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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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Memory Log: Day 52

part 1 here | part 2 here | part 3 here | part 5 here | part 6 here (ao3 link here)

After seeing his ink-smeared biography all over Eddie Munson’s arm, Steve becomes extremely motivated. Obsessed, even.

He assembles a makeshift army. Eddie’s Memory Soldiers, he calls it. Okay - he doesn’t call it that out loud, only to himself (because even Steve is self-aware enough to know how deranged this all sounds).

Steve compiles a ragtag group of Eddie’s friends to nudge his brain along faster. Band mates, theater dweebs, potheads that can carry a tune. All of them bring mixtapes on their visits. After two weekends, there’s already a fuckload of thrashy melodies for Eddie to choose from.

He lets them take the reins on this music-healing plan because there’s no fucking way Steve will be helpful in that department. It means less visits that include his presence, which sort of sucks, but it’s worth it. Worth it to get Eddie back to where he used to be.

Before Steve heads out for one of his morning visits, Robin interrogates him. Asks him the question he’s been ignoring for weeks.

“Steve… not to sound harsh, but why do you care so much?”

Yeah. Why does he care so much?

She quickly follows it up with, “I just didn’t know you two were friends now. So I’m just curious, I guess.”

They’re not friends. They’re lukewarm tolerators - tethered together by monster hunting and Dustin Henderson.

They’ve flirted, sure. But who doesn’t? Steve would flirt with half of the leggy cartoon characters that appear on Saturday Mornings if he could. So that’s a weak argument to assume they’re more than just friends. Tolerators. Whatever.

So he lies. To Robin. To himself. Lies so much that it sits in his stomach like motion sickness.

He answers the exact same way he’s been answering since day one:

“I’m just doing this for the kids, Robs.”

He’s pretty sure neither of them are buying that statement. He tries again. Stamps the words onto his confused brain. Considers writing them on his arm just like Eddie might do.

“I’m doing it for them.”

Eddie is always on his Walkman (Steve’s Walkman) now that he has skyscraper of cassettes on his desk. Pretty much every time Steve returns, Eddie is head banging. Won’t stop until the nurses scold him.

Or Steve. He’ll stop if Steve scolds him too.

“You can’t keep jostling up your brain, Munson.” Steve whips the headphones off of Eddie’s ears. “Gonna undo all of our hard work.”

“Our hard work?” Eddie attempts to grab the headphones back. Gives up as soon as their hands make contact. “And who might be included in this our that you speak of?”

“You know…” Me. “The doctors and nurses and your friends.”

“Right.”

This is how things have been going lately. Eddie teases him mercilessly and Steve bats it all away. Doesn’t encourage it for a second.

Which blows so hard because he wants to flirt back. Steve wants to know what Eddie feels like beyond tubes and bandages and hospital gowns. He wants way too much after watching Eddie fall asleep smiling that night. After finding out that Eddie scams his own mind into remembering Steve in technicolor details every day.

But it feels wrong. Deep down, there’s this part of Steve that worries that Eddie only likes the scribbled notes, the good qualities of himself. The non-prickster qualities.

He doesn’t scribble the bad qualities on his arm. Eddie lets himself forget about those every night.

So it seems wrong. Unfair to let Eddie only remember the good parts of him and take advantage of his weak mind.

Life was a fucking breeze before Steve cared about not taking advantage of people. Shit, he used the world’s biggest advantage-taker before all of this evil wizard nonsense.

“Quiz me, Harrington.” Eddie insists.

So Steve does. Steve goes down the list of questions. Things that Eddie’s memory typically hesitates to recognize.

Music helps Eddie remember his childhood memories the best.

That’s the biggest discovery they’ve made over the last fourteen days. Tapes that include songs from the early to mid 70’s have the biggest mental impact on his memory skills. Every day, he recalls more moments from his past.

Winter birthday parties. Recess and tire swings. Nineteen chickenpox. A pet hamster named Sterling.

“Can’t believe Wayne trusted you with a living creature.” Steve sneers.

“Never said he did.”

He always gets fuzzy with stuff from the late 70s though. And the early 80s is just a jumbled-up shit show. That’s when Eddie really starts failing his quiz.

“What year did you get the tattoo on your chest?”

“You mean this one?” Eddie pulls down the wrinkly hospital gown, exposing way too much of his collarbone. “Or this one?” He pulls the fabric down even further.

They must’ve finally turned the heat on in this place. Or maybe Steve’s sweater is just extra itchy, scratching his skin all splotchy red. He rubs furiously at the collar, spreads the flush all over by accident.

His eyes dart up to the fluorescent lights. Away from Eddie’s chest. “Um… the… creepy guy.”

“You’ll sprain your neck looking up like that.”

“Good thing I’m in a hospital then.”

“Okay - seriously, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure.” Eddie snorts. His heart monitor beeps faster. Steve hates that laughing must be a bit painful for him. “And he’s not some creepy guy. He’s a creepy demon. Please respect the body art and get your facts right.”

“Fine.”

Not flirting back makes Steve feel like he could break out into hives. He has a fucking stockpile of pickup lines. He hoards provocative catchphrases like a horny pack rat. Talking is becoming increasingly difficult when he can’t banter back the way he wants to.

“Don’t remember what year I got it.” Eddie admits. “Sorry.”

Steve pulls his focus away from the ceiling and scribbles that down:

Eddie still can’t remember when he got his tattoos.

“Gee mister,” Eddie imitates a very masculine Shirley Temple voice. “Am I failing the pop quiz already?”

Eddie remembers who Shirley Temple is (weird, but okay).

Eddie does a really shitty impression of Shirley Temple.

Steve just keeps writing. Not even writing words anymore, just moving the pen to stay focused. Stay distracted from flirting.

The energy starts to feel swampy and stiff as he continues to give short responses with lifeless enthusiasm. Steve can tell that Eddie is picking up on the weirdness too.

He’s so fidgety. Drumming his fingers, twisting the one ring he’s allowed to wear on one of his less busted fingers. Bobbing his knees and kicking off his blankets.

Eventually, Eddie puts his (Steve’s) headphones back on and closes his eyes. A nonverbal surrender. A borrowed Walkman instead of a white flag. Why does it feel so shitty to see that he is just as defeated as Steve?

Once Eddie is asleep, Steve peaks over at his arms.

The notes are still there. Fading, but there.

It shouldn’t jab him in the heart the way that it does every time he checks, but christ. It’s so fucked up.

Slowly but surely, Eddie is gaining pieces of his past, but never his present. Why the fuck is that? Steve is so selfishly pissed about that because he’s a main role in Eddie’s present life.

He’s the one that’s here most days. He’s the one that listens to Eddie’s rants and incessant complaints. He’s the one that calls the nurses when Eddie is too prideful to admit when he’s in pain.

Steve should be remembered without smudgey reminders and foggy recollections.

Steve should be un-fucking-forgettable.

After an unhealthy amount of moping, he comes up with an idea. Well, Dustin comes up with an idea, actually. Steve bribed him with nougat and R-rated movie rentals to construct a gameplan.

“And you need Eddie to remember your favorite sweater…why?” Dustin’s mouth is full of chewy candy as he asks.

