frowns as he considers Eddie with those fractured eyes of his. ���You can use my shower,” he decides finally, “just so that the sight of you wandering around covered in blood doesn’t send the whole town into another witch hunt again. But beyond that…I wouldn’t count on it.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Eddie says. He just needs to get out of here, as if a change of scenery might change his situation. Everything else he can figure out later when he’s not so singularly focused on trying not to fall apart.

“Great,” Steve says dryly, like he might already be regretting this decision.

He turns away from him again for more conversation Eddie's not part of anymore. But at least they're not talking about him this time. It's mostly just a basic discussion of what everyone's doing next: who's going to update Max (who apparently is currently blind and wheelchair-bound and couldn't be here for the main fight), who's going to stay and help dispose of all the Upside-Down creature corpses, when they're gonna regroup next, how long El thinks it will take for her to recharge enough to be able to use her mind powers to check on the situation in Eddie's head. Okay so maybe some of it is still about him.

Steve makes a comment about how his task is to “babysit the vampire,” and Robin must’ve caught the way Eddie grits his teeth a bit at that because she ducks away from the rest of the group to talk to him.

“Hey, Eddie. Cut him some slack,” she says, gesturing with a dip of her head towards Steve. “Kas messed with all of us, but he messed with Steve the most. This is especially hard for him, just give him some time.”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie folds his arms over his chest, his fingers pressing into his biceps like it might help to press down everything roiling inside of him. He’s getting antsier and antsier by the second, and Robin is absolutely not helping. His guilt flares again and so does his irritation, the two mixing like oil and water. He can’t even begin to imagine what awful things Kas had used him to put everyone through, and of course he understands that, but at the same time it’s not like this is all that easy for him either. No one seems to appreciate that Eddie is also having a terrible fucking time right now too.

“Oh, and you should know - if you somehow are still Kas and you fuck with him again, I will personally make sure that you join Vecna in the beheaded freaks club in the afterlife,” Robin adds, perfectly matter of fact, and Eddie doesn’t doubt her.

“Yeah, alright, Robin, I get it,” he assures her before she can say anything else to make him feel even worse. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Good.” She nods, apparently satisfied enough with his response, and the tiny half-smile she offers him then is the closest thing to sympathy or apology he’s received all day.

“Are you ready to go?” Steve approaches, swapping places with Robin as she falls back to rejoin the rest of the group.

Eddie nods, dropping his arms and rolling back his tense shoulders. “Lead the way, Stevie.”

Steve flinches. “Don’t call me that.” He turns sharply on his heel and starts walking off in long, quick strides.

Eddie nearly has to jog to catch up to him. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t respond and the rest of the walk to his house passes in a thick and heavy silence. He can still hardly seem to look at Eddie, always staying a few steps in front and keeping his eyes fixedly forward with the same sort of steeled and measured determination that Eddie is also currently employing. Like maybe they’re both trying not to have a breakdown.

Thankfully this horribly uncomfortable journey does not have to be suffered through for very long, and they soon emerge from the woods into the Harrington’s sprawling backyard. If Eddie was in any state to, he might’ve made some comment or joke, some dig about Steve’s rich-kid house, but now he stays quiet, mutely following Steve inside.

Steve gathers up a fresh towel and some clean clothes for Eddie to borrow. “Here. You can use the bathroom down the hall, second door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, sincerely. Steve only nods, looking away from him again.

And now Eddie is finally alone, in the biggest bathroom he’s ever seen in his life. His entire trailer could probably fit in here three times over and that’s only a mild exaggeration. There’s huge mirror above two sinks, a jacuzzi bathtub in one corner and a fancy shower with glass doors in the one adjacent, and in the center of it all there’s even this large circular cushioned seat, perfectly in front of the toilet just in case you wanted to have a friend come sit and chat while you take a shit. Again, this would be a comedy gold mine if only Eddie wasn’t already too distressed to appreciate it. Instead he hardly even takes a second to look around before he simply strips off his filthy clothes and makes a beeline for the shower.

The second those glass doors close behind him and the warm water hits his back, that flimsy little wall he’d been trying to build up around his emotion crumbles completely and all his fear and guilt and everything else tears out of him in a ragged sob that wracks through him so completely his entire body shudders and convulses with it. Another sob breaks through before the first one’s even finished, and then another and another and another. He’s choking on his tears, hardly able to breathe. His thoughts aren’t helping either, set free and spiraling through every awful thing he hadn’t been able to let himself dwell on earlier.

What did you do? You were used, violated, your hands have drawn blood, maybe even killed, why didn’t you stop it? His mind berates him, blames him. Kas had hurt and damaged and destroyed, every act seeping into and staining the vessel he’d used to do it, and then he’d left Eddie behind to carry the weight of it all on his own. Left him in the body of a monster, in every single way. You’ll need to draw blood again to live, drain the life of another living thing to sustain your own. Who or what will you hurt next? You’re a monster. A monster a monster a monster.

He’s never felt such despair or so trapped in his own skin. I can’t live like this. He sinks to the ground, curled in on himself and gasping, drowning, drowning in the roar of his mind and emotion and the water still beating down on him from the impassive shower head above him. His thoughts are becoming less and less complex or coherent with every hyperventilating breath until they ultimately solidify into simply: I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.

A hesitant knock on the door startles him suddenly. Maybe if he wasn’t so lost inside himself and the sound of his own sobbing he would’ve heard the footsteps passing by and then passing back, a wavering pacing before the knock even occurred, but he hadn’t, and so it startles him, his rapid breaths now freezing entirely for a moment.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice floats uncertainly from outside. “...Are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie manages, voice raw, and his lungs take the opportunity to resume with breaths even more panicked than before, as if to make up for the previous few seconds of suffocation.

“Are- You don’t sound fine,” Steve says after another moment of hesitation. “You…you kind of sound like you’re having a panic attack.”

Yeah, no shit. Eddie only curls up further, knees to his chest, arms in a death grip around his legs. He can’t find the breath to speak again. He can’t he can’t he can’t.

A few more seconds stretch by and then Steve knocks again, softly. “Can I come in?”

I can’t. Eddie couldn’t move to unlock and open the door for him even if he wanted to. His body won’t listen, too stiff, too busy shaking. I can’t. “I can’t-” Aloud this time, quick and broken through his gasps. “I can’t- I can’t get up.”

A much longer pause this time. Maybe Steve’s left. Eddie doesn’t know, doesn’t care - can’t care, mind too full and too loud. And why wouldn’t Steve leave? He’s already made it clear he still thinks Eddie is a monster. A monster a monster I can’t

Something clicks in the lock and the door swings open. “Oh, Eddie…” Steve whispers at the sight of him, immediately rushing to open the shower doors, turn off the water, and drop down to join Eddie on the floor. He pulls Eddie’s tense and trembling body into his arms and holds him against his chest.

