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spectrum-spectre · 6 hours

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I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 3

a nice long update for ya ♡ part 1 part 2

cw: internalized homophobia and projecting internalized homophobia (from an oc)

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve's first steps into his living room are not met with silence and sunshine; in fact, he is met with two surprises.

The first being Eddie Munson still in his apartment.

Steve rubs the tired out of his eyes, squishing his palm into his lids in hopes of shaking out a morning delusion. He is proven unsuccessful..

His second surprise is that Eddie is awake, staring at Steve in high alert, blankets folded neatly (he must have scrounged around for them in the night, not that Steve minds), sitting patiently as if he has been waiting for hours for Steve's arrival.

If the second surprise hadn't happened, Steve might have excused the first. See, Eddie, in all the years he had known him, had been anything but an early riser, usually choosing to sleep the day away. So if he had been asleep still, Steve might have let him being in his apartment slide.

Steve ponders how he doesn't really know Eddie anymore, so he shouldn't actually be surprised.

Eddie clears his throat, "So, how about that talk?"

Steve has to resist shutting his eyes to relish in the sound of Eddie's deep timbre. His voice has grown scratchy over the years—from singing or cigarettes, Steve can't be sure. It feels like coming home, either way, to have his voice brush over him.

Instead, Steve clears his throat back. "Don't have time; maybe try again in another five years." He moves to the kitchen to start making their morning drinks—hot coffee with cream for Robin and an iced dirty chai for Steve.

When Dustin had been working at a cafe back when he was in college, he made Steve try all of their new drinks. Surprisingly his favorite became a dirty chai—something which Robin finds hilarious.

Steve grabs the chipped green mug from the cabinet and begins pouring Robin's coffee. It had already been hot and ready in the pot, which probably meant Eddie had prepped it for him. Steve doesn't comment.

Eddie huffs through his nose, "C'mon Stevi—Steve. It's ten in the morning on a Saturday. You can't tell me you're busy right now."

Steve has to resist slamming Robin's mug down on the counter, already having being put together after the 1994 incident, he doesn't want to face her wrath.

Gently placing it on the counter, Steve turns. "Actually, I have somewhere to be at twelve, not that you need to know that. And don't act like you know what's going on in my life, Munson."

Eddie smiles, a little laugh escapes him. God, it is like a fucking drug after years of being sober that laugh. Steve wants to beg him for another hit, even though he knows it's bad for him.

With the smile never leaving his face, Eddie raises his hands. "Okay, okay. You're right."

"Why are you smiling? This isn't funny." Steve huffs.

Eddie's face softens, "Sorry, just even though you're mad at me. You're talking to me, and shit, sweetheart. I would take that over silence any day. It's nice to hear your voice."

Steve has to force himself to keep his shoulders tense, wanting to sag into Eddie. He's still mad at him, furious even. But some part of him agrees deep down, this is nice.

He can never let Eddie know that.

"Fuck off, Munson. I have shit to do. I'm sure you're too busy anyway."

Eddie shakes his head, hair falling in front of his face. "No, trust me I have nothing else going on. The band is on hiatus. And even if we weren't, trust me when I say this is exactly where I am supposed to be right now."

Steve can't help the snort that comes out of him, "Funny you're asking me to trust you, asshole. That went out the door with your bags five years ago."

Eddie flinches back, "Okay, I deserve that one."

Steve doesn't mention to Eddie how he knows his band has been on hiatus for over a year now. How he's kept up on the band, even after Eddie left. How he is curious why they went on hiatus at all, they have two successful albums, and supposedly were working on their third, when suddenly they all decided it was time for a break.

Peak of their career, and they chose silence. Normally, a horrible career move, but it seems it makes the rock community want them even more.

Steve can understand that partially. When it comes to Eddie, you can't help but want more, even when he disappears without a trace.

"I got to go get ready. Seriously, Munson. I know you think I don't mean it when I say leave. I think you're stuck on the Steve from five years ago, and how the Steve from then wouldn't really mean it. But this is the Steve now. And Steve from now means it when he says, get the fuck out. Go find someone else who could actually use your presence, like Dustin. God knows the kid deserves a phone call."

Eddie opens his mouth to protest, but doesn't get to chance to say his peace, Steve's already on his way back to his bedroom with their drinks in hand.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

Steve is running late.

It's not his fault, he has a fucking ghost haunting his living room, and it takes him ten times longer to work around it. Robin tells him to cancel his lunch, but Steve doesn't, even though she's right.

Robin's always right.

Steve can't help but feel a little smug when thinking back to leaving his apartment, though. He looks good, wearing his nicest Levi's and soft white button-up. Steve had made sure to keep the top few buttons undone, showing off his gold necklaces that landed perfectly on his exposed chest hair.

For Drew, of course, not for Eddie.

Still, Steve knows he looks good. So when he leaves his apartment and Eddie doesn't even bother to try to talk to him again because he is just too busy staring at Steve.

Steve makes it to the restaurant only five minutes late. It would have been on time if it had been in his athletic prime.

Resturant, Steve realizes, is a bit of a stretch. It appears to be a cafe--but not one of those cozy ones with crazy colors and a fun name. No, this cafe is incredibly fancy. Everything is so sleek and high up, the name in an Italian word he'll have to asked Robin to translate later.

Steve looks around the cafe in a huff, realizing Drew is nowhere to be found. He is momentarily flooded with relief, knowing he has beaten Drew to the cafe.

Steve finds a table in a corner and waits. His brief relief is quickly swept away into annoyance as he sits there for minutes with no signs of Drew.

It takes another thirty minutes, before Drew is finally at the cafe.

"Sorry, I'm late, baby." He says breath even. Steve knows he was in no rush to be here on time. He doesn't move to kiss Steve, not on the cheek and certainly not on the mouth. Drew isn't one for PDA, or so he says. Instead, he smooths down his dark blue Armani suit and sits across from Steve.

"You know, you could give me a kiss. I haven't seen you in a week." Steve decides to move past his being late; there is no point in arguing. If it had been him, Steve is sure he would never hear the end of it.

"Sweetheart..." Drew whispers and brushes his hand against Steve's knee. Steve's lip twitches; he doesn't like it when Drew calls him that. "You know it isn't safe to do that."

Steve wants to throw Drew's hand off of him, but he doesn't. It's always like this between them, Steve wants more, and Drew pulls back. It's beginning to feel tiresome, this game between them. They have been dating for a year and have made no progress in public. Steve's lucky Robin gets to know, seeing as basically no one else in either of their lives knows about each other. For Steve, everyone knows of Drew but not his name. For Drew, Steve is almost sure no one even knows he's gay.

Steve wants to hit himself for the thought. It's unfair of him to put these expectations on Drew, everyone comes out at their own pace. He would be a hypocrite if he pushed him; it had taken him nineteen years to figure out he was bisexual. Took Eddie leaving for him to come out to anyone other than Robin.

It feels different somehow with Drew, though. Like this isn't him scared to come out, but more like Drew doesn't actually see a future with Steve. It had taken them six months to even label themselves as boyfriends, moving from late-night booty calls to watching a movie together in Steve's living room in the middle of a Tuesday.

Steve rubs his temples instead of smacking Drew's hand away. Steve feels tired of this cycle. He knows this is the best he's going to get when it comes to dating. With women, they often want him to admit that he was experimenting, wanting to shun parts of himself away. That or they are convinced he's gay. Well, he is, but it's more than that, and they don't seem to get it.