Steve chucks a raisinette at his dumb hat. “I thought we agreed this was a no questions asked request.”

“You suggested that.” Dustin points at Steve. “I never agreed to it though.”

This is the part Steve despises. If he admits it to others, he has to admit it to himself. And while he’s come a long way since that first day with Eddie, he’s not there yet. His pride can only take so much vulnerability before it fractures completely. “Just… I’m testing a theory I have on his newest memories.”

“Right. And what theory would that be?”

That he thinks about me in kissable ways. “That he remembers more than he gives himself credit for.”

Dustin chugs back his soda and scrunches the can in his grasp. “Okay. Well, the mixtape theory is working decently well with older memories, right?

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“So maybe it can work with newer memories too.”

Steve is lost already. “Meaning?”

“Find songs that relate to you.” Dustin shrugs like duh. He must sense Steve’s hesitation, so he sputters back into his brainy explanation. “Think about it: you’re there all the time -”

“Not all the time, but -”

“Shut the hell up. You’re there all the time, so he must remember the essence of Steve Harrington.”

Steve fake gags. “Don’t say essence, that’s fucking gross.”

“Will you stop interrupting? Jesus christ.” Dustin yells, scrunching the soda can even more with his irritation. “Just make a mixtape with stuff that relates to you. Get his current memories to stick with lyrics and shit.”

Steve twists his mouth to one side. Then the other. “That’s…”

“Genius?”

“I was gonna say worth a shot, but sure.” Steve agrees. “We’ll go with your conceited analysis.”

Dustin finally picks up the raisinette from earlier. Throws it back at Steve. “You should be nicer to me. I possibly just solved your dilemma.”

“I should be nicer to you?” Steve tosses the raisinette into his mouth, despite its questionable duration on the floor. “Dude, you’re never nice to me.”

“Yeah, but it’s affectionate hostility.”

“And that makes it better?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Fine.” Steve rolls eyes, offers a hand to Dustin. “Thank you for the hostile affection.”

Dustin accepts the handshake. He’s overly smug about it too. “You’re very welcome.”

Memory Log: Day 53

Right away, Steve determines it’s a Kathy Day. Eddie is a verbal nightmare already, whining about the dead batteries in his tv remote.

“I’ll get Sam to grab some batteries when her shift starts.” Steve reassures the bitchy entity possessing Eddie Munson’s body at the moment.

“Why don’t you just get the damn batteries?” Eddie bites back. “You have legs, don’t you?”

“You have eyes, don’t you? Of course, I have fucking legs.” Steve can play it this game. Doesn’t want to but he can be just as obnoxious if Eddie keeps going with his attitude. “Please don’t pull this Kathy shit today.”

That simultaneously shuts them both up for a while. Steve begins flipping through one of the outdated magazines on Eddie’s desk, avoiding the escalated atmosphere. At this rate, there’s no fucking way Steve is going to bring up his mixtape. Kathy/Eddie will probably smash it. Roll over it with the wheels on his imprisoning hospital bed.

Eddie clears his throat, speaking softer than he did at Steve’s arrival. “You know… you were sort of a Kathy yourself yesterday.”

Eddie remembers Steve’s weird mood from the day before (needs to check Eddie’s arm notes to make sure he didn’t write that down).

“Yeah well… I’m allowed to be the pissy one sometimes.” Steve doesn’t look up. He just keeps pretending to read the fossilized magazine in his hand.

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” There’s another pause. Just as awkward as the last one. Their dynamics today are clashing harder than their music styles. Eddie breaks through the awkwardness once again. “So… what’s on the brain agenda today?”

Eddie remembers their pop quizzes.

Right. The quiz. The quiz that Steve has no intention of administering today because he’s supposed to give Eddie this stupid mixtape.

And look, Steve is pretty good at avoiding shit - homework and phone calls and extended family members. He’s good at dodging shit too, like the relentless one-night stands that can never seem to take a goddamn hint.

But this situation is different because Steve would clearly like to avoid the potential weirdness of giving Eddie Munson a gift. However, he’s innately aware that this particular gift could be helpful. Maybe more to himself than to Eddie, but who knows? If Eddie gets his memory tank back on track and Steve gets someone that reciprocates his affections?

The payoff might be worth the weirdness.

“I actually wanted to contribute to your…” Steve gestures apathetically at the stack of tapes.

Eddie looks over at them and then back to Steve. “Oh you mean, Munsonopolis?”

“Boooo.” Steve heckles him immediately for that.

“You think of something better then.”

Steve thinks about this way too hard. “The Ed-pire State Building.”

“Boooo.” Eddie imitates Steve’s heckling.

“Better than yours.”

“Says who?”

“Says anyone with a sense of humor.”

“Brave of you to call that a sense of humor.”

“What can I say?” Steve clicks his mouth twice and does the most douchey finger-gun bit, blowing out the nonexistent smoke from each index finger. “I’m something else.”

Eddie bites down over his lip, hard enough that it goes white for a second. Doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve while he bares down.

“You sure are, Steve.”

Oh shit - did they just mindlessly segue onto Flirtation Boulevard without even trying? Is it really that natural with Eddie? Damnit, Steve needs to get his mind on the task at hand.

“Here.” He walks over, lays the tape on Eddie’s lap.

“Is this another one from Gareth?” Eddie flips the tape over, studies the back. “Cause I already assured him that I remember the concert we went to back in ‘84.”

Eddie remembers one of his closest friends.

“No, this one is actually…” Just fucking own up, Steve. “Well, I made it.”

Eddie’s eyes do that sequin thing again. Almost turn into disco balls. “You made me a mixtape?”

Ugh. “Don’t get too flattered, Munson.”

“Too late.”

Steve was afraid that might be the case. So he does his damndest to channel Dustin Henderson. Provide a scientific explanation to his crush-driven theory. “It’s just an extension of our little music experiment. Some stuff that will help you remember me.”

“And why exactly do you want me to remember you?” Eddie does the same lip biting thing from before. He bites harder, and the color stays white even longer this time.

Steve involuntarily glances down at Eddie’s arm, giving himself away.

“Oh.” Eddie stops biting his lip, swiftly lifts the blankets over his arms. Hiding what Steve already knows is there. “Look… that’s just -”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, really.”

Eddie looks down, nodding in agreement. “Right. But it’s not-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a firm hand on Eddie’s shoulder because he can’t. He can’t listen to whatever Eddie is about to confirm or deny. “It’s okay. I mean it.”

He’s not ready for it, for whatever barricade that’s between them to come crashing down. Steve didn’t bring the proper tools to shield himself from raw emotions or desperate declarations of true feelings. And from the way Eddie goes breathless and tense under Steve’s shoulder-grip, he doesn’t think Eddie has the proper tools for that either.

“So you uh…” Eddie peers down at Steve’s hand. Catches a glimpse then abruptly looks away again. “Do you want me to listen now or…”

God no. Steve releases his grip at that thought. “Wait till I leave.”

“Got it.”

The rest of the visit goes both fairly smoothly. There are only a few lingering particles of awkward tension left behind. It doesn’t bother Steve, not necessarily. The whole day has been kind of all over the place, just like Eddie’s Literary Behavioral Scale. So this uneasy atmosphere is to be expected.