Eddie’s head falls into the crook of his neck, too close to the artery there, too close to the sound of Steve’s blood and the monster inside of Eddie. He dips his head lower, tucking it under Steve’s chin instead. Safer. “I don’t- I don’t want to be a monster, Steve,” he sobs, in all the choppy, shaky speech he can manage. “I can’t- can’t live like this. I can’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Steve murmurs; soft, soothing voice. A hand comes up to gently stroke Eddie’s hair. “Just breathe, Eddie, you need to breathe. Can you do that? Can you breathe with me?”

Eddie can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of Steve’s chest beneath his head and he struggles to breathe in tandem with it. He manages one breath, two, but the third one breaks and shudders into another bout of hyperventilating.

“It’s okay, you got it,” Steve encourages, gentle and patient, still holding him, still stroking his hair in time with his even breaths. “Just keep breathing, keep breathing. That’s it,” he says as Eddie sucks in a deep inhale and tries again.

Slowly, very slowly, Eddie’s breath finally begins to consistently match the rhythm of Steve’s, and his shakiness starts to ease.

“There you go, good,” Steve continues to whisper. “That’s good, Eddie. You’re okay.”

Eddie’s recovered enough for some of the tension to drain from his body and he lets himself sag further into Steve’s chest with a heavy sigh. His coherence returned, he lets out a shaky, sniffly little laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too bitter as he says, “Does this mean you believe me now?”

“Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “Kas never would’ve cried like that.” He holds Eddie a little closer, fingers curling in his hair. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before.”

“S’okay,” Eddie mutters. “I get it. Robin said-” His voice wobbles still, tears pricking back up into his eyes. He takes a deep breath. “Robin said Kas messed with you more than the rest. What- what did he do to you?”

He can feel Steve shaking his head, his chin brushing against the top of Eddie’s hair. “Don’t worry about that.”

“I want to know.”

Steve is quiet for a moment. “Kas- well, you know he pretended to be you for a couple weeks before he turned on us, so he really fucked with everyone’s heads, but with me…for some reason with me he decided to fuck with my heart too,” he says finally, still incredibly vague and not actually offering much at all in the way of explanation, but Eddie gets the gist of it just fine.

“Oh.” It makes a little more sense now, the depth of pain in Steve’s eyes, why he found it so hard to look at him, why Robin was so protective. Kas hadn’t just betrayed Steve’s trust and friendship, he’d seduced him into thinking they were something more than that and then broke his heart too. Eddie feels like he might cry again. “I’m so sorry…” He lifts his head and sits up a bit, suddenly finding it kind of cruel to keep being cuddled up to Steve like that.

“It’s okay, it wasn’t you.” Steve’s arms fall away from him and he leans back slightly as if to give Eddie some space. His tone is reassuring enough, though his gaze has become avoidant again.

Eddie hadn’t really wanted Steve to let go of him, but maybe that’s cruel too. He pulls his knees back up tight to his chest, and it occurs to him also that he’s still quite naked.

This has evidently occurred to Steve too, because he’s already turning away to reach for the towel that Eddie had, in his rush earlier, dropped unceremoniously on the floor just outside the shower. “For your modesty, dude.” He cracks a lopsided smile as he tosses the towel over Eddie’s lap.

“Thanks,” Eddie returns the smile with a soft chuckle, grateful for the attempt at levity in the face of the awkwardness that’s beginning to settle back between them. A brief moment of respite before Steve shutters his expression of genuine affection and Eddie’s mind returns in force to all its guilt and worry.

Selfishly, he wishes Steve would still hold on to him, because he still feels like he could fall apart again at any moment. That wouldn’t be fair to him, though, and so Eddie simply holds himself a little tighter, arms wrapped firmly around his knees. Beside him, Steve has shuffled into a similar position, a little less tense and hunched maybe but still just as uneasy.

It’s a game of looking and looking away, eyes never quite on each other at the same time, neither of them sure what to say or what to do, only with a sense that there is something more that should be said or should be done.

“Um-” Bringing this up won’t help anything, in fact it will probably only make things worse, but Eddie starts to ask one of the questions on his mind regardless. “You said Kas messed with your heart, so did-?” He pauses, hesitates, then rephrases, “When I was…gone, I wasn’t really, um, aware of anything, but sometimes I would have these dreams, just little bits and pieces, and in some of them- in some of them I saw us kissing. So did that, uh- did that actually happen?”

Steve looks over at him. “Yeah.” He nods. His eyes land briefly on Eddie’s lips and then guiltily dart away. “Yeah, that actually happened.”

“Okay.” Eddie takes a breath, tapping his fingers against his shins, nervous to find out just what else exactly his body had been used for. “And was it only kissing, or did we- did you guys…?”

“No,” Steve is quick to reassure him, his eyes going wide as he shakes his head. “No, it was just kissing, that’s it, nothing else happened. We realized it wasn’t you before our, uh, relationship could progress that far.”

Eddie exhales in relief. “Good.” That probably would’ve sent him into another panic attack. Not that he’s necessarily opposed to the idea of sleeping with Steve Harrington, he’d just very much prefer to actually be there and present in his own body for that if it ever were to happen. So it’s a good thing it didn’t while he wasn’t. That worry, at least, is eased.

But something about the way Steve is looking at him - or rather not looking at him - is still stressing him out. He glances at Steve who glances away, and there’s still more that they’re not saying.

“There’s something else, though, isn’t there?” Eddie presses, his fingers resuming their nervous drumming. “Something else happened that you’re not telling me?”

Steve shakes his head again. “It’s nothing, it’s not- it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“Right, that’s super reassuring,” Eddie huffs. His mind could spiral through a thousand awful possible things it could be if he’d let it, and he’s trying very hard not to. “What- Did Kas hurt someone or something - like, seriously?”

“He bit my neck, tore up Dustin’s arm, and got Robin’s face pretty good too.”

Eddie had gathered that already. “But that’s not the thing you’re not telling me.”

“No, because it’s stupid. It’s not anything Kas did, it’s not a stain on your hands. He just knew how to get under my skin, is all. Don’t worry about it,” Steve insists.

“Too late, I’m already worried about it,” Eddie says, getting frustrated now. “And clearly you have something you want to say about it, otherwise you would’ve gotten up and left by now.”

Steve blinks like this analysis has thrown him. “I haven’t gotten up and left by now because I wanted to make sure you were okay. But I can get up and leave if you want me to.”

“For fuck’s sake, Steve!” Eddie bursts out. “Can you just fucking tell me!?”

“Fine!” Steve snaps back, then sighs and softens his voice, “Fine. Kas was a liar, I know that, so it really doesn’t matter anyways, but fine.” He runs a hand through his hair, hesitant and reluctant, wavering through a few false starts as if unsure of exactly how to tell it. “He’d just attacked us after we confronted him with our suspicions. I mean- his teeth had just been in my neck, the jig was up, and now he was just saying whatever he thought would hurt us most in that moment…”

Eddie nods with impatiently widened eyes, urging him to stop stalling and get to the goddamn point already.

“He told us you were dead, gone, whatever, but that he had access to all of your old thoughts and memories and feelings,” Steve finally starts approaching the point. “Kas never actually cared about me, he told me that and it wasn’t a surprise, but then- I mean, he could’ve just gone for easy and brutal and told me that you never gave a shit about me either, but no. No, Kas was so clever with his cruelty…” He falters again here, a bitter exhale and an awkward pause, not quite looking away from Eddie but not quite looking at him either.