With men, it's the opposite problem. Either they need him to admit being bisexual is just something he used to make himself feel better, or they are only looking for a quick hookup.

Hookups are nice, but approaching thirty, Steve wants something real and is perhaps sick of finding out the man he brings home from the bar is married.

He knows this is the best he's going to get.

"Maybe if we met a cafe in my neighborhood, we could be a bit more affectionate. The one down the block has a rainbow flag and everything."

Drew scrunches his nose, "Why do that when we can get nice coffee like this?"

Steve doesn't point out that neither Drew nor himself has ordered coffee. Steve can't afford the coffee here, and Drew was late. "I think that's your way of saying where I live isn't nice."

Drew grabs his hand under the table, "No, babe, I don't want to fight today. I've missed you."

Steve feels bad; he has missed Drew. Despite their ups and downs (and Robin's grumbles), Steve does care for him. "You're right, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I did want to have lunch for a reason." Drew smiles brightly. Steve can't help but stare for a minute. It's no surprise what hooked Steve the first moment they met at the club. He is a classic kind of handsome. Wavy brown hair cut to look proper, a shiny white smile, piercing blue eyes. Nothing about him is soft, he is full of sharpness that takes you from across the room.

He's the kind of guy Steve's parents would have loved if they were okay with Drew being a guy—if Steve was even talking to them at all.

"Oh yes, you've got me on the edge of my seat." Steve jokes.

Drew gives him a charming smile, "There's my funny guy."

Steve rolls his eyes.

"So I have a big question for you..."

Steve freezes up; oh no. Here it comes. The talk, the let's move into together speech. One he'll have to turn down. No one ever gets it. How he can't live without Robin. Literally and physically.

"....so Greg says there's an opening and I think you'd be a great fit."

Steve shakes himself out of his thoughts, "What?"

Drew levels him with a look. "A job? For you?"

Oh. "I already have a job."

It's Drew's turn to roll his eyes, "C'mon, Steve. A high school guidance counselor? You could do so much more."

"I like my job, Drew. We've been through this. Besides, you barely want to be seen together, and now you want to work together? I have no interest in working at a law firm."

Drew pinches his nose, "Just...just think about it, okay? I want to see more of you in any way I can."

Steve doesn't want to fight. The fight left him a long time ago. "Okay."

He doesn't mean it.

🐝･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

aaah im loving where this is going, also I swear it gets better soon and this has a happy ending!! also thanks for the love and support. This will probably be the last part where I will take tag requests for the series so please ask now, cause its getting too long. But parts will always be updated on the previous posts and my page!!

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso @yesdangerpls

@lingermirth

@adealwithher @antonymeanonyme @stevah-hawcett @samsoble @mugloversonly

@stripey82 @anaibis @mycatsstolemybiscuit @flustratedcas @alfhitchblonde

@s0ft-strawberries @slavicviking

@l1lpip @emmabubbles @arepaconchocolate

@thesuninyaface @hallo-spaceb0y @dykelips @bookbinderbitch @valinwonderland

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spectrum-spectre · 6 hours

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Buzzcut

For @klausinamarink ‘s birthday. I’m sorry this is late, my friend 💗

Eddie’s gonna kill him. Gonna murder his uncle and bury him in the backyard so he can never embarrass Eddie ever, ever again.

“This one,” Wayne the Betrayer continues, leafing over to the next page, “was Eddie’s eighth grade talent show.”

Steve makes a particularly strangled noise that lands somewhere between a coo and a laugh, pointing at the photo that Eddie is positive he’d set fire to last year.

Wayne must’ve made copies.

“Look at your hair!” Steve giggles, downright bouncing in his seat as he points to Eddie’s hideous buzzcut, “you were so cute!”

Eddie makes another grab for the photo album but his stupid jock boyfriend with his stupid, hot jock reflexes dances away, getting up from the couch to turn to the next page, which only makes him giggle louder.

“Look at you!” Steve downright coos this time, holding the photo album so close to his face it nearly rubs at his nose.

“I will never forgive you for this.” Eddie grumbles, Steve practically bouncing on his toes as he takes in Eddie’s woeful eighth-grade haircut, and Wayne has the audacity to scoff.

“Your boy asked. I ain’t about to refuse him.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Eddie whines, and Wayne rolls his eyes.

“Not when you’re bein’ an idjit.”

Steve dances back over, keeping the album a safe distance away as he shows Eddie another photo, this time with him at a table covered in dice and miniatures, his hair still cropped close to his head. “I’m framing these.” Steve announces, tapping at the photograph, “look at you!”

And Steve’s smiling so big and wide, so obviously enamored, and Eddie, despite himself, feels his irritation shrink.

“We’re burning it.” Eddie counters, but it’s without heat, and Steve sits down next to him, no longer afraid for the albums safety.

“I love them.” Steve maintains, and Eddie softens more at the heartfelt way his boyfriend gazes on his awkward, gangly phase, on Eddie’s shaved head and how it accentuates his too-big ears and buggy eyes, Steve cradling the pages like those years are something precious.

“You’re biased.” Eddie grumbles, but he scoots a little closer to Steve. Presses their shoulders together. Their thighs.

“‘Ve got baby photos.” Wayne suddenly announces, and Eddie nearly topples off the couch, “you know he didn’t get hair until he was three?”

My permanent tag list (sorry yall are getting tagged twice in one day I am overdue on some gifts!!!) 💗: @hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @littlewildflowerkitten @chaotic-waffle

@westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson @finntheehumaneater @theheadlessphilosopher @spectrum-spectre

@itsall-taken @marvel-ous-m @bookworm0690 @acasualcrossfade

#do not Apologize for this Delightful gift

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spectrum-spectre · 6 hours

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Hot for Teacher(s) 9

Part 8 / AO3 Link

Eddie felt like he blacked out. One moment he was on stage, playing his heart out, the next, Steve was leading him by the hand back to his car. Eddie had come to the venue with one of his bandmates, instruments in the back. When they got to Steve’s car, the keys were put in his hand.

“Your place”, Steve said, going around to the passenger side.

Eddie nodded hurriedly and in a rush of movements, they were off. He worried for a split second about the state of his apartment but those thoughts were pushed out when he felt Steve’s hand on his thigh. In the close space of the car, Eddie could smell him so deeply. He took a deep breath.

“You looked great up there”, Steve said. “Have you been playing long?”

“Since I was a kid”, Eddie answered, wishing with all his might that they could get a red light just so he could look at Steve at least once. It had been only a few minutes but even that was too long. “My mom put a guitar in my hand and it was like…nothing was ever the same.”

“A natural.” Steve started to stroke his thigh.

They came to an apartment complex and Eddie led the way up to the third floor. They got to his place and he paused as he unlocked the door. He turned to Steve with a sheepish expression.

“Gimme just one minute.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Eddie, I live with a child. A little untidiness isn’t going to turn me off.”

“I’d rather not welcome comparisons to a kid”, Eddie said.

“Fair enough. Go on, go and spruce it up before I see.”

Eddie thanked him and then went inside. Steve could hear movement from behind the door and after about a minute, Eddie opened it again. Steve took everything in and looked around. It had the makings of the usual bachelor pad, everything here was clearly Eddie’s. All meant for a single alpha. He smiled when he saw the teacher manuals, bookmarks sticking out from the lesson he’d left off at.

Part of him wanted to explore some more, see all the little pieces of Eddie that could be found. But then there was a warmth against his back and a nose at his neck. Eddie’s arms snaked around his waist.