They talk about movies while Steve packs up his things to leave. Eddie asks about all the new movies that have come out since he’s been in the hospital. Steve tells him to make a list of the ones he’s interested in seeing. Tells him that they’ll have a marathon at his place once they’re released to vhs. Eddie says he knows a guy that sells bootlegs before the vhs release date, but Steve shoots that idea down so fucking fast.

It’s not their usual banter, but that’s okay. At least they're talking. Getting along. Tolerating one another at a lukewarm temperature again.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve is met with the most anxiety-ridden face. Eddie’s whole forehead is covered in wrinkles, like that one fancy dog breed that his next-door neighbor used to have. There’s no shimmer in Eddie’s eyes, no disco balls. It’s all just dull. Fearful.

“Sorry if the arm thing made you...” Eddie trips over his words. He pinches the skin between his eyes, makes his even more forehead wrinkles. “I don’t know what’s the word I’m looking for.. Uncomfortable, I guess.”

“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” It made Steve a lot of other things: gutted, determined, confused, sulky, smitten. But no. Worried did not make Steve’s grocery list of Feelings.

“Don’t forget to tell Sam about the batteries on your way out.”

Eddie remembers bitching about the batteries.

Yeah, Steve’s memory isn’t the faulty one here. Even so, Steve reassures him:

“I won’t forget, Eds.”

Day 56:

Wayne had a couple days off from work and took over Steve’s Wednesday and Thursday shifts in the hospital. It’s probably for the best - especially since Steve decided to do the most high school shit ever, and gift Eddie a fucking bouquet in the form of radio hits and plastic.

He’s breaking out from the stress, just marinating on what Eddie’s thoughts might be of the mixtape. It can��t be good. None of the songs are his typical riffs of eternal damnation or whatever. But it certainly sounds like Steve Harrington in a Speaker. So it better help him picture Steve dressed in the tackiest, most burnable sweaters imaginable, goddamnit.

But like, why is he breaking out from thinking about Eddie Munson? Absurd. All of it. The feelings and the acne. His weird little crush is making him regress into adolescent woes and it’s pissing him off.

After popping the zit and crossing his fingers that it’s not outrageously noticeable, Steve sucks in a deep breath, and heads into Eddie’s hospital room.

“There’s my favorite Material Girl.” Eddie lowers the headphones, smiles bonus-level wide.

Steve’s gulps. His face feels like a fucking toaster. “I take it you listened to the tape?”

“I didn’t just listen to the tape.” Eddie picks up the Walkman and smacks it against the side of his head. “I practically absorbed that bubblegum bullshit. Think some of it is still stuck in my teeth.”

Steve plays along, hoping that his face will return to its usual complexion. “You should see a dentist about that.”

“With what insurance?”

“That’s fair.” Steve slides his hands into his jean pockets. He’s so rigid. “So?”

“So?”

“Final conclusion?”

“Oh, I hated it.” Eddie says bluntly. “In a very stick-that-syringe-in-my-neck kind of way.”

“Shocker.” Steve actually expected a meaner response than that.

“Why did you put so many songs on there that use Girl in the title?”

“Hey - it’s not my fault that all of the rich poster child songs are about women.” Steve gets defensive about that one. Honestly, it’s true. There needs to be more music about wealthy guys with genetically flawless hair. Somebody needs to get on that shit so Steve can have more songs that apply to him.

“Whatever you say, man.”

“So did it…” Steve is still standing. Hovering a bit. “Did it help?”

Eddie sticks out both of his arms, flipping to reveal his forearms to Steve.

They’re blank, besides the usual tattoos and contusions. They’re as blank as Eddie’s arms can be at the moment. No more Steve Cheat Sheet to be found.

Steve exhales all of his relief. “And you remember me?”

“Remembering you was never the problem, Steve.”

“It wasn’t?”

Eddie shakes his head. “But if I ever allowed myself to forget, I…” He taps rapidly over the Walkman. Steve’s Walkman. “I just didn’t wanna risk starting over.”

“Oh.”

“With you.”

The metaphorical arrow, the one Steve has alway seen on department store Valentines Day cards, goes straight through his chest. Eddie aims the words with you directly for Steve’s heart. Punctures that wall he built up after Nancy Wheeler.

The monitor connected to Eddie is beeping faster again. It’s not like that day Eddie was writhing in pain. No, it’s a different tempo.

It sounds like his nerves are conducting the pattern. He’s nervous. Steve is making him nervous.

Or Steve’s lack of response is making him nervous.

But how does Steve respond? Is this Eddie giving him permission to flirt back again? To keep driving down the detour of attraction, take the scenic route?

Eddie’s heart monitor is screaming, ‘say something, Steve.’

But Steve’s archive of failed relationships is screaming, back, ‘don’t fuck this up, dickhead.’

Steve tries to meet the two in the middle. Say something inviting yet keep it simple.

“So… do you wanna make fun of the shitty soap operas together?”

Steve puts a little emphasis on the together part, hoping it’ll tame the monitor. Make the tones evenly paced. He lets his hand tap once against Eddie’s arm. Right over his newly blank wrist. So clean. No more scribbles.

“I don’t know, I’ll have to check my schedule.” Eddie teases with his words, sure. But his hand lifts up. Tapping Steve back. Twice. “I’m a very busy man, you see.”

Steve shoves him away, laughing as he does it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re not wrong.”

His monitor is ballad again.

One of Eddie’s (many) doctors walks into the room during their third hour of mocking the Home Shopping Network. Eddie has developed an elaborate backstory that they’re all cyborgs who are taking civilian money to grow their army of killer robots. Steve is surprisingly on board with this theory after the second hour. Some red headed lady twitches her eyes way too much to be human.

The doctor runs a few tests, looks over Eddie’s chart, the typical procedure. However, at the end of the visit, he decides to put Eddie on a new medication for his headaches.

Headaches…

Steve flips back to that first day he started visiting Eddie. Finds the note he passive-aggressively took back then:

Eddie has a headache (that’s not a memory thing - he’s just told Steve a thousand times now).

He fans through the other pages as well. At least two-thirds of them mention Eddie complaining about headaches. How did Steve miss this? How could he be so stupid? He was too busy fantasizing about Eddie’s chest tattoos and making shitty mixtapes, that he glossed over something so significant.

Dustin wouldn’t have missed this. Robin wouldn’t have missed this. Nancy definitely wouldn’t have missed this - hell, she would’ve already cracked the Case of the Missing Memories by now.

Steve is the wrong man for this job. Not enough brainpower to fix a broken brain.

“Uh oh.” Eddie says. “Where you’d go, Harrington?”

Steve glances up to see Eddie pointing his finger at Steve’s head. “Just.. thinking.”

“Share with the class, please.”

Steve struggles to make his voice sound causal about this. “I should’ve known about the headaches. Paid better attention.”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asks. “Because if you are, we need to work on your delivery.”

“Not joking, no.”

Eddie’s tone is mildly annoyed, still gentle though. “Stevie… that guy gets paid a shitload of money to figure out my problems. Truly - the reason there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is because it’s going straight into that guy’s pocket.”