Eddie curls apprehensively over his knees. “The suspense is killing me, man. What the fuck did he say about me?”

Steve takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself. “He said that you did give a shit about me? I mean, he said that he had just been going off of what was already there in your head, that he only…went after me the way he did because of the thoughts and, uh, feelings that you already had about me - or for me, I guess. I know he was probably lying though,” he barrels on before Eddie can even begin to react to any of that. “I think he just thought the ‘what if’s and ‘what could’ve been’s would drive me crazier, you know, hope always hurts more, and it did, he was right, but it’s fine. I know Kas was just a liar and a jerk and I shouldn’t believe a word he said-”

“Wait, Steve-” Eddie interrupts his nervous rambling, sitting up a little straighter. “Steve, he wasn’t lying - not about the, uh, my thoughts and feelings and stuff at least, not really.”

Steve finally looks at him, eyes a little bigger with surprise and a tentative hope. “He wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head in confirmation. “No, he wasn’t.” He shrugs, feeling nervous and strange, like a little kid with a crush as he admits, “I mean- Well, I mean, yeah, I’ve thought about you. Like, in school I’d always had a sort of…curiosity about you, I’ve always looked at you, of course I have, you know, you’ve seen you. And then when we actually spent some time together, I mean yeah we were stressed out and fighting monsters and shit, but I don’t know, I liked just being around you, I really did. So- It’s not like it really got the chance to develop all that much or anything, but yeah, the thoughts and feelings were there- are there. I, uh, like you, or whatever the kids are calling it these days.”

“Oh.” Steve's face slowly spreads into a smile. “Really? That’s good to know. I, uh, like you too, obviously. I just wish we could’ve been figuring this out under better circumstances.”

“Yeah. You know, in any other context, me naked on your bathroom floor would actually be the perfect circumstance,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. Steve laughs, a genuine burst that brightens his whole face, and, oh, Eddie would do just about anything to make sure that light stays in those gorgeous eyes forever. “I mean, seriously,” he continues teasing, “what the hell else are you supposed to use this bathroom for? There’s even a cuck couch in here and everything.”

Steve snorts, shoving at Eddie’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“But I guess it’s just not as sexy when I look like a drowned rat and my face is still all red and puffy from crying, though, huh?” Eddie laments, his theatrics embellished with a mock pout.

“Says who?” Steve smirks and sits up on his knees to shuffle closer. He lifts a hand to Eddie’s cheek, gently tilting his face up. “I still think you’re beautiful.”

Eddie blushes, heart and lungs and brain rendered suddenly utterly useless. His dramaticism has shorted out and all he can manage is a flustered “Shut up.”

“I mean it.” Steve smiles at him, so softly, so warmly. Hard to believe that only a mere minute ago they were in the midst of the world’s most awkward conversation ever. Not that Eddie’s complaining at all about this turn of events though. Steve’s thumb brushes over his cheekbone. “And if you’re okay with it, I’d really, really like to kiss you - the real you this time.”

Yeah, Eddie is definitely not complaining. “I’m absolutely okay with it,” he says, the words barely past his lips before he’s getting a hand in Steve’s hair and tugging him closer.

They meet in the middle in a slow, sweet kiss, lips sliding together unhurried. The panic that had been sitting in Eddie's chest for so long is now entirely replaced by something warm and sparkly blooming through him, the remainder of his tension and worry melting away in favor of savoring the simple feeling of Steve's mouth against his. It's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted, a tenderness he's never known before. He could get lost in it forever.

Forever, however, happens to only be about 30 seconds, the kiss breaking when their growing smiles soon get in the way.

“Hmm,” Steve hums as they pull apart grinning, cradling Eddie’s face in both hands now.

“What?” Eddie asks breathlessly.

“Nothing, it's just, you’re softer than Kas was,” Steve muses. “I like it.” He kisses Eddie again, brief but lingering. Their foreheads rest against each other as Steve smiles softly at him and says, “I’m glad you’re you again.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo.

You're a Fucking Dickhead

12 Days of Christmas Prompt: Soulmate | Word Count: 1894 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Soulmate AU, College AU, Modern AU, Meet Cute, Or: Meet Ugly, Soulmarks, Invisible Strings, Hijinks Ensue, The Universe Had to Work Overtime on These Two

I actually got assigned the prompt "soulmates" on both of my Christmas and New Year's bingo cards. Instead of trying to double-up, I decided to just make them companion pieces. Here are the links to both:

Part 1: Steve POV | Part 2: Eddie POV | Also on AO3

They are intended so they could be read standalone, but I wrote Steve's first, so I suggest starting here if you want to read both.

Steve pushes his sleeves up, realizes, and pushes them right back down despite it being sweltering in this auditorium. As much as he prides himself on being confident in his own skin, on being exactly who he is, no apologies, this little three inch line of text scrawled on his arm is the bane of his whole existence. He hates it. 

Robin glances over at him, and gives him a raised eyebrow. Yeah, yeah. He had promised he would cut it out once they were at college, but fuck, old habits die hard. He's only a senior. Maybe he'll go to grad school and he can stop hiding his arm then. Plenty of time.

"I know," he hisses at her, and he's told himself over and over that someday he won't care. That someday he'll just let it all hang out. So what if his so called soulmate is out there somewhere waiting to meet him, only to say: You're a fucking dickhead!

Yeah, sign him up for that. Not.

No matter who it is, Steve isn't interested. He's going tell them to fuck right off. If he ever meets them. He hasn't yet, and he's not exactly frothing at the bit to do it soon.

He focuses back on the professor, and he's almost made it through undergrad. Six more weeks. He can do this.

"A frat party? Steve. No," Robin says, and Steve is just nodding.

"Steve, yes," he says, smiling wide. "We'll get some bathtub punch, maybe bum a joint. C'mon. Maybe we'll even get laid."

"Dingus, the odds of me getting laid at a frat party are negative seventy-five thousand."

"Then let me get laid. Rob, please. For me," and he gives her the eyes. They always work, and he spins around after she reluctantly nods her consent to his plan. 

"You've gotten laid plenty," she argues.

"That's patently untrue," he lies. "I'm in a dry spell."

"It's been four days."

"It gets mighty cold at night," he says, and she laughs and pushes him, but she'll go.

He might not have good soulmate prospects, but he does have the best best friend a guy could ask for, and his charm, which he's applied liberally all up and down the eastern seaboard.

So, yeah. Tonight is gonna be awesome, he just knows it.

Tonight is not awesome, Steve thinks, as he's shoved so hard he stumbles. The guy is bigger than him, but honestly just caught him off guard. Steve doesn't know what the fuck his problem is. It's a party. They're supposed to be having fun. But this? This is not fun.

All Steve did is walk by, and now he's fucking stumbling like he's drunk, which unfortunately he is not since he hasn't even had one drink yet, but his balance is already a distant memory. He catches his shin on the edge of a coffee table, and that really fucking smarts. Then, he's going down. There's no other possibility. No way to catch himself.

"Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!" Steve shouts, sliding over the table on his knees, tipping over cups and bottles, knocking everything in his path off to the hardwood floor with a clatter, before finally coming to a stop with a thud on top of the person sitting on the couch. That's fucking embarrassing.

"You're a fucking dickhead!" The guy under him laughs while patting Steve's back, and it sounds amused, not angry. But those words. Those are his words. Steve freezes. But not for long, because he's unceremoniously being shifted and dumped into the lap of the guy on the right. 

Big blue eyes, and a mop of curls, looking down at him, asking, "What'd you say?"

"Huh?" Steve asks, trying to right himself.

Oh. The guy — his soulmate? — wasn't talking to him. He was talking to the guy who shoved him.

"What did you say when you literally fell in Eddie's lap?" he asks.

Eddie. His soulmate's name is Eddie. Steve has no fucking clue what he said, but he's guessing that whatever it is, it's scrawled somewhere on Eddie's body and his friend here knows that. 

Steve's ignoring ol' blue eyes, and trying to turn to get another glimpse of Eddie, to see what he's doing, to see if he's gonna fight for his honor or some shit.

He's not fighting, but he does have the guy in a headlock. But they're both laughing. What the fuck is happening right now?

"What the fuck, Goods? You just laid that poor guy out, say you're sorry," Eddie is telling the dude who shoved him. Who looks far less scary with his head tucked under Eddie's armpit. He's all red-faced and curly-headed, squirming, but looking amused. 

"I'm sorry," the shover laughs out, and Steve is still trying to slide off the other guy's lap. "It was an instinct! A remnant from high school. Get bullied, push back, that's what you always said!"

His supposed soulmate knows the asshole that knocked him clean off his feet for no good reason? Well, that's just great. Very promising. He knew he was in for a bad time with the words alone, and now he's been knocked clean off his feet, and not in a good way.

"He was bullying you?" Eddie asks, face looking serious.

"I was not!" Steve says. He's never even seen this guy before. He walked by him in the crowded room, and then was shoved.

"He stepped on my foot!" 

Eddie laughs, "He stepped on your foot, so you shoved him in my lap?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd mind!"

"What's going on here?! I just went to the bathroom, there wasn't even a line!" Robin screeches. "Now Steve is sitting in Gareth's lap? How do you know Gareth? You can't sleep with Gareth!" Robin is rambling, talking with her hands, flailing and fluttering with all her might. 

How do you know Gareth? Steve thinks. 

She's all worked up. Well, she can join the club.

"I'm fine. We're fine, I think? I'm not sleeping with Gareth?" Steve says, but his voice trails upward, unsure. 

"Not a question. Absolutely not. No offense," Gareth says, and well, that's kinda rude.

"Look what you've done, now you've made his girlfriend mad," Eddie says, still not releasing the guy who caused this whole situation. 

"Ew, gross. Not my boyfriend," Robin says, way too fast. 

"She's a lesbian," Gareth says, and Steve wants to wheel on him. Gareth better not have a problem with that, but Steve can only fight one battle at a time, and Robin offending him always takes precedence.

"Don't be so disgusted," Steve complains, and then turns to look back at Gareth, "Same for you. I'm a catch."

"Do you still have a dick?" Robin asks, her go-to response in this situation. He knows the script.

"What she said," Gareth adds.

"I still have a dick," he confirms quietly.

"Well, we're all glad to hear it," Eddie says, finally letting his friend go. 

Another guy walks up, looks between all of them, "What's going on?"

"Jeff?" Robin questions.

Robin knows Jeff? Who's Jeff?

"Hey, Robin," Jeff says

"How do you know Jeff and Gareth?" Steve asks, whoever the fuck they are, but he's being ignored.

 "Oh, Jeff, you picked the exact worst time to wander off. Short story: Goodie pushed this guy—"

"Goodie's here, too?" Robin interrupts.

Gareth keeps talking, "—and get this, turns out, this dude is Eddie's soulmate."

Eddie turns his head, "What'd you say? Gareth, why do you think…" he trails off, and then looks down at his arm.

"You're Goddamn, Fuck You, Motherfucker?" Jeff asks, as if that's Steve's legal name.

Steve laughs, "Well, I prefer Steve, but I'll answer to anything, I guess."

Everybody laughs.

"Jeff, help me. Eddie tried to take my head off my neck," Goodie complains. Which, honestly, the nerve. He started this whole fiasco. Steve was minding his own goddamn business.

"You pushed my soulmate. You got off easy, my child," Eddie says, circling Goodie, clearly teasing him. 

Eddie. Gareth. Goodie. Jeff. Steve's putting these names to faces, because he's afraid it might all be important later. Maybe forever. 

These people are a circus and a rodeo all rolled into one. 

He feels sick to his stomach. In a good way? A bad way? He isn't sure. All this time, and he still somehow wasn't ready for it. This scenario wasn't even in his wildest of dreamed up scenarios. Yeah, he got pushed. But his proposed soulmate doesn't appear to be a total dickhead either. 

"Let me see," Steve says quietly, a demand more than a question, and Eddie stops what he was doing, stepping closer. His arm is right out there, uncovered, for all the world to see. And that's for sure his own handwriting.

Goddamn, fuck you, motherfucker!

Plain as day.

Steve reaches out and brushes his thumb against Eddie's mark, and suddenly he feels like he's riding lightning.

"Holy shit," Eddie says.

"Uh, yeah," Steve answers. 

"Wanna get out of here?" Eddie asks, and Steve is nodding before Eddie's finished asking. 

His body feels warm.

But Robin, "I'm with Robin. I need to-"

"Nope, dingus. Go. I'll ride with Jeff. Or Gareth. Or Goodie," she says. "I can take my pick. I know them all."

"How do you know Jeff, Gareth and Goodie?" Steve asks, because he feels like he's losing his mind.

Jeff waves. So the other two follow suit.

"Jeff and I have had like a thousand classes together," Robin says, and Jeff is nodding in agreement. "We studied together all last year. Do you not recall all the, 'I'm going to study at Jeff's' that I said, week after week?"

Steve shakes his head. He does not.

"You were in our house! All the time!" Eddie says, pointing at Robin. "I have seen you before! I knew you looked familiar!" 

"Yeah, obviously," she says, rolling her eyes, "Anyway. Gareth's in my film class. And Goodie's in the marching band."

Steve feels like he's going insane. He got pushed by a marching band geek? Then there's Eddie, his soulmate, and apparently Robin's just been running in Eddie's whole goddamn circle without his knowledge. What? How?

He can't. Not right now. He needs to process this later. Maybe with a flow chart pointing out all the invisible strings that have been forming, trying to connect them.

"You'll get her home safe?" Steve asks, because that's all that matters.

"They will," Eddie assures, and puts his palm in the middle of Steve's back. Steve can feel it even through his shirt.

Steve looks back at Robin, slightly helpless. 

She takes a step forward, "If you don't-"

"I do," he interrupts, "I do."

He really does.

"Gross, go then," she says, holding up her hands, and when Eddie takes a step forward to lead them out, he goes.