“I’d love to give you the grand tour. Starting with the bedroom~”

“I bet you say that to all the groupies.”

“You’re the only one hot enough to make it this far”, Eddie said, turning Steve in his arms. “And you didn’t even have to throw me your panties.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you don’t even want them tossed to you”, Steve teased. “And after all the trouble I went through…”

“‘Trouble’?”, Eddie perked at that.

“Lead the way.”

Eddie released Steve, holding his hand only to take him to his bedroom. Steve closed the door behind them and then pushed Eddie onto the bed. Eddie leaned back on his elbows to watch Steve make a show of removing his jacket and shirt. Then he unbuttoned his pants and Eddie saw a sneak peek of what was to come. Steve licked his lips as he watched the alpha’s eyes darken and the scent of arousal began to fill the room.

Steve took off everything else, leaving only the black thong. The darkness of the fabric meant that Eddie couldn’t see the wet patch between his legs. But the way his nostrils flared, he could probably smell it. Steve walked closer and Eddie sat up, his hands moving reverently like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch.

Taking the initiative, Steve brought Eddie’s hands to his hips. Eddie licked his lips as his eyes traveled up and down the other man’s body, lingering on what must be a sopping wet cunt. He swallowed thickly.

“When was the last time someone ate you out baby?”

“Well-”, Steve was saved from answering by Eddie diving face first, mouthing at his crotch like a man starved. His knees buckled and one hand went to Eddie’s shoulder while the other went to the back of his head, cradling it there.

Eddie had been able to smell his wetness. Now he could actually feel and taste it. And it was so. Fucking. Good. He lifted one of Steve’s legs over his shoulders to spread him even more, still licking the fabric and sucking him through it. Eddie felt the leg by his ear tremble and he looked up. The purr that left his body, seeing Steve enraptured because of him, it must’ve traveled from his throat to his lips because Steve let out a purr of his own.

Steve felt Eddie pulled off and nearly let out a whine when he found himself on the bed. His legs must’ve been weaker than he’d thought if he was able to be moved like that. Eddie kissed him sweetly and then kissed down his neck, to his chest.

“How the hell do you still have so many clothes?”, Steve breathed out.

“Natural talent”, Eddie winked. But he was beginning to overheat, so he paused to started undressing himself. He moved just a tad slower when he realized Steve’s hand was between his legs, stroking himself.

“Careful Mr. Harrington. I might need to start charging you for the show.”

Steve snickered. “Please do not call me ‘Mr. Harrington’. Makes me think of my students.”

“Alright”, Eddie stripped off the last bit of clothing. “How’s about baby?” He kissed Steve’s ankle. “Or sweetheart?” He kissed his calf. “Angel face?” He gave one of Steve’s thighs a soft bite.

“Yes.”

Eddie peeled off the thong, duty completed and watched a string of slick try to stay attached. It was soaked from them both and Eddie was fighting the urge to stuff his face in it and he wondered how attached Steve was to this particular piece of underwear.

“I can tell you wanna lick it”, Steve said. “But wouldn’t you rather have the real thing?” He used his fingers to spread himself and a thick drop of pre cum dripped from Eddie’s cock.

Permission given, Eddie dove in, his hips rutting against the bed as he ate Steve out. It was so soft and warm, he felt like he could get lost in it. All Steve saw was a mop of dark curls between his legs but he could feel everything Eddie was doing and it made him see stars. He felt something else prod him and when he looked down, Eddie was gazing up at him, asking with his eyes while his lips were wrapped around his clit.

Steve nodded and then he felt a finger push inside. Eddie treated him gentle, which Steve appreciated. He’d done his best to prep for the night, knowing what he wanted. But the fact that Eddie was taking his time, was enjoying the scenic route. Whenever his mouth left his pussy it was to lick his thighs, to kiss his hips, even to nuzzle his bush like every part of him was worth savoring.

During all this, he spread Steve open, bringing him to the brink before pulling back. Steve wanted to be frustrated but he liked going the long way. No rush, no fuss. He was more than happy to cum on Eddie’s cock. If it was like this now…he could only imagine during a heat or a rut.

Steve was lost in the thought as Eddie pulled his fingers out and reached for a condom. Steve sat up a little and held a hand out.

“Let me.”

When Eddie handed it to him, Steve took his time too. He got up on his knees and scented Eddie’s neck. That aroma was no longer just safety when he was on the brink of rejection sickness. It was a deep fondness, a strong attraction, and the utmost trust. Steve licked his throat and collarbone while looking down and placing the condom onto him. Even just the feather light touches were almost too much for him and he sucked in a breath.

“You don’t know what you do to me, sweetness”, he said as he laid kisses on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve used his fingertip to play with Eddie’s tip. “I think I have an idea.”

Eddie pushed him back down and lined himself up. He waited for Steve’s nod and then began to push inside. Steve waited until he was fully inside and then wrapped both his arms and legs around him.

“Feels so good, you’re so deep, fuck.”

Eddie growled in his ear as he started to move. Steve smelled so delicious. Eddie’s nose was pressed into his neck, fighting the urge to bite, to claim him, to make Steve his own. Steve wasn’t helping things by actually baring it to him, back arching as they pushed and pulled into each other. Everything about Steve was telling him to do it, to seal the deal.

Everything but Steve’s own words.

So Eddie stayed his teeth. But he was going to make sure that before the night was through that Steve would be carrying his scent home with him.

Steve was no nun, there had been partners after Billy, here and there, and of course, he had his own heats to deal with. But nothing could have prepared him for the way his orgasm crashed over him when Eddie thrusted just right. He scratched down his back (he’d apologize later) as his cunt squeezed down, trying to take his knot and milk it for everything.

He was still riding the wave when he felt that knot finally come inside and Eddie bit down on his shoulder as he came. For a few moments, all they did was breathe together. Eddie brushed the sweaty hairs away from Steve’s forehead and kissed it. Words lingered on his lips. Words that felt too heavy to say. So for now, he would let his body do the talking.

There was a split second where Eddie thought of everything the words might entail - changing his address, being a sudden parent to a six year old and all that it required, Steve learning about him and vice versa. It all sounded too good to be true. Definitely not the kind of pillow talk after having sex for the first time. So all he said was:

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pop it in like that”, he said, moving them to their sides.

“It’s fine. Not like I’m going anywhere soon. Hope you weren’t expecting to kick me outta bed.”

“Honey, it’s all yours. I’ll give you the deed and everything.”

“Actually, did you know that until the 50’s there was something called ‘common scent law’ that-no wait, nevermind”, Steve covered his face with his hand.

Eddie knew that look. The ‘I had to learn something to teach my students and now I have an abundance of knowledge on this obscure subject’. He pushed a lock of Steve’s hair behind his ear and then kissed the hand that was hiding his face.

“We’re gonna be here a while, sweetness. Go ahead and tell me about now defunct laws.”

The way Steve melted, Eddie wished he could bottle it up and keep it forever.

Part 10 coming soon

Tags

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @lololol-1234 @gregre369 @attic-cat-blog

@hippieg1rl420 @spectrum-spectre

#GOOD 👏 SHIT 👏#YOU 👏 NEVER 👏 MISS 👏👏👏

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spectrum-spectre · 10 hours

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Eddie is constantly bouncing between jobs and rage quitting every 6 months on average. Steve, however, somehow gets lucky with a job in computer sales. With the industry in a booming rise, he makes a pretty decent income to support them both whenever Eddie's out of a job. Best part is, even though his charming voice and smile certainly help make sales, he doesn't feel like he's one of those scammers pushing all kinds of crap people don't need. Computers are objectively useful.