Steve snorts. It’s even funnier to visualize because the doctor is kind of short.

“What I’m saying is, it’s his job to have a big brain.” Eddie’s eye contact is sharp. Broken bottle to his neck sharp. “And your job is to be my eye candy. Sit there and look cute while I try to not hack up my dinner.”

Steve’s hearing went crackly at all of the compliments. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

Steve no longer has an excuse not to flirt back. Eddie has his mixtape; his arms are bare. He’s obviously encouraging it, even with the knowledge that Steve is a spoiled brat. He likes Steve, not just the good stuff. Eddie is still willing to pursue this even with Steve’s bad qualities.

So fuck it. Steve is gonna delve into his stockpile of pickup lines. He’s gonna rummage around his hoard of provocative catchprashes. Be the horny pack rat that he was born to be.

“Is the sitting part of my job description mandatory?” Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“Oh, I’m very lenient on that detail.” Eddie’s voice drops lower. “The cute part… not so much.”

“So you’re only keeping me around for what? My great hair? My symmetrical bone structure? My biceps, maybe?”

“Definitely not your humility, that’s for damn sure.”

They share a smile as Steve gets up, inches closer to Eddie’s bed. He reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Eddie’s hospital gown between his fingers. He cautiously rubs it over a few times, waiting to see Eddie’s reaction to this droplet of affection.

Eddie catches Steve’s wrist with his other hand. Mirrors the rubbing motion Steve set in place with the material.

“Hey.”

Steve nudges Eddie lightly. “Is this okay?”

And before he can even get a response back, Eddie’s face starts turning grayish-green.

This happens. Eddie throws up biweekly, so it’s not a big deal at all. It’s just that Steve is usually not laying on the moves when Eddie is about to blow chunks. Honestly, it knocks Steve’s astronomical ego down a few notches.

He probably deserves it.

Eddie is really sick. He pukes three more times, and he starts running a fever after the second time. He’s all clammy and curled into a pillow, clutching it with shaky fingers.

It’s all side effects from the new medication apparently. Yeah, Eddie’s head is no longer splitting open, but his body is rejecting all of the cardboard hospital food.

Steve keeps an eye on him, not that he can do much about it. He gets a styrofoam cup of ice chips so Eddie can chew on it whenever his temperature spikes. He wipes the sweat off Eddie’s temples because one - it’s a nice gesture, and two - it gives him an excuse to be nearby.

The shivering is driving Steve crazy though. He’s so on edge just watching Eddie like this. Eddie keeps making jokes like ‘at least I’ll remember your stupid worried face in the morning’ or ‘damn, my past better be worth all of this.’ And Steve will chuckle halfheartedly each time.

The heart monitor is all jumpy now. Even, uneven, even, uneven. If Steve focuses on it for too long, it starts to sound like he’s driving by a highway collision. A pileup of beeps and tones.

He gets another cup of cafeteria coffee. Hopes the bitterness and chalky creamer will be enough to muffle his hearing. Steer his mind to an empty exit lane.

“What? No coffee for me?” Eddie is under an extra blanket now.

Steve scoots his chair even closer to Eddie’s bedside. “What’s the point? You’d just puke it all up.” He’s pretty lousy at supportive words, isn’t he?

“Aren’t visiting hours almost over?”

“You trying to get rid of me, Munson?”

“Never. Just figured you needed to catch the bus or whatever.”

Eddie remembers Steve taking the bus.

“Robin finally gave me my car back.” Steve conveniently leaves out how he demanded for it to be returned to him. “So, I’ll stay until they kick me out… if that’s cool with you.”

He places his non-coffee holding hand over top of Eddie’s open palm. It’s sort of instinctual. Doesn’t give his mind a moment to wonder if this is crossing a line.

Holding hands in a hospital doesn’t mean romance. It never has. People do it all time, no one bats an eye at them either. It’s just a gesture of helpless support. It’s what people do to signify, ‘I can’t heal you with medicine, but I can warm your under-circulated skin just a little.’

But when Eddie’s fingers curl around his own, Steve’s stomach swells like its romance. It swells with hot air, helium maybe. It swells and stays swollen. Stays thermal and full.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to pay my eye candy overtime.” Eddie’s face rushes all pinkish-red. Almost as if he’s trying to combat his blush with humor, but it’s not working. He’s all the colors now. And with or without them, he’s attractive.

“You don’t pay me at all.”

“You got me there.” Eddie shakes a frizzy curl in front of his cheek. A poor effort to hide his flushed face. “I’m a terrible employer.”

Steve traces the grooves of Eddie’s palm lines. Pretends that they form a railroad track. “The worst.”

Once his fever finally breaks, Eddie falls asleep. His body unfolds, his fingers uncurl. It’s a heavy sleep, one that makes him all languid and soft. Any traces of bones are questionable now.

And even though Steve is about to pass out from exhaustion, he doesn’t move his hand from Eddie’s. He’d rather give up his whole arm than move it.

Sam peaks in just before Steve nods off. She lets in the bright hallway light, not too much though. Not enough to wake Eddie. Honestly, not a lot of things wake Eddie up these days.

“Sorry.” Steve yawns. “I overstayed my welcome.”

She shrugs, checks the fluids in one of Eddie’s IV bags. “You know, you can stay the night, if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“It’s pretty late… you shouldn’t be driving on the highway at this time of night.”

“Won’t I…” Steve reworks the phrase. Tries to be less selfish about it. “Won’t you get in trouble for letting me stay?”

“Oh no.” She winks. “Because I never saw you here.”

Steve smirks. “Got it.”

“But if I did see you here,” She gestures her head to the door on her right. “I would tell you there’s extra pillows in the linen closet over there.”

Sam deserves a fucking raise. Steve would become a goddamn patron of this hospital just to give her more money. Let the godsend of a woman retire early for christ’s sake.

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve whispers.

“Thank you for keeping him company.” She whispers back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you.”

Steve doesn’t know if that’s true, if Eddie is lucky to have him, but he nods anyway. Gives a gentle wave as Sam heads back out of the room.

He sets the pillow next to Eddie’s leg, keeping their hands connected as he dozes off. Steve falls asleep the same way he used to fall asleep in class. All bent over in his chair, one cheek flattened out on the desk. It’s very reminiscent of that.

Only better because he’s with the guy that makes his chest swell, even when he’s being sarcastic or melodramatic. Even when he’s cobwebbed himself into a maze of cords. Even when he’s bitching about batteries and Steve’s vomit-inducing fashion sense.

Steve thinks maybe he likes the undesirable traits of Eddie Munson just as much as the desirable ones.

And once he’s knocked out entirely, the rhythm of his heart matches the beeping monitor hooked up to Eddie’s chest.

Day 57:

It’s been a long time since Steve has had a decent dream. And this dream he’s in right now? It’s fucking luxurious.

He’s at the hair salon, because of course he is - it’s his home away from home.

His head is reclining back in that giant sink thing. The one that’s like a soup bowl for hair or whatever. The stylist is shampooing his scalp, scrubbing all of those foamy products into his roots. This is Steve’s favorite part of getting his hair done, he always feels blissed out of his mind afterward.