Steve sneaks looks at Eddie as they make their way through the crowded house. He's pretty. Not what he'd expected, not that he'd ever really had a good mental picture of what his soulmate might look like. He'd been too focused on the harsh words, that he hadn't tried to form them into a real person.

Eddie's real.

He's so fucking real.

They step out into the night, and Eddie stops on the sidewalk, meeting Steve's eyes, smiling wide, "Your place or mine?"

Read Eddie's POV next.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun! 💞

Notes: I don't think I've written soulmates before, so I'm not sure if I've stayed with the trope or veered into left field, but I know I had fun with this one. I loved the idea that their first words in each other's presence would be something so unhinged, lol. And Goodie shall never let either of them forget that their soulmarks were spoken to him not each other.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A purrfect Christmas

Written for day 16 of the @steddieholidaydrabbles, and the 12 Days of Christmas bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompt: Tree (for both)

Rated: G

Tags: Established relationship; Domestic fluff; Cat dads Steddie; Christmas

Notes: Set in the same universe as this one

Steve chucks off his muddy boots in front of the apartment, groaning when his grocery bags almost slip from his hands in his attempt to unlock the door. 

“I’m home,” he calls, swiftly kicking the door shut again. Alfie has a tendency to escape, and if there’s one thing he doesn’t feel like doing tonight, it’s chasing an adventurous kitten all through the apartment building. “Just so you know, I’m not setting foot into another store before the holidays are over, it’s madness out there.” 

The only answer he gets is a delighted mrrrrp. That, and the feeling of a small, furry body rubbing against his calves. 

“Hey Gus,” Steve says. “Where’s your brother and dad?” 

“Meowr,” says Gus helpfully, weaving between Steve’s legs as he makes his way into the apartment. 

“Yeah yeah, I bought you food,” Steve grouses. “At least let me walk into the kitchen? I swear to God, one of us is going to break all the bones in his body if- Jesus Christ!” 

One of the bags lands on the floor as Steve clutches the living room door for support. The ornament he just slipped on rolls off into the shadows and Gus gives chase with a delighted mewl.

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bending down to retrieve his fallen bag. There’s two more ornaments lying a few feet off, and another one behind those. An entire trail of them, leading all the way into the living room, right up to … 

The second bag thunks to the floor. 

“Eddie?” Steve calls, voice weak and shaky. “Eddie, why is the tree upside down?” 

“Oh, you’re home!” Eddie pops his head out of the kitchen. “Do you like it?” 

“Do I- what?” Steve stammers. The grocery bags are left abandoned in the hallway as he wanders further into the living room, eyes glued to the sight in front of him. “Why- … It was normal when I left, why did you-” 

“Pffff, define normal.” Eddie walks into the room, Gus trailing by his heels, tail raised in a high, excited arch. Alfie is perched on his shoulder, eyeing the hanging tree with shivering whiskers and a twitching tail. “Did you know that the tradition of hanging fir trees from the ceiling actually dates back to all the way to medieval Germany? Lore has it that it was invented by Saint Boniface in an attempt to remind his fellow citizens-” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve interrupts him. Eddie snaps his mouth shut but doesn’t stop grinning. “Thanks for the history lesson, but- … I don’t see why … What’s Saint What’s His Face got to do with our Christmas tree?” 

Eddie watches him gesture helplessly at the inverted tree and shrugs.  

“Excellent question, honey. Legend says it was a symbol for the Holy Trinity, but my personal assumption is that the good man must’ve been a cat dad.” 

Steve stares at him. Eddie grins proudly. On his shoulder, Alfie starts to purr, like he knows they’re talking about him. 

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Steve says at long length. “Tell me why the dead German dude had cats.” 

“Well, it’s obvious,” Eddie claims. He throws out a hand to point at the hanging tree. Alfie makes an indignant sound as he sways on his shoulder. Gus stares up at him with the adoring look of a younger sibling wishing they could be half as cool as their older brother. “You know how our two charming little rascals here have been wreaking havoc on the tree? Well, you can’t climb and tip over something you can’t reach, can you, boys?” 

Gus lets out a pathetic little mewl, like a child deprived of their favorite toy. Alfie tilts his head like he's hoping it will magically turn the tree back around. Steve, who spent the better part of yesterday putting the tree back up and gathering scattered ornaments and snapped branches off the living room floor, shuts his mouth and wrinkles his brow.

“That's… actually a good idea.” 

Eddie's chest puffs out. “I know, right? Took me the better part of the day to set up, and I still need to find a way to keep the ornaments from falling off, but it might be worth the effort if- Alfie, no!” 

Steve is just on time to see Alfie crouch, ears pressed flat against his head, ass wiggling in the air as he takes aim. Then he jumps. He hits the tree like a tiny, furry projectile, sending it swaying with the force of his impact, and immediately starts swatting at the nearest ornament. On the ground, Gus mewls his adoration. 

The ceiling creaks. 

“Okay,” Eddie breathes, deliberately calm, holding out his hands and approaching Alfie one inch at a time. “Okay, lesson learned. Nobody’s using me as a climbing post for the next four weeks. Now come back down and everything-” 

Gus jumps, grabbing the tip of the tree with all four paws. For a moment, he hangs there, smug satisfaction written all over his face. 

Then the tree comes down. 

A rain of pine needles and mortar and ornaments descends on the living room. Two shrieking blurs of fur shoot over Steve’s feet and out of the door, claws leaving marks in the carpet.

“Gandalf and Radagast Harrington-Munson!” Eddie hollers. “Come back here and- Why are you laughing?” 

“Y’know, this is on us, really,” Steve says, wiping the tears from his eyes and reaching out to pick a twig out of Eddie’s hair. “Maybe we should wait until they’re older before we try putting up a tree again.”

Eddie scowls, so he leans in to kiss it off his lips. 

“I thought this was a good idea,” Eddie whines when they pull apart. “And now look at this. It’ll take forever to clean up.” 

Steve shrugs, pecking his cheek and grabbing his hand to pull him from the room. “Leave it for tomorrow. For now, we have two traumatized kittens to check on.” 

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[katyawriteswhump]

fallen angel (steddie holiday drabble/bingo)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 15 prompt, “ornament;” @steddiebingo prompt, “candle;” @whumpcember day 15 prompt, ‘broken glass.”

WC: 988 Rating: T; CW: none. Tags: fluff, angst, established steddie, flashbacks to less happy childhoods, happy ending.  Summary: Steve and Eddie discover a sad moment in their pasts that intertwined and turned surprisingly magical in the present…

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“We agreed we weren’t doing the c-word, Eddie.”

Steve had gotten in from a late shift at Family Video. Robin had made him eat forfeit candy every time somebody complained Die Hard wasn’t in stock. He felt kinda icky and grouchier than ever over seasonal bullshit.

“We’re not, Babe.” Eddie rummaged in a box, retrieving something that suspiciously resembled a tinselly garland—though chewed by generations of hungry mice.

Steve nearly bitched, Unless you’re gonna tie me up with that sparkly shit, please remove it before I stuff it down your throat.  Then he realized. It was THE box, which contained all Eddie had from his childhood. He kneeled at Eddie’s side, hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Mom used to wear the garland to dance at midwinter. She was a total flowerchild.” Eddie placed it back carefully. “Stevie, can I show you something? If you hate it, you never have to see it again.”