This goes on until their mid 30s and Steve saves up enough to open his own small tech store. He very hesitantly starts involving his recently unemployed (again) boyfriend in some mundane tasks (upon Eddie's own initiative saying he wants to help) and quickly learns that all of Eddie's previous bosses were morons. Eddie's meticulous and a quick learner with every single task. All he needs is not to have a boss who's a total jackass to him, and a bit of freedom to just... be himself.

Eddie does everything with mild enthusiasm; mild, because it's still work, ugh; enthusiasm, because it's his BOYFRIEND finally being free to do his own thing instead of working for The Man, woohoo, go Stevie! Eddie doesn't need to wear a stupid uniform or put his hair up, can play music in his headphones doing inventory, answers the phones in his special flirty manner, and Steve doesn't have a problem with any of that. He actually listens to Eddie's bitching and recognizes the helpful suggestions to improve things in the middle of all that, instead of telling him to shut up and do his damn job.

Working together can often be the perfect storm to ruin a relationship, but despite becoming Eddie's de-facto boss, Steve never treats him differently. It's never orders, always "Eddie can you [do this and that]?". It's soft smiles and a quiet "thanks, babe", and if no one's around, a kiss on Eddie's cheek when he gets something done. It's a calm explanation instead of yelling if he messes up.

Steve hands Eddie a handful of cash at the end of each week, despite Eddie's comments that it's a bit ridiculous to pay him at all, since he'd been practically living out of Steve's pocket for months at a time, and Steve has been single-handedly paying the rent for their joint apartment. Steve insists though, and Eddie has to admit that it's nice to always have cash in his pocket now.

Eddie learns more and more of everything that's needed to run the store, to the point that he spends a week handling everything alone when Steve's sick with the flu, but it's still a shock when several months later Steve shows him the paperwork in which he writes Eddie in as full partner. Eddie tries to protest, but Steve won't have it; he says he never could have survived all these months of start-up chaos without Eddie, and he fully deserves this. He's been giving Eddie half the store profits for months anyway, time to just make it official.

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spectrum-spectre · 10 hours

Note

for this weekends theme of time loops and time travel i'd like to recommend A Tarnished Copper Boy by PaperBackRibs on AO3!

A Tarnished Copper Boy by PaperBackRibs

@paperbackribs

Rating: Explicit

82,148 words, 20/38 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Slow Burn, Time Travel, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, POV Eddie Munson, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Light BDSM, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, Sub Eddie Munson, Steve is a top but also vers, pleasure is pleasure for steve, Eddie Munson is a virgin but he's a quick learner bless him, pain and breathing kink - but just a pinch for spice no big scenes, Past Child Abuse, referenced but no explicit descriptions of it, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug

Summary:

“Wait,” Steve grabs Eddie's hand before he flies away. “Stay?” His eyes are worn and a hint of fear shimmers underneath. “This is really scary,” he admits. “I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know when I’ll suddenly disappear. Maybe I’ll just disappear for good? It’d be nice if there was someone familiar around. Plus,” Steve adds with a weary grin, “You were probably busy before I intruded.” He peers around Eddie to nod at the desk that he'd been standing next to. Eddie hears an echo of disappear for good and thinks that maybe he wants to watch over Steve while he sleeps too, make sure that he doesn’t pop out of existence under Eddie’s nose. In 1984, Eddie finds himself in front of a rugged version of the preppy jock he’s only peripherally aware of at school. Compelled by Steve's tale of time travel, Eddie invites him to hide in his trailer until he can return to his proper place and time in 1986. (updates weekly)

@finntheehumaneater also recommends this fic, adding: "It’s ongoing right now and it’s AMAZING, I think about it all the time and I love the author so so so much she’s like one of my best friends <333"

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Time Loops & Time Travel.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

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spectrum-spectre · 11 hours

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put those big brown eyes away dude now is NOT the time

#*insert eddie speech bubble*

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spectrum-spectre · 11 hours

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WIP (Eventual Minors DNI)

Here's a little snippet from my Dom Eddie/Sub Steve fic from this post! It's coming along rather slowly and I'm reworking the introduction bit, but I'm enjoying where it's at right now.

CW: Panic Attack

🫂—————🫂 He had an extremely rough night. Between night terrors, waking up with a raw throat, and pacing the length of his bedroom—Steve was already over what the day would bring. Then, the day was even worse. Every little sound made his skin crawl. His brain a whir of noise and stress and panic. His shoulders high by his ears and his feet weighed like solid cement blocks. And by the time he was supposed to see Eddie, he was exhausted.

The ride to the Munson’s was no small feat. His stomach was knotting. He wanted to lay his forehead against his steering wheel. A sore ache held tight to his chest and arms. If anything, all he wanted was to be out of his own body and mind. Any sort of reprieve would be welcomed, in any way he could get it. Maybe it’s time to take Eddie up on that offer, he thought, pulling up next to Eddie’s parked van.

Forest Hills wasn’t exactly a place of dreams and rainbows. Steve stood outside of his driver’s side door. Eyes roaming over the trailers and debris left by the “earthquake”. A subtle tingle spiked through his neck like grits. Sharp and small and plenty. He couldn’t stomach the way he could reimagine the brown-red stain of blood where Eddie’s body had been—granted, in the Upside Down.

There was bile stagnant in the back of his throat. Tongue salivating with need. His hands shook with immense force. And his chest ached something raw and awful, as if a clawed hand was reaching inside of him, scooping out his precious insides. Hollowed.

He didn’t knock before he entered Eddie’s. Slid right through the door. Chucked his sneakers by the pile of other shoes. And collapsed sideways onto the sofa, face squished against the left armrest. Arms crossed and tight against his chest. He closed his eyes and attempted to push away the slick, squelching memories of his real life and the night terrors of last night. There was more than unease and trepidation flowing through him. And he dared not move. It was something new inside of him, building and building and pressing against his skin as if it wanted to break free. He was slimy with it. Cold and shivering, too.

Eddie saunters into the living room mere minutes later. He’s excited to see Steve, loud and talkative. But stops in his tracks the moment he spots his boyfriend on the couch. He comes closer, settles softly on his knees to be in front of the sofa, and places a tentative hand on the cushion.

There’s a twisted arch to Steve’s spine, the way he’s curled and laid horizontally. And a slight tremor that’s visible to the naked eye, which Eddie feels he’s peering in on something he shouldn’t be privy to. Like he’s some creep hiding behind a bush, nose forward and eyes darting between branches. He’s never really seen Steve like this. All vulnerable and cowed and quite literally shivering out of his skin. It’s as if the only thing keeping him safely tucked on the cushions was the harsh hold on his own arms. Eddie’s stomach churns like the way spoiled milk pours from the mouth of a jug.

He makes his voice careful and small, “Steve?” He calls out. “You doing okay, baby? Is there a way I can help?”

Steve sniffs noisily from where his face is hidden in the armrest. “Need,” he breathes out, the sound cowering and shaking, “need you to take control right now.”

Gentle surprise dawns on Eddie’s face. His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting to just under his bangs, mouth twisting downwards. He hums. “Control?” He checks, “Do you need me to guide you out of your head?”

A soft nod. “Yeah,” Steve croaks. “I don’t know how—But I can’t—Something’s wrong.”