They keep washing it for the whole dream, digging their nails into his head, dunking water over his hair every so often. It’s downright perfection. A dream he could stay stuck in forever.

The scenery of the dream flickers out, but the sensations linger as he gains consciousness. His squints both of his eyes open, immediately greeted by too much brightness, too much sunlight. Steve shuts them again, soaking up the remnants of his dream. The hair scratching that’s ongoing even though he’s awake.

Awake.

Steve is awake and can still feel all of that salon paradise. His brain finally wakes up enough to realize it isn’t a dream. It’s Eddie’s hands in his hair, combing it thoroughly.

Fuck, it feels so good too. Steve wonders if Eddie is aware of what he’s doing or if he’s also in that suspended place between awake and asleep.

It doesn’t matter, not really. It all feels way too incredible to care about the logistics. Steve nuzzles deeper into the pillow to hide the happy little hums that keep escaping through his mouth.

Eddie doesn’t stop. He keeps moving his hand around. Twirling strands and releasing them. Ruffling strands and smoothing them. Massaging the pads of his fingers in all the right places. Every bit of it is dreamy. Better than the dream Steve initially believed to be unbeatable.

Being Eddie’s own personal petting zoo is way better. Miles, light years better. Is there any form of measurement longer than lightyears? Because it’s bigger and better than that too.

Eddie tugs a little harder, just once, but once is all it takes to make Steve melt. He open-mouth sighs into the pillow, hoping the fabric mutes the neediness of it. There’s drool on the pillow and it’s unclear if it’s from when he was asleep or if it occurred just from that one hair tug.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice still sounds coated in sleep. “Is this weird?”

Steve shakes his head no, still unable to lift his face from the pillow.

“Should I stop?”

Steve shakes his head much faster. Absolutely not. Stopping should be banished from Eddie’s vocabulary. The word ‘stop’ should be homeless as far as Steve is concerned.

Eddie tugs again, more firmly this time. The tug goes straight to Steve’s dick, which yikes. Humiliating. Yeah, it’s morning and this shit happens, but not this kind of boner. Not one brought on by hair salon fantasies and a metalhead with magical fingertips. This can’t be the reality of Steve’s life right now but somehow, it is.

“I think I combed through all of that cake-up hairspray.” Eddie talks as his hand continues to roam around Steve’s scalp. “Feels like cashmere now, so you’re welcome.”

Steve sighs again, pretty sure it’s much more audible this time because Eddie laughs.

“Embarrassing.” Steve mumbles. That’s all he can muster out without becoming a puddle of humiliation.

“The sounds you’re making?”

Steve nods.

“Oh that is not the adjective I would’ve gone with.” Eddie claws his fingers all the way down to Steve’s neck. “Not even close.”

Steve is all hormones now, all slurred speech and thoughtless words. “So good, Eddie.”

“Oh my god.” Eddie whines, sounds breathier than Steve. “You cannot say my name like that when I’m in a tissue-thin gown.”

Steve wants to sneak a peek, see if what Eddie is suggesting holds any truth. He resists, only because he’s trying to sort out his own tent-pitching problems at the moment.

He gradually lifts his head off of the pillow, back cracking as he straightens his spine out after hours of being shaped like fucking tetris piece. It’s the last thing he wants to do because it means Eddie has to take his hand out of Steve’s hair. But as Eddie pulls away, his knuckles brush against Steve’s ear, awakening this newfound urgency to not let this moment fizzle out.

Steve hops up onto the bed, sitting side-saddle next to Eddie. He looks through Eddie’s eyes, the ones that remind him of shimmery dresses and the backseat of his car on prom night. He looks through to find a reason to stop his actions. Stop his need to touch Eddie’s jawline or thumb over his lips. He’s searching for a reason to stop and finding none whatsoever.

“Do you remember me?”

“You’re Steve Harrington.” Eddie kind of stutters as he says it. “Hometown Slut extraordinaire.”

The nerdy bastard is never going to let that one go.

Steve gives a quiet laugh, leaning in to his impulses. He slides his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, curving around, mapping invisible outlines. A blueprint for his imagination when they’re apart later. “Am I reading this wrong?”

Eddie’s gaze is glued to Steve’s lips as he shakes his head no.

“Good.”

Steve uses his free hand to lift himself up, get closer. Breathing in the same stale oxygen, sucking up the same early morning courage, existing in the same dizzying climate.

He can feel Eddie exhale softly over his skin when there’s a knock at the door.

Steve has never stood up so fast in his damn life. Gets a head rush that’s so overwhelming that his vision speckles out momentarily.

It’s Sam. Thank god it’s only Sam. But also, screw god for interrupting what almost happened just now. Not cool, sky man.

“Just a heads up,” she starts, shutting the door behind her. “You have another visitor that just arrived.”

Right. It's the weekend.

Steve and Eddie say it in unison. “Dustin.”

Sam hums in reply. “I can stall him for a couple minutes. Give you time to sneak out the stairs that are tucked in the back hallway.”

“You’re the best.” Steve says. “I’ll be quick.”

She leaves, cracking the door on her way out.

Both of them just look at each other for a moment. There’s no time to even discuss the events that just took place. No time to recover the kiss that is already sneaking out the back hallway stairs.

Steve nervously whistles. “So…”

“I’ll see you Monday?”

“Monday.” 48 hours apart seems insane. “Yeah.”

Steve hurriedly makes his way to the door - refusing his horny impulses the opportunity to kick back in and ruin everything. “See you later, Eds.”

Eddie licks over his bottom lip - the one Steve mapped out with his thumbprint. “Later, sailor.”

Um. What?

Steve’s eyes go large. “What did you just call me?”

“Go.” Eddie flashes the wickedest grin. “We’ll talk all about your ocean of flavor on Monday.”

This can’t be happening. “Ocean of -”

“Get out of here already!”

Steve flings himself out of the room, sprinting down the hall. Does Eddie actually recall Steve working at Starcourt? How can that be possible? Steve doesn’t remember seeing Eddie outside of school ever.

Plus, they’ve never even talked about his job at Scoops Ahoy. Family Video? Sure, that’s more recent. But Scoops? Steve tries to forget just about everything from his time at that seaside shithole.

Goddamnit, this is confusing. The hair foreplay. The almost-kiss. The nautical nickname. Confusing is an understatement. Steve needs to go back to high school and learn a better word for what this is. Confusing isn’t cutting it anymore.

If Steve can make it till Monday without spiraling into a bucket of nerves, he deserves a fucking trophy.

And a kiss on the lips.

Mostly the second option (although a trophy would be nice too).

#🎶here comes some contenttttt🎶#steddie fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #sorrrrrrryyyyy these keep getting longer and longer #also - this is as close as I can get to a bed sharing trope in a hospital fic #and I hope this helps y'all feel better after the *last* chapter #and if I missed your tag pls reach out and tell me - I'm trying to keep up but my brain is a cluttered place to be in

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nocasdatsgay · 1 month

Text

Sharing Is Caring: A Neapolitan Bond’s Fic

Day four of @polyacotarweek : Adventure

Summary: Azriel has a surprise for you after the ball in Hewn City. That Surprise is Rhys and Feyre.