“Okay.”

Steve slid his arms around Eddie. He’d put up with most shit, if snuggles accompanied it. Eddie definitely gave off ‘need-more-snuggles’ vibes. Steve lifted Eddie’s hair, nibbling kisses beneath, while Eddie raised a crude clay ornament from the box’s depths.

An angel.

A childish painted angel, with a niche for a candle, that’d been broken and painstakingly glued back together.

Steve’s angel.

His heart gave a thunderclap then raced insanely.

“Wow… I never thought… Oh my fucking God.”

…

Twelve years ago

On the final day before winter break, the entire school was in the sports hall—supposedly doing crafts, though truthfully having a mass clay-fight.

Steve, however, liked clay modelling. Following the lead of fellow ‘non-nerd’ Chrissy—who also wanted to make rather than break something—he sat down at the ‘nerd’ table. Also following Chrissy’s lead, he began modelling an angel candle-holder.

Tommy H said only girls and weirdos made ornaments. Steve didn’t care. Even when Tommy chucked clay at him and it stuck in his hair. Even when that Munson freak came to chat with Chrissy and smirked at him.

He was making the angel for his mom, who liked everything clean, white and perfect. She’d like angels, right?

That evening, he waited till she’d stopped yelling about the clay on his clothes and in his hair. They were waiting for Steve’s babysitter, and she seemed in a good mood, so… “Mommy, I made this for you.”

She stared at it. Actually, through it. “Heavens. Is that why you ruined a brand-new sweater.”

The phone rang. Steve twitched his face, sniffed.

He was still holding out his angel like an idiot, when his mom told him the babysitter was sick. “We can’t let the Wheelers down. You’ll have to take care of yourself.”

The door closed. Steve’s face burned as if slapped. He stared at the angel—her brown splotchy eyes, her wonky pink smile. He’d not even put a candle in her. She was as idiotic and unlovable as he was.

He opened his hand and watched her smash on the parquet floor.

He ran to his room without picking up the pieces, though it’d get him in deep shit. He was burying his dumb tears in his pillow, when his worst nightmare got real—the one that always haunted him when his parents left him alone.

The crash of a breaking window.

…

Eddie’s dad called the posh folks’ party season ‘Santa’s giveaway.’ Tonight, Eddie learned why.

It was child’s-play to spot the empty houses—if the parents had left snot-nosed brats with babysitters, there’d be at least one light on. Trouble was, the locks got more sophisticated each year, forcing Al Munson to go ‘old school.’

Smash a window. Send a kid through to go open the door from inside.

There Eddie was, scrambling through, trying not to gash his knee on the broken glass. “It’s kinda Dickensian,” his pa said, “The old ways are sometimes best, son.”

Screw you, thought Eddie, skidding onto the polished floor. He tiptoed forward till his foot, and his torch-beam, struck something on the boards.

Huh?

A clay candle-holder, like Chrissy’s. But this wasn’t Chrissy’s angel. It was Harrington’s.

Eddie had never seen Harrington so serious about anything other than sport. He’d snickered, though admired the younger kid’s geek-like devotion to his art, wondering if Harrington might not always be such an a-hole.

He carefully picked up the broken pieces. It made him sad, somehow.

“Eddie,” Al hissed through letterbox. “Hurry the fuck up, kid.”

Eddie stuffed the angel in his pocket and opened the door.

…

Eddie held out the angel, watched Steve’s eyes stretch wide. Breath bating—and not actually looking like he wanted to punch Eddie—he took it.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “The night I broke this, we got burgled! I figured it was lost in the clear-up. I mean, I was there alone, hiding under my bed. I had nightmares for…” He trailed off, hazy eyes focussing, laser-sharp, on Eddie. “How the hell did you..?”

Eddie spilled it all. He held Steve’s hand, thumb gently caressing, as they literally put the pieces together.

“I can’t believe your dad made you do that,” breathed Steve, engulfing Eddie in a clingy hug. Eddie was so relieved. The burglary was the only secret he’d kept from Steve, and Steve was sweet and cool about it. They also both understood a little more about why they were both slightly allergic to the c-word. “One thing I don’t get,” said Steve, “why did you keep it?”

“Truthfully? I wanted to model something too, but was too busy fooling around. Oh, and had nobody to give it too. Keeping it was totally crazy, apart from…” Eddie plastered a teasing, wet kiss on Steve’s lips. “Hey, all those years I thought you were a dick? Seems I was secretly carrying a candle for you after all.”

Steve’s smile spread slowly and showered starlight through Eddie’s world. “Yeah? Well, after all these years, I’ve discovered I made her for somebody I truly love.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

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

[fkinkindagauche]

A Golden Opportunity

This one's a fill for two prompts from my @steddiebingo Twelve Days of Christmas Mini-Event card - 1) Elf, and 2) Threesome.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 3,142 | Tags: Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Threesome (M/M/M), Spitroasting, Come Marking, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Light dom/sub, Bratty Bottom Steve Harrington, Top Eddie Munson, Misuse of an Elf Costume

Read on AO3

Steve, dressed in bright green tights and an itchy red and green tunic, walked down a line of snot-ridden, screaming kids. This absolutely had to be one of the circles of hell. And he'd seen some shit, so that was saying a lot.

He tried to remember how he'd even found himself in this hellish temporary job. Robin was home from college for the holidays and trying to earn some extra cash, so she'd taken a job as one of Santa's elves at the department store in town. Steve, desperate to spend as much time as possible with her on her break and also short on cash now that he'd burned all his bridges with his family after moving in with Eddie, had followed suit. But Robin wasn't even here today to make things tolerable, and he was very much regretting his decision.

"Hey, no cutting!" he yelled at a mean-looking kid trying to elbow a little girl out of the way. The kid gave Steve an unimpressed once-over and continued to jostle the girl. Steve had about had it with these assholes, so he walked forward and grabbed the kid by the collar of his coat, lifting him off the ground and out of line.

"Hey, what the hell!" the kid yelled, kicking out at Steve. He connected with one of Steve's shins. Steve yelped and dropped him, hopping on one leg as he rubbed his shin, the bell on his stupid hat jingling.

"You little shit!" Steve yelled. The line had quieted down when their altercation started, so unfortunately he yelled into relative silence as a whole line of kids and their parents watched him.

Steve saw his boss Diane, the head elf, striding toward him with a stormy face.

"My office now, Harrington," she barked. He followed her into her "office" which was a small shed repurposed with a hastily made "Santa's Workshop" sign.

"You're fired," she said with no preamble. "Gonna need the outfit back."

Steve sighed. Robin was gonna be so pissed at him. "I wore it here. You want me to walk back out there naked?"

Diane glared at him. "As if you haven't done enough damage today. Bring it back tomorrow."

"Fine," Steve said, with absolutely no intention of bringing the outfit back tomorrow. He was never coming back to this hellhole again.