“Okay,” Eddie whispers, “okay, sweetheart.” Steve lets out a shuddering breath at the pet name. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs again, calculating the way Steve preens slightly. “Let’s take a couple deep breaths before we do anything else, okay? Think you can…can you be good for me and do that?”

He doesn’t have a whole lot of experience in this realm, being the more domineering person. But, he’s got some. And he knows gentle words. Knows praise and pet names. With the way Steve reacts to his voice right now, he’s sure that he’s doing something right.

Steve sucks in sharp through his nose, but releases slow through his mouth. Not a very long breath, but a gust, nonetheless.

“Good,” Eddie murmurs, “that was great, baby.” He shuffles his hand, fingers inching closer to Steve’s radiating body heat. “Do another one for me,” he lightly commands. “I know you can do it.”

Another sharp inhale with a slow exhale. A manual breath, which Eddie’s hoping will shift automatically. But he’s gleaming proudly at the way Steve’s arms carefully begin to extract from his chest. His next deep breath is gradual and mindful.

“I’m so proud of you,” Eddie coos sweetly, “you’re doing so well.” He smiles softly at Steve’s relaxing face, his closed eyes softening and his mouth untwisting. Another small shuffle with his hand. “Is it okay if I run my fingers through your hair? Might make you feel a little better.”

🫂—————🫂

#yoooooooooo

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spectrum-spectre · 12 hours

Text

Fairytale

A (late) birthday drabble for @penny00dreadful, because I can’t write fast to save my life ✨

“And then,” Eddie continues, and his voice is so low Steve can really only feel the rumble of it, feel the vibrations in his chest more than the words themselves, “the knight realized something very important: the dragon had not been holding the princess hostage. The dragon was there to slay all those who were unworthy of her.”

Eddie’s fingers dig into his neck, Steve’s head on his chest, and knead into the hot, curling pain that radiates up Steve’s spine and across his scalp. Eddie’s voice is calm. Low and soothing, like it always is on nights like this.

“And so the knight laid down his blade. For how could he slay which protects the one which he hopes to love? And when he rested it on the ground, and stepped away, the knight saw the fire in the dragon’s throat dim.”

A set of headlights flash through their closed blinds and Steve flinches, the pain that had begun to drain flaring at the harshness, only to have Eddie’s free arm come to cover his face, his elbow curling over Steve’s eyes, blocking the violent light.

Eddie goes on, his voice unwavering, the fairytale falling from his lips as soothing to Steve’s throbbing migraine as anything a doctor has ever prescribed him, and he’s able to relax once again.

“No words were exchanged between the two. The knight did not know if the beast could speak, but the common tongue was not needed between him and the fire-breather, for the moment their weapons were dropped, the knight believed they finally understood one another.” Eddie’s hand moves from his neck to behind Steve’s ear, his thumb rubbing gentle circles where he knows the pain rests, and Steve melts further into Eddie’s embrace.

“And so the knight bowed to the creature which had protected the princess from all who had been unworthy. And although he was beaten and bruised, and although his joints protested, and his ribs smarted where the dragon had struck him previously, he bowed deep, knowing that the creature could still see him as one unfit for the lady that lived in the high tower above, and end his life with a mere swipe of that taloned foot.” Eddie pauses, shifting, for a moment, to reach for the glass of water from their bedside table. The pain in Steve’s head is waning, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

It’s a new story on each night like this. Almost always does it involve dragons or knights or princesses or bards, the battle of good versus evil, of true love or destiny. Each and every time lights and sound and movement become too much, Eddie talks until Steve sleeps.

“But the dragon did not end the young knights life. The dragon, for the first time, saw someone who would respect the princess. Would respect her and love her the way she deserves.

“And thus the dragon carried the knight up to the highest part of the turret by the only way how: with five beats of her great and powerful wings, perching herself at the very top. Only then did the knight see the staircase built from the roof and down, ensuring only those who earned the dragons favor could hope to see the princess.”

Steve’s breathing deepens, and Eddie kisses the top of his head.

He continues, lips against Steve’s hair, ruffling the strands, “the dragon extended one of her scaly blue legs, assisting the wounded knight to his staircase.”

It grows harder for Steve to hear what Eddie’s saying. He feels the tendrils of sleep, finally, beginning to wrap around him, his boyfriend’s story tucking him in.

Steve knows without hearing it how the story will end. That the knight will earn the princess’s favor. That the two of them will fall in love. That they will rule the land fairly and justly under the protection of her loyal dragon. That their kingdom will prosper for all of their days, because Eddie is a sucker for a happy ending.

Steve knows, but doesn’t hear, because he falls asleep, at last, to the comfort of knowing it will.

Permanent tag list 💗: @hotluncheddie @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @littlewildflowerkitten @chaotic-waffle

@westifer-dead @perseus-notjackson @finntheehumaneater @theheadlessphilosopher @spectrum-spectre

@itsall-taken @marvel-ous-m @bookworm0690 @acasualcrossfade

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spectrum-spectre · 13 hours

Text

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt: fool | words: 454 | rated: T

"Am I a dumb hoe?" Steve asks out loud, more to himself than anything.

Robin blinks at him and seriously considers his question. "You're never dumb, but you used to be a hoe."

Steve sighs and fights the urge to throw himself under the library counter. "Maybe I should go back to being a hoe."

Robin snorts. "We both know there's only one person you want to do that with."

Steve immediately thinks of Eddie. He's been nursing a crush on him since Eddie showed up at the library three months ago looking for this Horror book that is also one of Steve's favorites. Through becoming friends, Steve's feelings towards Eddie have shifted to something... more.

Not that Steve has acted on it.

"I'm just a fool, then," Steve announces out loud.

"Who called you a fool?"

Steve almost throws the book he's holding. "Eddie?"

"Here we go," Robin murmurs and, traitor that she is, leaves Steve alone with his crush.

"Who called you a fool?" Eddie asks again, scowling. "Do I need to beat someone up?"

"Like you could do that," Steve blurts out despite himself.

Eddie, for his turn, doesn't look angry. Instead, he nods. "You're right. I could spread some mean rumors about them, though."

"I called myself a fool," Steve explains. "Thank you, though."

"I will always defend your honor, Steve." Eddie rests his elbows on the counter and leans into Steve's space. "But why are you a fool?"

Right, Steve thinks. This is his chance.

By the way Robin gives him a thumbs up from behind Eddie right before she dips back to hide between the stacks, she agrees.

"Well," Steve starts. "There's this guy I like."

Eddie's face is a blank mask. Nothing gives him away. "Oh?"

"And I've been meaning to tell him."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "That you like him?"

"Yup. But I haven't exactly..."

"Gotten the guts to do it, right," Eddie adds. "I totally get that."

Steve swallows hard. "You do?"

"Yeah." Eddie leans even further into Steve's space. Steve's stomach flips when he says, "I've been sort of going through the same thing."

"Yeah?" Steve whispers, not moving away.

"He's this cute librarian I met some months ago, right here." Eddie taps the counter with a finger. "Maybe you know him?"

"I might," Steve replies, fighting back a smile. "And I might have on good authority that he likes you back."

"That's good," Eddie murmurs. "Is he gonna be upset if I kiss him at his work place or—"

Steve doesn't let Eddie finish. He grabs him by the front of his Metallica shirt and kisses him, firm and sweet, and feels Eddie smile against his lips. Somewhere between the stacks, Robin whistles.