Master Post| Poly Week Master Post| A03 Link

Rating: E| Word Count: 4339| Pairings: Azriel/Eris/Reader, Feyre/Rhysand, Azriel/Rhysand, Feyre/Reader

Warnings: Rope Bunny!Reader, all sorts of various sex, bdsm undertones, consensual partner switching, Azriel and Reader POVs

A/N: I don’t elaborate fully but I do mention there are established rules amongst the three of them. Kink plays into this but it’s unspoken understanding that they can and will stop or refuse something at any time. The part where Az explains rules laid out is more about Eris being the dominant in that moment than it is about their poly bond. Feyre and Rhys are a “surprise” but it’s been discussed off scene that yes, being with them is on the table for all three participants.

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @hieragalbatorixdottir @ysmtttty @mybestfriendmademe

You shivered when Az slipped two fingers between your bare skin and where the rope rested on your back. He was checking to make sure Eris didn’t wrap it too tight. He gave a hum of approval and withdrew them.

“How do you feel?” He leaned in by your right ear. “How is your breathing?”

“I'm good. I can breathe fine.”

You inhaled sharply on instinct. The ropes wrapped all around your chest and waist were comfortable. Restrictive and snug, but not as tight as you’ve had them before. Decorative knots trying them in place pressed along your spine. You couldn’t see them but they felt nice. Az kissed your cheek.

“Good. Now slip on your dress and let’s see how it looks.”

You turned, and walked to the bed. You’d laid out dress before Eris came in. Your cheeks heated as you picked it up, your hands visible through the thin fabric. The room instantly filled with the scent of both your mates as you pulled on the dress. You turned to face them- eyeing Eris specifically.

Azriel had picked out this dress for your visit to the Night Court. Eris would not be attending- just you and Azriel as representatives of the Autumn Court. Which was why Azriel had Eris practice his harness, so you’d feel him even if he wasn’t there. Though there was arousal in the air, you felt the annoyance from Eris through his bond before he shut it down.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” You bit your lip and walked over to the mirror.

The dress itself was beautiful. Gray with an iridescent sheen, cut in faux modesty. The swooping neckline wasn’t low enough to show off your breasts. But the fabric was thin and it didn’t stop the red rope from shining through- or the color of your areolas. The fabric was less see-through around your hips thankfully. But two high slits in the skirt left little to the imagination. The sleeves were long and when you turned, the knots of the rope could be seen like flowers along your back.

Eris cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I can’t let you leave like that.”

“Hold on,” you replied.

Skirts billowed between your legs as you walked to the bathing room. You knew his issue was your breasts. Territoral brat, you thought with a giggle. There was a trick you picked up in Dawn- they loved their flowy fabrics but that came at a cost of thickness. You just had to remember where you put them. You dug around in your drawers and found it- two cloth discs close to the color of your skin and a bottle. You took them to the sink and laid them out. As you shook the bottle and Eris and Azriel came into the bathing chamber.

“What in the cauldron is that?” Eris asked.

“Samira gave me these.” You replied simply.

“That doesn’t tell us what it is, baby,” Az chuckled.

You ignored him and pulled at the neckline, careful to not stretch it too much. You took the one you just outlined with the sticky paste and gently placed it on your breast. Once you were satisfied, you first looked in the mirror and it wasn’t visible outside the dress. You turned to your mates.

“Better?” You asked.

“Yes,” Eris grumbled.

He still frowned, looking between your covered breast and uncovered one. Azriel was grumpy as well but for a different reason. You knew he was put out by the fact your your breasts weren’t visible any longer. He loved showing you off, unlike Eris. You liked it too but felt this was a good compromise. Last thing you all needed was Eris storming the Court of Nightmares to kidnap you because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and your exposed skin.

You put the other one on and adjusted the dress when you were done. The rope was still visible and beautiful under the dress but only the shape of your breasts were visible now. You went and put the bottle back and once again turned to your mates.

“Can we go now?” You asked innocently.

Az was already dressed, black leather trousers and a deep gray formal shirt cut to fit around his wings to go with the dress. You did your hair and makeup before Eris put the ropes on you and it was getting dark. Az might be a fan of ‘fashionably late’ but you weren’t.

“Yes,” Eris looked between the two of you. “And I better not get another note from Rhys saying someone caught you in the corridors again.”

You and Az both rolled your eyes at the same time. You were just kissing- but someone blew it out of proportion. Probably because Az had his hand up your dress on your thigh. You blinked realizing right then that’s why Azriel bought this dress with high slits. You tugged his bond and he tugged back sending a smug confirmation. Ass. You sighed and walked up to Eris to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

“I’ll behave Daddy.” Fire flashed in his eyes as you ducked away, knowingly teasing him.

“I make no promises,” Az added, he too giving Eris a quick kiss. “Is what we talked about still on the table?”

“Yes,” Eris cut his eyes to you. “But only if you want it.”

You didn’t know what it was. Azriel told you he might have a surprise after the ball. If it was something Eris agreed to then it fell under the established rules between the three of you. Though you were certain that surprise was actually a someone or someones.

“Of course,” you replied, waving him off.

As if your mates ever forced you to do something you didn’t want.

“We will be back tomorrow,” Az took your arm. He smirked at Eris. “If we don’t return by noon I’m sure you know how to storm Hewn City.”

“Don’t tempt me. Enjoy your little adventure,” he said sarcastically.

You clung tightly to Az as his shadows enveloped you, shadow walking you into Hewn City.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The party went as well as you could expect. Azriel put on a cold persona, guarding you very closely in the beginning until you were near the High Lord and High Lady. He relaxed a little after. Mostly due to Cassian riling him up. The teasing between them did not escape you, not when it was more than what they did during visits to Valeris.

You stayed near Nesta and Feyre, Nesta dragging you out to the dance floor more than once to make Cassian and Azriel pay attention to you both. By the time it was past midnight, you were firm in belief of what surprise Azriel had in store for you.

You both headed to suite Eris normally used on Hewn City. The room even smelled like him when Az shut the door behind you. You were making your way to the bathing when Az pulled you by the ropes under your dress so you were back against his chest. He kissed your neck while shadows circled you both.

“Are you up for playing?” He whispered in that deep tone that made your eyes roll back.

“Maybe.” You hummed as he kissed your neck again and his hand came up to cup your breast. “Just us or will we have a guest?”

“You know me so well,” Az nipped at your ear.

“Who is it?”

“Rhys and Feyre.” He felt you tense and immediately added. “We don’t have to baby, it’s just a suggestion.”

You moved out of his hold to face him. “It’s not that. I just- I thought it would be Cassian.” Your face heated at the confession.

Az’s gaze went dark and he grinned at you. “Do you want to play with Cassian?”

“Maybe, but it was just how he talked to you tonight, I thought-” Heat creeped up to your ears. You didn’t know why it was embarrassing. “Well I- liked it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. I’ll tell Rhys you said no-“

“I didn’t say no.” He cut his eyes to yours and you saw his wings flare out a little. “I just said I thought it was going to be Cassian and Nesta. I’ll play with Rhys and Feyre.”

“You sure?”

“Yes sir.”