Diane walked back out to the line of parents and kids, apologizing for her rabid elf as she went. Steve sighed and grabbed his coat from the corner where he'd stashed it.

He walked through the mall glaring as people stared and giggled at his ridiculous costume. His shoes were pointed at the tip with little bells on the end, and he had a red and green hat that also jingled as he walked, so he was nothing if not noticeable.

Once he made it back to his apartment complex, he took the stairs up to his apartment as fast as he could, trying to avoid seeing any neighbors while in his elf costume. He didn't want to have to yell at sweet Mrs. Benson for commenting on it, but wasn't sure he could stop himself in his current mood.

"Well, how's my slutty little elf doing?" Eddie sang as Steve walked in the door to their apartment. Steve shot his most withering glare at him.

"Oh, not good?" Eddie asked, pulling Steve in for a kiss.

Steve kissed him, because he couldn't ever resist kissing Eddie, but he maintained a frown through the whole kiss.

"I called a kid a little shit, because he was, and everyone in the line heard," Steve grumbled. "Diane saw."

"Oh, shit. Did she fire you?"

Steve sighed, slumping onto the couch. "Yes," he groaned.

"Well, that's bad news," Eddie muttered, sitting down next to him. Steve braced himself to hear about overdue bills, but when Eddie continued all he said was, "I love this costume. Do you have to give it back?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Your obsession with this costume is weird, Eddie."

"I can't help what I like, Steve. And I like saucy little elves with great asses." Eddie pulled on Steve's shoulders, coaxing Steve into his lap. Steve clambered over, legs straddling Eddie's thighs.

Eddie pushed his hands up under Steve's tunic, hands traveling back to grab handfuls of Steve's ass through his tights. Steve groaned, shifting forward to feel his cock brush against Eddie's jeans. Eddie was already hard; the man was nearly always horny.

Steve reached up to at least take off his dumb little hat and stop it from jingling with his every movement, but Eddie grabbed his wrist. "Leave it on. For me?" Eddie pleaded, brown eyes huge.

"Fine," Steve huffed. He was helpless in the face of Eddie's puppy dog eyes.

Steve leaned forward to kiss Eddie, tangling his hands in Eddie's hair. Eddie stuck his hands into Steve's tights, palming over the bare skin of his ass. He pressed a finger into Steve's crack, rubbing lightly around his rim without pushing in.

Steve groaned and pressed his hips forward. He was hard now, too, hungry for the brush of Eddie's cock against his own. He reached down to undo Eddie's belt, shifting for a moment to shimmy Eddie's jeans and boxers down his thighs.

He settled himself back in Eddie's lap. Eddie's finger returned to his rim, delicately teasing but unwilling to press in dry. Steve pushed his cock against Eddie's. He didn't have underwear on beneath his tights, so there was only a thin layer of fabric between them.

"Stevie," Eddie moaned. "Wanna bend you over the couch and fuck you with your little elf costume on."

"You are so weird," Steve muttered. But he also wanted to be bent over the couch and fucked, and he didn't care if he stayed in costume while they did it.

He disentangled himself from Eddie and stood up. Eddie pouted at him. "Well? Go get the lube," Steve sassed, hands on his hips.

Eddie's face lit up and he scrambled off the couch, pulling up his pants so he could run to the bedroom. He stumbled back into the living room as Steve was bending himself over the arm of the couch, ass out to the room with his face near the couch cushions.

"Fuck yes," Eddie muttered. He threw the bottle of lube onto the couch as he positioned himself behind Steve. Eddie gripped Steve's waist for a moment, hands squeezing, then traveling down to flip Steve's dumb little tunic up. Eddie palmed over Steve's ass through the green tights.

"What if I just cut a hole in these so we could leave them on?" Eddie mused.

"Absolutely not," Steve snapped. "The tights come down or you don't get to fuck me."

Eddie sighed dejectedly. "Fine," he grumbled. He pulled the tights down until they were below Steve's knees, finally freeing Steve's straining cock. Steve heard the sound of Eddie pushing his own pants back down, then Eddie was crowding against his back, sticking his cock between Steve's thighs and rubbing it against Steve's balls.

"Fuck, you are so hot," Eddie mumbled. He kept moving lazily between Steve's thighs until Steve grabbed the lube and brandished it over his shoulder at him.

"You said you were going to fuck me, Munson," Steve complained. "I'm not feeling any fucking."

"So impatient," Eddie scolded, smacking one of Steve's ass cheeks playfully. He grabbed the lube from Steve's hand and snapped the lid open. Eddie pulled his cock out from between Steve's thighs, pulling Steve's cheeks apart with his hands.

He must have just been staring at Steve's asshole for a few moments like the freak that he was. Finally, though, Steve felt a cold drizzle of lube on his ass, and then Eddie's thumb stroking over his rim. It pressed in gently, Eddie pulling slightly. He toyed with Steve's rim using his thumb for a few moments until Steve started to wiggle impatiently.

Eddie laughed, but gave Steve what he wanted, pushing a finger inside of Steve. He worked it in and out slowly, giving Steve ample time to adjust before adding a second. He scissored his fingers to open Steve up, gently crooking them forward every few moments to rub against Steve's prostate.

Steve pushed back into the fingers, greedy for more. Eddie always took way more time than Steve actually needed to open him up. Steve was too annoyed by the day in general to be patient this time.

"I'm ready," he whined. "Come on, just fuck me."

Eddie tsked. "Ask nicely, like a good elf."

"Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding me," Steve sniped.

Eddie pulled his fingers out. "No, I am not. Bad elves don't get fucked."

"Jesus fucking Christ. Who are you in this fucked up little scenario in your head? Santa?"

"Yes, absolutely. Big Daddy Santa."

"Ew, never say that again."

"Big Daddy Santa."

Steve made to stand up, but Eddie pressed him back down with a hand on the small of his back. "Oh my god, fine," Eddie huffed. "I'll fuck you, you naughty little elf."

Steve relaxed as he felt Eddie position his cock at his entrance. Eddie pressed in, Steve reveling in the stretch and burn. He sighed and leaned further into the couch as Eddie bottomed out, hands coming up to grip Steve's hips.

Eddie fucked him slowly at first, gradually picking up the pace as Steve encouraged him with breathy moans. Just as he was starting to get into a perfect rhythm, cock brushing Steve's prostate with each stroke, the door to their apartment opened.

"Good evening, brochachos, I come bearing gifts!" a familiar voice called.

Steve and Eddie's heads both snapped up, swiveling over to where Argyle was waltzing into their apartment.

"Oh shit. I forgot," Eddie gasped, balls deep in Steve.

"What the fuck!" Steve yelped.

Argyle took in the situation, eyebrows raising. "Don't stop on my account, my good dudes. Looks like fun."

Steve stood up sharply, bonking the back of his head against the front of Eddie's. Eddie yelped in pain and pulled out of Steve, stumbling back, pants down around his ankles.

"Argyle, what are you doing here?" Steve cried, hastily pulling up his tights and pushing his tunic back down.

"The Eds man asked me to come over to trade weed. Indiana to California exchange agreement," Argyle explained.

"You knew he was coming over?" Steve turned to Eddie with murder in his eyes.