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spectrum-spectre · 14 hours

Text

returning to the scene of the crime sex

Because Steve is right there to play along with Eddie's plans to prove the haters wrong no matter how many years later indulge Eddie in a 'for old times' sake' blowjob be Eddie's class reunion plus-one (but make it forever), right?

alternatively: the one time Eddie asked for help he didn't need, so that he could ask a question that he absolutely did

✨CW: explicit content / NSFW✨

I Could Be Your Nurse (or something)

Or: Five Times Eddie Has To Ask For Help, Plus One Time He Doesn’t Need It Anymore (but asks anyway) ✨ for @penny00dreadful 💜

<<< five: climb 👑

👑 🎶 six: déjà vu 💦 💍

Steve thinks it’s maybe unexpected, save that Eddie’s still the showman of the two of them. Steve had no reason to go back when his invitation came: Hawkins stopped meaning ‘home’ when the last of his family left—he thinks his parents still own the house there, but once Erica graduated, Wayne was the last hold out and only for practicalities; Steve and Eddie went back to see him until he retired on his own terms—they owe me a goddamn pension and I’m making sure I get every cent of it—and then he moved south, not back to his roots so much as southern Illinois, since Eddie and Steve‘s first port of call upon getting the fuck outta dodge was Chicago, and it was a drive, sure, but an easy enough one while keeping Wayne happy, and by then the pair had exhausted odd jobs in and around their hometown, they’d saved enough to have wiggle room, and Eddie’d put a demo together that he was proud enough of, and confident enough in, to let Steve help him plot out his plan of attack for every industry hookup the city could deliver.

And it takes time, but they’ve kinda had to learn patience for far more fraught reasons in their life; Eddie catches the attention of bands in need of a guitar—the Corroded Coffin boys love their music, but they follow other dreams when they graduate and Eddie doesn’t fault them for it—but they don’t need his lyrics, and that’s something he prides himself on, and he’d vowed to try and follow his dream the right way, and he’d give it two years, and then it wasn’t meant to be.

He gets signed for a solo album that makes enough waves to get him an award nomination; he doesn’t take it home because life’s not a movie, but it can be a fairytale, because Eddie tells Steve straight out, after he’s gone from fucking him hard in celebration to rocking into him slow and deep and murmuring his pride in Eddie, in all that Eddie is—Eddie tells him in a whisper, with that glazed-teary look he gets from coming too many times too fast, and a wobbly grin, that he doesn’t think there’s a statue in the whole goddamn world that could ever hold a candle to the feeling he’s coming down from, the feeling of being tangled in Steve’s limbs, the feeling of Steve’s heartbeat under palm as he rides him, the way Steve wraps his own hands around Eddie’s chest and holds him so so close as their chests still heave and Eddie’s pulse jumps into Steve’s touch while they settle: no fucking award could match a sliver of this. And he means it, too; which means the world.

When Eddie decides one album was enough—he has more in him though, always more,he wants to share but he misses a band, misses the brothers-in-arms feeling—it shifts things in unpredictable ways. Eddie’s lyrics catch the eye of the right person and he gets tapped to write for a soundtrack, actually gets his Grammy for the nominated song and confirms that no—after another celebratory round of fucking and pressing so much pride and love by way of lips and hands and the rhythm they strike between them—but no: the honor of a hunk of metal with his name engraved doesn’t match the honor of having this with Steve. Every day. Having this be his life.

Their life.

Steve’s eyes are the furthest thing from dry as he kisses Eddie relentlessly, nothing short of reverent with it, with him: and it kinda just falls into place from there, just different places than either of them expected.

Because where Eddie learns mixing and production on the soundtrack work out of sheer fascination, and starts making both his paycheck and his name as a songwriter and producer, sometimes a special featured guest on a Top 100 track? Steve catches attention much like Eddie did, wholly by chance for something he was doing anyway: wrangling his boyfriend. It wasn’t hard to see the way Eddie could go from tearing his hair out to calming down with a few expertly outfitted words from Steve in the studio when Steve dropped in, and the assumption was that Steve was something of a manager—an assumption neither of them pushed back on—and when one of the studio’s lackeys asked if Steve was interested in more clients, especially the ones who got a little high strung, a little manic with the rush and the pressure of it all in tandem, it hadtaken a second to sink in what was being asked and Steve maybe didn’t have a lick of real experience navigating the industry, but he could learn, he could learn if he tried and if he said yes it’d be harder to get rid of him after hooking him up if it went anywhere so he’d just replied, I was a babysitter in Hawkins, Indiana—because the truth had never come out but after the so-called earthquakes, the rumors had done the work of the truth well enough—and Steve had gotten himself a business card and a date to meet, to ‘sort out particulars’, and maybe Steve had never had much direction save for the fear of working for his father, but landing in the music business had definitely never been on the radar.

Robin cackles when he relays the news, flipping the card around through his fingers almost wonderingly because: this is his life, isn’t it. And it’s no longer got monsters and near-death experiences around every corner—thank fuck—but it’s still just as wild.

He’d like to blame, or thank, Eddie for that but in fairness: the phenomenon had predated his entrance into the mayhem. Though Eddie’s particular brand of joyful insanity is something Steve…can’t bring himself to imagine life without anymore, so.

Basically: suddenly those playbooks from his jock days and his collective apocalypse-averting planning skills, alongside the patience of being the best babysitter in two dimensions, finally came in hand for something less life-threatening, and paying the goddamn bills to boot.

So when the invite does come—and it’s not even a round year, like the 10th or 20th, they’re doing them on the fives as if anyone cares that often, Jesus—but when it comes? Eddie has no reason to go back there, save for every reason to shove the life he has now in everyone’s fucking face.

And Steve doesn’t follow where Eddie goes as a rule, no: he grabs that hand and walks by his side into whatever’s waiting. It’s worked wonders for them so far; shit, they’re still standing, and that counts for just about everything. Definitely puts stock in their approach: side by side, or they’re not going anywhere.

Which is how Steve finds himself dressed in designer clothes—because we can Stevie baby, and I want them to see it—walking into Hawkins High School when he never expected to see its halls again in his life.

But, when Eddie’d explained—not that he’d needed to, Steve was a sure bet—but when he’d said I want them to see they couldn’t break me, as much as they tried, and yes, I do want them to see me on your arm, to know you’re mine and I’m yours and not that I caught the biggest fish in the pond, the most gorgeous steamboat this town had to offer, but that he picked me, and I picked him, and that’s we’ve built a life together that’s kinda fucking beautiful, and I want them to see that sometimes your plans fail, but sometimes the backfire spectacularly and the opposite happens and, and—

And Steve had kissed him breathless because: yeah. Backfired spectacularly, into something spectacular.

But that is how he ends up sitting at the same tables they dragged out for prom in Armani, sighing as another person who recognizes him first—you can tell by the eyes, the way they zero in with either something salacious or something malicious in the stare—and Steve turns to Eddie because it’s part agreement, part game, part survival tactics that Eddie goes to get them another drink when the enemy approaches, so he can swoop in at just the right time to do this shove-their-faces-in-it thing.

Eddie’s up, though not before squeezing Steve’s hand under the table, as a vaguely familiar blond with a sneer takes a seat across from Steve. He thinks they may have crossed paths on the basketball court, like maybe he’d be JV Steve’s last year.

He’s definitely here to be malicious. It’s cute.

“So hard up you’re trawling a reunion two years after yours, Harrington?”

Steve leans back, crosses his arms and lets the light catch the subtle sheen off the obscenely priced shift he’s wearing. Eddie did wanted their wardrobe to make a point.