His cedar scent sweetened and he dropped his eyes to your chest. “Take those fucking nipple covers off first, then we will go.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Az shadow walked you to the open hall of moonstone palace. The chill air made your nipples harden under the fabric now that your covers were removed. He took your hand and led you down the hall.

“Eris said you can have Feyre any way you like but Rhys can only use his fingers on you.” He whispered into your ear. “But if you want, he suggested you sit on his face and humble him.”

“And you?” Your body was already flushing at the idea.

“I can have Rhys if I want to. If I do anything with Feyre, it’s up to you.”

“Do you think I’ll get jealous?” Your giggle echoed along with your footsteps.

“I would be offended if you didn’t.” He kissed your cheek.

Azriel finally stopped at a door. He didn’t knock- you assumed he alerted them with his mind as there was no shock from the occupants when you stepped inside. Across one side of the room was a large bed. Big enough for Illyrian wings and others comfortably. Right across from the bed were two chairs who housed the current room occupants. Az dropped his hand to your lower back, guiding you towards them.

Rhysand and Feyre watched the two of you, their gazes made it look like they knew something you didn’t. Your nerves spiked; you put up your mental shields like Eris taught you just to put yourself at ease. Az stopped in front of them. Feyre’s gaze raked over you. Rhys was the one who broke the silence.

“Did you enjoy the party?”

“We did,” Az replied. “But I think we’re going to have much more fun here.” Az, ever the flirt.

“We have rules.” You said it quickly, your nervousness coming out. “Did Az explain them? Before?”

“Yes, baby,” he chuckled, answering for Rhys. He always found your nervousness cute. “You don’t have to worry about Rhys. He knows what he can and cannot do with you.”

“I won’t get you in trouble,” Rhys winked at you. For some reason that made you blush.

Feyre stood, her white gown glistening in the fae lights. It was a beautiful dress; a halter top with a high slit. It was even more beautiful in contrast to her tattoos. But you always thought Feyre was beautiful. The air between you was charged even though she stood a few steps away from you.

“Can I see? The ropes?” Feyre’s eyes widened with what appeared to be excitement. “I have never seen that before.”

You looked to Az and he nodded, removing his arm from you. You slipped the dress down off your arms and shoulders, letting the fabric gather at your hips. Feyre’s mouth fell open as she looked you over.

“It’s so pretty,” she breathed, walking around you. You preened under her attention. “Did you do this,” she asked Az from behind you.

“Eris did.”

“Can I touch you?” Feyre stopped in front of you and bit her lip.

“You may.”

She reached out and touched the rope that wrapped around and lifted your right breast. You inhaled sharply, trying to not gasp. Her finger tips skimmed across the rope, ghosting along your skin. She looked up at you again and you didn’t have to see her pupils were blown out. You could smell her.

“Can I touch you,” she asked again, damn near breathless. You knew what she meant.

“Please.”

You swore you heard your mate chuckle. Her hand went to your breast and you whined. She stepped closer and ran her thumb along your nipple. You didn’t ask permission when you leaned in and kissed her. Gods you hadn’t kissed another female in so long. You both sighed and your arms went around her neck. Her lips were softer than both your mates and she tasted sweeter too when you slipped your tongue in.

While your hands undid the clasp on the back of her neck that connected her dress, Feyre pushed at the fabric gathered at your hips. She hummed against your lips when her fingers met bare skin instead of underwear. Shoes were kicked off and the clasps on Feyre’s dress let the straps fall off her, her heavy breasts freed. You pulled away to look at her, your hand running down over her chest to cup said breast.

“Beautiful,” you muttered.

You glanced up at her and circled your thumb on her nipple. That was all it took for her to push off her dress and push you onto the bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Az was mesmerized watching you kiss and undress Feyre. He didn’t even tell you to stop and ask for permission- you looked too happy. That and his shadows hissed at him to leave you be. He fell back in the chair behind him and just watched, his cock stirring in his pants as the smell of you hit him hard.

Azriel.

Rhys.

He didn’t bother to look at him, still watching you and Feyre climb onto the bed together. His hand absentmindedly rubbing his now hardened cock through his trousers. Then his view was obscured. His focus shifted to look up at Rhys.

I didn’t ask for you to come here just for you to ignore me all night. He smirked.

Then get on my lap.

Rhys stared at him, thinking. Or at least pretending to. Az knew Rhys well enough that even after centuries he still had to act like he wasn’t eager. Azriel’s wings flared out as Rhys moved and straddled his thighs. Az reached and grabbed his ass, pulling him close. Rhys finally leaned in and pressed his lips to Azriel’s. There was a content sigh that left him when Rhys slipped his tongue into his mouth. Az didn’t know if he wanted to curse or praise Rhysand’s silk trousers. They were making him slide against Az’s leather pants while in his lap and each time Azriel pulled him forward, Rhy’s hardness would bump against his own.

Gods I missed you. Rhys moaned into his mouth.

Az missed him too. He loves Eris and you; but he still missed being with Rhys and even Cassian. Only fleetingly; you and Eris satisfied his heart and soul. That didn’t mean he was immune to reminiscing about the times before. He was surprised Eris let him do this when he asked.

Az groaned and bit Rhys’s lip.

“Fuck,” Rhys pulled back gasping. Az looked up concerned.

Your mate just gave mine one hell of an orgasm. Rhys started to laugh softly.

Already?

I may have been edging Feyre all night. Rhys grinned smugly.

Azriel’s shadows started to work on their clothes, undoing his and Rhysand’s pants. Az was grateful- he felt your pleasure building through the bond. One look around Rhys and he saw you with Feyre crawling over your body.

Looks like Feyre is about to return the favor. Az chuckled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The moment you were on the bed, you made Feyre lay up at the top. You gave her just a moment before you lavished kisses on her body, leading yourself down to settle between her legs. Feyre tasted as good as she smelled. You immediately lapped up her wetness, your tongue finding her clit and your fingers slipping into her with ease.

That’s good. Feyre spoke it into your mind but moaned loudly. Oh that’s really good.

It was weird being able to talk to Feyre without using your voice but nice at the same time. You felt around for a moment inside her and Feyre bucked against your face.

Found it.

You grinned and sucked on her clit. It did not take long- Feyre squirmed on the bed, pulled at your hair and a few minutes later she gasped and was pulsing hard around your fingers as you worked her through it. She was catching her breath when you pulled out your fingers, sticking them in your mouth to lick them clean.

Rhys edged me before you got here. Her pretty face flushed.

Those do make for the best orgasms. Az edged me so much one time that I came just from Eris touching me.

You looked her over as you pulled your fingers out of your mouth. You realized she had a faint glow to her.

“You glow.”

“Only when it’s good.” She smirked.

“Glad to know I made it good.” You smirked back.

You moved back over her, intending to just kiss for a moment. However, Feyre was in your mind and looking up at you while biting her lip.

Can I, you know, go down on you?

You don’t have to.

Feyre ignored your reply. She flipped you over onto the bed so she was over you now.

I want to. Tell me what to do.

So you did. You laid back and let her kiss down your body, taking her time and touching the rope still on you. When she finally settled between your legs, you told her to just do what she liked done on herself. You still had to guide her a little. She moved her tongue differently than Az and Eris, a welcomed change that had you rubbing yourself against her face.