"I forgot!" Eddie spluttered, pulling his pants up. "You looked so good in your elf get-up, I couldn't resist you!"

"He's got a point there, Steve-o. You make a fine elf." Argyle nodded slowly, eyes roaming up and down Steve's body.

Steve blushed, shifting awkwardly on his feet. Eddie picked up on it immediately, giving Steve a sharp grin. His shark smile. The one that meant he was about to make Steve squirm and then blow his mind.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie said, tapping his pointer finger to his mouth as though he was just realizing something. "We never checked spitroasting off our bingo card for the year."

Steve's mouth dropped open. "The bingo card was a joke, Eddie. Do you seriously still have that?" They'd made a sex bingo card for the new year while they were drunk on New Year's Eve. Steve didn't even remember what was on it.

"Of course," Eddie replied. He walked over to the coffee table and pulled one of the drawers open, rifling through it's contents. "Here!" he cried, holding up a piece of paper. The bingo card. Which Eddie had apparently been referencing and checking off all year.

Every square was crossed off except one in the bottom left which read, "Get Steve spitroasted."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Steve muttered, grabbing the paper out of Eddie's hand.

Eddie smirked. "I'm just saying, we've got a golden opportunity here, Stevie. Argyle is clearly just as enamored of your elven form as I am. And you told me last week you thought he was cute. Why not?"

Steve smacked Eddie on the arm. "I told you that in confidence," he hissed.

Argyle had been watching the exchange silently, his head moving back and forth between the two of them. "Always happy to help a friend out," he interjected, with a lazy grin.

Eddie raised his eyebrows at Steve, an actual question in his eyes now. Steve crossed his arms over his chest and bit his lower lip. He had always wanted to get spitroasted. And Argyle was cute. And laid back enough that he wouldn't make things weird. Even if he did, he lived thousands of miles away and only visited Indiana a few times a year.

"Alright," Steve finally conceded. Eddie's face split into a wide grin and he fist-pumped the air.

"Rad," Argyle said, nodding his head. He walked further into the apartment, dropping a bag of weed on the table. "Where do you want me?"

Eddie turned to Steve. "It was your bingo item, you get to pick."

Steve cycled through several options in his mind before settling on one. "Me and Eddie like we were before, Argyle kneeling in front of me on the couch."

"Good choice," Eddie approved. He pulled Steve close against his body and whispered, "You sure you wanna do this?"

Eddie always made sure to give him an out before they tried something new. Steve nodded, planting a wet kiss on Eddie's cheek. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Alright, let's go!" Eddie yelled. He let go of his hold on his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His cock was still hard, or possibly just already hard again, jutting up from his pelvis.

Argyle disrobed almost as quickly, though he had the handicap of still needing to unzip his jeans. He wasn't fully hard, but was definitely getting there. Neither of them seemed embarrassed to whip their dicks out in front of each other.

Steve preened at the obvious enthusiasm they both had for the sexual encounter with him. He moved back to the arm of the couch, bending himself over it again.

Eddie positioned himself behind Steve, flipping up his tunic and rolling his tights down his legs again. He pressed two fingers back into Steve's hole, confirming he was still loose and lubed, then pressed his cock back in.

Steve sighed in relief at being filled again, holding himself upright on his hands. Argyle shuffled up onto the couch and came to his knees in front of Steve, cock now fully erect. It was a nice cock, uncut and shorter than Eddie's but a little girthier. Steve leaned forward to lick a bead of precum off the head.

The bell on Steve's hat jingled as Eddie fucked into him. He reached up to pull it off, but Argyle grabbed his wrist. "Nah, man. The hat stays on," Argyle insisted.

Steve huffed. "Really? You too? A bunch of fucking degenerates with elf fetishes," he grumbled. But he left on the hat.

Argyle was holding the base of his cock now, directing it toward Steve's face. Steve moved toward it, sucking the head into his mouth. Argyle pulled his foreskin back so Steve could lick around the glans, tonguing the sensitive skin directly underneath.

Argyle moaned, his free hand coming to Steve's shoulder to balance. Eddie was taking his time behind Steve, fucking in and out slowly. Steve pushed his mouth further down Argyle's cock, pressing his tongue firmly up against the underside as he took more of him in.

"Shit, you're good at this," Argyle muttered, hips making tiny thrusts into Steve's mouth.

"He's the best at it," Eddie agreed.

Steve moaned at the praise, pressing his ass back into one of Eddie's thrusts as he got Argyle fully into his mouth. Steve swallowed around Argyle's cock. It was short enough that it barely hit the back of his throat, and his gag reflex was able to handle it.

Eddie started to pick up his pace as Steve bobbed vigorously up and down on Argyle's cock, taking him all the way into his throat every few bobs. Argyle was muttering something in Spanish, which Steve hoped was a good sign.

Eddie angled his hips so his next thrust hit Steve's prostate. Steve moaned around Argyle's cock as Eddie started to pound mercilessly against his prostate, the noise of his hips slapping against Steve's ass filling the room.

"You gonna make us both come, pretty boy?" Eddie cooed. Steve tried to nod, mouth full of Argyle's cock. He felt Eddie's fingers grab a handful of his hair that was sticking out beneath the elf hat.

Eddie pulled, arching Steve's back with the tug. Argyle shifted his hips up to follow Steve's mouth, starting to thrust into it in earnest now that Steve's head was immobilized by Eddie's hand in his hair.

"What a good little slut," Eddie praised, tugging harder on his hair. Steve's eyes watered and his cock got even harder from the pain and the praise. "You come first, baby, then we'll mark you up real nice."

Steve keened as Eddie reached around for his aching cock, jerking it off hard and fast. Steve came in seconds, spurting onto the ground and probably the side of the couch.

He felt Eddie and Argyle pull out at almost exactly the same time. He whined at the loss, but then Argyle was coming all over his face, cum spurting up into his hair and onto the hat. Thankfully none of it got in his eyes.

Seconds later, he felt Eddie's cum spurting over his ass and the backs of his thighs. He looked over his shoulder to see streaks of cum coating his elf tunic.

"Seriously?" he groused. "I was supposed to bring the costume back tomorrow!"

Eddie shrugged, looking not even a little chagrined. "Guess it's ours now. Thanks for the assist, Argyle."

"Anytime, my good man."

Steve stood up from the couch with a groan, ignoring them both to pull off the ruined tunic and hat. "In my hair, too?" he complained as he threw the hat to the side.

"Well we needed to make sure the hat was included in the field of spray!" Eddie argued. He knew Steve hated cum in his hair.

"Were you just non-verbally communicating about how to ruin my elf uniform the whole time you guys were fucking me?" Steve demanded, hands on his hips.

"Well, not the whole time," Eddie said. "Maybe next time, I can dress up as Santa and Argyle can be Mrs. Clause," Eddie ventured. Argyle looked way too excited about the possibility as he tucked himself back in his pants.

"Oh my god." Steve turned away from them both, walking toward the bathroom. "You're both unbelievable."

"That wasn't a no," he heard Eddie stage whisper to Argyle as he shut the bathroom door.