“Oh, no. I didn’t go to mine,” Steve waves away the question as both idiotic and useless; “I’m here as a plus one.”

The guy, whose name Steve cannot remember for the life of him, frowns.

“You didn’t date that far under you…” the man trails off, and wow. Even the dudes were watching his dating habits? That’s…not at all weird.

“Nope,” Steve answers, tone clipped as he catches Eddie lingering, waiting for the perfect in: “not really.”

Which leaves one to puzzle through who exactly in the Class of ‘87 would have fit that bill, because how many people were held back, who repeated senior year, who—

“Wait,” the guy draws out, piecing together the only real answer and trying to square it with pure incredulity, like the kind that’d come before disgust even, when Eddie slides in next to Steve, mouth close to his ear as he sets a glass in front him.

“A rusty nail for the bat-master,” Eddie delivers, an inside joke of cocktails that throw back to the early days and Steve just smiles and pecks Eddie on the cheek and Eddie settles into his seat, pulled close to Steve’s, and sips his whiskey sour while peering expectantly—tauntingly, and giddy with it—at their uninvited table guest.

Who splutters a little, tries to scoff but fails entirely on account of the spluttering, and turns tail like the coward he is. Like most of these people are.

It keeps at a decent pace for the rest of the evening, a guy he knows is also a plus one, remembers him from the swim team, thinks his name’s Randy. The exchange is predictable.

Where’s Wheeler?

At home, I assume.

Keeping the bed warm in the Windy City then, eh?

She lives in Boston.

Trouble in paradise?

For her? Nah, she sounded good when we talked last.

Huh?

Oh, you meant for me. Things couldn’t be better, really.

Wait.

Cue Eddie with a Pomeranian, which he insists on getting for Steve when they plan this game because he maybe hadn’t been there but, y’know.

Demodogs.

Then there’s a girl he remembers trying to flirt with him at Family Video after he’d already set his sights, and his heart, unshakably on Eddie, but before anything had come of it.

No wedding ring?

Hmm.

Because that’s a class ring, which it is. And he doesn’t wear it on his left ring finger, but his right ring finger.

Good catch.

(Because Steve’s still kinda bitchy when he wants to be. Actually likes to think he’s honed it to an art by now.)

So there’s no Mrs. Harrington—

Eddie doesn’t wait for a better entrance this time, because he’s got a jealous streak and the woman’s leaning a little close, and maybe he puts the drinks down a little and cuts hard so the clack makes her jump back.

“White Russian for you, my love,” Eddie smacks a kiss to Steve’s cheek—which speaks for itself but the irony is Steve actually kinda likes them—before resuming his seat and glaring with the power of a hundred stars and the woman glares back for only a second before she concedes to being outmatched and huffs upon standing and scurrying away to a single trump hang cackle and a broad grin from Steve who tries to hide it in the lip of his glass.

And of course, there’s always the quickest way to the point:

Always did take you for the peaked in high school posterboy. Ah. One of Jason’s followers, too young for Steve to have known, only to know of.

For a while there, me too.

(And yeah. For a while: Steve was well on his way. Funny how things change. How they can change do goddamn much.)

Never more glad to have been wrong, lemme tell you.

What’s with the ring, still?

Oh, this? The sentimental value’s too high. Think it’d break my heart to take it off.

(And if Steve inspects it with an outstretched hand so Bigot Junior can see the clear etching of the numbers, a year that’s not Steve’s but the one celebrated here tonight, the contortion of the guy’s face is worth the dramatics.)

Wait.

“A bat bite for you, my liege,” Eddie only makes the cocktails that pointed when he wants to make a point, and only calls Steve that when he’s a little horny. So: from the dead-eyed stare he chases away the unwelcome member of his former witch-hunt, to the pleasant looseness Steve’s feeling in limbs this many drinks in, he doesn’t hesitate to stand when Eddie’s offers him a hand, neither of them having even halved their drinks, and Steve himself is willing to take the lead as they leave the gym and make their way to the only place suited for a quick bit of fun.

And of course Hawkins isn’t any better at security, because their destination’s blessedly unlocked.

“It looks the same,” Eddie breathes with a little nostalgia in it—surveying the drama room that’d been the site of so many battles, so many memories—before Steve’s backing him into the open costume closet and claiming his mouth like a man possessed.

Not his fault he’s also fucking horny. Eddie’s possessive streak and the hint of preening bitch about him all night…to ask Steve to be anything but turned the fuck on would be laughable.

“Back to the scene of the crime,” Eddie mouths, a little wickedly as he breaks away to drag his teeth up Steve’s jawline, to nip at his earlobe.

“Hopper’s still got connections,” Steve sighs as Eddie nibbles around the shell of his ear, rocks his hips against Steve’s groin; “plus I’ve never been all that concerned about being on the right side of the law.”

“True,” Eddie purrs; “wouldn’t’ve shacked up with me if you were.”

Steve huffs a laugh and rolls his hips until Eddie falters a little; groans loud enough to echo in the empty space.

“Are we gonna do this til we come in our pants?” Steve gasps, because he’s like, genuinely wondering.

“Would take a while,” Eddie tilts his head, tries to bite his lip in consideration but he’s panting too heavy; but he’s not wrong. They’re grown men; they don’t pop off at the drop of a hat anymore.

Makes the build up all the sweeter.

“These suits rented or did we buy them?” Steve asks, because that’s crucial information—not that it would be the deciding factor, he mostly just curious. Eddie took care of all that.

“You wound me,” Eddie growls; “purchased outright baby, and you look fucking delicious in it.”

Well, okay. Yeah. So: they have to pay the dry cleaning. And the growling does shorten the anticipated timeframe for, y’know. Finishing the job.

It’s a turn on. So sue him.

“Did you want to stick around?” because that’d be more pressing; Steve doesn’t love walking around with stained and sticky pants. He’s a fucking adult, to add to the point. So if they’re aiming for the grand finale and not just fooling around, and need to mingle with the cretins still in the gym after, Steve figures they should maybe do some logistics.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Eddie answers while he moves to start tugging at Steve’s lower lip with his teeth, leaving them red and swollen before he’s thrusting his tongue in with purpose.

“I want what you want,” Steve murmurs, breathless and little strained around bruised lips but: it’s not a line. He means that with his whole heart. Always.

And Eddie knows it. Still pulls back just enough to look Steve in the eye and…marvel at him. Which settles it.

Steve kisses Eddie, and hard, or at least hard enough to daze him a little. Enough for Steve to make his way to his knees.

“Oh, that speeds things up,” Eddie huffs a laugh as Steve works practiced fingers to free Eddie’s growing hard-on, which juts fully by the time Steve got his dick out just from Steve’s fingers.

And well: Steve’s maybe ruthless about how he plays to Eddie’s every weakness to get him off in probably about a minute tops—which Steve swallows and licks and tucks back in like he always has, takes good care.

“I think that dress is the one we stained in the spring of ‘87,” Eddie comments idly, as he has a tendency to do after he’s come down Steve’s throat. “Think they’ve ever cleaned it?”

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand for leverage to get to his feet while he scrunches his nose.

“I honestly don’t want to find out.”

And then he kisses Eddie full-on, feeds him his own taste on Steve’s tongue because he knows Eddie loves it, loves what it means and what it’s always meant. Eddie moans into it, sucks at Steve’s tongue with his own desperate whine, kisses and kisses and sucks Steve’s tongue obscene until neither can fucking breathe, until their heads fall together— Eddie keeps holding onto Steve’s hand though, playing with his fingers, special attention to his ring. Knows it thrills Steve a little like that, too.