Careful you said when she pushed her fingers into you. You have longer nails.

Right, sorry. Feyre made sure to be gentle.

“Good girl,” you whispered when the pads of her fingers found that spot inside you.

She moaned against you and you pushed your hands into her hair. Looking up you could see Rhys sitting in Azriel’s lap. Shadows were flurrying around them. You focused on the bond. You could feel Az’s joy in taking care of Rhys. You pushed your pleasure through and grinned when you felt him tug back with a warning. You weren’t pushing your luck, not tonight. You went back to focusing on Feyre and mummering your praise as she brought you over the edge.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With the help of his shadows, he had Rhys’s shirt open and his pants undone. While Az let his own shirt slide off onto the floor behind the chair, he kept his trousers laced. Az wanted to focus on Rhys first. Rhys was insatiable as ever, his kisses getting rougher while shadows played with his chest and nipples. Az forced him back long enough to spit on his hand and start stroking Rhys’s cock.

Rhys groaned and went back to kissing him. Azriel’s strokes were slow, almost lazy. He loved working his partners up and this was no different. He felt you through the bond, like a questioning pulse. Az sent down his feelings and let you know he was enjoying himself. You sent back pleasure that shot down his spine and made his hips buck.

Your mate? Rhys grinned against his lips.

She’s being a brat. Az replied playfully.

Azriel tugged the bond once: a warning if you didn’t back off, you’d be in trouble. You seemed to take the hint and your side of the bond backed off. Az went back to stroking and kissing Rhys. It didn’t take much longer for the High Lord to reach the edge. Az pulled back. He stroked him faster and leaned in to bite at his neck. Rhys roared a curse and a rumble went through the mountain as he came all over Az’s hand and between their chests.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice carried loudly.

Az busted out laughing, still stroking Rhys who for once looked embarrassed.

“If it’s good, he makes the mountains shake,” Az could hear Feyre giggling as she said it.

“Not funny,” Rhy shoved at Azriel’s hand but didn’t move off him. He buried his face against Az’s neck. Something he hadn’t done since they were youths.

“Poor Illyrian baby,” Feyre called out.

“Every time?” You asked. He could see you looked shocked. “This is a High Lord thing, isn’t it? Eris makes the fireplace damn near explode sometimes.”

Rhys pulled back, brows raised at Az. “Does he?”

Az laughed. “He’s getting better at controlling it. Something you could learn to do.” He looked around to you again. “I’m going to tell him you spilled his secret.”

“It’s not a secret when the whole damn Forest House knows. They’re just too polite to say it to his face.” You grumbled just loud enough for him and Rhys to hear.

Azriel tugged the bond twice and you tugged back once. A promise to behave. He turned his attention back to Rhys.

“You made a mess. I think you should clean it up.”

“You’re just trying to get me to suck your cock,” Rhys leaned in and kissed him hard. “You’re lucky that it works on me.”

“I am good at getting High Lords on their knees.”

Az laughed when Rhys shot him a look, slipping off his lap and tucking himself back into his pants.

You could just fuck me. Rhys sank to his knees. Or did Eris say no?

He was afraid Rhys would ask. He didn’t have it in him to explain his feelings about it. He just sighed aloud and mentally replied.

I say no. It’s nothing personal.

Understood.

Rhys didn’t push it. He used his magic to clear away the mess and then focused on undoing Azriel’s trousers. Az sat back and watched Rhys take him out of his trousers and immediately take him into his mouth. Az slumped in his chair, the tension he’d been feeling all night seeping out of him. Rhys remembered just how he liked it too, tongue swirling around the head of his cock each time he pulled back.

Az didn’t draw it out. He grabbed Rhys by his hair and forced him to take him down his throat. Rhys choked and Az came, spilling down his throat. He let go and watched Rhys pull back and gasp for air. Which was probably the hottest thing he’d seen all night. Az went to tuck himself back into his trousers but you tugged on the bond.

“Az,” you called out from the bed. You and Feyre were grinning at him and Rhys. “Would you be up to playing with Feyre?”

Az looked at Rhys.

Rhys gave him a lazy smile. Don’t look at me like that. I want to watch.

Of course you do. Az chuckled.

Instead of redoing his pants, he shoved them off. Rhys did the same and they both joined you and Feyre on the bed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After bidding them good night, Az shadow walked you both to the room. Mostly because you didn’t want to put your dress and shoes back on. Az was similarly nude, clothes in hand. You wanted to wipe down and go to bed; the sooner morning came, the sooner you could get the ropes off. You loved them but sometimes the feeling was overstimulating. You didn’t dare ask Az to take them off you if only because it would put out Eris. The smell hit you first. The room smelled like Eris earlier but it was stronger now. Your whole body relaxed when you spotted him in the chair by the fireplace.

”Miss us so much you had to storm the city before dawn?” Az asked.

Eris cut his eyes up from the book in his lap, looking between the two of you.

“I take it you had fun,” he slipped a paper into the book and closed it.

“Yes.” You dropped your clothes and went up to him. He set the book aside and let you climb into his lap. “Thank you.” You kissed him hard.

“You don’t have to thank me, love,” he whispered when you pulled back. “It was Azriel’s idea.”

You could hear Azriel in the background moving around the room but you remained where you were. You needed to tell him. The guilt was on your face, you knew it.

“I told them about the fireplace.” Eris blinked at you. “I’m sorry, Rhys made the whole fuckin mountain shake and I- I was a little worked up from… Feyre. It just came out.”

Eris bursted out with laughter. “Gods, the whole mountain?”

“Are you mad?”

”No,” Eris tried to stifle his laughter but failed. “By the mother, he’s been a High Lord for centuries and he still cannot control himself?”

You blinked, a little confused. Az spoke up from the other side of the room.

“To be fair, he didn’t start that until he met Feyre.” He said. “I think he showed off once and forgot how to turn it off.”

There was silence for a beat before Eris looked you over. “You look tired, love.” He stroked the bare skin of your thighs with his thumbs. “You also reek of Night Court.”

“Sleep first.” You laid your head against his shoulder, slumping into his grasp. “Can you take the ropes off?”

“Of course.”

He used his magic and the ropes vanished. You closed your eyes and sighed, relieved now that nothing was pressing against your skin. He must have used his magic to clean you or glamour on you one; the smells from Rhys and Feyre on you were stifled. You felt another pair of hands on you. Azriel pulled you out of Eris’s lap. You grumbled in protest.

“I’m just putting you to bed, grumpy,” Az chuckled. He carried you and placed you on the bed, pulling the blanket up.

You wanted to protest. You had so much to tell Eris but sleep was pulling you into its grasp quickly. You’d tell Eris about your adventures in the morning you decided; as long as Az didn’t do it first.

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d4 #Neapolitan bonds #Azriel/Eris/Reader #Feysand #Reader/Feyre #Azriel/Rhysand #consensual partner sharing #I have no excuse for this #spot the moment I got tired of writing smut lol #ya girl is tired #Also Eris showed up because he couldn’t sleep #the bed was too empty but he’s not gonna tell them that

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