And then Steve figures they’ll make one more round for Eddie to shine, but then the hand still in his tugs opposite the door.

“Uh uh uh,” Eddie tuts, leading him back into the middle of the room; “fair’s fair, big boy,” and he stops them in front of…

Oh.

“Why don’t you take the throne,” Eddie coos in Steve’s ear and nudges his ass toward the DM throne that held so very many good memories; “and I’ll do the honors of worshipping at your feet.”

Steve spins himself around from the grasp of Eddie’s fingers around his wrist, playful, and raises a brow at Eddie just as cheeky.

“You mean my crotch?”

Eddie sucks on his lip and puts a considering fingertip to the corner of his chin.

“Doesn’t roll off the tongue the same way,” he drawls, dimples as lethal as ever, the dancing in his eyes something Steve’ll never get tired of feeling the sway of through his stomach, in his chest, that kind of rhythmic delight.

“You’re the lyricist,” Steve concedes, but then oh, they’ve been together so long now—even if he didn’t have a bitchy gene he’d have learned by now:

“But I mean, in reality your tongue is gonna—“

Then it’s not a nudge, it’s a full slap to Steve’s ass and a grab to finish off, and a laugh from them both and…yeah.

Yeah: it’s never changed. It’s never gotten old. It never will. It’s always this fire, this thrumming love and life in his veins.

“Get up there,” Eddie cackles and Steve shove him a little before he climbs on the raised plank, takes the seat, makes to spread his legs but—

Eddie’s just standing. Staring. Gazing, maybe. Awed, like that, too, never changed.

Steve’s heart double-beats to see it, always, like the core of him wants to eat it up extra. Always.

Always.

“Help me up?” Eddie asks, voice a tiny bit strained and Steve goes to stand because they both still feel the scars of their pasts in their bodies sometimes, especially as it gets colder, and maybe they’ve just been at it too long with the trip out this way and the night itself, maybe Eddie’s—

“You hurting?” Steve asks, ready to climb back down, whatever Eddie needs and—

“Nah babe,” Eddie’s voice is soft, but there’s no pain there; it’s tender for feeling, not hurting; “just don’t want disturb the scenery,” he points at the mismatched props scattered around and leans in to whisper theatrically: “this is a clandestine liaison.”

And Steve snorts, because he always finds Eddie antics funny if absurd.

He sits, then turns to share the laughter of it, expects Eddie behind him, getting on the shitty plywood dias but no: he’s on his knees already okay, of course but—

Eddie’s on one knee. Just one knee.

“Eds?” Steve feels his eyes widen as Eddie just…is still doing the staring, all awed-like, and yeah, yeah.

All Steve’s heart wants is to double-beat the shit out of eating up that feeling. But then also it’s racing, and he doesn’t even know if understands what he’s seeing.

Because Eddie’s on his knee. One knee.

And there’s a little…box.

Steve knows what usually in a box that size, and add that to being on one knee—

“Steven Warren Harrington,” Eddie says his name like every syllable is something…sacred. “I’m not about to say anything you don’t already know.”

And…Eddie’s right. Steve knows he’ll be right. And the way Eddie says his name isn’t new, either. But, but—

Fuck if Steve not already got tears in his eyes.

“Nothing you don’t already know,” Eddie repeats with a smile so sweet and soft; “like how you’re the sun in my sky, the star I orbit around,” and his smile gets a little wider, like there bliss in just speaking it; there’s definitely bliss in just hearing it.

“The joy I wake up to and the safety I fall asleep beside,” then he’s reaching for Steve’s hand, his left hand, and kissing at the knuckles.

“The hand that’s in mine for all the hard things and all the wonderful things and all the in-between things because with you it’s all some version of joy, even if it’s a deep buried joy but it is joy because it’s with you,” and he means it, Steve means it when he’s said it before: even the hurting seems to break out in the end like a diamond for the pressure, not all of it but something of it just because it’s them.

But then Eddie’s kissing up Steve’s fingers, lingering on, on, on one in particular, and he’s trembling the slightest bit and—

“I have never thought of what we have as being anything less than forever,” Eddie whispers fervently into his skin; “but I’m also greedy, and needy, and more in love with you every day, every breath, every heartbeat,” and he drags Steve’s hand then to his chest as he half gasps out:

“If souls are real, mine’s just,” Eddie gasps a little, but it’s so wreathed in his almost hopeless, definitely wholly devoted smile; “mine’s just made up of you and thank fuck for that, Stevie, I,” his breath catches, and Steve feels his heart double-beating for the racing, wanting to take it all in and beat it through his veins, top-to-toe.

“Steve. Warren. Harrington,” Eddie says with so much love, flattening Steve’s hand straight to his sternum, the beat so fast, but his voice so certain:

“Would you put forever on paper with me?”

The gasp escapes Steve without permission, and waters into a sob so predictably, but it feels…like something beautiful. He drags Eddie up into his lap and kisses the soul he spoke of out of him as best he can because Eddie might think it’s made of Steve, but what Steve gets to taste on his tongue is magnificent, and it’s entirely Eddie.

It’s every yes he knows how to give.

“Eddie,” Steve finally gasps when they have to break for breath, his hand on Eddie’s chest again; “how—“

And Eddie produces papers, printed itineraries that Steve can’t even read because his eyes are still clouded by tears, by too much overwhelming joy still spilling out.

“Our trip to Paris in April,” Eddie tells him, saves him from the blindness this love has left him with as a fucking gift; “I called to see if we could make an extended layover in Boston for the ceremony,” and Eddie sets the papers aside and gathers Steve’s hands together, lifts them to kiss before pressing them back to his chest; “then we could make some tweaks to the trip if we wanted it to be our honeymoon.”

Steve takes his hands back and swaps their position, presses Eddie’s hands to his tripping-skipping heart, now.

“If,” Steve laughs a little, kinda wild, just short of giddy; “was there any doubt?”

And Eddie leans in, kisses Steve’s neck from the base up to his mouth where he breathes:

“I think, only because it felt like it was wrong to have none at all,” Eddie murmurs low, but sweet, like he’s got the giddy wildness, too: “deep down, no.”

And then Eddie cradles Steve’s cheeks and breaths:

“I’ve never once doubted you.”

And Steve leans to kiss him so hard, so swift, so full of his soul, wanted like this, his pulse high in his throat and heavy, he fucking hopes Eddie can taste it and—

They part their lips wet, and messy, and gasping and they’re both just clinging, just grinning so hard it hurts as Eddie grabs for the ring box and meets Steve’s eyes as he slides the contents onto Steve’s finger: his heart quadruple beats, for that. Steve’s never felt so, so…

Full.

“I still owe you a blowjob,” Eddie whispers suddenly, and stills like it takes him by surprise, and then—

Then they’re falling into each other’s arms and cackling, fucking giggling and, and—

That life could be like this never ceases to amaze Steve. Swear to god, he’ll never stop marveling.

“Make it quick,” Steve chokes out between cackling, and he never once lets his ring out of his peripheries; “I want you to show me off as your fiancé a little before people start to leave.”

Eddie’s grin makes it clear Steve’s absolutely read his mind—and he’s only too happy to oblige.

~fin~

✨start at the beginning✨

Happiest of birthdays @penny00dreadful—I hope it was spectacular 💜 🎉

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson

divider credits here & here

👾 title credit here

💫 ao3 link here

#read this on ao3 last night. cried.

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